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duskholland · 3 years

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Stuck With(out) You - Mob!Tom Smut

tom was having a really nice day until the metropolitan police decided to crash his date. or, when the law finally catches up to london’s most notorious mobster, tom learns that nothing is fair in love and war.

word count ↠ 15k. warnings ↠ angst with a happy ending, alcohol, a car chase, extensive depictions of prison, violence (very minor injury detail), tattooing, pregnancy, bad language, smut! there are extended nsfw warnings below the cut but this is 18+ so minors please do not interact. a/n ↠ this is a work of fiction and is not meant to be taken 100% seriously! similarly to every other fic I’ve written about mob!tom, I don’t condone any of the actions shown in this story and all depictions of the mob and prison are entirely fictional. please do not date members of the mafia even if they are tom holland !!!!! + this fic was conceptualised before the release of cherry, and there are no purposeful links to the content of that film! the image from esquire that I’ve used is what led me down this path lmfao...esquire I love/hate you. ++ the biggest thank you ever to the wonderful @uglypastels for helping me with the initial brainstorm on this one, and for just generally being so supportive as I’ve struggled with writers block :’) I wouldn’t have ever been able to think this up let alone have the motivation to write this without you, so thank you and ily z <3 +++ there is a pov change halfway through this fic! it is intentional and you should be able to see it pretty easily but I’m just flagging it so you don’t think I lost it halfway through ahahha. enjoy!

nsfw warnings ↠ car sex, soft!dom!tom ft minor sir kink, oral and fingering (fem-receiving), multiple orgasms with brief refs to overstimulation, minor pregnancy kink, unprotected sex ft cumshot.

✧ *:･ﾟStuck With(out) You･ﾟ:*✧

There’s something wrong with you, and Tom can’t quite put his finger on it.

He wonders if it’s the wine. He’d spent hours debating the type of grape and ideal bitterness, scouring his memory in search of the perfect blend to share with you on your date. Eventually, he’d settled on the same deep red that he’d shared with you the first time he’d visited your flat, back when your love was just a small spark. Three years have passed since then, the nerves of early romance melted away and replaced by knowing and love, but the wine has recurred each time one of you has decided to treat the other, so what better blend to bring along to the picnic that Tom had so meticulously planned?

You haven’t touched your glass, and Tom—for all his confidence and charm—is deeply unsettled by this.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asks for what feels like the tenth time, with brows furrowed so tightly his forehead aches. Tom reaches across the gingham blanket to join your fingers together, surprised to feel the clamminess of your skin as you gently squeeze his hand.

You hum. “I’m fine,” you say, voice devoid of any intense emotion. You sigh softly before bringing your eyes to meet Tom’s, and the man feels his heart constrict in his chest. You’re perfect, even with your hair messy from the light spring wind and the nerves that sit across your face. When you squeeze his hand again, and Tom glances down to see the engagement ring on your fourth finger, the ache in his heart sharpens.

He never knew love could be this fulfilling, nor so easy. Breathing is harder than it is to love you.

“Okay,” he replies. “Do you want to go home?”

You’ve been so quiet for the entire date, which is strange because usually, you match his energy effortlessly. Tom has been away for a few weeks doing business in Liverpool, and this date by the river is the first time you’ve been properly alone since he returned. He’d really expected you to enjoy the date—or, on a very basic level, at least look like you want to be here. With your quiet answers, avoidance, and nervous stares, he can’t confidently say that you do.

You shake your head. “No, no.” You fiddle with some of his rings before pulling your hand away from his. As you sit up a little straighter, you turn away from Tom to stare instead at the River Thames.

The river behind you is lit by the mid-afternoon sun and flooded with boats. It’s such a lovely day that Tom almost doesn’t notice the horrible brown tinge to the water. Lining the bank are small groups of people—families, friends, couples, tourists. They all stay clear of the two of you, undoubtedly wary of the security guards lingering near their boss. He rarely goes out so obviously like this, but you’ve always loved London, and he’d wanted to treat you. He’d wanted this to be a nice day.

“You know you can talk to me, don’t you?” he checks, voice catching slightly.

Your eyes snap up to his quickly. “Tom,” you say, voice wrapped endearingly around his name. Moving easily, you slip closer to him, carefully shifting around the food and the glasses until you’re close enough to reach out and touch his cheek. “I love you.”

Tom’s teeth graze his lower lip as he feels you pad your thumb across his jaw. “I know,” he murmurs, dropping his gaze. “I love you too.” He pauses for a few moments, savouring the closeness and the scent of your rosy spritz. He’d missed you so much that it almost hurts to have you so close again. “I know you have something on your mind, darling… Can you tell me what it is? I want to help you.”

“I…” A breathy exhalation follows. You bring your hand away from his cheek and rest it on the red silk material covering his shoulder. He’s in a loose designer shirt, the top two buttons unbuttoned and showing off the silver-linked chain he has hanging from his neck. “Tom, I just…”

“What?”

A small smile twitches at your lips. “Not here,” you seem to decide, voice a little stronger. “I have something I need to show you.”

“At home?”

“Yeah.”

Tom feels the weight rolls from his shoulders. It’s fine—everything is fine. You want to let him in, want to trust him with the cause of your anxieties. You still want him.

“Let’s go, then,” he decides, knowing he’s far too impatient to spend another hour laying by the river. Tom offers you a hand, and you take it. He tugs you away from the picnic setup with ease. He doesn’t need to bother with putting the things away—someone else will do it. Just one of the perks of his job.

“I missed you,” you say, smoothing your thumb over the back of his hand as you walk together towards the car. “It gets lonely without you in the house. Our bed is ridiculously huge without two people in it.”

Tom chuckles. “Good job I’m back now then, eh?”

The noise you release is stacked full of so much relief it makes Tom feel guilty for ever leaving to begin with. As he watches the bright, genuine smile flow across your face when you meet his eyes, he resolves to never leave for business again. Never. Not without you.

“A very good job,” you clarify. When you reach the car together, Tom holds the door open for you, ushering you in dramatically until you’re laughing and making fun of him for fussing. The only way he can stop you from your jovial whines is by leaning across the dashboard and pressing his lips to yours, so really he can’t complain. “This car is stupid, too,” you decide.

“Oh, that’s too fucking far,” Tom murmurs, glancing in the rear mirror as he peels away from the pavement. He’s glad the air between you has lightened. You seem happier now you’ve decided to spill your secrets. He rests his hand on the back of your headrest as he twists in his seat, eyes on the road as he reverses. “This car is a beauty.”

“This car is confusing,” you say, and Tom feels you staring at the flex of his bicep. “I tried driving it when you were gone.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Mmm. Couldn’t even get it up the drive.”

“Well, not to be rude, darling, but it’s hardly fair to blame my beautiful car for the fact that you’re an atrocious driver.”

If looks could kill, Tom knows he’d be six feet under.

“Fuck you, Tom,” you seethe, but your voice is charged with laughter. “I take it back. I didn’t miss you at all. Go back to Liverpool, see if I care.”

Tom cackles. “Maybe I will,” he teases, “just to see how long it takes you to start begging for me to come back again.”

You grumble something incoherent at that, then the words between you lull into a comfortable silence. After a few moments, you shift your palm to rest on his thigh, your hand gentle, warm. Your fingertips trace tiny love hearts over his slacks.

“Don’t,” you say eventually, voice quieter. “Stay this time.”

Tom risks a quick glance to you, growing breathless in the depths of your eyes. “Of course,” he says, voice thick. Tom returns his gaze to the road, his chest feeling tight. “I’m never leaving you again.”

“I mean, you can leave sometimes if you want—”

“No. Never.” Tom’s cheeks ache. “I’m never leaving your side.”

“Alright, Tom.” You sigh lightly, feigning exasperation. “I guess there are worse things than being stuck with you.”

“I’m charmed, darling. So relieved you like spending time with your fiancé.”

You shift in your seat at that, and Tom doesn’t have to look at you to know you’re flustered. You’re always shyer around him when he mentions the fact that your futures are intertwined, almost unbelieving that he’d slipped that ring onto your finger. It doesn’t matter how many times Tom tells you that he cherishes you—you never quite make peace with the fact that he wants to chase the moon with you. That doesn’t mean he’ll stop telling you, though. You hang the stars in his sky.

“I love spending time with you, Tom,” you mumble. “And I hope that what I’m about to tell you doesn’t change how you feel about me.”

His eyebrows raise. “Wait— what?” Tom scrunches the tip of his nose up as he squints in your direction. “Y/N, what—” He pauses, concentrating on keeping his voice level. “Angel, nothing you could ever do would change the way I feel about you. Nothing.”

You smile quietly. “It’s not a bad thing,” you add, almost sensing his unease. “I think you’ll like it.”

“Perfect.” Tom sits a little straighter in his seat. “Then there’s nothing to worry about—”

Sirens cut into his words. Tom startles, glancing in the mirror to see a police car with a whirring blue siren perched atop the grimy vehicle.

“Tom,” you say slowly, voice filling with dread. Your tone sends shivers down his spine. “Did you do something?”

Tom bites his lip.

He’s been trying his best to stay above the law recently, but… Liverpool had been messy. Very messy. He hadn’t intended on things going quite as terribly as they had, but one thing had led to another, and he’d had to fuck a few things up. The crime is nothing as intense as he’s been booked for in the past, but he’d had to write a few irregularities into his taxes and business agreements to smooth over the waters. It’s not as bad as murder, but it’s tax fraud nonetheless.

Tom had thought he’d been fine. Apparently not. He’s been a hot target for the Metropolitan Police for years, and they’ve consistently unearthed every tiny discrepancy he’s tried to get away with. He should’ve been more fucking careful.

“Shit,” Tom mutters. As he brings his eyes back to the road in front of him, he realises the police car behind you has been joined by another two, closing in from side streets and boxing him in amongst the traffic. He swallows thickly. “I messed up.”

You curse. “Idiot,” you mutter. You sit forwards in the seat and start to point to a gap in the traffic, right across the square. “Go there,” you say, voice pitching higher. “If you go fast, you’ll make it.”

He could book it. Tom’s run away before, in situations of peril where the alternative had been the law and escaping would give him the chance to alter some books and clear his name. It would be easy to slam his foot on the accelerator and dive down side streets, dodging the thick London traffic.

“Tom!” you say again, voice stressed with desperation. “Tom, go!”

The gap in the traffic is narrowly closing, the window of time Tom has to zoom through and get to safety shrinking before his very eyes. If he was alone, he’d do it without a second thought, but you’re here.

You’re here, and that means he can’t be selfish. Tom couldn’t ever risk you, not with such a treacherous manoeuvre like the one that you’re suggesting, nor with the repercussions you’d face if he books it. You’d either have to come on the run with him, or you’d end up captured and grilled by the Met, and neither of those options is the types of things he’d ever bring willingly upon you. You would never deserve that, and he refuses to make it a possibility.

Tom slows down the car.

“Tom,” you say, shock filling your voice. “What are you doing? They’ll get you.”

He nods. “I want you to listen to me, very carefully,” he says quickly.

“But—”

“—Darling, please. Please.” Tom stops the car abruptly. He calculates he has mere seconds before the officers ditch their vehicles and start storming across the traffic to haul him from his seat. “Don’t say anything to them. They want me, not you.” He turns off the engine and grabs your hands, holding them close as he stares into your eyes. “Call Harrison. Whatever shit they’re bringing me in for won’t hold up for long. They’ve— they’ve done this before. They never win. We have backup plans for this crap.”

“Tom,” you whisper, eyes welling with tears, “but they—”

“I know. I know, baby. I know.” He presses quick kisses to your knuckles, clinging so tightly to your fingers it’s like he’ll drift away without your touch. “I’m sorry. I am so bloody sorry. I love you so much.”

His throat hurts. The sight of the pain in your eyes makes him hate himself for ever bringing you into this faithless way of life. He doesn’t give a fuck that he’s destined for a cell—Tom cares that he’s hurt you.

“I love you too,” you say. You lean closer, undoing your seatbelt and popping his too as you reach up to cup Tom’s cheeks in your shaky hands. “It’ll be okay,” you stress. “I’ll get you out of there, baby.”

You lean in closer to kiss him, and Tom aches. The scent of your perfume is overwhelming, and he feels fragile beneath the hold you have on his face. The kindness in your eyes makes it hurt even more. It’d be easier if you’d let fury consume you and spend these last sacred moments denouncing him instead of loving him, but of course, you’re not like that.

The car door opens, and Tom is hauled from the car the moment his lips touch yours. Before he can process it, he’s being pushed up against his car, stiff arms keeping him pinned in place. He closes his eyes, firming up his face and shoving down his feelings as he forces himself to dry up, become stoic. He won’t show weakness now he’s outside.

Tom hears you exit the vehicle a few moments later, the crash of the door coupled with a few scuffles. He drowns out the words of the officers whilst they reel off a list of fabricated crimes, smugness evident in their voices. Good for fucking them.

When they eventually release him, he’s cuffed and weaponless, his spirit bent in two. The metal of his car had hurt his face, but nothing breaks Tom’s heart more than the sight of you being held back by two officers, tears streaming down your face. You bring your hands into the shaky outline of a heart, and it’s the last thing he sees before he’s pushed into the back of a van.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Tom’s day goes from bad to worse.

It’s clear that everyone at the station has been waiting for him to fuck up. He’s met with sly smiles and teasing comments as he’s reacquainted with some of his most despised wardens and guards. He’s held in a temporary cell for almost a day and quizzed on the shreds of ‘evidence’ they’d procured from his house during a raid, and though Tom declines to answer every single question they throw at him, their smugness never fades.

He walks into the trial already knowing he’s going to be locked up, and not even the sight of you beside Harrison and Harry on the benches soothes him.

Five years. He’s charged with five years.

Now, Tom isn’t worried. He knows he won’t actually be held in a cell for that long. He’s already had correspondence with Harrison, who’s assured him that he’s working on it, and there’s really nothing much to worry about. Tom has been in this situation twice before, and on both occasions, he’d been released in less than a month. The connections he’s built from his years heading up the mob are reliant and unwavering, and he knows he won’t have to serve even a fifth of his sentence.

The only difference between the times before and now is you, and Tom can only fucking pray that you don’t despise him for dirtying your name with his crimes. You’d been normal before him—a waitress, aspiring painter, an innocent. Despite your insistence that you love him with all strings attached, his guilt weighs him down. He doesn’t give a fuck about the law and whatever twisted loopholes the jury had bought, but he does care about you and what you think of him. That’s the hardest part.

Two weeks pass achingly slowly.

Prison isn’t that bad for Tom. He’s pretty fucking lucky, all things considered. He has friends here—blokes he’d met around town, most of whom are willing to welcome him in. A few of his old guys are locked behind bars with him, unwavering in their loyalty and more than happy to absorb him as members of their group. Those who don’t know Tom know of him. His reputation as a murderous, cold-hearted killer follows him inside, regardless of its falsity. Tom hasn’t taken a life in three years, but these men don’t need to know that.

“Holland! Get the fuck up. You’re in the gym.”

Tom glances up. He’s lying on top of his bed, one hand propped behind his head, the other holding open a book. He isn’t an avid reader like you, but you’d sent him a copy of your favourite book with scribbled annotations in the margins, and he’s been spending every hour since its arrival clinging to the pages.

He sighs as he puts the book down and stands from the lower bunk. He’s in with a young lad, Ollie, booked on a minor drugs charge. Why they’d paired someone on such a minimal sentence with a member of the mob, Tom will never understand, but the fear in the lad’s eyes every time he looks at him is enough to keep his wavering ego bobbing just above the waterline.

“Step away from the door.”

Tom does as instructed. A moment later, there’s a loud buzzer followed by the swinging of the heavy metal door.

In walks Luther, Tom’s archnemesis. If the inmates fear him, the guards despise him, and to be fair, Tom understands why. He’s a bit of a dick when he’s behind bars. Usually, when he’s free, he operates with a level of poise and charm that comes with his position as leader. He speaks to his men with a firm but kind hand, respects everyone he deems his equal and commands supreme authority without becoming a tyrant. However, when he has his freedom stripped away, and he has to bend to fit the system’s will, his attitude becomes… problematic.

“Holland,” Luther barks. A moment later, he appears in the doorway, coughing loudly, cheeks flushed a ruddy red. He snarls at Tom, his voice like jagged glass. “Come on.”

“You alright, mate?” Tom asks. “You sound fucking terrible.” He looks it, too, with a dripping nose and red-rimmed eyes. He looks ill.

Luther’s features sharpen. “Get over here now.”

“Yes, sir.”

Tom swaggers to the door and dodges a little as Luther cuffs him, the man digging the metal into his skin with extra ferocity. They start to march down the long, grey corridor towards the fitness suite, Luther prodding Tom forward with a hand digging into his back.

“How’s your wife?” Tom tries, tired of the echoing footsteps.

Luther sighs. “How’s yours?”

“She’s doing very well, thank you.”

The guard tuts. “Does she like having a criminal for a husband?”

“Does yours like being married to such a wanker— hey!”

Luther pushes him down the corridor with haste. “Quiet, Holland,” he mutters. “I’ve had enough of you.”

“Well, then it’s too bad you’re stuck with me,” Tom replies. “Did you know that if me being here annoys you so much, you could always let me go? That would sort out your problem.”

He barks a laugh. “Yeah? Let London’s most wanted convict escape?”

Tom raises a brow. “London’s most wanted?” he echoes. “Wow.” Pride seeps into his voice. “That’s an accomplishment.”

“Not a positive one. Self-absorbed bastard.”

It’s easy to laugh. Letting the comments bounce off his back is easier than admitting the jibe about you has irked him. Do you like having a criminal for a partner? Even Tom, for all the world has jaded him, knows no sane person would rest well with the knowledge that their significant other has lied, stolen, and killed. It doesn’t lie well with him, and he was born into this.

They reach the gym.

Tom sticks to the same workout regime he has at home. He does his cardio for twenty minutes on the wobbling treadmill, then sits around on the bench press and does curls with a few of the guys. He keeps quiet, his mind loud, only adding a few comments when necessary. His sullenness adds to his image, and he’s busy with thoughts of you. By the time he’s finished, he feels arguably worse than before. The endorphins from his workout are overshadowed by the guilt Tom feels, clawing at his heart, heavy and persistent in its certainty that he’s a lousy partner.

He can handle being a bad guy, but a bad man? A bad brother, bad friend, or bad lover? The opinions of the guards mean nothing to him, and neither does the law, but when it comes to the people he cares about, their opinions mean everything. Tom has let Luther get into his head, and whilst he knows that was the guard’s intention, the seed of doubt has been planted. As he pumps iron, he feels it grow, taking root, blooming taller.

“Holland. Time to go.”

He grunts as he stands. Sweaty and sore, Tom hobbles to the doorway, feeling considerably smaller than he had when he’d left his cell. The cuffs hurt his wrists as his hands are clasped back together, and the walk back feels even longer than before.

“You had a parcel delivered,” Luther says, breaking the silence. “It arrived last week.”

Tom’s eyebrows pull together. “Last week?”

“I thought I should hold it back until you’d settled in,” comes the patronising response. “I didn’t want to overwhelm you with too many new experiences, Thomas. Not that being in here is anything out of the ordinary for you, though.”

He feels his jaw twitch. He flexes his hand, knuckles burning for movement. Not yet, not yet. He has to wait, has to play the long game.

“You’re a dick,” Tom decides. He doesn’t care that he gets thrown roughly into the cell. He trips over the floor and barely manages to scrape himself to his feet, but he throws out a smirking “fuck you,” before the door slams shut. He’d follow it up with more snide remarks, but he becomes distracted by the sight of the parcel sitting on his bed.

It’s neat, despite the obvious intrusion into its contents by the guards. He flops onto his lower bunk, glad his cellmate is absent as it allows him to drop the ruse. Lips sagging into a frown, Tom rips open the package.

He releases a fragile sound as the contents pour across his duvet. Polaroids fall across the sheets, glistening slightly, neat and pristine. A lump comes to the back of his throat as he shuffles through them, finding images of you, Harry, Sam, Tess… The list carries on. For every person he can think of, there’s an image captured perfectly in time. He even appears in a few of them, with his hand around Haz’s shoulder or his lips pressed to your temple.

He finds a note attached at the bottom.

Tom, I thought you’d want some reminders of home while you’re away. We’re all looking forward until the day you can come home to us. Love you forever, Y/N <3

As Tom traces the edge of his nail along the outline of your face, his eyes well with hot tears. You always know what he needs, even when he doesn’t. You know him, inside out, and you’re continuing to support him, despite it all. He is indebted to you, and he knows already that as soon as he’s let out, he’ll spend every second of his life trying to repay that.

The seed of doubt burns away.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Two weeks later, Tom finally gets to see you again.

The prison visiting room is fucking grim. Toned in sludgy shades of grey and brown, it’s about as ugly as it could be. There are window slits pressed high into the walls, but the primary source of light is from the musky bulbs set above each table. The chairs are uncomfortable, and the decor lacks inspiration. Tom often wonders if the room was designed to be as revolting as possible.

Despite this, as Tom shuffles into the room that smells suspiciously of plasticine, he couldn’t be happier. It doesn’t matter that his wrists ache from the cuffs, nor that the garish shade of orange clashes horrendously against his skin: you’re here, and that makes everything better.

You’re sitting at the table in the corner of the room, drumming your fingers pensively over the surface. His eyes catch on the glinting ring wrapped around your fourth finger, and the sense of longing that had settled in the hollowness of his chest is quickly burnt away. Sensing his movements, you glance up, and when your eyes meet with his, Tom feels his heart come home.

You raise a hand in greeting, smiling shyly, and he tries to look as non-threatening as possible. He knows the new buzzcut and the stupid get-up probably don’t help, but you don’t look at him like he’s any different.

As he draws nearer, Tom finds himself blinking a few times, questioning how long you’ve been separated. The version of you he has holed up in his memories pales in comparison to the woman that he sees before him now, but he can’t quite pinpoint why. You seem fuller somehow—vibrant, glowing, alive, your face doused in a heavenly glow and your skin bright with health. Your figure has changed slightly, and Tom can’t stop himself from running his eyes all over you, trying to memorise every tiny detail his memory had blurred away. You look so beautiful, every single part of your form enhanced and bright, and your chest—

Fuck, it’s been a long time.

“Y/N,” he exhales the moment he’s been pushed into his seat. His guard unclasps his cuffs, and Tom immediately reaches out across the table, almost moaning from relief when you wrap your fingers around his. Your skin is so warm.

“Tom,” you whisper. Emotion seeps into your voice, and he feels his chest crack as tears pool in your eyes. “Are you okay? I— I missed you.”

He hums, biting his lip. “I’m fine, baby. I’m okay. Are you?”

You nod quickly. “I’m okay too,” you say. “Things are strange without you, but we’re working around the clock to get you out of here.” You drop your voice slightly. “I think we’re near a breakthrough.”

Tom’s teeth brush his lower lip. “Good, good,” he says. “How’s Tess? And Harry, and the others? Are they looking out for you?”

“Yeah,” you say. You squeeze Tom’s hands tightly. “They’re all okay. Mainly just worried about you.”

He shrugs, trying to lessen the furrow in your brow. “‘M all good, darling,” he promises. “Don’t worry about me.”

Your eyes skate across his face. “I like your hair,” you say gently. For a moment, Tom thinks you’re going to try and reach out to touch the buzzed fuzz, but you seem to remember that anything beyond handholding is prohibited. You have to settle for a slightly suggestive smile. “It looks good on you.”

“Thanks, lovie.”

Your smile is sad but it’s still hopeful. Whatever emotions you’re feeling, it’s clear that you’re trying to smooth them away and keep them to yourself. “There’s something I wanted to tell you,” you say, easing into the words with difficulty. Tom watches as you look away, doubt casting across your face.

“What is it?” Vaguely, Tom remembers how skittish you’d been the day he’d been taken away, the memory distorted from the noise of everything else that had happened. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah.” You bite your lower lip. “Uh, just first… how are you holding up in here? Like, actually. Don’t bullshit me and play the tough guy.” Your eyes are wide and persistent. “How are you actually doing?”

Tom blinks a few times. “Fine,” he shoots immediately. He clenches your fingers tightly in his, clinging on for a moment until he exhales. “I wish I could be here for you properly, though. It worries me that I don’t know what’s happening on the outside…” He hates being left out in the dark, but it isn’t your fault. It’s his. “I wish I could be a better boyfriend to you.”

“Fiancé,” you correct, the word soft like it’d left your mouth without thought. “You’re already a good boyfriend, Tom. I knew what I was signing up for. I wanted this back then, and I still do now.”

“Still,” he grumbles. He tries to even out the heaviness of the conversation with a smile. “I think about you all the time, baby. And the others too, but… mostly you. I just hate that I’m missing out on our life together.” He has to stop for a moment as he recollects his thoughts. “I’m sorry that I did this to us, and I’m sorry I let you down.”

You crack a wry smile. “You can’t change the past, Tom. You can only affect the future.” You pause, your expression hardening. “I need to know that you’ll go slower when you get out. I know this is your life, but some things need to change. We— I need you to stay out of trouble. Do you understand?”

He nods his head immediately. “Of course, of course. I don’t ever want to get arrested again, darling.”

You drop your voice. “I’m not saying you need to quit everything, just… get better safeguards and be smarter. I love who you are, Tom, but this…” You break off to gesture around, pointing vaguely at his cuffs, the jumpsuit, and the guards. “This isn’t good for you or for me. And I love you, but I won’t stay if you don’t try.”

It’s hard to hear, but he knows it’s what he deserves to hear. He knows you deserve to stand your ground.

“I know,” Tom says gently. “I’ll get clean when I’m out, Y/N. I promise. I’ll be a good man by you.”

You squeeze his fingers tighter. “You already are,” you promise, “and I love you so much, even when you’re being an idiot.”

He laughs breathlessly. “Thank you, darling.” Tom tilts his head to the side. “What was it you wanted to say?”

Conflict briefly colours your face, manifesting itself in the arch of your eyebrow and the biting of your lower lip. You inhale sharply, only to exhale again a moment later.

“I’ll tell you when you’re out,” you say softly.

Tom scowls. There’s no anger there, just confusion. “What are you talking about? What’s going on?”

You shake your head. “I… Pretend I never said anything,” you say. You follow it up with a quick, “if I thought you needed to know, I’d tell you.”

He doesn’t want to push it, so Tom lets the topic slip away. You sit together silently for a few minutes. It’s hard to talk, difficult to express how much he misses you, how much he’s sorry. He knows that you understand—you always do, and you have similar tears wobbling across your eyes. Talking can come afterwards when he’s out and he’s free. All he needs now is the feeling of your hand back in his.

The visit is over far too soon.

Leaving you is difficult. Tom isn’t allowed to hug you or go any nearer than the linked hands on the table, but you tug at his fingers until he feels the imprint of your engagement ring rubbing against his skin. He even manages to kiss your knuckles a few times before he’s pulled up from the table and cuffed again.

“Be on your best behaviour,” you say, soft with your parting words. “The lawyer says the better you are, the easier it’ll be to get you out early.”

Tom has a bit of his spark back. Even as he’s pulled back, he manages a devious smirk. “When am I ever not on my best behaviour, darling?”

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

A few days later, Tom snaps.

To be fair, it isn’t really his fault. He’s pushed to the very verge of insanity, prodded at and provoked beyond the point of return.

It happens when he’s in the barber, huddled in the back corner of the room as he gets a new tattoo. Tom is used to the pain of the burning needles as he already has a few pieces on his arms and his hands, so he’s able to take the fresh marks to his knuckles as the ink stains black against his skin. However, he’s a bit on edge from the sharp buzzing, which is perhaps why he responds so negatively to the taunting he starts to receive. It comes from Toni and the rest of his snivelling gang. They’re all members of the East London mob, ruled over by Tom’s nemesis Gordy. Most of the time, they stick to their side and Tom sticks to his, but they’ve caught him in a vulnerable position, and Toni never seems to know how to pick his timing.

It’s basic teasing, instilled with a brutal hard edge that would phase him if Tom cared enough about their opinions of him. It doesn’t hurt him when people attack his character or his honour—Tom knows the truth about his life, and he couldn’t give two shits about an outsider’s opinion of him. However, he finds it a lot harder to grin and bear it when the man changes angle.

“Word is, a couple of our guys saw your missus out with Haz the other day,” Toni taunts. “He said they were getting real close if you know what I mean.”

Tom’s jaw flexes. The action is minute, but it doesn’t go undetected. Toni smirks.

“Eh, you don’t like that, do you?” The man steps a little closer and Tom tries to ignore him by looking down at the needle pressing into his fingers. “Don’t like the idea of your best friend hanging around your wife. Can you even trust them?” He breaks off, laughing coolly. “They think you’re so stupid, did you know that? You’ll get out of here, and they’ll have cut you out of everything—”

“Shut the fuck up,” Tom murmurs. He flexes his right hand, shaking out his knuckles. With every passing day, he’s felt tetchier. He can feel his anger burning, churning deep within his stomach, growing brighter, harder. He knows he shouldn’t lean into it, but… He wants to. He craves that rush of the fight, selfishly so.

“But she’s not your wife, is she? You aren’t actually married. Have you ever thought that maybe she’s just using you? Maybe they all are? Look at you, Tom.” Toni breaks off to throw a disdainful hand in Tom’s direction. “You are so weak in here… How are any of your guys going to respect you when their leader can’t even stay out the slammer?”

The guy tattooing Tom’s hand finally pulls away, glancing up at him with knowing in his eyes. “You’re done,” he says. “Don’t do anything with that hand, though.”

“Thanks, man.”

Tom stands up, Toni mirroring him. The man looms in front of him, 6’2 and stocky. He’s larger than Tom in every respect, but he’ll never be the bigger man.

“Get out of my way,” Tom sneers.

“Make me, twat.” Toni smirks. “Or are you too much of a pussy to follow through on that as well?”

Tom sees red. Acting on the edge of adrenaline, he pounces, rushing the man and jumping with so much unexpected force that the larger man goes tumbling to the floor. Tom hears the shouts of the guards, but they pale in comparison to his need to straddle the man’s chest and make him pay. With each meeting of his fist with Toni’s face, Tom feels better. He’s never been an excessively violent person, but old habits die hard, and it’s so, so, so fucking easy to pummel the guy who dared breath an uncomplimentary word in his family’s direction. Tom would put the whole city six feet under if they so much as breathed wrong around his loved ones, so really, Toni had it coming.

The prison guards don’t agree.

He ends up in solitary, and when he’s put back into the normal population, Tom is given restrictions. He isn’t allowed visitors for a fortnight, and his calls are reduced to once a week. All other privileges he’d had are taken away again, and he’s relegated to the very bottom of the pecking order.

It’s still worth it.

When he’s finally allowed visitors again, Tom is surprised to learn that his next meeting isn’t with you or his lawyer. Things only make sense when he shuffles into the meeting room and sees his right-hand man settled in the corner, and if Tom had found the room drab before, it appears even more depressing with the addition of the blond man sitting in it. Harrison sucks the life from the room, any hints of happiness at being reunited with his friend overshadowed by the pinched expression on his face.

The guards don’t let Tom take off his cuffs. He has to sidle into the chair, falling into the heavy silence as he places his hands on the table. Metal links click, and Harrison just stares. He stares, and stares, and stares, his blue eyes almost black.

“So,” Tom eventually says. “Hello.”

Harrison’s jaw twitches. He brings his hands to rest on the top of the table, flexing them as he takes a moment to find the right words. “Tom,” he says, speaking very slowly. “You are a twat.”

He blinks. “Wow,” Tom mutters, chuckling slightly. “Okay. Good to see you too, mate.”

“Do you…” Harrison breaks off, groaning. His forehead develops angry ripples. “Do you understand how detrimental this has been to your case?”

Tom bites his lip, shaking his head slightly.

“You’ve been pushed to the bottom of the pile,” Harrison says, voice controlled but simmering with unspoken anger. “We were about to get your appeal passed for early release.” He sits back, crossing his arms as he shakes his head. “There’s been a penalty applied due to your stint in solitary. Your case won’t be assessed until it’s lifted.”

Tom feels his stomach drop. “Shit,” he mutters. “That’s not ideal.”

“No. No, it’s not.” Harrison sits forward, leaning on his hands. “You are a bloody idiot. Stop acting like a child… Why… Why did you even attack him? You must have known this would happen. Are you stupid?”

He doesn’t like the patronisation in his tone. Tom’s already beat himself up enough about this in solitary. He doesn’t need Harrison questioning his judgements, doesn’t appreciate his friend breathing down his neck so obviously.

“He deserved it,” Tom says firmly. “I would do it again.”

“You can’t. You absolutely cannot.”

“I think you’ll find that I can, Harrison.” There’s a stupid smirk on his lips now. Tom’s missed being a little shit to his friends. He knows it’s not the time, but he’s vibrating. The callous concoction of shame, anger and isolation make him volatile and abrasive. “I’m pretty sure I can do whatever the fuck I want, actually.”

The expression that mars Harrison’s face looks very out of place against his demeanour. The man is in a long black trench coat with a tight grey turtleneck layered beneath it. He has a few pendants hanging from his neck, the gold metal bringing out the warm tones in his curls, mussed in a way that screams of old charm and perfect romance. Harrison’s illusion of control falters only under the pressure of the anger that manifests itself so clearly on his face.

“Tom.” Harrison bangs his fist on the table. The ring wrapped around his pinky clangs against the wood. “You can’t keep this up. If you do, the case gets pushed further, and that is unacceptable.”

Tom scowls. “Well, Haz, last time I checked, I was the one who has to deal with the consequences of my actions. Not you.” He can’t stand the expression of condescension hanging over Harrison’s face. “If I want to throw a few punches, I bloody well will. You have no idea what it’s like in here. No idea at all.”

Harrison’s angered expression fades a little, but only for a moment. When Tom hardens the curve of his eyebrow, Harrison devolves into irritation again, almost snarling as he narrows his eyes. “Your actions affect everyone in your life,” he snaps. “Stop pretending you’re the only one paying for the things that you’ve done.”

“I’m the one with the cuffs, Harrison. I’d say I’m paying considerably more than anyone else.”

He shakes his head. “Yeah? Tell that to the men who had their property searched and their possessions seized. Tell that to your family, who continue to be pulled in for questioning. Tell that to Y/N, who—” he breaks off awfully quickly, cheeks flushing slightly. “Nevermind.”

Tom’s blood goes cold. “Y/N?” he repeats sharply. “What about Y/N?”

“Nothing.”

He sits up straighter. “What about Y/N, Harrison?”

“Nothing.”

Tom is angry now. “Tell me right now or god help me, I will find a way to kill you.”

Harrison rolls his eyes, then covers the movement with a sigh. “I can’t. It isn’t my place.” He seems regretful as he jumps in to add, “she’s fine. She just needs you. We all do.”

The guilt returns. It falls over Tom like a wet blanket, extinguishing his frustration and leaving him cold. “Does she… Does she hate me?” He’s looking down at his cuffs.

“What— no. No, Tom.” Harrison looks guilty for the first time, but at least he isn’t confirming Tom’s deepest insecurities. “Nothing like that at all. Just… Listen to me, alright? You need to behave. I know it’s hard in here, I know that, and I understand it must be frustrating. You just… You can’t let that rule you, Tom. You have to look at the bigger picture. You need to come home, and the sooner the better.”

It’s easier said than done, but he knows Harrison is earnest with it.

“Fine,” Tom grumbles. “I’ll behave.”

Harrison nods. “Thanks, mate,” he mutters. “We all miss you, myself included.” He glances up at him, eyes finally back to the cool blue tones Tom grew up beside. “It isn’t the same without you around.”

Tom manages a tight smile. “I miss you too.”

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

IT’S BEEN THREE MONTHS since Tom was taken away, and you are miserable.

Every day has been the same. You wake up, nauseous and alone, always on Tom’s side of the bed despite forcing yourself to fall asleep on your own. The mornings are a blur of paperwork and phone calls that follow you into the afternoon. You work around the clock, Harrison, Harry and Sam at your side as you go over Tom’s case, again and again, only stopping when night falls, and one of you throws in the towel.

You had been so close to springing him until he’d gone and got himself demoted to solitary, and there’s not a morning that you don’t think about that. You’d submitted the appeal, stacked full of so much evidence that there was no way the judge would deny him freedom, only for Tom to get into a fistfight the day before the hearing. Just like that, the floor had vanished from beneath your feet.

You’d taken it badly, the others too. Losing Tom to the judge’s gavel had been hard enough, but for his escape to be taken away by his own actions hurt a thousand times worse. You know it’s worse for him, being alone in a cell, but that doesn’t stop the bitterness seeping into your mouth every time you think about the lost chance. Harry and Sam had been incensed, their anger fuelled by the void of a missing brother, and you know Harrison’s frustration comes from similar veins.

Even now that Tom’s served his time in solitary, the frustration lingers on, manifesting itself in the way none of you could decide who should go and visit him first. Under normal conditions, you would’ve been there in a heartbeat, but… Things have been complicated, even without recent events, more so than they’d been when you’d visited two months ago. When Harrison had bitten the bullet and volunteered himself, all of you had been more than happy to let him go.

He’d left this morning, and the house has been quiet ever since.

You’re sitting up in one of the spare rooms as you wait for Harrison to return, your back aching and your mind spinning. You twirl the rings on your fingers as you think, taking turns alternating between your engagement ring and the silver signet rings you’d taken from Tom’s dresser. Keeping him close makes everything easier. You’d take any reminder of him you could get, be that his rings, his shirts, his cologne, or…

The baby.

You shift a hand down to sit on the swell of your belly. Tears prick your eyes as you let them close, a frustrated sigh tumbling past your lips.

You’re four months pregnant, and that throws a spanner in the works.

Sure, you would’ve tried equally as hard to get Tom released under normal conditions, but the biological countdown that has now been sprinkled into the mix has only given everything an air of desperation. Even if it isn’t you vocalising what everyone else is thinking, the fervour to get Tom out before it’s too late is there. You can see it in the way Harrison never lets you go anywhere unaccompanied, and Harry and Sam have been working nonstop to get their brother’s freedom. Everyone around you is aware of how vital Tom’s release is, even when the man himself remains oblivious.

Exhaling gently, you shift around on the cosy armchair. The nursery smells of fading paint, and as you move around, you glance at the messy borders of the walls. The sex of your baby is still a mystery to you, but a few days ago, the twins had freshened up the room with a shade of light green whilst you and Harrison were in court. Neither of them is particularly artistically inclined, but they’d done a pretty decent job, all things considered.

Tom’s family have all been good to you—very kind. You haven’t felt alone, even with half your heart locked away in the outskirts of London. It just hasn’t been the idyllic pregnancy you’d dreamt about with your fiancé.

Guilt falls across you as you look down at the rising swell of your belly.

It’s been hard trying to decide whether or not to tell Tom what you’d tried to come clean about three months ago, down by the Thames. You’d wanted to tell him when you’d gone to visit him, but you couldn’t find the heart to come clean and admit that he’s missing out on the one thing he’s waited for his entire life. Telling him would hurt him immensely, and he’s already hurting being away from you. You don’t want to tell him until he can be part of it, and with that uncertainty present, you’ve kept your lips sealed.

Visiting him today in place of Harrison is all you really wanted to do, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. You’re vulnerable and explosive, and you want to come clean to Tom when the situation is better. There would be nothing worse than storming into that dingy meeting room, flaunting your obvious pregnancy but being too distracted by your anger at your fiancé to explain everything else. You won’t hurt him like that by taunting him with the one thing he wants but can’t have. You refuse to.

All you can do is hope that he forgives you for holding the information back, pray that he understands your motivations, and, above all, hold onto the hope that he’s there when your child comes into the world.

“Y/N? Where are you?”

Blinking yourself from your reverie, you look up through the open door.

“In here, Sam.”

A moment later, Tom’s younger brother appears in the doorway. The man looks as exhausted as you feel, deep shadows hanging beneath his hazel eyes. When he sees you, his mouth pulls into a small smile and he lifts his hand in greeting, and you can tell that he’s trying. You try to match him by sitting up a little straighter and smiling back.

“Hey,” he says. “I was just… bored, I guess. Thought I’d come and check on you.” Doubt briefly flickers across his face. “Is that okay? Are you busy?”

“I’m bored too,” you admit. You stand from the armchair and groan as you stretch your arms, your stiff back aching. “Do you want to do something?”

Sam grins. “Fuck yeah,” he says. “Can we try the mural?”

Wincing, you manage a smile. “Okay… But if it looks terrible, I will paint over it.”

“As if. I’m the artistic one here, Y/N. Just be glad Harry’s still away.”

“Did someone mention me?” Harry’s voice rings through the air, startling you. With a hand clutching your heart, you look to your side in time to see Sam’s twin taking his place at your side. Where Sam is in a shirt and tie, Harry is clad in a pair of deep denim dungarees. He offers you a rusty smile. “We’re just filling in these lines, yeah?”

Sam’s the one to nod. He gestures at the wall and you notice the faint outlines, scratched in pencil. “Be precise,” he informs, “it took me bloody ages sketching it.”

Harry rolls his eyes, shooting you a silent smirk. “Yes, sir,” he mutters. “Anything you want, sir.”

“Fuck off.”

Harry pulls a face. “Well,” he says, looking at you pointedly, “I hope you’re keeping a record of how many times Sam is swearing around the baby, Y/N.”

Brows furrowing, you pick up a paintbrush. “Why would I be doing that?”

The ginger grins. “Just betters my case for being the better uncle,” he says.

“Oh, what? Don’t you mean the boring uncle?” Sam chides, bristling beside you.

Harry laughs. “I will be the favourite uncle. I don’t care what you say, Sammy. Both of us know it.”

Rolling your eyes at the argument you’ve heard a thousand times before, you give them both a nudge. “Shh,” you plead. “Paint, don’t fight.”

Sam shoots you a soft smile. “Yes, ma’am.”

With a smile lingering on your lips, you watch as Harry puts on one of his playlists, then relax as the three of you get to work. None of you say anything, but the air is full enough—tickled to life with Sam’s quiet whistling and the sound of paintbrushes thick against the wall. You concentrate on the intricate details of the mural, like the outlines of the clouds and the spirals of the grass, and marvel at how wonderful it is to be so content in silence. It’s indicative of how tight your bond has grown, you think.

No longer despising solitude, you’ve found a comfortable middle ground around the men. You and Tom’s inner circle have learned to work together well, stringing together complex case files as you’ve organised accounts. Nothing you’ve been doing recently is legal, but you would’ve left a long time ago if you genuinely cared about the law. You can stomach a few fixed accounts if it means Tom gets to walk free—you can stomach a whole lot more than that, actually, for Tom. You’d set the whole world on fire just to see him smile.

Like the splotchy mural covering the walls, your team has got the job done. Your case for the court is watertight, if a little messy, but you know it’ll be enough to spring Tom. It has to be. You need him, and your child needs him. Everyone in the house needs him.

“Guys? Where are you?” Harrison’s voice joins the mix just as you’re stretching up to flick a few rays of gold into the sun. Harry is at your feet, crouching on the balls of his feet as he tries to paint a few red flowers to the sprigs of grass.

“Nursery,” Harry calls out.

A few moments later, Harrison joins you. You fail to meet his eyes as the focused man sweeps into the room, billowing coat swirling around his feet. His expression is terse as he jerks off his jacket and grabs a paintbrush, dipping the tip in a bit of sky blue paint before standing at the end. You don’t rush him. He’s vibrating with something, his face flushed and his eyes dark, so you give him space.

A few minutes pass, illustrated by Harry’s playlist and the colours of the rainbow. Just when you’re beginning to worry, Harrison speaks.

“Tom is an idiot,” he states, drawing a laugh from one of the twins.

You bite your lip. “Did you explain?” you ask.

Harrison nods. He glances at you, and you note the fleck of purple paint pressed into the pale arc of his cheek. “He said he wouldn’t do it again,” he tells you. “He was angry, though. I think he’s having a bad time.”

Harry hums. “It’s hard in there,” he mumbles. “Was he still himself?”

The blond nods. “Yeah,” he says. “As snarky as ever.”

Sam smirks. “That’s Tom, alright.”

“Good news, though,” Harrison adds. “I went to the courthouse on my way back.”

“Oh?” You look away from your cloud, your heart skipping a beat. “And?”

“And,” Harrison continues, a semblance of a smile twitching across his lips, “I submitted the appeal again. They said they’d probably process it next week. So, if things go according to plan this time, he might be out by next Friday.”

You almost drop your paintbrush. Eyes widening, you turn to face him properly. “Wait, really?”

Harrison’s expression softens. “Yeah.” He puts his paintbrush down, tugging yours from your fingers as if he can tell you’re close to dropping it. “He’s almost out, Y/N.”

Relief spills across you, uncontrollable and overwhelming. Closing your eyes before those easy tears can fall down your cheeks, you step closer and push your way into Harrison’s embrace. He’s ready and waiting for the action, eager to comfort his friend.

“Thank you,” you whisper. Harrison’s chest is warm, and though his hugs aren’t as good as Tom’s, you’ve come to rely on them. You’ve come to rely on all of them. “That’s amazing news.”

“Mhmm.” He squeezes you. “This nightmare is almost over.”

“Thanks, man,” Harry speaks up. You pull away from Harrison’s hold when you hear the quivering tones in his voice, quickly glancing to the man to find him glassy-eyed and flushed. Biting your lip, you extend a hand towards him.

A group hug unfolds, as it’s had the tendency to do since Tom was taken away. The first time had been stoic and cool, with frozen elbows and embarrassed shuffling, but slowly, each one of them has loosened. They’re tough men, burdened and hard, but love ties them to you, and at your request, you know they’d do anything for you. You also know that they all enjoy the physical comfort more than they’d ever let on.

It’s been hard without Tom, and you’d do anything to have him back, but if there’s anything his absence has taught you, it’s that his brothers have become your brothers as his best friend has become your own, and you’ve never really been alone.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Tom’s release day comes quickly, hidden behind the retrial and the quick-paced days in court. It’s busy at the trial, and spaces are limited, so Harry and Sam attend in place of you and Harrison. You get them to take in a few letters for Tom and pass on your condolences for your absence, but you don’t allow yourself to get too hung up on it. When Tom’s release is announced, the weight that rolls from your shoulders is immediate.

As you wait outside the prison, you try to find solace in the rays of the mid-afternoon sun. It’s quiet in the car park, allowing you to ruminate in peace, and though you’re comfortable resting against the bonnet of Tom’s car, your thoughts are far from restful.

Anxiety weighs heavily in your chest, mixing with your excitement and creating a volatile concoction. You find yourself pacing, biting back your nerves as you try to reason with yourself. Draped around your shoulders is a long coat that obscures your bump, chosen as you’ve decided you don’t want to overwhelm Tom with too many things at once. You hope it does the job. The coat twitches in the wind as you walk, noisy and obnoxious.

Things around you are still until there’s a sudden, loud buzzing noise from the prison compound. You jerk your head around to see two men leaving the main building, small in the distance but gradually growing larger. They’re still enclosed in the fenced courtyard, but they’re on their way to the exit, and every rational thought you have flies from your mind as you see him. Tom. Your Tom.

He’s in the clothes he’d been arrested in—red shirt, black slacks, shiny shoes. Looped around his hands is his Rolex and his rings. Tom seems almost identical to how he’d been on that cursed day, just his head is buzzed and he looks a little smaller. He’s carrying himself with confidence, though, and when he looks fervently around the car park and spots you, his entire face swells with happiness. The sight of that large, lovely smile hanging from his lips brings immediate warmth to your eyes.

Every breath is easier now you have him in your sights. Overwhelming love gluts your insides, warm and emotive, choking you up. It takes everything in you to stay still as you wait for Tom to finish talking with his guard, a tall man you recognise from all of his stories, Luther. Tom’s smirking in a way that’s obviously infuriating, and the guard doesn’t hesitate to give him a light punch as your boyfriend saunters out of prison, leaving the compound with a swagger to his stride and a smile the size of Saturn.

The sight of Tom jogging towards you breaks you from your reverie, and you push yourself away from the car to meet him somewhere in the middle. Nothing matters until you’re colliding with his front, finding warmth in his arms, feeling his entire body shake as his tears fall into your hair. Nothing matters unless it’s him.

“I missed you so much,” you whisper. Your grip on the back of Tom’s shirt is hard, a violent sprawling across your knuckles, but you won’t let go. You’re giddy with love. “Fuck, Tom, I missed you so, so much.”

You pull away from his chest and look into his eyes, your lower lip wobbling as you note the fresh tears on his face. You use your thumbs to brush beneath his cheeks, flicking away the tears as you clean up his handsomeness.

“I missed you so much more,” he promises. Tom brings a hand to rest on the back of your head, breath hitching as he meets your eyes. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

He kisses you, and it’s so intense you end up pressed against the side of the car. Tom moans with relief as he strokes his fingers over the side of your face, delicately reacquainting his lips with yours as they meet again and again. You keep your hands gliding over his back, his arms, his shoulders, letting your tongues come together as tears flow down your cheeks. The kiss is everything and nothing, familiar and new. The kiss says I missed you. It says I thought about you every day. It says I would wait a thousand dawns if it meant I got to wake up beside you again, but thank fucking god you’re here right now because I missed you more than I ever thought was possible.

“Baby,” Tom murmurs. He pulls away but keeps your foreheads pressed together, the cool tip of his nose brushing yours. “You’re so perfect. I missed you so much that it hurt me.”

He tries to move closer, but you become aware of the pressure to your belly, so bring a gentle hand to push his shoulder away. Hurt immediately floods to his eyes, his expression twitching as Tom takes a few steps back.

“Tom,” you say, voice soft. “I need to tell you something.”

Tom’s jaw twitches. “What is it?” he whispers.

“A good thing,” you clarify. You reach up to wipe the residue of your tears away, then bring your hands down to the tie of your jacket. Biting your lip, you take a steadying breath. “I hope you aren’t angry that I didn’t tell you sooner,” you preface, “but I did it for you.”

Tom nods intensely. “Okay,” he says. “It’s okay. Whatever it is, it’s fine. I’m… I’m here, okay? For anything. It’s me and you. Just… me and you forever.”

A smile flickers across your face. “Me and you, and…” You gently open the front of your coat, then reach out for Tom’s hands. Guiding them slowly, you bring the warmth of his palms to rest on the rise of your bump.

“Wait…” Tom shifts his hands around your belly before staring up at you, slack-jawed. He doesn’t try to hide the obvious tears in his eyes. “You’re…?”

Nodding your head is easier than trying to speak.

“Oh god.” Tom sniffles. “What?” He immediately drops to his knees in front of you, his fancy dress trousers getting dirty in the dust. “How— how far along?”

“Almost five months,” you whisper. “I found out right before you got back from Liverpool. I was going to tell you when we went on that date, but…”

“But I fucked up.” Tom sounds wrecked, his aching eyes fixed on the curve of your belly. “I fucked everything up. I… I left you alone for this entire time, and you had to do this all without me.” He rests his forehead against your bump, very, very gently, and you see him close his eyes. “I am a terrible partner.”

Rolling your fingers over the scruff of his hair, you guide him up to look at you. It’s second nature as you roll a thumb over his cheekbone, trying to instil the action with love and reassurance.

“I’m not angry,” you tell him. “You didn’t know, and you didn’t get arrested on purpose. If anything, you should be angry at me for keeping this a secret.” Your teeth catch your lower lip. “I didn’t want to hurt you, but I thought telling you would only make things worse. I’m sorry.”

Tom shakes his head. “No, no. Don’t apologise.” He rests a hand on your leg, the other still on the curve of your front. “I’m sorry.” He drops his voice and looks at the bump. “And I’m sorry to you too, little one.” He nudges his mouth forward and deposits a soft kiss to your stomach. “I love you too.”

Digging one of your hands into your coat pocket, you pull out a photo. “Here,” you urge, handing it to your boyfriend. Tom takes it after a moment, his eyes slow to move away from your front.

He releases a noise somewhere between an exclamation and a choke, nimble fingers gripping the image from your ultrasound. His cheeks flush a brilliant rose.

“When was this?” he whispers.

“At three months,” you reply. You continue to run your hand over the top of his head, trying to soothe him as he absorbs so much information at once. “I went with my mum and Haz.”

“Haz?”

You nod. “Harry and Sam lost a bet.”

Tom hums. He looks between the photo and your bump, then nudges forward to kiss the rise again. His lips are so warm you can feel them through the material of your dress. “Have they been looking after you well enough?”

A light laugh slips past your lips. “Yeah,” you promise. “They helped so much, Tom. It was hard at first… Really hard. Especially when we thought you’d be in there for five years, but… Things worked out.” You have to pause to gather your thoughts. “We converted one of the rooms into a nursery. There’s still stuff left to do, and we can do that together, of course, but… They were all really helpful.”

“Good.” Tom looks up at you, still kneeling, and your hand slips down to cup his face. “I’m sorry,” he adds. “I wish I could’ve been here for all of this.”

Shrugging gently, you squeeze his face. “You can be here for the rest of it,” you promise. “And, I guess… If we have another one, you’ll be there for all of that, right?”

“Of course, darling.” You smile as Tom tilts his lips to knock against the side of your palm.

“So it’s okay.”

“Are you sure?”

Chuckling softly, you nod. “Yes,” you promise. “I love you, and I’m so happy this has happened for us, even if the timing was difficult.” Feeling yourself well up, you exhale slowly. “We’re going to be parents, Tom. Isn’t that crazy?”

“It’s brilliant.” Tom’s eyes sparkle. “I’m going to be a father.” He blinks. “What the fuck.”

Laughing, you move your hands to the crown of his head. “Yeah, it’ll take a while to get used to that.”

“I’ll get there,” he states. Tom returns his attention to the bump. “Hey, little one,” he coos, voice all silk and amber tones, “it’s going to be the biggest honour of my life being your dad.”

Tom spends a while at your feet, speaking softly to you and your bump, and you keep your hand resting on the back of his head. He’s weary when he finally climbs to his feet but regains some of that spark when you step forward to kiss him. You don’t mean to make it as heated as you do, but it hasn’t only been your heart that’s missed Tom. You’ve craved him, constantly, during every single lonely night, and now that he’s here, you’re willing to take everything you can get.

“I love you,” you say, hushed against his mouth.

Tom’s teeth brush over your lower lip, and you moan when he tugs. There’s a fervour to it, hot lust burning through sensitive emotions. He releases your lip and pulls back to stare at you, his eyes rippling darker.

“I love you too,” he murmurs. He brings his hands to your waist, pulling you closer. “I love everything about you.”

Your mouths come back together, and it’s messier than before, your lips wettening as your kisses become wilder. Tongues dance and teeth clash as your body temperature starts to rise. Now you’ve moved through the emotional reunion, you’re left with an underlying pulse—a heat throbbing persistently between your legs. The fire builds as you hear Tom’s grunts and feel the desperation in his hands when they grab at your sides and jerk you closer, his mouth devouring yours until your lips are puffy and tender. You’re greedy, chasing more, desiring everything you’ve missed out on in the months you’ve been apart from your lover.

“Darling,” Tom murmurs, breaking the kiss to whisper hotly against your lips, “I missed you, but if you keep this up, we’re not going to get home.”

Desire takes hold of you. “Who said I wanted to go home?” You push in closer, shifting slightly until you’re able to feel the hardness of his crotch pressing up against your thigh. The familiarity of it all makes you inhale sharply. You drop your tone, trying to seem coy as you speak, “I don’t think you understand how badly I needed you whilst you were away, Tom. I missed you.”

The tips of his teeth glint as he arches his brows. “Well…” Tom mumbles. “I owe you about four months of lost opportunities.” He swallows, briefly breaking from the lust-filled headspace to look guilty. You smooth it away by reaching down to squeeze at his hands. “If my radiantly stunning fiancé decides she wants me to start repenting for that now, then who am I to stop her?”

Rolling your eyes, you step away from the car. “You’re a suck-up,” you taunt. You plant a light kiss to his lips. “C’mon,” you urge. “The car.”

He wiggles his eyebrows. “The backseat?” he teases. “Shit, angel. You must be desperate.”

Warmth tickles your face. “Shut up.”

Tom smirks deviously. “It’s okay,” he soothes. He darts forward to open the car door for you, resting his hand on your lower back as you step forward. “I’m just as desperate as you, baby.”

“I hate you,” you murmur. Tom follows you into the car, shutting the door behind you both. You wait for him to sit before straddling his lap, your legs stretching until you have a shin planted on either side of his thighs. The position is comfortable, with enough space between your bump and his chest for you to breath, and you whimper as Tom bends nearer to ghost his lips over yours.

“No, you don’t,” he murmurs.

You want to tease him, but you couldn’t even if you wanted to. You’re alright with too much adoration to even think about pressing it down.

“I really don’t,” you agree.

Tom makes a soft noise of vindication, the tip of his nose brushing yours for just a moment until he’s bearing down and bringing your lips together. You sigh, reaching up and urging him closer. His lips are lovely, and you enjoy kissing them for a while, but then you find yourself distracted by the open expanse of his neck. With his hair buzzed, you’re keenly aware of his throat, pale and sensitive, and if there’s one thing you remember about your boyfriend, it’s his affinity for lovebites.

You bring your lips to the side of his neck, nuzzling your mouth against the long, pale stretch of his throat. Smirking against his skin, you start to suckle deep hickeys against the side of his neck, revelling in the throaty gasps Tom deposits into the air in response.

“Fuck, darling,” Tom whines. He has a hand on your back, urging you closer. When you graze the tips of your teeth against his skin, he whimpers. “Shit. More.”

“More?” you tease. “Forgotten all your manners, Tom?”

He growls. The hand on your back shifts to the back of your head, and he jerks you ever closer. He’s still mindful, especially of the bump laying between you, but he knows just as well as you that you aren’t a piece of porcelain; you like being tugged around. You’ve missed it.

“Give me what I want, and maybe I’ll return the favour.” He says it like you’re oblivious to the desperation in his words. You decide to oblige him.

“Okay,” you murmur. You look up to meet his gaze, his honey-brown eyes full of appreciation. For a moment, it knocks you off balance. It’s so strange readjusting to having Tom back—almost overwhelming to be able to touch someone who had existed only in your memories for so many weeks. You drop your head and give him what he wants.

Tom’s skin tastes clean, and it smells distantly of pinecones. He groans, fisting at your hair and holding you close as you kiss and suck along his skin, drawing deep hues to the surface of his neck. He shifts in his seat, basking in the pain and whining every time you soothe a fresh mark with the warmth of your tongue. You keep your hand resting on his hair, the cropped length of his buzz prickly and coarse beneath the pads of your fingertips.

“Oh god yeah,” he murmurs, voice mingling with the wet noises coming from your lips. “Your mouth is so fucking good, baby. I missed it.” Grunting, he brings a hand to your waist, squeezing the flesh of your hips hard. “I thought about you all the time in there.”

Tom releases his hold on your hair and begins to stroke his hands over your back. As you continue to mark his neck, he starts to tease you, gradually dropping the heat of his palms lower and lower. You can’t stop yourself from bucking down into his hold, moaning against his neck as he grabs handfuls of your ass.

“Tom,” you break off to whimper, panting softly. You feel dizzy on the taste of his skin. “You’re being mean.”

“Mean?” you can hear the smirk in his voice. “How am I being mean?” Tom squeezes the curves of your figure, his slender fingers warm against your skin. You’re in a dress, the material thin, and he doesn’t hesitate to curve his hands beneath the hem and bring them to rest over your panties. “You’re the one who wanted to come in here and get your hands all over me… I’m doing what you asked.” He breaks off, chuckling darkly. “That’s not how things usually work, though, is it?”

The air between you shifts.

You pull away from Tom’s neck, your mouth inflamed and throbbing. You have to dig your teeth into your lower lip to muffle your whimper when Tom brings a hand to the front of your legs, gently brushing two of his long fingers over the front of your panties. He’s teasing with it, eyes alight with deviousness, jaw set in a determined line.

“I don’t know,” you whisper. “Maybe I want to be in charge this time.”

Tom laughs gently. “Oh, yeah?” He rubs your cunt a little faster, causing you to suck in a sharp breath as you feel the delicate pressure on your clit. The contact makes your passage clench, growing wet enough to dampen the front of your panties. “So you don’t like this, hmm? You don’t want me to follow through on everything I have planned for you?”

“What have you got planned?”

He tuts. “Oh, I’m not going to tell you, angel. That’d be too easy. Either you want me to be in charge, or you decide to call the shots.” Tom smirks as he feels you buck down against his hand. Maybe if the circumstances were different, you’d find the strength to push back, but you don’t. It’s been so long, and your cunt is weeping already just from the husky tones in his voice.

“You’re in charge,” you whisper. The vindicated smirk he flashes in response is enough to send shivers down your spine.

“Damn right, baby.” Tom moves his hands away, pressing them to your waist instead. “Can you lay down for me, please?”

You shuffle across the car seat as instructed, Tom shifting until he’s kneeling in the footwell of the backseats. It’s a good thing the car is obscenely huge, otherwise, the already-cramped fit would be unworkable.

Draping your legs over Tom’s shoulders, he pushes the hem of your dress up, bunching it just above your bump. The hungry fire in his eyes fades slightly.

“Is this okay? Are you comfy?”

“It’s fine,” you soothe. “Are you okay down there?”

Tom nods. The scruff of his buzzed head scratches against your inner thighs. “I’m bloody perfect,” he responds. “Can I touch you?”

“Please do.”

The tip of his nose nuzzles against your covered clit. “Perfect,” Tom purrs, his breath hot against your panties. “I think it’s time I remind you who owns this fucking pussy… As hot as it was when you were trying to tell me what to do, it’s not on.” He brings his mouth away from your core, and you whimper as his tongue laps gently across your thigh, the muscle deliciously slippery. “I’m the one calling the shots.”

You’re throbbing, every inch of you aching for his touch. The burn is visceral—pulsing, wet. “Yes, sir,” you return. Tom’s eyes snap to yours. “Do whatever you want.”

“Say please.”

Swallowing the dryness in your throat, you add, “please.”

“Good, baby. You sound so pretty begging for me.” Tom easily pulls your panties down your legs, returning to push your thighs further apart. He brings both of his thumbs to your sensitive lips, humming when you whimper. Using the pads of his fingers, he gently parts your centre, groaning softly at the sight. “Say it,” he murmurs, entranced by the paradise between your legs. “Tell how badly you want me.”

He’s incredibly infuriating, but you play right into his hand. “Please, Tom,” you whine. “Please touch me.”

He hums. “Of course, lovie,” he murmurs. He glances up at you. “All you had to do was ask.”

The first touch of his tongue against your slit makes your eyes roll back. A breathless whine slips past your lips as his mouth envelops your clit, the strong tip of his tongue nuzzling over your sensitive skin in a way you’ve only dreamed of. You’ve been able to get off in his absence, but nothing can simulate the sizzling heat of his mouth and his tongue, nor the scratching of his short hair against your fleshy inner thighs.

The way he unravels you is obscene, toned with the sounds of spit and lazy lips, the sensations of desperation. Tom devours you, using his elbows to push your thighs apart as he buries his face as close to your centre as possible. You can barely see him over the rise of your belly, but you can certainly feel him. When you start to grind down against his face, things only escalate, your eyes fluttering shut as your spine arches in response to his feverish movements.

“Oh god,” he murmurs, voice thick as it vibrates across you. “Missed this… Tastes so fucking good, sweetheart.”

Your high rolls over you suddenly and without warning, manifesting itself in a silent cry as your body goes rigid. You hear Tom hum in surprise, then feel his hands lock around your thighs, holding back your legs as they shake in the face of absolute pleasure.

“Sorry,” you pant, recovering gradually, “I didn’t know that was going to happen then.”

Tom runs his tongue over your slit, still sensitive and throbbing. “‘S okay, lovie,” he replies, voice warm. He nuzzles in closer and brings two slender fingers to push against your entrance. Your hole is hot and pulsing, pooled with your arousal. You hear it pucker as he gently presses against your cunt, teasing your entrance with his fingertips. “I’m not done making it up to you, though. Is that okay?”

Exhaling, you nod quickly. “Fuck yeah,” you say, struggling to think. “Oh.”

He slips two fingers into you, your eager walls parting and welcoming him in. Tom removes his mouth from your heat and replaces his tongue with the pad of a thumb, and when you release a loud noise of strangled enjoyment, he begins to crook his fingers into you. He strokes his digits against your walls with poise and elegance, nudging up against your g-spot and stroking, again and again, chasing the noises you release.

“So pretty,” he coos. “My pretty baby. Making all those beautiful noises.” Tom smiles almost proudly. His chin is wet with your arousal. “I love your cunt… Look at how well it's taking me.” To prove his point, he feeds a third finger alongside the others. “So greedy for me, eh? Greedy little pussy. So hot. So wet. God…”

Tom drops his head again, disappearing from your sight of vision. You moan, body jerking as you feel his tongue move around his fingers, catching the arousal that seeps from your pussy as he works you open. He releases an obscene moan before dragging his mouth to your clit, stimulating you with his hands and tongue in tandem.

“Holy fuck,” you whimper. You feel hot in the best way, your skin becoming sweaty as you writhe over the leather seat. “Feels so good, Tommy.” It feels like heaven—especially when he bends his fingers and the tips of them stroke up against your sensitive spot. “‘M gonna cum again.”

“Already?”

“Yeah.”

Tom chuckles. “I’m so good at this,” he murmurs. “Go on, angel. Don’t hold back on my account… You’re so pretty when you cum.”

The tide breaks, and your climax rolls across you, legs trembling as Tom holds you in place. You writhe as you bask in the heat, your knuckles losing blood as you clench your hands into hard fists. The press of your nails against the soft flesh of your palms hurts, but you don’t care. It feels far too good to think about anything beyond Tom.

You ride it out, and Tom eventually draws his face away from your clit. He kisses along your inner thighs as you gasp for air, only removing his fingers when you start to whimper. As good as the climaxes have felt, panting for breath on the backseat, it isn’t enough. It isn’t enough by far.

“Get up here,” you say breathlessly.

Tom chuckles as he appears from between your legs. He gives your thighs a little tap before he closes your legs, wriggling out of the footwell as you sit up. Easily, like you’ve done a thousand times before, you swing a leg over Tom’s lap, straddling him when he sits with his back against the car seat.

“Are you okay up there?” he checks, bringing his clean hand to rest on the curve of your stomach. When you nod, his brown eyes darken. “Perfect…” he hums. “Clean off my fingers, will you?”

You nod, opening your mouth expectantly and moaning as Tom slips three of his fingers between your lips. Fighting your smirk, you maintain eye contact with him, your pride swelling as you see his cheeks darken. He gently fucks his fingers into your mouth, making you moan at the movements and the taste of your heat as it spreads across your tongue. He’s messy with it, and you feel your lips and chin grow heavy from spittle.

“Pretty,” he coos, “so, so pretty.”

Tom goes to move his fingers from your mouth, only for a detail to make you pause. Eyes straining, you reach up to catch his wrist, holding his hand in place just as his fingers pull away from your lips.

“What’s this?” you query, narrowing your eyes. You drag Tom’s left hand nearer your face, gasping softly as you take note of a new tattoo resting at the bottom of his ring finger.

“Oh.” Tom shifts around slightly, biting at his lower lip. “I got your initials tattooed… When we get married, the ring will cover them, but I wanted you with me—I want you with me—all the time, even without a bit of metal.” He hesitates. “Is that okay?”

You press a delicate kiss across the letters. “Yes,” you say. You feel shy as you meet the eyes of the man who loves you so immensely. “That’s really, really sweet, Tom.” You bite your lip as you look up at him. “Gone soft on me, baby?”

“‘M always soft on you,” he says gruffly, guiding a hand to your face. He brings you closer, encouraging you to lean higher on your knees. “Love of my life, angel. You know that… My wife.”

You shift on his lap, smiling bashfully. “I’m not your wife yet.”

“Soon, soon, soon,” he whispers.

Both of you come together, no words needing to be exchanged for you to know what to do. Tom loses his clothes as you sit up a little straighter, one of your hands curling around the headrest of a seat as Tom angles himself slightly. With the rise of your bump between you, you aren’t able to be flushed together like times before, but the man beneath you is quick to readjust so he’s laying further back, giving you plenty of room to move in a way that’s comfortable. He kisses over your knuckles as you run his hard cock through your slit, his interested eyes fixed firmly on the sight of his length as you finally begin to move down.

The moment the head of his cock pushes into you feels indescribable. The ache of the stretch falls away as relief pours over you, the closeness satisfying far more than just your arousal.

“Gentle, gentle,” Tom murmurs, hand resting on your belly. “Be careful.”

You chuckle, beginning to move but only slowly. “It’s okay,” you reassure him, “it won’t hurt them.” Your eyes roll back slightly as you bring your hand down to rest on Tom’s shoulder, moaning quietly. “You can move too… Please, move.”

“Okay, darling.” Tom gently starts to move his hips. He groans as he slumps back against the seat, beautiful face coloured light pink. You’d missed the expressions he makes, how emotive the slants of his features can be. His nostrils flare and his jaw tenses as you ride him, your cunt so wet the movements are almost effortless. “That feels… so good.” His voice is hollow, gutless. “I can’t tell you how long I’ve been thinking about you. You, and your hot cunt.” He moans again, unable to sit around the words. Tom ruts into you a little harder, guiding you to move faster with the hand on your hip. “Taking me so well, darling. So fucking well. I’m not going to last at all.”

“That’s okay,” you murmur. “I won’t either.”

Tom manages a lazy smirk. He opens his eyes as he brings a hand to your clit, teasing the sensitive bud with his thumb. You jerk a little at the stimulation but start to ease into it, basking in the pleasure from the bud and Tom’s cock. He’s buried deep within you, pressing your walls apart, the curved tip of his head brushing deeper than you’ve felt in months.

“So tight,” he murmurs. Tom leans back, clearly enjoying the sight of you riding him. “My darling. You look so beautiful like this… I swear your tits are bigger, too.” The hand on your belly gently caresses the bump, Tom’s tongue briefly wandering out to wet his lower lip. “Look at how beautiful you are… I can’t wait to knock you up again.”

Stifling a moan, it takes everything in you to focus on your movements. “You feel so good, Tom,” you whimper, unable to hold back the praise he loves to hear. “I missed this so much.”

“I know, baby. I missed this too… Come on, now.” His voice hardens slightly. “I’m about to cum, but I don’t want to unless you’re right here beside me. So… will you be a good girl and finish with me? Please?”

Heat flushes through your system as you bounce your head quickly. Your eyes close, breath hitching as you feel your climax rise. It starts in the pit of your stomach, a coil pulling tighter and tighter until it bends and snaps, bursting wide and spilling pleasure across your body in warm waves of enjoyment. You cry out as you fall apart, holding Tom’s shoulder tightly as his hand clamps around your waist. You feel him mirror you, hear his loud groan as his cock pulses inside you, your movements unceasing as you ride it out together.

It ends, but you stay joined. Tom sits up, the distance put between you by your belly requiring him to stretch closer and seize your lips in a smouldering kiss. His hand returns to your cheek, yours to his, and the look in his eyes is dizzying.

“I love you so much,” he speaks, words soft like a promise. “Everything I do from here on out is for you, and…” He glances back at your stomach. “And our child.” Words thickening, you see Tom’s eyes well with tears again. He chuckles, cheeks flushing red. “Sorry,” he adds. “I get a bit choked up thinking about it.”

You stroke your fingers over the back of his hair, spiky strands smooth against your hand. “Don’t apologise for expressing your emotions, baby,” you whisper. “It’s been a very long day.”

Tom nods. “Love you,” he murmurs again. He nuzzles his head into the palm of your hand, his eyes closing.

“I love you too,” you say, words truer than they’ve ever been before. You bend down to kiss his forehead. “Do you want to go home now?”

He hums. “Y/N,” he whispers. Tom blinks up at you, eyes soft. He catches the palm of your hand with a few kisses as he sits up a little straighter. “I’m already home.”

Teeth grazing your lower lip, you hold back your smile as you marvel at how clichéd he’s become. You bend down and kiss him very gently. “Sap,” you murmur. “Love you, though.”

Tom pulls a face. He rolls his eyes, but there’s no malice—only love. “Love you too,” he says. “Yes, though,” he adds, “I would love to go home.”

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

finis

yay

that’s probably a wrap on mob!tom ! i don’t have any more fic ideas for him :( that being said, this was a lot of fun to write, and i really, really hope you liked it :D ik the theme isn’t everyone’s cup of tea, so if you read it all, i love you very very much

please let me know if you have any thoughts!!

masterlist through the link in my bio <3

#tom holland x reader #tom holland smut #tom holland x reader smut #mob!tom x reader #mob!tom holland #mob!tom holland smut #y/n #self insert #smut #mob!tomfic

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fruggo · 3 years

Note

Hello ! I saw the enemies fo lovers things and I wanna request if possible

“ rich coming from the guy who tried to kill me three days ago. “

With frank if you would and thank you

yessirrr i love frank sm it’s not ok. also umm i may have accidentally written friends to enemies to lovers or something idk. and though i wouldnt necessarily call you friends at the start, you werent really enemies yet???? idk🐸just ummm yeh i love frank

also help how do i not go overboard???? i feel like i made this way too long, please help and i am sorry

warnings: canon-typical violence, swearing, frank being a bastard but then you’re like awwww he’s a cute bastard aaaaw

Things were weird with Frank, and they always had been from the moment you stepped foot in the Entity’s realm. He always tunneled you relentlessly, and that made you think of him as a big asshole, but there were some strange details tacked onto the sentiment that greatly confused you, should you think about it for more than three seconds.

Sometimes, it seemed like he went easy on you in chases, like he put in no effort. He would chase you for a while, let you waste his time, and then leave without even getting a hit on you when he definitely had the ability to.

And you hated saying this, but when he handled you, it almost felt…gentle. Granted, he was a killer, and his job was to murder you, but your experiences with him did not quite line up with those of the other survivors.

They always described trials against Frank as “stepping on legos in the middle of the night” or something akin to that. You never felt like that, though—when he chased you, it felt fair. Almost as if he played nice with you. And more often than not, the killer would let you go when he caught you. The reason remained a mystery to you until quite a bit later.

This trial, Frank was in 100% bastard mode. You had begun to think of his trials as quite easy due to his seemingly calm nature around you, so you were rather caught off guard when he downed you in the first 30 seconds of the match and tossed you onto a hook, no gentleness whatsoever.

You wanted to yell at him and ask what the fuck was wrong with him until you realized this was his fucking job, and this is how he should have been treating you all along. Maybe you had just been imagining it all, but you could have sworn he used to leave you alone more than this. Something just felt different.

After you were unhooked, he went for you again. And again. And then you were dead, completely wiped out of the trial. Frank had demolished you with no remorse.

You knew it was silly to feel betrayed, but you really couldn’t help it. In such an insane and hellish place, anything that could be even remotely perceived as kindness seemed like so much more of a big deal than it truly was. So Frank’s supposed “gentleness” with you had felt somewhat like a friend doing you a selfless favor. Of course, it was not a selfless favor, and it was certainly nowhere near kindness, because he was still a killer chasing you with a knife, but your standards had really lowered in this place.

After that trial, you were back to hating Frank for tunneling and bullying you (like you probably should). You began to understand the survivors’ saying about the legos—and you hoped that Frank would step on some legos too, because he fucking sucked sometimes.

And for a while, that’s just how it was. You nearly forgot how he used to go easier on you, and how you used to do okay in his matches. Now every time you were pit against each other it just felt like you were being stuck with a bunch of pins; you never had any time to breathe or rest or do literally anything. He just went after you until you were gone, and there was next to nothing you could do about it.

Everything changed very suddenly during a trial at Ormond.

You were expecting the same old routine with this asshole—chase, blah blah blah, die. You hardly had energy to fight back anymore.

So when he arrived out of breath at the killer shack, somehow knowing you would be here, Frank was surprised to find you relaxing under the window with your arms loosely crossed, a disapproving scowl upon your countenance. It was enough to make him hesitate in his tracks.

You let out a deep breath, refusing to break eye contact with his mask; you kept up that menacing frown for as long as you could, trying to make him feel guilty (who knows if it was even possible for him to feel guilty? But it was worth a try).

“Just kill me,” you said, voice steady and seemingly unbothered. Underneath the surface, you were trembling, but you stood your ground. “That’s what you’re gonna do, isn’t it? You’re going to chase me until I’m miserable and kill me off as soon as you can?”

Frank went still, not even fidgeting with his knife like he usually did; he was intrigued by your sudden confidence.

You went on. “I’m really sick and tired of you, you know that? I’m sick of you and your bullshit. Why can’t you treat me like everybody else? At first, you went easy on me. Now you just torture me with your stupid mind games, and frankly, I’m sick of playing! I’m done with you—I don’t care anymore! Just kill me, and I’ll get out of your way, okay asshole? Mori me if you want. I don’t give a shit.”

You put your hands up exasperatedly, fully expecting him to take the offer and just send you back to the campfire right then and there. But the man sighed, pocketed his knife, and sat down right next to you as if this were a normal thing for him to do.

You scooted a few inches away out of instinct. Frank noticed, but he chose not to say a word about it.

It was a long time before he said anything, and when he finally did, you wanted to punch him so bad.

“It’s complicated,” he mumbled. And that was all.

Oh, yeah? It was complicated? You scoffed, hanging your head with a bitter smile. “Oh, okay. Sure.”

Silence again.

Awkward, suffocating silence.

And then Frank got up and left. You were unbothered for the remainder of the trial, not even a scratch or bruise on your body.

Sometimes you simply did things, and you didn’t know why. This thing that you just did was irrational, stupid, unplanned, unwise, and everything in-between, and you knew it was, but frequently you just had no impulse control. Perhaps it was the Entity’s influence, or maybe you had always been this way—you couldn’t really remember.

How did you get here again? Why were you laying on the ground? And why did your leg hurt so fucking much?

Oh, yes. Yes, yes, you remember now.

Funnily enough, it seems as though the Entity, along with certain killers, did not like it when survivors tried to enter their side of the forest! But you did it anyways, and it appeared that you had suffered the consequences. It’s not like you had put much thought into it; where was the point in that when nothing mattered anymore and you were stuck in an endless cycle of death?

You remembered entering the killer’s woods, looking around, and doing…something. What was that something? You couldn’t be sure, but then you remembered somebody coming up to you and probably definitely hurting you. Yep, your leg definitely was in a lot of pain. You couldn’t even look at it. Did you pass out for a while? Maybe. How long were you out for?

You lay still there for a while, thinking. Man, it really hurt, and boy, were you miserable. Maybe more miserable than you’d ever felt here. The Entity normally healed wounds immediately, but perhaps you had just angered it so much you deserved to suffer.

Oh, dear! You seemed to be passing out at this time. Yes, that was almost certainly what was happening. Black spots danced across your eyes as your body began to feel distant and numb, but you didn’t feel very worried about it. In fact, you felt like making jokes right now, but you had nobody to make jokes to and you probably couldn’t even speak.

Just as you began to accept it, there was a strange thumping sensation vibrating through the ground growing closer…and closer…

Footsteps! That’s good!

Oh. Not if it’s a killer. That’s not good, probably.

But you had no way of protesting when you felt yourself being picked up, because those black spots in your eyes were dancing a lot faster now, perhaps something akin to an Irish jig, and you also couldn’t feel your limbs.

Then you were fast asleep again, dreaming of Irish dancers who were actually big fluffy cloud people wearing leprechaun clothes. Nobody but you would ever know this, and it was going to stay that way.

On the bright side, it made it a lot easier for your rescuer to carry you to safety like this.

When you awoke once more, you were horrified to find yourself in the Ormond lodge of all places. You knew immediately what had happened and were determined to escape as soon as possible.

Your injured leg proved to be a huge problem, however, and you collapsed the second you attempted to find freedom. Trying again, you collapsed once more, and probably maimed yourself further in the process.

Hearing the commotion from the second floor, your least favorite member of The Legion descended down from the main stairs, refusing to look directly at you even as he scooped you up and plunked you (gently) back onto the couch, which was rather comfortable (not that you would ever tell him that).

So he was playing it cool, huh?

Okay. You could play it cool, too. You were cool. Smooth as butter.

No. You really couldn’t be cool in a situation like this, and plus, your mind was still a little woohoo since whatever accident had occurred. Suddenly you blurted out, “Frank, I hate your guts.”

And he had the audacity to laugh. He laughed at you! He did the man chuckle thing, as if what you were saying was funny. No! You were completely serious! You did hate his guts!

Perhaps your face showed how upset you were, because he started to apologize (still laughing).

“Maybe you should go back to sleep,” Frank said after calming down a bit.

No. You couldn’t go back to sleep. You did not want to experience dancing cloud people dressed as leprechauns ever again in your life, for the rest of eternity. Never again.

So you shook your head violently, refusing to give an explanation, which just provoked Frank to anger all of a sudden. If you went back to sleep, he could have some alone time while the rest of The Legion was gone. He kept pushing, and you kept resisting, and he pushed and you resisted, until finally he gave up and let you off with a warning. If you made him mad again, he was throwing you out in the snow.

Fine with me, you said. Okay, I’ll do it right now, he said. No balls, you said.

So then Frank casually went to scoop you up in his arms again, and you started to freak out and beat your hands against his chest until he put you back down. He was was awfully mindful of your hurt leg for someone who was about to throw you into the snow.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry—please don’t throw me out,” you fussed. You thought he wouldn’t actually do it. You didn’t know it, but you were right—he was just messing with you because it was funny seeing you scared.

After a bit more griping back and forth, Frank began to grow concerned about your leg. He didn’t know how to bring up the topic because things were so odd between the two of you; this was your first interaction since the brief encounter in the shack. But he swallowed his pride, because the wound seemed to be getting worse by the minute.

“Hey, do you want me to, uhh…get some supplies?” Frank asked awkwardly. When you didn’t understand, he continued, “Your leg? It looks like it hurts…I could fix it if you want.”

You barked out a laugh at his words, unbelieving of this shift in attitude. “Rich coming from the guy who tried to kill me three days ago,” you snickered, genuinely finding it amusing.

Frank took offense. He was trying to be nice for once, and you thought it was funny. And his situation really was complex, whether you chose to believe it or not. Maybe he should just tell you to get it off of his chest.

“Listen,” he said, voice laced with seriousness. “When I told you things were complicated, I meant it.”

Sensing the mood change from his tone and body language, you stopped smiling and decided to pay attention to him. Just this once. Never again. After this you could go back to hating him.

Frank continued. “The Entity was going to start…well, hurting me, if I didn’t start doing better in trials. I really didn’t want to sacrifice you, which is embarrassing to admit, but I’ll say it. And I don’t think it liked that.”

You were surprised. And also relieved that you had been right all along—he had been going easy on you at first.

“Why me, though?” you asked, confused. “Why wouldn’t you want to sacrifice me? What about the other survivors?”

If the slight tilt of his head at your question didn’t answer it for you, the way he started tapping his feet and cracking his knuckles so nervously did.

Boy, if looks could kill, you would have died instantly at the scowl Frank sent your way; you grinned pridefully at the realization that this man was down bad. You couldn’t see the expression behind his mask, though, which Frank was thankful for.

He hated every second of this, but you loved it. You reveled in his embarrassment.

Leaning forward on your hands, you begged, “Tell me more! I want to hear all about your feelings for me.”

“I could stab you right now, you know that?”

“But you won’t. You liiiiike me!”

“What are you, eight years old?”

“No, but I am severely injured and have lost a lot of blood so I am not necessarily in the right headspace at the moment.”

“You make a fair point.”

“So tell me! What’s your favorite thing about me?”

“Your ass.”

“No, really.”

“Okay, your ass and your hair.”

“You know what, Frank, I still hate your guts.”

“No, you don’t.”

You paused for a moment. It was probably the blood loss talking, you decided later, but you said, “No. Maybe I don’t.”

#:) i kinda rly like this ahaha it was fun #i hope it’s okay <3 #fruggo writes #requests #enemies to lovers prompt #frank morrison x reader #frank morrison #the legion x reader #the legion #dbd x reader #dbd oneshot #dbd writing #dead by daylight x reader #dead by daylight #dbd #dbd frank

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writingfics-passingtime · 3 years

Text

Playing the Part

~8300 words of steamy Loki tickle fluff

PG13 for this one, kids. Lots of making out.

CW: some swearing, suggestive humour, mentions of murder/death, alcohol consumption

Every job has its ups and downs, and every employee their good days and not-so-good days. You’d hardly classify yourself as an employee because you didn’t get a paycheque, your entire occupation was a hazard unto itself, human-resources was punching it out on the sparring mat and your boss was either a 100-year-old super soldier or an eccentric billionaire, depending on the day and who was wearing what suit.

Wait… should I be getting paid for this?

Looking around your room that you paid no rent on, in a multi-billion dollar superhero compound, you decided that wasn’t a question you were ever going to ask. The question of the hour was which dress would best conceal your thigh-holstered gun.

Today, your job entailed one of those tasks that could be fun if you decided it would be, or hell if you had a bad attitude about it. You prided yourself on always being up for any mission, so that answered that question, though infiltrating some black-tie gala undercover was never as exciting as fighting alien forces.

You gave up feeling guilty about being a little excited when Earth faced threats long ago; no one had to know that impending planetary destruction was your favourite kind of mission to help out on.

Selecting a red strapless dress from the middle of your mission closet (which was differentiated because most of these dresses were bulletproof) you slipped it on over your underwear and thigh holster. A knock came at your door as you were reaching behind yourself to zip it up.

“Come in!”

“Agent, we- oh… Oh.” Loki’s featured turned from surprised to playfully smug in a matter of seconds.

“Can you get this zipper?” You winced at the stuck metal. He nodded and approached, you turned and held the fabric up. Before he even made it halfway to you he gave a brief wave of his hand and used his magic to unstick the zipper, bringing it to the top.

“Thanks,” you smiled, familiar with that particular kind of help from Loki. “Can you see my gun?” You did a little spin and he shook his head. “Great. You look nice," you commented, gesturing to his impeccable black suit.

“As do you.”

“Ready?”

”I suppose there are worse charades to play on a Saturday evening. Ones that don’t include fine wine and the prospect of a tussle with a Midgardian security man.”

You shot him a look as you two walked towards the garage together. “You said no Midgardian wine could be classed as fine.”

“Save for one region in Italy, I’ve discovered.” Loki shrugged, tightening the fastener on his cuff link.

You gave him a mock look of shock. “Are you telling me… you were wrong?“

“Smugness is not becoming, Agent,” Loki playfully warned.

“Hmm,” you narrowed your eyes. “Looks like I’m spending too much time with you.”

You bickered and bantered good-naturedly as you entered the garage, which was more like a hangar but only for cars. This mission would be you, Loki, Natasha, Sam and, strangely enough, Tony wanted to drive the van. He gave some excuse about wanting to test some new equipment and spend time with his team. Though you knew it was because Pepper wanted him to attend her aunt’s seventieth birthday, and Tony had a long-standing feud with that particular aunt ever since she went on a forty-five minute tirade about how much she hated Led Zeppelin. You weren’t sure if it was the sentiment behind it, or the fact that she could talk for forty-five minutes straight without the awareness to stop. Either way, Tony was on the job tonight.

“Black Widow is already onsite,“ Tony handed you three some photos as you entered and took your seats. “Your names are on the door, fake ones obviously, here they are.” Tony pulled up some information on the screens and then commanded the self-driving van to go with a few taps at a holographic control centre.

You went over the plan, the objective, who to avoid at all costs, where the gun was supposedly hidden. There was a gun used in a murder of a journalist - the employee of an old friend of Tony's, a young guy working on an exposé of a filthy-rich family dynasty in New York City. The journalist was sure the McDane family money came from arms dealing, but he was found dead just a few short months after he started investigating. The following week, Charles, the charming and likeable newly-married eldest son of the family, announced his run for mayor.

Whether Charlie McDane ordered the murder, or if he didn't even know it happened, Tony's source said this family kept trophies of their victories and the murder weapon would most definitely still be in the house.

On the face of it, it was an unusual assignment for the Avengers. If you didn't think that hard about it, you could have just sent Nat in alone. However, the McDane family was even more powerful than they loved to show on the surface, and this wouldn't be a simple theft. Hence, a small team was going in to avenge the fallen journalist.

Natasha had been planted on the inside, posing as an event manager for a soirée the family was hosting to celebrate Charlie’s birthday and, since he’d invited everyone in the political and social scene, it was the perfect chance to enter the mansion; there’s no way he’d know who each and every person was and should be.

As you walked down the road with your arm slotted through Loki's, you eyed the metal detectors at the front entrance. You gripped his arm and slid your hand into the pocket of your dress, but the pocket was hollow and only existed as easy way to grab your gun. Wordlessly, you passed it to Loki and he concealed it with his magic in the exact same way you planned to smuggle the murder weapon out later that evening.

Maybe it was Loki's elegance or your years of training that started when you were very young, but the way you two could instinctively weave around each other's thoughts, ideas and actions without so much as a glance was something special you didn't take for granted. You both had keen senses, but there was some kind of unexplainable energy that made them align perfectly.

You never let your mind wander on nights like these. On missions. Perhaps if you were less professional you'd take a moment to fantasise about what it would actually be like to go to a party with Loki. If the way he led you through the room with a gentle hand at your waist was more than a ploy to look like an adoring couple, or if he knew your favourite wine because he cared, instead of just having heard you order it a million times before.

He kept things light with jokes and little jabs, never once crossing a boundary when fake-flirting with you, but it wasn't lost on you that it was unusual to have this kind of working relationship that had all of the chemistry with none of the awkwardness. It was almost as if it was second nature now for him to pull you a little closer when you were in a nice dress, considering you'd only worn them in front of him on missions. And so he did pull you closer as you approached the bouncer to give your names.

You spied Nat at the front, leaning around a security guard's shoulder to point to something on his list. She always played her parts so well. She stole a glance at you and Loki through her fake glasses and that was it. No indication she knew you, no special treatment, no way she'd do anything to blow this. She walked up the outdoor staircase as you gave your aliased names to the guard and flashed fake drivers licenses that were pretty much real, considering the government had created them.

Loki declined the arrival champagne for the both of you, immediately leading you to the bar. You looked at him as if to remind him that you weren't here to drink, and his subtle smirk replied that he didn't care. He ordered two glasses of a merlot from the one region in Italy that'd won his respect, passing the glass to you once it was laid on the bar.

"To the finer things," he cheers'ed your glass and you scoffed with a laugh, taking a sip of the wine. The rich flavour burst through your mouth. It was dark and deep, spiced with... with... "Cedar," he offered, reading the analysis on your face. "Rosewood, cedar and some sort of stone-fruit."

"Nectarine."

He smiled and took another sip. "We don't have that on Asgard."

"This wine is good," you nodded as you two turned and deconstructed the room and all of its guests.

It made you kind of sick seeing all of these wealthy people in one place pretending to give a damn about Charlie McDane's birthday. It's not that you liked the guy, not at all, it just felt weird to know that every person in here was the exact kind of person you hunted down. Power-hungry. This mansion may as well be a lion's den. But full of naïve lions, who had no idea two apex predators just walked in.

Just when you started wondering how many people in your line of sight had also committed murder to protect their wealth and power, you saw Natasha give a subtle signal of which way the room with the safe was. Loki saw it too.

It was upstairs, but there wasn't much cover to get upstairs. The great foyer's ceiling was three stories up, the two floors above the ground floor you were on had square balconies that let the people upstairs peer downwards into the masses. Nat's fingers adjusting her hair told you that the room was on the second floor. Thankfully, there were guests on the second floor. Under the guise of admiration for the architecture and a desire to explore the great house, you pointed out works of art to Loki as you ascended the stairs together. When you walked past Natasha she smiled politely, like a good host, and asked if you were enjoying the wine.

"It's most divine. Though, I believe my beloved may be in search of a room to powder her nose."

You would have rolled your eyes at his usual choice of asking for information if you weren't aware that security's eyes were everywhere. Even on the event manager.

"You might find what you need up the stairs, down the first hall, third door on your right."

The way her hands were motioning didn't match her hushed description, so you followed the instructions in her voice instead of the way her hands were telling you.

You allowed Loki to lead you upstairs, down the first hall. When you two were certain there were no eyes, he concealed you two with his magic. The hallway was darkened. He pressed his hand against the lock and unfastened it with an unseen pure magic and you two slipped inside. It was a large office with grand mahogany furniture, decorated exactly as you'd expect Old Money Americans to decorate their office. Right down to the bear head above the fireplace and the first edition novels sitting proudly on the shelf, probably unread by their owners. That also made you a little sick: great words sitting unread as trophies.

Scanning the room for any obvious signs of the safe, your eyes settled on a panel in the wood on the side of the desk. There was a slightly smaller gap in the wood on one side, indicating hinges. You held your hands up to Loki and he conjured thin gloves to grace your fingers, then you pressed gently on the wood to engage the latch. The panel swung open to reveal the safe. Shifting out of the way, Loki took your place and placed a gloved hand on the dial. In less than three seconds, it spun rapidly in each direction before clicking open.

"We should really consider robbing banks," you whispered as the black metal door swung open and you were met with stacks of paper and envelopes.

"Need I remind you I am a Prince? If it's gold you want, darling, say the word."

"Eh," you shrugged, feeling around for the gun. "I meant more for the thrills."

Loki chuckled as your fingers found a familiar-feeling package. You pulled the envelope out and peered inside before showing Loki the sight of a small pistol. He nodded and took it from you carefully, then concealed it in some unknown magical space close to him.

You closed the safe carefully and then your gloves disappeared. Moving quietly back to the door, you listened for several moments to make sure no one was coming. Then, you both slid out and began walking down the hall like a loving couple.

Suddenly, a guard appeared at the end of the hallway. Thinking fast, you opened the closest door to you and pushed Loki inside. There was a shout you vaguely heard before you shut and locked the door again.

"Shit," you hissed. You were in someone's bedroom. Or maybe it was a guest room, considering how clean and un-lived-in it looked. There was a fireplace, like in the office, and a large four-poster bed against one wall. In the middle of the room were two plush couches that faced each other and were side-on to the door. You two walked over to them to get the vantage of being in the centre of the room and quickly searched for an exit.

"I'll cast an illusion," Loki whispered, ready to wave his hands and make it look as if you two weren't here.

"No!" You whispered, eyes wide. "They already saw us come in here. If we disappear, they'll know something's up and lock the place down."

"Then what do you propose?" He held his hands out, annoyingly unbothered by the prospect of blowing a mission. The doorknob twisted and you both snapped your heads towards it, then back at each other.

"Sit," you hissed and shoved him back onto the sofa right behind him. He stumbled and fell with a small indignant noise of surprise. You heard the tinkling of keys and your heart beat in your chest.

"Agent?"

Knowing the security team was about to enter, you acted fast. "I'll never hear the end of this," you mumbled before sliding forward to straddle his lap. His eyebrows shot up his forehead as you wrapped your arms around his shoulder and looked at him with nervous urgency. "Kiss me."

Loki didn't question it, and he certainly didn't need to be told twice. His hands found their place. One at the small of your back, one firmly gripping the hair at the nape of your neck. Then, he pulled you in for a fiery kiss.

You barely heard the door open as you lost yourself in the strength of his hold, the steady and eager grasp with which he held you. His hands found their places as if they'd been there a thousand times before, as if he knew exactly how you'd feel the safest, feel the most desired. You pulled him deeper by the back of his neck and could have sworn he made a small noise of satisfaction.

Oh no.

He kept kissing you, you kept kissing him, even after the head of the security team had cleared his throat a number of times. As much as you knew you'd already sold it, and boy you sold it well, you couldn't bring yourself to pull away. Were all Asgardians this good at kissing, or was it just Loki?

Oh. No.

"HEY!"

The sudden loud command pulled you away and, much to your internal mortification, you didn't need to feign how flustered you were.

"O-oh my," you squeaked and looked up at the man, blushing profusely.

Okay, the squeak was fake, but it felt almost real.

You stayed put where you were straddling Loki's lap and grimaced when you saw Natasha, still in character, entering the room. "What's going on, I need you downstairs to- oh!" She looked a little taken aback by your position atop the prince who, you were fuming to see from the corner of your eye, had the audacity to be smirking.

"My apologies," Loki drawled in his growly regal voice, trailing his hands around to your sides. "I simply couldn't control myself, seeing my queen in this dress..." He punctuated it with an "Mmph" and a firm squeeze at your hips. You flinched and squirmed a bit under the ticklish touch, trying to keep your composure but letting a small giggle slip out. Then, catching the pleased and mischievous glint in his eye, you dug your nails into the back of his shoulder to warn him off trying that again.

"This room's off limits," the guard tilted his head towards the door and you made to move your way off of Loki's lap. Instead, with his incredible strength, he stood with his hands still at your hips, lifting you to your feet before turning and wrapping an arm around your waist.

He looked the guard up and down, "Of course, good sir." You bit your lip and blushed, cowering in Loki's hold as you exited the room together. Nat smirked at you and winked before proceeding to fall back into character and tell the guards there was a belligerent drunk man downstairs needing to be kicked out. That man would be Wilson, who was playing his part as tipsy distraction.

Loki led you down the hall and you rounded a corner, then you broke off from him and held a hand to your chest. "That was too close," you breathed deeply once, then met his eye. You glared when he saw him smirking at you.

"Do I have lipstick on my face?" He asked, feigning worry.

"Oh, shut up," you swatted his shoulder. "I did what I had to do."

"I never knew you had the passion in you, Agent," Loki smirked again. You glared once more and peeked around the corner, only to jump and hold in a yelp as Loki's pinching fingers found your hip. "I also never knew you were so ticklish."

"That's not something people advertise- cut it ouhout!" You swatted his hand and squirmed away from him as he prodded his fingers into your side. "We have the gun, let's get out of here."

"Tsk, you're no fun," Loki scoffed.

You exited the party and made your way down the block towards the van, knowing that Nat's glasses had broadcast at least the last part of your little tussle with Loki. Steeling yourself as you gripped the handle, you reminded yourself that you were a professional, and this was sometimes a hazard of the job. You needed to play it cool when the eventual teasing came.

"Hey, lovebirds," Tony quipped the second he saw your faces.

"Hey," you chuckled, stepping inside and removing your heels the second you found your seat. "We got it."

"Here," Loki closed the door behind him and pulled the enveloped gun from the magical space he'd hidden it. "So you saw the Agent's display of passion, did you?"

"You wound me, Loki," you deadpanned. "I thought we had a mutual connection."

Perhaps those words were a mistake considering all the truth behind them. However, all the best lies were founded on truth, and for now you needed to convince everyone in the van that you weren't totally freaking out because you'd felt the most passionate attraction you'd had in years with a former villain. I mean... how predictable.

Loki looked at you suspiciously as he took his seat, but something in his gaze told you he wasn't going to prod deeper on this. Not right now, at least. Not in front of everyone.

Nat and Sam joined the fray five minutes later and you all got a move-on back to the Compound. Nat poked more fun at the position she'd found you two in, and you laughed good-naturedly at all their jokes. Loki was uncharacteristically silent, and seemed to always be looking at you when you laughed and instinctively checked to see if he was laughing too.

The jokes shifted to Sam and the wine he spilled down his shirt, then the conversation shifted to the next steps of what to do with the gun, then you all arrived back.

Tony got to work dismantling his rig, declining your help, and so you took your field weapons over to the cabinet to put them back in their places. As you were unclipping the magazine from your pistol, you felt a presence behind the door. You peered around to see Loki.

"What's up?" You raised your eyebrows and snapped the case shut, then closed the door.

He looked at you meaningfully, quizzically, but didn't say anything.

"Okay..." you chuckled uncomfortably and put the latch on the door in place. "I'm going to shower."

You made to walk past him but he grabbed your upper arm, stopping you by his side. Facing different ways, he leaned in a little closer and spoke quietly. "I can spot a lie from lightyears away."

Turning to look at him, you'd probably have been caught off-guard by how close his face was if it hadn't been for the events of earlier. You shrugged, pulling your arm from his grasp. "I didn't lie."

He scoffed and also turned to look at you, eyes flitting once down to your lips, then back up to pierce your gaze with his. "You know what I meant."

You were proud of how composed you kept yourself when you shrugged again and kept walking, swallowing hard.

This wasn't supposed to happen.

Never one to waste water, you took an uncharacteristically long shower. Haphazardly smearing face wash over your skin to scrub the makeup off, scrub away the flustered energy. But no amount of scrubbing could help you forget the feeling of his kiss, and shampooing the hairspray from your head only made you remember the feeling of his fingers in your hair.

You reminded yourself that it had been a very long time since you'd kissed someone. You were probably just desperate, definitely a little touch-starved in general, so the fact that it was Loki didn't matter as much as the fact that it had happened.

That's what you told yourself over and over as you threw on sweatpants and a soft long-sleeved shirt. It was cold and the marble floors could be unforgiving, so you thought it best to go for fluffy socks, but then pulled some slippered boots over the top. You didn't bother brushing your wet hair, letting it fall where it wanted as you made your way to the kitchen.

"That smells good," you commented as Nat pulled some dish out of the oven.

"Mmm," she agreed with an excited smile. "Nico is my favourite," she admitted slyly, referring to one of the chefs Pepper would call in to prepare a bunch of heatable meals during busy periods. Delivery app drivers would probably cancel the order if you tried, thinking it must be a joke that a super solider was asking for a Big Mac to be delivered to the Avengers Compound. Besides, by the time it was scanned and made sure to not contain a deadly poison, it would be cold and stale. "There's enough for you too," Nat said, pulling out another plate and serving you a steaming slice of vegetarian lasagne.

"Thanks," you smiled, still a little distracted. Of course, with someone as perceptive as Nat, that wouldn't be allowed to slip by.

She leaned against the counter and poked at her meal, not meeting your eye to keep it less direct. "You alright?"

"Hmm?" You looked up, and so did she, then you looked back down to your food and shrugged. It was no use lying to her. "I think I'm lonely," you laughed humourlessly, nervously, sadly.

"The kiss got to you," she said knowingly, placing her fork down to give you her full attention. You didn't return the favour, nervous about what you'd say if you were really talking about this. Which, as long as you were here eating dinner, you weren't really talking about it.

"It's not like I haven't kissed a fellow Agent before to keep cover," you sighed a little, shaking your head. "It's just been a while, I guess, since I've had... anything... or, someone."

"I get that," she nodded, picking up her fork again. You two ate in silence for several moments. "This is really good," she declared through an extra-large mouthful. You chuckled and nodded, swallowing another bite. After several more moments, she said quietly, "It's okay if you felt something."

That made you choke a bit. Noticeably, unfortunately. You shook your head, but didn't deny it. "No. It's not okay."

"Why not?" She asked as if you were crazy.

"It's not okay," you repeated firmly, stabbing your fork again at the lasagna. "It's not."

Before she could attempt to pry for more information, Thor and Loki entered the kitchen together. Great.

"Good evening," Thor beamed a toothless smile.

"There's more in the fridge if you're hungry," you looked up at them in an attempt to not seem as regressed in on yourself as you felt. Thor looked at your plate and nodded in approval, opening the fridge. Then you looked at Loki, fully expecting to see some kind of calculating stare as before, but his expression was soft. He looked you over, probably noticing your out-of-character hunched posture and the way your head hung a little lower than usual, and he gave you a look that was subtly laced with sympathy.

Now that made your blood boil. Who was he to feel sorry for you?

He seemed to notice the way your jaw clenched under his gaze, and opened his mouth to say something but Thor spoke first.

"There's a film Stark wants us all to watch this evening."

Nat chuckled, finishing off her dinner. "You say that like he's showing us training videos. He's just trying to bond the team over some cheesy nineties movie." She looked at you and nodded to your clothes. "You look ready for a movie night."

Before you could explain that you'd rather go to bed, Thor beamed again. "Excellent, then! We'll all be there."

Thor was always kind to you, so you didn't want to disappoint him over something so inconsequential. You smiled warmly at him and nodded. "I'm gonna go claim a good spot," you excused yourself, aware it was almost time for it to start. You quickly did your dishes and left the kitchen, making sure to get a seat on a large armchair so you made it clear you'd rather have some personal space right now, even though it was the exact opposite of what you wanted. Maybe it would be good for you though, to remember that you were alone for a reason. That this life you chose wasn't kind too love.

Gods, love. Why did you think of that word, of all the ones out there. You were spiralling. Sentiment, you corrected yourself with a swift reprimand. Sentiment, loneliness, desperation.

You busied yourself chatting to Wanda as people filtered in, taking note of how she seamlessly wove herself in and around Vision as they sat on a two-seater next to you. Determined not to look at or think of Loki or romance or kissing or anything like that, you trained your eyes on the screen as the movie started.

But you spiralled.

There were these two main characters in the movie with this undeniable bickering co-worker chemistry that reminded you of Loki, the jokes he’d whisper into your ear during meetings, the harmless mischief he’d pull to make you laugh, the way his hand felt at your lower back- NO. You couldn’t think about that.

Wanda and Vision were in your line of sight from the corner of your eye and you saw her fingers lace through his, you then saw him place a silent kiss on the crown of her head. Biting down on your tongue, you remembered Nat and Bruce, Pepper and Tony, Thor and Jane, Clint and Laura. All those people who seemed to find love, even temporary love, in the midst of all this madness.

So maybe it wasn’t this life. Maybe it was just… you.

Biting your tongue a little harder, you reminded yourself how powerless you were compared to all these super-people. Sure, many of them were human like you, but all the other humans seemed to have someone who loved them.

It felt hopeless, knowing the only person in this room who you wanted close was so extraordinarily out of your league. He was a god. You were a human. Your life was a flicker compared to his, of course he’d never waste time indulging the likes of you.

But it felt real.

Halfway through the movie you decided you couldn’t sit there and see these buddy-cop characters fall in love. You couldn’t watch Wanda and Vision so enamoured with each other. What you needed was to hit something hard, and then go to sleep. So you excused yourself without a word or a glance at anyone. It was late, anyway. You weren’t even the first one to leave.

A turn of a black-haired form told you that Loki noticed you leaving, but the lack of footsteps behind you as you walked down the silent hall told you that he hadn’t followed you.

Slipping into your room and then into some workout clothes, you jammed your headphones into your ears and put on some classical music; you weren't sure you could stand to hear any words right now. You laced your shoes a little tighter than normal and practically sprinted to the gym, very unwilling to have anyone notice you were gone and decide to come check on you.

Hitting the bag felt good. It was the perfect consolation prize for what you'd actually prefer right now, but with every crushing of your knuckles against the thick canvas you found it easier to forget how it felt to have your fingers looped through his hair. The sweat dripping down your face replaced the feeling of his breath against your skin when you'd broken the kiss, and the aching in your obliques from your tensing and turning to hit the bag took the place of any memory of his hands at your waist. The aching was here, and he was almost gone.

After a half-hour of interval sprints, it was just past midnight and you were exhausted. Not knowing how you felt about no one coming to check on you, you traipsed back to your room in silence. The faint echoing of your footsteps through the hallways made you quiet yourself further, stepping as lightly as you could to prove to yourself that you were still a good spy. Good spies don't get caught up with feelings. Your footsteps fell, dead quiet, and you regained some confidence.

Your muscles stung the next morning but in a delightful way. You'd treated yourself to another hot shower when you got back to your room, so this morning it would probably be best to have an icy one.

As the cold water hit your skin, you felt okay again. The boxing and running last night had really shaken everything out of you, only the smallest lingering of lonely desire remained and it could easily be ignored. Of course, that was easy to say. The second you walked into the kitchen to see that Loki had heard you coming and poured you a coffee you felt a tug at your chest.

His hands closed around the mug to pass it to you and you remembered how his fingers had closed around your waist. He smiled good morning and you remembered how his lips felt against yours. Holding it all in, you smiled and took the coffee, then proceeded to have a short conversation with him like a normal person would. He made jokes about last night, but not about that, and you chuckled at them. After perhaps too short a time for how long you usually chatted, you excused yourself to go do some paperwork. You caught the way his brow furrowed a little, but he didn't question you.

The next few days were more or less like this. You'd try to engage with Loki normally but spiral a little more, convincing yourself that the more you continued like you always had, the more normal things would be again. But he was just so... beautiful. Everything about him was beautiful and now you couldn't help but notice.

One evening, nearly a week after you'd kissed, you were having a bit of a vulnerable day and you walked into the kitchen for some ice cream. Loki had just finished cleaning up after his dinner and turned to say hello, but you couldn't do it. You just turned and walked right back out again. He called after you but you didn't stop. It's not like you were going to cry in front of him, but you just couldn't do this right now.

Seeking refuge in your bedroom, you shut the door and slid down to the floor with your back against it. An immediate soft knock frustrated you, especially knowing who it probably was. You sighed and stood.

“Hey,” you greeted Loki with a nod when you opened the door, immediately turning away to make it look like you were about to do something else. “What’s up?”

Loki stepped into the room and closed the door behind him, which made you stop and give him your attention. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you lied.

He squinted for the faintest second and smiled a little sadly. “Light years,” he reminded you how he could spot a lie without harshly calling you out. It pained you that he didn’t. That his lack of sarcasm indicated that he saw you as a bit fragile right now.

You sighed a little and ducked your head to the side, conceding the point. “I’m a little haywire,” you admitted. “I think I need to get some stress out and go to sleep.”

”What troubles you?”

Ah. What a question.

You didn’t want to shut him out, but you certainly didn’t know how to explain that one simple kiss undercover had brought a massive crashing wave of insecurity and anxiety that made you feel completely unlovable. Or... maybe you could just say that?

You were silent for so long that Loki spoke again.

“I’d like to offer my apologies,” he said very diplomatically. “If I overstepped the bounds of our relationship.”

“I’m the one that made you kiss me,” you winced. “I should be apologising.”

”I didn’t mean that,” Loki shook his head. “I meant after, when we returned. When I cornered you.”

You had to laugh. “You didn’t corner me, Loki. I appreciate you wanting to make me feel better but you have nothing to apologise for.”

”Very well. But you didn’t make me,” he replied firmly.

“I know, I know…” you rolled your eyes. “A god submits to no one, I just meant that I put you in a situation that I shouldn’t have. Believe me, I’m paying the price.”

That last part came out a little faster than you’d intended it to. In fact, you didn’t really mean to say that last part out loud at all. Or maybe you did. What a perfect Freudian Slip. Quickly collecting yourself, you spotted your headphones and went to pick them up but noticed that Loki was taking slow steps towards you.

”Paying the price?” He asked carefully. You stopped and folded your arms, shrugging.

“People poke fun, you know.” You bit your tongue. Then, you saw him smirk a little. Ah. Lightyears.

“I thought we had a mutual connection,“ he raised his eyebrows, teasing you with your joke from That Night. You gave him a firm stare, but couldn’t help but notice he wasn’t that far away now.

“Loki, that was-“

“A thinly veiled truth,” he interjected, leaving no room for debate. He also left very little room between the two of you. You opened your mouth to respond, seemed to not be able to, and he smirked at your speechlessness.

"Y-you can't." You shook your head. "There's no way."

"There's no way, what?" A smiled tugged at his lips at the way your eyes widened when he took a strand of your hair and wrapped it once around his finger.

"... Mutual?"

“Now that we won’t be interrupted…” he brought his hand up next to his face, flourished it, and you heard your door’s lock click shut. You held your breath as a mischievous grin graced his lips.

Oh gods, you were looking at his lips. You couldn't seem to look away.

He lowered his voice to a gruff whisper. “Might we finish what we started?”

With the smallest nod of your head, he immediately ducked his head to press his lips against yours. Your small noise of surprise made him pull away for a second and grin, before he playfully growled and lifted you from the ground. His eyes stayed trained on yours as he walked a few steps and firmly shoved your back against the wall. Your breath hitched as his hand found that place at the back of your neck, and this time, you kissed him. Eagerly, hungrily, feeling so overwhelmingly euphoric that this was even happening.

It had to be a dream, you thought as his lips trailed along your jawline, his hot breath hit your neck and his strong unwavering arms kept you above the ground and level with his gaze. He kissed you not just like a god or a great lover - he kissed you like he wanted you. Like he‘d also been waiting to do this for an unspeakable amount of time. It felt like relief.

Pulling you both back from the wall, Loki's lips didn’t relent as your fingers tangled once again in his hair. He walked backwards and found his seat on the end of your bed, sitting with you in his lap as he had at the party.

“Gods, you enrapture me,“ he pulled away, a little breathless. He grinned and his eyes were hazy. He looked at you intensely before looking back at your lips, subconsciously slipping out his tongue to wet his own. Before you could respond, he was kissing you again. You could have melted into his touch. In fact, you were fairly certain you just might.

He leaned back and you both fell onto the bed, you on top of him. You laughed at the sudden impact and you pulled away for a few seconds to catch your breath. You looked at his adoring gaze and blushed. “I never thought someone like you could want someone like me.”

He furrowed his brow, unsure if you were about to reference his nefarious past.

”You’re so… mighty. You’re a Prince, a god, you’re wickedly smart and powerful and… and I’m just a human.”

“Watch your tongue,” Loki scolded somewhat seriously and held you a little tighter. “Don’t speak of yourself as if you’re insignificant.”

You rolled your eyes and smiled, giving him a look. “You know what I mean.”

“Of course I do, I’m wickedly smart,” he smirked and you playfully swatted at his chest. He smiled contentedly and ran his hands firmly down your sides to settle at your hips. It was an innocent romantic gesture, one to position you for further making-out with Loki, but your eyes widened at the memory of his discovery the previous weekend and the assumption that the God of Mischief was about to turn the tables.

Unluckily for you, your flustered expression rendered it a self-fulfilling prophesy.

“Loki…” You warned as you saw the glint in his eye.

“That’s right…” His smirk widened to a devilish grin.

”How about you keep kissing me, huh?” You laughed nervously and leaned in closer. Loki laughed and nodded, bringing his hand up to cradle the back of your neck as you pressed your lips to his. Once your arms were around his neck, he deepened the kiss and rolled over, putting you underneath him. Still on the edge of the bed, your feet barely skimmed the floor. Then, he suddenly became the classic Loki you knew.

“Mmmhmhm!” You whined and giggled a little into the kiss as the fingers belonging to his arm around your waist started ever so gently scratching at your side. “Mmnnoho!” You broke away and gave him a pouting look. He lifted his head and smirked.

Gods. He’d never looked so unspeakably hot.

Messy curls framing his face, that look he gave you that said You’re In Trouble in his distinct Loki way, mixed with the desire in his piercing blue eyes; you’d gladly endure his torture if it meant he looked at you like that.

But maybe that’s because you had no idea what was coming.

“Darling,” he cocked his head and kissed your cheek before kissing just below your ear. “I am the God of Mischief….“ he kissed your neck in a way that you were sure was intended to tickle. You giggled and bit your lip. “And now that I've got my hands on you, you simply cannot expect me to not exploit this little weakness to its fullest extent.”

“L-Loki!” You blushed at the very real threat and he chuckled.

“How about you guide me, hmm? Where should I start?”

“I’m not playing this game,” you laughed nervously, squirming a bit underneath him and resting your hands on his shoulders to push away the ticklish kisses.

“Aw, come now,” he lifted his head and that same beautiful smirk made your heart beat quick. His hand behind your neck slid down under your shoulder blade until it sat at your upper ribs. You stole a glance down to where it may be, even though you couldn’t see it. He cocked his head again. “No? Alright, I’ll choose.” With a wink his thumb slipped around the side and up into the hollow under your arm.

“LOKI!” You gasped, clamped your arm down from instinct and immediately started squirming and giggling, even though his thumb wasn’t even moving. He grinned again and kissed your lips once more.

“You've been down all week, love. Let's have a bit of fun,” he whispered, then sprang his hand at your waist into action, scratching and grabbing at the soft skin hidden beneath your shirt. You gasped again and started laughing softly, then squeaked when his thumb started wiggling into the hollow under your arm.

"NOHOHO!" You shut your eyes and then squealed loudly when his fingers underneath you began clawing into the back of your uppermost ribs. Damnit, you thought he may start easy on you, not go for three different places at once. You were already in a desperate cackle, bubbling incoherent pleas spilling from your lips as you writhed underneath his amused self.

"I'm honestly delighted you're so ticklish," Loki teased with a chuckle. "It's adorable, really. So professional all the time, yet..." He finished his sentence by intensifying his touch and speed at all three sites of attack, drawing a small shriek from your laughing lips and a jolt from your body. "Has it always been this easy to undo you?"

“OHMYGOHOD!” You shrieked, throwing your head against the bed and trying to buck your upper body against him to no avail. He paused his torture and kissed you deeply again, lips curled into a smile as he pressed his lips to yours. You shook your head and broke away, still laughing. “Youhou’re ridiculous! We were hahaving such a nice moment and y-you ruined ihit,” you whimpered. He kissed to again to silence your complaints.

“What did you expect?”

“I-I expected a nice romantic moment!” You laughed and brought both arms between you and him to shove at his shoulders. “Now,” you gave him a stern look. “Do you want to tickle me, or kiss me? You can only choose one.”

He scoffed. “I don’t do ultimatums, darling.”

“You do now.”

“Bold.“ He stuck his tongue against his cheek then ducked his head to the side in consideration. He then looked at your face, which you’d been attempting to hold in some semblance of a firm glare. He lowered his lips to your ear and you heard him chuckle once. “Far too bold for someone so ticklish.”

He whipped his arms out from under you and pressed his weight down again, trapping your arms between your bodies as he clawed into the front and sides of your lowest ribs.

“NOHOAHAH!” You immediately fell into desperate belly-laughter as his fingers drilled and clawed into the spaces between your bones. Your feet kicked helplessly, merely grazing the ground as laughter kept spilling from you. “NOHO! NO! LOKIHI I CAHAN’T!” He shifted his hands further up your ribcage and snuck his fingers around to dig in at the back and, after one more shriek, your laughter went silent. It was trapped in your chest as his squeezing and vibrating fingers found every sensitive space on your ribs that made you want to melt into a little puddle. You were gasping for air by the time he halted his attack, squeaking and wheezing as you tried to regain your breath.

It was torture, but you hoped he wouldn’t ask you if it was worth enduring to have him this close. If he could spot a lie from lightyears away, how much easier could he spot it when he was close enough for you to see the flecks of green in his eyes.

”You’re… you’re gonna kill me,” you hiccoughed. He smirked and leaned in for another kiss. “Nuh-uh,” you pulled your finger up as much as you could from where your arms were trapped. “You made your choice.”

He grinned and slid his hands down your sides with a wink, "Oh? Then I'll gladly continue."

"W-w-wait! I dihidn't th-WAHAIT!"

His thumbs drilled relentlessly into your hips as Loki joined in with your loud laughter. You finally managed to wiggle your arms out from where they were trapped at your chest, shooting them down to grab at his fingers. Your feet having no traction and his near entire weight pressing you to the bed made it impossible to buck or lift any part of your torso, so you were completely trapped with nowhere to go as he gripped and grabbed at the skin of your hips, kneading at the pressure points that made you squeak and squirm beneath him.

When he tired of your fingers trying to grab his, he did a devilish swift lift of his own body and slotted his hands between the two of you, settling them palms-down over the majority of your belly. You made a huge gasping noise and started frantically giggling and squealing even before he'd moved his hands. You shook your head and begged for him to kiss you instead, nervous high-pitched giggles interlacing your words.

"N-noho, Loki just kihiss me, kiss me plehease! PLEASE!" You squeaked, cupping his cheeks and gently pulling him towards you. He chuckled and grinned, gently digging a few fingers in just once. You thrashed and renewed your struggling and squealing efforts. "Dohon't you DAHARE! I won't kiss you agahain if you do this!" You threatened. He cocked his head and leaned in a little closer to look deep into your eyes. Then, he grinned and whispered:

"Lightyears."

You thought for certain you'd pass out from laughter when Loki's fingers sprang into action and rippled against your hypersensitive stomach. You laughed loudly, completely powerless to stop his fingers from digging in wherever they pleased. After not much time at all, your laughter went silent and you weakly batted at his shoulders, sides, face, anything your hands could find for themselves since your eyes were shut so tight. Any words your brain even began to think of forming got lost as laughter ripped through your chest from the electric intensity of his fingers against your body.

When your hands finally found both sides of his face, you used all the energy you had left to press your laughing lips against his and, finally, he relented. You fell back with a loud gasp as he retracted his hands with an amused chuckle and took his weight mostly off you, propping himself up with a hand planted either side of your head.

"Alright there, darling?" He teased as you coughed weakly and wiped the tears of mirth from your cheeks. You gave him a scowl, but he found it adorable.

"Thihis isn't fair," you crossed your arms defiantly.

"No?" He smirked. "Pray tell, my love. What isn't fair?"

Oh. My love. His love.

That took any breath you'd managed to get back in your lungs.

"Y-you... you..." But your words were lost in the bliss of being his. He seemed to quickly understand how his words touched your heart, and it softened his teasing demeanour, and softened his smirk into a smile. "You found my worst spots so soon," you managed to murmur through rosy cheeks.

"Was only a matter of time."

"But now you have the upper hand."

"Dear heart, this isn't a struggle for power," he laughed heartily. "I do not seek to rule over you. Anything you ask of me, anything in the Nine Realms, I will give to you."

"Tell me where you're ticklish."

He chuckled and pressed a chaste kiss to your lips before falling down beside you. He hummed in contentment as he wrapped his arms around your waist to pull you as close as you could be.

"Anything but that."

#loki x reader #loki fluff #loki tickle fluff #ler!loki #ticklish!reader #marvel tickle #marvel fluff #marvel reader insert

352 notes · View notes

badboyjuyeon · 3 years

Text

me plus you

Pairing: Eric x Reader

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 4.6k

Summary: You have to tutor Eric in calculus, but you’re struggling in calculus and Eric doesn’t actually need help.

This was not happening. You rubbed your eyes again as if that was going to change the 0/100 that you received from missing your latest calculus quiz. It didn’t matter how many A’s you got in your past quizzes, a zero would definitely damage your grade. You shoved the test in your bag and made your way towards the teacher’s desk.

“I missed yesterday’s class so I had no idea that I missed this quiz. Is there any way that I can make this up?” You asked your teacher, hoping that she might spare some pity and excuse this quiz. This was out of character for a straight-A student like yourself and you knew that she had a soft spot towards you.

“Unfortunately, it was a unit quiz and you missed it. If you read the syllabus, it explicitly states that there are no make-up opportunities...” She began in a stern voice which eventually turned softer when she noticed the panicked look on your face. “...But knowing how you have always done well in this class, I would be willing to offer extra credit if you join the tutoring center.”

“Consider it done!” You gave your best fake smile as you tried not to think of all the free time you were about to lose. It was your fault, after all, for sleeping in on the day you knew you would have the quiz. Maybe you turned off your alarm because you were struggling in the last few classes and scared to receive a failing grade. Maybe you closed your eyes for “five more minutes” because you didn’t know how to ask for help since you’ve never needed to before.

As you turned to leave, you noticed Eric Sohn push his way from the back of the classroom. He avoided eye contact with the teacher as if that would make him invisible.

“Eric I would like to meet with you.” Your teacher called out to him as he had one foot out of the doorway.

“Aww man, I was so close to escaping.” He muttered under his breath. You bit back a smile at his comment and watched him step back into the classroom. You brushed past him as you left to go sign up for the tutoring center. Eric envied you for being able to walk free, while he was going to be stuck getting yelled at.

“Eric, you’ve been failing all of the recent quizzes. I spoke with your coach and we agreed that you can’t play on the team unless your grades improve.” She shook her head in disappointment.

Eric could not believe what he was hearing. All his practice would have gone towards nothing. He could feel his dreams of becoming a professional baseball player slip away, all because of this one stupid class. “I promise I’ll do better on the next one, just please let me stay on the team.”

Your teacher sighed, “You said that the last time. You still haven’t taken up my recommendation of going to the tutoring center. Another peer might be able to help you better. If your next few grades improve after tutoring, then we’ll talk.”

Eric headed towards the library during his lunch period, which he never would have done under any other circumstance. He preferred to be outside playing basketball with his friends than being cooped up in the library. After signing his name, he sat down on an empty table and waited to be assigned to a tutor. When he tried to look for another familiar name on the tutor list, he noticed yours scribbled neatly with your perfect font-like handwriting. You’ve probably never failed a quiz in your life, let alone the past few quizzes. Eric groaned. How did he let himself slip up in this class? He had a pretty high GPA, but this class was dragging it down from its highest potential.

He flipped through the notebook he dedicated to calculus and was met with empty pages. If only he didn’t stay up late studying for his other classes, he would have been able to pay attention during this class. But resting his eyes always seemed like a much better option.

“Eric? Hi, I’ll be your new calc tutor.” Eric looked up to see you pull out the seat across from him. He let out a sigh of relief because you were not a complete stranger and you always got the highest grades. He would be back on the team in no time. He shot you a smile and his eyes formed crescent moons.

You returned his smile but it was only momentary, and it left as quickly as it came. “Can I tell you a secret?” You fidgeted with your fingers.

Eric was unsure of what to make of your sudden question. He nodded his head to encourage you to continue.

“I have no idea what’s going on in class.” You admitted to him, though this was not something you told anyone else.

Eric let out a laugh, you had to be joking. “Don’t you need an A in this class to be a tutor?”

“Yeah, I just always get my work done on time. My grade doesn’t reflect my understanding of the material but how well I can cheat on all of my assignments.” Upon seeing his confused face, you chose to elaborate. “I usually use photomath, that’s the only way I’ve been passing.”

Eric’s mouth parted in shock. Why didn’t he think of using that app himself? He also couldn’t believe that you were struggling in that class. “Then I’m not crazy, she just really can’t teach. That’s why I haven’t been understanding anything.”

“It’s not you, it’s her.” You assured him. “But can I still ‘tutor’ you because that would be the only way to make up for my last quiz?” You hoped that your desperation wasn’t too obvious.

Eric studied your face, he never had any chance to talk to you this long. Your features were tainted with stress. He could tell that your grades mattered and that he was the only person that could help you. It wouldn’t hurt to spend a little time outside of class with you, it’s not like he had baseball practice to take away his free time.

“Sure, I’m going to need these lessons to explain why I’m suddenly going to do amazing in this class after I start using photomath.”

Your face lit up when you heard him accept and it was enough to ensure that he made the right choice.

“How bad did you do on the last quiz?” Eric still couldn’t believe that you were not the nerd that he thought you were. Teachers always used your work for examples of model work and that was the only impression he had of you prior to this tutor session.

“I got a 0 because I missed class that day.” You looked away in embarrassment. The bright red 0 was still easily visible on your crumpled-up test.

Eric placed his test marked with 65/100 next to yours. “Well I didn’t pass even though I was in class, so we can try to work on it together.”

You flipped to the chapter that the quiz was on and turned the textbook sideways so that he could also see. The library was mainly empty save for you two because the weather was nice and everyone would much rather go outside for lunch. Your table was positioned right near the window, and Eric had the perfect view of all of his friends playing baseball on the school field. He could have been there if he didn’t slack off this bad.

No matter how many times you read the page, you still couldn’t quite get the concept down. No other class had you stuck like this one. While you were stuck rereading, Eric started attempting the first problem on his quiz. He finished in a matter of seconds and you took out photomath, a calculator app that solves literally everything, to check if it’s the same answer.

You couldn’t hide the look of shock on your face when the answer on your screen matched the one on his paper. “Eric I didn’t know that you were a genius. You have to teach me how to do this.”

Eric’s face also matched yours as he was also surprised at himself. He never even thought to attempt the problems before.

“I don’t really know what I did.” He confessed but tried to walk you through his thought process. Hearing him explain the steps allowed you to think of the problem in an entirely different way and it was the only thing you needed to understand how to solve it. Your face still expressed the initial shock, but now you felt more impressed than surprised.

Eric laughed at the irony, here he was tutoring you instead of the other way around. “I’ll have you know that just because I’m a sports guy doesn’t mean that I’m an airhead.”

“And having A’s doesn’t exactly mean that I’m a nerd. I knew you weren’t an airhead, but sleeping during class didn’t exactly make you look the smartest.” You teased him, before asking him the real question that was plaguing your mind. “You picked it up so quickly, why did you fail the last few quizzes?”

He switched his gaze from the paper to look straight into your eyes. “Honestly, I didn’t have any motivation to actually do the quizzes. I thought that I was screwed since I kept sleeping during class. And I have to sacrifice some classes to do better in the rest.” He answered, before moving on to the next problem.

With him facing towards the paper, you took note of his perfect side profile. His eyebrows were furrowed as he thought about how to solve the question. Wow, his jawline was sharp and you were getting sidetracked.

Using his method, you were able to breeze through the problems. You were the type of student to follow the book, word for word, while Eric was the opposite. He was carefree and just did what he felt like, and it worked. You would’ve never thought to experiment like he did but it was exactly what you needed to do.

“Wait I don’t get how to do these last few problems.” He interrupted you from your thoughts and you leaned closer to get a better view of the problem. You checked the steps to solve the problem from photomath and figured out how to solve it.

While you were explaining the problem to him, Eric suddenly became aware of the short proximity between the two of you. His eyes traced your features and they subconsciously drifted towards your lips. He wondered whether they felt as soft as they looked, in a totally platonic way, of course. He shook his head to clear his thoughts.

“That’s why you use this- Eric? Were you even listening?” You turned to face him after he stopped being responsive. Eric felt the blood rush to his cheeks. He quickly scanned the paper and pretended that he was paying attention all along. “Yeah I was listening, I understand it.”

You spent the rest of the period working together to get through the quiz. You two were in your own world and you wouldn’t have noticed how much time went by if the library didn’t become loud, signaling the end of the period, as students transitioned between classes. The period never felt this short.

“We are quite the team,” Eric said as you packed up your things.

“Surprisingly, we are. Let’s meet up again at the same time next week.” You waved at him and rushed to get to your next class.

“See you in class.” Eric watched as you left the library and looked forward to the next time he would see you.

Upon entering calculus class the next day, Eric searched for your face. He found you sitting in your usual seat near the window. Your head was down on the desk, unaware that he was approaching you.

“Is this seat taken?” You lifted your head to see Eric gesturing to the seat next to you. You shook your head, confused as to why he decided to sit next to you instead of the back of the classroom.

You didn’t have to worry about saving a seat for a friend because calculus was the one class that you didn’t share with any friends. You didn’t realize it until now but none of the boys you saw Eric hang out with were in this class either. At least you two would have each other now.

“Isn’t it easier to sleep in the back of the classroom?” You questioned.

“It is, but it's easier to cheat- I mean learn next to you.” He said with a cheeky grin.

Your teacher walked in, cutting off your small talk.

You took out your calculus textbook and notebook while you waited for the teacher to begin. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Eric scribble something on the last page of his notebook. When the teacher turned around to write on the chalkboard, he slid his notebook over to you and tapped you.

i forgot my textbook in my locker, can i look over on yours?

You pushed your textbook towards him and positioned it in between you two. He mouthed a quick “thanks.”

Your teacher began explaining the new concept and you almost forgot about Eric’s presence next to you as you copied down everything that was on the board.

“Wait, is that a four or a nine?” You whispered, trying to decipher the messy handwriting. When you heard no response from Eric, you turned to look at him for the first time since class had started. Eric’s head was resting on the palm of his hand and his eyes were closed shut. He did not just leave you to fend for yourself. You nudged his hand and his head fell onto the desk with a loud thud.

Your teacher briefly turned around to call out whoever was interrupting her lesson but you resumed writing and Eric pretended to read the textbook page extremely closely. After she faced the board again, Eric raised his eyebrows at you, as if to ask why you disrupted his sleep. Not wanting to draw attention again, you passed him a note.

pay attention if you want the teacher to like you, trust me it works.

easier said than done, teacher’s pet.

Eric waited for you to read his note before he stuck his tongue out at you.

You were going to deny being the teacher’s pet when you were interrupted by Hyunjae, who sat on your other side. “Can you help me with number 1?”

“Uh sure.” You responded, despite wanting to work with Eric. You glanced back at Eric, but he began working on the new problem set by himself.

Though Eric’s eyes were focused on the paper in front of him, his ears couldn’t help but listen to your conversation with Hyunjae.

“You’re a lifesaver, thank you so much. Can I pay you back with bubble tea after school?” Hyunjae gave you a flirtatious smile.

Eric’s grip on his pen tightened. He convinced himself that he was only annoyed because he didn’t know how to solve the problem.

“I would never say no to free bubble tea.” You checked to see if Eric was listening from your peripheral vision once again, but he seemed to be disinterested. You weren’t sure why you kept looking back at Eric, maybe you wanted to see if he would object. Or maybe you wanted him to object. But he made no such move to stop you.

Hyunjae beamed. “Great, let’s meet up after class. And maybe we can study for the next test together?”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Were you just trying to bribe me with bubble tea?”

Eric’s head was facing downwards as he tried to hide his feelings of betrayal. The nerve Hyunjae had to steal his study partner.

“And if I was?” Hyunjae challenged.

“That was a smart way to bribe me, you might not even need to study with how smart you are.” You answered.

Eric slammed his pen down, causing you and Hyunjae to look at him.

“Oops, it slipped.” He blurted, feeling satisfied because he interrupted Hyunjae.

The bell rang and you rushed to copy down the homework into your planner.

“Do you want to work on the homework together?” Eric suggested while packing up his things. “I didn’t know how to do the third set of problems.” He added in, hoping that it would convince you to work together.

“I don’t know, I’m in high demand these days. Everyone wants to study with me.” You flaunted. Of course you would study with him, you just wanted to make him work for it. Eric rushed to follow you out of the classroom.

“Pretty please.” He pouted and gave you puppy eyes. You snorted at his attempt of acting cute, which he didn’t even need to do since he was naturally cute.

“Okay fine, but only if you stop doing that hideous face.” You stopped to open your locker.

Eric leaned on the locker next to yours and crossed his arms. “No one can resist this sexy face.”

“Yeah okay.” You replied in a sarcastic tone, though you secretly agreed with him. You took a pen out of your locker and grabbed his hand. Eric held his breath and watched to see what you would do next. You wrote your phone number on the palm of his hand. “Text me. Or facetime me, whatever works for you.” You shut your locker and headed to your next class.

Eric stared at your number on his hand and smiled to himself, his heart still racing from when you touched him.

While you walked away, you felt proud that you were able to pull that move off. But then the color drained from your face. You never said what time. The power rested entirely on Eric and when he decided to contact you. That means that you would have to wait and possibly be camera-ready all day.

As soon as Eric got home from school, he entered your phone number and saved your contact. He wondered whether he would seem too eager if he texted you right away. You were probably still studying with Hyunjae. Eric scoffed as he thought about how Hyunjae was there instead of him.

You stared at the black screen on your phone. Tapping on it for the millionth time, the screen read 8:15 pm. Why didn’t you specify a time? You dived for your phone every time you saw your phone light up with a notification.

Was he even going to facetime you? You glanced around your room in horror. You weren’t able to fix it when you rushed out of the house this morning. You could not let Eric see this mess. You got to work fixing your room while you waited for him to text you. Hearing the familiar vibration, you reached for your phone, hoping it wasn’t another spam email.

hey, it’s eric. are you free to ft and work on the hw rn?

Eric sent the text and threw his phone on the bed. He had spent 15 minutes debating whether his text was too casual. Hugging his pillow, he anxiously waited for you to respond.

yea i’m free

You checked your room once again to see if anything was out of place. Then you saw your reflection in the mirror. You were so caught up in fixing your room, you forgot to fix your appearance. You quickly applied something on your lips so you wouldn’t look too bad.

After sitting down in front of a lamp so you would have optimal lighting, you picked up his facetime call.

“Hey.” You felt your breath hitch in your throat. His hair was still wet from the shower he took just earlier. You didn’t think it was possible for him to get any hotter.

“So how was your date with Hyunjae.” He didn’t even try to hide the bitterness in his tone. Wow, real smooth Eric. He should’ve waited a bit longer to bring it up, but he couldn’t help it.

You laughed at his choice of a conversation starter. “It wasn’t a date, and it was actually very fun. Maybe I need to start charging you for my services. I’ll only accept payment with bubble tea from now on.”

“Spending quality time with me is your payment.” He replied with a smug look on his face.

You shook your head. “That is not enough, I fear.”

Eric crossed his arms and tried to look offended. “I’ll hang up right now then.”

“Need I remind you that you were the one that begged me to help you today?” You spoke matter-of-factly. “But if you must leave, go. I’m very busy you know.”

“Busy studying with other guys? I thought we had something special.” He dramatically clutched his heart.

“You wish, you are yet another one of my side hoes.”

“Your main hoe being boba?” He raised an eyebrow.

You paused to think of a witty response. “It seems you are more interested in my love life than those calculus problems you needed help with.”

“Those problems can wait.” He shrugged his shoulders.

“Fine, how about this? For every problem you get correct, you can ask me a question and I’ll answer it honestly.” You proposed.

Eric smiled widely. “I like how you think. And what happens if I get them wrong?”

“Then I get to ask you a question.” You replied.

“You won’t be able to ask me any questions.” His cockiness was apparent from how confidently he spoke. “The first solution is 5.”

Checking the answer to the first problem, you confirmed that it was 5.

“Since this is about your love life, do you have a boyfriend?” He asked, desperately wanting you to say no.

“Wouldn’t you like to know? Yes, I do have one.” You watched for Eric’s reaction. Eric’s smile dropped for a split second as he registered what you said.

“Oh really? Who? Do I know him?” He interrogated, completely dropping his previous act.

You felt amused watching him squirm. “That’s three other problems you have to get right.”

To your surprise, Eric continued to get the next three problems correct.

“So who is your boyfriend?” He phrased carefully.

“Hyunjae.” You said with a straight face.

Eric’s eyes grew 10 times the size they were. “Really?”

“Nah, I’m just playing. I don’t have a boyfriend.” You finally revealed the truth.

That definitely made Eric happier than he’d like to admit.

“You just made me waste two questions.” He emphasized by holding up two fingers.

“Did you even need help with those problems Eric?”

“Yes...but I figured them all out while you were flirting with Hyunjae.” He looked away from the screen.

“I was not flirting with Hyunjae.” You lied. You did flirt a little, but that was only because you wanted to see if Eric got jealous.

Eric rolled his eyes, not believing you. “Sure you weren’t.”

“You have not seen me flirt, believe me, you would know.” You told him honestly. If you were going to flirt with anyone, it would be him.

Eric’s smile returned once again. “I look forward to seeing that.”

You and Eric fell into a routine where you met up every week to study calculus. And then facetimed after school. And then texted at night. You would work together during class, and Eric would get annoyed every time Hyunjae tried to join.

You and Eric were prepared for the next calculus quiz and your efforts paid off. As soon as Eric got his quiz back, his first thought was to see the look on your face when he told you his grade.

At the end of class, Eric proudly dangled his quiz in front of your face, he couldn’t contain the smile on his face.

You saw a large A on the top of the first page and you pulled him into a hug. Before you could regret acting so spontaneously, Eric hugged you back just as tightly. This was the first time you both hugged, but it felt so comforting and you didn’t want to let go. “Wow I’m so proud of you, I can’t believe you’re scoring higher than me.” You said when you finally pulled away.

“I’m coming for your throne.” Eric winked at you.

After consistently doing well in the classwork, Eric realized that he didn’t need help anymore. The tutoring sessions eventually became an excuse to meet you.

Eric pointed at a problem, his eyes trained on yours, “Can you explain this to me?”

“Eric, you literally taught me how to solve this.” You giggled.

“Oh, did I? Um...well I forgot. Explain it to me again?” You could never resist Eric’s puppy-dog eyes. The more time you spent with him, the more you realized how cute he was.

“Graph this equation.” Eric had randomly said one day while you were studying at the library.

You stared at the equation he wrote and looked back at him with confusion. “How is this relevant to calculus?”

“Just do it.” He whined.

You reached for your graphing calculator and entered the equation.

Staring at the shape the equation produced, you were pleasantly surprised to see that it resembled...“A heart?”

You looked up to see Eric grinning from ear-to-ear, clearly proud that he was able to find this equation.

“Very cute Eric. This is why you urgently needed to meet up today?” You raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, that and I needed to talk to you about something else. My coach told me that the improvement in my grades is enough for me to rejoin the team.” Eric started, unsure of whether he should tell you that he didn’t need tutoring anymore.

“Oh really? That’s great news!” You kept your eyes focused on the paper. You knew that him joining the team would mean your tutoring sessions would have to come to an end soon. “I’m guessing you won’t have time to study anymore.”

Eric knew that he wanted to see you every day, but he didn’t want to pretend that he only wanted to meet you under the pretense of studying. He took a deep breath before speaking. You brought your eyes to meet his when you realized that something must have been up. Eric was never quiet for this long.

“I was wondering if you wanted to continue meeting up outside of school hours, just us two,” Eric asked hesitantly, waiting for your response.

Your eyes widened. Was he asking you out? It’s not a complete reach because you two have been spending a lot of time “studying.” You were afraid that you were taking his words in the wrong way. “You want to study outside?”

“Oh...no, no studying. It would just be us meeting up outside, no calculus.” He looked at the floor.

“Eric Sohn, are you asking me out on a date?” You asked him.

“Only if you’re comfortable with that. I’ve liked you for a while and I didn’t really need help anymore but I still want to see you often. I understand if you don-”

You cut off his rambling with a kiss. You resisted the urge to laugh at how red his ears were when you pulled away. “I like you too. Finally you can buy me my long-deserved boba.”

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grappling-with-my-baki-addiction · 3 years

Text

✨More Requested Headcanons✨

Howdy!

Sorry this is a smidge late, been busy with work and regular adult stuff. You know;

💖 Boring Crap That Costs me Money 💖

(ヘ･_･)ヘ┳━┳

(╯°□°）╯︵ ┻━┻

This request was submitted before my rules post so I still included Baki even though he is in canon a minor, I aged him up to his mid twenties. Let me know if this is problematic for some people, I only want to spread the good vibes and good times with ya'll sweeties!

Let me know your opinions on aging up characters, yay or nay? If anyone has a problem with it, please let me know!

I hope everyone is having a good day/night!

~Cheers

Their reaction to their Fem!S/o becoming drunk; confesses their love for, and then trying to seduce them. Then changing their mind and only wanting to give kisses and snuggle while continuing to confess their love.

Kaoru Hanayama:

He would find it a mix of endearing as well as amusing. More so depending on if his s/o is more shy or outgoing.

The shyer they are, he will tease them while holding them.

More outgoing, he will admire their honesty and boldness to openly talk about their feelings.

He finds it cute that they are teary eyed and confessing their love for him.

When they try to seduce him, kissing his face, caressing his neck, chest, grinding into his lap, he gets serious and a bit hot under the collar.

Hands going up and down their body, lifting their shirt off, and playing with the clasp of their pants…

Until his s/o becomes teary eyed again and goes back to confessing their love and saying they want to cuddle in bed for the rest of the night.

He’d chuckle at the turn of events, carrying his s/o to their shared bed and letting them have their cuddly way with him.

Hemming and haa-ing at his partners musings, stating his own feelings for them by holding them a little tighter, and just enjoying their presence.

“ There are no words elegant enough to describe my feelings for you “

Jack Hanma:

He’d 100% be laughing and enjoying their drunken shenanigans.

Since he's so freaking BeEfY, it takes a lot to get him drunk, so watching his s/o get smashed is always a verified good time.

Be ready to be teased relentlessly the morning after regardless of how bad the hangover is.

He knows they love him through their actions, so them taking the time to confess with their words only feeds his ego.

Though hearing them say it in public strokes his ego in the best way. Expect to be pinned to the nearest wall.

So when their confessions turn to incorrigible flirting, kisses, and steamy touches, he’s 1000% down for it.

He’d pick them up ASAP and move them somewhere more comfortable.

This isn’t the first time his s/o got this shit faced and he knows he has a time limit before they return to their lovesick coo-ing.

He’ll be trying to keep the mood going for as long as he can.

Unless his partner tells/shows him otherwise

We do not stand by boundary stompers in this house, no ma’am

When the mood eventually fizzles out, he’s fine to deal with his pent up vibes on his own time.

Being content with having his inebriated s/o ‘s coo-ing and the cuddles they offer.

Opting to Open a few beers for himself, resolved that he’s missed his window anyways.

if there is no sex tonight why not get shitfaced together?

“ No one drives me crazy like you do, never change. ”

Baki Hanma: (aged up to mid twenties)

Baki would be drunk with them.

Serenading each other with sappy love songs

hugging each other while repeatedly trying to one up each other in affection

“ I love you the most”

“No I love YOU the mostest”

“Well fuck you, I love you the morest”

He’s spent his life fighting and becoming stronger, so he hasn’t spent all that much time, if at all, around alcohol and building a tolerance to it.

Like give this man-child some bread please

So when his s/o tries to bring the sexy, it goes over his head.

He’s oblivious to their advances. All he knows is he needs to tell them he loves them more than they love him.

He’d touch their forehead with his, and just stare at them in a drunken haze,

“ Hey y/n, listen I won’t let anything happen to you, I promise. Just stay with me so I can protect you”

Beware of projectile vomit inbound.

Yujiro Hanma:

The absolute EGO BOOST this man gets

If they were somewhere public he is grinning and laughing like the mad man he is.

He’d be running his hands up and down his s/o back, sides, legs. Just enjoying the feeling of his rough, calloused hands rubbing against their much softer skin.

He’s half listening to them after a while, mostly just enjoying his own buzz and feeling them up.

When he feels them grind against him, his full attention is back on them.

He’ll give them a choice to stop here, if they don’t then they should expect to not walk tomorrow.

“ If you know what's good for you dollface, you'll have some water and call it a night. Unless you want to be my chew toy that is. ”

Kaioh Retsu:

Retsu would be loving the cuddles, and general fawning from his s/o.

Although he is concerned about the amount of alcohol they’ve consumed, he can’t help but find the blush on their cheeks to be adorable and in general just admiring them

Welcome to cuddle town

He’s making sure they are hydrated, giving them snacks, and just doing his best to help minimize the hangover that will be coming in the morning.

When they eventually try to seduce him, he becomes rigid.

He feels like he would be taking advantage of them in this state, so he's going to be doing everything in his power to settle them down.

Though he can't hide the deep blush on his face, no matter how much he wants to.

He’d keep them close to his side, still wanting to take care of them

tracing patterns on their back, and telling them stories from his time at the temple, and his travels.

Eventually he’d lull his drunken s/o to sleep, staring at their relaxed expression and be so content and proud to have them as his own.

“ Let’s stay like this, just a little while longer ”

Katsumi Orochi:

He’d be pretty bashful, as he was out drinking with his s/o, Atsushi Suedo, Kiyosumi Katou, and his Shinshinkai comrades.

Having his s/o clinging to him as they confess their feelings makes him feel a sense of pride.

They choose him, out of all the fighters, the men and women around them, they choose to be with him.

Katou and Suedo would be teasing the hell out of the pair.

Now imagine the awkward silence when y/n becomes a little spicy

Katsumi is red in the face, fumbling his words, unable to form a syllable, let alone a full sentence.

Katou is dying from laughter, cracking jokes, and in general just being Katou.

And Suedo is hiding his face, that's his brother’s partner and he (Suedo) is a respectful gentleman after all!

Ignore the gap in his fingies.

Katsumi would eventually regain enough composure to scoop up his s/o in his arms and go for the door.

He’s determined that now is a good time to call it a night for the two of them.

Whether they were able to sober up a bit during the escape or not, Katsumi would insist on carrying them all the way to their shared home.

They just look so cute in his arms, he might explode at the cuteness.

“ Like hell I’ll ever let you go. Now or ever, you're stuck with me ”

#baki headcanons #baki requests #hanayama #jack hanma #yujiro hanma #retsu kaioh headcanons #retsu kaioh #katsumi orochi #baki hanma #baki headcanon requests #kaoru hanayama headcanons #kaoru hanayama

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yesimwriting · 3 years

Text

Searing Starlight (chapter 3)

A/n I CANNOT believe how many people have supported this story,, I’m so excited to continue it with you guys :))

Just a reminder that while this is based off the show i hope to blend in some book aspects/vibes and this is just a fanfic and it won’t be completely accurate/follow the show 100% and any changes I make/parts I chose not to focus on are for the sake of the story I’m trying to tell

I can’t tell if I wish Kaz had let me go with Inej or not. She’s faster than I am, and considering that I have no real reason to be loyal to them, I’m a flight risk. That means I’m stuck here with only the Kaz Brekker and Jesper, who I tricked. I hadn’t exactly befriended Inej entirely in the few minutes I was alone with her, but she seemed more trustworthy than them. More susceptible to reason. And when she heard where I was from, who was responsible for raising me, something in the way she watched me changed. It was the oddest combination--a look of both tired sympathy and cautious admiration.

“What I don’t understand…” Jesper breaks the silence. “Is why you all go back there. He lets you leave, he gives you money--there’s no reason to return.”

I try not to let the question anger me. I shift awkwardly, scratching at my palm. “We tried leaving.” My stomach knots. “Once.” How do I make them understand? “He caught us because we young and stupid, and then he…” I exhale slowly. They’re just words. They don’t change anything. Whether I speak them or not, the events of my history aren’t different. “He picked the youngest, a girl only six months younger than me, and he slit her throat from ear to ear and took a finger of anyone that flinched as her blood splattered onto them. He said her blood was our penance and to live with knowing what we did to her would be our punishment.”

I don’t tell them that I was twelve. I don’t tell them Anya lied about my birthday on the records. I don’t tell them I’m missing the very tip of my pinky--a small punishment for the twitch of my lip. “When Kenya is truly angry, he never hurts you--he hurts those around you.” No one responds to that. They’re making me seem like such a bummer. “It’s not awful all the time...he borders on agreeable when you listen to him.”

Most days we have peace, left to our own devices as long as we accomplish certain goals. Their silence does little to unnerve me. After speaking so freely of such a nightmare, the desire to be rid of the taste of those words from my mouth is almost overwhelming, but I hold to the silence.

“Why has he never sold you to the grisha that are so desperate for you?”

Of course Kaz Brekker would ask a question like that. “He isn’t the business of money, he’s in the business of creating gods. He indentures people he thinks could one day become saints or something else entirely. He wants to be owed by the heavens.”

I watch Kaz carefully, a part of me curious about how someone like him could react to a goal like that. I can see him understanding the ambition of it all, but I can’t imagine himself a person of faith. Perhaps he’ll think it a clever trick. Perhaps he’ll even agree with Kenya.

He nods once; something I get nothing from.

Whatever. He can be coy and distant this entire time. They all can. I’ll be out of here soon enough, and I’ll find Anya. And if I can stop something bad from happening to Alina then that’s a bonus I’m willing to take risks for.

“That man is awful.”

Inej’s voice comes from right behind me. I snap my head around. “You’re in here.”

She nods once, oblivious to how shocking her sudden appearance is. She hands me a knapsack casually, staring at Kaz. “What’s the plan? We have six hours.”

I look around the room, only seeing one closed window and one closed door. “There’s one door in this room.”

“We take the Inferni to the ship.” He doesn’t even bother looking in my direction.

Okay, they can be mean to be all they want but they can’t ignore me. I don’t think I’ve ever been ignored in my entire life. Gods in the making get attention. It may be the cruel attention of fate, but it’s something.

“Did she come in through the window?”

Again, I am ignored.

“And then what, boss?” Jesper casually crosses the room, sitting down next to me on the small couch. It’s like I’m not even here. “We’d need to break into the Little Palace to get Alina.”

What? “You guys are going to--” No. No. I am not kidnapping Alina. And there’s no way she’d be in the Little Palace. “First off--if you want to kidnap Alina Starkov for whatever insane ploy you’re all playing at, you’d never find her at Little Palace. She’s not a Grisha and second--” I cut myself off, standing from my seat. “Why am I even telling you this? I shouldn’t be helping you kidnap her.”

Kaz’s eyes dart to me boredly. At least it’s some kind of acknowledgement of my existence. “I thought you two weren’t close.”

I seriously consider scorching him. Just a little. Not even enough to scar him, just enough to get him to shut up. “She’s still a person who has a right to her body and what happens to it.”

“Not that it’s any of your concern, but if we pull this off we get one million kruge.”

What does he think I’m going to say? ‘Okay, well as long as you’re doing it for a good reason.’ Is that the response he expects. “Okay, well that makes it fair.”

His eyes narrow skeptically, but Jesper is the one to ask, “Really?”

“No,” I scoff, slumping back into my seat, “I was being sarcastic.”

I drop my head back, neck craning over the back of the small couch. It isn’t exactly comfortable, but at least it makes it easier to ignore them. I’ve kept worse company for less. There’s an odd silence for a long second. I look forward without moving, I see Kaz vaguely gesture in Inej’s direction.

“Y/n,” Inej’s voice is refreshingly measured, “I think after the kinds of things we’ve gone through we understand that there’s some relativity in morality.”

I shift my head to the right so I can look at her. “...Yes, but you’re just forcing another girl into a similar situation.” Why is Alina even worth so much? “And why would anyone pay so much for Alina?”

Inej hesitates, glancing at Kaz and then back at me. “She’s a Sun Summoner.”

On instinct, I straighten entirely, my body rigid. They’re insane. “You all are cracked if you think Alina’s a Sun Summoner.” No. No. It couldn’t be her. “Bless your hearts, seriously, she’s--she was trained to be a map maker--she’s not…” None of them relax, none of them shift in any way. What good would lying about this bring them? They have no reason to lie about this. “Saints, I should have had more to drink while downstairs.”

So what if she’s a Sun Summoner? She didn’t ask to be one. She doesn’t deserve this. I cross my arms. “It doesn’t make this okay.”

“And would it make it okay if you were getting a cut of the profit?” What?

Kaz is looking at me in that tactful way. It takes all of my focus to not let myself become unnerved. “What?”

“If I offered you a cut, would you be able to push aside more protests in order to make working with you easier?”

Could I do it? Could I betray Alina? I drop my gaze away from his, opting to focus on the forgotten lantern on the coffee table in front of me. It flickers to life with no conscious prompting on my part. The flame is low and blue. Still though, Kaz notices it. What doesn’t he notice?

“I can help you do what I agreed to.” I swallow around a lump in my throat, “But I cannot help you kidnap Alina.”

The corner of his mouth tugs downwards. “We’re just going to get her to work with us.”

“Work with you?”

“We never said anything about taking her, and if Alina is really your friend you should know that the entire world is after her. Better us who can get her out of an unwanted situation quickly than the brutal General Kirigan who will hold her hostage until she does what he wants.”

...I guess he has a point. “Oh.” I’m not naive enough to think that their methods will revolve around making Alina comfortable, but perhaps it’s not as dark as I assumed. “Maybe I was a little quick to assume…” I trail off awkwardly, looking at Inej for some type of reassurance. She avoids my gaze.

I scratch the back of my arm, feeling like a spiraling child. I pick up my knapsack and place it on my lap, fiddling with the strap.

“Come on,” Kaz stands, adjusting his grip on his cane, “We only have until sunrise.”

As I stand, I pull down the skirt of my dress, suddenly aware of how inappropriate my clothing is for this late in the night. “Can--can I change first?”

It’s a sheepish question, leaving me feeling like a child.

“Five minutes,” Kaz offers, stepping out of the room with the rest of them.

Inej leaves last, feet more silent than a cat. She offers me the tiniest hint of a smile. Despite my reservations, I beam at her. Something about me finds her politeness endearing despite it all. I think she closes the door loudly on purpose, to assure me of privacy.

Normally changing in a building so full of drunk men would leave me nervous, but knowing Inej is outside leaves me feeling safe. I may not trust her with my life but something about her being tells me she values personal autonomy enough to protect it.

I sift through the belongings Inej brought me. Clean underwear I try not think of her searching for, a thin white dress, comfortable pants, shorts, a few casual shirts, my red hood, and a nightgown. When I get to the bottom of the bag, and I see the personal belongings Inej smuggled back for me, I’m moved so powerfully my hand flies to my mouth on instinct. She had brought the folded up piece of paper with the only information I’ve been able to find about Kamil, the book I left on my nightstand, the small candle holder Alina had given me the day before I was taken away, the blade Mal had given me the day I left, the deck of playing cards Anya had first taught me to play with, and my mother’s necklace. The silver north star on a long chain.

Before I can become too emotional, I take off the Crow’s Club T-shirt Inej had given me when I looked cold. I change into black pants, tucking the small blade Mal had given me into the pocket. The shirt I put on is pale blue, breaking the dark theme of everything around me. I fasten my red hood over my shoulders, basking in the familiar fabric. Lastly, I pull the north star necklace over my head, watching the blue orb with a black dot at its center blink at me in the light. I always found the stone at the pendant’s center odd. I'm quick to walk towards the door, nervous about what wasting their time could mean.

“Let’s do this,” I sigh, pushing open the door.

They all pause. Or maybe they were never moving. I try to imagine them interacting normally, but it’s hard to picture them as anything but intense and unflinching. There’s something odd about them, though, Jesper practically sulking and Kaz dropping his head despite Inej’s harsh stare.

“What kind of stone is in your necklace?”

I swear to the Saints that if Kaz Brekker tries to steal it I’ll melt those leather gloves into his hands. “Try to take it and--”

“That’s what I get for trying to make ‘polite conversation.’” He throws a look at Inej as he speaks the last two words.

Wait--did Inej tell him to try to make polite conversation? Wait--more importantly, did he just kind of, almost say something that borders on casual?

Wrinkling my nose, I let out a slight sigh. “Sorry.”

His eyebrows draw together quizzically. “Did you just apologize for assuming I’d steal from you?”

Great. Now I’m fully embarrassed. “Can we just go?”

“Not before meeting me, I hope.” The stranger’s voice means nothing to me, but the others tense at it immediately. What? The man continues to walk forward, his steps too casual and confident for me to trust. The stranger is quick to respond to the question on my face, “Pekka Rollins.”

Taglist: @ambrosia-v-black @fandomstuffff @boxofteenageideas @losers-club6 @cityofstaars @stillreadingfantasy @slatersbrekker @xoxo-aclown @alzawas-plug @nuwanda-greaser @swearingsolemnly @-thatgirloverthere-

General Taglist: @theincredibledeadlyviper @grishaverse7

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tsunonotarou · 4 years

Text

LEONA, JADE, FLOYD, ROOK’s ↷

reaction when S/O gets jealous and protective

notes: I notice us writers mostly write about—usually the canon male/female—being dominant and the other party is timid and shy, while I love that concept and idea since I’m a submissive bitch myself, I feel like we should get more S/O or reader who gets protective and goes grr

: gender-neutral reader!

LEONA KINGSCHOLAR

So there’s this crazy bitch who’s all over Leona ever since he was fucking born

They’re from a neighboring country and have been obsessed with Leona when they first saw him (honestly same) and as much as Leona didn’t want to admit it felt like heaven to attend Night Raven College because they’re AWAY from him

Magift is a nightmare because it’s open for everyone from everywhere to attend so he had already expected them

He planned to ignore them and steers clear of them as usual but they were extra persistent today

If they’re a guy Leona would have no problem scaring them away with a growl and possible threats

If they’re a girl though, it’s not going to be easy for Leona since he was raised to treat females with respect but then again, he knows that she does not deserve it

He also knows that you’re seething with anger

Your crossed arms while shifting your weight from side to side showed your frustration and impatience for them to get off

At this point he’d try harder and uses more of his energy to deal with them (he was a little lazy before) and tell them to go away but they just kept clinging and clinging

Leona’s eyes widened when you shoved them away, hard but not hard enough to make them fall on the ground and scrape their knee, just enough to keep them away

Your own arms wrapped around his and you stuck close, head resting on his shoulder, nuzzling your nose against his neck or trail your fingers a little lower on his waist than usual, anything to send the message across as you stare boredly at the ever persistent troublesome person

“Piss off.”

Normally people would get embarrassed/awkward after this and they’d leave but if they’re still on about it, pull Leona in for a kiss

A long, deep and passionate kiss from you sends him off the edge as he grabs you, smirking slightly at your behavior and also at the outsider staring at the both of you furiously

Will never let you forget this because he teases you almost everyday about this

If you're naturally a timid and shy person it's gonna be hell for you, because Leona is going to tease you ten times more

"Hey remember that time when you-" You smacked his head, hard.

"I don't regret it though, they were too close and I don't like it." Your adorable pout and red blush from his teasings only made his grin wider, and his heart racing faster

Proud of his herbivore, 100/10, would definitely want to see you getting protective again

JADE LEECH

They shamelessly flirted with him in Mostro Lounge, right in front of you

Constantly asking for Jade's assistance, ordering more and more just to have Jade serve them and if he's not available, they'll throw a tantrum

Of course Jade know about boundaries, he'd never want to make his lover upset, but then again, he's also curious as to what you'll do

Will you sit there and watch? Pout and wait for them to finally go away when Mostro Lounge closes? Be extra clingy with him afterwards? Silently cursing them? Or will you choose the popular trope of getting back at him by being physically close to another person?

Whatever you chose, he sure did not expect you to have a smile on your face as you call out to him, you are sitting just two seats away from them on the stool, so it is fairly easy to catch his attention without you trying to desperately cut off the one-sided conversation

You did what they couldn't. Holding his hand loosely as you talked about something semi-private (?)

"Hey, Jade. Where did I put my clothes again? That cream colored one. I know it's in your room but is it on the bed or bathroom? Have you seen it? Gotta go check it later..." To indicate that you've been to his room, countless of times

"Ah! I think you left your jacket in my room. Be sure to take it back before you go back to your dorm, okay?"

While Jade watches you and reply with an amused expression

This got them clenching fists and gritting teeth, and Jade can't exactly ignore them when they call for him since they're a customer, even if he's enjoying this a lot

You'd also pull on your clothes, kind of like flapping them when you're hot—even though it's quite chilly in Mostro Lounge—just to show them the bite marks Jade left the day before

*Thought I'd put this out just in case anyone misunderstands, y'all didn't have sex lmao because Jade is under 18, but he does leave bite marks every now and then ;)

When he does get away from their conversation and goes to you, like with Leona, you'd linger your hands a little lower on his waist than usual, or brush the bite marks you left that escaped the covers of his shirt collar

Nevertheless, expect Jade shaking his head when Mostro Lounge finally closes and them finally gone, though he can't hide the smile on his face

"My, my, I never knew you'd get to this point to drive them away."

He will forever remember this moment and the act you've pulled, truly memorable

FLOYD LEECH

The basketball team is having a friendly match with another school and the other school's team happen to have a manager

And man were they PERSISTENT

Offering to refill NRC's water bottles too when they went to refill for their own school's

Of course you're thankful for their help and thought it was out of pure kindness, but when their fingers brush over Floyd's for a little too long to hand him his water bottle and stays longer with Floyd than with other basketball players you knew something was wrong

Are they hitting on Floyd???

Ace and Jamil picked up on it and glances over you, with Ace shit talking about them and "If they're gonna do it, at least try to do it right." while criticizing their lame flirting skills and Jamil disapproving of their actions when Floyd clearly has a lover

Even if they're from another school, saying you didn't know is a lame excuse, not with how painfully different Floyd is with you than with others, it was obvious you two are together

Floyd, of course, is not dumb and oblivious and he is beyond annoyed at their constant touches and babblings he had no intention to listen to

Before Floyd could threaten to squeeze them to death, you're wrapping arms around his figure and called them out on their antics

"Don't you have your own team to attend to? Stop flirting with my boyfriend, he's not interested, take a sign."

Ace spit out his water and choked (yes he laughed)

Poor student scurried back to their own team's side and stayed there, as they should

Floyd would not care about attention as he picked you up in his arms, hugging you tightly and nuzzling close to you

"Shrimpyyy~! I love this side of you! Why haven't I seen it before?"

He probably already forgot about that student's existence as he only thinks of your jealous gazes and protective arms around him

Expect him to ask you to act like that again randomly, being all brave and calling people out, he loves this side of you!

ROOK HUNT

Rook is a social butterfly and will talk to anyone in anywhere

Much like Jade, he never intended to hurt his lover and upset them, but he's itching to know what you'll do. He has extremely good eyesight and knew you were close by, listening in to their conversation, possibly with a frown

Ah, a frown on your lips. That's not a sight he'd want to see! But the urge to reveal what kind of moves you'd make is stronger, so he refrained from walking away and chatted on

A smile played on his lips as he watches you stomp over, not sparing a glance to the other person as you locked your arms around his waist, tightly, then began to attempt to lift him up

...it didn't work

You didn't have enough strength so instead of lifting him over your shoulder (like what Rook usually do) you grabbed his gloves hand and dragged him away

Rook was certainly surprised, a big grin on his face as he laughed his heart out, bidding goodbye to the random student who had their mouth wide open

This only made you tug on his arm harder as an annoyed grunt and groan escaped you

When you looked back to them and sent a glare, that's when he lost it

He's sure he fell in love with you even more

When the two of you are alone he'd have your cheeks in his hands, staring at you lovingly, your squishy cheeks, furrowed brows and pouting lips are just too cute for him!

He will assure you that he will never do this again not telling you he was doing it on purpose to see what you'll do because you'll probably hate him his sweet words would surely calm you down

If you ever see Rook suddenly having a smile on his lips, you know that he's thinking about this incident again, and it freaks Vil out

#leona kingscholar x reader #jade leech x reader #floyd leech x reader #rook hunt x reader #twst leona x reader #twst floyd x reader #twst rook x reader #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland leona kingscholar x reader #leona twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland jade leech x reader #twisted wonderland floyd leech x reader #twisted wonderland rook hunt x reader #twst jade x reader

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honeypiehotchner · 4 years

Text

illicit affairs (Spencer Reid one-shot)

This is wayyy overdue! It’s just been sitting in my drafts, waiting for me to edit her, but she’s finally here. This is very loosely based on Taylor Swift’s song of the same title. And it’s 100% me writing out some feelings through fanfiction, so it’s also loosely based on true events. Enjoy!

Summary: You and Spencer have been “dating” without a label for a few months now, until you witness something that has you wondering if it was too good to be true (as always).

Warnings: it’s so dramatic. Angst with a happy ending!

Spencer has no fucking clue what he did.

Well, to be more accurate, Spencer has no idea if he even did anything at all.

One second the two of you were acting as normal as ever, attached at the hip and nothing less, and the next you’re barely able to look at him. You won’t speak to him, you insist you’re fine, and you ask him to leave you alone -- please.

A new case comes and he thinks things will fall back into their rightful place. He expects you to sit with him on the plane, but you choose the farthest seat away from him. He expects you’ll be paired with him when he says he’ll go to the local station to work on victimology, but instead you agree to Morgan’s offer to look at the crime scene.

He’s desperate. He’s a so-called genius, and he’s losing his mind.

“Morgan, help me out here, man,” Spencer pleads, cornering Morgan when he’s getting a coffee. He’s just returned from the crime scene with you, but of course, you’ve ducked away from Spencer.

Derek’s eyebrows raise. Slowly, he turns around, eyeing the desperate genius. “You’re asking for my advice?”

“She won’t talk to me,” Spencer whispers, eyes cutting to you, but only for a second. He doesn’t want you to think he’s creepily staring at you all the time. So far, you haven’t caught him (that he knows of).

“Well, what did you do?” Morgan asks like the answer should be blatantly obvious.

“I don’t know!”

“Alright, let me rephrase that for you,” Morgan’s tone is bordering on teasing, but he can’t help it. The resident genius of the BAU is having trouble talking to a woman. Who knew? “Have you done anything that would lead her to believe you’re not interested in her anymore?”

“What? No!”

“Think, Reid,” Morgan replies, tipping his cup of coffee in the air. “And when you figure it out, apologize.”

He leaves without another word. Morgan joins you and Emily back in the room where the team has set up base. You share a particularly heated look with Morgan, but he shakes his head, letting you know he didn’t betray your confidence. You relax.

Spencer doesn’t know this, but earlier when you were riding with Morgan to the crime scene, you confided in him.

It had been completely accidental. Something about car rides brings out the need to ask for advice. Maybe it’s the fact that there’s the road to focus on, or the case to segway into, you don’t know. But what you do know, is that when you confided in Morgan, he shook his head, and called Spencer a dumbass.

“Hypothetically,” you had begun, and Morgan remembers wondering if you were going to talk about the case, but you didn’t. “If you’ve been talking-- flirting with a guy and going on a few dates over the past few months -- but there’s no label -- but so if you’ve been doing all this and then you suddenly see him outside his apartment hugging another woman -- like arms around her waist kind of deal, face in her neck...what does that mean?”

Morgan had nearly slammed on the brakes. Reid? A two-timer? He never would’ve guessed. The kid could barely get his words out when he first met you, and now he’s playing you?

“Well, hypothetically,” Morgan played into your game. “I’d be suspicious. Personally, I don’t just hug any woman like that if I don’t have other intentions,” he shook his head. What you’re describing is intimate, especially for Reid. “You’re right to think something else is going on.”

“Who said it was about me?”

Morgan looked at you with his usual knowing stare. Sometimes you forget you’re all profilers. You’ve made deals not to profile one another, but you’re sure it still happens. You all have another silence agreement to never voice it aloud, unless needed.

“Fine,” you caved, crossing your arms over your chest. “I don’t know, I just-- I was going to drop off his stupid jacket that he left in my car the night before, and I saw him hugging her right on his doorstep and she kissed his cheek and I just-- I bolted. I don’t know.” You had let out a frustrated sigh. “I thought he was different.”

“If it helps,” Morgan shrugged, “I’ll kick his ass.” He might protect Reid like a mother hen, but he’s not afraid to give him a hard time, either.

“No, no, don’t,” you groaned. “I’m just gonna keep my distance. No sense in putting effort into something that clearly is never going to happen.”

“Oh, come on, don’t talk like that,” Morgan said. You used to talk that way all the time when you first started at the BAU, but it slowly died out the more you hung out with Spencer. Morgan connected the dots, but never told you.

“You know I’ve never been in a relationship?”

This time, Morgan did slam on the brakes.

“What?”

“Never,” you shook your head, motioning for him to keep driving. “Not one. They all fall through. I started thinking something was wrong with me, you know?” Morgan gave you another look, his sad, big brother one this time. “But then Spencer and I started getting closer, he took me on what I thought, I guess, were a couple of dates. I mean, he paid and drove and walked me to my door and all that cute shit. That’s a date, right? I mean, he never kissed me on the lips, but it’s Spencer.” You didn’t even look to see Morgan’s reaction, but he was nodding. “I started to think maybe it was never me, maybe it was the guys--”

“It was the guys,” Morgan argued. “Alright? You’re amazing. Anyone would be lucky to have you. It would be a damn honor. Don’t let that head of yours convince you otherwise.”

You shook your head, the crime scene rapidly approaching. “I’m not so sure anymore.”

You were out of the car and introducing yourself to the police on the scene before Morgan could even blink.

Morgan can only hope Reid had a good reason for having a woman at his door and hugging her, and letting her kiss his cheek. Reid doesn’t give hugs to just anyone, let alone accept a kiss, so whoever it was, obviously she was more than a friend.

The thought of Reid being a player makes Morgan smile. On the one hand, he’s a little bit proud. On the other, he’s pissed. It’s one thing to have one night stands with women who are into that sort of thing, but it’s another to drag someone along -- someone like you, someone who is too good, who deserves better than that.

Morgan had thought about telling you to just talk to Spencer, in hopes that there was a good reason for what you saw, but you’ve made it painfully clear over the past two weeks that you’d rather keep your distance instead.

So, he lets you. He can’t say that he blames you, really. Not after what you told him. He can only hope Spencer will figure this one out before it’s too late.

+++

After the case is closed and you’re back home, you immediately head for the shower. Cases are exhausting enough, but avoiding Spencer made it worse. Going from being attached at the hip to trying to be anywhere except in the same room as him took a toll on you. Not to mention, dodging everyone else’s worried looks. Morgan is the only one you’ve confided in, but that hasn’t stopped Hotch, Emily, JJ, and even Garcia from constantly asking if you’re alright.

Once you’re finished showering and in your pajamas, you head back to the living area. Spencer’s forgotten cardigan lays on the arm of your couch, lonely.

You know you shouldn’t, but you shrug it on anyway. No harm in wearing it. Not like he misses it. He probably has a hundred others.

You head to the kitchen to make yourself some tea, hoping it’ll soothe your nerves and help you drift off to sleep before your mind has the time to make you think of Spencer.

Too late.

Sighing heavily, you place the kettle on the stove. You hum a song while you’re at it, knowing that you’re being endlessly dramatic.

It’s not like you had sex with Spencer. Hell, the most the two of you did was hold hands and you kissed his cheek. He kissed your head once, though you think it was an accident.

Still, there was never a label. Why are you so upset?

Don’t call me kid, don’t call me baby/Look at this idiotic fool that you made me

It’s stupid, really, how hung up you are over this. A few dates don’t exactly mean anything at all. Flirting nowadays can mean nothing, too. You don’t understand any of it.

You cup your cheek gently, foolishly wondering what it would feel like if Spencer’s hand was there instead -- maybe even as he kissed you, but you don’t want to get too carried away. It’s not like anything will ever happen now.

And you know damn well/for you I would ruin myself/a million little times

Maybe you just need more time. This was the first time in a long time that you had let your guard down, let yourself go on dates. So many times it had all gone wrong, so you closed yourself off and focused on your career. You thought since you were stable at the BAU that now it was okay.

You thought Spencer -- Spencer Reid, of all people, you really thought he would’ve been different.

Maybe it’s just your type. Maybe that’s who you attract. The men who don’t want anything serious and never will. They’re stuck in Peter Pan mode. You must be Wendy. It must be a curse.

The kettle boils and you cut the burner off, fixing your tea.

You’re just walking back to the living room when there’s a knock on your door. You freeze, your panicked mind expecting the absolute worst, until you hear Spencer’s voice.

“Y/N?” He calls out. “It’s Spencer-- You probably knew that already.”

You smile into your tea, but you make no move for the door. You want-- no, you ache to let him inside, but you know it’s a bad idea. He’s probably here to ask if you’re alright, and you don’t have the energy to answer him. He’s probably going to go back to his girlfriend after this. You really don’t know that you can handle a face-to-face rejection.

“Y/N, please,” Spencer says again, pleading. He knocks once more, quietly. “I see lights are on, so I’m just going to...assume you can hear me.”

You walk a step closer. You don’t want to let him inside, but maybe you can listen. That won’t be too bad, right?

“Y/N, I’m...I’m sorry.”

Oh, tears. Stupid, stupid tears. You wipe them on the sleeve of his cardigan, glad that they’re at least falling quietly right now.

“I don’t know what I did, but I’m...I’m just sorry and I miss you and it’s killing me that you won’t even look at me. I…” Spencer pauses, and you walk closer, biting on the sleeve to keep from letting out a sob. “I’m sorry, I don’t… Please, just tell me what I did.”

You press your back to the door, sliding down until you hit the floor. You keep your knees against your chest and set the mug of tea down next to you. The noise causes Spencer’s ears to perk up.

“Y/N? Is that you?”

“Yeah, Spencer,” you barely speak loud enough for him to hear. “It’s me.”

“Please, tell me what I did,” he pleads, voice breaking. Is he crying, too? “I don’t know what it was, but I’ll fix it. Or I’ll try-- Please, let me try.”

“Spencer…” You sigh, tears falling down your cheeks with no restraint. “Be honest with me, are you seeing someone else?” You pause, choking on a sob. So many times you’ve had this conversation, the rejection, finding out you weren’t the one they wanted. Too many times. But none of them ever hurt this bad. “Do you have a girlfriend?”

“What?” Spencer nearly falls over. Why on earth would you think that? “What are you talking about? Of course not.”

“Don’t lie to me, please,” you groan, pressing your hand to your forehead. This is pathetic. You shouldn’t be showing him how upset you are. And through a door, no less. Can you get any more dramatic?

“What are you talking about?”

“I was at your apartment, Spencer,” you mutter, wiping angrily at your cheeks. “I went to drop off this stupid cardigan of yours and you-- You were hugging a woman outside your door and I saw it and I saw her kiss you--”

You cut yourself off, choking on another sob, and Spencer sighs. He understands now.

“Open the door. Please,” he says.

“Why?” You reply quietly. “If you’re just going to reject me, please, just do it through the door.” The last thing you want is for him to see you like this when he tells you he’s seeing someone else, that he didn’t even know you liked him, and so on.

“I’m not rejecting you,” he says softly. “Please.”

You know it’s a bad idea, but how much worse can things get?

You stand to your feet and open the door, careful of the mug of tea on the floor. Spencer’s heart drops at the sight of you. Tear stains on your cheeks, red eyes, your quivering lip as you try to hold things together, and...his cardigan hanging off your shoulders. Somehow the last tops it all off, sends a strike of pain right to his heart.

You wipe some more tears away with the sleeve, motioning for him to start talking. “Go on.”

“She’s an old friend. We did kiss before, once. But she’s not my girlfriend. She was in town and wanted to stop by to tell me she’s getting married...to her girlfriend of three years.”

You nod slowly. For some reason, that doesn’t even make you feel better. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Spencer asks, hopeful tone and all. “Are we okay?”

“What are we, Spencer?” You ask, eyes still watering. “I can’t keep going on the way we were going, you know? It’s agonizing, I just want to know what’s going on in your head.”

Spencer smiles softly. “I want you to...to be my girlfriend.”

Your ears are deceiving you. They must be. “Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure. I thought it was obvious,” he chuckles. “That’s one of the things I talked to her about -- her name’s Jess. She invited me-- us to the wedding. I was gonna ask you to be my girlfriend-- I still want to, I mean, if you’ll have me.”

More tears spring to your eyes and Spencer’s heart jumps, thinking he did something completely wrong.

“What happened? Did I say something?”

“No,” you shake your head. “God.” You wipe at your cheeks before turning and retreating back into your apartment. Spencer has no choice but to follow you.

He spots your mug of tea and places it on the coffee table as he shuts your front door gently with his foot.

“I’m so...stupid,” you mutter, jumping when you see he’s followed you inside. He’s not unwelcome here by any means, you’re just an idiot. A huge idiot.

“You’re not stupid,” he argues. “I wish you would’ve talked to me.”

“Would you believe me if I told you this has happened to me before?” You murmur pathetically, propping your body against the arm of your couch.

Spencer’s heart breaks more. You won’t look at him again.

“I’m sorry,” you sigh, clasping your hands together, fighting the shakes. “I should’ve talked to you, I just-- This has happened before and those times it was… Well, you know.” You finally look up at him, tears falling. “The first time the guy didn’t even try hiding it. The second one did, but not very well because I still found out. The third wasn’t even aware that he was flirting with me, I guess. I don’t know how you can take someone on dates for months and not be aware, but he said he wasn’t.” You pause, looking away again. “I just saw a pattern and I freaked out and I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Spencer whispers, even though you still feel like it’s not.

You shake your head.

“Y/N, it is,” he presses on. “I should’ve...talked to you about how I’m feeling, but I was scared. You’re the first girl that’s-- I don’t know, liked me for me, I guess. Dorkiness and all.”

You chuckle, and Spencer nearly grins. He got a laugh. That’s something.

“How about we both make a deal to communicate better?” He offers. You nod, so he keeps going. “I’ll go first. I really want you to be my girlfriend.”

You can’t help but smile now, all dumb and trying to hide it in the sleeve of his cardigan. “I’d really love to be your girlfriend.”

“Yeah?” He asks, almost like he wasn’t even expecting you to agree, but you nod, confirming it for his genius brain.

The kiss the two of you share is a long time coming. It’s gentle and warm, relaxing your muscles and easing the tension you’ve held in them for the past two weeks. Spencer gathers you in his arms, keeping you close, with zero intent of ever letting you go.

+++

When you walk into the BAU the next morning, you are painfully reminded that you are surrounded by the best profilers in the country.

It’s no secret that you and Spencer have been “dating” for a while, but you never showed PDA -- partly because the two of you were fumbling around your true feelings, and partly because you’re not too sure how relationships stand with protocol here.

Apparently, despite coming in fifteen minutes apart from one another, everyone can see right through you both.

Morgan is the first to say something. He catches you when the elevator doors open and you have Spencer’s cardigan hanging over your shoulders. In your defense, Spencer forgot to grab it when he left your house sometime this morning, so you were just trying to return it -- again.

“Late night?” Morgan raised his eyebrows.

Realizing your mistake, your eyes widen. “Shut up.” You step off the elevator and point a threatening finger in his face. “Not a word.”

Morgan’s hands raise in surrender, but he still has that goddamn smile on his face. “Might wanna take off that cardigan, sweetheart. You’re too obvious.”

Angrily, you shrug it off and walk into the bullpen.

Spencer is at his desk, so you shove his cardigan into his chest. “You forgot this.”

Upon seeing that it’s you, Spencer’s lips stretch into a grin. “Thanks.” He pauses, folding the cardigan over his arm. “I was kind of hoping you’d keep it,” he whispers, eyes darting around to be sure no one is listening. “It looks better on you, anyway.”

You bite down hard on the inside of your cheek. “Give it to me tonight, then,” you wink, earning a light blush on Spencer’s cheeks.

Hotch watches this encounter from the railing and smiles. He’s sure neither of you will do anything to warrant him giving you a stern talk about relationships and work, so he won’t mention anything for now.

Instead, he retreats back into his office, glad you’ve finally gotten over yourselves.

Garcia catches on when you come to visit her in her office only to find Spencer already standing there. He’s animatedly talking about Doctor Who, but stops abruptly when he sees you. It doesn’t take a profiler to understand the glances, the smiles, and awkward goodbyes that were shared so you could ask Garcia a question.

Prentiss is just glad the two of you will look at one another again, but the way you keep glancing over her shoulder to see Spencer is more than obvious. It’s so obvious that Prentiss and JJ share a knowing look, but say nothing. They should’ve placed bets.

You and Spencer catch each other’s eyes more than a dozen times every hour, and he follows you to the break room to conveniently get a coffee at the same time as you.

Yeah, you’re not being obvious at all.

Neither of you notice that the team has caught on, so you take your chances when you find yourselves alone in the break room. You can practically hear the conversations the rest of the team is having out in the bullpen, so you let Spencer pull you into his arms, his chin resting on top of your head.

This is a lot for Spencer, and you too, if you’re honest. Hugs are something you never found yourself enjoying, but when you’re tucked into Spencer’s chest, you never want to leave.

You’re both too busy holding one another to hear Hotch’s footsteps as he enters the room. The clearing of his throat is what finally breaks the two of you apart.

“Agent Hotchner,” you blurt, straightening yourself and taking one too many steps away from Reid.

Hotch smirks. You haven’t called him that since your first day. “New case. Looks like a short one. Conference room in five minutes.”

And he leaves as quick as he came, chuckling under his breath.

You and Spencer share a look before dissolving into laughter and fixing your coffee. You don’t try to walk out of the break room separately, knowing that there’s no use.

Especially not when you get cold on your way to the conference room, and Spencer promptly wraps you in his cardigan.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fluff #angst #fluff #angst with a happy ending #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction

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outerbankspreferences · 3 years

Text

Flight - Rudy Pankow

A/N: This makes Elaine out to be a bitch, but I don’t think she is. I support her and Rudy 100% and think they make a wonderful couple. It was more for the plot.

Word Count: 1885

MASTERLIST

Flying had never been a problem before. You’ve never had to film anywhere that you couldn’t drive to. You had done some acting jobs around LA, and one time you went to Nashville before getting a part in Season 2 for Outer Banks. Netflix had offered to pay for you to fly out to North Carolina, but you opted for driving instead. You didn’t know anyone you were filming with, so you drove yourself.

Of course, you had been dreading filming in Barbados since you got the part. You had the biggest fear of flying and had been avoiding it since you were little. When you got the email from Netflix that contained your ticket to say that you were panicked was an understatement. Drew, Chase, and Maddie C. were already in Barbados, so it was going to be you, Rudy, Jonathan, Elaine and Maddie B. Everyone was just going to carpool to the airport.

Rudy had a thing for you since he met you at the first table read for season 2. You were shy at first but quickly came out of your shell when you started to get to know everyone. Rudy thought you were hilarious and enjoyed your company so that’s what caused him to be knocking on your door the night before you guys had to leave for your flight.

When you opened the door in your sweatpants and messy bun, he still thought you looked beautiful. “Hey, I thought you would be asleep.” Rudy spoke up and you moved to let him in your apartment. “Yeah well, I guess I’m a nervous flyer.” You laughed to yourself, “do you want a cup of tea?” You asked grabbing one of your mugs. Rudy had noticed your book and mug in the living room when he sat on the couch. “I hope I’m not interrupting you” Rudy spoke up as you walked into the living room handing him a drink. “No, you’re not, I just figured I’d pass the time until I fell asleep.” You responded, the both of you sitting on the couch. “I didn’t know you’re a nervous flyer, what did you do when you had to come to North Carolina?” Rudy questioned. “Uh, I drove.” You shrugged like it was the simplest thing to do. “What, that’s like a 3-day drive.” He said baffled by your answer. “Well yeah, but it’s a good way to see the country.” You laughed thinking about the memories you made on the solo road trip. “And you did it by yourself? That’s badass Y/L/N.” Rudy said smirking.

The two of talked the whole night away and you showed him pictures of your trip across the country and told him all the stories. Rudy thought that he could listen to you talk all night, even after he started to get tired. He finally excused himself from you place promising to sit with you on the plane tomorrow to ease your mind.

You woke up the next morning with a sick feeling in your stomach and it only got worse at the thought of getting on an airplane. You got the rest of your last-minute things packed up and brought out by your door getting ready to meet everyone at JD’s car. You were the last to show up when Elaine shouted out to you. “I thought you weren’t going to show.” She spoke with a snarky tone, and Rudy nudge her shoulder getting her to knock it off. “Yeah, well I’ll probably be late to my own funeral.” You laughed trying to ease the tension. You guys all piled in the car and Elaine took the opportunity to sit next to Rudy and made you sit in front with JD, while Maddison sat in the back.

Elaine also had a thing for Rudy and didn’t enjoy you showing up to take his attention away. Everyone thought they were going to get together after season 1 but it never happened. Then you came along, and Rudy pulled all his attention to you. Elaine wasn’t too secretive about her hatred towards you, but you just brushed it off as a mild insecurity and jealousy. You weren’t angry that you had to sit up front but instead talked to JD and tried to ease some of your nerves. No one else knew that you were a nervous flyer and you preferred to keep it that way. Even though it was something simple, you were still embarrassed.

Once you guys got to the airport the nerves got even worse. Because of the pandemic you guys had to wear mask and you also had sunglasses on, so it was hard for people to recognize you guys. Rudy helped you carry your bag into the airport and then guided you to TSA. “Have you ever been in an airport?” Rudy asked whispering in your ear so no one could hear. “Uh once when I was little with my mom. We had to pick up my grandma.” You responded. Your eyes darted around to all the people and different screens and you started to get overwhelmed. Rudy could sense that you were started to get anxious and put a hand at the small of your back pulling you closer to him. “We’ll get checked in and then go get some air, okay?” He explained grabbing his passport and paperwork. You pulled yours out of your purse and laughed when he saw that you had everything in a little Ziploc baggy. “Alright, that’s the most mom-like thing I’ve ever seen” he said.

Rudy helped you get through the process of security and then you guys were about to go outside when Elaine spoke up, “where are you guys going?” She asked almost annoyed of you guys leaving. “Y/N/N and I are going to find the bathroom. Safety in numbers.” Rudy fibbed, pulling you along. Once you guys got outside the two of you sat on a bench close enough to your gate that you wouldn’t have to rush when your flight got called. Rudy watched your body relax a bit when you weren’t stuck inside.

“It’s going to be okay Y/N/N.” Rudy spoke pulling you to sit on the bench with him. “I know, I know.” You said half trying to convince yourself. “I’ll be next to you the whole time, and we can just talk, or you can read your book. It’ll be over before you know it.” He spoke and put a hand on your shoulder, and he could feel your breathing increase. He knew what was happening, you were about to have an anxiety attack, “okay Y/N, you need to take a deep breath.” He rubbed small circles on your back. “I can’t do this Rudy; I can’t be in that death box for over 11 hours.” You spoke and your voice starts to shake. You look over at Rudy and he’s got a concerned look on his face. He takes your face in his hands forcing you to look at him, “you’re going to be okay Y/N, I’m going to be with you the whole time. Nothing is going to happen, just please take a deep breath.” He spoke firmly but you could feel the softness of his hands. “You promise?” “Of course, I would never let anything bad happen to you.” You nodded your hands in his grip, but he didn’t let go and you could feel his hot breath on your face. Rudy was looking into your eyes and then his eye flicked down to your lips and you could feel yourself getting nervous again but this time it wasn’t the flight, but because of how close Rudy was too you.

Rudy leaned in closer, and you let your eye flutter shut. You felt Rudy gently place his lips on top of yours and you pushed yourself closer to him to deepen the kiss. It that moment it felt like you were on cloud nine, as if it were only you and Rudy left in the world. Rudy pulled away and left you smiling like and idiot. “I’ve wanted to do that for a while now.” He whispered, and you kissed him again. “Me too.” The two of you giggled and then heard your flight get called. “Just remember, I’m here the whole time.”

When the two of you got back to the gate the others had already boarded expect for Elaine. When Rudy saw her, you could feel his grip on your hand tighten. “There you guys are, what took so long?” She asked seeming annoyed. “The just called for the flight, we’re not that late.” You spoke up, and Elaine rolled her eyes at you. “I saved you spot next to me Rudy, Y/N can sit next to Madison.” She explained pulling at Rudy’s arm. “Uh that’s okay, Y/N is kind of nervous so I said I would sit with her.” He explained trying not to be rude. Elaine scuffed, and the three of you boarded the plane. You were sat right behind Maddie, JD and Elaine, “here take the window seat, it’ll make it easier on you.” He said stepping to the side so you could get in. The flight attendant was giving the inflight instructions, explaining how to put the oxygen masks on and your leg started to shake. Rudy noticed and put his hand on your thigh, “it’s okay, they have to explain all this stuff Y/N/N.” He whispered in your ear kissing your cheek. You nodded in confirmation and soon enough the pilot was getting the plane ready for take off.

As the plane started to gain speed and lift in the air you watched out the window, and Rudy got you a drink of water for the flight. You guys had been flying for about an hour and you were looking out the window but Rudy’s grip on your thigh never left. He was talking to JD, when you guys hit some turbulence. You jumped and clung onto Rudy’s hand, “nervous flyer Y/L/N?” JD asked not missing the way you reacted. “I don’t know why she would take a job like this if she’s scared of flying. Kind of stupid if you ask me.” Elaine piped in making you feel embarrassed. “It’s not stupid Elaine, everyone is scared of something.” Rudy said defending you. “It’s fine babe, just a bit of turbulence.” He said and you blushed at the nickname. “Can we listen to music or something, I think I just need a distraction.” You asked, and Rudy pulled out his headphones.

“Thanks.” You spoke, not really knowing what to say to him, “I owe you big time.” Rudy laughed, “it’s no problem. When we get to Barbados you can self isolate with me if you want.” He responded. “I hope I’m not being to forward, but I’ve had a crush on you for a while now, and I’m going to assume you feel the same for me.” He explained. You did have feelings for Rudy, you always had but you kept your distance because you thought he had a thing for Elaine. “I would love too self isolate with you. it would be much better then doing it alone.” You said leaning in to kiss him. “And yes, I like you too.”

TAG LIST:

@lemur46 @drewstarkeysbitchh @taylathornton

#rudy pankow #rudy pankow x reader #rudy pankow x you #rudy pankow blurb #rudy pankow imagines #rudy pankow x y/n #rudy pankow outer banks #Outer Banks

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bucky-barmes · 3 years

Text

I told you you'd laugh at me

꧁❣︎꧂

In which reader tries to pat the local stray and Steve bandages her back up, only laughing a little

[a/n: a bit of a shorter one, kinda a drabble i guess?? idk i like it and it’s definitely something i would do oops]

[includes: blood (only a little), cat scratches, non-descriptive!reader (no gender/appearance), minor bad words (bitch, shit, crap, arse), no sexual themes, -18 friendly]

word count: 954 words

(gif from bonniebirddoesgifs)

꧁❣︎꧂

The elevator doors to the tower slid open and you skulked in, clenching your forearm with your right hand. There was no visible blood through your fingers, but it still hurt like a son of a bitch. As the elevator announced the main living level of the tower, you straightened your back, reluctantly letting go of your arm. All in hopes that no one would notice.

As long as no one stopped you on your way to your room, you’d be fine. Just gotta get through the lounge, the kitchen and the somehow always busy hallway. Easy, right?

The doors slid open again and you shyly stuck your head out, looking right and then left. Coast clear, thank god. You stepped out, the warm air of the lounge making your left arm throb even more than it already was, making you wince. You padded softly through the lounge, trying to make as little sound as possible, not the easiest feat when walking on hardwood floors in Doc Martins. Successfully, you made it to the kitchen without being seen. “Halfway there.” You murmured to yourself, barely above a whisper, a satisfied smile making its way to your lips. That smile, however, disappeared completely when you turned to continue your way through the kitchen and collided with a… wall? No, a perfectly chiselled torso that could belong to only one person. “Steve?” His name squeaked out, weaker than you had planned. “Y/N, what’re you doing?” Steve’s head tilted to the side, questioning why you were sneaking around the tower, your home.

“Just, uh, practicing my sneaking for missions?” Damn you and your inability to lie. The best you could do was offer him an unsure smile. “Right, well, as decent of an effort that you were making, why?” He pressed further, only slightly bruising your ego. “You can never be too prepared for sneaking.” You jut your jaw out, confidence slowly rising, that is, until Steve’s unbelieving eyes burned into yours. Your eyes dropped. Shit. That familiar red colour was soaking through your sleeve. Not a lot, but enough to notice. And Steve noticed, obviously. “What the crap Y/N, you’re bleeding!” He grabbed your arm to assess the damage, causing you to wince. “Language, Captain.” An average attempt to keep the situation light. Steve always worried about the team, worried too much when minor things happened. Even more so when it came to you. Everyone else on the team had something extra about them, a suit made of iron, mad espionage skills, being a literal god. You? You were just an average Joe-blow that started as an intern thanks to Pepper and somehow ended up getting taken in by the team. You didn’t question it and you definitely didn’t mind it, there was never a boring day on the job.

“You didn’t answer my question, Y/N,” Steve pulled you to the kitchen table, pushing you down onto a chair by your shoulders. “What happened?” He was already in a cabinet, grabbing the first aid kit. “You’ll laugh at me.” You fidgeted with your fingers, recounting what happened. “Only if it’s extra silly.” He winked, placing the first aid kit on the table and rolling up your sleeve. “These are scratches, Y/N. Who did you piss off this time?” He analysed the scratches. Too small to be a human's nails, unless from a small child? Surely not, you could almost hold your own up against Sam, a child couldn't take you down. “That local stray I’ve been feeding,” you offered him a sheepish smile. “It was extra friendly today so I thought I could try and pat it.” “Y/N, cat scratches from a regular house cat can be dangerous, let alone a stray we know nothing about.” Steve rolled his eyes. God, you were cute. You’d taken a liking to the stray cat that had been lurking around the street, started feeding it because ‘it’s so skinny, I don’t think it has a home, Stevie’. He had helped you out with it, loving watching how happy it made you when the cat slowly started warming up to you. Clearly, it hadn’t warmed up to you 100% yet. He chuckled to himself at the thought of you trying to coax it out enough to reach out to it.

“I told you you’d laugh.” You stuck your bottom lip out in a pout, half mocking, half serious. “I’m not laughing at you, just at the thought of Tigger giving you a sideswipe.” You hissed as Steve dabbed your wounds with antiseptic. “I think he was just in a bad mood. I ran out of his favourite food and he wasn’t happy with me.” That only made Steve chuckle more. “Well he can’t have been too mad with you, the scratches aren’t too deep, no need for stitches or anything like that, just a couple’a bandages.” “It’s okay, I forgive him anyways. I’ll try again in a couple of days.” You offered him a giddy smile as you watched him wrap a bandage around your forearm. “I’m beginning to think your whole thing might be animal empathy.” “I definitely wouldn’t be mad at that.” Steve looked back to you, “and you’re all done. Next time you try to tame him, invite me too.” You cocked your head, not quite sure where he was going. “So I can have a front row seat.” “You are such an arse!” You narrowed your eyes, swatting his arm with your good hand.

“How about we go get some food, cat and human, what’d’ya say?” Steve smiled down at you, offering you a hand up. “Sounds good to me,” you take his hand up, walking towards the elevator. “And I’m sure Tigger would agree too.”

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shades-of-stony · 3 years

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ABO Stony AUs! (Part 2)

As promised, here is part 2! [link to Part 1] I’m not sure if I’m gonna make part 3 but there are still a bit ABO fics left.

A King For Christmas by iam93percentstardust

Summary: In 1867, Tony Stark flees New York after refusing to marry the alpha his parents chose for him. His money runs out in the small kingdom of Dacia, ruled over by King Steven of the Rogers line. Somehow, and he’s not entirely sure how, he ends up accepting the position of nanny to the king’s four children: Harley, Peter, Sarah, and Morgan.

Tony bonds with the children easily but their father is harder to get to know. Steve is still grieving his wife’s death four years earlier. His continued mourning has turned the once bright halls into dark and somber shadows of their former glory. Tony isn’t entirely certain what he can do but he knows that he has to do something or else the whole country, so attuned to their leader, will sink into despair. He begins by reconciling the king with his young children.

Meanwhile, the children have decided that it’s high time their father fall in love again—and Tony is the obvious choice. They concoct elaborate plans to force the two together, hardly realizing that Steve and Tony are falling in love, not through their shenanigans but through the quiet moments they share bonding over the love they have for the children.

What, Like It’s Hard? by JehBeeEh

Summary: Omega Tony Stark has it all, until his alpha boyfriend breaks his heart. In an effort to win him back, he follows the alpha of his dreams to Harvard Law School, where he discovers there might be more to being the first omega at the prestigious school. He also meets another alpha that might just make him forget the one he drove across the country for.

Two-Point Perspective by FestiveFerret for sabrecmc

Dear omega,

Congratulations! You've been selected. Alpha #95847872 has been assigned as your pre-bondee. A group bonding ceremony will take place on the 14th, unless other arrangements have been made by your alpha or their family. A valid bonding license must be submitted to Omega Services within 45 days of this letter or all services will be cancelled and any transferable benefits will not be applied to your alpha's package.

If there is some reason why you cannot be bonded on this date, please apply for an extension by calling 1-800-555-6827 within 7 days of receiving this letter.

Sincerely, National Omega Services

I Love You (From the Bottom to the Top) by RomancebyFaye for Reioka

Summary: Steve and Tony have a great relationship. They may have only been dating for a few months, but the truth is, they had been in love for years before that. Their relationship is only getting better from adding this new intimacy and Steve is very satisfied with how open Tony is in the bedroom. He’s giving and generous, sometimes to a fault, just as he is with everything.

And then Steve comes home early and catches sight of something he wasn’t meant to see. The shock he gets from the sight of watching his alpha ride a toy might not have been meant for him, but it doesn't stop him from wanting.

Now, if he can just figure out how to tell Tony how much he wants what he witnessed without putting his foot in his mouth…

Or Tony offers Steve something in the bedroom and Steve misunderstands the offer.

Until he doesn’t.

A Prime, Divided by avengersasssemble

Summary: Facing his and his infant son's possible death sentence, young prince Tony runs away to the only place where his father would dare not follow: the Northern Territories, known to house the most savage and brutal Alphas--including their bloodthirsty leader, the Prime Alpha. Forced to navigate fatherhood and diplomacy while being unable to speak the Northern language, Tony has to make decisions to save his son, even at his own expense.

Oversight by ShyOwl

Summary: It really wasn’t Steve’s fault that no one knew he was an omega.

I Love You 3000 by NazakiSama166

Summary: After the death of his husband, the only thing Steven Rogers could think of was going on and dying in one of his missions, and Steven was happy to get his wish.... that was until he woke up in a strange universe when people can shift into wolves and men can get pregnant... Oh, and did he mention that Tony was there too and was in love with his younger jackass self? And let's not forget about Peggy...

Life just loves to mess with him...

Dear Enemy by AvengersNewB

Summary: Alpha Steve and omega Tony are SHIELD agents who don't always see eye to eye, but some benefits on the side help them work things out in the most non-traditional way. Steve's jealousy after an unfortunate encounter with Ty Stone, however, makes things complicated.

Love Match by FestiveFerret

Summary: Tony had but one goal for the season: secure a marriage proposal from an alpha with the position and means enough to remove him from his father's house. Love was wholly irrelevant to the matter.

Stuck in a... by Annie D (scaramouche)

Summary: Steve gets into a serum-enhanced rut. Tony figures that there’d be a long list of people who’d volunteer to help Steve out, but there’s only one person Steve wants.

A Late-Night Snacks, and Other Good Ideas by Annie D (scaramouche)

Summary: Steve's heightened senses means that he always knows when Tony's in heat. One night, he finally does something about it.

citrus and lavender by JehBeeEh

Summary: Steve laid Tony on his bed as delicately as he could manage. Which was ridiculous because he knew, logically, that Tony was absolutely fine. JARVIS himself had told him. And that’s 100% why he had fought Natasha so hard on Tony not needing to go to medical when they came back, even though he probably could use the check up. Yup. That was definitely the only reason he had insisted on bringing Tony back to the penthouse. No other reason at all. If you keep this up, you just might start believing it, he thought to himself ruefully. Tony wasn’t his. He had made it very clear that he didn’t need some alpha in his life to mess with everything he’d worked so hard to accomplish. Especially not Steve Rogers.

Found Love in a Hopeless Place by crispybacon

Summary: Steve really, really did not want to tag along with his brother to the bar, no matter how many times the jerk nagged him that he needed to get laid. Just because Bucky’s known his Omega since kindergarten, and the pair have loud obnoxious sex in their shared small two bedroom apartment, didn’t mean Steve needed to stick his knot in any Omega that looks his way.

That’s not the kind of Alpha Steve was.

Or, Steve goes to a bar and meets an Omega with a complicated past that changes his life forever.

This is Not a Drill by sabrecmc

Summary: “Can I—can I see him? I mean meet him. Uh…welcome him to the team?” Tony clarified, probably not very well, he knew.

“Well…there’s a bit of an issue with that,” Fury said, and Tony figured this was where Fury got to whatever it was that had really forced his hand and made him call Tony in, knowing how much the man detested having to do so. “You see, well. He was suspended in the ice for nearly seventy years,” Fury began. Tony nodded along, because he could do math.

“I’m sure he has a lot of adjusting to do—“ Tony started.

“Seventy years,” Fury repeated, cutting Tony off and leaning back in his chair and making it rock slightly. “Of no suppressants.”

“Oh,” Tony managed to choke out past the lump that had suddenly formed in his throat. “Oh.”

Everybody's got a hungry heart. by Perlmutt for ShadowsintheClouds

Summary: Tony Stark has never experienced a true heat due to the suppressants he's taking on a daily basis. Society accepts him as a beta, together with his friends and teammates and the alpha he's secretly in love with. But some things are just too big to be kept hidden forever. An unfortunate turn of events forces Tony to reveal his biggest secret to the world...

Baby, Just Say Yes by betheflame for starksnack

Summary: In a world where Tony's life looks a lot like Taylor Swift's, Steve realizes there always more to omegas than meets the eye.

Apple Pie and Sunshine by betheflame, starksnack

Summary: Even though they've loved each other for years, Steve and Tony have each convinced themselves that their one-night-stand was a fluke. Thing is, it also resulted in Tony getting pregnant and as the birth approaches, perhaps it's time to use their words.

blue since the day we parted by funkyspacegirlfriend

Summary: When he's twenty, the man Tony thinks will be his alpha and mate walks away, leaving Tony with a gift he'll never regret.

The same alpha reappears fifteen years later in the form of SI's new military liaison.

In my Favorite Dreams (I feel your heat) by Corsets_and_Cardigans for wingheads

Summary: Steve is on his morning run in DC when a ghost from his past comes back into his life. And he's not alone. *** “Steve?” Sam’s voice cut through the veil of the past, the crushing weight of memory that stole his breath. “What’s wrong, buddy?”

His staring must have finally alerted another parent, a woman eyeing him warily while tugging on Tony’s sleeve until he turned around. His eyes were just as expressive and wide as they were ten years ago, piercing the cold morning air straight to Steve’s own.

“Tony.”

“Wait. Tony Tony? The Tony? The Tony that Bucky busts your chops over Tony?”

His voice cracked, wrent into pieces at seeing his omega who wasn’t his anymore, body flaring in pain. Years worth of aching denial like a hot fireplace poker to his soul. “Yeah.”

“Okay then, who’s the kid?”

The Couch by Perlmutt

Summary: Steve overstepped a mark, when he accidentally called Tony, his mate, tiny. Because his omega was very self-conscious when it came to his height. So he needed to show him that he thought Tony's perfect just the way he was, if he didn't want to sleep on the couch for the next week. Luckily Steve was the man with a plan...

be the summer in my heart by billyscissors

Summary: After Obadiah betrays the Southern Isles, he offers Omega Prince Anthony Stark as tribute to appease the Warlord of the North

#stony #stony fics #stony fanfic #steve and tony #stevetony #stevetony fanfic #stevetony fic rec #stevetony fic #stony fic #SUPERHUSBANDS #fic rec

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dream-a-little-bigger-x · 3 years

Text

Never Enough | Owen Patrick Joyner

Request: Can you please write a piece with owen maybe a little angsty like she doesn’t think she’s good enough for him so she distanced herself from him but he catches on and reassures her 🥺

Author’s note: I absolutely sobbed writing this. I really did need a sad fic to cry it out today, so thanks for requesting this! I hope you like it :)

Pairing: Owen Joyner x reader

Warnings: Angst, anxiety, self-doubt, lots of crying

Words: 3,275

You had been feeling terrible the past few weeks. There was no reason at all to feel like this besides maybe your boyfriend, Owen, being in Vancouver filming for Julie and The Phantoms while you were still stuck in Norman, Oklahoma. But other than that, there was no reason for you to feel like this. And still, you felt like crap. It was almost as if something heavy was pressing down on your chest and you could just feel something was off. Something wasn’t right.

You had called Owen a few times, in tears, sobbing about how terribly you felt and how everything just felt wrong. He comforted you as well as he could through a phone screen and sang you to sleep almost every night. But he still felt bad for leaving you behind in Oklahoma. That’s why he decided to book you a ticket to Vancouver, so you could come stay with him and Charlie, and join them on set. He knew you could take a few days off of work or do some stuff remotely, plus he was convinced it would really make you feel better.

When the weekend finally came around, you packed your bags and hopped on a plane to Vancouver. You were finally going to see your boyfriend again after months of not seeing each other, and the thought alone made you feel a little better already.

The second you spotted the mop of blonde hair, your heart leapt as did your feet in the run up to him. Launching yourself into his arms, you felt like you could finally breathe again. And with that exhale, came the tears again.

“Why are you crying, Baby?” he mumbled into your hair as he held you as close to him as possible. You pushed yourself off him to look at his face and wipe away your tears, chuckling.

“It’s happy tears, I promise. Just… I missed you so much,” you replied. Owen’s expression turned from worried into endeared as he looked at you. He grabbed your face in his hands, his thumbs helping you wipe away the tears.

“Aw, I missed you too, Little One. Let’s get home now, shall we?” You nodded your head, and Owen’s hands dropped from your face, one trailing down to grab your hand, the other your suitcase. With hands intertwined, the two of you exited the airport and made your way to the car.

Though, there was still this gnawing feeling at the pit of your stomach, you knew it was going to get better the more time you’d spend with Owen. You pinned the anxious feeling you still had to the fact you needed more of Owen in your day after having spent so long without.

“Here you go, Little One,” he said as he pushed the door to his and Charlie’s apartment open, letting you go inside first. With Owen trailing behind you, you stepped into the place, and were immediately met with a cinnamon-y scent. You grew more and more confused and curious as you walked further into the living room, finding Charlie in the open-plan kitchen, leaning his elbows on the counter as he scrolled through his phone. A light lit up the oven, showing a tray of cinnamon rolls baking, your very favorite.

“Gorgeous, did you bake for me?” you asked, looking up at Owen. Your words made Charlie look up from his phone, a smile finding its way to his lips upon seeing you.

“We did,” he corrected you while walking towards the two of you. “Welcome to Vancouver, y/n,” he greeted and took you in for a hug as Owen shut the door and took your suitcase into the living room. “How was your flight?” He pulled away from you and made his way to Owen with you.

“Good, but can we not just glace over the fact that the two of you baked cinnamon rolls?!” You didn’t peg either of the boys to be bakers. You knew for a fact Owen wasn’t the greatest baker as the one time you baked together, he completely ruined the dough by adding egg whites to it when the eggs had to be seperated.

“Charlie is actually a pretty decent baker,” Owen said with a smile and plopped down on the sofa, patting the space beside him. You inhaled deeply, the faint scent of burning reaching your nostrils. Trying your hardest to withhold a laugh, you turned to Charlie.

“Right, that’s why they’re nearly burning in the oven,” you said sarcastically. The panicked look on Charlie’s face was the best thing you’ve ever witnessed. His eyes grew wide before he sprinted to the kitchen, cursing and panicking, and getting the cinnamon rolls out.

“They’re good! They’re good!” he shouted as he placed the tray onto the counter. “Wanna come and drizzle them with some of that white stuff?” You bit back a laugh at the innuendo before walking over to Charlie and helping him out with the royal icing.

You could already feel the anxiety was slowly washing away. All you needed was these two himbos and a couple of cinnamon rolls, and you’d feel a million times better.

The three of you spent that night, cuddled up on the sofa, eating cinnamon rolls, talking and watching a ton of movies together. It kind of felt like coming home in a way. Because Owen was your home. Even though you’d always thought it was kind of cliché when people said “home is in your arms” but you couldn’t deny that it was true. Home was in Owen’s arms with his heartbeat softly thumping against your cheek as you laid on his chest.

Owen had been your boyfriend since the seventh grade. You’d been friends before that since you lived on the same street and went to the same school. You remembered the first day of seeing him move in a few houses down in the calm cul-de-sac you lived in. Ever since that day, the calm cul-de-sac wasn’t quite as calm anymore. He’d always ask for you to come and play with him whenever he was bored -- which was a lot, and, when you got older that kindly asking to come and play, turned into calling you in the middle of the night to sneak out and go on an adventure with him.

He never really asked you out. At your thirteenth birthday party, when everyone had left and Owen was allowed to stay over, he just kind of kissed you on the lips and told you he liked you. That’s how you kind of established you were boyfriend and girlfriend, which sounded hilarious to you when you remembered it later.

When Owen went off to L.A. to pursue his acting career, you’d kind of broke up, thinking it would be easier that way, but when you turned seventeen and he came back to Norman, OK for a while, the both of you realized you were actually in love with each other. It wasn’t that cute Middle School crush anymore. And now, you were still very much in love at 19 years old. You just knew this was going to be it. This is the guy you wanted to spend the rest of your life with. Owen was peak husband material.

Owen and Charlie took you to set the next day. You had already met all of them when you came to visit him at bootcamp in the summer. Unlike what you expected, everyone remembered you and was happy to see you again.

“We should all go to dinner together tonight!” Savannah exclaimed excitedly. She was the first one you met years ago when Owen was on the Nickelodeon show Knight Squad. You immediately clicked with the bubbly personality that is Savannah Lee May. You just loved how she came bouncing up to you when you visited them on set to introduce herself. Add to that the utter beauty and kind-heartedness, and you’ve got yourself a new best friend. The two of you FaceTimed regularly and texted daily, it almost made Owen jealous.

But now that you were seeing him on set with all these amazingly talented people that became his best friends, you were getting slightly jealous. Not the ‘one of you is going to steal my boyfriend away’, but the gnawing jealousy when you realize he’s built up this entire new life outside of Norman, outside of you. Even if you weren’t here, he’d still be this happy.

You wished you could shake the anxiety over the jealous feeling in your stomach, but you were unable to. All day long, you trailed behind the group, absently laughing along whenever the others did and just watching from the sidelines as Owen interacted with all these people. Even at dinner, you couldn’t stop thinking about it.

Owen started to notice how you’d quieted down during the day, and at dinner, he leaned into you and asked, “Hey, you okay, Little One?” in your ear. Chills ran down your spine at his hot breath blowing in your hair.

“Yeah, just a little tired, is all,” you replied and offered him a half-hearted smile. It didn’t convince Owen at all, but decided not to ask any further. Your relationship had always been built up of open communication and mutual trust. So, now he had to trust you would talk to him if something was really bothering you. But how do you tell someone you hate seeing him have a life beside you. That’s just plain selfish.

The next day, you decided to stay at the apartment instead of going to work with Owen. You had a few mails to catch up on and could keep up with some work here, anyway. Though you knew you weren’t going to do much of that.

“You sure you don’t wanna come?” Owen asked once more as you were settled on the couch with your laptop in your lap, ready to pretend to work. As you looked up at him, he was pouting and had a worried expression on his face. You were certain he knew work wasn’t the only reason you wanted to stay home for the day.

“Yeah, there’s just a few things I need to do,” you lied, shooting him your most convincing smile. Charlie and Owen exchanged glances, both of them knowing you weren’t being 100% truthful. The latter sighed deeply before making his way towards you and pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Have a good day at work, Gorgeous,” you said to him with all the excitement you could muster up to sound convincing.

“Yeah, you too, Little One,” he mumbled and left the living room.

“Goodbye, y/n!” Charlie shouted with a wave while Owen ushered him out the door. A small smile fought his way to your lips at the interaction between the two. They really were the best of friends.

“Bye, Charlie!” you shouted back.

The silence fell over the apartment as well as a heavy weight on your shoulders. You felt terrible for feeling this way. You knew you should be happy for Owen that he had so many amazing friends around him and that he loved his work so much. But you couldn’t help but feel sad about it too. The more he integrated here in Vancouver with all these amazing people, the more he let go of Norman, Oklahoma. The more he let go of you.

Tears pricked in your eyes as the thoughts raced through your mind. You could keep them at bay for a while until the image of Owen laughing at something Madi had said flooded your mind and pushed the tears out. You placed your laptop on the coffee table and grabbed a pillow, hugging it close to you as sobs raked through your body. There was no good reason for you to feel this way, but you still did. You felt bad for feeling this jealous of friends of Owen, of your friends. It truly just felt like he was letting go of you and his life in Norman, and you didn’t know how to handle that. You didn’t know how to handle losing someone you’ve had in your life for such a long time.

By the time the boys came home, you had stopped crying and were half paying attention to a movie you’d found on Netflix. None of the work you actually did want to do had been done, and you’d even forgotten to eat. Which you only realized when the aromatic smell of pizza filled up the apartment.

“Hey, Gorgeous,” Owen greeted as he walked into the living room. When his eyes fell on the little ball of a mess you were, his demeanor changed entirely. He went from somewhat cheerful into full-blown concern. “Are you alright?” he asked, placing the boxes of pizza on the dining table before walking up to you. You sat up from your previously sprawled out position at once, your heart breaking as a million thoughts flew through your mind. You were upset with him for building up something incredibly for himself beside you, and even more upset at yourself because you were upset at him.

“Don’t,” you snapped curtly, holding your hand up, “Take another step because I will break.” Owen swallowed visibly as he froze in the middle of the living room. He stuttered and stumbled over words of confusion and worry. “I can’t do this anymore, Owen.” You rubbed your hands over your face before looking up at him again. The look on his face screamed confusion. He had no clue what he’d done wrong or what had happened for you to suddenly think that.

“What are you talking about, y/n?” His voice cracked as he choked back tears, breaking your heart even more. You hated yourself for feeling this way, but you just couldn’t handle it. You didn’t know how to handle it.

“You, having a life I don’t belong in…” The words came out in a whisper. You barely even dared to speak your thoughts out loud. You were very aware that this was all crazy talk, but this was the only way to save the relationship from becoming toxic.

“What do you mean, Little One? You do belong in my life, I--” He shut up when you held your hand up to make him stop before you got up from the couch and walked towards the bedroom you’d shared with him for the past two nights. The place you’d fallen asleep in, feeling so safe and happy. Now it just felt cold and daunting.

“I’ve booked a ticket back home,” you choked on fresh tears as you walked into the bedroom. Owen’s loud voice bouncing off the walls made you stop in the doorway, your heart pounding loudly in your chest as you listened but didn’t look at him.

“No! No, y/n! You don’t get to just walk away without properly explaining what I’ve done wrong!” You waited a few beats after the last words had rolled off his lips, gathering all your courage before turning around to face him. You regretted that action immediately as the first thing you saw were the hot tears rolling over Owen’s cheeks.

“Look at your life, Owen. You got all these friends and an amazing job in a completely different country and I can’t help but feel left out, like I’ll never be enough. I feel like you’ve built this entire life away from Norman, Oklahoma. Away from me. And I know -- I know I shouldn’t feel like this and I hate myself for feeling like this but I can’t…” you took a shaky breath, “I just can’t pretend I don’t feel it and I can’t pretend for the sake of our relationship -- for your sake -- that I don’t feel it. I just, I can’t, Owen…”

Owen grew completely silent at your words, his heart slowing down as it broke. He thought he had everything in life. The perfect job, the perfect friends, the perfect significant other. And now everything just seemed to crumble down right in front of him. It just all seemed so perfectly balanced out with you being friends with his friends. He was completely mistaken. He knew something was wrong when you’d distanced yourself so much the day before and why you didn’t come with them to work.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered before turning around again to grab your stuff, but once again, you were stopped. Not by his voice this time, but by his hand grabbing your wrist and forcing you to turn around.

“Please, y/n, don’t do this,” he whispered, his voice cracking ever so softly. Tears clouded your vision as you looked at him apologetically. “No, baby, no, please don’t do this. I can’t-- I can’t live without you. It’s because of you I managed to come this far with this job. It’s thanks to you I even dared to do this audition because you believed in me. I wouldn’t have even tried for Alex if it wasn’t for you encouraging me. Please, baby. Everyone in the cast and crew loves you, y/n, I promise you. Charlie told me earlier he wanted to ask you to live with us,” you looked up at Charlie, who had retreated in the kitchen, chewing on a slice of pizza as he listened with tears glistening in his eyes. “Savannah has loved you since you met when we did Knight Squad. Madi and Jadah see you as a big sister, and Jeremy just loves joking around with you,... They all love you so, so much, baby. Kenny! Kenny even asked where you were today.” Owen sniffled before taking another deep breath. “I can’t do this without you, y/n, please, don’t leave me. I love you so, so much.” The both of you dissolved into sobs as he sunk onto the floor on his knees, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his head against your stomach. He pleaded and begged, and your heart broke into a thousand pieces seeing him like this.

“Please, y/n,” you suddenly heard from the kitchen. When you looked up, you found Charlie walking closer with tears running down his cheeks. “Just stay… You belong here. With Owen, with all of us. We love you so much, we don’t want you to leave, ever.” Another sob raked through your body as fresh tears escaped your eyes. You finally let your hands fall on Owen’s head before kneeling down in front of him, your hands sliding down to his cheeks.

“I am sorry for feeling this way, Owen, I--I love you so much,” you whispered, sniffling. Owen searched your eyes for an answer. He wasn’t sure if this was goodbye or not. “I feel so stupid for feeling this way, I should’ve just told you I was doubting myself, for doubting us. I am so, so, so sorry.” A soft smile lit up his entire face as more tears rolled down.

“I love you so much, y/n. Please, don’t ever leave me,” he cried and buried his face into your neck as he hugged you tightly. You pushed him off you gently and cupped his face before pressing your lips to his in a passionate, kind of salty from the tears, kiss.

“I love you so much, Gorgeous,” you whispered and kissed him again.

For the first time in weeks, you felt okay again. Completely and utterly okay. Nothing could ever stop you from loving this man. Nothing could ever take you away from him. This was for forever. You and him. Forever.

Taglist: @hannahhistorian92 @marinettepotterandplagg @thequirkybookaholic @bookdealer5 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @hemmingsness @iainttakingshitfromnobody @ifilwtmfc @angryknightstatesmantrash @kiss-themoongoodbye @rudysbay @thedarkqueenofavalon @caitsymichelle13 @calamitykaty @wiselight @kcd15 @vicesvsvirtuesfanfic @stars-soph @kinda-really-lost

#julie and the phantoms #julie and the himbos #jatp #owen joyner #owen joyner x reader #owen joyner au #owen joyner fic #alex jatp #jatp fic #jatp au #jatp fandom #fantoms

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skellebonez · 3 years

Note

Prompt 69 with Syntax, except he's the one doing the glaring but at who, you decide!

So uh... what would have happened if MK didn’t just run in to get the sign in episode 9? What if, before grabbing it, he heard a certain voice that he recognized and went to investigate? Yeah, consider this an AU. Need a name for this one, I am accruing many now.

You see that death glare means she (he) likes you

This was... not exactly the predicament that Xiaotian expected himself to be in. At all. Not after being chased away from Spider Queen by her spider trio. He had just wanted to get Pigsy’s sign back... and he did! Eventually! 100% A+ marks on that! He just... hadn’t expected to find Macaque there as well.

Or some back with him and another... straggler.

"So... Syntax, was it?" Pigsy said roughly, earning a glower from the spider demon in turn.

They were inside Pigsy’s noodles, away from prying ears but still in their night clothes. Not that they had time to change. Not when Syntax was immediately interrogated and started explaining, and then Xiaotian had tried explaining over him, and then Macaque just. Revealed everything in one sentence. And that lead to a very tense, very uncomfortable explanation of exactly what was going on.

Xiaotian didn’t tell them Macaque was from the shadow play. Or what he did before than. Only that he was someone he knew through Sun Wukong who had tried to teach him before and wasn’t on good terms with his mentor, which wasn’t exactly a lie. And oddly, Macaque didn’t say anything either.

"Care to tell us exactly what the plan was for dealing with this "immense evil power" you were tricked into assisting at the cost of your entire clan's deaths?" Pigsy continued, brandishing his spoon he was using to make an emergency meal at him.

"Pigsy!" Tang chided with an exasperated look. "We don't know if they're dead."

"Could you maybe stop saying dead please?" Xiaotian asked quietly, curled up at a table in a corner away from the others, so quiet that the only person who seemed to have heard him was Macaque.

They wouldn’t be here having this conversation if MK hadn’t heard Macaque yelling in frustration so he supposed that was a slight victory. If Xiaotian was being honest with himself... he probably wouldn’t have told the others anything about what had happened. You can’t exactly hide a suspiciously familiar monkey and a very familiar spider when the three of you crash land on a roof together.

Going to see what was up let him free the immortal from the draining webbing he was tied up in, and had alerted Syntax to their location. If he hadn’t insisted on going back for the sign and that had not lead Syntax after them.. That would not have lead to the Spider Queen almost, almost, agreeing to work with him, and if he hadn’t grabbed the other at the Spider Queen’s insistence maybe...

“We were attempting to rebuild the mech from new years, if you must know,” Syntax answered haughtily. There was a shaking in his hands that no one pointed out, but Xiaotian could tell at least Pigsy and Macaque picked up on it from their expressions, as he did something with the gadget on his arm. Schematics, bright digital holograms, displayed in the air before them. “It would have worked, I’m positive of that! The White Bone Spirit is powerful, but not unbeatable as she is right now. Unfortunately, even if the Monkey Boy-”

“Kid, but if you’re going to call him the wrong name at least call him a man,” Tang said, a slight glower shining through his glasses.

“Monkie KID,” Syntax corrected himself tersely, returning to look at the schematics with a frown. He looked... genuinely upset as he reviewed them. “Even if he hadn’t interfered by coming for the sign my bots stole from you, we wouldn’t have had enough time or material to finish it before she found us out. It was... inevitable that something like this happen if we couldn’t convince our Queen to leave. And we couldn’t.” Syntax reached up, massaging his head as the hologram dissipated. “And we weren’t going to leave her alone. If only Huntsman had started asking questions sooner...”

At the mention of the eldest spider demon Sandy frowned, something deeply sad that Xiaotian couldn’t quite understand or parse from it. But clearly something had happened between them when he went to get the flower for his hiccups. He hadn’t hid their encounter from them, even if he didn’t tell them exactly what happened.

Syntax on the other hand went quiet, the mention of his comrade seeming to be the last thing to make him need to sit down at the counter and hold his head in his hands. “You know... he was annoying. Always trying to one up me, get the approval of our queen over me. But seeing him like that... and Goliath... they didn’t deserve that. He was good at what he did and I never got to tell him I didn’t actually hate him.”

The room went quiet after that. Xiaojiao moved to sit beside Xiaotian, wrapping her am around his shoulder. Tang stayed sat at the counter across from Syntax, watching him from the side with the barest tilt of his head. Sandy sat at a table away from the others, pulling something out his his pocket and cradling it in his hand. Pigsy continued to cook, more focused on it than he had been before.

And Macaque... Macaque stood in the middle of the room and scowled. Probably because he was so drained from the webbing that if he sat down he looked like he would pass out on the spot.

“There is... one good thing,” Xiaotian said after a moment, reaching into his jacket pocket. “Maybe? I-I was kinda distracted by the, you know. Spiders. Macaque screaming he was going to ‘send WBS to a realm even she can’t escape from when he escapes’, but I passed this room full of stuff...”

That got Syntax’s attention. “What room full of stuff?”

“It had the Trigram Furnace in it,” Xiaotian continued. “And a bunch of other stuff. Like this.” He pulled his hand back out and uncurled up on top of the table, letting his prize gently float down. Bright and golden-orange and as vibrant as the day Sandy had picked the whole thing. “I thought since Huntsman tried so hard to steal it from Sandy it might be important?”

“You stole back the Crimson Jimsonweed!?” Syntax yelled, jumping up and using his spider legs to nearly catapult himself in Xiaotian’s direction. “That... that may have been the most dangerous thing you could have done! And... and the smartest!”

“What?” Xiaotian asked deadpan, looking at the spider in confusion.

“The White Bone Spirit needs that flower petal to finish whatever she is making with the furnace!” Syntax continued, now pacing back and forth between the table, a smile slowly forming on his face. “Without it, she can’t finish it properly! She may be able to try, but there is no guarantee it would work, if she takes the chance and it does work than she will be significantly weakened by the lack of a key ingredient! She-she probably doesn’t even realize it is missing yet! YOU!” He pointed a spider leg in Sandy’s direction, making him jump in surprise. “Huntsman said you were knowledgeable of the flower’s properties, and I know there is a way to make it into a non-tea like medicine. Do you know of it?”

“Y-yes!” Sandy said after a moment of surprise. “It’s not hard to make, I could make it with what Pigsy’s got.”

“Good, make it immediately before she realizes,” Syntax continued, smirking. “She needs that petal whole and in tact. If you can break it down and make multiple small doses of medicine out of it-”

“Then she wouldn’t be able to use it because it wouldn’t be enough and what is left would be contaminated by the other ingredients!” Sandy finished, jumping up and rushing to the back of the shop. “PIGSY I’M USING YOUR SUPPLY CABINET!”

“What the hell is happening?” Pigsy asked in confusion, looking around.

“Your Monkey Man accidentally figured out the best way to mess up everything that was being planned,” Macaque said with a smirk, nodding in Xiaotian’s direction. “Gotta say, Kid, I’m impressed.”

“Wait, won’t this WBS person figure out what happened?” Xiaojiao spoke up. “She probably won’t be happy about it, she’d probably going to come after it!”

“....so we leave,” Xiaotian said, looking to everyone. “Maybe not all of us, but some of us should leave the city, stay in the forest or the desert so that if she does come back for it no one else will get hurt. Besides...” he smiled, finally, kind of sheepish. “I, uh.. think we should maybe stop squashing the city when we train. I think the neighbors are starting to get annoyed.“

“I think... that’s an excellent idea,” Pigsy said with a smile, taking his finished soup off the stove. “And you ain’t leavin me behind!”

“Or me!” Tang spoke up, turning in his chair to smile at Xiaotian as well.

“I DON’T KNOW WHAT WE’RE AGREEING TO BUT I’M IN!” Shouted Sandy from the back.

“And you know your girl is not getting left behind!” Xiaojiao laughed, pulling Xiaotian into a proper hug.

“Great, a whole gang,” Macaque said with a sigh, looking to the everyone before smirking in Xiaotian’s direction. “I know you’re not gonna let me just walk away, so I guess I’m stuck with you. But remember how I told you that you couldn't have too many teachers? That offer’s still open.”

“Tomorrow,” Xiaotian said firmly, more serious than his friends had ever probably heard him before. “We can start tomorrow. Real training, no tricks.”

The answer seemed to genuinely shock the immortal monkey, his un-glamored eyes wide in surprise. “Uh... ok. Tomorrow it is. No tricks.”

If everyone was confused by what they meant they didn’t say anything.

Syntax, moved back to the counter, tapping his hands and fingers against it in nervous energy. “I supposed I am stuck with you, after all my Queen said to go with you, and I can give you any information you need. Help with tech. That sort of thing.”

“As long as you don’t steal my dang sign again,” Pigsy scowled, depositing a bowl in front of the spider. He looked at it with suspicion, like he didn’t trust it to not be poisoned, much the way he looked at Pigsy in turn. “Or I’ll be the one squashin ya.”

“I’d like to see you try,” Syntax countered, his bright tone betrayed the severe lack of threat he felt at the other’s words. His glower though...

“Don’t worry about him,” Macaque said with a laugh, gesturing to Syntax. “You see that death glare means he likes you.”

“I DO NOT!” Syntax protested quickly and sharply, turning back and grabbing the bowl of soup and shoving a spoonful of noodles in his mouth before pausing. He said nothing, just looked down at the bowl before proceeding to devour it like a starving man who had been trapped on a desert island for weeks.

And for a moment everything seemed hopeful again.

It was the first time Xiaotian felt like this in a long time. He just didn’t expect it after revealing his secrets and with two of his enemies in the same room.

As they left to get on Sandy’s drone an hour later, full and ready to get more sleep after landing, Xiaotian couldn’t help but notice that Macaque stood father back from everyone else. Masked in shadow at times but still close enough for him to be seen. Syntax, on the other hand, seemed to have situated himself between Pigsy and Tang, talking to the scholar and the chef spiritedly about his recipes and the science of gastronomy (did this guy just know random stuff?). Which was weird, but at least they weren’t fighting.

Things felt... like maybe they could be alright.

#monkie kid #lego monkie kid #this au will be named eventually #gen fic #prompt fill #ensemble cast #i already have a lot planned for this actually #I wrote an entire outline for how the finale could still kind of go down in a slightly different way #also i have a crackship planned for this and no one can stop me

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hyunjilicious · 3 years

Text

100 ways to say ‘I love you’ Christmas Edition [bucky barnes]

Summary: it’s pretty self explanatory, I guess. (FLUFF) 1.6k

Warnings: absolutely none, just Bucky being cute, awkward and madly in love with you!!

In 2018, you were in Namibia, hunting down an American terrorist that had been on the run for the better part of the year. In 2019, the avengers were scattered around the globe, executing a 'shoot first, ask questions later' type of mission that ended long after the new year began. But this year, all of your friends were home. For the first time in years, the Stark Tower was shining from top to bottom with Christmas lights, carols echoing down all of its long, secluded hallways. It was the first time you'd get to actually spend the night of 24th of December with your true family. That is, if you made it in time. Back on December 19th, you and Bucky got stuck in the depths of Louisiana, with absolutely no means of communication, let alone transportation. You decided to make the best out of the situation and turn it into a road trip, but time flew by so much faster than expected, that it was now 2:13 pm on Christmas eve, and you and Bucky were sprinting down the snow covered empty highways of the east coast, dead set on making it home in time. He wasn't that eager to get back and tried to get you to rent a hotel room and spend the night alone, but you weren't having it. He huffed and puffed about not giving a shit about Christmas, but it was the first one he could celebrate with people that loved him, in over 70 years. With every motel that you passed, he'd turn and look at you from the passenger seat, begging you to stop. You didn't even consider it. You wanted him to have the full Christmas experience. A storm was brewing and you were whiteknuckling the steering wheel, fighting back the urge to yawn for the 3rd time in the last 10 minutes. After driving for 7 hours straight, you were close to passing out, but nowhere near ready to give up. "Pull over, love" he smiled, grabbing your thigh, "Let me drive. I'll wake you up when we arrive"

And of course Bucky refused to decorate. You spent the better half of the day rummaging through boxes and looking up diy tutorials on the Internet, doing your absolute best to make your bedroom as cozy and Christmasy as possible. Candles were scattered all over the furniture, their soft light and delicate cinnamon scent filling up the room, a small Santa Claus figurine was sitting neatly by the window, garlands dripped from every corner and your Christmas playlist was on shuffle for probably the 4th time that day. As you kept busy, lowkey exasperated whenever one ornament didn't fit in as planned, Bucky laid on the bed, making nasty comments with every chance he got. He complained about the music, said the room was too hot, that the candles made his nose feel funny and not for a second did he stop begging you to drop the fucking decorating and join him in bed. You didn't wanna hear it. You kept going, bringing in box after box of ornaments, each one making Bucky more and more frustrated.

"Buck!" you whined, turning around in your hands a little remote controlled reindeer. "His leg is stuck... he keeps falling"

"Throw it into the trash" he scoffed, plopping down on his back and hiding his face in the crook of his elbow.

Of course you didn't listen to him. "No..." you mumbled, more to yourself. You sounded like a child, but you didn't care. Instead, you just sat down on the edge of the bed, all your attention focused on the broken toy in your hands, "I'll fix it somehow"

"Just throw the goddamned thing away, Y/n" he groaned, "Only on my nightstand there are other 3. We got enough"

You just shook your head, focused on getting the reindeer to walk again. It was no use. You got no utensils and your nails were threatening to break as you kept trying to open up his battery container. 5 minutes of painful silence followed, ending with you finally giving up, "I'll just put something under his leg and use it as a decoration" you whimpered, legitimately heartbroken over the toy.

"Fuck, just come here. Give it to me. I'll fix the damn thing for you"

Your heart swelled up, "Really?"

"Yeah..." Bucky sighed, grabbing a screwdriver out of his nightstand and picking up the toy. "Master assassin and I'm fixing toys" he mumbled under his breath and you couldn't help but wrap your arms around him and kiss his cheek.

Your version of paradise started just when you arrived at the tower on Christmas Eve. Bucky did as promised and then offered you a weak smile, full of warmth as he helped you out of the car when he parked in front of the Tower. You were beaming with excitement for the days that were to come. When the next morning arrived, you were sipping your coffee on the balcony, waiting for everyone to wake up so that you could all start unwrapping the presents. When the door opened you didn't expect Bucky to come out, as he never - ever, failed to sleep until noon, if given the chance. But there he was, wrapped in one of your comfy blankets, padding over to you with a coffee mug in his hand. When he reached you, he opened his arms and welcomed you against his chest, closing his hold around your body and engulfing you in the warmth of the blanket. It didn't take long until you noticed the little paper bag lodged under the elastic of his sweats, and when you asked about it, he cursed himself for ruining the surprise. He handed you the bag, and urged you to open it, insisting that it wasn't your present. When you did, your eyes landed on a knitted bunny clutching a heart to its chest. "An old lady was selling these a few weeks ago at a boutique I saw while waiting for you to meet me. I know you love to call me Bucky Bunny because you know how much I hate it. I forgot about it and came across it this morning at the bottom of my bag while searching for my charger. Now I think its stupid, a dumb rabbit and his eyes are a little bit fucked up, but he's cute and it reminded me of you, so here you go"

As much love as some of you had for the holiday, it still wasn't enough to convince the whole group to actually watch a Christmas movie. So, in true avenger spirit, you all decided to watch Terminator. After finishing dinner, you all scattered around the Tower. Some people left to change in more comfortable clothes, some helped clean up the kitchen, and some, like Bucky and Thor, remained in the living room, plopped in the middle of the couch, fangirling over Arnold Schwarzenegger's acting and the great sense of humour of the 90s. Eventually everyone gathered around them, you and Wanda being the last ones to show up. She cuddled against Vision's side, but Bucky was lodged in between Thor and Steve, and there was no way you'd ever ask any of them to move. Seeing you eye an open spot, Bucky waved you over as he stood up. "Here, take my seat". You wanted to object but he didn't want to hear it. Eventually, you sat down, and so did he, on the floor, right in front of you. Nonchalantly, Bucky pulled your legs apart and settled between them, with his back against the couch. He gathered your Christmas themed sock clad feet into his lap and rested his head against your knee as the movie began.

And like any other Christmas dinner, of course yours wasn't an exception. Natasha's recipe for apple pie was by definition the best that ever blessed the earth and none of the attendees was any stranger to that. Considering how many of you there were, as you made a point of spending the end of the year together, 2 batches had to be made. It was hectic, everyone fuzzing around the Tower, preparations on tow the whole day. And of course there would be repercussions for the chaotic atmosphere, but you'd only find out about them later. After burning through the first meal courses of the evening, it was finally time for her sweet delicacy to grace the table. Natasha neatly placed the two pies on either end of the table, proudly announcing you could all dig in. Bucky was seated to your right, and he unlike you, managed to grab a piece of pie from the first batch. You didn't think too much of it, until you started eating yours, only to realise the bottom was burned. Despite all of you trying to assure Natasha that it was not her fault and that she shouldn't beat herself up about it, she promised she'd make another one tomorrow. The night carried on as planned, but no matter how much you tried to push away the thought, you couldn't help but feel bitter about missing out on the good pie. Just when you were about to come to your senses and realise what a dumb reason for you to get upset that was, Bucky sent you text, asking you to come to the bedroom. Curious as to what this could have been about, you hurried upstairs and burst into the room, nearly crashing into Bucky's chest. He slammed the door behind you and handed you his plate - his slice of pie only halfway eaten. "I saved you a piece. These are jackals, I had to hide it. Dig in before anyone comes!"

On December 27th the buzz was starting to die down. When you put up the lights in your bedroom, Bucky said they could stay on for two days and two days only, and you reluctantly agreed to make a compromise. Just this time. The time to turn them off came last night, and since he offered to let them on until the morning, you felt like an unreasonable little shit if you were to ask him to turn them on again. It was about 7pm and you were two seasons deep in The X Files, and Wanda asked for your help. Bucky pulled out his phone and assured you he wouldn't watch ahead until you got back. It took you about 30 to help your friend with her problem, and when you returned to your room, confusion washed over you. The Christmas lights were on and Bucky was nowhere to be seen. "Fuck" he grunted.

You turned around to see him behind you, standing in the doorway, two cocoa mugs in his hands, "I made these cause I know you like them. And I wanted to surprise you with the lights but vision is a dumbass and forgot to text me and tell me when you were almost done"

"So she didn't actually need help folding the bed sheets?" you laughed, endeared by his antics.

"Of course she didn't" Bucky shook his head, handing you one of the mugs, "She's not an imbecile"

"Oh my god" you giggled in disbelief as you sat down on the bed.

"I'll squirt shit nuggets out of my ass for two days, so please tell me at least I got the recipe right"

He was so adorable, anxiously waiting for you to taste the cocoa he just made. "It's so good!" you rolled your eyes in pleasure, taking another sip, "Thank you, you're too sweet, Buck"

"Yeah, I know-" he chuckled, grabbing the mug from your palm and placing it on the nightstand. "I got one more present for you. Close your eyes and hold out your hands"

"No, Buck-" you whined, "I didn't get you anything else-"

He dismissed your words in an instant and kissed your lips, before guiding your hands up. You opened them up and closed your eyes, curious about what he could have gotten you. First, you heard him shuffle around the bed, and then you felt something rather itchy touch your palms. You nearly burst into laughter when you realised it was his chin.

"Ok, open your eyes"

And as you did so, your eyes landed on Bucky's face, as he had placed his head on your hands. He was wearing a tiara with reindeer ears, and you couldn't help but laugh out loud.

"You're my present?" you beamed, throwing yourself against his chest.

"My face is the present-" he corrected you. "Guess what it does. Take your leggings off and you'll find out"

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes imagine #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan #bucky barnes fluff #sebastian stan fluff

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aangs-surrounding-love · 3 years

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My take on Aang’s trauma:

Alrighty everyone this is going to be a long one. I’ll do my best to only include the more important parts of Aang’s actions that I think reflect his trauma. Also, moments that I think reflect his trauma. Actually, I don’t really know if I can directly categorize this post but let’s just say this is very Aang-centric and somewhat of Aang-defense. Aang-protection? Feh-I’ll start.

In season 1 episode 1: The Boy In The Iceberg we see that Aang is briefly told that no one has seen an airbender in 100 years. We can see a tiny bit of shock but what happens next is that the topic is dissed and they move on. Aang doesn’t yet know what happened. But that small little face of shock and confusion always gets me.

Season 1 Episode 2: When Aang finds out he was stuck for 100 years, a war broke out, and his people were very likely killed, he looks on the bright side and looks to Katara saying, “I did get to meet you.”

When they find out he’s the avatar everyone is like, no wayyyy. He still offers himself up to protect the tribe.

Why didn’t he tell them? “Because I never wanted to be” is 100% a valid answer. He was scared. He thought that they’d push him away as his friends did at the temple. Or maybe send him away like the leaders wanted to do to him. (Although Sokka did banish Aang, it wasn’t because of his title and because he put the tribe at risk so it doesn’t exactly count)

Season 1 episode 3: The Southern Airtemple. “We’re home, buddy. We’re home.” Aang says to Appa. Something about this seems like a nostalgic moment. He left on bad terms and now he’s back seeing it 100 years later, hopeful.

He looks for all the old things that made him happy. Air ball, Gyatso’s statue, searching for people. (The little fruit pie flash-back)

He goes to the statue room and looks for answers. He meets Momo. However, when Aang and Sokka start chasing Momo I see Aang tearing up when he’s jumping down the cliffside. My take on this isn’t because he’s falling down at such a velocity that he starts crying, my take is that it’s because it’s his first chance to reveal that there’s hope that some of the Air Nation survived and that Aang isn’t alone.

Aang discovers Gyatso’s skeleton and goes into the Avatar State. His major hopes have been diminished.

He says to Momo, “You, me, and Appa, we’re that’s left of this place now. We have to stick together.” It’s so sad. They’re the only parts of the Air Nation that are alive. They don’t have anything left of the air nation and that’s why they need each other; they need to stay together.

At the closing of the episode, we see Aang and Momo flying away from the temple on Appa. Aang's face is so somber like he’s watching his happy memories diminish. Like the nostalgia being wiped away directly in front of him.

Season 1 Episode 5: The King of Omashu. This one is more of fine detail, but to me, it’s still very important and needs to be mentioned more. At the end of the episode, when Aang figures out it was Bumi, his old friend, you can see little tears welling in his eyelids. My understanding makes me think that Aang was tearing up because he sees someone who isn’t dead. The tears are of relief because to Aang, maybe not everyone is gone. His childhood isn’t over, Aang can still be a kid. Because the reason Gyatso was protecting Aang was that he wanted Aang to have a childhood. Although it was stripped away, this gave Aang another chance to have fun intentionally. Another sign that his childhood isn’t completely over.

Season 1 episodes 7-8: Winter Solstice Part 1: The Spirit World and Winter Solstice Part 2: Avatar Roku. In the first part, we meet a village. Aang tries to help them by saying, “I have to try” my legendary overthinking and analysis makes me believe that Aang truly wants to help these people already, but also that as the Avatar he wants to make up for the lost time he was stuck. He feels the burden he afflicted on the world.

His ability to relate to Hei Bai. Aang felt terrible about the woods and trees that were burnt down. It’s the empathy the made Hei Bai Aang’s friend. The compassion that Aang brings is truly amazing.

Part 2: Avatar Roku. Okay, so he wants to go alone because he doesn’t want Katara or Sokka to get hurt. My take on this is not only are they friends, but he also doesn’t want another one of his actions affecting the casualties of the war.

Season 1 Episode 12: The Storm. This episode is great. We get his backstory. We see why he ran away. We see what causes him to get stuck. And we get to see him upset. We see his guilt. “My people needed me, and I wasn’t there to help.” Followed by, “the WORLD needed me, and I wasn’t there to help.”

“How could they do that to me? They wanted to take away everything I knew and everyone I’ve ever loved!” This quote digs deep. Not only is Aang angry, but this takes a play on how he reacts to people and how he responds to people. He wanted to be a normal kid. (I’ll bring this back later)

Earlier in this episode, there’s this fisherman who was blaming him, so I’m in the cave Aang says, “the fisherman was right. I DID turn my back on the world.” He knows what he did was wrong and he saw the consequences. He ran away, and now that he faced the consequences, he actively wants to change and become better. He’s learning from his actions.

Season 1 episode 13: The Blue Spirt. Admiral Zhao says to Aang, “tell me, how does it feel to be the only airbender left? Do you miss your people?” Not only is this said in such a vile, evil way, we see Aang’s face which changes from being angry and upset with Adm. Zhao, we see that it changes to ashamed and guilt ridden. Actually, it kinda looks like Aang wanted to talk back to him, but he needed a moment. He needed that moment to take in what Zhao said.

Aang finds out that the Blue Spirit (the person wearing the mask) is Zuko. Aang was going to leave him there, to get caught by Admiral Zhao, but Aang instead takes him to safety. And may I mention that Aang made him a little leaf bed? Anyway, he stays with Zuko until he wakes up. Aang was talking about they could be friends and that one of his best friends was from the Fire Nation. I think not leaving Zuko behind shows both how Aang does his best to no longer leave people behind and to try to bring the best out of Zuko.

Season 1 episode 15: Bato of the Water Tribe. Aang takes the map to guide them to Hakoda for himself out of fear that Sokka and Katara would leave him. Though it was a bad decision, the thing is he didn’t think he could handle being alone. He was alone enough as it is. His people were gone and his friends (excluding Bumi) were gone or dead as well. So having to trek to the NWT alone would be a continuous reflection of his actions and would likely send him down on a more hateful path.

Season 1 Episode 16: The Deserter. Aang wants to learn the elements as fast as possible, even if it means doing it irregularly. He also is unsure whether he’ll ever get the chance to learn firebending again after he learns the other elements. So he starts to learn firebending from Jeong Jeong. He wants to make up for lost time which is another reason for this decision.

He hurts Katara and becomes afraid of handling fire and vows to be more careful with it in the future. (I will bring this up again later)

Season 1 Episode 17: The Northern Air temple. Aang sees that the northern Air temple became inhabited by people and they built pipes and other things that ruined the temple. They destroyed the temple and there wasn’t anything left that remained the same. When he saw the wrecking ball machine, he rightfully knocked it away for “destroying something sacred”. It was the last place that remained unaffected by modernization and industrialization then it was knocked over, right in front of him. So my take on this is a question within itself: if you loved something that was deeply close to you like a relic, something important, something that’s the only thing left of your family, got destroyed right in front of you, how would you feel? The answer would probably be pretty freaking upset.

Season 1 episode 19: The Siege of the North: part 1. Starting with part 1, the fire nation comes to the northern water tribe and the fight begins. Before the fight begins, Aang says, “I wasn’t there when the Fire Nation attacked my people. I’m going to make a difference this time.” He wants what’s best for the world, he’s going to stay. He isn’t going to run this time, he’s going to fight of the sake for the world, for the sake of the future. Still, the look on his face when he says that, it’s guilt plastered all over. The guilt is also shown with a determination to make his difference.

Aang flies out on Appa to try to prevent further damage by taking out a few ships. He returns around sunset, exhausted and somewhat defeated. He says, “I’m just one kid” then buries his face in between his legs. He’s right, he is one kid. The avatar, yes, a kid, yes. I have a feeling he’d be thinking about how massively overwhelmed his people were when the Fire Nation attacked. With the power of 500 suns, it would be disastrous. And with this, there are hundreds of ships in that fleet with hundreds more men, ready to fight.

Season 1 episode 20: The Siege of the North: Part 2. Aang returns to the spirit oasis and enters the avatar state saying, “No... It’s not over” he won’t give up on the tribe. He won’t let the Fire Nation win. Still, he isn’t running away, he chose to return to the Spirit Oasis to try to save the spirits.

Season 2 episode 1: The Avatar State. Aang’s told by General Fung that he could defeat the Fire Nation using the Avatar State. Gen. Fung manipulates Aang using Aang’s own guilt and faults to get him to try to train to turn the Avatar State on. Gen. Fung shows Aang the wounded to get him to join.

Initially, Aang doesn’t join. But he changes his mind upon further debate. During the training (well after a day of training) Katara and Aang have a long conversation about it. First, Katara tries to convince him to stop training to turn the Avatar State on but Aang refuses. Katara says, “I don’t understand.” Aang replied, “No, you don’t. Every day, more and more people die. I’m already 100 years late.” Aang’s own guilt is driving him to pursue helping everyone. Even though it wasn’t the right decision, he realizes that he needs to try everything he can to save the world.

Season 2 Episode 3: Return to Omashu. I already did my take away on Aang’s trauma for “The King of Omashu” but this will make my point stronger. Anyway, to the point. Aang goes to Bumi to learn earthbending. His old friend, the mad genius. When he arrives at Omashu, Katara, Sokka, and Aang see that Omashu was conquered by the Fire Nation. Despite Sokka trying to convince Aang to turn around, saying that there are other teachers, Aang shuts both of them down. He wants to rescue Bumi. Not only because he’s his best friend, but I think it’s the added reasons of impending guilt that he receives from leaving the Air Nation to fight on their own, and always wanting to protect his friends.

Season 2 episode 10: The Library. By goodness. Beginning of the episode. Aang is “making an orchestra”. My little headcanon is that all airbenders play an instrument and Aang chose the flute. Anyway, in this headcanon, the air nomads had a band that Aang loved to participate in. Just a little reminder he can’t be in a band surrounded by his people and wanted to make an orchestra on his own to feel happy like he would if he was around the Air Nomads.

Professor Zei calling Aang a relic. Just... terrible. That’s what he, his people, his culture surmounted to. Only a relic. An episode in time.

“We had no choice. Please. We’re desperate to protect the people we love.” This is what Aang says to Wan Shi Tong after the spirit’s anger about using the library to win a war. Aang is trying to protect the world and whoever he has left in the world. His people died. His friends before the war excluding Bumi are dead. Now all he has are his current friends, Appa, and Momo. That’s all he has left and he’s going to do anything to protect them.

Appa gets taken away. That’s it. They exit the sinking library. “Where’s Appa?” Aang asks Toph in confusion. As Toph shakes her head, humming, “mmm-mmm” Aang’s face looks so scared, so hurt. This is his best friend, his life partner to the death. His closest friend, even before the war. They have an inseparable bond and then Appa’s taken away from Aang. Aang doesn’t know if he’s alright, one of the three surviving members of the Air Nomads.

Season 2 Episode 11: The Desert. Aang is so hurt that he lashes out at Toph. His best friend and life partner were stripped from him. I could feel the pain and anger in his voice.

“I’m going to find Appa.” Aang flies away to search on his glider. Again, one of the last surviving members of the Air Nomads is gone. I will elaborate in others.

“APPA!” He calls out. He begins to tear up but sucks it down. “No... No!!!” He creates the gush of air at the ground, making the sand rise up. The complete anger is apparent.

“I’m sorry, OK? it’s a desert cloud. I did all I could.” Aang is left angry and lashes out at everyone. Aang blames Toph at first but it goes deeper than that. If Aang hadn’t gone inside, Appa could’ve been with him. Everyone could’ve gotten out of the desert.

Momo gets carried by a Buzzard-wasp. “I’m not losing anyone else out here.” If Momo was taken away that makes Aang the only one left. He’d be completely alone. And he would only have himself to blame. If he hadn’t run away... if he hadn’t gone inside the library... if he hadn’t chased and knocked the buzzard wasp down. But luckily, Aang gets Momo back.

Aang finds out that the sand benders he encountered were the ones who stole Appa. He acts appropriately and questions them. He wrecks a sand sailer. He wants his bison back. He needs Appa back.

“You muzzled Appa?!” He enters the avatar state in rage. Appa was much more than a pet. Appa is Aang’s best friend. His life partner. His link to his people. Hearing that Appa was treated like an uncontrollable, rabid animal isn’t alright with him. His people were already killed. So hearing that Appa could be in the same situation or worse hurts.

“I traded him with some merchants.” Trading him. Like property. Appa is living, breathing, he isn’t property. Then Appa was set to be sold. Sold.

Season 2, Episode 12: The Serpents Pass. Aang is trying to remain emotionless after Appa was taken away. He doesn’t want to grieve. He doesn’t want to feel. He wants the war to end and be done. He wants Appa back of course, but I think Aang feels that his emotions are going to prevent progress. So when Suki mentions how Appa wasn’t there, Aang was the first to look away. It hurts him immensely.

“Are you doing okay?” Suki asks Aang. At first, Aang looks to Suki and then to Katara, Sokka, and Toph. The view switches back to Aang where he says harshly, “I’m doing fine. Would everybody stop worrying about me?” Aang doesn’t want to be reminded further that -in his mind- that he failed.

“And now it’s like you don’t care about him at all,” Katara states. Katara continues about how worried she is for Aang and offers him a hug. He steadily rejects, “thanks for your concern, Katara.” He walks away. He is so hurt that he doesn’t want to feel. He doesn’t want to be human.

“But you’ve made me feel hopeful again.” It doesn’t mean he’ll stop himself from blaming himself, but it means Aang will return to being hopeful and optimistic.

Season 2 episode 13: The Drill. It’s towards the end where Aang gives the final blow, it’s not really about the moment but the music. Aang is determined to save the world. Even though he’s going through in an incredibly tough time, he’s not going to give up and he’s going to save Ba Sing Se. The music displays this perfectly also while the French Horns add Aang’s musical theme in the background.

Season two, episode 15. The tales of Ba Sing Se. Aang creates a Zoo after seeing all the caged up animals. I think that Aang did this because it reminded Aang what predicament Appa could be in. All chained up. Of course, above anything else, Aang goes to the Zoo in the first place to look for Appa. But I think Aang wanted to release the animals into a better space because Aang wanted to help them, knowing at least Appa would want a sense of freedom. Also because Aang could see that the animals were unhappy.

Season 2 episode 16: Appa’s Lost Days. Sorry but Aang sleeps with the bison whistle right next to him. Meaning, the first thing he wakes up to is the whistle. So right away, Aang is reminded that he needs to get Appa back no matter what.

Season 2 Episode 17: Lake Logoai. Weakly, Jet says, “I’m sorry, Aang.” Aang replies, “Don’t be.” Aang is already worried. But after it's inferred that Aang was going to die by Toph’s, “He’s lying,” is another reminder to Aang that having relations to other people puts them in danger. And that Aang might think that he is another cause for Jet’s death. It’s a big rolel, accounting for every death and injury at Aang’s stake.

Reuniting was Appa, finally. The tears, the relief. Appa will forever be his best friend. To death. A weight was definitely released from his chest.

Season 2 episode 18: The Earth King. Aang wants to tell the Earth King the truth. With Appa back, it’s hoped that things could turn out well for Aang. And a chance the war could end sooner. For the fatalities to stop.

Season 2 episode 19: The guru. “What do you blame yourself for?” Aang responds, “I ran away. I hurt all those people.” He holds himself accountable that he wasn’t there. That he was the cause of injury. Even though he forgave himself doesn’t mean he thinks about it. That’s the thing about guilt. It reoccurs no matter if you try to bury it. Or even forgive yourself, it still shows up.

“Lay all your grief out in front of you.” Aang pictures the whole Air Nation with Gyatso in the front. He’s trying to save the word to not leave their names, their culture in vain. He lost everyone.

Season 2 episode 20: the Crossroads of Destiny. He had to let her go. There were too many people against him. He had no other choice than to let go and enter the avatar state. He had to give up another part of himself to be what the world needed. He needed to save Katara, not letting any others fall to his fault.

Season 3 Episode 1: The Awakening. “Everyone thinks you’re dead. Isn’t that great?!” To Aang, it isn’t. In fact, that’s probably the worst thing Sokka could’ve said. To Aang, the world thinks he failed... again. At first, he vanished for 100 years, thought dead. Then he returned to become dead again. Now, the Fire Nation has practically won because he wasn’t able to keep Ba Sing Se afloat.

Aang wants to intervene even though he’s barely able to walk. He wants to handle it himself. He’s holding himself accountable. Maybe even thinking, it’s the least I can do if I’ve already failed to the world twice. He keeps trying to help, having Sokka hold him back.

“I don’t want you or anyone else risking your lives for my mistakes.” This means Aang really blames himself for everyone. Holding everything on his shoulders. Thinking, “it’s all my fault.”

Aang does the thing he knows how to, he flies away on his glider. Hurt and bombarded with a storm. When he’s found by his friends, he finds his glider which we knew was very important to him. Air Nomads weren’t very material, but to a person with a smidge of their culture left, it would’ve meant much more. So, seeing it in shambles and them actively choosing to burn it is heartbreaking.

Season 3 episode 2: The Headband. The fact that the children of the Fire Nation and everyone who was taught after the war started thought the Air Nomads had a military, forcing the Fire Nation to attack them. It’s screwy. It was wrong, but knowing that his culture was thought of as evil and bloodthirsty had to have been off-putting. I mean, the Air Nomads were pacifist!

Aang was stripped of his childhood, so going to a school gave him a new chance without the burden of being the avatar. For example, earlier I mentioned Aang was excluded from playing with the air-scooter, but in the Fire Nation school, Aang as Kuzon was invited to play Hide and Explode. A chance to have fun without his responsibility to defeat the Fire Lord. A chance to be a normal kid.

“You taught them to be free” Aang did his best to help the kids. It wasn’t defeating the Fire Lord but it gave them control. A mind. They were brainwashed by the school and their country! So achieving a sense of freedom by self expression is something more than I can display in words.

Season 3 Episode 9: Nightmares and Daydreams. Although it’s a fun episode, Aang is in his last moments to train before the invasion. He has to be ready. He’s afraid that he’ll let the world down a third time. So, he creates false scenarios and plays them out to prepare. In this process, he gets really sleep deprived because of his stress. He’s rightfully worried. The state of the world continues to burden him.

Season 3 episode 10: The Day Of Black Sun, Part 1: The Invasion. Aang comes to Sokka’s side when Sokka begins to worry about his moment of truth. Aang says, “I already failed to world once at Ba Sing Se. I won’t let myself fail again.” Again, it’s all up to him. He needs to save the world, he needs to redeem himself.

Season 3 episode 11: The Day Of Black Sun, Part 2: The Eclipse. Aang finds that it was all a trap. He failed again. On Appa as the youngest of the group loads on Appa, Aang is crying. He told himself that he wouldn’t fail. That he needed to win. He needed this victory to find out that his plan was ruined.

Season 3 Episode 12: The Western Air Temple. Aang accepts Zuko into the group. He does this not only because he needs a teacher but realizes that in his past attempt to learn Firebending, he hurt Katara. And that Jeong Jeong wasn’t the right master, but knowing that Zuko changed made Aang accept Zuko into the group and teach him.

Season 3 Episode 13: The Firebending Masters. Earlier, I mentioned that Aang vowed to be more careful with Fire after burning Katara. Showing why his flame was timid and weak. He was afraid for it to become out of control and hurt someone.

Season 3, episode 16: The Southern Raiders. “You’re feeling unbelievable pain and rage.” He’s empathizing with Katara. We can’t forget that Aang is a survivor of genocide. He’s been through so much and wants to help Katara make the right decision. Not making it for her, but guiding her through the decision that would make her satisfied with herself and Yon Rha’s outcome. One she could live with. He’s using his own experience to help her.

Season 3, Episode 18, Sozin’s Comet, Part 1: The Phoenix King. Aang wants to find an alternate solution rather than kill Firelord Ozai. He wants to stick to his principles. The ones that have been with him since forever. It’s not an easy decision. Maybe not only because of honoring the monks and their teaching but because the war had already created enough bloodshed.

Everyone is quick to assume Aang ran away. Although Aang is called to the Lion Turtles back. I think it was mostly unknowingly because he was like half asleep.

Season 3, Episode 19, Sozin’s Comet, Part 2: Old Masters. Aang looks to the past Avatars for their guidance. They’re the ones who might give him an alternate solution. In my opinion, they were all like, make whatever choice is right for you and the world. Don’t forget the world. Ultimately, to Aang, there were no other options, leaving him with the only option but to take Ozai’s life.

He meets the great look turtle. Aang respectfully asks him for an answer or an option. Once again, Aang was given the knowledge that he could take away whatever he received from the wisdom.

Season 3, Episode 20: Sozin’s Comet: Part 3: Into The Inferno. Ozai degrades Aang. Says, “you’re weak. Just like the rest of your people. They did not deserve to exist in this world, in my world! Prepare to join them.” So Aang has been told he’s weak and he is in no way weak. I will elaborate later.

Season 3, Episode 21: Sozin’s Comet, Part 4: Avatar Aang. Aang unblocks the avatar state and pins Ozai down. Just as Aang was going to kill him, he stops. He stops himself from going against his principles. Ozai continues to degrade him. “You are still weak.” Aang directs Ozai’s fire blast away using the Lion Turtle’s wisdom, Aang pins Ozai down and energy bends. With this, Aang discovers this non-fatal solution by giving Ozai justice and taking his bending away. Ozai can no longer intimidate and oppress anyone anymore.

“Please the real hero is the avatar.” That’s it. Aang is the hero. Of course, he had his friends to help him, but every single one of Aang’s mistakes and choices led to this. Led to the world being saved. So, for the first time in a while, Aang can come out of hiding, proud to be in this Air Nomad robes without concealing his identity.

I think I’m exaggerating about the tiniest details, but then again, I’m putting myself in Aang’s shoes, and that’s how I’d feel and how I interpret Aang’s actions/reactions. Also, I know I missed a few points, but I tried.

Big takeaways:

When Aang is told his people have been wiped out AND that he’s been gone for 100 years, for him, it has only been a few days for him. He left and a day later he wakes up and it’s been 100 years. That’s incredibly off-putting and scary. One day and his whole world shifted.

Aang was given very VERY little time to grieve as he had to save the world and learn the elements right away. When we do see it, his grief, he tries to let it all out at once rather than have it seep out little by little.

Aang is 12! He is a child and he saved the world. He has real emotions and was confused from time to time. He was a little immature at first but developed immensely.

Aang makes mistakes. But most importantly is that he learns from them and uses them to decide what's best for him and how to help others.

He looked for the light in dark situations.

Aang is the beacon of hope but even he was unhopeful and detached. He went to nightmares and back despite the worst.

Despite Ozai’s bashing and false claims, Aang is not weak and never has been. Aang went through the worst. He lost his family, his friends, and at one point, his best friend. He died. He was given an almost impossible task. Yet, he completed this task. He saved the world. Yes, he made mistakes but those mistakes shaped Aang into who he became. And how he was able to save the world. And Ozai was incredibly wrong. Aang defeated him and found his alternative. It wasn’t weak. It was strength. As Katara said in The Southern Raiders, “I don’t know if I was too weak to do it or if it’s because I’m strong enough not to.” In Aang’s case, he found his alternative that honored his teachings, his principles, his beliefs all while doing what was best for the world. That isn’t weak. It’s strong. Adding on, to come back from death isn’t weak. To return to action after running away isn’t weak. To face danger? To help others? To fight on the losing side for what is right? No, it’s not weak at all.

The music is fantastic and I think it reflects Aang amazingly. This doesn’t really fit into what I was talking about but the music fits the show.

Aang deserves so much love. I'll say it again, he's been through so much. Much more than what I could handle or almost anyone else. He is a traumatized child but even through the rough patches became an inspiration. To me, I think he’s sometimes overlooked and pushed aside so this is just some of my headcanons and takeaways.

Another thing, I’m not blaming Aang for anything. When I mention “it was his fault” I mean by he was blaming himself. The Air Nation’s genocide is not his fault. I mean that he blames himself for not helping or staying, for running away.

Lastly, I don't own Avatar: The Last Airbender or any of their characters. They belong to their rightful creators and writers. Also, this is my analysis and a few of my takes on Aang’s trauma. I'm not trying to project my feelings on anyone. I'm just saying what I think.

If you made it this far thanks for reading my post!

#aang #aanglove #avatar aang #avatar verse #avatar #avatar the last airbender #avatar: tla #personal note that no one cares for but i’m saying it anyway #personal #my thoughts #aang is a sweetie and i will not stand for anything else #aang defense #aang defense squad #alta aang #aang is best boy #aang stan #aang protection #melon's analysis

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