#but she fails even more miserable-r than the rest

[saipng]

season 4 roy kids be like: what’s that? waystar is being bought by matsson? that can only mean one thing - we have to put on the BEST talent show royco has ever seen and raise enough money to buy it back!

#succession #jk they’d never bother putting in any actual work to achieve anything #but i wanna see it (in a high school au or smthing) #kendall would rap obviously #roman wouldn’t be able to decide on a number cuz he thinks he’s great at everything #so he just goes on stage to lift a bunch of weights and fails miserably #tom would recite poetry that he wrote for shiv but it accidentally turns out to be entirely about greg #greg would try to juggle in his fursuit and fuck up #shiv doesn’t want to do it until the end where she sees how horribly it’s all going #so she gets drunk and goes on stage to save them all by doing a dance number #but she fails even more miserable-r than the rest #the total raised is -$30 (roman had to pay for damaging the stage)

[togrowoldinv]

Drill Lessons

Natasha Romanoff x Female Reader

Natasha shows you how to use a power tool and your mutual crush comes to light

Warnings: Smut! 18+ please! Kissing, cursing, oral (N and R receiving)

Natasha Masterlist 1, Natasha Masterlist 2, Natasha Masterlist 3, Main Masterlist

To you, Natasha Romanoff is the most beautiful woman to ever walk the earth.

You’ve been wanting to tell her for months that you like her. Ever since you joined the team you’ve had feelings for her. But you can’t get a read on her.

You have no idea if she has feelings for you too. Sometimes it feels like she’s flirting with you but then you see or hear her act the same way with one of the guys and you brush it off as nothing.

This weekend Clint invited everyone to his farm to enjoy a quick getaway and clear your heads. Missions hadn’t been easy lately, so you all needed the reprieve.

When you arrive, Natasha walks in the house first. She’s clearly very comfortable here.

“Welcome!” Laura says to everyone. “Come on in. Make yourselves at home!”

“Thank you for having us, Mrs. Barton,” you say when you greet her.

“Oh please, called me Laura,” she says. Then she addresses everyone, “We don’t have enough rooms so you’ll have to share. Nat, can y/n sleep with you?”

You try not to have a visceral reaction to the idea. You hold your breath as you await her reply.

“Sure,” Nat simply says. She turns to you, “I’ll show you the way.”

You follow her up the stairs where you run across a couple of kids.

“Auntie Nat?” A girl asks, in shock of seeing Nat.

“Hey malyshka,” Natasha replies. She brings the girl in for a hug. “Lila, this is y/n. Hopefully you won’t discover you like her more than you like me.”

You smile and wave to Lila. She returns the smile before running off downstairs.

Nat takes you down the hallway and to what appears to be her bedroom when she stays here. There are photos of the Barton family and Nat on the dresser. You admire how happy she looks here.

“I always sleep on the door side, but we’ll do whatever you feel comfortable with,” Nat says.

“Oh, either side works for me.”

Nat nods. You set your bag down on the bed and unpack a few things. Natasha moves around the room, gathering a few of her own things.

You both go back downstairs for the rest of the evening. Nothing too eventful happens. Everyone makes plans to spend time outside tomorrow.

Natasha is first to the bedroom. She slips into the bed casually. You try to do the same but fail miserably at not looking nervous.

“I don’t bite, you know,” Nat says teasingly.

“Right,” you respond too quickly. “I just- sorry.”

“Relax, y/n,” she says. You settle on your side of the bed. “Goodnight.”

“Night, Natasha.”

You both drift off into a peaceful sleep. You first, and then Natasha.

At some point during the night, you end up snuggling close to Natasha. She wakes up to the feeling of your arm draping over her. But she doesn’t mind it. Actually, she likes it.

When you wake up in the morning, you find yourself still nestled in her arms.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you say, trying to move off of her.

“Hey, it’s fine,” Nat says, only tightening her grip a bit before letting you loose. “So, you’re a cuddler, huh?”

You look away shyly and Nat just smirks. Now you definitely can’t believe you slept next to Natasha and accidentally snuggled with her all night. She doesn’t say anything else about it until you go downstairs for the day.

“Good morning!” Laura greets. She’s pulling fresh biscuits from the oven. “How did you sleep?”

“Good,” you answer briefly.

“She sure was cozy,” Nat interjects. It’s just Laura in the room with you two, but you still try to hold back a blush.

“Mhm, I’m sure,” Laura replies. Somehow you’re sure she knows the way you feel about Nat and how Nat feels about you.

Soon, the boys come tumbling into the kitchen. You all go outside to do your respective chosen activities. Steve promised to show you how to chop wood while Nat and Clint run off to the barn to build a new shelter for some of the animals.

“So, what’s the deal with you and Romanoff?” Steve asks after a few minutes of chopping the wood.

“Oh, is there- is there a me and Romanoff?”

“Is there not?” He asks genuinely. “I’m sorry. I just thought that you two- nevermind.”

“It’s okay,” you reply, shrugging.

It does leave you wondering if the other members of the team think something is happening there too. You try not to think about it too much as you continue to work outside. The fresh air does wonders for you.

Steve asks you to go grab the axe sharpening block from the barn, so you walk to the structure. When you get there, you catch sight of something that makes your jaw practically drop to the ground.

Natasha is wearing only a blank tank top and shorts are she uses a power drill to build a wooden structure. Sweat drips down her neck and chest as she expertly uses the tool.

You swear she catches the sight of you out of the corner of her eye, but she continues on with her drilling. She lifts heavy pieces of wood with ease. You can’t stop staring.

Nat lifts her tank top up to wipe the sweat from her face. You see her ab happy stomach and the sports bra that’s keeping the rest of her skin covered.

“Enjoying the view?” Nat says aloud. You’ve definitely been caught now.

“Oh, I was just-“ you start, but there’s no use. You were doing exactly that. “My bad.”

“Don’t apologize,” Nat says. “Come on in, what did you need?”

“We needed the axe sharpener block thing?”

“Is that a question?”

“Well, I don’t know what it is so yes?”

Nat chuckles. She turns to look at the shelf behind her for the tool you need. Her backside somehow looks just as good as her front.

“Here you go,” Nat says. She hands you the block. You are standing close to her now. “The real fun is happening in there though. I can show you how to use this.”

She gestures to the drill in her left hand, pressing her finger on the trigger to make it whir. You shouldn’t be so intrigued by it. Or by her for that matter. But you are.

“Maybe tomorrow you can show me?” You ask her.

“How about tonight?” Nat asks. Her voice drops an octave. You pray she means what you think she means.

You swallow shyly and Nat shoots you a smile. Slowly, you leave her there and go back to Steve. He doesn’t mention how long it took you to get the tool, thank goodness.

Later that day, you all grill out burgers and hotdogs. Clint tries to show off his grilling skills, but the team just gives him a hard time saying that it’s not all that hard anyways.

By the time evening comes, everyone’s sitting around a campfire. Natasha sits across from you. She glances at her phone and then to you as a way of alerting you to look at your phone.

The text reads: Meet me in the barn. 10 minutes.

You nod in her direction to acknowledge you got the message. The minutes pass by and you both leave to go to the barn.

When you get inside, Nat is already over by the wood she was working with earlier.

“Come on, I’ll show you,” Nat says.

“Okay,” you agree. You stand next to her.

“First things first, always know your surroundings,” Nat says.

She abruptly places her hands on your hips. She easily moves you to the right and left to observe your surroundings. Your heart stops when she reaches around you and her face is mere inches from yours.

She steps back and has a pair of clear glasses in her hand.

“And wear safety glasses,” she says. She places them on your face. You’re sure you look like an absolute fool. “Cute.”

“You didn’t wear these yesterday,” comes your reply.

“That’s because I’m an expert,” Nat says. She surprises you by pinching your cheeks. “You’ll get there, sweetheart.”

Natasha grabs the drill and ushers you to move closer to the wood with her. She takes you through step by step on how to use the power tool.

“Now, you can try,” Nat says.

“Okay,” you reply. You feel a little nervous about trying it. Nat assures you that you can’t mess it up.

You try to focus even with Nat being so close to you. For the first time using a drill, you don’t do terribly.

“Nice job, y/n,” Nat says. “But you’ll want to apply more pressure. Let me help you, sweetheart.”

Natasha places her hand on yours and pushes down on the drill. You pull the trigger and drill the screw into the wood. Her hot breath is on your neck.

You smile at your success and turn just enough to look at Nat. She’s just inches from you.

“Should we take this inside?” Nat asks. Her eyes glance to your lips and back up to your eyes. She brings her other hand to your cheek and brushes the back of it against it.

“Are you- um- yes?”

“Yes? Or yes.”

“The second one,” you say. Natasha smirks at you.

You leave the drill and safety glasses behind. Natasha holds your hand as she walks you to the house. You slip upstairs easily and she closes her bedroom door behind her.

“I’ve had my eye on you for a while,” Natasha says.

“Really?” You ask innocently.

“Really, detka. Come here,” she says, bringing you to the bed with her.

You sit next to her and she kisses you softly. It’s like floating on a cloud. You didn’t think she would be this gentle. But you’re loving it.

“May I?” Nat asks, gesturing to your shirt. You nod. She lifts the material over your head. “Beautiful.”

You feel sure you’re blushing at her words and the way her eyes rake over your body.

“Can I- um?” You pull at her tank top hem.

“Yes, baby,” Natasha says. “You can do anything to me.”

You lift the thin material over her head. Your heart stops at her beauty. You immediately lean forward and take her nipple into your mouth. It surprises Natasha how intentional you are being.

“Fuck, baby.”

“Is this okay?” You ask, pulling away a bit. Nat pulls your head back to her breasts. You’ll take that as a yes.

Natasha fumbles with your pants. She gets them unbuttoned but grumbles in frustration when she can’t get them off. You chuckle against her.

“Okay, hold on,” Nat says. She stands up and pulls her own pants down before grabbing you by the hips and pulling you up too.

Natasha takes your pants off with ease this time and slips them down your legs along with your underwear. She grins and drops to her knees. It doesn’t take her long to get to work licking and sucking at your pussy.

“Oh my god,” you moan out.

“You taste so good, baby. All for me,” Nat says.

“Fuck.”

You feel close to coming embarrassingly quickly but Natasha is proud of her work.

“Come for me, y/n,” she says. Her voice drips with sex.

“Fuck, Natasha!”

You come hard against her tongue. She licks you clean and stands back up. She kisses you deeply. It’s the most on fire you have ever felt.

“I want to taste you,” you tell Nat.

“Your wish is my command,” Nat says. She lays on the bed and you crawl over her body.

“So beautiful,” you say as you kiss from between her breasts down to her hips.

“You’re not so shy now are you?” Nat asks. You answer by diving into her wet pussy.

Her folds are slick and she’s ready for you. You lick and suck her, cherishing every noise she makes.

“Fuck, baby,” Nat says. “I’m going to come.”

“Come for me, Natasha.”

She does just that. You relish in the sounds she makes. You move back up her body and lay next to her.

“So, all of those times I thought you were flirting with me you actually were?” You break the silence.

Nat chuckles. “Yes, y/n. I’ve been hinting at it for months. I’m glad we finally got on the same page.”

She looks at you through her long eyelashes. You rest your head on her shoulder.

“I’ve always liked you, Natasha,” you say. “Do you think the team noticed we left?”

“Nah,” Nat says. “Even if they did, I don’t care. I have you.”

“You sure do.”

You snuggle further into Natasha. She holds you close as you lay together and talk for hours.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #soft natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff comfort #natasha romanoff smut

[andersonlore]

# LETTING IN WHITE HEAT ✶ abby anderson!

❝ vision go black, blood, letting in white heat.❞ ft. brakence

★⠀warning y disclaimers — eighteen+, f!reader, wlw sex, poc!friendly, labeling this as dubcon bc abby is mean but she’s sweet after, mean!abby, top!abby, bottom!reader, sub!ellie, loser coded!ellie, voyerisum, kinda mean rough sex, jealous!abby, slight nipple play, strap use r!recieving, abby has one filthy mouth, mommy kink, aftercare, abby is kinda really mean

her jealousy is soft at first, small ticks easily missed if you weren’t looking. the way her blue eyes would become cold like the atlantic, void of any warmth anytime another girl hugged you for a little too long, lingering touch your smooth arms, or the one time at a frat part this ellie chick your hair wrapped around a slender finger. she wouldn’t really react, besides pulling you closer to her, resting her chin on your shoulder, abby’s long fingers intertwined with yours. she knew you were gorgeous, anyone with eyes could see it, people were going to hit on you and it maybe it was annoying at times when abby just wanted you to herself, but she ignored them and just focused on you. but tonight? god, she couldn’t control it. she was failed miserably to keep her cool. it was happening right in front of her, and you weren’t dismissing ellie’s advances like you normally would. no. not at all. you were encouraging her by batting your long, luscious eyelashes at her emerald eyes. leaning away from abby and into her, letting your fingertips grazing the tattoo on her forearm as you giggle, fucking giggling, at a lame joke ellie was telling you. abby would deck her if you wouldn’t get upset about it. you’d forgive her, eventually, but abby knew some groveling would have to happen on her end. no, she wouldn’t have it this way. still, the situation nagged her in way she despised. apparently abby wasn’t giving you enough attention you had to seek it elsewhere and god, abby was going to make you regret it. baby let’s go somewhere more quiet, yeah? your little friend can even come, quietly she whispered in your ear.

it’s how you ended up in this position, getting fucked within an inch of you life, on all fours and your delicate fingers gripping the railing of the frame at the edge, headboard crashing against the wall the abby’s thrusts. lamely, ellie was fully clothed sitting in a velvet green chair placed next to the mirror, not like she could move. abby made sure of it. her brown leather belt bound ellie’s wrist so they laid flat in her lap, lust building up in her eyes as she took in the scene before her. abby’s pierced nipples on display, burly arms flexing as they gripped onto your ass, slapping every few thrusts, letting her meaty hands smooth over the sensitive area. all ellie wanted was to be in the mix, but abby would not let her. every grunt from abby’s lips made ellie’s dripping pussy clench. it wasn’t fucking fair, her keeping you like this, all to herself. the recoil of your ass and abby’s moans mixed together was enough to make ellie cum just from rubbing her thighs against each other, but the blonde’s filthy mouth only made matters worse, pushing her to the edge quicker than she would have liked. really, even expected.

“what you think she could fuck better than me, baby? is that why you were flirting with her? huh? what? too drunk on my cock you can’t fucking talk?” abby laughed before picking up her pace, a light mumble of mommy slipped past your whimpering lips, but it was loud enough for them both to hear. “that’s right, baby. mommy always has to punish you when you’re being a spoiled brat. what? you think she can fuck you like this? she’s half my size. couldn’t even pick you up even if she tried.”

ellie felt humiliated but she couldn’t stop herself from the pressure building up in the pit of her stomach. “c’mon ellie, i know you’re close. show me what a fucking loser you are and come for me. right now, baby. yeah, just like that. ruin those pretty boxers for me.” it doesn’t take anything else ellie to squirm in the chair, spurts of white, hot cum flooding her boxers, pretty eyes rolling into the back of her head as she slumped in the chair.

abby could fully focus on you now, all the attention she could give fully on you.she slipped her the strap out of your swollen, puffy pussy and made you ride her. intentionally, she wanted to punish ellie. she wanted her to see the pussy she would never have, gush over abby’s cock. your beefy girlfriend watched as you bounced on her cock, the swell of your tits bouncing rapidly as you fully sat on the girth. abby could feel the base nudge against her clit each time, her breaths becoming more erratic, watching her stupidly pretty girl chanting out mommy mommy mommy as her hips jerked sinfully. abby decided to help you, even if you didn’t deserve it.

she met you halfway, bucking her hips, meeting you with her strong thrusts as she bent her head down to suck on the perky bud. “mommy, fuck, please can i come?” but it seemed abby still had a bit of cruelness left in her. she released your nipple with a soft pop! she shoved her middle finger and ring finger into your mouth, before instructing you “suck.” abby chose to ignore you, but you obeyed. continuing to ride her cock as she made you practically gag on her long digits. when she felt like you had enough, she circled them on your clit. “you tell me, baby? do you deserve to cum?”

abby smirked as your eyebrows furrowed, trying to concentrate enough so you wouldn’t come without her permission. she’d only punish it for you later when the two of you were back at home. “i think….” abby slapped your ass with her free hand, letting her blunt fingernails digging into the delicate flesh. “you’ve been a bad girl tonight. haven’t you? what have i told you before? c’mon, let me hear it.”

“mommy only lets good girls cum.” between every word, abby delivers cruel thrusts to your cunt, making your pussy clench around her cock.

then abby was whispering in your ear, “but since we have an audience, i’ll just punish you at home, yeah?” she pauses, before she applies more pressure on your clit. “now, ride my cock like you mean it, baby.”

once your pace quicken, abby could feel the pressure build up, could feel her clit pulsating. she was close, but she needed you to cum first. need more than the air she breathed. god, she knew you were close too. you were slamming on her cock, chasing the high you could only get from abby and she knew exactly what you were craving. she removed her grip on your ass guiding you and wrapped it around your throat, applying just the amount of pressure you craved.

“yeah, is this what you needed? just needed mommy to choke you? i know, babygirl. are you going to cum for me? yeah, you are aren’t you? cum all over my cock. fuuuckkkkk, yes. yes. good girl, such a good girl for me.” you practically screamed out her name as you squirt everywhere, abby finds her release with you. abby’s thighs, yours, the sheets beneath you drenched in your sweet slick. and all ellie could do was watch as you collapse into abby’s body. your entire body shivering as you seeked comfort in your lovers’ arms. she watched as abby soothingly rubbed your back from the tip of you spine to your lower back. whispering sweet nothings in your ear, but ellie couldn’t hear them, intentional by the blonde for her not to. abby nearly crumbled as she watched abby take care of you, cleaning you up and assisting you with putting on your clothes. you sat on the edge of the bed, completely in a daze, waiting for abby.

once abby was dressed, she walked over to ellie, towering over her, sitting or standing didn’t really matter. with a mean grip, abby held ellie’s chin, applying enough pressure to get her almost bruise. “next time you flirt with my girl, it’ll be you getting fucked an inch within your life and unlike my beautiful baby, i’ll leave you alone like the dirty slut you are, unable to fucking walk, talk, move. got it?” abby left with you in her arms, but to ellie it sounded more like music to her ears.

pathetically, ellie watched as the couple walk out of the room, abby whispering in your ear as abby kissed your temple, shutting the door behind them. and then it dawned on her. she was still fucking tied up. fucking anderson.

-

an: yeah.......so this is a thing. hope you enjoyed it as much as i loved writing it! god do i need a blonde girl to fucking rail me

#god im so horny! #ahh! #abby anderson x reader #ellie williams x reader #abby anderson smut #ellie williams smut

[psalm22-6]

I found that Brisbane's The Daily Mail used to hold weekly and monthly essay contests (with two divisions: seniors ages 16-21, and juniors for those under 16.) Books were awarded as prizes. The monthly contest had a theme, and the weekly contests were open-topic. Essays had to be under 750 words. In the first week of April 1926 the senior winner was Ailsa R. Dawson, writing on the subject "My Favourite Character."

My favourite character in fiction is Jean Valjean, the hero of Hugo's "Les Miserables." I have chosen him as my favourite character for several reasons. Jean Valjean is a convict who has been released from imprisonment. He is possessed of extraordinary strength, and his face bears the mark of his long, cruel imprisonment. Shunned as a wild beast by all with whom he comes in contact, his heart is embittered and his feelings towards his fellow-creatures warped and hardened. He is taken in by a godly old priest, who teaches him a little of the Lord's gospel — love. Later, to escape from his persecutor, Jarvis [sic], who dogs his footsteps relentlessly, he disguises himself as a priest. Father Madeline, as Valjean is now called, tries to atone for his life of sin and wretchedness, but Jarvis, finding out who ho really is, has him imprisoned again. Valjean, however, manages to escape, and is officially "dead," drowned, as they thought, in his attempt to get away. He returns to his old parish but again Jarvis finds him out. With the terrible fear of the galleys hanging over him, Valjean flees for safety to Paris, taking with him Cosette, the illegitimate daughter of a woman who has suffered cruelly for her child. After many narrow escapes from capture, he and Cosette find refuge in a convent. At last, when Valjean has his enemy's life in his hands, he lets him go unharmed. Even when spurned by Cosette's husband, he takes it as his lot, and then, at the end, begs only to be laid in a quiet, unnamed grave. My first reason for choosing Jean Valjean is that the story deals with customs and people of the middle ages. For me the middle ages hold a fascination that no other period of history offers. Again, Valjean's character attracts my interest more than any other man or woman I have read of. His life, haunted by the awful fear of capture and imprisonment, without rest from pursuit, never fails to make me cry when I read "Les Miserables." What depths there were in Valjean's character! What love, what pity, and what mercy! Have we anywhere a finer example of "Love thine enemies" than the time when Valjean held his tormentor's life in his hand. What a struggle he must have had between hate and mercy as Jarvis faced him! Never could be revenge more sweet. His life-long enemy and pursuer at his mercy! One instant and forever the shadow of capture would be removed from his path. But love triumphed, and Valjean returned good for evil. I admire Jean Valjean for his intense love for Cosette. He lavished all his starved affection on her, and though, towards the end of his life, she seemed to shun him, his love never wavered. Oh, that more of us loved as Valjean! For these reasons, then, I have chosen Jean Valjean as my favourite character in fiction, but no words can tell how deeply my feelings are stirred when I read that wonderful history of this remarkable man.

In the 70s an Ailsa R. Dawson wrote a book on the Cooloola region in Australia

#les miserables #jean valjean #fans through the ages #lm in Australia

[hogwartsfirebolt]

cw: wizarding war, and the violence it ensues.

The year bled.

It bled great gouts of wizards, beacons of hope shining bright red at the tip of their wands. Led them to their deaths, in the battlefront that had taken their friends and family, yet remained unsatisfied.

The year took his Hagrid, took his Ron, the year flung a sword into Harry’s survival instincts and turned them inside out — backwards, all wrong. He lived and breathed for his days on the front, inhabited the outermost trench for longer than anyone was allowed, his wand glowing green more often than red.

Voldemort’s tooth — sharp, a snake’s poisonous incisive — hung on a thread, rested against Harry’s throat, had for the better part of the season. Yet the war raged on.

There’d been a time when things had been simpler.

“Will you be resting this fortnight?” Hermione had asked him when she’d served, a few days earlier. She was at a safe-house, now, replenishing her core, drawing energy from the underground streams that pulsed with golden magic so she would be ready to return to the fight. It was was everyone did, every couple of weeks, what their warlord had ordered.

Harry’d not been to a safe-house in three months. He’d not known anything but carnage in all those days, was beginning to suspect that the inexhaustible nature of his core didn’t extend to his body, definitely didn’t extend to his mind.

“Where are they getting this strength? These numbers?” Ron had asked, the night before a Death Eater had torn his head right off his neck.

They still did not know the answer. It happened everyday, at the strike of dawn: dozens of Death Eaters arrived at the front, and it didn’t matter that Harry sliced right through their ranks like a sword, there were dozens more the next morning. And they still did not know the answer.

It was not simple. Nothing was simple.

“They must have found a way to clone their soldiers. It can be done — they have Voldemort’s knowledge on soul-splitting.” Kingsley had written, in the letter Harry had received two days earlier. “Soon enough they will press at their advantage. I trust you will know what to do. Do not fail me.”

There was no “soon enough”. The advantage was already being pressed, every waking second, on multiple fronts. Harry spent his days blocking them with his magic, with his body, and his nights fighting against their secret weapon, they one they seemed to reserve for him only — the mind games.

“They impersonate us?” Arthur had asked, when he’d brought health potions the previous week.

“They show up as you, or Molly, Gin, R-Ron. I’m not sure what they want, they seem to be trying to extract information, but not on our lines, not on our manpower. I don’t know what I have that they want.”

“Don’t trust anyone.”

The days cut him, and the nights suffocated him. He got approached by group after group of imposters, wearing a different face every night. People Harry loved and hadn't seen in months. Those ones didn't hurt as much. Not like it hurt when it was people he had loved and lost.

Arthur had told him not to trust anyone. Some nights, he didn’t even trust himself.

He was going mad, sending away whoever it was that wore Cedric’s body, that showed up in his mother’s face, that slipped into Sirius’ limbs like they would into a coat. People he trusted, people he loved, and whose memory would forever be tainted by this, in his mind.

The night Draco Malfoy showed up, Harry thought it was another mind trick. Then, he realized that it broke the pattern. He’d never trusted, never loved, never even tolerated Draco Malfoy.

But there he was. He showed up, nose bleeding, broken arm cradled against his chest, miserable, everything Harry raged against. His tears shone bright silver over his cheekbones, down his jaw, carrying magical energy, draining him.

“Please,” he said. “Please, I don’t know where else to go.”

Harry didn’t trust him, he shouldn’t help him. But he did. He mended the fractured bones, cut his own palm with a knife and gave him some of his magical energy, poured it right into his gaping mouth. Saved his life.

Malfoy stayed.

Something like guilt, if he was still capable of that, draped itself across Harry’s shoulders as he fed him their food, let him drink from their goblets, gave him their healing potions.

He didn’t trust him. He didn’t trust himself.

Malfoy talked, at least, which was useful.

“Portraits.” He coughed, shivery from the core-loss. “They all have hundreds of them, their magical energy split. Not their souls, that’s not sustainable, it’s their magical energy. And they take them out, give them life. There’s an energy source, and an ancient spell, a rune ... I wasn’t told, but I saw, she performed it in front of me. Please, I’ll tell you. I ran. I need your help.”

Harry didn’t need to ask who she was.

“I can fight. I can help. Please. Please, they killed my mother.”

And there were the tears again, but crystal clear, no longer carrying Malfoy’s power. Harry had successfully stopped the drainage.

“I shouldn’t.”

“Please. Write to your general, I’ll say anything, I hate her.”

There had been a time in which Malfoy’s desperation would have made him feel at an advantage, would have made him laugh, prod at the wound. But that time was long gone, desperation was the only thing he knew now, as well, and there was no winning. It was a winless fight. Malfoy was too human, too scared, not an instrument of war.

“No. We don’t know he’s telling the truth, I forbid you from sheltering him.” Kingsley’s letter said.

There’d been a time when things had been simpler.

But the war raged, the weeks blended into each other, and the pain, renewed as it was every single day, numbed him.

Harry was human. Harry was scared. Harry was an instrument of war.

He sheltered him anyway.

“One wrong move, and you’re out. You have one chance.”

Malfoy nodded, weeping right there in the trench, in his blood-stained clothes. Harry couldn’t afford to distrust him, was too busy staying alive.

And Malfoy did not fail him. In the morning light, dozens of Death Eaters Harry had killed a million times marched into the battlefield, and Malfoy fought next to him. Harry’d not had anyone watch his back in months, and it made for a nice change.

At night, they fended off the imposters, and Harry fed him his own magical energy, watched him grow stronger with it. His core was inexhaustible, he knew. He didn’t have to send Malfoy away to regain strength, he gave it to him, every single night.

It was forbidden, but it was also the only thing that seemed right in the vortex of destruction he’d been living in.

“She keeps an artifact at the Manor. It looks like a prophecy, is kept under lock and key inside her chambers. I saw it, she made me clean it once. I think it’s the source of all this. I think if you destroy it, this will be over.” Malfoy said, three weeks after they’d been fighting side by side. He looked stronger, energized, and if Harry closed his eyes, he could feel his own magic inside Draco’s corestream, like an extension of himself.

“How?”

He felt Draco prodding back, felt him extending his energy so it circled back to Harry, so it flowed freely between them.

“There’s no time to look. Burn down the manor.”

The discovery that they could access each other’s magic should have been monumental, yet felt like nothing at all. They’d known, they’d experienced it every night for weeks. An intimacy unlike any other, between enemies, between allies.

“I thought I forbid you from taking him in.” Kingsley’s letter said, when Harry proposed the idea. It didn’t feel like a reprimand. It felt like a father, telling a child off for keeping a stray kitten. “I have sent reinforcements to the front, come to headquarters. Both of you. We’re burning the house this week.”

The plan was to march off to Malfoy Manor the morning after they arrived at headquarters. Instead, they slept for three days straight.

They were in different rooms, but Harry only had to close his eyes to trace his energy back to Draco, and it soothed him.

They’d been enemies. They were human, they were scared. Now, they were allies. Now, they were one, more than they were two.

“I think we can read each other’s minds.” Malfoy said when they woke up, except he wasn’t anywhere in the room. The voice had come from Harry’s head.

“So it seems.”

They found each other in the kitchen, had breakfast, made vague conversation, not a single word spoken out loud.

“Is the war ending?”

“Once they stop multiplying like crazy, we can beat them, and stop fighting. Live our lives, maybe. But I don’t think the war will ever end, Draco.”

He wanted to explain that he felt like he would carry it forever, but he didn’t have to. In the space between thinking it and wanting to communicate it, he already had.

“I know.”

For the first time in months, when Harry searched inside himself, he didn’t feel empty. There was energy, magic, there was someone else with him, in the space that had existed between his anger and his grief.

“Also, I can do wandless now," Draco added.

“Yeah, that’s on me.”

“Do you think this means we are …?”

“Yeah.”

They showered.

After, they apparated to Malfoy Manor, didn’t even have to touch to do it together, the crack of the spell going off in unison, turning heads once they arrived. The entire Order was there, and, in front of them, the house aflame.

The Manor bled. It bled tendrils of black magic that dissipated into thin air, screamed, called to the tooth hanging at Harry’s neck. He wrapped his fingers around it and held it tight — his trophy, his burden.

All that was left of the enemy army were twenty wizards that scuttled out of the blazing house like fleeing rats. She wasn’t amongst them. Somehow, Harry knew she’d died trying to protect her energy source. He knew that he would have, and soldiers weren't so different.

He and Draco took care of the survivors, both their powers pulled into a single explosion of green.

“Wow.” Hermione said, standing next to Harry.

“We think it’s over.”

“You two are …”

“Yeah.”

“Permanently.”

“Yeah.”

“You know that’s forbidden.”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

The year had bled, had been an open wound. Then it had been cleaned and stitched, messily, but closed. It ached. It bore the name of the friend Harry had loved the most, his other half. It would never go away, it would scar.

But it was healing.

Harry reached out with his magic, and felt Draco meet him halfway.

-

Written for @drarrymicrofic prompt "forbidden"

#drarry #drarry microfic #drarrymicrofic #mine #drarry fic #draco malfoy #harry potter #mywriting

[wandsolsen]

Champagne Problems

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Summary: In which Wanda rejected your marriage proposal, inspired by Taylor Swift's song Champagne Problems.

Warnings: pure angst, cursing.

Word Count: 1.8k

↳ Please, be aware that English isn't my first language, fell free to tell me if there are any mistakes.

You booked the midnight train for a reason, you wanted to contemplate your pain with your head against the train window.

The reason for your suffering had a name, Wanda Maximoff.

You sat down in one of the seats, feeling the hurt in your chest burning hard just for thinking about her. The train wasn't too much crowned, however, it wasn't all empty. There were people talking and people sleeping, you were not sure which was worse.

People looked at you, certainly worried about how miserable you were.

You finally rested your head on the train window, looking at the view from the outside. Unintentionally, you remembered Wanda's hand holding yours as the two of you danced on the dance floor.

Wanda smiled at you, and she looked happy. But she wasn't, at least, not complete. Not happy enough to say yes.

However, nobody could ever have thought that she would say no.

You felt the tears coming out, your mouth trembled as you remembered. Your heart was made of glass and she let it drop it.

You had prepared a speech, but when you got down on your knees, you didn't find the expression of emotion and excitement that you had imagined she would had. Instead, you saw Wanda's body tense and fear in her green eyes.

You were speechless.

She didn't even let you ask, she ran away, leaving you there, on your knees and crestfallen on the dance floor.

You were so broken that you hadn't the strength to reach out to her, Wanda's love escaped beyond your reaches.

You saw the pity look that your family and friends gave to you. You had told them that you were going to propose Wanda that night, you couldn't keep it a secret.

You had bought Dom Pérignon and one of your family members had already popped the bottle in an early celebration, it was humiliating.

"Maybe it's just one of her...What does she call? Oh, yeah," Steve remembered before anyone could answer him. "her champagne problems." Steve was trying to calm you down, but he wasn't succeeding.

Fuck Wanda, you thought, your veins filled with angry. Fuck her and her champagne problems.

But even with all the fury you were feeling, Wanda's picture was still in your wallet along with your mom's ring.

You didn't hate her for leaving, you could never hate her.

You remembered the first time you made Wanda blush, it was in November.

You both met in college, and you thought you were the luckiest person in the world for having Wanda as your roommate. She was organized, friendly and didn't ask too many questions, everything a person could want from a roommate.

"Someone said to me that this door was once a madhouse." You said to her, wanting to make small talk.

"Well, it's made for me." Wanda made a joke, and you chuckled.

"A beautiful and intelligent woman like you in a madhouse? I find it hard to believe."

"Beautiful people do have problems too." Wanda's face was getting flush.

"I know, I know." You said. "I just wanted to praise you because, well, you're definitely one of the most beautiful girls on the campus."

And there it was, Wanda's face all red and her shy smile on her lips. You felt your heart beating faster than usual at that moment.

"So do you?" You continued.

"Do what?"

"Have problems."

"Just champagne problems." She answered.

"Champagne problems?" You asked, with your furrowed eyebrows.

"Yes, nothing meaningful or worth mention," She explained. "when compared to the others issues around the world."

"Well, champagne or not, they're still problems."

She thought about your words for a moment, but didn't say anything. Wanda continued to devalue her own problems, claiming that her issues were insignificant and there were worse things in the world.

Wanda was very reserved in the beginning, it was usually you who started the conversations. It didn't take long for you to fall in love with her.

I mean, how could you not? She was gorgeous and caring. Wanda was kinder than the most people you had ever met. She was a dream girl, with her hair loose and long, her sweet smile and her funny laugh. The way she was always up to help someone in need, and how she tried to empathize with everyone.

Wanda was absolutely flawless.

You only asked her out on a date when you were sure she wouldn't reject you.

Now, seeing from afar, you could see how stupid you were. You should have waited, just kneeling after knowing for sure that she would say yes.

But that's the problem.

You had sure that Wanda would say yes with tears dropping from her eyes. Then, your song would have played, you would have kissed her and held her hand tight while dancing. Your friends would have cheered with joy, and Wanda would have hugged you with a radiant smile on her face.

You let out a breath of pain. You now lived with only wishes. Because she dropped your hand while dancing, instead of holding tight.

Just champagne problems, she would say, about this dramatic situation.

You had a black Chevy that Wanda loved, she enjoyed riding in your car, even if you never go anywhere special. And when the car stopped running and you decided that was time to buy a better one, Wanda didn't let you. Often you saw her on the passenger seat murmuring whatever song was playing on the radio.

Nevertheless, the Chevy wasn't going anywhere. Just like your relationship.

Feeling tired of sitting there in this hurt, you left the train and went to the nearest hotel that you could find, you didn't want to come back home anytime soon.

You lived in a small town, your failed marriage proposal was probably spreading in the mouth of people like a disease.

Your turn on your phone, there were many messages and missed calls from your friends, but no one of them matters to you. Except one.

There was one voicemail from Wanda. Just that. She didn't send you a dozen messages like your friends, just a voicemail.

You set down on the bed, before listening to her voice for the last time.

Hey, Y/N, it's me, Wanda. I think I owed you an apology for leaving you out there standing. I-I can't do this, I'm sorry.

Wanda's voice was trembling, it sounded like she was crying. Why was she crying? She left you, not the other way around.

You didn't know it was possible for your heart to break more, but it did. The sound of her painful voice would haunt you forever.

I really can't give you a reason, I guess I never was ready for commitment. Sometimes you just don't know the answer until someone gets on their knees and asks you, you know?

There was a long pause, so long that you thought the message was over. However, Wanda's voice filled the room again:

You deserve someone better than me, you always had. Someone who is not fucked up in the head like me, someone who will never hurt you like I did. You'll find a real thing out there, she will pick up the pieces of your broken heart and she will patch up your tapestry that I shredded. She will be so perfect that you will not remeber me, or all my champagne problems.

Your vision was blurred because of the tears that fall uncontrollably from your face.

Ours... your friends called, they all are worried about you, please contact them.

There was another long pause.

I lov...

Your heart started to race at the words she was about to say, but Wanda gave up halfway, as if realizing that the words were not true.

Goodbye, Y/N.

And that was it.

Four years of relationship saying goodbye in a voicemail of less than five minutes.

Your throat burned from holding on to crying for so long, you wanted to scream until your vocal cords burst.

You loved her more than anything, and she left as if it were nothing. As if your love meant nothing.

You took the picture of Wanda that was still on your wallet, and tore it into several pieces before throwing it in the trash.

Eventually, the sleep caught you while you were crying in the hotel bed, similar to a friendly hug in the midst of so much pain.

━━━━━━ ᗢ ━━━━━━

You heard that Wanda left town, without looking back, on the same day that she rejected your proposal.

Wanda's sweet perfume was still impregnate, along with your memories with her, in every room of the house that the two of you used to live. You didn't manage to stay there, it didn't take long for you to sell the house and buy an apartment in the city center.

You sold your black Chevy, there was no one around to stop you.

You also sold Wanda's things that she left behind, you didn't want anything to remind you of her. Because after the end of the day, you were still mad at Wanda. For leaving, for didn't give you a good reason, for making your waste four years of your life.

"She would've made such a lovely bride, what a shame she's fucked in the head." That was probably the last thing that someone spoke about Wanda, before another big gossip emerge in your town and they eventually forgot the humiliation that she put you through.

At first, you stayed in your new apartment with your heart broken, just watching futile reality shows and eating junk food. Steve, your best friend, was there all the time giving you emotional support, even though he didn't always know how to say the right thing.

But eventually you had to face reality, after all, you suffering or not, life still went on.

It took two years before you were ready to fall in love again. And two years since you had heard from Wanda, you didn't know about her even on social media, since she had deleted them all.

It was as if Wanda had simply disappeared, little by little, she became a myth in your life, a ghost that haunted you from time to time. Not even your friends and family mentioned her name.

Sometimes you wondered if she really existed, if you haven't invented her in your head.

It was in a bar outside the town, that you met Natasha Romanoff. She was self-confident and carried a death look in her eyes, rigid on the outside, but soft on the inside. She had short red hair and was not very fond of wearing jewellery.

Totally different from Wanda.

Natasha was fun to be around, it was easy to understand her because she was always honest with you.

You started to date her on the very first day of summer. Then, after spending all the four seasons together, you started to carry your mom's ring in your pocket and Natasha's picture in your wallet.

And when you got on your knees, she didn't leave you crestfallen on the dance floor. She said yes, and held your hand tight while dancing.

However, in the end, Wanda was wrong.

You still remeber all her champagne problems.

#wanda x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda x you #wanda x y/n #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda

[intheticklecloset]

Girls' Night (My Hero Academia)

Primary Universe

Summary: During an innocent trip to the fridge for a drink, Todoroki inadvertently gets cornered by the girls of Class 1-A, who are more than a little curious to see for themselves how ticklish he really is.

A/N: I mean...come on, is this not the cutest idea ever? I loved writing this one! Ticklish Todoroki is one of my favorites. Enjoy! ^^

Word Count: 1,344

~~~

“Girls, wait, I…” Todoroki stammered, looking up at the five – well, six, though he technically couldn’t see Hagakure – faces looming above him. “W-Why are we doing this?”

“Because it’s adorable!” Hagakure replied in a high-pitched squeal of excitement. Around her, the others nodded their agreement.

“But I thought this was a girls’ night.” Todoroki blushed as his arms were pulled above his head, Momo straddling his waist. “I-I’m not…”

Uraraka giggled. “Relax, we’re not going to torture you. That’s not our style.”

“No,” Tsu agreed. “We saw you on the bus and thought it looked like fun.”

“So we decided we wanted to see how ticklish you are for ourselves.” Jirou nodded toward Momo. “Although this one already got to test it.”

Momo blushed and looked away, a small smile on her lips. Todoroki opened his mouth to protest more, but that’s when he felt fingers in his underarms and poking along his ribs, and he couldn’t help but giggle, clenching his fists.

How had he gotten into this situation? He’d been minding his own business, heading downstairs to grab a can of Coke from the fridge to help him power-study tonight. He wanted to get all of his work done early so he could enjoy spring break, which had officially started as of the end of today’s classes. But somewhere between his getting to the kitchen and his leaving it, the girls – who were all camped out in the living room for a slumber party, complete with pillow forts and a lot of snacks – called him over for a moment, and that had led to him being pinned to the floor at all of their mercy, knowing full well he wouldn’t be able to hide how sensitive he was from any of them.

All of it was embarrassing and flustering, and yet…he knew he would have a lot of fun, too.

“P-Plehehehehehease be cahahahareful,” he said, squirming instinctively. The girls pinning his arms down held him even firmer. “I’m r-reheheheheally ticklish.”

“We can’t wait to see it,” Jirou teased, scribbling her fingers along his ribs and sides, smiling when he couldn’t hold back his stream of giggles.

Momo moved next, trailing her long nails over his open belly and waistline, making him twitch and grin widely, trying to hold back but failing miserably. Jirou continued working on his upper torso, while Uraraka and Tsu managed his underarms. All of the tickling was light and bearable – for now.

“Come on, Todoroki,” Mina teased, grabbing his knees and squeezing. “Let it out. We won’t judge.”

“Yeah, we think it’s super cute!” Hagakure added from somewhere behind Yaoyorozu. “Right, Momo?”

“Um, yeah.” Momo blushed, but kept up her gentle, teasing tickles.

Todoroki replied merely by continuing to giggle, twitching and jerking at each new ticklish touch, his smile so wide it almost hurt.

“I’m not getting any reaction here,” Mina hummed. “Where were Deku and Bakugou tickling him that made him laugh so hard?”

“I think it was here, wasn’t it?” Tsu asked, digging a little harder into his underarm.

Todoroki let out a loud yelp, his smile widening. “P-Plehehehease be careful!”

“Oh~ So it’s your armpits, huh?” Jirou teased, nodding at Uraraka. “Get him, you two.”

“No, wait! Please, wait – NOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO!!” Todoroki tossed his head back and laughed, trying his best to wiggle even a bit but going nowhere fast thanks to the weight on his arms and hips keeping him firmly where he was. “NAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! PLEHEHEHEHEASE!!”

“Awww!” The girls cooed in unison, only making him blush and laugh harder. “Look at him! He’s so ticklish!”

“This is the cutest thing I’ve ever seen,” Jirou chuckled, using her earphone jacks to wiggle into his lower ribs while her fingers focused on his upper ribs. “Tickle, tickle~”

“STAHAHAHAHA – PLEHEHEHEHEHEHEASE!!” Todoroki cut himself off from saying “stop” just in time, letting out a loud squeal when Uraraka and Tsu started kneading into his armpits. “AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA NOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO!!”

Momo blushed furiously at the sight before her, though she was enjoying it immensely, if the huge smile on her face was any indication. She bravely reached under his white t-shirt to scribble along his bare skin directly.

“PLEHEHEHEHEASE, IT TIHIHIHIHIHICKLES!! GIRLS, PLEASE – NONOTTHERE!!” He suddenly screeched, arching his back as much as possible, nearly bucking Momo off of his hips. All of them stopped, surprised. “Nononono, please not there, not that! It tickles too much! Please!”

“Not where?” Uraraka asked, genuinely confused until she saw Mina’s grinning face behind Momo, pointing dramatically to the half-and-half hero’s feet. “Oh, I see. Are your feet really ticklish?”

“T-They’re…yes, they’re extremely ticklish,” Todoroki admitted, struggling beneath their firm hold but still going nowhere fast. “Please, d-don’t…not there!”

There was a long silence as the girls looked among themselves, seeming to debate what to do. Finally, Uraraka, Tsu, and Jirou left their places at his upper body and crawled over to join Mina and Hagakure. Momo stayed where she was, continuing to straddle him and pin him in place.

Todoroki brought his arms down gratefully, but five of the six girls being so close to the spot he’d just begged them not to tickle was making him nervous. “Girls?” He felt weight on his shins, keeping him from moving his legs whatsoever, and his heart began to race anew. “N-No, wait, please, not there, I beg you!”

“It’s okay, Todoroki,” Momo said, smiling sweetly at him. “It’s just for a minute.”

“I c-can’t handle – NOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO!!!” Todoroki quickly lost his composure once again, throwing his head back with hysterical laughter as more fingers than he could count scribbled and scraped along his bare soles, sending him into fits of laughter he hadn’t even known were possible until now. He desperately tried to grab at anything he could – the couch, the coffee table, the girl straddling his hips – but all he could manage was to flop around like a fish out of water and laugh so hard he thought he might run out of breath.

“STAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAP!!” He pleaded, pounding the ground weakly as he rolled from side to side, the ticklish shockwaves sending more sensations through his body than he could handle at once. He was losing his mind. “PLEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEASE!! I CAN’T – I CAHAHAHAHAHAHAN’T TAHAHAHAHAHAKE IT!! GIRLS!! MEHEHEHEHEHEHEHERCY!!”

Momo watched his face carefully, judging whether he could breathe, whether he was truly in distress, whether he was having fun or not. For a short while it looked like he was enjoying himself despite his hysterical pleading, but the instant his eyes went from happy to panicked, she put an end to his ticklish torture.

“All right, girls,” she called over her shoulder, “that’s enough.”

The others stopped instantly, willing to follow her lead, and they all climbed off of him and sat back, letting him curl up into a ball on his side as he let out some leftover giggles.

Uraraka put a hand on his shoulder gently. “You okay?”

“Y-Yeah, I’m fine,” Todoroki replied breathlessly, still chuckling even as he groaned into the carpeted floor. “You girls are ruthless.”

They all giggled at him.

“If it’ll make you feel better, you can hang out with us for a little while,” Momo offered. “We have snacks. It’s the least we can do.”

“I don’t want to impose on your girls’ night,” he replied, sitting up. “Plus, I have studying to do.”

“Studying?!” they all cried, aghast.

“But it’s spring break!” Mina exclaimed.

Todoroki couldn’t help but laugh all over again. “Relax, I’m not going to study the entire break. I just wanted to get a little bit done tonight so I can enjoy the rest of the week off.”

“Well, before you do that, why don’t you watch an episode of an anime with us?” Jirou suggested, handing him a bowl of pretzels. “It’ll help you feel better for what we just put you through. Then you can study. Sound fair?”

Todoroki hesitated, then accepted the bowl and popped a pretzel into his mouth. “Just one episode,” he agreed, and all of the girls squealed in excitement and queued up the show, settling in to watch.

#fanfiction #tickle fic #boku no hero #my hero academia #bnha #mha #bnha girls #mha girls #shoto #todoroki #uraraka #momo #tsuyu #jirou #mina #hagakure #girls night #playful #fun #fluff #tickling #ticklish #tickle

[meher-sumedha]

Gwynriel Headcanon : Gwyn jealous

(I thought this as the first thing I woke up in the morning so god forgive me, also kinda toxic)

Gwyn hated it, Gwyn fucking hated it. Hated the way he was dancing with that bitch. She knew she and Azriel had a platonic relationship. Well she didn't even know if she could call it a relationship, they only fucked now and then.

But still, she hated it. So she didn't know if it was alcohol or what that made her legs immediately walk up to them. Azriel's back was towards her, so she tapped his shoulder slightly, he didn't turn. She tapped again, and yet he didn't turn. And then she tapped a bit harsh, and only then did Azriel turn.

"What's wrong Gwyn? " He asked, kissing down the neck of the bitch. He was not a good drunk, and Gwyn had enough with him using that excuse to flirt and dance with other girls. Or letting them grind against him.

"You know what's wrong, " Gwyn replied, waiting for him to stop and pay attention to her. He then sighed and stopped dancing with the girl and said, "F. R. I. E. N. D. S. we're just friends. "

And began dancing with her again. Gwyn didn't know if that was for her, or the bitch. And Azriel didn't explain himself. It was like he couldn't care less about her.

Well Gwyn was done with his shit. She sat down at the bar and took some shots of tequila. It burned her throat when it went down, but it didn't burn more than the feeling inside of her.

She drank and drank. Tried to push down that feeling. Yet it didn't work. So, as soon as another guy walked to the bar, she pulled his shirt's collar and brought him down to the dance floor.

She then turned around to look at him, "Wanna dance? " And the guy's eyes roamed around her body, taking her beautiful figure in. Took in her body con blue dress that hugged her figure tightly, and barely lest anything for the imagination. He smirked and said, "Yes".

So they started dancing. With Gwyn grinding her back against his front. His hands roaming around her body, from her hips to her chest. At one moment, Gwyn could've sworn he groaned in her ear.

And then he whispered, "Wanna go outside? " And Gwyn didn't know what to do, so she nodded. What could possibly go wrong? Innocent Gwyn thought.

And so she followed him outside. As soon as they went outside, he tried to slam his lips into her but Gwyn backed away. "Whooa there, what do you think you're doing. ", "I thought you wanted to have sex with me. "

And he tried to kiss her again but Gwyn backed away, "We were dancing for fuck's sake-", "You were grinding your ass against me. And anyways, you don't wear that kind of dress until you want it. You're basically asking for it-" And that was when Gwyn's fist connected with his jaws.

"I can wear whatever the hell I want, whenever I want. And if I want something, I'll ask for it. Instead of looking at my dress and assuming what I want, fucking ask me that. "

And Gwyn was about to walk away when that guy held her wrists violently and slammed her against the wall, he then whispered, "I want you girl, and I'm gonna get you-" He didn't get to finish his sentence until someone pulled him from behind and punched him, repeatedly.

What the hell just happened? Gwyn thought. And then suddenly the guy rose. Guess what, it was Azriel. And he looked angry, "What the hell were you doing with a guy, in an alley, at 3am in the fucking morning? "

Gwyn was still processing what the hell just happened so she started with the same speech"I can do whatever I want whenever I-", "Oh don't give me that-", "Well why the fuck do you care? F.R. I. E. N. D. S? Right? We're just friends. "

Azriel was surprised to see Gwyn cursing, and was surprised all together to see Gwyn jealous, so he asked, with a huge devillish smirk forming on his face, "Were you jealous Gwyn? "

And Gwyn was not having it, so she started walking away, muttering, "fuck you az" And Azriel chuckled at that, and said, "You know you'd love to. "

And Gwyn stopped short in her steps. She knew she needed an outlet, maybe- maybe this could be it.

So without any warning she pulled Azriel's collar and started kissing him. He wasn't doing anything so she took his hands and guided them to her ass. She tangled her hands in his hair. Yeah, she wanted this, meaningless sex. That's all it was anyways.

And then Azriel pulled away, panting. "Gwyn, you're drunk. " And Gwyn tried to kiss him again but then he pulled away completely, "Gwyn, you're drunk. "

He didn't wanna have sex with me. He didn't wanna have sex with me. And this thought, only this thought ran in Gwyn's head. She was hurt, and embarassed, and she didn't even know when she slipped up the words, "You don't wanna have sex with me. " And she repeated those words, like a mantra, sticking them.

And Azriel seemed alarmed at the words. He suddenly cupped her cheeks and said, "Of course not Gwyn, I wanna have sex with you. And you have no idea how much, but you're drunk and I would be taking advantage of you. " Gwyn didn't believe one of the words he'd just said, and she was about to walk away when Azriel suddenly wrapped his arms around her waist and started flying.

Gwyn was forced to wrap her hands around his neck, even if she didn't want to. And when the arrived at the house of wind, she muttered, "asshole" With her neck still resting in the crook of his neck. Azriel chuckled and Gwyn pulled away, to see his eyes, his hazel eyes that she loved. His hazel eyes that were full of light at this moment, and this brought a smile to her face.

He returned the smile and said, "You're smiling" And Gwyn suddenly realized that and pulled away. She then started walking away from him and into the house, she heard Azriel groan behind her, "Gwyn-", "No no, I know" Gwyn said before trying to walk down the stairs to the library, and failing miserably.

"Whoop-" And Azriel was there in a second to pull her up. "I can manage myself", "Yeah sure you can Gwynnie", "Don't call me that", "Okayy Gwynnie" He said and Gwyn looked at him, trying to seem angry, but miserably failing again. That only made Azriel chuckle more.

"You can stay here-", "Can I stay in your room? " Gwyn asked, knowing she would be disappointed in the answer, but was actually surprised when he said, "ok".

So they walked to his room and Gwyn went straight up to his wardrobe to take out a t-shirt and get out of this dress. She went in the bathroom to change, and she heard Azriel ask her, "Are you hungry? ", "No" She replied and changed into his t-shirt.

She then walked out of the room only to see Azriel in just his boxers, and his eyes roaming around her legs. She smirked before getting under the covers and saying, "well shadowsinger, you do remember that you said no to sex, right? "

And Azriel groaned before getting into bed, "you're not gonna let that go are you?" And Gwyn smiled and shaked her head.

Both their backs were against each other, but not before Gwyn asked, "wanna cuddle?" And Azriel chuckled and said, "Yeah".

So Azriel rested on his back, not knowing what to do. Gwyn turned towards him with a smirk and asked, "You don't know how to cuddle, do you?" And Azriel didn't reply. She then went to hug his chest and rest her head on his chest. He then replied, "Ye-yes I do", "As you say Azriel" Gwyn said in a knowing tone.

Azriel wrapped one of his arms protectively around Gwyn, and with his other, stroked her back. "Goodnight Azriel", Azriel kissed her head and said, "Goodnight love".

(I have my exams tomorrow but I wrote this)

#azriel #az #gwyneth berdara #gwynriel #shadowsinger #gwyn #acotar #gwyneth #incorrect acotar quotes #acosf #gwyn berdara #azriel shadowsinger #az shadowsinger #azgwyn #gwynriel headcanon #gwynriel oneshot #i stan gwyn #i stan gwynriel #gwynriel smut #gwynriel fluff #gwynriel supremacy #i love gwynriel #i love gwyneth #i love gwyn #i love gwyneth berdara #gwyn x azriel #azriel x gwyn #azriel acosf #gwyenriel

[the-widow-sisters]

Tracing My Love

Summary: When Yelena is bored one day, Natasha asks Yelena to lay her head on Natasha's lap. Yelena is confused until her sister introduces her to a gentle activity that fully satiates the touch-starved beast within Yelena. Just innocent sister fluff.

Word Count: 2093

  “I’m bored,” Yelena whined, drawing the last word out in a much too dramatic fashion. She could feel Natasha’s gaze upon her as she looked up from the book that she had stuffed her nose into.

  “Go for a run,” Natasha suggested, and Yelena shook her head from her position on the other side of the couch, just groaning loudly.

  “It’s too hot and miserable for that,” Yelena informed her, looking at her older sister and taking in the unhidden grin spreading across the redhead’s face.

  “You could get one of those nasty slushie things you like,” Natasha spoke, and Yelena scoffed immediately in reply.

  “The store is not open on Sundays. Besides, the slushies are a delicacy. Second only to vodka,” Yelena informed her, and Natasha just grinned a bit wider, a laugh rising in her throat, and Yelena felt quite satisfied with herself for bringing such emotion to the redhead.

  “So that must be why you like them,” Natasha suddenly piped up in response. Yelena shifted her gaze to her in slight confusion.

  “What?” Yelena asked, suspicion in her voice as she noted how smug and pleased that Natasha sounded with herself. She had to admit that it was quite nice to have the privilege of hearing Natasha’s voice in such a pleasing, happy tone.

  “You must be mixing vodka in so you can’t taste the actual slushie,” Natasha told her, keeping her voice perfectly level, and Yelena narrowed her eyes a little in a playful glare. Natasha’s light greens were sparkling with mirth as she glanced up from the book.

  “Ha,” Yelena just faked a short bark of laughter.

  “There’s food in the kitchen,” Natasha suggested, and Yelena just pouted a little in response to the statement.

  “There is no sour cream and onion chips,” Yelena shot down her sister’s proposal,

  “I bought some for you yesterday.”

  “Yeah, about that… I finished the bag yesterday,” Yelena admitted with a slight grin, completely unashamed of her feat, and Natasha’s eyes widened a little

  “Seriously?!” Natasha questioned, some surprise in her voice as she looked up from her novel once again to gaze at Yelena.

  “What?! I’m a growing girl, you know!” Yelena defensively declared, and Natasha just shook her head with mock disappointment.

  “If you keep downing a whole bag of potato chips all at one time, you’re going to grow. Not sure if you’re going to like how you do, though,” Natasha commented, raising her eyebrows.

  Yelena brought her foot up, gently kicking Natasha’s arm that was holding up the book. However, she overdramatically did it, so it looked like she was putting more effort into it than she actually was. Natasha skillfully kept her hold on the book, just trading hands as she kept reading.

  Yelena groaned before scooting over closer to Natasha, her eyes locked onto the side of Natasha’s face. She eased ever nearer to the redhead, and she finally was close enough to rest her chin on Natasha’s shoulder as she lazily raked her gaze over the words inside the book, not truly reading any of it. Natasha raised an eyebrow, craning her neck slightly and looking down at the blonde.

  Yelena just shifted her honey-green eyes upward to meet Natasha’s.

  “What are you reading?” Yelena questioned curiously, and Natasha huffed a little. She delivered a swift, soft kiss to the center of Yelena’s forehead before looking back down at the book.

  “Probably nothing you’re going to find interesting.”

  “Try me,” Yelena challenged, and Natasha simply looked down at the younger girl with blatant skepticism evident in her stare.

  “I will have you know that I am very educated in the world of literary… ness,” Yelena proclaimed, her voice a little uncertain despite the bravado she forced into it. Natasha just chuckled fondly, shaking her head a little.

  “It’s Gone with the Wind,” Natasha told her, and Yelena wrinkled her nose with disgust. She tilted her head, trying to get a better look at the cover. She scoffed as she spotted a man and a woman on the front in a loving embrace.

  “Are you sure this is appropriate reading material?” Yelena asked, trying and failing to hold back the laugh in her voice. Natasha raised an eyebrow with slight confusion, not exactly understanding Yelena’s mirth.

  “Yeah. Why wouldn’t it be?”

  “It looks like it has some… adult themes,” Yelena suggestively spoke, waggling her eyebrows ridiculously, and Natasha finally flipped the book to actually take the time to look at the cover. She quickly caught on, just laughing at the younger girl. Yelena chuckled but awaited an answer.

  “No, no, none of that. Just pure romance. Not anything too out there.”

  “Ick. Sounds sappy,” Yelena blew her off, her chin still resting on Natasha’s shoulder heavily, and she noticed out of her peripheral vision that Natasha was rolling her eyes in reply to her.

  “Natashka, I’m bored,” Yelena drew the words out tiredly, unable to think of anything she wanted to do and hoping that her awesome big sister would think of something. Natasha finally put down the book on the table nearby, pursing her lips ever so slightly as she grew lost in thought.

  After a painstakingly long moment of this, Natasha seemed almost as if she had settled upon something or came to some conclusion or another. She looked at Yelena and shifted slightly so that Yelena would raise her head from its place on her shoulder. Yelena felt the need to complain about the loss of her comfy place, but she held her tongue, curious as to what Natasha was coming up with.

  Natasha looked at her for a long moment before finally speaking.

  “Lay down,” Natasha patted her lap, and Yelena started to do it without question, eager to take advantage of her sister’s offered affections. However, she quickly paused in the middle of her movements, looking at Natasha skeptically.

  “Wait… Why?” Yelena asked, and Natasha rolled her eyes fondly, nothing but warmth in her eyes.

  “Just do it,” Natasha told her, and Yelena hesitantly complied, not sure what to expect but trusting Natasha nevertheless. She was not sure if she was being lured into a tickle trap so she carefully kept her arms clamped to her sides once her head was in Natasha’s lap.

  “Relax. No tickle fights,” Natasha assured her, and Yelena loosened, hearing the genuineness in the redhead’s voice. She hesitantly slid her arms up so that they were resting on either side of her head and across Natasha’s lap.

  To her surprise, Natasha rolled up the back of her shirt, and Yelena stiffened just barely. She quickly loosened up, though, trusting Natasha wholeheartedly. Before she could ask what the older woman was doing, she suddenly felt feather-light touches raking across her back gently.

  She almost shivered from the feeling, and her eyes were open wide as Natasha’s digits tickled barely along her back, tender across her skin.

  “I’m going to trace a word on your back, and you’ve got to tell me what it is,” Natasha explained, her voice soft and quiet, and Yelena just nodded barely, worried that if she even breathed wrong that the attentions would stop. The ministrations were unlike anything she had ever felt, and it made her mind completely overload with the sensations of the most trusted person in her life touching her so lovingly and so gently.

  Y-E-L-E-N-A.

  Natasha stopped once she had spelled it out, and it took Yelena a painfully long moment to respond to the redhead as she tried to get her thoughts back in order from the overwhelmingly kind touches.

  “Yelena,” Yelena answered softly, finding herself eager for the next word that would be traced if only to feel Natasha’s gentle fingers running across her back.

  “Good job,” Natasha softly praised, and Yelena felt her chest constricting with something that was so purely the love of an adoring little sister that thought her older sister’s praise was as valuable as the air she breathed. Of course, she would never admit this to herself, but it nevertheless was an emotion that was coursing through every fiber of her being.

  “Two words this time,” Natasha explained quietly, and Yelena almost impatiently awaited her sister’s tender touches.

  S-W-E-E-T.

  G-I-R-L.

  “Sweet girl?” Yelena asked, almost embarrassed as she uttered one of Natasha’s special nicknames for her.

  “That’s it,” Natasha quietly agreed, and Yelena felt herself melting even further with the love in her voice.

  It was all that Yelena had ever wanted in her life. She had just wanted her sister’s affection, approval, and love. While she felt ridiculous on one hand for finding such satisfaction and pure happiness from a silly game like this, on the other hand it was something she craved deeply.

  Natasha soon started writing again.

  L-A-P-O-C-H-K-A.

  “Lapochka,” Yelena affirmed, feeling a slight smile coming to her face, and Natasha chuckled warmly.

  “Thought I’d switch languages and make it a little more complicated,” Natasha told her, and her voice was filled with nothing but affection. Yelena felt herself inflating a little with the loving, proud tone in Natasha’s voice. She knew she had really accomplished nothing significant, but it was still a huge deal to her that Natasha approved even of something as dumb as guessing a word right.

  Natasha traced another word on her back, and Yelena concentrated on it carefully.

  “Rooskaya,” Yelena acknowledged, and Natasha swept a hand across her back as if she were erasing the word. Yelena closed her eyes, enjoying the contact from someone that she trusted so deeply.

  “I,” Yelena read once Natasha wrote and paused for a while. It was confusing to her, and she did not know what exactly Natasha meant by just one letter.

  Natasha swept a hand across her and started again. Yelena furrowed her brow as she felt the letters across her back.

  “Love,” Yelena spoke, and Natasha started writing again, her finger moving carefully along Yelena’s skin.

  “You,” Yelena finished, and she quickly realized that Natasha had written her a message. Goosebumps covered Yelena’s back, and Yelena moved her head so that her chin was on top of Natasha’s leg. She looked up at the redhead, feeling her heart overflowing with pure adoration. Natasha was looking down at her softly, her eyes warm with care.

  Yelena felt her lips tugging down at the corners just a little, and she valiantly fought the tears of love, happiness, and awe that were threatening to come over her. She moved a bit closer to Natasha, burying her face into the redhead’s stomach and wrapping her arms around Natasha’s waist slowly and tightly.

  She ordinarily would not have cried at her sister telling her that she loved her, but somehow, this time felt so much more meaningful. It was through that physical contact and affection that Yelena so craved and needed, and the fact that Natasha had somehow combined verbal and physical methods to tell her how she felt was almost more than Yelena could take.

  “Ya tebya lyublyu, Natashka,” Yelena spoke against Natasha, and Natasha ran her fingers through Yelena’s hair before gently pulling Yelena’s shirt back down over her back.

  “Ya tozhe tebya lyublyu, milaya devushka,” Natasha reciprocated, and Yelena just pressed herself against Natasha harder, feeling her body as it moved with her breaths.

  After a long moment of this and when Yelena was sure she could trust her voice again, she pulled away from Natasha and rolled over so that she was laying on her back with her head in Natasha’s lap.

  “Wait… Isn’t it your turn?” Yelena questioned softly with a slight quirk of her eyebrow, trying to convey more chill about this whole thing than she was really feeling. Natasha chuckled a little, reciprocating the eyebrow raise.

  “Sure,” Natasha replied easily, and Yelena sat up from her place in Natasha’s lap and straightening her legs on the couch so that Natasha could lay across her. Yelena just watched her expectantly, and Natasha smiled softly before laying her head down in Yelena’s lap carefully, her arms brought up so that her hands could gently hold onto Yelena’s leg.

  Yelena softly pulled back Natasha’s shirt and looked down at the slightly scarred canvas before her. She quietly thought for a moment before a wicked smirk came onto her face. She began to trace the word.

  Natasha was quiet for a moment, and Yelena finally reached the last letter, waiting eagerly for Natasha’s response. Sure enough, Natasha quickly caught on, and she spun on her side, looking up at Yelena with mock offense.

  “Poser?!”

  Yelena just cackled.

#yelena belova #natasha romanov #natasha romanoff #widow sisters #black widow #black widow 2021 #marvel #marvel fic #marvel fanfic #black widow fic #black widow fanfic #friendship #family #platonic #touch starved #sisters #fluff

[lightsovermonaco]

His Good Sweater: Chapter 9

Masterlist

As always thank you to my beautiful bestie @acollectionofficsandshit you can also thank her for all the Max content in this chapter. Its a long one, enjoy!

Word Count: 9.6k

Recommended song: “Hate the way” by G-Easy and blackbear

The one thing that never failed to lift your spirits was your dad's homemade blueberry chocolate chip pancakes. Whenever you were upset as a kid, whether it be your team losing a sporting event, your high-school boyfriend dumping you for the head cheerleader, or getting rejected from an ivy league college you never expected to get into in the first place, his pancakes had been there to cushion the fall. Clever as he was, he always messed them up in some insignificant way like leaving off the whipped cream and hiding the container so you were forced to talk to him in order to remedy it. Then he would crack some stupid joke or cheesy pun that would just barely have the ghost of a smile curling your lips.

Blueberry chocolate chip pancakes were no match for the heartbreak of losing your best friend.

The morning after, you only trudge to the kitchen when your stomach's demands to be fed become too loud to ignore. A steaming pile of fluffy pancakes sits at your usual spot, no syrup in sight. You don't have the energy to find your dad and ask where he's hidden it, instead picking at them. You knew the flavor should be fruity and sweet but every bite tastes like ash. One pancake is all you can manage before nausea roils, threatening to make your meager brunch resurface. 

"Some is better than none," Ben murmurs behind you and you drop your chin in the barest of nods. "We can save the rest and you can warm them up later."

"Thanks," you mumble when he takes your plate. You pull your blanket tight around your shoulders as your gaze turns to the window while your brother washes your dishes, wishing for all the world that you could make your uncooperative limbs move and help him but the mental effort it requires is too taxing. Instead you stay curled up on the chair, the noises of the house waking up around you a dull buzz in your ears. At some point your mother kisses your head and hustles out the door to work, her husband close behind. Ben is the last to leave and is reluctant to do so.

"Promise you'll text me if you need me," he says. "Mom already gave me permission to cut class after trigonometry."

"Sure." You both know it's a lie and a bad one at that. Your voice is dull and flat, completely void of emotion. 

"Mom said she's coming home early anyway,” he tries. “Something about overstaffing at the greenhouse."

"Okay."

The mechanical spooling of the garage door tells you he's finally gone. Your elbows slide forward until your head rests on the table, unable to hold it up any longer.

Every fiber of your being yearns for him, to hear the distinct r's and flowery lilt of his accent as he comforts you through the heartbreak, always knowing exactly what to say. It was second nature to call one another when either of you had had a bad day or a good day or just a normal day - you'd talked so often that last year you had convinced your parents to add international minutes to your phone plan. 

Your fingers itch to dial the number you had long since memorized, knowing it would ring no more than twice before he picked up. He never let it go to voicemail unless he absolutely couldn't avoid it and you had a hunch he was waiting for your call.

Despite knowing better, you scroll through the messages on your phone. Love was evident in each witty remark and wish goodnight, pulling at your heartstrings. Your finger hovers over the delete conversation button, and after a minute of debate, you can't bring yourself to do it. You would allow yourself one reprieve to look back on and remember the good.

It would be so much easier if he had given you a reason to hate him. If he'd cheated or intentionally led the media to your house, hating him would be easy. You wouldn't have to admit that you still loved him because his betrayal would have yanked out the newly blooming bud of love you nurtured and crushed the fragile petals. Instead, you were left knowing that it had been your choice to inflict damage in him. You had no right to seek comfort in his arms or even ask how he was doing. You deserved to be miserable for causing him to feel the same way. 

Yuki is the first to check in on you. You don’t know what he expects; you lie through your teeth when you tell him you were fine.

The press is asking me for my thoughts. No idea why. I told them not to stick their noses where they don't belong.

At least someone had the guts to stand up to those bloodsuckers. Yuki was the last person you'd suspect to do so, but the scrappy twenty-something continued to surprise you.

Thanks, you type back. How is he?

You hesitate. You didn't really want to know the answer. Pierre was devastated and just as broken as you are. You delete the last part and opt to refrain from subjecting yourself to biting off more than you could chew.

I'm here if you need me, is Yuki's reply.

Charles, Daniel, and his newly promoted girlfriend were the next ones to text you, all offering varying degrees of support. Daniel's friend was the one that offered to sucker punch anyone that came near you without your permission, and actually dragged a single huff of laughter from your aching lungs.

I'm good thanks. But if I need a bodyguard you'll be first on the list.

Just because Daniel can lift me with one arm doesn't mean I'm not punchy!

I believe you.

Spent, you set your phone down and retreat under the down comforter. The bright pink clashed with your earthy decor, but at least the old blanket didn't smell like Pierre. Your mother had taken it upon herself to erase all trace of him from your room when she had managed to coax you into a shower, and the half hour you had spent letting the scalding water run over your skin had given her plenty of time to do so. The absence of him hurts almost as much as the trace of cedar you know you're imagining when you breathe deep.

It has to be impossible for so much agony to be contained in your body. No matter how much you try, the tears won't stop flowing because Pierre's crushed expression had taken up residence at the forefront of your consciousness. 

It didn't help that so many of your recent memories were touched by his presence. Getting into university served to remind you of the ecstatic call you'd gotten after his race that Sunday, voice strained with a mix of excitement for you and the disappointment of his race ending crash on the opening lap. Even something as simple as staring at the saggy bean bag chair in the corner brought back the memory of the countless times he had lounged there, sprawled out like he owned it.

Max's text brings you briefly back to reality.

You doing okay? Dan told me what happened.

No, was all you say back. Within a minute, Max's face occupies your screen. You sigh but accept the call, laying the phone on the pillow.

"I don't feel like talking, Max."

"That bad huh?" He asks, concern lacing his usually chipper voice.

"Yeah. That bad." As if that summed up getting your heart torn to shreds.

He's uncharacteristically quiet for a beat. "Wanna hear about Vic's day? She had some crazy clients at her salon- it'll take your mind off it."

"I guess," you say, utterly nonplussed. You could care less if he kept talking or not, you wouldn't be paying attention. He prattles on for a few minutes, seemingly unaffected by your silence as his words pass through one ear and out the other.

"Told you it was crazy," he says finally, your cue to respond. You hum noncommittally and Max just sighs.

"Look, I don't know how I can help you unless you come here. I know you have a flight booked- do you still wanna come to the gala? My date's been stolen so I'm in need of one."

"Who stole your-"

The realization hits you before you can finish. Pierre. Pierre stole Max's sister and left him without a date. Something about his willingness to replace you so quickly rubs you the wrong way. It shouldn't have been so easy for him to find someone new; he should be hurting just as much as you. Fundamentally, you knew nothing would happen between Pierre and Victoria. She wouldn't go for him out of respect for both of you and you were thankful in the knowledge that it was completely platonic. Still, it was like rubbing salt in a wound. 

"You know what? I'll go." It was the most you'd said all day, your throat scratchy with disuse. Max whoops on the other line and you could almost see him punching the air in victory.

"Great! When's your flight get in? I'll bring the Acura and pick you up." 

You put him on speaker and login to the airlines website to punch in the flight number. Last night you'd debated canceling the flight that Pierre had paid for, determined to stay home and be miserable. Looking back you were glad you'd trusted your gut and left the reservation untouched. If he could find someone else to attend the gala with, so could you. "I land in Nice at noon on Friday. It'll be a short flight, I can text you when we take off."

"Sounds good. I'll set up the spare room for you. Victoria is staying here too, I'm sure she would love to help you get ready and do whatever it is girls do before fancy events."

"Hey, Max?"

"Whats up?"

You trace patterns through the condensation left by the glass on your nightstand. "Thank you. For understanding."

"That's what friends are for," he assures you. "Is there anything you wanna talk about now? Or are you planning to wait until you're here?"

"Ben's been keeping an eye on me. I'm okay for now." Better now that you had something to look forward to.

"All you have to do is call," he promises. "I'll listen, I don't have anything going on this week besides streaming."

You latch on to the small redirection and run with it. "You and the twitch quartet?"

"They've been kind enough to allow me to join them on the sim this week, yeah."

"I'll try to catch a race. No promises though." 

"See you Friday. Try to contain your excitement."

Your lips twitch upward. "Bye Max."

**********

The rest of the week was more of the same. You stayed home and your family dealt with the swarms of people that still gathered on the lawn each morning not so patiently waiting for you to tell your side of the story. You had decided that the best course of action was to keep your mouth shut and let them figure out for themselves that there was no longer a story to report thanks to the wedge they had driven in your relationship.

By the time Ben drives you to the airport Friday the buzz has died down. You hug your brother tight before checking in for the flight and texting Max. His response is immediate, letting you know he's excited to see you.

You wish you could return the sentiment. You wanted to see your friend, sure, but you were beginning to dread the upcoming gala. Max would be your crutch and you knew he was okay with that, but it still felt wrong. 

Unlike your brother, Max was waiting at the curb when you arrived in Nice. A nondescript cap was perched on his head, the oversized sunglasses he wore hiding his eyes from passersby. His gleaming orange peel of a car attracted more attention than he did for once, people stopping to ogle the Acura as they came and went.

"Hey you," Max greets, a broad grin causing his trademark dimple to appear as he wraps you in a rare hug. You cling to him, throat going tight at the intimacy of it. Max wasn't a physical person by any stretch; if he was hugging you this tightly it meant he knew how broken you were.

He waited for you to break contact first, giving you all the time you need. You sniff and wipe the single tear that had somehow escaped and laugh lightly.

"Hey," you say, voice scratchy. "Thanks for picking me up." 

He waves a hand, brushing it off. "Vic wanted to come but she changed her mind when I told her I was driving."

"Probably a smart choice," you observe, letting him pop the trunk- which was in the front of the car, since the Acura NSX was a mid-engined beast of a Japanese supercar- "and considering your choice of car, she wouldn't have fit anyway."

"This is true." He starts the engine, the roar of which makes a poor old woman a few yards away drop her purse.

The drive back is near silent, broken only by Max's occasional quips about a landmark or an observation about someone's driving. It was impossible for any driver to turn off the analytical part of their brain, their Formula 1 habits crossing into their daily lives. 

When Max parks at the curb outside his apartment, you move to open the door but he hits the lock button. You glance over your shoulder at him and quirk a brow.

"Am I your prisoner?"

"Are you gonna talk about what happened?"

Sighing, you sink back into the seat. The way the bolstering hugs your sides almost makes you believe you could fade into it if you try hard enough. "I wasn't really planning on it."

It had only been a handful of days since you had broken it off, the wound still leaking fresh blood when you poked at it. It refused to scab over or give you any kind of reprieve from the torture.

"You know you'll have to face him tomorrow at some point. He'll want to talk to you."

"That's why I'm going with you. You won't have a problem telling him to leave me alone."

Max sighs. "Yeah, I suppose. If that's what you think is best."

The trudge up the stairs and subsequent silent elevator ride allows your thoughts to wander to Victoria. It wasn't her fault that Pierre had asked her to come with him after you'd canceled, after all she was already planning on going and the late notice meant it was likely no one else could make it, but it didn't stop the pang of jealousy that rocketed through you each time you ruminate on it.

It didn't help when she wrapped you in a hug the moment she saw you and whispered an apology in your ear, like she knew she'd done something wrong. Tears spring to your eyes again and Victoria shoots Max a leave us alone look.

"Uh, I'm gonna hop on the sim. Help yourself to whatever is in the fridge if you're hungry."

"Thanks Max." Your eyes are pinned to a smudge of dirt on the wood floor, safely out of range of anything triggering. Keeping it together was more of a struggle than you'd expected.

"I hope you don't hate me," Victoria starts genuine concern lacing the words. "It was just easiest-"

"I know," you cut in. "And I don't." Your smile is tight, not quite hitting home as she returns it.

"Well then. Let's figure out how we're gonna do your hair tomorrow, shall we?"

**********

The dress was a single, simple piece of fabric, spun of sunset orange and free of any bells or whistles. The feather light chiffon hugged every supple curve through your hips until flaring out slightly at the bottom just enough to allow you range of motion. The deep vee of the neckline prominently displayed your cleavage, toeing the line between attention grabbing and scandal starting and leaving little to the imagination. The back dropped low, leaving the elegant curve of your spine free to be kissed by the salty Mediterranean breeze.

The dress is nothing special compared to the thousand dollar pieces that the other boy's dates would be wearing, but you didn't have the money- or the will- to find something new. It by no means broke the bank when you picked it up from the second hand store last year, but it looked the part. It had been a showstopper at the spring formal you'd originally worn it to and judging by Max's reaction, it still was.

He let out a low whistle when you stepped into the living room. "I'm sorry, did you pick that out with me in mind?" He laughs and despite yourself, heat rises to your cheeks. You hated being the center of attention, even among friends. "It's the perfect shade of orange to match my tie. I swear I didn't plan it that way!"

"I know you didn't." You give him a forced smile, praying he doesn't call you out on it. The dress you wore hadn't been your first choice. The one you originally planned to wear still sat in your closet at home collecting dust. It had been the perfect shade of blue to compliment Pierre's sky eyes, but it didn't match Max's deeper ocean blue. So at home it had stayed, and you had chosen the orange one because it made the necklace at your throat pop.

Your fingers engulf the stone before you can stop yourself, as they always do when your thoughts wander to him. Him, because you could scarcely think his name before your heart wretches at the reminder of what you'd lost. Flashes of bright smiles and soft kisses filter through your mind, making you lock up. You swear you can feel the ghost of plush lips to your throat and the scrape of callouses over the curve of your spine. Your eyes fall shut, desperate to get lost in the idea of him like you used to.

"You good?"

Max's quiet words startle you back into the present. No, you were in no way shape or form good, but you had no choice to fall back on the familiar mask of humor to cover up your inner turmoil.

"The real question is are you?" You smirk and look him over. The Red Bull navy suit strains over his broad shoulders, suggesting he had put on muscle since the last time he'd been forced into it. "You look stiff as a board in that tux."

"I feel so awkward." He straightens the suit coat and absentmindedly lifts a hand to tousle his hair. You grab his wrist just in time to keep him from ruining his sister's hard work and shoot him a chiding look. He grins sheepishly and lowers his hand.

"Vic would kill me if you got to the gala looking like you got run over." 

"That's a good point." He offers you his arm and you accept the lifeline he unwittingly offers you. "But I refuse to leave the windows up on this beautiful night, so we'll test how well it'll hold."

You quirk an eyebrow at him. "You're driving us there?"

"Well duh. I always drive when I'm at home."

You glance sidelong at the glaringly orange Acura parked at the curb a few floors below. Your dress would blend right in with the paint, but perhaps that was a good thing. It would provide that much more of a shock factor when you arrived and stepped out.

"Just don't crash out on the hairpin," you tease half heartedly. 

He rolls his eyes. "At least it's just the two of us so I don't have to call an uber. Vic's getting picked up by-'' Max cuts himself off and gives you an apologetic smile.

"You can say his name," you whisper, eyes trained on the tile of the hallway as you walk. "It's not like he's gone."

"Getting picked up by... Pierre," Max tries, carefully monitoring his neutral tone. God, you thought you could handle it but you can't, stumbling over your own feet with only Max's grip on your arm to catch you.

He'd dance with Vic tonight, and probably countless other women, his hands drifting over their bodies like they'd done on yours only days ago. You'd be forced to watch from the sidelines and make small talk that no one would remember come morning, utterly unable to do anything about it. At least Daniel’s girlfriend would be there to be the voice of reason, if you could peel her away from Daniel long enough to speak with her for any length of time.

Max was uncharacteristically quiet on the ride to the venue, leaving you to study the city as he drove. Few yachts were left in the harbor as the sun was swallowed by the sea, the owners undoubtedly set sail for a weekend getaway. Your gaze involuntarily searched for the slip that held Charles' Ferrari red speedboat that you'd visited countless times with Pierre. The eyesore was hard to miss when surrounded by its monotone brethren, memories flooding back in droves at the sight of it.

Sighing, you turn away to glimpse what you can of the city through the ridiculously tiny sliver of windshield. How anyone could confidently drive the Acura while having so little field of vision was beyond you. It was probably second nature to Max, who weaves through the narrow streets with practiced ease and barely lets off the gas through the corners. 

The city of Monaco rarely slept, and tonight was no different. Soft yellow fluorescent glow seeps from high rise balconies, the occupants soaking up the last dregs of sunlight before heading out to the casinos and clubs. People spilled out of cafes onto the sidewalks, their laughter lingering on the breeze as you speed past.

The list of people you trust enough to get in the car with and let them drive with such intensity is short: Max and Pierre. Not even Daniel made the final cut, not when his then not-girlfriend had recounted the tale of him losing the rear of his McLaren 570s at a track day and nearly sending them into the wall. According to her, he'd been too busy ogling her to keep his full attention on the road, but it was enough for you to question his judgement at times.

If you close your eyes, you could pretend it was someone else next to you, cutting through the gears like a hot knife through butter and coaxing every inch of performance out of the car that he could with the light traffic. You draw a surf-scented breath deep, lungs aching with the effort. 

Max joins the queue of cars waiting to park outside the venue, your attention trained on the guests stepping out of cars and climbing the wide set of marble steps leading to the sleek glass building. The modern structure is slightly out of place among the Roman-esque buildings surrounding it but the air of importance it exudes overrules any who dare say it doesn't belong.

"I can't tell you how glad I am that there's an open bar," Max remarks, hanging his head out the window to wave at someone. "It makes these events so much easier."

"You're telling me," you mumble, searching involuntarily for a familiar head of dusty blond hair in the droves of people arriving. Instead of sight, it's the unforgettable rumble of his Civic Type R's exhaust that alerts you to his arrival. Your head whips around, eyes eating up the pearl white paint of Pierre's favored car as it slides in behind you. You silently thank whatever deity is listening that his windshield is tinted, protecting you from seeing the smirk you are certain is playing on his lips.

Once upon a time, the cockpit of that car had been your favorite place in the world. You'd spent countless hours inside it eating shitty gas station cuisine and singing along to the radio at the top of your lungs as Pierre drove you to whatever adventure he had planned for the day. 

Max waves at your- his friend, you remind yourself sharply- and revs his Acura in response. He leaves the keys with the valet, picking up on the tension in your shoulders as the white car parks behind you. Max tugs your arm in attempt to turn you away, but your feet are rooted to the spot. 

“I see you found another date-” The flash of a grin on Pierre's face as he steps out is immediately dashed when he notices you on Max's arm.

If looks could kill, Max would keel over then and there. A muscle in Pierre's jaw flutters as he takes in the sight of the two of you together, your hand on the Dutchman's forearm and your matching attire looking for all the world as if it was purposefully coordinated. 

Max lifts his chin, spine going straight under Pierre's threatening glare. “Her airfare was already paid for and she already had the dress. Someone had to take her.”

Your stomach sinks; the last thing you wanted to do was become a point of contention between the two boys, but you refused to apologize for at least attempting to enjoy yourself. 

Pierre doesn't speak again, only nods to Max and pointedly avoids your stare. He tosses the keys to the smart-dressed kid serving as his valet, coming around to open Victoria's door. With his back turned to you, you take a moment to study the crisp white suit he's chosen for tonight. You had always told him black wasn't his color and he seemed to have taken it to heart. White was what you loved seeing him in, and the tight cut brought back memories of a different type of suit in an entirely different city only a few weeks ago. You'd peeled him out of that Alpha Tauri race suit the moment he made it to the trailer, eager to worship him after his podium. You'd be lying if you said it hasn't been the best sex of your life.

"Come on," Max urges, placing a chaste hand on your upper back and turning you around. He leads you up the stairs, his comforting touch never leaving your skin for a moment. The callouses were all wrong, the fingers too broad to be who you wanted it to be, and yet you couldn't help but imagine it was Pierre leading you up, stopping to smile for the few cameras scattered around.

Flashes spot your vision as you pull your face into an expression of excitement. Max murmurs something in your ear that you think is encouragement but the din of reporters is too deafening to be sure.

"How come you aren't with Pierre?"

The shouted question comes from an unknown assailant but it strikes you like a physical blow. You freeze, mouth going dry as you search for a suitable excuse. Max grants you the space of a single heartbeat to respond before he does so on your behalf.

"How about you mind your own damn business and worry about your cheating wife?"

The man who had bombarded you goes slack jawed, Max's wild guess clearly somehow hitting him just as hard as he had hit you.

"Keep walking," he urges you, leading you through the blinding sea of flashing lights. When you hear the same question directed at Pierre, his flippant laugh grates on your nerves.  

You don't have it in you to appreciate the grand architecture of the entrance hall, too busy trying to keep your breathing in check. Max steers you off to the side and places his hands on your shoulders.

"Look at me," he demands, and you drag your eyes up to his face. "Breathe. He's hurting just as bad as you, only difference is he's better at hiding it. Just enjoy the night okay? I'll grab you a drink and we can find Daniel and his friend and you two can catch up."

You nod, placing a hand on your throat. The delicate chain of the necklace is a vice around your neck, the reminder of him pulling it tight. Your pulse hammers beneath your fingers and you focus on it until it slows. "Get me whatever you're having."

Max disappears in the crowd, and you take a seat at the bench tucked in the corner. No one pays you any heed as they walk past, entranced by the elegant decor and fragrant florals. Your head falls forward to rest in your hands and you struggle to take deep, calming breaths.

Pierre was here. Inhale.

He looked happy. Exhale.

He was getting by. Inhale.

You could get by, too. Exhale.

Renewed, you glance up in time to find Max standing before you with a drink of dark liquid adorned with maraschino cherries in each hand. He extends one glass to you and you don't bother to question what it is before swallowing half in one go. "Better?"

"Much." You stand and brush out the wrinkles in your dress. "Where are we sitting?"

"Er, about that," Max starts, rubbing his neck sheepishly. "They put two teams at each table. We're at the Red Bull Alpha Tauri table."

"I see." You take another deep, steadying breath, letting the anxiety ebbing in your veins fade out with the exhale. It was times like this that you channeled Daniel a bit. It sounded silly and you would never admit it, but the slogans on his helmets worked if you focused on them hard enough. All good, all ways.

If Pierre could get through tonight, so could you.

“I can try to see if I can switch tables-”

"It's fine," you say and down the rest of the drink. “I can handle it.”

Max shifts on his feet, his discomfort something you rarely see from him. He usually excelled at keeping a straight face in uncomfortable situations but it seems that your unease rubbed off on him. “We should get going then, dinner will be served any minute.”

You once again take the arm he offers you, the liquor in your veins already granting you false courage. “We would have time to mingle if you hadn’t taken the scenic route.”

“It was nice out,” he protests, and pulls you to a halt when he spots Daniel across the hall. His girlfriend waves at you with a sad smile. She gestures between the two of you to indicate that you’ll talk later before Daniel pulls her towards the McLaren table. That boy was punctual to a fault and would be caught dead before he was late to anything.

Thankfully, the two of you arrive before Victoria and her date and are able to secure seats that ensure there’s a buffer between you. By some small miracle Christian Horner and his wife were absent and instead a few engineers and their significant others sat at the packed table. Max greets Gianpiero while you take your seat, happy to observe.

“Hey!”

You twist in time to see Yuki’s short frame emerge from the crowd and point to the empty seat to your right. “This one taken?”

You shake your head, standing to give him a quick hug. “How are you doing? Where’s your date?”

“Ah, she couldn’t make it. Had some family stuff to take care of. You look great, by the way.”

You dip your chin in thanks, unsure how else to respond. He was in a white suit that you were sure would wind up stained five minutes into dinner. “Did they mandate that you wear white?”

He shakes his head with a rueful smile. “Honestly, it’s the only one I own. I haven't been to enough events to build up my closet yet."

"Well I think it's…"

You spot Pierre before he sees you. His brow is slightly creased as he hunts for the correct table using the same focused determination as when driving his Alpha. For a split second, he meets your gaze. The cacophony of the event fades to background noise and suddenly it's just the two of you and you damn near lift your hand in a wave. You're positive he can see your heart beating out of your chest like in an old cartoon as you curl your fingers into a fist in your lap. Your restraint proves fatal, the floor falling out from beneath your feet when he drops your stare. This was your new normal, you remind yourself. Stolen glances were all you would get.

"I can move," Yuki says, starting to rise. You grip his wrist, holding him in place.

"Please don't." The only other open seats were across the table, and at least then you didn't have to worry about brushing elbows with him all night long.

Yuki nods, slowly settling back in. Max finally takes his seat after giving your shoulder a supportive squeeze.

"You don't have to say anything to him," he reminds you, barely audible over the scrape of chairs and various chatter.

You find anywhere else to look as Pierre pulls out Vic's chair for her and makes his rounds to greet everyone. Daniel and his girlfriend are seated a few tables away and you distract yourself by attempting to read their lips. You manage a few minutes of tenuous peace, catching snippets of Daniel's cheesy jokes and her disapproving, yet flirty, responses.

"Damn, we clean up well, huh?"

You squeeze your eyes shut at the sound of home. His words are honey and you lap them up like you'd never tasted anything sweeter. They weren't even directed at you and yet somehow you twist them to fit your narrative.

Pierre stands at the bottom of the stairs like a chaste high school prom date patiently waiting for your grand entrance. He checks his watch and rakes a hand through his messy hair. You stifle your laugh with a hand, amused by his unnecessary nervous energy.

Taking mercy on him, you clear your throat. His gaze snaps up to you, mouth falling open. You take your time gathering the orange fabric of your dress and descending the stairs, savoring the way he eats you up. He was resplendent in his crisp white tuxedo and you had half a mind to make him late for the gala and strip him out of it then and there and devour him.

Your heels clack on the marble floor of his entirely too fancy apartment and you pause to do a little spin for him, earning you an appreciative whistle for your trouble. A laugh bubbles out of you and you place your hands on his shoulders. His own settle on your waist to pull you flush against him, his body heat soaking through the thin fabric of your dress to warm your core.

"Damn, we clean up well, huh?"

You start when knuckles graze the back of your bare neck. The touch is there and gone but you know immediately that it's Pierre. It's slight enough to be brushed off as accidental to anyone else, but nothing was accidental with Pierre. The barely there contact conveys more than any words ever could. 

He still loved you. You looked stunning. He wishes you were still his so he could prove it to you. All this and so much more contained in a half second brush of his skin to yours.

It all comes back to you in a rush, the emotion you'd so carefully tucked away in a locked box in the back of your mind finally set free. His touch ignites any other thought in your mind that isn't him, burning it away until it's ashes on the wind. 

Despite your better judgement, you lean into him, giving him permission to unravel you. This time you sigh when his fingers ghost over your skin, electricity sparking in their wake. You didn't care who might be watching; the tiny touches were slowly repairing your shattered heart. Your traitorous mind replaces his fingers with the brush of his lips to your nape, imagining the heat as he slides the strap of your dress off your shoulder, lips moving to follow.

You bite your lip to stifle a groan when his heat is withdrawn, leaving you feeling inexplicably naked. You open your eyes to find Victoria's pitying stare paired with an apologetic smile. Max nudges you with his elbow, and you realize someone has addressed you.

"Um, what?"

"I said I like how you guys coordinated outfits," Pierre repeats and openly prods your shoulder. "Obviously Max chose the color."

His tone is playful, but his words are clipped in a way only you understand. Craning your neck, you twist to look up at him. His eyes are cloudy and his smile doesn't reach them, more for show than anything else. "It was an accident."

"Doesn't look that way."

Your retort is ready on your tongue but he doesn't give you a chance to reply before retreating to his seat. His ability to act as if nothing has changed astounds you, as your head is still reeling from the pinpricks of his skin on yours. Instead of being rendered speechless, he strikes up a conversation with Yuki about the Alpha's performance, leaving out the confidential details but giving enough away that it surprises you.

The sheer fact that he can so easily switch off whatever feelings he harbors is unfair. The sensation of his fingers on your neck still lingers and it's all you can do to keep from stepping around the table and slotting yourself between his legs like you had in that bar in London. Your nails bite into your palms, listening in if only for his voice to wash over you and calm your racing heart.

When he mentions the rake angle, you know it's just to mislead anyone who might be eavesdropping. He'd told you the exact angle in the past, and it certainly was not one degree, and it did not cause the level of understeer he was describing.

"The understeer comes from improper tire selection," you blurt. "And driver error."

All eyes turn to you and you straighten. You knew enough about the construction of a Formula 1 car to be positive your assessment was correct. You were almost as certain that he'd said it to force you into speaking to him whether you liked it or not.

"What was that?"

If Pierre could torment you with his subtle touches, you could do the same and call him out when he was wrong.

"Driver error caused the rear end to slide out around that turn in Japan, not the rake angle. That's got nothing to do with it. Your tires were blistered because of you taking an imperfect racing line and they were old. You miscalculated the level of traction they'd give you."

Why no one else had pointed it out was beyond you.

"So you're an engineer now?" Pierre challenges, crossing his arms. Something about the arrogance radiating from him rubbed you the wrong way. You let all the emotion of the past few days surface and add fuel to the fire.

"No, but I've learned enough to see through the bullshit drivers spin to mislead other teams."

Max murmurs your name in warning but your frustration is boiling over. He replaced you tonight, didn't even pause to consider going alone and instead choosing to take Victoria. Sure, it had been your fault that he was dateless, but that didn't give him the right to hurt you too. He knew it would destroy you to see him with anyone else even if it was completely platonic, but he did it anyway.

"Why don't you tell me where I should brake on turn ten since you're an expert all of a sudden?" Victoria lays a hand on his arm but he yanks it out of her grip. "What crack in the pavement? Or is it a mark on the barrier? Drive one lap in my car and then you can tell me how to drive."

It wasn't your analysis that had upset him. You'd done so plenty of times and he had always taken your criticism with an open mind, using it to tweak his driving style to improve his lap time or turn it into a teaching experience so you could learn. No, judging by the way his eyes are lined with silver that he fights to blink away, it's your betrayal that upsets him and rightfully so. You glance around the table but no one is willing to meet your eyes save for Max, who angles his head as if to say fight for it.

But you can't. It's monumentally easier to let Pierre win and sweep it under the rug than to address the deeper issue. "I was trying to help," you say lamely, picking at the salad in front of you.

"You don't get to do that anymore."

The venomous words hit like knives, knocking the breath out of you. Your mouth hangs open like a fish gasping for air but any reply you think up dies on your tongue.

As the music fades out and a man climbs up onto the stage, Pierre gets up and leaves. You track his progress as he weaves through tables, noting Daniel reaching for him as he passes. You flinch when the balcony door slams behind him, an astonished murmur rocking through the crowd.

"You should probably talk to him," Max whispers.

You shake your head, not trusting yourself to speak. You had no idea what you would say. 'Sorry' was insignificant and 'I love you' would be cruel when the barest of thought regarding how the media treated you made your stomach churn. 

Max pulls his phone out under the table and you think you see Charles' name on the screen. Good; someone had to make sure Pierre didn't do anything he would regret in the morning and if it wasn't you, Charles was the next best chaperone. A minute later, the Ferrari driver leaves his seat too, exiting the same way as Pierre. 

Focusing on what's said on stage proves fruitless. Try as you might, your attention is trained on the side door Pierre had disappeared through, praying he returns despite knowing it would mean more barbed words hurled at you. Neither he nor Charles return at any point during the presentation. His absence was quickly becoming a gaping black hole, swallowing up any semblance of sanity you had managed to gather in preparation for tonight.

"Try to have some fun," Max says, nudging you with an elbow. "As soon as this guy shuts up I’ll get us some more drinks and then we can eat and get out on the dance floor and forget about everything, yeah?"

You nod. You already feel the buzz of the first drink, and one or two more would push you thoroughly over the edge into blissful forgetfulness. "I don't wanna be sad anymore."

**********

He didn't know where he was going. All he knew was that he had to get away from you before he said something that would tear whatever hope he held of repairing what was between you to ribbons. He registers Daniel's low, "Gas, you good?" as he breezes past, but doesn't pause to answer. His sights are locked on the wide, carved oak doors that lead to fresh air.

The breath whooshes out of him when he flings open the balcony doors. They slam behind him and he winces. Chalk that up as something else for Helmut to pick him apart for on Monday.

Pierre rakes a trembling hand through his hair and rests his elbows on the railing, sucking in lungfuls of air like he'd just surfaced from a dive in the harbor. 

When you'd agreed to come to the gala with him, he had been overjoyed. You hadn't made it to the winter gala earlier this year due to a last minute exam and he had sulked the entire night. He still had the place card embossed with your name in the fishbowl by his door, the sizable container nearly overflowing with memories of you. Everything from forgotten earrings to plastic hotel key cards filled the bowl and it was a bright reminder of your adventures together. His plan had been to add another place card to the mix after tonight but after what he'd just said to you, he'd rather forget today ever happened. 

He fucking hurt. Everything just hurt, from the shirt collar scratching at his neck to the bone deep ache that had started when he laid eyes on you on those steps, arm locked with Max's. You'd stolen the words from his mouth, the jab he'd planned to toss at Max dying at the sight of you. 

He hadn't expected you to come tonight. Despite anyone's objections, he'd been fully prepared to get completely shit faced to the point that the ghost of your skin no longer haunted his fingertips and your voice no longer sang in his head. But seeing your damned face had shattered the false reality he had constructed, the one where you never broke him and left him scrambling to piece himself back together.

The universe had dealt him another low blow when he discovered Red Bull and Alpha Tauri would be at the same table and he'd be forced to endure your presence at arms length, close enough to touch but absolutely not allowed to do so. It was his own personal hell, constructed solely to punish him for whatever transgressions he'd made in his life.

And that fucking dress. 

The orange painted the aquamarine charm at the hollow of your throat in sharp relief, showing it off like he somehow still owned you. If you had arrived with him, he would have already led you back to the Civic and bunched that damned dress up past your hips to drag his favorite sounds from you with his tongue. If he could just get you alone, he's sure it wouldn't take more than a single touch to have you crashing into him and begging for more.

Seeing you with Max tonight paints an entirely different picture.

It's Max he sees tearing off the dress at the end of the night when you get back to his apartment. Max's hands slide over your hips and you laugh, walking back so you can keep your lips on his as he slams the door shut behind you. You dip your head back when he presses you to the wall, Max unfaltering as his lips and teeth trace the curve of your exposed throat and he slips the straps of the matching dress of your shoulders to let it pool at your feet. Max's name breezes past your lips on a shaky exhale as you become putty beneath his fingers.

No matter how loud Pierre calls your name, you don't hear him, instead cupping the back of the Dutchman's head and pulling him in for a heated kiss. When you do finally notice him observing from afar, agony wracking his body, all you do is grin. It feels real, even though Pierre is certain it's a crazed fever dream, his mind spinning his worst fear to life: you seeking comfort in the company of someone that wasn't him.

Pierre starts when the door squeaks open, the nightmare thankfully dissolving. Charles steps out clad head to toe in blazing Ferrari red and instantly he knows who sent him. The thought alone stokes rage in his chest, the image of your lips on Max's still fresh.

"Not as easy as you expected it to be, is it?" He asks, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

"Fuck off," Pierre growls and immediately regrets it. Beyond you, Charles was his closest friend. They had known each other for ages. It wasn’t a friendship he was willing to sacrifice just because he felt like shit. Pierre sighs and throws him an apologetic glance. "No it's not."

"Why don't you talk to her?"

"She doesn't want to fucking talk, Charles. Take one look at her, she's hanging on Max like she can't get enough of him." Pierre hangs his head in his hands, emotions shifting faster than he did on race day. "I can't go back in there and watch her choose him over me."

"You don't really believe that bullshit, do you?" Charles asks, joining him at the railing.

Not entirely, but he still struggled to understand your thought process. He thought he knew you, but you being here tonight when he had been certain you wouldn't be proved he didn't. 

"I don't know what to believe anymore. I thought it would be forever, that I'd finally found someone who didn't mind my lifestyle and accepted it for what it was, who loved me unconditionally. I thought she was my forever."

"You think she's done with you just because some assholes invaded her privacy?" Charles shakes his head. "She's loved you for a long time, years even. You haven't seen the looks she gives you, but the rest of us have. You hung the moon in her sky, Pierre. That kind of thing doesn't just get swept away by the breeze."

His shoulders curl inward in an attempt to hide the frustrated tear that escapes him. "What am I supposed to do?"

Charles shrugs. "I don't think there's a right answer to that. Try giving her some space. She didn't grow up in the spotlight like we did. It's not an easy adjustment for some people, mate. And blowing up on her when she tries to make conversation doesn't help anything," he says gently. "Let her figure it out and come to you when she's ready."

The concept of letting you go even temporarily was terrifying to him. Waiting on you to make the first move was even worse because he was setting his fate in your hands. 

"I miss her," he murmurs, turning his face to his friend.

"I know." Charles throws an arm around the taller man's shoulders and follows his gaze out over the tiered streets of Monaco's city center. "My suggestion is to throw yourself into the season. Show her you know how to fight, y'know?"

Pierre nods. He could do that. It was how he normally handled his problems anyway; let the track wick away whatever was on his mind and force him to hone in on the details surrounding him in each moment. 

"You ready to head inside?" Charles asks.

"I don't think I can go back just yet."

"Want me to hang out here with you?"

"No. I'll be back eventually."

Charles' hand falls from his shoulder after a short squeeze, the sound of a tinny voice over the speakers temporarily flooding the balcony as Charles returns to the banquet. Pierre allows himself a few more moments of reprieve before slipping back inside just as the applause starts. Rather than returning to the delicately portioned meal that sat cooling before his empty chair, he orders a drink. Whiskey on the rocks, his go to in times of crisis. He takes one sip before the reminder of you ordering it for him in London makes holding the glass of caramel liquid unbearable and he downs it in a single swallow, going back to order a beer instead.

He nurses the green bottle of Heineken as he leans against the wall until the meal is finished and the chit chat starts. You stand with Max, practically pressed against him as you snatch a flute of champagne from a passing server. You search the crowd, brows drawing together when you don't locate your quarry. Pierre had made sure that he was tucked out of the low lighting, unsure if he could survive you stealing worried glances at him all night. 

Charles winds his way over to pass off a roll he snagged from dinner, practically forcing the Frenchman to eat it before returning to his date. He nibbles at it absentmindedly, entirely too focused on you to divert an ounce of focus elsewhere.

Your dress is a glowing sun in a sea of earth tone garments, drawing his eye as you pull Max out onto the wood platform serving as the dance floor before the tables are fully cleared. The flush in your cheeks tells him you're deeper in your cups than you should be; Max didn't know your limit as well as he did. Three drinks was all you could manage before you got tipsy, five if you wanted to be completely blitzed. 

The lights dim and his hiding spot is no longer quite as good as the party lights sweep over him from time to time. Max places one hand on your hip and you place one on his shoulder and grin up at him. Judging by the fit of giggles that requires you to lean into Max for support, you were teetering dangerously on the edge of being wholly drunk. You throw your head back and laugh at whatever Max says in response to your fit, Pierre straining to hear the musical sound over the band. 

"Hey," Victoria says, breaking his concentration. "You wanna get out there?"

Pierre grimaces. He had managed to completely forget about her, too stuck in his own head. "Sorry, Vic. I don't think I'd be a very good partner tonight."

"No worries," she says, a soft, understanding smile on her lips. "I can keep myself busy."

Pierre nods his thanks, his attention immediately returning to the dance floor. Daniel and his girlfriend steal the show, both laughing as he dips and twirls her across the floor. 

Being together was so fucking easy for them, effortless in a way it wasn't for you and Pierre. They never once paid any heed to the photographers that swarmed them or the headlines printed about them, they just laughed the rumors off and carried on. No one could question their love for each other because they were vocal about it- sometimes annoyingly so- and Daniel was rarely seen in public without her at his side. They were always touching, holding hands or stealing kisses or even the near scandal of his hand blatantly on her ass at the podium a few races back, and neither of them cared.

Their love was all that mattered. They didn't care who knew it.

But you and Pierre were far too private to be like that, at least not when you were still trying to figure things out yourself. The first sign of outside pressure had you cracking, and he wouldn't stand for knowing he was the source of your pain.

He tries and fails to convince himself he isn't jealous of the way Dan's hand so easily glides under the navy blue silk of her dress to caress her back without a second thought, wishing he could do the same to you. If he's being honest, he's living vicariously through Daniel for the next few songs, pretending he was someone else observing you and himself on the dance floor instead. It almost works; the way she shudders when his lips graze her ear is strikingly similar to how you'd react. The smile she flashes up at him is agonizingly close to your own wicked grin.

When her mouth finds his, Pierre gathers his wits and turns away. Their blatant public affection flipped a switch inside him, disgust rocking through him for a split second before he pushed it away.

He was happy for them. He knew what a long, rocky road it had been for them to become lovers instead of friends, had firsthand knowledge of the stress they'd gone through before they'd finally admitted their feelings to each other, put their pride aside and got together. Pierre had been the one to offer her advice on a night not much different than this one months ago, helping repair the damage Daniel's idiotic, thoughtless words had caused. 

But Pierre had since become the person who was sickened at the sight of others in love. It reminded him that part of himself was missing and he hated it.

No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't keep his eyes from wandering back to you. You still occasionally scan the room as Max struggles to lead you through a dance. By some stroke of bad luck your gaze snags on him just as a spotlight illuminates his face and he grimaces. A slow blink is the only surprise you let show before laying your head on Max's shoulder. Jealousy spikes through him like wildfire, igniting his blood and tinging his vision with red.

He wants to march over and rip you off Max. He wants you tucked safely against him as his thumb rubs circles on the bare skin of the small of your back. He wants, more than anything, to take you to his apartment and half carry you up the stairs, having to shush you because you're giggling loud enough to wake the dead, and lay you down in his bed. He wants to help you out of that stunning dress and into a pair of his sweats and curl up against you, letting you sleep off your hangover until noon.

He'd fucked up that chance though, hadn't he? He had slipped up and driven you straight into your friend's arms, who he trusted not to make a move on you but not enough to negate the jealousy coursing through him.

In that moment, he hates you. He hates the hold you have on him, the way a simple gesture between half-drunk friends could send him into a spiral so steep he didn't recognize himself. He hates that he can't keep his eyes off you, your gravity too strong for him to resist.

Most of all, he hates that he doesn’t know how to quit you.

@seasidetom @flashcal @limp-wrist-max​ @sunshinesewis​ @lifeofzoemichael @ninuffi @perfectfantasies22 @lamboleglerg @ladyperceval 

#oh man i loved writing this chapter #pierre gasly #pierre gasly imagine #pierre gasly one shot #formula 1 #f1 #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 fanfiction #formula 1 fantasy #formula 1 fanfic #pierre gasly x reader #mine #pierre gasly fanfiction #formula 1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 fanfiction #f1 fic #f1 fantasy #formula 1 rpf #f1 rpf

[juggernaut-sika]

I seen you on Wattpad and really liked your stories! I hope it's okay to drop an ask. How would Leo or Raph react to their girlfriend being turned into a mutant with no way of turning back? Like Shredder or Krang created a new formula that is irreversible. Oh, and could you make the reader a mutant turtle? Thanks for the opportunity! 😁

Oooo, I like this idea. Thank you for asking! And I think I'll do both Leo and Raph for this one!

Warning(s): Sad and angry toirtle bois

Leo

He would feel miserable. He would train for countless hours trying to keep his mind off of what happened but it was all that was he could think about. Leo was the one that had to make sure everyone played their part and play it safely, but he felt he failed his. The thought of failing to protect you would plague his mind. When Donnie showed him the mutagen that was in their blood verses the mutagen that is in yours he was a bit confused; however, his confusion would turn to regret.

His own thoughts would distract him, almost pulling him into a depressed state. He'd probably take these feelings to his grave if it weren't for you. When you heard the news you had your own moment was depression but you eventually accepted who you were now. Those feeling weren't going to change you back, and nothing would so why dwell on what you can't change? You'd find him in his room, sitting at the edge of his bed, head berried in his hands. You'd walk up to him, taking his hands in yours so you could lean down and press your forehead to his.

You'd see the sorrow in his clouded eyes but give him a comforting smile as your fingers entangle his. You would nuzzle your nose to his before guiding his hands to your face. "I love you," Your voice was soft and angelic to his ears. He'd swallow the lump in his throat, his thumbs gently stroking your cheeks, "I love you too." Pulling him up from his bed, your loving hands would trail up his sides to rest on his pecks as the room fell silent again. "Why don't we go for a walk?" You'd suggest with a sweet smile on your face.

The both of you walked for a few hours, you would talk to him and try telling him a few jokes until you got tired of his silence and ask him what was on his mind. "I...I'm sor-" "Don't apologize. This wasn't your fault, Leo. You may feel it is but trust me, it wasn't. And...feeling depressed all the time isn't going to change me back. I've accepted what I am now because of that. Being a mutant isn't going to change how I feel about you or anyone else and I wouldn't have it any other way." Leo would sigh at your words, he knew you were right, the feeling of depression slowly beginning to unravel and fade away.

Sure it still took a few days for him to return to his normal self but all that mattered to you was that he didn't hate himself anymore. He was the fearless, honor boy you came to love again.

Raph

When he first seen you he was shocked. His mind didn't accept the fact that you had been mutated until Kraang had been defeated and you all managed to get back to the sewers before anyone seen you all. He became protective asking Donnie what he was doing when he started to draw a sample of your blood. Donnie would tell Raph his intentions and would tell him to calm down. "Calm down? How the hell can I calm down when Shredder turned my girl into a monster like us, huh?" He didn't mean to come off so harsh and you knew that as you watched him start to pace.

Donnie took his time to make sure your blood wouldn't have a bad reaction to the reversed formula of the mutagen; however, he soon found out that the mutagen used on you wasn't the same as the one in their blood. The mutagen used on them ate away at the cells in your blood. When he found out the mutagen used for you was completely different and changing you back could harm you greatly or even kill you, he showed you and Raph as he explained what would happen. Raph could feel his blood boil as the thought of his girl never being able to return to society. Her life practically torn from her and now she had to live under ground like them. It hurt him.

Raph would work out intensely, ending up needing to get a new punching bag since the last one could no longer handle the beating it got. None of his workouts seemed to help him though and he seemed to become more aggressive towards his brothers until him and Leo got into it. Leo was tired of Raph treating them so rudely but Raph wasn't backing down either. You were quick to step in as things started to escalate, taking Raph by his arms and trying your best to pull him away from the situation.

You'd be more worried than angry at him. Most of the walk being quiet until you two were somewhere secluded. That's when you tell him to let you know what's on his mind. He'd brush it off, not wanting to talk about it. "Raph, don't you understand how you're acting? It's putting everyone on edge and I can't help but worry about you because you won't talk to anyone. You just glare at them or tell them to leave you alone. I'm not stupid, I know you're hurting inside. I just want you to talk to me so I can help. Just like I need you to be there for me." You pled, your voice breaking as tears stung your eyes.

Raph's hand found your cheek and cupped it. "I'll always be there for ya. Always. But it kills me knowin that I can't do anything to turn you back. You don't deserve this. Ya don't deserve to waste yer life away in a sew'a. Not bein able to walk in the sunlight or hang out with yer friend. And I wasn't there to protect you from this and now you have to pay the consequences." He'd turn his back towards you as the tight knot in his chest grew tighter. "I'm not wasting my life away though. I'm spending it with you and your family. And if you think that's wasting my life then so be it but I refuse to let what happen to me stop me from living my life how I want to. As long as I have you and the others, I have all the fresh air I need, Raph." Your hands were still quite smaller compared to his as your fingers gently entangle with his.

His muscles would start to relax and he'd look down at you, his emerald eyes turning soft as he looked into your e/c ones before he would lean down to kiss your lips.

#tmnt x reader #bayverse turtles #fan fiction

[animeheadcannoncentral]

NSFW ENJI (Endeavor) X READER ONESHOT

Business/CEO A/B/O AU - this just popped into my head and turned into a 10 Chapter fic you can read on Ao3: “Hidden Flowers”

Warnings: smut, Dom Enji, sub reader, rough sex, A/B/O dynamics, alpha Enji, omgega reader, alpha Toshinori, heat cycles, dirty talk

Words: 5k

(Y/N) checked her emails one final time, ensuring nothing new had come through in the last three minutes that needed her boss’s attention. She picked up the file she had organised for the day, shuffling the papers into a neat stack before rising to her feet, straightening out her clothes and marching towards the CEO’s office. She opened the door without knocking, an action that he had told her to forego many years ago, she was his secretary after all, if she had something urgent to tell him, there was no point in wasting time knocking on the door. And he also didn’t need to burden of someone knocking on his door fifty times a day. The red head was on the phone when she entered, this scene wasn’t uncommon, some days he scarcely got away from the damn thing.

Closing the door behind her, she walked up to his desk and placed the pile of papers down on his right before walking to a white board and started neatly writing out the day’s major meetings.

“I don’t care about the cost, how long will it take to get it up and running again?” Enji sighed into the phone as he noted down the time frame.

“Is there another company that can fix it faster?” she turned back and saw he was looking at her. He’d asked both her and the person on the other end of the call, he just knew she’d come up with a solution faster.

“Mack Plus have the best engineers, Trencher Co. will be quickest but they fixed that unit previously and it’s broken again, I would suggest Wheels Down Inc as nothing they’ve fixed has broken again and it will be fixed within the week” she spilled out, she’d read the email about the mining vehicle break down this morning and immediately looked at the data for previous break downs. The man nodded and wrote it down, whilst also rolling his eyes at whoever was on the other end of the call.

“(Y/N) will send through contact details for further correspondence with Wheels Down Inc, let me know once the machine’s operating again” and the CEO hung up.

“Fucking useless” Enji muttered as he started going through his emails, “got any good news?” he asked.

“Stocks are up again today?” she tried which resulted in a small smirk from him.

“And you only have one meeting currently locked in today as well, however it is with a major shipping company that we’ve been trying to create a deal with for the past five years” she frowned a little at the last part.

“I said good new (Y/N), not mediocre news” he sighed.

“It’s their new CEO, so I guess a new chance to make good impressions” she tried again.

“That’s why I’m putting you on the front line”

“I’ll do my best Sir” putting the whiteboard marker down and turning back to him.

“Have you found anything of use in Yagi’s background?” he asked as he started going through the files she had left on his desk.

“Nothing of particular use. The problem is he seems completely different to his father, since he’s taken leadership, the company has become heavily involved in charity work. Regardless of whether it was his intention or not, the shipping company has gained a huge amount of positive press. I found nothing on Yagi himself, the only thing you can really play into in this deal is the ‘make the world a better place’ because even after a deep dive on his history, I couldn’t find anything to suggest he wants anything else” she explained with a shrug.

“How do our eco stats look?” he questioned.

“Favourable, we’ve cut emissions by seventy-five percent with the new machine’s we’re using, and with the new sonar tech that’s been implemented we’ve reduced habitat loss due to our companies’ procedures by nearly ninety percent. The rest of the report is on page five” she was confident as he went through the papers and pulled out the report.

“Increase public profile” the red head raised an eyebrow at the short list of suggestions she had made.

“It can’t hurt Sir, becoming more involved with the local community could see a potential increase of upwards of twenty percent in sales”.

“At what cost?” he put the paper aside, knowing she would be able to give him a clearer answer than the document.

“Time, funding, man power” she was curt, the CEO didn’t like wishy washy explanations.

“The board won’t like that” it was a statement.

“Can’t make an omelette and all that” she shrugged and he eyed her. She had never been wrong when it came to giving suggestions or advice on what was best for the company. She would voice her opinion on occasion, when she knew she was completely in the right. It was one of the many reasons Enji kept her as his secretary and refused to promote her to a section manager, not to mention the ridiculous bonuses that he forked out to her at the end of each year for her work. She were too goddamn valuable, and unlike many of his employees, she wasn’t afraid of him. The alpha was used to people grovelling at his feet, begging and pleading for whatever it was that they wanted at the time, usually sex or money, even employment. Enji Todoroki was one of the strongest alpha’s out there, hell, he was so intoxicating some alphas had even begged him to use them. But she wasn’t like them, it was almost as if she couldn’t smell pheromones, he was almost convinced that she in fact couldn’t, going by the amount that he had released around her in the beginning to test her.

When he’d first met her, he was shocked by her professionalism, she didn’t seem to care that he was an alpha and she wasn’t deterred when he borderline threatened her during the job interview. Hell, he didn’t even know what her secondary gender was, her CV states that she’s a beta, but the way she acted sometimes, she could convince anyone she was born an alpha. She wouldn’t take shit from anyone, and she certainly wouldn’t let him dish it out to her either, or if he did, she’d give it straight back and usually be right, and always got away with it. It’s why he respected her so much and hadn’t tried to come onto her once, also because he was more attracted to submissives, and she were far from it. She took suppressants, that much he was sure off, she never smelled like anything, and she didn’t give off any scent at all, ever.

“When’s the meeting?” he asked.

“In thirty minutes” she said as she turned to leave.

“You better get to it then” he mused.

“You don’t have to tell me twice” she gave a small smile and then exited the room. She made her way down to the lobby of the building to greet Mr Yagi on his arrival, just in case he was early. And wouldn’t you know it, this ball of sunshine was always early. He walked through the front doors to the building not two minutes after she had walked out of the elevator. She lifted her shoulders, stood up straight and approached the man with confidence.

“Mr Yagi, I’m (Y/N), Mr Todoroki’s secretary, it’s an honour to meet you” she put on a bright smile upon reaching him and what must have been his secretary. It wasn’t until she reached them that she realised how god damn tall the man was in person. Sure, Enji was tall, but for some reason, this man’s height stuck out to her. And they were both businessmen, so how the fuck did they both luck out in the looks, smarts, height and muscles departments?! It just wasn’t fair. Forget about triple threat, these men were quadruple threats. They covered all fronts.

Then to her surprise, he actually offered her a hand to shake with a genuine smile.

“Thank you for greeting us, this is my secretary Izuku, we’re so glad Enji was kind enough to host this meeting” his voice was deep, but kind and polite as she shook his hand, referring to the greenette beside him. She glanced at the young man before returning her attention back to the alpha in front of her.

She had never met a business partner this kind-hearted before, the business world didn’t usually allow his kind to thrive, but here he was, the CEO of the world leading shipping company. Without even realising it her cheeks flushed a light shade of red and she felt her heart rate increase, and of course, her scent glands started aching as they tried to release pheromones. Luckily, her suppressants were working for now, but it was then that she caught his scent, everything went blurry for a second and she lost focus.

“Are you alright Ms (Y/N)?” he asked, gently stabilizing her by her shoulders. She cursed herself, why did her body have to react to an alpha now of all times?

“I’m so sorry, Mr Yagi, and (Y/N) is just fine” she smiled up at him, puffing out her chest a bit and stabilising her footing.

“Please, call me Toshinori” he corrected her and she was slightly stunned for a moment. Every single business partner she’d ever introduced had always treated her like trash on the side walk, scarcely giving her the time of day. She’d be lucky if she even got a grunt of acknowledgment from them.

“If you’d kindly follow me” she said and turned to lead the way. Taking the chance to scoff at herself and attempt to pull herself together, an attempt that miserably failed when Mr Yagi insisted on maintaining small talk then entire elevator ride. He was just being a human being, asking how her day was going, how long she’s been working at the company, if she enjoyed working here. She could feel her temperature rising with each question he asked, and pain started erupting in her abdomen.

“Please follow me” she said politely, stepping out of the elevator cursing herself, she was going into her heat early, and she was pretty damn sure it was because of the presence of this alpha. She guided the CEO and his secretary to an empty meeting room.

“Please wait in here for just a moment, Mr Todoroki will join you shortly” she said before closing the door. Her head was starting to spin and the pain was growing from annoying to uncomfortable ridiculously fast. She maintained her composure as she walked into her small office, quickly taking some pain killers with half a litre of water. She ruffled through her draws as she looked for her EpiPen, her heart skipping a beat when she couldn’t find it. She knew she had one here for emergencies. The omega let out a sigh of relief when her hand glided over it. Quickly removing the cap and injecting herself with more suppressors that would hopefully stop the effects of her early oncoming heat for at least the next few hours. She took three deep breaths before exiting her office and entering Enji’s.

As soon as the door opened, a wave of pheromones hit the CEO. His brow furrowed in anger. His employees knew better than to come to work during rutting or heat cycles, it decreased everyone’s productivity.

“Get the fuck out of…” his eyes had been fixed on the computer when he glanced at the intruder. “…(Y/N)?” he looked taken aback. There was no way she was an omega. She always held herself like an alpha, how the hell was this strong, independent woman a fucking omega? However, he couldn’t deny that her scent was causing blood to flow straight to his cock.

“But you’re not supposed to be off til next week” he went to check his calendar.

“I know, it’s come on early” she let out a stuttered sigh as the drugs finally started to set in.

“I’ve taken some emergency suppressors, my hormones should level out in the next minute or so. I um, Toshi… I mean, Mr Yagi and his secretary are in the meeting room” she shook her head at herself. It was then that everything clicked for Enji and a smile crossed his face as he rose from his seat.

“He’s sent you into an early heat, hasn’t he?” the alpha’s voice was low, but there was a hint of playfulness behind it. She ground her teeth, refusing to answer the question, instead choosing to look away. He approached her, a smirk still playing on his lips, instead of walking through the door, he shut it, as he caged her between his arms.

“You know better than to not respond when I ask you a question, omega” he let the work hang in the air, testing her boundaries. Her brow furrowed and she glared up at him.

“You don’t get to call me that” she growled at him, then noticing that he was purposely releasing pheromones to try and rile her up. If she hadn’t just shot herself up with enough suppressants for a week, she would probably have slick running down to her ankles by now. Her boss was unfairly attractive.

“Answer the question (Y/N)” he leaned close to whisper into her ear.

“So, what if he has?” she burst out, ducking out from under his arms and walking across the room, folding her arms, “All he did was smile at me and I lose control, what the fuck is wrong with me?” she sighed angrily rubbing her temples.

“When was the last time you properly went through a heat?” Enji asked her, she looked back at him to see a genuinely concerned face. When she had taken her mandatory time off for her mating cycle she never stopped responding to emails, most people wouldn’t touch their computers during the height of a mating cycle, it all became too much, but she was always online, which told him that she probably hadn’t let her body go through a normal cycle in a while.

“I don’t know, during high school, like eight or nine years ago” she shrugged and the CEO just blinked at her in shock.

“I had more important things on my mind” she shied away from his judging look.

“That’s still a long time” he pushed.

“It’s not like I had an alpha to help me through one!” she suddenly shouted at him, she stared him down for a moment before realising what she’d just said and who she had just said it to.

“Fuck, I’m sorry, that’s not your fault, nor something you should worry about, fuck I hate this” she muttered.

“(Y/N), be honest with me, have you ever been through a proper heat?” he asked, when she turned to him this time, there was nothing but concern in his face.

“No” she didn’t make eye contact with him, but she had no reason to lie to him. Enji hated how submissive she was being, this wasn’t her at all, while a dark part of him did want her begging for his cock, he hated seeing her looking so vulnerable, he wanted to protect her, to make her feel safe.

“Look, I’m going to be really selfish now, but if you think you can handle staying for the meeting then I could really use your help. If not, I’m also more than happy for you to go home. But you’re going home before lunch today either way and I strongly advise you don’t take any more suppressants” he paused for a moment, as if trying to word something correctly, “What I’m about to say, I’m saying as a friend, not your boss, if you need help getting through it, i can help you. But who knows, maybe you might actually be able to get his number and he can help you” the alpha growled slightly at that last part, admitting and acknowledging that he wasn’t the one to set off your heat. Although to be fair, he hadn’t purposefully released any pheromones around you since you had your job interview with him. The girl let out a sigh and composed herself, straightening out her shoulders.

“I’m staying for the meeting” he knew she would, “but I am not going through a full heat” she said firmly, walking past him.

“(Y/N)!” he was about to say more, but she had already walked out the door, heading towards the meeting room. She opened the door and put a smile on.

“So sorry to keep you waiting” she apologised.

“That’s quite alright” Toshinori smiled back at her, however he noticed that she was no longer producing the lovely pheromones that he knew he had set off. Was the girl taking suppressors? He was certain he had set off an early heat, that fact that she was supressing it frustrated him. He loved seeing a flustered omega, especially one who was normally kept together as this one appeared to be. She was going to pose a challenge, and Toshinori was going to have fun pulling her apart and turning her into his little slut. The thought had him half hard in his pants. This omega was going to belong to him, one way or another.

Enji followed her into the room. The two CEO’s shook hands and introduced themselves to each other before commencing the meeting. (Y/N) was a sharp as ever, handing Enji the correct documents when they came up in conversation and was able to provide any information when called upon. Izuku wasn’t as sharp as she was, but still maintained a professional standard and look about him, the boy certainly didn’t let the woman’s sheer dominance fluster him. The meeting went as well as it could have, they both signed a contract of partnership, so it went better than both parties were expecting. Seeing her in action just made Toshinori want her more. She was professional, sharp and confident, and he wanted to be the one to own her, to see her trembling underneath him, begging for his cock. Somehow, all four of them managed to remain professional throughout the entire meeting, there were no sly words with hidden meaning, and (Y/N) was thankful for that.

Enji Todoroki was never one to escort his guests out himself, it just wasn’t a thing that he did. So, he left the meeting as he usually would with a ‘pleasure doing business with you’, but he purposefully changed the wording on the following sentence ‘my secretary will get you anything you need before you go’. She burned holes into his back as he exited the room. She was going to kill him. The next morning’s headlines would read, ‘Secretary jailed for attempted murder of her boss’. She sighed, shaking her head slightly.

“Midoriya, go wait outside, I’ll be down shortly, I just need to go over a few things with (Y/N) before we leave” the tall blonde uttered to his secretary.

“Of course Sir” the boy said before he exited the room. Toshinori’s eyes didn’t leave (Y/N)’s, who still had her business face on. He couldn’t read her. This was going to make things more difficult. After seeing her in action, he wanted her even more, and without even realising it, his pheromones radiated off him. But she was acting as if she couldn’t sense them, which pissed him off.

“What can I help you with, Sir?” she asked, her tonne polite, but holding no emotion behind it. Unlike their first interaction where she put on a sweet, warm smile for him, she was bitterly cold now, purposely trying to shut him out.

“I don’t like corporate titles, I told you to call me by my first name” he sighed, rising form where he was sitting, she was going to be more of a challenge then he originally thought. That was fine, he was actually excited.

“Is there anything I can get you, Toshinori” she said softly, not removing herself from her seat as the man walked around the table removing something from his pocket. He handed the small piece of paper to her.

“You seem like a very professional woman, so I hope you don’t take offense to this, but here’s my number, I’d love to catch up for a coffee sometime” he said with a smile and she took the paper from him carefully, the man was letting off an absurd amount of pheromones which were causing her to literally burn off the suppressants she’d taken no more than two hours ago.

“I…uh…” she tried to respond, but the alpha gripped onto the side of her chair, leaning over her to whisper in her ear.

“Let me know if you need any help with your heat, something tells me you’ve never had an alpha look after you properly before” he growled lowly in his chest before pulling away and walking out of the room with a smirk on his face.

Once she finally recovered, she heaved herself out of the chair and found that her panties were completed soaked through, luckily it hadn’t yet soaked through to her actual pants yet. She made a quick dash to her office before closing the door behind her. She turned the internal heater on and grabbed the emergency blanket from the bottom draw, wrapping it around herself and hiding in a bundle under the desk with her laptop as she continued to work, hoping it would distract her from the slick pool that was growing around her cunt and the immense pain growing in her lower abdomen. At about three in the afternoon an email came into the inbox that needed the CEO’s immediate attention. She was too worn out by that stage to register that he had told her to go home and she probably shouldn’t be working at all. She flicked the email to him without a second thought.

Upon receiving said email, Enji’s brow furrowed, she should have been home by now. He quickly opened the door to his office just to check she had in fact gone home, letting out a low growl when he noticed her light was still on. He stormed across the corridor and opened the door, a wave of sickly sweet pheromones hitting him all at once. He was confused when he didn’t see her sitting at the desk, she had to be in the room, there was no way the place smelled this sweet without her being in there. He closed the door behind him and walked around the desk to find her nesting. His first thought was to yell at her for not listening to him and also for using the goddamn office to nest. But then he saw she was shaking as she tried to type out an email, it took a moment for her to noticed him crouching there looking at her incredulously.

“I told you to go home” he rumbled deeply, and she winced.

“I… I can’t walk” she admitted, refusing to make eye contact with him. Something burned inside him, obviously that alpha had said something to her to set her off again, and then just goddamn left her. It infuriated him, sure he’d done the same thing to plenty of omega’s before, but this was his…, no not his, this was (Y/N).

“I want you to send a message out to all staff working today and inform them that they can knock off” he said calmly. She was confused by the instruction, but took a minute to type out the message and sent it on his behalf.

“Now close the laptop and give it to me” he said gently, and she cautiously complied, handing him the laptop before he placed it on the desk over her.

“Come here” he motioned towards himself, and she went to move, but her eyes widened in panic and she returned to the way she was sitting, confusing the alpha who was doing everything in his power not to just grab her and knot her right there.

“If I move, it’s gonna run” she whispered, his face scrunched up in confusion for a second.

“What’s gonna…” he stopped short, she was worried about her slick. She really had never gone through her heat’s properly before, she was embarrassed by something that was normal, something that made him almost lose control and show her just how normal it was.

“That’s okay, it’s normal” he said, still offering his hand to her, she looked at him then, searching his eyes that were looking at her with kindness. There was no malicious intent behind them. She slowly reached for his hand and crawled out of her makeshift nest, pausing for a moment when slick gushed down her thigh, before continuing to crawl out from under the desk. Enji noticed she was clutching her stomach the entire time. She lifted her face up to look at him, she had tears in her eyes.

“Enji, can you please…” she paused trying to think things through, “can you please fuck me?” a tear rolled down her cheek when she said that and the alpha wasn’t’ sure if she was crying from the pain or from giving in. He unintentionally started releasing pheromones, having an omega so close to him, and especially considering that omega was clearly under a lot of stress, his instincts were taking over.

The omega couldn’t help herself when she caught his scent, she latched onto him, rubbing her face into his chest, taking in as much of it as possible. Seeing how well she responded to his pheromones, Enji started released them in waves and the little omega in his arms sighed and then started doing something he thought she’d ever do. She had split her legs over one of his muscled thighs and was rubbing herself on it. If he hadn’t been stiff before, he was definitely rock hard now. The omega was whimpering with each thrust of her hips, and soon enough, Enji could feel his pants becoming covered in her slick. He would never allow an omega to dry hump him like this, but she looked so goddamn perfect as she chased her orgasm on his thigh. He ran a hand through her hair, gently tilting her head back, forcing her to look up at him.

“Are you enjoying yourself? Little omega?” he asked lowly, she let out a moan then made eye contact with his stone-cold eyes, that screamed indifference.

“Please…” she whimpered, by the way she was shaking, he could tell she was close.

“Please what?” his eyes narrowed as he looked down at her.

“Can I p-please c-cum, alpha?” she begged, and something stirred in him, maybe she was a submissive after all. And as much as that excited him, he wasn’t going to be cruel to her right now, he had promised to help her after all. So many dirty things flooded into his head to respond with, but he wasn’t sure if they’d scare her off or turn her on. He decided teasing her was the best way to go.

“You’re so close already, and I haven’t even touched you” he mused, easily picking her up off his thigh and placing her in his lap, she let out a moan as she rubbed herself against his clothed erection.

“Good omegas look at their alphas when they cum” he whispered in her ear and then leant back into the chair, to watch her as she came undone. The girl did her best to look at the alpha as she rode out her orgasm, but her head titled back in euphoria at the height of her orgasm causing Enji to bite his lip to try and control himself. She was going to send him into an early rutt if he wasn’t careful. The girl was shaking as she came down from her high, however, her eyes widened slightly when she comprehended what she’d just done and she quickly looked away, causing Enji to smirk at her expression.

“Come now, you enjoyed yourself, didn’t you, (Y/N)?” he asked, gently grasping her chin and guiding her head to look at him.

“Yes, but…” she trailed off.

“But what?” he asked curious, although, the alpha was well aware of the answer, he just wanted to hear her say it.

“You’re my boss and I just, oh my god” she hid her face in his chest and he chuckled deeply.

“If it’s any consolation, I’m thoroughly enjoying this” he looked down at her to see her flash dagger eyes at him before she doubled over, whimpering in pain as she clutched her stomach.

“I can make the pain go away, you just have to ask” he whispered into her ear. She lost all normal sense as her instincts took over.

“Please fuck me, please alpha, I need your cock, use my cunt, please” she begged and a thrill rushed through Enji’s body.

“You’re so pretty when you beg” he trailed his hands down her body, hooking them under her thighs and lifting her up before easily manoeuvring her onto the desk. He rolled her pants and panties down to her ankles in one go, and was pleased to see that she had removed her shirt when he looked back up and was in the process of removing her bra, before laying down and displaying herself to him.

“Sir, please, I need your thick cock inside me, please fuck me” she begged again, looking him the eyes, on the verge on tears. The alpha released his hard cock from his restrictive clothing, stroking himself as he watched the omega writhe below him. It was a dream come true, seeing her beg for him like that, and it was taking his last piece of self-control not to dive in and fuck her immediately. He leant down over her, slapping his cock against her cunt, teasingly as he gently moved his hand to stroke her face, she nuzzled into his palm.

“Alpha, please, use me for your pleasure, I’m yours, please alpha, please” she begged again, attempting to thrust her hips upwards to gain any form of friction. Enji’s last fibre of constraint snapped, and with no warning, he thrust into the hilt and his omega let out a scream a pleasure. Even though this was her first time, there was enough slick pouring out of her cunt that his massive tool didn’t hurt her, it stretched her perfectly and hit all the right places as Enji started to thrust in and out of her cunt.

“Fuck… your cock… mhmm, feels so good, alpha, do whatever you want with me” she panted as he rammed into her. It was invitation Enji realised. He smirked as he gripped her throat with his free hand, and she let out a whine. Gently running her hand up and down his arm, encouraging to grip her neck tighter.

“Do you like that, little slut?” he whispered into her ear, and she nodded, her hips thrusting up to meet his.

“Good pets reply when they’re asked a question” he sneered, gripping her neck like a vice.

“Yes daddy… I love it when you choke me” she managed to wheeze out using the little oxygen that she had left in her lungs. Her words were nearly enough to send him over the edge.

“You’re such a filthy omega, I bet you’d do anything to please your alpha” he growled as he pulled his hand away from her throat, hooking one arm behind her back, the other under her thighs so he could lift her up. Her legs wound around his waist, arms hooking around his neck as he fucked up into her cunt, using gravity to enhance the angle.

“Mhm… anything to please you, anything, use me as your cock sleeve, I’ll be your cum dump, I want to satisfy you, please Enji” she moaned into his chest. This omega was going to be the death of him. She’d used his name, which meant that there was truth behind what she was saying. He could feel his knot starting to swell up.

“Fuck, you dirty whore, if you don’t stop talking like that, I’m going to knot you” he growled.

“But I mean it Sir, i need you to use me, I could keep your cock warm during long phone calls, mhmmm, you could come in here and fuck me whenever you wanted to, I need to pleasure you, please alpha” she whined.

“I bet you’d even let me fuck you in the middle of a meeting, wouldn’t you? Fuck. You’re mine. You’re my pretty little cum dump. You are mine, all mine” he growled possessively, thrusting deeply into her. It was enough to send her over the edge into an earth shattering orgasm, screaming his name as she clenched around his cock. He was patient and waited until she came down from her high.

“Alpha” she whispered in a sighed, he grunted, informed he was listening.

“Do you want to cum in my mouth or my ass?” she asked with a sly grin and he smirked, this omega had stamina, and the fact that she could keep up with him just made her that more attractive.

“All fours, face down, ass up” he ordered as he placed her on the ground. Oh and did she move quick for him.

“You’re such a perfect little omega for me” he cooed to her as he knelt down behind her, hotdogging her ass with his slick covered dick, using the slick build up to cover his knot.

“Please, use me alpha, I’m all yours” she begged.

“You’ve cum twice now, and you still want my cock. You greedy bitch” he growled, thrusting inside her back entrance, forcing his knot inside, scraping against her walls. The omega beneath him let out a muffled scream of pain.

“If it’s too much for you, I can take it out” he wasn’t being kind, he was teasing her as he fucked her ass. (Y/N) pulled her teeth from her arm and panted before responding.

“I’ll take your cock whenever you give it to me alpha. My perfect, handsome, strong alpha. I’ll give you anything, I’d do anything to please you. I belong to you” she moaned, it was enough to send him over the edge.

“Fuck (Y/N)” he muttered, with one deep thrust, he poured his seed into her ass with a guttural moan.

“Thank you alpha” the omega whispered as he slowly rotated her on his cock so she was facing him before picking her up and sitting down in the chair as they waited for his knot to shrink.

“You were so good for me” he cooed, continuing to whisper soft nothings into her ear as she leant against his chest.

#oneshots #writing #my fic #drabbles #enji thirst #todoroki enji smut #enji x reader #endeavour fanfic #endeavor #bnha endeavour #bnha #bnha fanfiction #all might #yagi toshinori #toshinori x reader #alpha beta omega #alpha and omega #my hero academia #smut #not safe fw

[sopafa]

Paraplegic Douxie! P3

Previous part / Next one

Douxie started drowning.

It was past lunchtime and Archie was alone in the room without a soul around to do something. He familiar was down asleep when he felt it, the body on where he was resting started moving and some gags were produced by his human troat. Archibald woke immediately, and the horror surrounded him when he saw Douxie, with his eyes still closed drowning in front of your eyes.

Some muscular spams moved his abdomen, and the tube inside his mouth made difficult his breathing. Archie didn't think it twice and punched the bottom of the wall to call for assistance, the dragon did everything to stay calm while his familiar couldn't breathe, and with some tears in his eyes, he screamed with all the force of his longs to Barbara, hoping that she could do something.

It was a matter of seconds for a couple of doctors to rush into the room, that Archie barely had time to hide behind the door.

On the nurse halfway, Barbara was talking with her son and the trollhunters team about the situation. It has been four days, and yet the wizard hadn't woke. That's when he heard the commotion and turned around to see her partners running into Douxie's room. Jim saw the color drown from his mother's face and before giving him time to react, she was already running to the Wizard's habitation.

"Oh, no..." Was everything that Jim said.

====

The intubation was the worst thing that Douxie had ever experienced. He couldn't breathe, his head was spinning, and his body felt dizzy, his eyelids felt like he had a pair of weights dangling from, and then nausea.

Luckily, some good soul removed the tube from his trachea, so he was able to breathe again. The bad part is that his body had tried to expulse the tube by himself, so the accumulation of gags did their work and, before he even knew it, he was already cover in vomit.

His body retched making his abdomen hurt, but Douxie had no strength to even move his face to avoid slop more liquid over him. A pair of hands ran fast to his face to clean him right away. Douxie made his major effort to look at them, but he was so tired, that a simple hum was the only he achieved babble before starting throwing up again.

He felt miserable, he didn't want that anybody saw him like this. He felt shame, he had probably stained the person next to him with his body fluids and he wasn't even able to look at them in the eyes.

"It's okay- it's okay." A soft voice said just on his side. It was comforting and calm.

A wet towel was gently pressed on his face and began to wipe him, while more relaxing comments were spoken by that calming voice. He tried to look again, it took him a couple of minutes, and an insane amount of will, to finally open his eyes, but after a few fail tries, he finally succeeded. That hair and that eyes could only belong to one person.

Ms. Lake, he tried to pronounce, but the only thing that came out of him was a groan.

As he expected, the bedsheets and part of Ms. Lake's uniform were covered in puke, but the doctor didn't seem to care, she was still looking at him with that warm smile.

"How are you feeling?" Barbara removed some hair from his face. "You had a long surgery, and it looks that the anesthesia didn't make you feel very well".

"'R-" The wizard tried to call for his familiar.

"He's okay. He's in here, like the rest."

Douxie fought to not close his eyes.

Maybe he was exhausted, maybe it was the drugs, but he could not keep himself awake for more time.

Once the doctors were out of the room, and only the Trollhunter's mother and the familiar were in, they share a warm smile in silence. The beeps of the monitors and the numbers on the screen showed that Douxie was stable, and his heart race was normal.

"He is going to be fine." Barbara said petting the cat.

He is going to be fine.

====

"Douxie's body was rejecting the intubation" Barb explained to the team a couple of hours later.

"That's something bad?" Toby was afraid to ask, but nobody else had the courage to.

Instead of bad news, a smile grown on the woman's lips before she started talking again.

"Actually, it's completely the opposite, Tobias. When the body rejects the help of the breathing tube, is because it can do it alone, so the tube isn't helping anymore, and it's treated as an intruder. We kept the tube to compensate for the right lung collapse, Douxie's lungs needed help doing their work, but it seems that they are doing better know"

"So, he is fine now?" Steve questioned with hope.

Barbara shook his head "He is better, but he still needs time".

====

When Douxie woke up for the second time, two days after, the analgesics were almost done. The sheets of the bed, as his gown, had been changed, at least, and his low groans captured the attention of both medics that were talking in the room.

Barbara rushed to his side and took his hand. With her motherhood aura, she looked at him and asked:

"How are you feeling?".

It took a moment for to Douxie realize where he was, and still, he tried to sit up. A big mistake, because of the moment he moved, his chest ached like hell. With a low groan, he put a hand to the place that hurt while Barbara helped him to lie down.

"Easy," She said before he tried to straighten again. "You have 3 broken ribs and had a collapsed lung. You really scared the guys out there" The second doctor -a male that Douxie didn't even care to read his name- stayed on his place a few steps of the door.

Hisirdoux didn't even try to move anymore. Instead, he sighed and asked how the rest was doing. Barbara rolled her eyes before telling him "They are fine, they had already received medical assistance, no one else is hurt... bad hurt" she corrected herself, and told him that he has been asleep for almost six days.

Douxie did not know how to react.

On a hand, it was not the first time he slept for days after a fight. On the other, it was the first time that that happened to him after meeting the Guardians of Arcadia, and he hasn't had the opportunity to tell them that fact.

Douxie disconnected himself for a moment, thinking about that. Should he told the rest that it didn't matter and was a collateral effect of using a lot of his magic? Or- wait, had he used a lot of magic on the battle? He didn't remember.

Hisirdoux sank deeper into his thoughts before he realized it. It was something simple, almost imperceptible, but he tried to accommodate under the sheets. The problem was that he couldn't.

He looked at his feet.

Barbara notices that and removed her hand from Douxie's. The redhaired ma'am looked concerned to her companion, both medics shared a serious look. But Douxie didn't even realize it.

The wizard was still looking at the blanket, there was something off.

He tried to move his fingers, but nothing.

His feet, same.

Slowly the color of his face faded, and his breathing started cracking.

His hands became fists.

"Douxie..." Barbaria tried to start.

"I- I don't" Jim's mother's heartbreak with the boy's voice. "I don't feel my legs"

Hisirdoux looked at Barbara with fear and terror in his eyes, she could see his body shaking and his voice hung by a thread.

Barbara didn't knew how to told him. She was supposed to be the one that told him the truth, but at that moment, she couldn't do it. She tried to act professional, and serious, but she couldn't because in front of her eyes there were nothing more than a poor scared child with no family, holding his sobs and asking her for help, because he couldn't feel his legs.

"Hisirdoux" Dr. Velazques approached the bed. "You suffered a very complicated accident. You fell for over 100 feets, to a car's hood. On the impact, you broke 3 ribs that occasionated the lung collapse. Also, you have some other injuries caused by the same fall, like a twisted wrist, a slight concussion, and a fracture on your spinal discs."

"A fracture? So it is not broken?" Velazques nodded, a sigh of relief was expulsed by Douxie's mouth.

"Unfortunately-" The blue-haired man looked at the doctor again. "A fracture on that zone causes irremediable damage to the nervous system. Your spinal cord was compromised, and we had to make surgery to stabilize it."

"It is fine now, right?"

"After we embed metallic bars to your spine. Yeah."

"But, why I can't feel my-"

Barbara took Douxie's hand.

"I do not think that you are understanding. Hisirdoux, we can't fix the damage to the nervous system. Your legs, hips, everything from the L5-down is paralyzed. The fall had caused you something that we call Paraplegia"

"What?-" He squeezed her hand.

"Douxie-"

"Even with rehabilitation, there is no guarantee that you would be able to walk after". Hisirdoux's heart broke.

The wizard would never walk again.

#Paraplegic Douxie! Au #Douxie #douxie casperan #hisirdoux casperan #toa #toa rise of the titans #toa nari #jim lake jr #toa claire #claire nuñez #toby domzalski #3bellow #krel #toa aja #barbara toa #fanfic #angst #Sorry not sorry #I enjoy this to much #Sorry Douxie #I love you and you deserve all the world's love

[cabinofimagines]

Failed Exam :(

A/n: I’m such a simp and I’m okay with it. Anyway, here’s this and uhh yeah I didn’t proofread at all :) - Day

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

A n n a b e t h

She hums as she looks over the exam sheet that your teacher returned to you after grading it. She furrows her brow and shakes her head, muttering things like “too vague of a question” and “there could be multiple answers to this”. You huffed from your cross-legged position on her bunk, “Annabeth, it’s no use now. Can I just burn it or something?” 

She looks at you incredulously, “Burn it?” She sets the paper down on the desk and moves over to you, arms crossed. You nod and reach for her hand, holding it loosely, “It’s like therapy, y’know? Burning the thing that caused me so much stress.”

Her face scrunches in a smile, “That sounds unhealthy somehow.” She brushes your cheek with her thumb, “But if you think it’ll help you cope then let’s find a lighter.”

H a z e l

You’re sat at your table in Mess Hall, pushing at whatever you had leftover from the offering. You lost your appetite after hearing your grade on the final you spent so long studying for. It didn’t make sense. 

Someone nudged your shoulder but you didn’t look up, not really in the mood to join the conversation buzzing around the room. The nudge turned into a comforting hand smoothing over your back, “You okay sweetheart? You look a little blue.” 

Your head turned immediately, a small but sad smile on your lips, “I’m fine, just finals y’know?” Hazel hummed in response and sat down beside you, gripping your arm close and leaning her head on your shoulder. A chuckle bubbled in your chest, the gesture was so sudden that you forgot why you were upset for a second.

“I made some brownies if you want one. And they’re still warm!” 

R e y n a

Reyna is sat at her desk looking over some of the new plans for the cafe an older demigod couple wanted to open when she saw the light bleed in from the door. She glanced up just in time to see your vacant expression move quickly over and fling your arms around her. She sputters as her chair squeals back from the sudden movement, “What’s wrong, mi corazón?” 

You let out a deep sigh and nuzzled into her neck, her braid brushing against your cheek. You didn’t want to tell her precisely what made you upset, not yet anyway. You just found out and the only thing that kept you from tearing up on the spot was the thought of Reyna. You just wanted her to hold you for a moment, just long enough to compose yourself. 

Her hand combed through your hair as she whispered into your ear, “It’ll be okay, I promise.”

P i p e r

“I could charmspeak your professor into--” you cut her off with a laugh, “Pipes, that wouldn’t make me feel better, but I appreciate the cunning plan.” She grinned at your amusement and wrapped her arms around you. Her hands rubbed smooth circles along your back, coming to rest on your shoulders as you pulled away, “You still kicked ass in every other class, and yeah it sucks right now, but this exam doesn’t define you.”

You nodded in agreement, knowing she was right but still having a hard time getting over it. Piper could tell that it would take a moment to really get over this, so maybe she could distract you until then. “Picture this: you and me, that cute little ice cream shop downtown, and then seeing that new movie that just hit theaters?”

You hummed, your lips twitching upwards, “I can definitely picture that.”

F r a n k

You needed to spar, get your mind off of that stupid stupid exam. You were looking for somebody, anybody to fight with. You didn’t care if you lost, you just wanted to get rid of whatever frustration you had inside of you. 

Frank was warming up on the side right as you caught his attention and gestured him to ready up. He shot a shy smile and hustled over, raising his spear to show he was ready, “Your move--” You lunge forward and take advantage of his dropped guard, swinging your sword down against the base of his spear. He stumbles but catches himself, “Alright, so no friendly banter this time ‘round.”

You two spar for a good while and stop with no clear winner in the end. You’re both breathing heavily and sweating more than you’d care to admit, but regardless you still slump into his large figure. He sputtered, caught off guard again, “Uh…” He was confused as Hades, but hugged you back. He figured you probably needed it.

L e o

“It’s just one exam, babe!” He joked, but his smile dropped when he saw the glare you shot him. He cleared his throat uncomfortably and thought that maybe he should try a different, more sensitive approach this time. He watched as your hands ran over your face miserably, you were close to tears at this point, the cause laying beside you on his workbench. 

He moved closer and crouched down in front of you, taking your hands in his own calloused ones. You still wouldn’t look up, your eyes trained on his dirty boots. He pursed his lips, “Let me try that again; it’s just one exam. I know you studied really hard for it and I’m proud of you for working so hard on the material.” He pecked your knuckles, letting his lips rest there, “It really sucks right now, but I promise this doesn’t say anything about how smart you are or how hard you worked.”

Some part of what he said stuck, but it didn’t change how shitty you felt about failing. Still, you could tell he was trying to understand at least. You looked up into his big brown eyes, “Thanks, Valdez.”

N i c o

“A happy meal is not going to make me happy, Nico.” You grumbled and chewed on your fries grumpily. He stared at you with a deadpanned expression, “I never said it would make you happy, but you’re not hungry anymore, are you?” Well you couldn’t argue there, he even paid for your meal so you guessed you shouldn’t complain. 

“Y’know next time you have like a history class or something, I could probably get some reliable sources for you. The Underworld is full of interesting characters.” A small smile spread across your face, “Maybe, but I think I need a break from classes right now.”

Nico nodded and you two sat in silence again, just munching on your happy meals.

“Your professor is a dickhead.”

W i l l

“Well hello there, twinkletoes.” Will chimed, wrapping an arm around your waist as you strolled inside the infirmary. You looked a little glum but you moved into his embrace anyway, “Hello, sunspot.” His brows furrowed and he lead you over to his work station, sitting down on a wooden chair and bringing you to sit on his leg. 

His golden curls fell into his eyes, peering up at you curiously as if he was analyzing an injury. You knew you wouldn’t be able to hide it from him-- and if you did cry, at least you’d have a fantastic reason to steal some candy from his jar. Technically that’s for his younger patients, but you always got away with stealing a few. 

So you spilled. You told him everything that was bothering you, how you felt you didn’t study hard enough, how stupid you felt. He listened silently with his head rested on your shoulder, shooing people away if they looked like they were going to interrupt. 

P e r c y

Percy was napping after a full day of training the newbies at camp. It’s a position he enjoyed, but it was exhausting to fight and teach at the same time. Percy has always had a hard time breaking down the things he does. He just… does it most of the time. 

You snuck in while he was out, drooling on his pillow like he usually does when he’s this tired. All you wanted right now was to snuggle up with Percy and forget about that dumb exam, but you also didn’t want to wake him up accidentally. You moved behind him carefully, snaking an arm around his middle, and pressing into his back. This was already helping, just being close to him served as a sort of safety blanket for you. 

He stirred slightly, making you freeze in place. You could feel him tense up as his hands move to your grip, feeling your familiar hands before relaxing again. He turned to face you, eyes still closed and his lips pouty from sleep. He grumbled something, causing you to let out a questioning hum. “I love you,” he said again, a bit louder this time. You grinned, your heart swelling, “I love you too, Perce.”

J a s o n

“Babe, listen--” He stopped short when he saw you with your head down on your desk. He came to bug you with the new game Leo and him made up to pass the time, but you looked less than enthusiastic at the moment. He approached carefully because he didn’t know what was wrong and if it was something he did, well… he didn’t want a repeat of that incident. 

You looked up suddenly which startled him, “I failed my exam.” You croaked before letting tears of frustration fall. You angrily wiped them away as he moved to wrap his arms around you, bringing you to his chest. You sniffled, “I studied so hard and for what? I didn’t even pass.” He shushed you and kissed your forehead.

“You studied and regardless of what the results were, I’m proud of you for trying at least. It’s not an easy subject, but you still worked hard to understand and do well.” You calmed down slightly, but you still felt horrible, “But I didn’t do well--” 

“You will next time, okay? You’re a smart kid.”

.

.

.

-Day

#percy jackson #x reader #Nico di Angelo #Leo Valdez #Piper McLean #jason grace #Hazel Levesque #annabeth chase #frank zhang #Will solace #imagines #HoO #pjo #reyna #percy jackson masterlist

[spencers-renaissance]

The Noiseless Crash of Crumbling Walls

Summary: After Derek and Spencer are paired up on a science project in their senior year of high school, they become the closest, most unlikely friends possible. But what happens when Derek finally finds out what Spencer's dealing with at home? Inspired by the prompt “where did you get those bruises?”

Tags: high school au, hurt/comfort, fluff, angst, hurt spencer, protective derek, abuse, friendship, pre-slash, spencer just turned 16, derek is almost 18

Word Count: 4.6k

Pairing: Derek Morgan & Spencer Reid

Masterlist // Read on AO3 // Part Two

This is a platonic Derek & Spencer friendship fic because they are minors, but there are seeds being fairly obviously sown for part two of this series which will be set when they are both over the age of 18.

Spencer unfolds the creased piece of paper he’s holding for the eleventh time as he stares up at the house in front of him. He remembers the address scrawled on the sheet Derek Morgan had ripped from the back of his notebook earlier that day perfectly, the spiky peaks of his handwriting and the surprisingly loopy ‘y’s and ‘g’s are burned into his brain, but nerves have overtaken his helpless body. He’s not exactly in control of his actions. 

It’s not much but it’s definitely a cheerful house, that much is clear from the brightly lit windows and colourful curtains, the many gnomes decorating the front garden and the carefully planted flowers neighbouring the vegetable patch. One of the windows upstairs is cracked slightly and he can hear 90s R&B floating through the airwaves, accompanied by a female singing voice. The welcome he knows he’ll receive, though, is exactly what’s giving him pause.

A happy home is so foreign to him he has no idea how to behave. He’s used to being the adult, but tonight he has to play the 16 year old he is, and his mask is so dusty and disused he’s worried he won’t be anywhere close to convincing. 

Eventually, though, he summons up the courage to make his way up the stony path leading to the bright red front door. A brass knocker stares him in the face, but there’s a doorbell to his right as well, and the choice debilitates him for a moment, leaving him standing uselessly on the front step. He decides on the doorbell, since it’s a little more subtle, and he only has to wait a couple of seconds before the door is being yanked open and a smiling Derek Morgan is right in front of him. 

“I thought you’d never come.” His voice is bright and cheery but Spencer wonders for a moment if he’s mad at him. He’d been early when he first turned onto Derek’s road, but his over-thinking and ritualistic obsession over the address written on a scrap piece of paper had made him late. 

“Sorry,” he says sheepishly, and his desperation to be understood, his clear discomfort in such a foreign environment must be obvious, because Derek’s face softens even further. 

“Don’t be ridiculous, pretty boy,” he grins, slinging an arm around his shoulders and leading him deeper into the hallway as he kicks the door shut behind them. 

Pretty boy. He’d used the nickname once earlier that day when they were planning when to meet up for their science project, and Spencer had flushed immediately. No-one’s ever called him pretty. He’s an awkward, lanky 16 year old senior who’s far too short for his age; his appearance isn’t exactly conducive to flattery. 

The last time anyone had called him by a fond nickname was when he was eleven years old and his mother was still somewhat rational. She’d pulled him close and called him her baby boy, and while some pre-teens might have recoiled from such a name, he simply snuggled closer and tried to remember every second he was wrapped up in such warmth. Five years later, he’s so thankful he did. He replays it most nights before he drops off to sleep.

He blushes again at Derek’s easy affection, trying to relax into the warmth of his house. 

“Is that your friend, honey?” A woman emerges from what Spencer assumes is the kitchen, drying her hands on a teatowel. She looks every bit the stereotypical American mother, dressed in casual, comfortable clothes with a warm smile plastered across her face. “It’s so nice to meet you, sweetheart. I’m Fran, Derek’s mom.”

“It’s nice to meet you, too,” he says shyly, trying to meet her eyes but failing miserably. He can’t help that this whole experience is so out of his comfort zone it’s ridiculous. 

“Do you boys want any snacks to take up with you?”

“Are you hungry, Spencer?” Derek asks, and he internally panics for a moment. Yes, is the answer. Yes, I’m so hungry. The only thing I’ve eaten today is an apple this morning. But is he allowed to say that? He examines the both of them and it does look like a genuine offer, but will they guess that something is wrong if he says yes? It’s only six o’clock, though, so maybe he can swing it.

“Yes please,” he dares, “I haven’t had dinner yet.”

“Well, we can’t have that,” Fran says, putting her hands on her hips. “You both head on up. I’ll bring up a tray.” 

Derek’s room is big, filled with football trophies and posters. It’s so achingly normal that Spencer’s stomach clenches as he gingerly takes a seat on his bed at Derek’s instruction. 

“I did some research that will help us with our presentation,” Spencer offers as Derek sits on his desk chair, spinning around to face him. 

It had been a shock when they’d been paired up. Derek’s friends had hollered and laughed when their chemistry teacher had paired them together, and Spencer had gone bright red at the humiliation, not that he could exactly blame them. Pairing up the skinny nerd who’d been moved up two grades with the jock who was almost guaranteed a football scholarship to an excellent university later this year had been a rather bizarre choice on their teacher’s part.

It’s not that Spencer minded: along with being the quarterback with a 4.0 GPA, he was also painfully nice. But everyone else certainly did. Every girl in their science class had sent him death glares as Derek had sauntered over to his desk at the end of class, wearing a lazy grin.

“Chill, pretty boy,” Derek chuckles as he pushes himself side to side in his spinning chair. “We got time.”

“I have to be back home by 9,” Spencer says sheepishly. He’s sure most people in their senior year are allowed to stay out later than that, and he hopes against hope Derek thinks it’s only because he’s sixteen and not that he has to get his mother into bed and try and force her meds down her throat so she won’t wake him up in the middle of the night convinced the shadows in her room are government spies. 

“Still three hours. Anyway, I’m sure my mom can drop you home,” Derek shrugs. “It’s not a big deal. Besides, we have weeks until we have to present. Why don’t we spend tonight getting to know each other? I feel like I should know a little bit about my project partner, especially if we’re going to be working together for the rest of the year.”

“The rest of the year?” His voice squeaks anxiously but he can’t help it, Derek’s completely catching him off guard. 

“Yeah. Ms Farron keeps partners from the first project together for every assignment that year.”

This is news to Spencer, but he tries to keep calm. It’s a good thing, right? Derek has always been friendly to him, and he’s intelligent, too. It’s unlikely he’ll fob all the work off onto him. But being taken advantage of and subsequently left alone is what he’s used to: ‘getting to know each other’ is decidedly new territory. Spencer’s head is spinning. 

“Oh.”

“So, pretty boy,” Derek grins, giving himself another 360 spin, “tell me what a 16 year old is doing in senior year.”

“I got moved up two grades back in elementary school,” he explains, grateful that this is at least a rather impersonal topic. “My teachers wanted me even higher but two grades is the maximum our school district allows.”

“I guessed that much,” Derek points out. “Why were you moved up two grades?”

They’re briefly interrupted by Fran’s delivery of a delectable spread for them to feast on. Spencer reaches for a cracker and dips it in some cream cheese, but as soon as he’s swallowed his first bite, Derek gives him a look that tells him he hasn’t exactly gotten away with it. 

He sighs. “The last time I was tested, I had an IQ of 187,” he admits, looking down at his worn sneakers. He’d expected to be told to remove them, but he’s glad he wasn’t. His socks almost certainly have holes in them, and laundry isn’t something he can afford to do often. “And I have an eidetic memory.”

Derek lets out a low whistle. “Damn, I knew you were a genius but that’s some next level shit,” he says, before popping a grape in his mouth. “You’re going places, Spencer Reid.” He’s saved from having to fight his blush too hard by Derek moving swiftly on. “Your turn to ask me a question.” 

Spencer takes a second to think before deciding to push the boat out, to ask something he actually wants to know instead of playing it safe. “You’re popular, star of the football team, get straight As,” he starts slowly, not meeting Derek’s eyes. “What makes you so nice? You could easily join in with your friends and be another asshole jock pushing me into lockers.”

When he looks up, Derek’s face is an array of emotions. “Kindness costs nothing,” he says seriously, and the intensity of his gaze surprises Spencer. “I saw my pops shot to death in front of me when I was ten and I got my ass kicked every day in freshman year, believe it or not. I know what kindness can mean to a person just as much as I know what cruelty does to someone.”

Spencer doesn’t really know what to say to that, but he knows that he’s finally relaxed a little. Derek’s stark honesty and vulnerability, as much as he doesn’t know quite the right way to react, is refreshing to him, and it’s made the icon of their school seem much more human. 

“I’m sorry you had to go through that,” Spencer says quietly. 

“Thanks, man,” Derek says, a half smile crossing his face. “What about your family life?” 

Spencer swallows another bite of his cream cheese and crackers, his empty stomach thanking him for finally filling it. “My dad walked out when I was ten,” he admits, treading as carefully as possibly. “It’s just me and my mom now.”

“I’m sorry. Are you and your mom close?”

How does he answer a question like that? They’re close in the respect that Spencer cares for her and spends every free moment he has with her. But he also holds his breath every time he turns down his street, half expecting to see his house up in flames, and they’re going hungry this week because she threw most of their groceries in a nearby river after convincing herself it was all poisoned. They don’t exactly have a typical mother-son relationship. 

“Something like that,” he mumbles, stuffing another cracker into his mouth. Derek clearly takes the hint that he doesn’t want to elaborate and moves on. 

They spend the rest of the evening taking it in turns asking one another questions, ranging from simple ones like their favourite colours to deeper conversations around their future plans and biggest fears. By the time 9 rolls around, they’re lying next to one another on Derek’s bed both facing the ceiling as they trade questions back and forth. Fran’s dinner tray is now covered in crumbs, her carefully prepared spread having been demolished by two hungry teenagers. 

Their assigned topic, Enthalpy, Entropy, and Free Energy, hasn’t even been touched, and Spencer can’t find it in him to care. He could throw together a perfect presentation the night before if he needed to. Right now, getting to know Derek Morgan seems far more important. Ironically, the boy he’s only really started to get to know three hours ago is probably the person who knows him best in this whole world, and the thought makes his chest hurt. 

The jittery nerves that had consumed him at the start of the evening have dissipated into a calm companionship, and he can’t believe how comfortable he now feels. He doesn’t want to leave, but he has to take care of his mom; she’s already been on her own for so long today. 

As if on cue, Fran knocks on the door, poking her head round. “Would you like me to drop you home, Spencer?”

He feels guilty accepting, but the last thing he wants is a twenty minute walk home through the streets of Chicago in the pitch black December night. “Yes, please.”

Derek comes with them for the short drive, and Spencer feels a little embarrassed as he points out the apartment block he lives in. It’s a shitty neighbourhood and his building is crumbling, but it’s home and it’s the cheapest they can afford on welfare. He ducks out of the car and shoots them both a grateful smile. 

“Thank you for driving me home, Fran,” he says. “And thank you for a nice evening, Derek.”

“No problem, pretty boy,” Derek winks. “I’ll find you at school tomorrow and we’ll sort out another night to meet up, yeah?”

The smile the Morgans put on his face doesn’t fade until he opens the door to his apartment and reality brings him crashing back down to earth. 

⭐️

Over the next few weeks, Spencer Reid gains his first friend. They finally end up actually writing their presentation and naturally, they get an A+ but Spencer’s anxiety that Derek would want to stop hanging out with him once the project that had brought them together was behind them ended up being for nothing. Derek had fist-bumped him as they’d walked out of their classroom. “Come over tonight?” he’d asked, and once Spencer had recovered from his shock, he’d beamed and nodded excitedly. 

As Christmas comes and goes, they continue their bizarre friendship. Spencer runs up to Derek’s room as soon as the door is opened, and dives under the covers on his bed, always freezing cold. The first time Derek had cuddled Spencer, he hadn’t been able to stop smiling. He’s seriously touch-starved, and it’s only more apparent from the way he craves contact with Derek. He’s ridiculously thankful that the older boy is so free with his affection, not consumed by the same toxic masculinity that seems to plague the rest of the football team. 

It’s nearing February when Derek asks the fatal question.

Spencer had whizzed home after school and made sure his mom was okay before running over to Derek’s, breezing past Sarah on the staircase and diving onto the soft, clean bed sheets. He’s sometimes jealous of all the home comforts his friend has access to, but he does his best to tamp it down. It’s not like it’s Derek’s fault that he’s well-loved and cared for. 

“Whoa, pretty boy,” Derek chuckles as he spins around from where he’s doing homework at his desk. “Where’s that shy boy who sat right on the edge of my bed only two months ago, hm?”

“You prefer confident Spencer and you know it.” He moves up the bed a little to sit with his back against the headboard. He’s never become so comfortable around a person this quickly before but there’s something different about Derek. 

“Can’t argue with that.” He gets off the chair and moves to sit next to Spencer on the bed, lifting his arm to let the smaller boy cuddle close. Spencer sometimes has nightmares that the boys at school find out how affectionate they are with one another and call them gay after which Derek doesn’t want to hang out with him anymore. (Secretly, he thinks he might actually be gay, but he won’t tell Derek that. Just in case.)

“Can I stay for dinner?” he asks. It’s a moot point: Spencer always asks if he can stay and the Morgans always say yes, but he doesn’t like assuming, especially since he knows how expensive food is. Not that Fran has ever complained about an extra mouth to feed, though. The dinners at Derek’s house are always a family affair, full of laughter and hearty, homemade meals and Spencer likes pretending he’s one of them, just for a little while. 

The guilt that he’s leaving his mom for so long eats him up, only eased by the knowledge that she usually sleeps the afternoon away, worn out by a manic morning. He has no idea how to navigate this anymore. It was easier when the only person he had in the world was his mom, but now he has Derek and his family. And as much as he loves his mom and doesn’t mind taking care of her at all, spending time with Derek doesn’t automatically trigger gut-eating anxiety and heart-wrenching misery.

“Of course you can stay, don’t be ridiculous.” Derek elbows him playfully. “You don’t need to ask every night.”

“What if one night you don’t want me to stay, though?”

“I thought I told you to stop being ridiculous?”

Spencer can’t help but smile at Derek’s relaxed, easy grin. For some reason this popular football player with the world as his oyster and a million friends chooses to spend every evening with the nerd who’s two years younger than everyone in their year. For some reason, Derek chooses Spencer. 

After a few minutes of comfortable silence, Derek asks the question. “Why don’t I come over to your place instead one evening?” It’s a casual suggestion, there’s nothing really behind it. “I’d like to meet your mom and see your bedroom. If you’re gonna make fun of my football trophies, I need some revenge material.”

Spencer freezes. He has no idea how to respond to such an innocent proposition. Derek takes his stunned silence as reluctance simply cured with a little more persuasion. “Besides,” he continues, “I feel bad that you always have to run home first before coming over here. It’s like a twenty minute walk.”

“I don’t know,” Spencer hedges, trying to buy time as he comes up with a cover story. “My mom is really particular about our space and she doesn’t really like visitors. I’m not sure your mom could spare you a family dinner anyway.” He pushes Derek playfully, hoping to God he’s even half-way convincing. 

One glance at Derek’s face tells him he isn’t buying it, but he can clearly read Spencer’s troubled anxiety expression so he doesn’t push it. “Okay, pretty boy,” he says, relaxing back into the bed, “we’ll stick with the Fran Morgan dinner delight for now.”

Something tells him he won’t get so lucky next time. 

⭐️

Spring is just starting to show her face the next time it comes up, and this time it’s completely Spencer’s fault. He shouldn’t have gone over to Derek’s. He should have made up an excuse and stayed in his shitty apartment with his mom, but he couldn’t help it. He was sore and desperately sad, and all he wanted was Fran’s comforting shepherd’s pie and a cuddle with Derek. So he’d made his way home, checked his mom was still sleeping before limping over to the Morgan’s.

He’d concealed it pretty well all day, but energy is seeping out of him and the pain is only getting worse, not helped by the decent trek across town. 

He has a key now, so he lets himself in, hoping to avoid Fran until dinner time. Luckily, he’s quiet enough to not disturb her baking in the kitchen, so he makes his way slowly up the stairs, hoping Derek is not as perceptive tonight as he usually is. He’d briefly considered using bullies as a cover story if it came up, but Derek has spent almost every moment he could at school with him the last few days, he wasn’t out of his sight long enough to really encounter anyone cruel enough for it to be a viable story. 

“Pretty boy,” Derek greets him, not turning away from the maths homework he’s finishing up. It gives Spencer a little extra time to make it to the bed like he usually does. “You good?”

“Yeah,” Spencer sighs. “A bit tired. You?”

“Training was rough today so I’m sore as shit, but otherwise I’m fine. Better now you’re here.” He turns to smile fondly at Spencer, finally locking eyes on his pale, sallow skin and defeated expression. He scrambles to try and make himself look slightly less terrible, but he’s not quick enough. “You sure you’re good? You don’t look it.”

“No, seriously, I’m fine,” Spencer tries to persuade him. “Just tired as I said. Can we watch a movie while we wait for dinner?”

Derek doesn’t look even close to convinced, but he gives in and brings up netflix on his computer. Spencer collapses against Derek and lets his eyes close as the film they choose plays across the laptop screen, but he must fall asleep because the next thing he knows, he’s being shaken awake by his friend and he’s in a completely different position. 

“Spencer, wake up,” he says insistently, and the urgent worry in his tone makes him sit up, wincing when the movement aches his core. 

“What? What’s wrong?” he mumbles sleepily, obediently sitting up at Derek’s instruction. 

“Pretty boy,” Derek says, sounding teary and a little desperate, “where did you get those bruises?” 

He freezes for a second before glancing down at himself and realising that as he’d slept his shirt had shifted, revealing his black and blue stomach. How the fuck was he going to explain this? Not seeming himself wasn’t such a challenge, everyone has their off-days after all, but bruises like these aren’t the sort of thing your best friend just drops when you don’t want to explain them. 

“I—” He has no idea what to say. Tears spring to his eyes in a terribly unhelpful fashion, and Derek moves closer, wrapping Spencer up in a hug. 

“It’s okay, you can tell me, Spencer,” he promises as he holds him so tenderly it breaks his heart. “Take your time.” 

He cries for a good few minutes — it just feels so good to let it out — but as his painful sobs draw to a close, he knows it’s time to face the music. There’s no other option. He has to tell Derek. And maybe a teeny tiny part of him actually wants to tell his best friend.

“I haven’t been honest with you,” he confesses, keeping his head buried in his friend’s chest so he doesn’t have to look him in the eyes. Derek’s hand combing through his hair doesn’t falter. “The reason I didn’t want you to come to my place is because of my mom… She’s a paranoid schizophrenic. When my dad left I became her primary carer, and I’m— I’m not doing a good job.”

Derek holds him a little tighter and presses his cheek to the top of Spencer’s head, shushing him quietly. “Don’t say that, I’m sure you’re doing an amazing job.”

“The other night she got confused because she’d refused her meds again. She became convinced that I was a spy there to hurt her. I can usually talk her down from these moments, or at least guide her to bed to let her sleep it off, but this time there was no reasoning. Eventually, she got so worked up that she shoved me backwards, hard. It sent me sprawling face first across the coffee table, and she kicked me twice before considering herself safe and barricading herself in her room.” He tells the whole story through thick tears, shoulders still shaking with pent up emotion. He wishes it didn’t feel so good to finally get off my chest. 

“Spencer, oh my God,” Derek whispers, sounding thoroughly shocked. He’s suddenly fearful that he’s going to report Diana, and he sits up, finally meeting Derek’s teary eyes with his own. 

“You can’t… you can’t tell anyone,” he begs. “If anyone finds out, she’ll be locked away and I’ll be put into foster care. I can’t do that to her and I can’t lose you.” 

Derek takes Spencer’s hands. “Okay, okay,” he soothes, making him calm down a little. “I promise I won’t tell anyone, okay? Not without your permission. But I also can’t let you be beat up by your mom.”

“It’s not her fault,” Spencer says desperately, “it’s not her fault. She doesn’t know what she’s doing, she thinks she’s in danger.”

“I know,” Derek promises him, “I know it’s not her fault, but she still hurt you. Has this happened before?” Spencer’s hung head and refusal to respond speaks for itself. “Okay, listen. I know you need to go home tonight, but come over tomorrow morning okay? It’s a Saturday and we can spend the morning figuring out a game plan and the afternoon taking your mind off it. How does that sound?”

“Yeah, okay.”

“Is this… is this why you like being here?” Derek sounds nervous asking the question, clearly not wanting to offend him.

“Before I became friends with you,” he whispers, moving back to hide against Derek’s chest where it’s safe, “I went hungry a lot. We don’t have much money between rent and bills and mom’s medical expenses. I had to hide the groceries because she would become convinced they were poisoned and destroy them, but she got really good at finding them. I had to stop keeping them in my room because she would insist that I was corroborating with the government in trying to poison her.” 

“Spencer,” Derek breathes, holding onto him for dear life. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry I didn’t know about any of this, I would’ve done something, I could’ve helped.”

“I didn’t want anyone to know.”

“I’ll keep you safe now. I promise.” 

When Fran comes and asks them down for dinner a few minutes later, Derek points to Spencer’s exhausted form slumped against him and asks if they can have it up in his room. She relents, and Derek manages to get him to eat a few bites of the risotto Fran had made, not leaving his safe cocoon against Derek’s chest.

He insists on driving Spencer home himself tonight, surprising Fran who had her coat and boots on already, but he escorts his friend right up to his door. “If you come in, mom will get confused,” he explains so Derek gives him a long hug in front of his apartment door instead, holding him as close as possible. 

“Spencer… you know I love you right?” he asks, expression intense and serious as his gentle hands rest on his shoulders. “You’re my best friend. I’m always gonna be here for you.”

“I love you, too, Derek,” he whispers, giving him another hug. It scares him just how much he means those five little words, all the meanings that dance behind them taking him aback. For now, though, he settles on one more tight squeeze before deciding to not procrastinate the inevitable anymore. “I should go in and see mom.”

“Yeah. I’ll pick you up at 9 tomorrow?”

“Perfect.” His heart does an excited little leap at the thought of seeing Derek again in the morning. As he walks away back towards the elevators, Spencer takes a deep breath before inserting his key into the lock on his door and pushing it open. He only has to go 12 hours without seeing his best friend. He can do this. 

His life suddenly seems like it holds infinitely more promise than it ever has. He supposes that’s the power of Derek Morgan.

Part Two 

taglist: @criminalmindsvibez @hotchgans @suburban--gothic @strippersenseii @takeyourleap-of-faith  (taglist form)

#my writing #moreid #derek morgan #spencer reid #derek morgan/spencer reid #derek morgan x spencer reid #derek morgan & spencer reid #derek #spencer #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds writing #moreid fic #moreid writing #hurt spencer reid #protective derek morgan #moreid fluff #moreid angst

[blueprint-han]

a musical encounter.

pairing: music major senior!han x music major junior!reader

genre: university (?? idk) au; fluff.

⇥ warnings: very terribly™ written by a person who has a -8.9 knowledge in music, also the singing parts are not very well described and this may seem incomplete because i’m trying to force teach myself to write short, but oh well 🤧 I wanna write a longer fic based on this in the future hhhhhhhh. me after writing this fic: wow i really clowned myself at “short fic” didn’t I 🤡 also not proofread so be mindful of errors and google autocorrect <//3

word count: 1.7 K 🤡

⇥ disclaimer: this writing does not aim to represent the activities of the real Han Jisung, nor does it represent JYPE in any form. Events are pure fiction. ♡

type: blurb drabble 😭 (why can I never write sh0rt hmph >:( )

network tag: @stayverse @districtninewriters @inkidz + @sunoo-luvs

part of: the url drabble game; requested by @missinghan :’’) (requests for this are closed now!)

!!; song y/n is imagined to sing here is ‘Freedom 90, the Pitch Perfect Version (of course, with pre added acappella). You may find the song here, if you wanna listen to it. hhhhhh this is based on my rusty research about music equipment (which may be wrong) so if this is not what it’s supposed to mean please go easy on me. 😂

↯ note: hhhhh okay so this one has no direct mention or relation to your url but I rather picked it up from your url ~vibes~ (since the only idea that was dropping into my head was making han go missing ufhurg) so I hope you don’t mind ! Hope you like it uwu 💓 Happy reading. <3 Again this will not compare to your writing queen, but I tried. 😔 ⇥ dawn.☀️

“Gosh, this is a music recording, not a date — what’s there to be scared about?” Your friend chided, setting up the mic and the filter as you panicked behind the glass. “You’re a music major! Isn’t this supposed to be what you do?”

“You’re saying that like you aren’t one, and you totally didn’t freak out two days ago, Sana.”

Sana huffed, shaking her head before moving to connect all the wires in place. “Yeah. but…” Her voice came out low when she crouched down to fix all the wires. “The nerves shake off eventually. You’ve nothing to worry. Did you hydrate?”

“I’ve been sipping on this water bottle for the past half an hour!” You sighed, walking inside the booth to stand next to your friend. “And what do you mean ‘shake off’ — you mean that time you ‘accidentally’ broke the headphones when you wear putting them on?” A bite of your lip to stifle your laugh, and Sana’s mouth dropped open in disbelief.

“Wow, you’re gonna-” She slapped your arm after getting up. “-bring that up even though we had an agreement that we’re gonna keep it a secret?”

“Okay, ouch that hurts!” You chortled. “There’s no one here though, I still kept my promise.”

“Yeah right, in a rented schoolroom studio, with cameras everywhere.”

“They still wouldn’t be able to hear me, right?” You pointed out, bursting into a fit of giggles, nervousness be damned when Sana pouted in defeat.

“Fine, now help me set this up. Come onnnnn…” Your friend shook your arm violently to kick you out of your laughter. You shook your head, crouching over again to fix the wires while your friend set up all the equipment outside the booth.

“All set?”

“Yeah…” You took a deep breath fixing your dress up a bit before reaching your hand out, fitting the headphones snug over your ears. Your eyes caught on something black lying on the tables, and you pointed it out.

“Whose headphones are those?” You pointed out, and Sana looked to the direction. “Eh,” she brushed it off. “Probably the person who’d received this room to record before, they’ll take care of it.” You tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, nodding. “Now come on, let’s start. We have to submit this tomorrow and I have a movie date, so it can’t get later than this.”

“Alright,” You chimed, clearing your throat once, twice before inhaling deeply. You were surely nervous before, but somehow singing always helped you disconnect from your surroundings, it was your escape — one of the main reason you’d chosen music technology in a heartbeat when you found out it was an option for your major.

“Ready? And, go.”

Sana hit a button, causing soft music to play through the headphones, a melody she’d carefully crafted over nights of 3 am coffee and many, many texts to you — most of them saying “I wanna sleeeepppppp waaaaa”. You’d obviously heard it before but you realised why it took her so long (nearly a week), because it was near perfection.

“Heaven knows I was just a young boy~”

The song went pretty smoothly on the most part, with Sana stopping you in between verses and and going over parts she wanted you to repeat, which you gladly complied. She was the senior, of course.

When it cam down to the last verse, about half an hour had passed — and you felt pretty good about it. your vocals were shining pretty well and blended with the music perfectly, which put you at ease.

“Okay, let’s finish this.” Sana said, focused on changing up the settings, before giving you a countdown, hitting play. You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath as you waited for the beat drop to end, leading to your high note. That again. went pretty well, along with the rest of the song, finishing it up with an exhale.

When you removed the headphones and got out of the booth — you met the eyes of someone you did not expect to see standing there.

“O-Oh, hello Han-ssi.” You bowed down in gratitude, overly surprised of his presence.

Han was, just like Sana, your senior. He was one of the best students in your academy — of course, scoring the highest grade in all of his tests. Many would say otherwise because of his tsundere nature, but you could tell that he had a burning passion for music under those eyes. You’d listened to his tracks in various events your university hosted — and safe to say you were in love with his music. He had a way of making his tracks sound so… real? And natural — the kind that you wouldn’t get bored of no matter how many times you heard it.

Han bowed back and mumbled a silent “hello~” back to you before extending hia hand past you to grab the headphones placed on the table. Ohhh, so that’s why they were familiar. You’d noticed them hanging around his neck multiple times on campus.

Once he’d chatted with Sana and you for a bit (more Sana than you) and bowed before he left, you grabbed Sana’s arm before pulling her towards yourself.

“How long was he here for?” You whispered, a pout on your face.

“Umm, I think throughout the last verse?” Sana shrugged.

“What?” Your shoulders slumped. “Didn’t he come to pick up his headphones?”

“Are you seriously getting flustered right now?” Your friend narrowed her eyes playfully, making a teasing noise as she pushed at your shoulder.

“Ah,” You rolled your eyes. “Stop being so teasing, I’m just a little shy of anyone else hearing my singing.” You flapped your hand to brush her statement away — before she could say something or point it out how evidently flustered you’d grown of the fact that your role model — the Han Jisung — had listened to your music.

“Well, you’re a music major, kid. Get used to it.”

And with that, Sana bid her goodbye to you, helping you wrap up the place before hopping down the stairs, earphones plugged into her ears as she hummed a tune all the way.

You silently stood in front of the elevator, playing with the hem of your sleeves as you waited for it to arrive. Curse at your studios for being on the last floor of the building, waiting for the elevator seemed like an eternity.

You also didn’t notice the random person that stood beside you. it was getting late anyways, the sun was almost close to setting by the time you were done, so it was only obvious that the remaining students would go home.

“So, you sing?” A very familiar sounding voice echoed in your ears, and you flipped your head to the side, once again meeting the eyes of someone you didn’t expect to meet right now.

And of course, if was Han Jisung.

Now that you weren’t freaking out (but you were close to), you could focus on him a little more properly, and you immediately noticed the headphones hanging around his neck, again. He had a large black hoodie on, his hands were shoved into his pockets and his hair was neatly combed and parted. If you had to describe him in three words, it’d be “messy but clean”.

“Oh, h-hello again.” You bowed.

“Hi!” He reciprocated your actions, looking at you. “My question?”

“W-what?” Your eyes widened as you fiddled with the edge of your shirt.

“You sing?”

“I-” You started. “I do, I’ve loved singing since I was six.”

“Oh.” Jisung nodded, letting his words trail of for a second. “You sing really well. I listened to that last part of the song — really well done.”

Tensing up, a smile tugged at your lips. “R-really?”

“Yeah,” Jisung chuckled. “You have a pretty voice, Y/N. And that’s a genuine compliment.”

“O-oh.” You felt yourself grow bashful of his presence all of a sudden, your cheeks feeling hot as the heat spread to your cheeks. “Thank you.” You mumbled, diverting your gaze from your eyes as you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “That’s so sweet of you to say.”

“I mean it.” The boy said, frowning. at the sight in front of him — your eyes drifting from place to place and the way you shifted from one foot to other — you seemed to be uncomfortable, but in reality you just didn’t know how to respond. “You okay?”

“A-ah, I am, it’s just.” Moving your hands around, you tried to put your thoughts into words, only to fail miserably, before you sighed and collected yourself. “I just really like your music a lot, and I…” You trailed off, rubbing at your shoulder. “Kinda look up to you, so hearing you say that, it just means a lot to me. Thank you”

The boy standing beside you beamed like sunshine at your response, gently poking at your shoulder as he eyes you mischievously.

“You look up to me, huh?” He giggled when you stumbled over your words, bringing a hand to rake through his hair. “You’re adorable, I’ll tell you that too.”

“Oh my god stop, do you want me to combust?” You laughed, the nervousness laced throughout your statement.

“Okay fine,” Jisung nodded, attaching his headphones to the audio jack of his phone, rummaging through his playlist. “You wanna come to my studio once?”

“What?” Your head snapped in his direction, eyes widening as you took in what he said, excitement filling your veins? Han Jisung’s studio? Seeing him make music in front of your eyes? Is this a fucking dream?

“I mean, only if you want to, of course. I was just asking because you seemed like you’d like to see my music making process. You don’t have to say yes though.”

“Oh gosh, no, I’d love to!” You yelped, stopping him in his tracks. He smiled gently, nodding at you as he scratched his chin in thought.

“So, tomorrow morning is fine?” He looked at you with almost, almost pleading eyes, and you felt like your heart melted into a puddle on the spot. He was cute.

You smiled, shyly nodding as you quickly went through your schedule in your head. “I can work with that.”

“See you tomorrow morning then.” The elevator chimed, the doors sliding open as the both of you got in, giggling at each other.

You couldn’t wait for tomorrow morning, that was for sure.

*silently puts on clown hat and leaves*

↯ note: 🕯️ ignore me this is just a small prayer that tumblr doesn’t make me battle the tags yet again 🕯️ may the tumblr gods be in my favor atleast this once ;-; 🕯️ ⇥ dawn.☀️

#inkidz #districtninewriters #stayverse #stayhavennet #skz fluff #stray kids fluff #skz imagines #stray kids imagines #skz scenarios #stray kids scenarios #skz han fluff #han jisung fluff #skz jisung fluff #skz x reader #skz x you #skz x y/n #han jisung imagines #han jisung scenarios #t:fluff #t:au #skz x stay #stray kids han fluff