#digging your heels in and claiming ‘it’s not about whether YOU get what i’m saying’.

[un-pearable]

not going to pester the mvp with a rb but with regard to the tone tags video + the bombardment of misali by people saying ‘it makes sense to ME it’s more important that i convey my tone not that you understand it’ i hate to break it to you but communication is a two way street. if the other person can’t interpret your meaning despite you using something that is explicitly intended to enhance interpretability that thing!!! is broken!!!!!

#that one onion headline but ‘i don’t know how to explain to you that people need to understand what you’re saying. #for people to know what you’re saying #i’m not like. fiercely against tone tags i just thought the video was good and the tier list was useful for people struggling to understand #WHY some people have issues with them. there’s much better way to convey your meaning in text! you should at least consider how your #communication effects others #see: the trends of using overly negative compliments (DELETE THIS!!!) and taking on a tag claiming it’s complimentary #bc it’s ‘funny’ when in actuality! you just sound like an asshole #it’s a pet peeve. learn how to express yourself kindly and in a way that people can understand it’s a normal human struggle to need to learn #how to navigate new interactions and adapt to each others needs #digging your heels in and claiming ‘it’s not about whether YOU get what i’m saying’. #fundamentally misunderstands the whole point of communication?????? #text✨ #yes this is mostly a very long vaguepost of one asker that has been stuck in my mind but wanted to say smthn #anthropology✨ #< this counts. i took a linguistic anth class this stuff is relevant and i think about it a lot

[wavesoutbeingtossed]

I keep thinking about all the levels of despicable in DeuxMoi’s posts and her doubling down on her obvious lies, and I think one thing that really bothers me specifically about the miscarriage speculation she posted is that it’s yet another instance of women’s bodies being commodified and policed, especially in the current political climate in the US.

DM has no right to post speculation of that kind about anyone on her channels; pregnancy is not a storyline, it’s a medical condition with potential lifelong physical, psychological, emotional and financial consequences. To “reveal” something like this (again whether it is true or not) is no less invasive than claiming a person has cancer or any other issue. But particularly in this time in history, where reproductive freedoms in the US are being gutted, where people are seeing their access to reproductive care restricted if not denied, where some states are heading into Handmaid’s Tale-levels of monitoring specifically of women’s bodies, fuelling this kind of speculation online about anyone is playing into the dehumanization of women in the public sphere.

To try to profit off that, to drive that kind of speculation at the celebrity scale, only fuels the even more consequential culture of monitoring on people everywhere. (And DM is absolutely profiting off it.)

I know it’s a fine line, but to me the difference between fans interpreting the lyrics of a song differs in that fans do not have a platform to present anything as fact to millions of followers. Interpreting artistic works and applying them to your own lived experience happens across all forms of art. But the line crosses when you get to, “this definitely means this event happened on this day and affected the person in this way,” if they haven’t explicitly said so and given permission to say so. (So, it’d be the difference between, “To me, this song feels like it’s speaking about [the aftermath of a loss/trauma]” and, “this song is about this person experiencing this trauma on this date and I’m going to also make up an entire narrative about the life of a very real person.”)

Do fans of celebrities take it too far? Absolutely. But quite frankly, no fan has two million followers on Instagram and claims things as fact and is given legitimacy by other media (e.g. being invited to speak on other talk shows, hosting podcasts, publishing books and developing TV shows etc.). DM hiding behind “I never said this happened, someone just sent this to me and I posted it” is vile, because her platform alone ensures that a portion of her followers will take it as presumed fact, whether or not it is, and this is for anything she posts. And again, because she is accepted by all these other outlets, it lends her legitimacy regardless of her actual actions. Moreover, by digging her heels into the sand about something as ridiculous as the secret marriage ceremony, claiming she wouldn’t lie about this, it also implies she wouldn’t lie about anything else she’s posted. Which reinforces the cycle of people speculating not just on Taylor, but any celebrity, and their bodies.

This is a microcosm of an issue at large. By watching, monitoring, assigning experiences on the bodies of celebrities like Taylor, it’s giving permission to do that about anyone. And not only is that wrong and incredibly invasive, it’s increasingly dangerous in some parts of the world, including the US. Privileged (white) people will always have access to the care they need, but that care is being incrementally threatened in the rest of the country, and by perpetuating the idea that it’s entertainment to monitor women’s bodies, it dehumanizes them and turns them into content and it raises the stakes for people everywhere when it comes to their reproductive choices and freedoms.

I’m not purporting that this is necessarily what made Taylor’s team snap this week, but I do think it speaks to a larger issue that is harder to ignore for consumers of pop culture and as people living in a society in which these are tangible threats. I know this is a bit of a rambling mess, but it’s just really stuck with me over the last few days. I’d hope that this shot across the bow by Tree starts a larger conversation about the harm outlets like DM cause.

#writing letters addressed to the fire #taylor swift

[luimagines]

oooh i have an idea, how would dear reader reacts to the chain's secrets? they could be canon like wolfie being twi, or something you headcanon!

Masterlist

I procrastinated on this one admittedly because I had no idea where to take it but after writing out a list and appointing a secret to each boy. I have it done.

Some things are definitely headcanons.

Part one will include Hyrule, Sky, Warrior, Four and Wild.

Content under the cut!

Hyrule

The battle wasn’t necessarily hard to deal with- the monsters weren’t difficult to deal with and there weren’t a lot of them to begin with.

You slashed, dashed and kicked every enemy away from you and watched as they fell to your blade. Every new step revealed a new purple cloud as you danced around the battle field.

You saw Wild and Twilight fighting back to back with practiced ease and handling it as well as you were. Warrior and Sky was side by side closer to Time and Legend than the rest of the group was and Four and Wind were up in the trees striking the enemy down at a distance and no doubt scheming something while the going was easy.

The only one you had no idea where he was, was Hyrule.

And that didn’t take a lot to dive into your brain and wriggle uncomfortably until your own insecure thoughts pushed you to go look for him.

Between the monsters and the land mines of purple smoke, it was a little difficult to find him.

But when you do- he does something you don’t fully understand at first.

You manage to run into him in a clearing, but he doesn’t notice you at first. Instead, you see him take his sword and run it through his palm. His blood coats the length of his blade, and it drips down his hand onto the grass below.

He watches the monsters in front of him and dances for a minute around them before he takes a breath and kills them effortlessly.

You frown and step toward him. “Why did you do that?”

Hyrule jumps higher than should be physically possible and doesn’t catch himself on the way down. He falls flat on his butt and looks up at you with wide and startled eyes.

“Are you ok?” You kneels next to him and go to take his injured hand. “What on earth were you trying to do?

Hyrule jerks his hand back like you’ve burned him and you see the magic flow through the air around his wound- closing it like it never happened.

“Link?” You frown again and slowly place your hand in your lap. You’re confused and a little afraid for him. You know that blood magic is taboo for a reason and is typically avoided more often than not because of its’s dark nature- but you never thought Hyrule of all people would dabble in it.

“I’m fine.”

“Link.” You stress a little more. “What were you trying to do? I didn’t think you were capable of blood magic... At least you don’t usually use those kind of spells. Is that why you fight on your own for a while each time?”

“I’m not using blood magic.” Hyrule frowns and stands abruptly. 

“Then why-?”

“It’s not important.”

“Hyrule, you’re hurting yourself. I’d say that that’s pretty important.”

“It’s not a big deal.”

“Don’t make me get Time.” You threaten. “I’ll get Legend too. I bet they’ll get some answers out of you.”

“You won’t just drop it, will you?” He sneers

“Nope.” You stand and cross your arms. “What were you trying to do?”

“I was just checking something.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Like if a curse would work or something?”

Hyrule tenses and he crosses his arms- instantly looking away from you.

“WERE YOU ACTUALLY TRYING TO CAST A CURSE?!” You screech.

“THE CURSE WAS CAST ON ME!” He yells back.

You both still for a moment and wait for the forest to show any signs that others might have heard you.

The sounds of distant fighting continues and after a minute of waiting some more, no one shows up to check on either of you, so you’re safe.

You turn back to your companion and furrows your eyebrows. You lower your voice just above a whisper just in case someone might be on the way but now you need answers. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

He scowls- a face you’re not used to seeing on him and throws his arms down his sides in anger. “Back home, Ganon cast a curse on me. The monsters need my blood in order to resurrect him and I can’t risk letting any monsters from my time getting to me. I need to check if the other monsters will follow suit.”

You blink, not expecting that answer but your anger flares up regardless. “So you go out on your own to check this curse because your blood is needed to resurrect hatred incarnate? What if you’re overpowered? What if they do react to it? How are we supposed to help you if you’re alone?”

“It’s my problem to deal with. I don’t need-”

“Shut up.” You scowl and grab him by the shoulders. You shake him roughly for as long as you speak. “We are your friends! We care about you! We don’t want to see you hurt! We’re going to help you! Whether you want it or not- we’re not to let you deal with this alone. Not while we’re here.”

“Stop shaking me.”

You let him go.

“I won’t tell the others because I know you wouldn’t like that.” You say. “But this stops today. You hear me? None of us are just going to let these freaks near you and this is not necessary while you have a whole team of heroes just as pissed about the situation as you are. You hear me?”

“Loud and clear.”

“How clear?”

“Crystal.”

“Good.”

Sky 

Sky wakes up one day with a far away look in his eye which immediately puts you on edge.

Not only that but to make it worse, he doesn’t stop looking at you.

He looks scared.

Every five minutes you swear you catch him looking in your direction only to look away in haste when you look back at him.

No one is saying anything and it doesn’t help your paranoia.

With some people walking ahead you, you step back and take a spot next to Sky. You notice that he’s tense and walking robotically, and trying to match your pace. “Dude, what’s up? You’re freaking me out.”

Sky trips over himself and finally looks you in the eye. “What do you mean?”

“You woke up like you saw a ghost. You’ve been looking over to me every five minutes and even now you look like you want to sprint away from me. Did I do something?”

“I.. Ummm...” Sky stutters for a minute before swallowing whatever lump was in his throat. “I just had a dream... is all.... I’ll get over it.”

“I’m assuming it had something to do with me then.”

“No, not exactly.” Sky’s quick to speak even if you can see the beginning’s of sweat collect on his brow. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Want to talk about it?” You tilt your head. “It looks like it really shook you up.”

“Oh, um, I-”

“Maybe you died and Sky freaked out.” Legend pushes you forward and away from Sky. “He doesn’t have to talk about it if he doesn’t want to.”

“Ok, my god, Legend slow down! Not everyone is as emotionally constipated as you! Talking about things is healthy and important!” You shout over your shoulder, trying to dig your heels into the dirt with little to no luck.

Legend seems a bit stronger right now that he usually is, you bet it’s his power bracelet.

If Sky actually looks a bit paler at Legend’s claim than neither of you notice.

The day passes a little calmer after that, Sky seeming to have calmed down enough to not be so weird and it something you’re quick to forget about.

By the time the afternoon hits, a bunch of dark and foreboding storm clouds roll in.

Somehow, Sky manages to find it in himself to walk next to you again and does his best to stay close.

You don’t mind it and even jokingly pull his sail cloth over your head when it begins to rain on your group. It’s not particularly strong and there’s not a lot of options to rest and take cover, so you bare with it. Sky lets you keep the sail cloth over your head surprisingly.

But then there’s thunder and you see lightning in the distance and bite your lip. “Maybe we should hunker down or something?”

The rain goes from gentle drops to a down pour within seconds and the group runs a bit to gain as much cover as you can in the nearby tree line.

Sky pushes himself in front of you and shoves you behind him with enough force that you’re fully knocked over. In one fluid motion he lifts the Master Sword skyward and charges the blade, tossing it away from the group in a glowing blue arc. It cuts through the grass and even splits the first tree it strikes in half before dissipated into the air. 

You would have been struck by lightning if he didn’t do that.

“Sky?” You get up and try to wipe as much mud off of your pants as you can. “Are you ok? How did you know that would happen?”

Sky gulps and takes a deep breath as he looks at you with wide eyes and understanding. “I saw it in a dream.”

“Oh...” You gasp and reach out to him shakily, putting your hand on his shoulder. “You have dreams then?”

“Yes.” Sky looks at his sword and hesitantly puts it away. “Sometimes.”

“Ok then...” You nod and look around the group. They’re all in varying stages of shock, surprise and concern.

Everyone is looking at Sky.

“We need to get out of the storm.” You say in lieu of changing the topic. ” Who knows if there’s more lightning on the way and there’s a lot of metal within the group.“

“Right.” Time nods and does a not so subtle double take in his attempt to leave it be. “Let’s go.”

You nod back and nod once more to Sky and wrap your arm around his shoulder. you lead him forward and lean into his space to whisper into his ear. “Thanks.”

“I’m just glad I made in time.”

“We’ll talk later ok?” You smile in hopes of alleviating some of the tension. “I have some questions if you’re willing to indulge me.”

“I suppose it’s only fair.”

Warrior

“He’s a cute kid.” Warrior mentions randomly one day. 

You startle and jump, nearly dropping the image. You scramble to catch it and successfully do so after playing hot potato with yourself.

“Warrior, a little warning please.” You sigh and attempt to clean your finger print smudges on the glass. “But yeah, my little brother is cute. I hope he stays that way.”

“I don’t think you have much to worry about.” Warrior shrugs. “He grows up to be a fine and upstanding young man. Good looks run in the family. ”

You scoff and roll your eyes. “Thank you, I’m sure they do.”

Warrior comes to stand next to you and gently turns the glass over to see the image better.

“Warrior?”

“Hm?”

“Am I doing the right thing?” You sigh.

“What do you mean? I’d say you are. Sacrificing yourself for the good of a better tomorrow- for your family- for your loved ones- but that’s not what you’re talking about are you?” Warrior lets you take the image back.

“But he’s so young... and I’m supposed to take care of him.” You gulp. “I just want him to be safe and sound and healthy but I can’t really do that from- from... I’m here instead.“

“Well... no said it was going to be easy.” Warrior offers lamely.

“What if he grows up to hate me?” You clench the glass tighter at the thought. “I just abandoned him, didn’t I? Oh my god-”

“Hey. He loves you.” Warrior takes your shoulders in his hands and shakes you somewhat. “He admires you greatly. You’re his hero. He looks up to you even now. He’ll understand when the time comes.”

“Even now?” You sniff. “What does that mean?”

“Years have passed and he hasn’t stopped looking up to you and how you did everything you could for him, for Zelda and he’s trying to make you proud-”

“Warrior he’s five, how do you know this?”

His mouth shuts with a click of his teeth.

“Warrior.” 

“Um... I... He...”

“Link.” You pocket the glass and face him head on. “When did you meet my brother?”

He stares at you for a moment and deflates. “During... during the war of my era.”  

“...What?”

Warrior hisses and brings his hand to scratch the back of his neck. “He showed up around the same time that Wind did but he talked about you.... and I guess you talk to him about me because he wasn’t really surprised at what was happening.”

“How old was he?” You bite your lip, already dreading the news.

“Older than me actually.” He offers with a tight smile. “I never asked him but if I had to guess I would have put him in his mid twenties. The oldest Link to start his adventure compared to the rest of us...”

“But he still...” You deflate as well and hug your arms around yourself. “He still has to go doesn’t he? I can’t save him from it. Even now, I... I can’t- I fail him in the end then.” 

“He doesn’t see it that way at all.” Warrior catches you before you fall to your knees in despair. “He admires everything you’ve done for him, everything you’re currently doing. You kept him from danger for as long as you could- until he was old enough to take on his destiny. That’s more than any of us could say.”

“I don’t want him to go through any of it though.” You sob and lean into Warrior for support. “That’s my baby brother Warrior- how am I supposed to be ok with this?”

“I don’t think there is a way.” He admits. “Nor do I think you should be.”

“I can’t keep him from it.”

“But you can and have been postponing it.” Warrior rubs circles into your shoulder as you cry. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you even more.”

“I miss him.”

“You’ll see him again.” Warrior grips you tightly. “He also did very well all things considered. He became an older brother to me and to Sprite and Wind... I don’t think Wind has figured it out yet that your brother and Lucky are the same Link though.”

You sniffle and calm down slightly. “Was he awesome?”

A laugh is startled out of him and he chokes on the snort and cough that tries to leave him at the same time. “I’d say he was better than me... And he claims to have never held a sword until then.”

“Good.” You nod. “He’s the best brother in the whole world.”

“Yeah, he was.”

Four

You’re walking on a random trail as the day dies down and you’re partner is Four for the hour.

The sun rests behind you comfortably and you talk about the different weapons from each others Hyrule. You’re no smith- but you do think it’s an interesting process and try to take notes where you can.

As you trade your notes and laugh at the more ridiculous stories from one another, you look down and notice something weird with Four’s shadow.

It almost looked like it was laughing along too... in the opposite direction that Four was looking in. But you blink and it’s as if it never there.

Maybe you’re tired.

You have been walking all day and perhaps it was a trick of the light.

You don’t think on it too much and go back to talking with your friend.

Hours later-you’d think that it would be the end of it but it isn’t.

In fact, you can’t sleep. And the way it moved was different than it should have been and the more you look into the memory there more obscurities than there should be. Not to mention that Four gets weird around shadows or whenever they are mentioned.

You stare up at the star filled sky as you think about the incident.

“I’m telling you I think they saw me.” A new voice says.

You’re thrust into the moment and attune your hearing to the direction it came from.

“I think you’re thinking too much into it. How could they have seen you?” It’s Four.

You close your eyes and roll over in the same direction, pretending to still be asleep.

The voices take a minute to pick up again when you do that.

They were watching you.

“They stared at me for a solid minute- how did you miss that?” New voices hisses.

“They were laughing-”

“You were laughing, you love sick fool. They looked at me. They saw me. I’m going to blow the secret and you’re not even listening to my warning.”

Your eyes snap open and you push yourself up as quickly as you can.

You instantly spot Four sitting by the fire, but you’re not surprised by that. What really takes your attention is the new person next to him- who looks uncannily like your friend.

But with purple hair...

And red eyes...

And darker skin...

“Four what the hell?” You blurt.

Four responds quickly and as intelligently as he can manage.  “Uhhhh...”

The person next to him curses and runs a hand through his hair. “I told you. I told you. I told you.”

You lock eyes with the new guy and introduce yourself.

He huffs and crosses his arms, his face darkening slightly- or again- maybe it was a trick of the light. “I’m Four’s shadow.”

“His... shadow...?”

“Yes. That’s what I said.”

You nod, wide eyed before turning to Four with a million questions in your eyes. He can see it and holds his hand up to his mouth, pressing his knuckles harshly against his teeth as he waits for them to start flowing out of your mouth.

“Love sick fool?”

“Shadow you snitch!” Four screeches and takes a swing at him.

His cry is loud enough rouse some of the others but only really wakes up two of them. You stare tensely as Time and Legend sit up fast enough to nearly throw themselves into the fire as they turn to Four.

“Sorry.” You whisper yell to save his honor.

Shadow is nowhere to be found.

Time and Legend turn to you as the only other one awake and each raise an eyebrow in tandem.

“Ni-nightmare. I yelled. I’m sorry.” You try to act like you just woke up as well and try to hunker down into your blankets.

Time sighs and wipes his eyes. “You ok?”

“I will be.” You try to smile but you’re too nervous and it comes out more forced than it should- but perhaps that helps you sell your little fib.

Legend for his part glares at you before he sits down with a solid thump and throws himself dramatically back into his bedroll. 

No words are exchanged between you two.

“Everything alright Four?” Time yawns as he also begins to lie down again.

“Yeah. All good here.” Four laugh nervously and waves him away.

Time nods, no longer paying attention and slowly... nearly half an hour later, you see that the two of them have fallen asleep again. Thankfully neither of them seem to realize that it didn’t sound like your voice at all.

Shadow appears again from somewhere and takes his spot next to Four. “Nice going.”

“Shut up.”

“Four, I have questions.” You sit up and make your way over to the two of them.

Shadow raises an eyebrow. “What’s there to explain?”

“Everything?”

“Ok. Ok. Both of you, don’t start. You caught us fair and square. Sit down.” Four sighs and gestures to the other spot next to him. “It’ll take a while.”

“Done.” You grin and nearly run over a sleeping Sky in the process. “Tell me everything.”

Wild

“Has anyone seen Mr. Champion?” You glance up after doing a supply check through your bag. You’re running a little low on rations and know the resident cook usually has some to spare.

But you haven’t seen him in a while.

“Didn’t he go to get fire wood?” Wind tilts his head.

“Wasn’t that at least an hour ago?” You respond, furrowing your eyebrows as you think about it more. Where did Wild go?

“He hasn’t come back yet?” Warrior sits up straighter. Now the rest of the group is a little more aware of their missing member and each start subconsciously checking the tree line as if he were about to come back that very second.

“I can go look for him.” You offer, standing up. “Maybe he got distracted. We are in a new area.”

“Oh great, he could be miles away and we’d never know.” Legend groans and throws his head back. “Just what we needed.”

“Have a little faith Vet.” You snort. With a quick jump and skip over the supplies, you begin to leave the camp behind. “Try calling him Wind, I’ll see if I can go find our missing chef before dinner.”

“Please do.” Time nods. “We’ll start a full search party if you’re not back within the next hour though. It’s getting too dark.”

“Noted.”

“I could find him faster.” You hear Twilight say but you’re already too far away to back down now.

Truthfully, you have no idea where to start- but you imagine that to find Wild- one must think like Wild.

You pick a direction and stick with it.

At some point maybe fifteen minutes in you reach a small creek and begin to follow to stream upwards.

It’s really more like you’re taking a hike than searching for your friend and you begin to feel a little stupid even if realistically there’s no other way for this to be done.

That is- until you see him anyway.

He’s seems to be frozen in place, staring off into the distance with his hands still held mid air, gripping the canteen he appears to have been filling up.

It confuses you and you stand there staring at him to move- to blink- to do something. But he doesn’t. “Wild?”

No response.

“Champion?” You call a little louder and begin to tip toe a little closer to him. You’re afraid that even the slightest snapping of a twig would break whatever spell he’s under and you don’t fancy a violent reaction out the man who can easily blow the whole area up with little to nothing.

But still no response.

“Link!” You hiss and eventually reach his side. He hasn’t once turned in your direction or even acknowledged your presence and you begin to doubt that he’s even conscious.

His eyes are open and he’s knelt beside the creek but maybe he got hit with some magic or something- you don’t know.

You gulp and place a hand on his shoulder. You shake him lightly but when that also proves to not do anything you begin to shake him more and more until you nearly throw him over-but he does not react at all.

“Oh boy... What on earth happened to you?” You bite you lip and begin to look around. He’s too heavy for you to carry on your own and also too far away to yell for help or assistance.

You should have dragged Twilight with you.

Suddenly he takes a deep breath and blinks rapidly, shaking himself back into the present. 

You freeze and tense up considerably as you watch him come back to himself.

Wild stretches and looks up at the sky before standing up. “Twilight’s not going to like this.”

“No. I don’t think so.” You reply.

He freezes as well and looks at you by only shifting his eyes. “How long were you here for?”

“A while...” You admit. “Maybe fifteen minutes. You were gone for over an hour. I got worried.”

“Oh. That’s not so bad then.”

“You ok?” You gulp and slowly drop your shoulders from your ears and unclench your fists.

“Yup. Peachy.”

You nod and continue to lower your guard- not trusting this one bit. “May I ask what that was?”

“Just a memory.” He shrugs and tries to walk past you.

“A memory?” You frown and turn on your heel to follow him. “A memory? I shook you head enough to nearly throw you into the water and you claim it was because of a flashback? I’ve heard of disassociation before but I think this is more like astral projection through dimensions. You were completely gone!”

“It happens from time to time. Nothing to worry about.”

“What if something came up behind you and killed you?” You argue. “I’d say that’s something to worry about. Does this happen often?”

“Everyone once in a while. Maybe once every other month. It depends really. It doesn’t happen as often as it did in the beginning though.” Wild admits and gestures for you to follow him.

You do- but you keep asking him questions.

“So this is normal?”

“For me? Yes.”

“For you?”

“I...” Wild hisses slightly as another thought comes to his mind. “I never told you did I?

“I don’t know what you’re talking about but I’m going to assume that no, you didn’t.”

“I get memories from my old life from time to time when something triggers them. I used to have amnesia but I’ve got most of the my memories back at this point... By now it’s just filling in little blanks.” Wild shrugs. “Nothing to worry about.”

“Oh...” Understanding calms you somewhat. At least it’s not a magic spell or anything. “How did you get amnesia? Do you remember that?”

Wild stops in his tracks and looks at the ground momentarily before looking up again and walking forward. “I died.”

“I’m sorry what?”

“I died.”

“Huh?”

“I. Died.”

“WILD!” You tense up again and follow him without hesitation. “What do you mean you died? Did you heart just stop or were you like blow up or something- Oh my god! I’m so sorry! I’m being super insensitive right now, aren’t I? But I don’t understand! I don’t- Wild- Link- you can’t just drop a bomb like that. Are you like a ghost or something? No. Wait. You can bleed and I’ve seen you crash into more walls and rocks than I care to admit.”

“This isn’t exactly the reaction I was expecting.” Wild frowns and cuts you off. 

“ArE YOu oK?!”

“I’m here aren’t I?”

“But that’s not what I mean- How can that even make sense-”

“Where did you think I got my scars from?” Wild cuts you off once more with a barely restrained snort as he bites his lip.

“Oh my god.”

“I’m fine I promise.”

“Wild nooo....” You whine and Wild thinks for a minute that the information upset you so much that you’re going to cry. “Who did it? I’ll kill them with my bare hands. Who hurt you?”

Wild comes to a full stop again and sighs. Deep and tired but he tilts his head and offers you his hand. “Do you want the short story or the long?”

“Long story please.”

For the first time since this conversation started, Wild smiles even if it’s faint and subtle. “Alright, let’s take the scenic route back. This might take a while.”

Part 2

#linked universe x reader #linkeduniverse #linked universe #is my personal plot line growing #maybe #maybe not #those you have been following for a while will take Warrior's call back for what it is #can't fully break away from god given duties can you? #Link is no exception #also #Apparently Sky gets prophetic dreams #i've never played skyward sword #but I've been meaning to get it for the Switch #so soon!! #Maybe Sky will be easier to write after I play it

[panda-noosh]

the game {draco x reader}

  masterlist

---

 you’ve been tormenting the malfoy family for what feels like forever.

   it’s become a kind of game at this point, a game everyone is involved in. the malfoys pretend they don’t expect your presence, and you pretend you are tormenting them because you don’t like them. it’s back and forth, back and forth, and you’ve been doing it too long to back out now.

   it starts the same way every time - the gate is open, and they pretend it’s because they forgot to close it. nobody mentions the fact that lucius malfoy hasn’t forgotten a single thing in his entire life. nobody mentions draco’s blonde head peaking out from behind the living room curtains, waiting for the arrival of a person he claims to despise. 

   you stroll in with the ease of someone who owns the place, smiling and waving at the white peacocks that have become so familiar with your presence by now that they don’t even make a noise upon seeing you. they lift their graceful heads, and then they bow them again - it’s as simple as that.

    you knock on the door, grinning even wider when you hear narcissa’s faux exclamation of, “who could that possibly be?” you know for a fact that draco has warned her of your presence already, that all three of them have been expecting your arrival since they woke up this morning. 

   and then the door opens, and narcissa stands there in all her glory. such a tall, graceful woman, and you tell her that on a daily basis, making her blush because you  are her favourite little Mudblood, and she lets you get away with things like that.

    you lean against the door frame, spinning your wand between your ringed fingers. narcissa glares at you without speaking, her jaw working as she inspects you.

    “evening,” you drawl. “how are you today, my dear?”

   her nostrils flare. “how many times have we told you to stay away from our home?”

    “oh, plenty of times. i’ve quite lost count.” you straighten, craning your neck to see over her tall frame, into the hallway beyond. standing in the foyer, just as you predicted, just as he always does, is draco. you give him a wave before turning back to face his mother. “is he alright? i haven’t seen him much at school recently.”

    “my sons wellbeing is none of your business.”

   draco appears at his mothers elbow. “you can tell professor snape i’ve been feeling ill.”

   you smile - draco giving you orders is moreso his way of answering your questions without looking like he gives a shit. you appreciate it, this code you two speak in, because in all truth, you do worry about the malfoy boy quite a bit.

   you met him in school, your very first year at hogwarts. you were crushed beneath adrenaline, having found out about your powers only a few weeks before being shipped off to this strange and wonderful new school. you had a wand, and a robe, and there was a giant man ushering you into a tiny boat, ready to take you to the future. 

   and then draco appeared, and he knew who you were. he must have looked through the first year list, must have looked you up and realised you were a muggle-born. he did his research, and that was the first point of respect he earned off you.

    “let them in, mother,” draco says now. “the elves made too much food anyway; might as well put them to use whilst they’re here.”

    you give a mock bow. “much appreciated, malfoy.”

   he snarls, before mother and son turn on their heels and lead you into the home you have become so familiar with these past few years. you’ve traced these walls with your fingers a thousand times before, and you do the same now. upstairs, you hear the elves marching around, putting stuff back where they belong, chuntering amongst themselves; silently, you wonder where lucius is. 

    draco and narcissa lead you to the kitchen, where stacks upon stacks of food are set up along the grand dining table. draco hands you a glass of water before gesturing to the plates and saying, “dig in. and be grateful we haven’t got the ministry involved.”

    “the ministry?” you raise a brow, taking a long, loud sip of your water before continuing. “draco, what would the ministry possibly do? you’ve been letting me into your home for years - it’s starting to get a little old hearing you say you don’t want me here.”

    draco blinks, startled. 

   narcissa steps in, grabbing the water from your hand and slamming it upon the table. “we don’t want you here. the last thing we need is some filthy mudblood knocking on our door at all hours of the morning.”

    the word doesn’t even sting any more - it’s a wound that has been closed long enough now to no longer hurt. so instead, you smile and say, “very true, narcissa. i’ll have my water back now, if you please.”

    narcissa growls, turns and walks out of the kitchen. she always does this. it’s become part of the routine.  

   you grab the water yourself and take another sip. draco continues staring at you, a habit he adopted only recently. you remember the first time he did it, the first time it was more than a glance, more than an accidental brush of eye contact between you; he was standing on the opposite side of the kitchen, those slim fingers tapping a rhythm against the expensive granite. you and lucius were chatting, lucius asking - yet again - why you’re here, why you can never leave them alone, why you aren’t at school. you were going to answer, but draco’s gaze was burning a hole into the side of your face, and you truly felt as if you had no choice but to pack it in early and go home, just to recuperate. 

    you’ve gotten better with it. you don’t have any plans of storming out any time soon, though his gaze still makes your face heat up and your stomach squirm.

    “so, you’ve been ill, have you?” you begin. “i won’t lie, draco, you look pretty spritely to me.”

    “i wouldn’t expect you to understand,” draco shoots back. “you should just mind your business.”

    “i never asked you what was wrong. i was just saying - seems like you’re looking for a muggle excuse to get out of going to school.”

   draco glares, though the expression has less effect now that he’s taken to never taking his eyes off you, no matter what his emotions towards you are in the moment. “i’ve told you not to call me that.”

   “didn’t call you anything.”

   “you called me a muggle.”

   you narrow your eyes in faux confusion. “i said your excuse was muggle. don’t blow it out of proportion, mate.”

   he throws his hands up, turning away for what feels like the first time since he laid eyes on you. “why are you here this time, y/n? what could you possibly want from us now?”

    “i’ve never wanted anything from you.” you inspect the endless plates on the table. “although i will pinch a scotch egg, if you don’t mind.”

    draco watches as you reach across the table, picking at the assortment of foods. you don’t break the eye contact, because that’s what he wants you to do. he wants you to show some sign of intimidation, some sign that he has wriggled beneath your nerves in the same way he manages with everyone else. you’re determined to show him you’re not afraid of the malfoys, have never been afraid of the malfoys, and that’s exactly why you’re here. you wanted something, and you were willing to go to the highest rank to get it.

    “you know, if my father finds out about what you get up to, you’ll be sent to azkaban with a life sentence.”

    you freeze, scotch egg halfway to your mouth. “so you’re bringing that up now, are you?”

    “i’m just warning you.” draco shrugs, the sleeves of his black blazer stretching against the motion. “one day you’re going to walk in here, and he’s going to know. he’s going to see it in your eyes that you’re guilty.”

   “he’s going to figure me out.” you scoff. “you really think the sun shines out of your father’s arse, don’t you? he’s not as smart as he likes everyone to think, draco. i’ve been running circles around that man for years now, and he’s none the wiser.”

    “and what if i tell him?”

   the room falls silent. your heartbeat rings in your ears. you hate talking about this with draco, because you never know whether or not to take his threats seriously. 

    he folds his arms over his chest. “you’re lucky i haven’t blabbed yet.”

   “are you threatening me, malfoy?” you lean forward, lowering your voice to a purr. “why don’t you tell me the real reason you’ve taken two weeks out of school, hm? then we’ll both have stories to tattle to the ministry.”

    draco pales. he glares at you for a moment longer before the kitchen door opens, and narcissa malfoy strolls inside once again. you straighten up, schooling your expression into one of immediate calm, like not a single thing is wrong. you pop the remaining scotch egg in your mouth and say, “i should get out of your hair now.”

    narcissa simply scowls.

    you give her a grin, nod at draco once before walking out the door, trying to ignore that blue-eyed gaze still burning into the back of your head.

   ----

    it gets easier over time.

    all of it does, really. the guilt becomes non-existent, and the act itself becomes second nature after a few good attempts. you’ve nearly been caught a handful of times, and you know if your actions were to come to light, you would be expelled from hogwarts in a heartbeat; not even dumbledore could show you mercy, no matter how much he likes you.

    it’s easiest when the streets are full. muggles are so careless, clumped together with wallets jingling in their pockets, unprotected. they don’t even think about what might go wrong, don’t even think a wizard may be lurking amongst them, ready to snatch their belongings right from their person.

    you don’t need it, of course. muggle money means nothing where you come from, but there’s some wizards and witches who would pay hundreds of galleons in trade for the things collected off muggles. it’s a black market kind of situation.

   tonight, you are dressed in a black hoodie and jeans, wand stowed in your back pocket. you don’t need it; you’ve mastered the magic-free manoeuvres of sneaking things from people, and you use such skills to your advantage tonight. a man by the name of richard carpol has put in a request for a muggle passport - an irish one, preferably, but he’ll take anything you can get your hands on.

    you search for what feels like hours before zoning in on the dark red booklet peaking out of a teenagers jacket pocket. their source of ID, you assume, and you feel no guilt whatsoever when you stroll past them and pluck the book free. you stuff it in your hoodie pocket before picking up your pace, ducking into a dark alleyway.

    you flip it open - it’s a british passport, but richard will still pay. he’s not a picky customer, which makes your night ten times easier.

   you make your way back to hogwarts, waving at people in hogsmeade before you disappear for the night. you sneak into the slytherin dormitory with no problems, stuffing the passport beneath your mattress. you wriggle beneath the sheets, ignoring pansy’s insistant questions about where you have been, if you’ve seen draco, how you managed to sneak past filch - she asks this every night, and you have never replied. you just fall asleep, another day successful.

  ----   

   “he’s back.”

   like he’s some kind of god. you nearly roll your eyes, the whispers repeated over and over again throughout morning breakfast. all around you, the slytherin table is alive with anticipation, waiting for draco malfoy to stroll in through the double doors, head held high in that way it always is.

   you knew draco was returning before anyone else did, as he told you the night before in a fit of faux rage at the sight of you in his bedroom, yet again. you had offered to leave, leaned casually against his mahogany wardrobe, and it could almost be considered hasty the speed at which he rushed for his door to close it, uttering a quiet, “no, you’re here now, so you might as well stay.”

    but now he’s back in school, and you’re sick of him. you haven’t even seen his face once, but the whispers and the praise from your house mates is enough to set your teeth on edge. it reminds you that there is indeed a draco living outside of the malfoy manor, a draco you cannot tease and torment as easily.

    “i saw him in the common room this morning putting his robes on. i think his parents got him new ones,” a fellow slytherin whispers. “and his hair has been cut a little shorter - he looks so grown up!”

   you snicker into your porridge, smothering the noise to no avail. the slytherin girl singing draco’s praises shoots you a glare before noticing who you are; her glare folds in on itself, and she quickly retaliates by pretending she didn’t hear your snicker in the first place.

    breakfast ticks by, and it’s only near the end does draco finally decide to grace the dining hall with his presence. the double doors open, and the chatter amongst the slytherins falls short almost immediately. you’re ashamed to admit that even you look up at the speed of light, catching one of the first glimpses of draco malfoy as he returns from what many people assumed was the dead.

    his fangirl certainly wasn’t lying, you notice; his hair has been cut shorter, and he does look plenty grown up. he walks with a fresh confidence that makes you want to roll your eyes - it’s not like he needed a further confidence boost. his robes are clean, brushing the floor. his eyes are trained on the head table, though they linger there for only moments before snapping to where you are seated.

   you raise a curious brow. he blushes, looks away, and takes his seat next to crabbe and goyle, both of whom clap him on the back like he’s just returned from war.

    you ignore him the rest of breakfast, which is a rare action for you. you used to revel in tormenting him, coming face to face with him at every corner just to give another snide remark; it was a game back then, back when the two of you were younger and felt as if you could get away with it. 

    breakfast ends shortly thereafter, and you hurry to gather your things. swinging your bag over one shoulder, you duck your head down and escape into the crowded corridors, losing yourself amongst the sea of black clad students. 

   but you’re a fool to ever think you - of all people - could escape draco’s magnificent return to school. his cold fingers wrap around your wrist before you have a chance to turn the corridor to your next class, stopping you in your tracks. part of you wants to spin around and punch him, just floor him in front of everyone, show him that you’re not just some silly person showing up on his front doorstep every other night.

    instead, you slowly turn and give him a smile, one of your big ones to let him know you don’t mean it, that you’re being hostile.

    his face is set in stone, that frown so perfect and soft looking it makes you want to sob. 

    “where are you off to in such a hurry?” he asks, keeping his voice low because god forbid anyone catch him speaking to you.

    “class,” you reply. “so kindly let go of me, malfoy.”

   “not until you tell me where richard got another muggle passport to sell.”

    you freeze, though you knew this would be coming eventually. richard is one of your best customers, but he’s not very bright; he’s never understood the concept of subtlety when it comes to the trading of muggle artefacts. 

    “he has a new one, does he?” you say. “good for him. his collection must be getting awfully big by now.”

   draco scowls. “my father is starting to get very suspicious, y/n, and i don’t know how much longer i’ll be willing to cover for you.”

    you pry your hand out of his grip, nearly stumbling from the momentum. “is that a threat?”

    “it’s a warning,” he says. “i might not like you, but i don’t need you going down for something like this. people know we’re familiar with each other, and i don’t want you tarnishing my family name.”

    you scoff. “your family name has been tarnished since you-know-who was in power.”

    “shut up. don’t talk on things you don’t understand.”

    “all i need to do is pick up a history book.”

   draco scowls, those blues eyes ablaze. you’ve seen this look on him when he’s speaking to those gryffindors he hates so much, when a teacher takes someone else’s side over his own. you’ve seen this look on him plenty of times, but never aimed at you; for some reason, his expression is always so soft around the edges when trained on you.

    “i’m trying to do you a favour,” draco mumbles. “because i’m serious when i say my father will snap you in half if he finds out you’re the one providing these artefacts to the dark market.”

    “i’m not afraid of lucius,” you reply. “and i think you’re kind of forgetting the fact that your father actually likes me. at least a little bit.”

    draco’s eyebrows fly up in amusement. “what’s given you that idea?”

   “the fact that i’m still allowed in your house after all these years.” you grin, basking in the way draco’s own smile fades at the realisation you have indeed recognised this behaviour within his family. “yes, malfoy. you all try so hard to convince me i’m the scum of the earth, but the truth is, you appreciate my company. the truth is, you make me tea every time i visit. the truth is, you’re all a little fond of me, whether you want to admit it or not.”

    his face pales even more, a feat you didn’t think possible until seeing it with your own two eyes. it’s a delicious win, a point for you in a competition you didn’t even realise you had entered.

    “you’re delusional,” he mumbles. “you say you picked up a history book, then you must know how my family feel about your kind.”

   “my kind?” you raise a brow, feigning ignorance just to annoy him. he hates outstretched conversations, especially with you. “are you talking about half-bloods, or pickpockets? oh! or people who can run circles around you without fear?”

    you don’t give him a chance to reply, because quite frankly, you’re done with this conversation. you’re done with him for today. you prefer it when you’re in control of your daily draco interactions. 

    you turn on your heel and leave, rushing for your next class even as he calls your name. you can’t believe the nerve of him, approaching you like that, telling you to quit the job that’s gotten you off the streets, that’s helped you fund an education for yourself. these robes you’re wearing, the books you read in class, the wand that is an extension of your arm by now - all of it was funded by you, from your own pocket. just because the business is ruthless, not some posh, clean dealing that malfoy is used to, doesn’t mean it’s any less important.

   you want to shove that explanation down his throat, just so he’ll finally look past his own privileged little bubble. you hate admitting it, but the truth is, draco wouldn’t be so bad if he wasn’t so blinded by his upbringing. he knows how to be nice - you’ve seen it before, experienced it before, though you never talk about those experiences with anyone. there have been a few times where draco has seen you walking past his house, soaked to the bone from the rain, and he’s let you in, warmed you up by the fire, placed a hot chocolate in your hand. he’ll insult you and call you stupid and claim he wants you out of his house as soon as possible, but he was still the man who made the move to get you out of the rain.

    your feelings for draco are a jenga tower. built up to full form, but slowly, pieces get chipped away until the entire thing is falling, and you have to rebuild it and try again. 

    you don’t know why you keep rebuilding it after so many disasters, but as he calls your name at your retreating back, you can feel yourself already putting those blocks back together.

   ----

     charms class really is a pain.

   flitwick is nice enough. he’s patient, which is good, and very much needed when it comes to your skills in the classroom. you’re an intelligent person, always studying because you want to be the best. you love seeing the look on draco’s face when he looks over and sees you’ve got a higher grade than him. it gives you such a thrill.

   but charms is your downfall, because nothing makes any sense. flitwick explains the spell, and the hand movements, and he leaves you to your own devices, and you always somehow end up messing everything up.

   today, all you’re doing is tossing a pillow to the other side of the room. it’s a simple spell, a simple gesture, and yet you still manage to smash a window in the process. flitwick merely sighs, explains the charm again, and gets you to repeat the process until you’ve got it right.

   it takes a while. you don’t like it when things take a while.

    by the half hour mark, sweat is running down your face, and your teeth have been gritted for so long it’s starting to hurt. you throw your wand down on the table, rake your hands through your hair and say, “i’m taking a break.”

   “please do,” flitwick grumbles, rubbing the spot on his head where a vase smashed into his skull, thanks to your handiwork.

   you slump down on one of the pillows you have failed to charm and run a hand along your brow. it’s actually disgusting how much energy gets taken out of you from doing such a simple thing. it’s also very confusing, considering you’re able to master the most difficult spells in defence against the dark arts without so much as a second thought. why tossing a pillow to the other side of the room is getting to you is both a joke and a mystery.

    as you pull yourself together, savouring your moment of rest, someone slumps down next to you. you glance over, an eyebrow raised at bailey o’boyle, a boy you’ve done business with a few times in the past. he was only dabbling in the black market at the time, too young to understand what it was actually all about, but you weren’t going to be the one to ward him off, not when he had a good few galleons with your name on it.

    he looks at you now with a smile, big and dopey, just as it always is.

   “can i help you?” you ask. 

    “yes.”

   you wait for him to elaborate, but he doesn’t. he just keeps staring at you.

    you grit your teeth. “with what?”

    “i need an electric scooter.”

    you raise a brow. already the word ‘electric’ has got your attention, because that’s not something the wizard world is very familiar with. what bailey is doing right now is forming a business deal. you’re not usually a fan of bargaining in the middle of class, but since you have nothing better to do. . .

   you turn, ducking your head and lowering your voice. “what the fuck do you need an electric scooter for?”

    “to sell,” he replies. “i’ve got a man who collects them. he’s willing to pay big money, y/n. big, big money.”

    you like the sound of that.

   “i’m a pickpocket, you know,” you say. “it’s not going to be easy pickpocketing an entire scooter from a muggle.”

    bailey shrugs. “i said i’d see what you could do. but if you’re not up to it. . .”

   your eye twitches; you hate that phrase. realistically, you know this is far beyond your expertise. you steal wallets, and passports, and house keys, tiny things you can sneak away without detection. trying to get something like an electric scooter from a muggle without being caught is close enough to impossible that even the lure of galleons isn’t enough to convince you to do it.

   still, of course you’re going to think about it. there are many different side streets in muggle london that you could go down, and if you do it at night, the shadows could be used to your advantage. nobody would even bat an eye if you wore-

    draco grabs your wrist and pulls you from the floor.

   you yelp, stumbling into his chest. he lifts you like you weigh nothing, and you’re more surprised at his strength than you are at his actions.

    bailey’s eyes widen. he stutters, trying to feign innocence, but neither you nor draco are interested in him any more. you whirl on malfoy, shoving him away.

   “what the hell?”

    “what the hell, is right.” he grabs your arm. “come with me.”

   you struggle against his grip, but truth to be told, you’re not really putting up much of a fight. you’re still in shock at how easily he was able to lift you, at the feel of his fingers around your upper arm. 

    he drags you from the classroom. flitwick being flitwick doesn’t even bat an eye; he’s probably relieved that’s two more students he doesn’t need to worry about.

    in the hallway, draco finally lets go of you. you jerk away so fast your back hits against the wall. draco raises a brow, but he still looks furious. his nostrils are flared, his face is pale, and god, he keeps clenching his fists like he wants to wrap his hands around your throat.

    god help you, you kind of want him to. just to know what it feels like.

    “again,” you say. “what the hell?”

   “i knew you were stupid, y/n, but that’s bad even for you.”

    “excuse me?”

   “you do realise blaise was listening to every word you and bailey were saying in there?” he shakes his head, jaw clenched. “i was trying to talk over you, but your loud mouth is quite difficult to ignore.”

    you blink. firstly, wow. bargaining in class really isn’t a good idea, and you really should have known better.

   but also, wow, draco actually tried helping you out.

   you swallow and fold your arms over your chest. “i had it under control. blaise isn’t gonna do shit.”

    draco laughs. “blaise’s dad is in the ministry, idiot.”

   “stop calling me that. i’m smarter than you!”

    “do you understand what i’m telling you, y/n? if blaise says a word about what he heard to his dad, that’s you done. there’s no getting out of that.”

    a chill runs down your spine. draco glimpses the movement, and you swear his features soften slightly.

    “i just can’t believe you were so careless.”

   “why do you even care?” your voice is quiet, barely above a whisper. you kind of hope draco doesn’t hear it, but his eyebrows shoot up, and his cheeks gain a tiny red tint that lets you know he doesn’t really know the answer to that question. 

   you swallow, looking up to meet his eyes. “why do you care, draco?”

   “because.” his throat bobs. there is a moment of hesitation where you think he’s going to tell the truth. maybe he’s going to shock the world and just tell the god damn truth, but then he clears his throat, pulls his shoulders back and says, “i’ve already told you, y/n; if you go down, you’ll tarnish my family name. i can’t have that.”

    your insides wilt like his words are acid being poured down your throat. you laugh a little too loudly, a bark more than anything close to amusement. it’s so vicious, so filled with hatred that draco actually flinches away. in that moment, you want to give him a real reason to flinch, a real reason to be afraid.

    but you don’t, because he’s the boy who pulled you out of the rain.

   instead, you shake your head and say, “tell flitwick i’m ill. and don’t bother talking to me ever again. let me handle my own business, thanks.” and without another word, you rush down the hallway to the dorm rooms, refusing to look back at him. this time, he doesn’t call your name, doesn’t chase after you in that hopelessly stupid way you want him to. of course he wouldn’t. 

    you throw your robes off the minute you burst through the doors of your dorm. it’s empty besides a fellow slytherin’s cat laying on the bed. the black and white feline lifts its head at the sound of you, and you ignore it’s confused little mews as you scramble into your own bed, pull the privacy curtain over and bury your head in your pillow.

   you hate him. you really, really hate him, and that’s not even an exaggeration. he’s the worst person you’ve ever met. he’s this tormented little shit who thinks he has every right to throw his anger at everyone else, just because he isn’t tough enough to stand up to mummy and daddy. he’s so desperate to stay in line with everything his parents say, and it’s ridiculous. it’s embarrassing. it’s a cowards move.

    there are so many things you wished you said to him before storming off, but there’s always that moment of hesitation when it comes to anything you want to say to draco. you either have to check it’s not too nice, and even when it’s mean, you have to check it’s not going to actually upset him, because you don’t want to do that either. you don’t know why. you should spit in his face for the shit he puts you through, the confusion he makes you feel. and he doesn’t even care. he just carries on being a little prick, like nothing is wrong in the world.

   but surprise, surprise, draco. not everyone can live a lavish life, worry free. 

   --- 

    you manage to ignore draco for the rest of the day. it’s easily done, considering draco doesn’t like to make a big deal out of the fact that you two actually have history; he likes to pretend he associates only with people of the purest blood, the most talented wizards, ones that come from the old families.

    but he can’t keep his eyes off you.

    he knows he’s hit a nerve. the way his eyes follow every movement you make, the way his jaw ticks when you don’t even give him the time of day - he’s not a stupid boy, as much as you like to tell him he is. he can see when he’s upset you. 

    classes drag in the rest of the day, and it’s a massive relief when you’re finally released from the confines of lessons, free to do whatever you want. after stealing a bit of food from the dining hall, you head up to the slytherin dormitory; you like it best when it’s empty, when you can just sit with your own thoughts for a while. you need it today, because today you actually let yourself be a normal teenager, and you hate it. you hate the feeling of hormones and overreactions, but sometimes it’s hard to help it. sometimes you need to let yourself feel emotional.

    alone in the dorms, you reach under your bed and pull out your handy box of trinkets. most of the contents are just things you’ve stolen that never found a home - a penny from a london sidewalk, an old napkin with a mystery person’s phone number scribbled on it, a black and white photo of a couple standing in front of the ocean. however, tucked away amongst those simple, boring things is a green emerald - one you stole from the malfoy manor a few years ago.

    you got it from draco’s room, because you weren’t meant to be in there, and you wanted to let him know that you had, in fact, been in there. the emerald was stitched into the collar of one of his shirts, all expensive looking and wasted. you nearly scoffed at the sight of it - when would draco ever get to wear something so glamorous anyway? plus, the emerald looked far too heavy to be confined to a shirts collar; it would be very uncomfortable, you assumed.

   that’s why you grabbed a knife and cut the stitching to shreds, plucking the emerald from it to claim as your own. you tossed the shredded shirt back into draco’s wardrobe, tucked the emerald into your pocket and then walked out, content with the knowledge that draco would be yelling at you in due time once he noticed his missing jewel.

   but the yelling never came.

   draco knew you had stolen it. again, he isn’t stupid. his shirt was shredded, and the jewel was missing, and it was obvious who had done it - the known pickpocket who was strolling through his house every other night. 

   he just never said anything, like he wanted you to keep it, like he didn’t mind it was in your hands now.

   you stare at it, legs crossed beneath you. you’ve always prided yourself on how little you care for expensive things - you don’t complain that you haven’t got much, that you grew up poor, never able to afford the grand things draco has. but you still handle this emerald with so much care, flipping it round in your fingers, looking at every curve and delicate groove in it’s cut. 

    the dormitory door opens. you trust it’s just someone who’s eaten too much and wants an early night, so you don’t panic or falter. you listen to their footsteps patter across the room, the thump of their robes hitting the floor, followed closely by their shoes. you listen to their privacy curtain screeching open, their sigh of annoyance at something you can’t see-

   and then draco pops his head round your privacy curtain.

   you yelp, fumbling with the emerald. it slips from your fingers, however, and crashes to the floor at draco’s bare feet. he stares at it as you curse, an eyebrow raising, and you don’t even try and hide it. you just let him stare, arms folded over your chest, annoyance brewing in your stomach just at the sight of him. 

    finally, he slowly looks up. “mine, i take it?”

   “good guess, rich boy. can i have it back?”

   he picks it up and tosses it into your lap. you’re pleasantly surprised at his cooperation, but still keep that frown on your face.

   “what do you want?” you ask, violently stuffing all your belongings back into the cardboard box. 

    “you weren’t at dinner,” draco replies. “i wanted to make sure you weren’t causing any more trouble.”

    you scoff. “oh, trouble, yes. tarnishing the malfoy name. the end goal for us all.”

    draco stares at you, lips pursed. his gaze is always so warm, a physical thing that makes your skin crawl. “that comment bothered you, did it?”

    “nothing you say bothers me, draco. it just baffles me how you can be so dense sometimes.”

    “ouch. that one hurt.”

   you roll your eyes. “why are you here? i have nothing to say to you.”

   “you don’t have to say anything. i just wanted to make sure you’re alive.”

   “not like you care, though, is it?”

    draco’s nostrils flare. his throat bobs, eyes tracing the length of your throat like he’s a hungry vampire. his lower lip slips between his teeth, the expression startling you. he looks like he’s trying to reel himself back, like some unwanted emotion is fighting for dominance in his brain.

    “you’re really stubborn, aren’t you?” he asks after a moment.

   “you think?”

    “i still don’t know what i did to piss you off so much.”

   you bark out a laugh. “no, of course you don’t. god forbid a malfoy is self-aware for once.”

    he groans. “can you not just make things simple? why do we have to go around in circles like this? it’s a waste of time!”

    “is that meant to be an apology?”

   “how can i apologise when i don’t even know what i did?” he’s starting to sound desperate, like this conversation is taking the life from him. 

    you lean back, pulling the box into your lap protectively. in truth, you don’t even know how to word why you’re so upset - it makes sense in your head, but articulating it to someone else is just going to make you sound stupid, maybe even a little delusional. you should know draco by now, people will say. you should know what he’s like, that he cares for no one besides himself. getting upset over him showing his true colours is stupid, a waste of time and energy.

   but you look into his blue eyes right now, wanting nothing more than for him to just understand. understand what, you don’t even want to admit, not to yourself or anyone else. 

   “you hurt my feelings,” you mumble. 

   draco inhales sharply. “i didn’t think i could do that. i never thought you’d let me.”

    “well, you did. congratulations.”   

   “jesus, y/n, it’s not like i wanted to. what did i even say?”

   you stare at him. he stares back. the ball will drop eventually, you know, because draco is smart, smarter than you’ve ever given him credit for. he examines your expression, and you watch the moment his eyebrows start to relax in realisation, the frown form on his face. it makes anxiety coil in the pit of your stomach, because maybe this is just a little too vulnerable. maybe letting draco figure this out on his own was a bad idea.

    but it’s too late now. he draws back slowly, hands curled around the privacy curtain until the fabric is creasing and knotted in his fingers. “wait. . .”

    “go, draco,” you demand. “i have shit to do. business to take care of.”

    “y/n-”

   “go, draco!”

    he stares at you a moment longer before running a hand through his hair and walking out the room. you wait till the door is closed, and then you wait till his footsteps can no longer be heard, and then you throw the box of trinkets to the ground, watching the emerald slip across the wooden floor.

    ---

     the streets of london always look a little different when you’re angry. a little more violent. a little more real.

   muggle london in itself has always felt like a very hostile place to you, but when you’re angry, things get clearer. you notice the vomit stain on the curb, the neglected baby pram in the bush, the beer bottles smashed beneath window sills. it becomes a different place - it just depends on how you’re feeling.

    tonight, you are angry, and everything around you is angry, too.

    you just want a set of car keys, not the actual car. muggle car keys sell at a good price, depending on who you’re dealing with. nobody has requested them, and usually you don’t go out unless asked to do so by a client, but tonight, you just want to be out. you want to be away from the wizarding world. you want to cause havoc with your fingers in the best way you know how.

    it’s busy. it always is. you can guarantee that almost everyone around you has car keys in their pocket - that’s why global warming is so bad. some of them even wear them around their neck, dangling from multicoloured chains with little souvenirs banging against their chests. those would be so easy to just rip off and run away, but you’ve decided to be subtle, which means your eyes are trained on the bulges in people’s coat pockets. so many of them, so careless. 

    a man in a tracksuit seems like the best option. you follow him for ten minutes, keeping your head down, before he finally breaks away from his group of drunken friends. he laughs to himself, stumbling just the perfect amount - he’s drunk, but not drunk enough to be falling over himself, which makes slipping your hand into his pocket a pretty easy deal.

   you go for the kill, quickening your pace, dipping your hand into his pocket-

   he grabs your wrist, and before you even have a chance to blink, you’re on the ground.

    a gasp is ripped from your throat at both the shock and the pain that spears up your spine. the guy is yelling, stumbling back, and holy shit, if he doesn’t shut up right now, the whole of london is going to be on you.

   gathering as much strength as you can, you roll onto your side and push yourself to your knees. “hey man, calm down. sorry. i thought you were my friend.”

    “did you just try and rob me?” he yells.

   “no! no, of course-”

    “you psycho bitch!” he lunges for you, all drunken vowels and grabby hands. you have no idea what to make of his intentions, you just know you’ve fucked up, and you need to get out of here.

    his hands slam into your shoulders, knocking you on your ass. a cry escapes you, but not from the pain. a tiny snap sounds from your back pocket, and you know without having to look that your wand has just broken in half - yet again. dumbledore is going to start getting very suspicious.

    “son of a bitch,” you growl, before raising your hands. “listen, hey. i’m sorry. i’ve said that already. you need to calm down before-”

    “before what?” he howls. “you kill me? are you threatening me?”

    your eyes widen. “no! would you just-”

    the man opens his mouth to say something else, but his words are sucked back in when a hand wraps around his arm and yanks him back. you wince at the sound of his head cracking against the tarmac, but you don’t get a chance to comment before draco is kneeling beside you, one hand cradling your head, the other resting on your knee. his touch alone is enough to spread warmth through your previously frozen limbs, and you hate that. you hate it so much.

    you tug your knee from his grip. “what the hell are you doing here?”

   “are you bleeding?” he runs his thumb along your bottom lip. when he pulls away, his fingertip glows with a red liquid. 

   “oh. i guess i am.”

   “christ, y/n. do you ever just...” he closes his eyes, taking a moment to redirect his anger. it’s an amusing sight, and you almost smile until you remember you’re mad at him. forever mad at him.

   you jerk your head out of his grip, too. “i’m fine. stop worrying.”

    “clearly i have to, or else you’re going to get yourself killed.” he glances over his shoulder, where the drunken man is struggling to sit up, still slurring protestations. “by a muggle.”

    “he wouldn’t have killed me,” you grumble. “although my wand is broke, so maybe he would have.”

   draco’s eyes widen. you wave him off before he has a chance to chastise you again - in truth, you just want to get out of here, car keys be damned. hastily, you push yourself to your feet, wobbling only slightly, but draco must see this tiny action as a full-on collapse risk, as he wraps an arm around your waist and tugs you close, grumbling curses under his breath. you’re such a pain in the arse, apparently, and god, he wishes he wasn’t stuck with you all the time, and he’s so baffled by the fact you’re still alive, it’s probably all thanks to him, blah, blah, blah.

   you listen to him rant the entire way back to malfoy manor. you don’t argue his choice of location, because you can see narcissa standing in the doorway, hand over her mouth, eyebrows raised in genuine surprise, and you already know she’s got a cup of tea waiting for you in the sitting room. you almost smile, but that would ruin the effect.

    she rushes out to meet you and draco halfway, immediately grabbing your face and tilting your head back and forth. you can taste blood on your teeth.

    “what happened?” she breathes, but doesn’t give you a chance to reply. “draco, take them into the lounge.”

   “oh, the lounge,” you coo. “you are spoiling me!”

    “be quiet,” draco hisses, doing as his mother says. he tosses you unceremoniously onto the plush sofa, and you have to ignore the inappropriate thrill that shoots up your body. 

   narcissa appears not ten seconds later, a steaming cup of tea in her hand. you give her a grin, which she rolls her eyes at, even as she sits beside you and brushes your hair away from your face. you take a sip of the tea, smile in thanks, and then lean your head back.

   “sorry about this.”

   narcissa sighs. her breath tickles your cheek, smelling oddly of incense. “i don’t know what we’re going to do with you, y/n.”

   “put me down.” you make a stabbing gesture into your arm and mouth lethal injection at draco. he purses his lips, clearly not taking the joke in stride. “i didn’t mean to worry you so much.”

    “you’re always worrying us,” draco hisses, which earns him a sharp look from narcissa. he meets his mothers eyes and his shoulders deflate. he runs his hands down his face. “you’re just . . . always doing something.”

    “i know,” you mumble. “sorry.”

    “draco, don’t stress them out,” says narcissa, which surprises you; you’ve always known narcissa has a secret soft spot for you, but she’s always tried her hardest to keep it just that - a secret. yet here she is, combing your hair back, giving you a cup of tea, telling her son to treat you nicely. it’s like you’ve entered a different world. “i’m gonna go and make some calls. keep them comfortable, okay?”

   draco nods, lips still pursed, forever displeased. you used to laugh at that expression on his face, but now it just makes you feel bad. 

   narcissa leaves the room, and then it’s just you and draco. you watch as he watches you, eyes never wavering, shoulders never relaxing. he’s got his arms folded over his chest like he’s keeping guard. 

    “i meant it, you know,” you say. “i didn’t mean to worry you. i thought it would be an easy job.”

    “who are you doing business with now? bailey again?”

    “no.” you look down, surprisingly shameful. “it was just for myself. i needed out of the castle, and. . .” you shrug. “you know me. i can’t do anything easy.”

   he scoffs. “yeah, i know.”

   “so i’m sorry.”

   draco closes his eyes and rubs his temples. the rings on his fingers glisten beneath the fancy lights. his knuckles pop, the veins in his arms protruding. “please stop apologising.”

   you blink. “alright.”

    “you act like i don’t understand why you’re doing all this, but i do.” he looks at you, hands dropping to his sides. “just because i don’t have to do it myself, doesn’t mean i don’t understand. why else do you think i haven’t stopped you?”

    your breath catches. you raise a brow, tilting your head cruelly. “you wouldn’t have been able to stop me. you think i’d listen to you?”

    “yeah. i think you would.”

   you reel back, jaw dropping open. “excuse-”

    “you always act like you hate me, but you forget you’ve been coming to my house for years. you forget i’ve known you since we were eleven. you forget that i don’t just put up with anyone. i’ve had time to figure you out, y/n, no matter how much you like to pretend i haven’t.” he folds his arms and leans against the door. his hair is rumpled, along with his shirt and jeans. so casual, so unlike himself. “but earlier on, in the dorms. . . you surprised me with that one.”

    your stomach curls. oh, good god, he’s bringing that up now. you’re sat here with a busted chin and a potential criminal charge, and he’s bringing this up. you could headbutt him.

    despite your glare, he continues. “i knew you didn’t hate me, but i never thought. . . i never thought you liked me, you know? especially not-”

   “don’t say it.”

   his lips twist. “i have to.”

   “no you don’t.”

    “do you love me?”

    your heart falls into the pit of your stomach, which is answer enough for you. love is such a strong word, and you could easily say no, that what you feel for draco is nothing more than a little crush. he’s got the nice blue eyes, and the money, and the perfect hair. he’s got a smile that lights up rooms. it’s a crush. you fancy him, and that’s all there is to it.

    but love sounds pretty accurate. more accurate, actually.

    you swallow. draco watches the bob of your throat, and you watch his. above your head, the massive clock ticks, ticks, ticks. 

     slowly, he reaches forward and swipes his thumb over your chin. it stings just a little, but you’ve felt worse pain, so you let him do it without jerking away. 

     “cat got your tongue?” he whispers.

    you shiver. “i don’t. . . i don’t know what you want me to say.”

    “it’s not about what i want. i was asking a simple question. just give me the truth.”

    “you want the truth?”

   he inhales, hesitates, and then nods.

    “yeah, draco,” you whisper. “i think i love you.”

     slowly, draco draws away. his eyes never leave your own, that frosty blue colour reminding you of the winter sky, or a cold december morning. you remember all those christmas’s at hogwarts when draco would stay at the castle, waking him up because you thought it would annoy him to have your face be the first thing he sees. you always commented on the dreary smile that played on his lips when you did that, and he would always say, “i thought you were someone else.”

    but that dreary smile is returning, pulling across his face, and it doesn’t falter. right now, there is no mistake. his eyes are on you, and he knows it is you, the person who has apparently made his life a living hell for so many years. you’re the ache in his spine, the one he can’t wait to get rid of.

    but you’re also the one he rescued from the rain. 

    you’re the one who cursed hermione granger when she punched him in the nose.

   you’re the one who’s just confessed your love to him.

   shit.

   “don’t look at me like that,” you say, voice hoarse. “don’t pretend you didn’t know.”

   “i didn’t know,” he says immediately, like he’s desperate for you to know he was clueless. “did you know?”

    “kind of. i wanted to ignore it-”

    draco shakes his head, waving a dismissive hand. “no, no. did you know that i love you, too?”

    you open your mouth, but no words come out. your brain just short circuits, taking a second to catch on to what he’s said. that dreary smile is still playing at his lips, and you’re waiting for the moment it turns into a sneer, a mocking little smirk.

    it doesn’t.

   “oh right,” you mumble. “no. i had no idea.” you pause. “are you taking the piss out of me?”

    he laughs, a rare and pleasant sound. he approaches you, kneels at your side on the sofa and cups your head in his hands. you melt into him, even though every instinct in your body is telling you to pull away, to run away, because this is nothing more than false hope. he’s playing a trick on you. you’ve annoyed him to breaking point, and now he’s found the perfect chance for revenge.

    but his hands are so warm, and nice, and your cheek dips into his palm so easily, like it belongs there.

    “you’ve always been kind of not smart in my eyes,” he says.

   your eyes widen. “hey!”

   “kidding. i’m kidding.” he chuckles, running his thumb along your lower lip. “but you’re not doing your intelligence any justice right now. i thought i was making my feelings pretty clear.”

   you glare; he knows full well he hasn’t made his feelings clear. neither of you have. you’ve spent the past seven years pretending to hate each other.

   he grins. “okay, maybe i didn’t make it so easy. but you didn’t make it easy for me, either.”

   “i still don’t believe you.”

   he raises a brow. “why?”

   you shrug. “it just doesn’t seem possible that someone like you could fall in love with someone like me.”

    his eyes soften. “wow. maybe you are not very smart.” 

   before you have a chance to protest, he kisses you. just like that, like it’s the most natural thing in the world, or maybe like it’s an action he’s been waiting to do for years, and now he’s finally got the chance. that’s what it’s like for you, this coil unravelling in your gut after years and years and years of ignoring it’s existence.

   you run your hands through his hair, tugging on those pesky strands at the back that always stick up because he refuses to wear anything other than collared shirts. he growls into your mouth, pulling you closer, closer, closer, until your legs are tangled with his, and his fingers are tracing a line down the centre of your throat. he stops at the hollow, just to feel the bob of your throat as nerves spiral through you. he grins against your mouth, pulling away to see the shock in your eyes.

    he’s so proud of himself. he’s made you a mess.

    you smile awkwardly, trying to regain some amount of composure. he watches you, heavy lidded, one hand still clutching your knee as the other curls around your throat, just where your neck and shoulders meet. the way he stares at you, it’s like he doesn’t even realise he’s doing it. 

     “so,” you begin. “you’re worry wasn’t actually just for your family name, was it?”

   draco sighs, plonking his forehead against your own. “no, y/n, it wasn’t. my worry was losing you. which i very nearly did tonight.”

   “don’t be so dramatic. i wouldn’t have died.”

   “you could have.”

   “but i wouldn’t have, because that guy was drunk, and a muggle, and-”

   “are you two arguing again?”

   you and draco jump apart as narcissa storms into the lounge, wand clutched to her chest. her narrowed eyes are firm on draco. 

   “i told you to keep them comfortable!” she exclaims. “can you not put your differences aside for ten minutes?”

    you grin, teasingly running a finger along draco’s spine. “yeah draco. listen to mummy.”

    he growls, but turns to narcissa and says, “sorry, mother. you know how y/n gets.”

   “yes, i know,” narcissa mumbles. “but they’re injured. now, let me take this phone call, and then we’ll set up the guest bedroom. can i leave you alone for ten more minutes?”

   “yes,” you and draco both reply immediately. narcissa hums, and walks out.

   draco immediately spins, grabs your wrist and pulls you to him, slamming his lips to yours. you laugh against his mouth, melting into the embrace for only a second before pulling away and saying, “she’s trusting us to behave for ten more minutes, draco. this isn’t behaving.”

    “oh, fuck that,” he scoffs. “come here.”

   you let him pull you closer, closer than you have ever been with him before, because you’ve always been so convinced he never wanted you more than a few feet away from him. suddenly, everything draco has ever said to you is reconstructed in your mind, every action, every little look. 

   you wonder if he’s doing the same. 

#harry potter #harry potter fanfic #harry potter fic #harry potter fanfiction #draco malfoy #draco malfoy fanfic #draco malfoy fic #draco malfoy fanfiction #hp fanfic #hp fanfiction #hp fic #hp #draco x reader

[the-dream-team]

hi dylan! i've seen you around a lot but never interacted with your posts before (a tragic error) so i wanted to remedy that by saying that 'July' was very beautiful and utterly perfect!

P.S. I've heard some mumblings about Shirtless James May 👀👀 here is my formal request for you to participate 😂

Oh my gosh, hi! I’ve definitely seen your username around, so it’s lovely to finally say hello :) That’s so sweet, I’m glad you liked July- it was very fun to write! And you know what else was fun to write? This ridiculous one shot for Shirtless JP May, dedicated you, @sunshine-marauders <3

Three Times Lily Evans Did NOT Want to See James Potter Shirtless and One Time She Most Certainly Did

***

“Mr. Potter, please put your trousers back on, my boy!”

“Sir, I would, but there’s just no way of telling if this potion might be poisonous, and I’d rather play it safe.”

Lily’s eyes narrowed as she shrugged off her own robes, now covered head to toe in acidic slime from the Dungbomb that had just exploded in her and Sev’s cauldron. The purple liquid smelled something foul, but there was nothing poisonous about what was once a perfectly brewed Sleeping Draught. James Potter knew that, but he’d stripped down to his pants regardless. 

“Really, Professor Slughorn, I don’t mind,” Potter continued while he sauntered back to his own workstation, bare chest puffed out as though he wasn’t practically nude in the middle of the damn classroom. His display garnered a collection of giggles from around the dungeons and a wolf whistle from Remus. “And who am I to deny my fellow third years of this view?”

Lily scoffed. She couldn’t speak for her classmates, but she knew her own view consisted of scrawny limbs, knobbly knees, and the most insufferable smirk known to wizardkind. And when he turned to her with fingers running through his hair and an infuriatingly pointed look in her direction, Lily balled her hands into fists, nails digging into her palms to keep herself from reaching out to smack that stupid grin and those lopsided glasses clean off his face.

***

“There’d better be a good explanation for this, Potter.”

“It kills me, Evans, because there is an excellent explanation for our current predicament- one that I think you’d find admirable and impressive- but unfortunately we’re sworn to secrecy, so you’ll just have to assign us detentions and continue on with your rounds for the night.”

Lily turned, exasperated, to Remus, whose Prefect’s badge looked awfully heavy on his robes that night. He didn’t meet her eye, instead focusing on his three naked friends standing before them in the middle of the first floor corridor. Well, mostly naked. Each of the fifth year Gryffindor boys held strategically placed Shrivelfig leaves to cover their most intimate areas, but only Peter looked as though that protection was a matter of life or death. Sirius stood as casually as he always did, completely unphased to find himself caught clothesless in the middle of the night, and James somehow looked more confident than usual (if that was even possible) with his chest on full display. He seemed to be strategically flexing every Quidditch-trained muscle as he grinned down at her with that pointed look she’d become far too familiar with. She spent every last drop of concentration keeping her eyes locked on James’ face to avoid any potential… drifting. 

“Did you have any luck?” said Remus after a moment. Lily whipped around in shocked betrayal. He couldn’t possibly approve of this behaviour?

“Not this time,” Sirius responded, “but I got bloody close. Don’t think having clothes makes a difference, but it was worth trying.”

“I’d say we should be on track to making it work before the end of the month,” added James, his crooked grin turning into a proper smile. 

Remus’ eyes sparkled. “Holy shit, that’s brilliant.”

Lily let out a frustrated grunt before turning on her heel to storm away from the disrobed boys and her fellow Prefect, upset that Remus wouldn’t take their duties seriously, but thankful to be out of sight from James’ sharp gaze, finally able to let the blush she’d been desperately fighting back escape across her cheeks.

***

“I’m sorry, Evans, but I don’t make the rules. You’ve got to lose an article of clothing or else you’ll have to forfeit.”

“That’s bollocks, Black, you literally came up with the idea for Strip Exploding Snap this evening.” 

The sixth years were circled up around the Common Room’s fireplace, loose socks and sweaters littering the floor, a half-empty bottle of stolen Firewhisky passing around from hand to hand. If it weren’t for Mary’s ridiculous crush on Sirius, Lily would never have found herself anywhere near this kind of event, but she’d decided to be a good friend, and now she was down to an undershirt and knickers. It was unclear whether her face burned red from the whiskey or the nerves. 

“Look, Evans,” Sirius continued with an air of indifference, “if you’re not going to participate, you can just put your cards back in the pile-”

“I’ll do it for her!” James nearly shouted as he jumped up from his seat, swaying slightly. His eyes as glossy as the crooked glasses falling down his nose. He reached for the collar of his white t-shirt, grabbing hold to pull it over his head, but a competitive rush propelled Lily to her feet. 

“No!” she protested before the shirt could make its way too far up James’ stomach. He froze in place, peering over the fabric at her in confusion. “You can’t just play for me, Potter, that’s not fair. I want to win on my own.”

“Really, Evans, I don’t mind,” laughed James, finally following through to remove the shirt completely. His glasses came off in the process, stuck in the fabric, and Lily nearly choked as her mouth went dry at the full sight of him, broader and fuller than she’d remembered. Had she ever seen him without his glasses before? His face as naked as his torso? She needed another drink. 

“I’m not going to let you cheat,” she said, actually stomping her foot in the process. And to prove the dedication to her claims, she stripped down to her bra and sent James her most determined, pointed stare. His glasses made their way back to his face so fast, he nearly poked his eye out. “Now, put your shirt back on, Potter, or I’ll come over there and do it myself.”

“That’s not the threat you think it is, Evans,” he breathed, nearly choking on his words. 

Lily thought her leaping heart must be horribly visible through her exposed skin.

“Do you both need the rest of us to leave?” chimed in Sirius, throwing Lily from her rapidly spiraling thoughts. 

She immediately sat back down, throwing James his shirt in the process, desperately trying to contain the butterflies threatening to escape through her throat. His shirt never made it back over his head and the rest of the night no longer passed in minutes, but instead in glances stolen from across the room.

***

“Whatever is the problem, Miss Evans, my dear?”

“Sir, I accidentally spilled an entire vial of Mermaid venom all over Potter. It’s burned straight through his robes and I’m worried it might be serious. Do you mind if I leave to take him to Madam Pomfrey’s?”

Professor Slughorn fumbled out a concerned response, granting his blessing, and Lily spared no time grabbing James by the wrist to drag him out of the classroom and through the dungeons. His eyes were wide as he studied the golden liquid eating through the fabric of his sweater. “Is this poisonous?” he asked, fingers fumbling with his deteriorating uniform. 

Lily spun around with emerald fire behind her eyes. “It is,” she responded, stopping him in his tracks as they turned a corner. “So we ought to play it safe and get these off you.”

She watched his eyes flash with sudden realization before she pulled off his sweater and made quick work of the buttons on his shirt.

The knowing grin that broke out across James’ face sent waves of elation through her heart, radiating out to find him again and pull him down to her. Their mouths met with smiling lips and heavy sighs, eager to reconnect after what felt like ages apart, but in reality, couldn’t have been more than an hour. 

“What did I do to deserve this?” James asked through jagged breaths as he grabbed for the door handle to the nearest broom closet, dragging Lily in after him by the waist. 

“You gave me that look,” she said, laughing slightly as she moved her hands up his warm skin to comb through his tousled hair. “That bloody pointed look you get that drives me crazy.” She kissed him and he deepened it before pausing. 

“Wait. You poisoned me because I looked at you?”

“I spilled poison on you because I wanted to get your shirt off.”

He beamed, his smile brightening the dim, crowded cupboard as he brought his hands up to hold her face. “Well, in that case, who am I to deny you this view?”

She scoffed. Then kissed him again.

#shirtless james potter may #i wasn't going to participate to this extent #but you asked so nicely! #<3 #jily fic #jily #james potter #lily evans #one shot #shirtless jp may

[secret-rendezvous1d]

spence seeing you with kids and he’s just 🥺🥺🥺🥺 need to put a baby inside her asap!!!

Oh, god... just him being so informal towards the whole ‘I want a baby with you’ conversation has me reeling-

It’s inappropriate.

Not the fact that he wants to have children with one of his fellow agents, one of his friends who he had a lot of time and space for, and not because his thought process always ended up along the lines of wanting her squirming beneath him as he fucked into her real hard and real deep. Of course, really, it wasn’t ideal in their situation but what she didn’t know wouldn’t kill her. In retrospect, it would kill him before it killed her. But he knew it was incredibly inappropriate to have a specific thought, that involved the intimate nature, during a murder case that involved a child in the middle... 

But she handled it so well. The case that was usually hard-hitting and the crime that was so disgusting and the unsub but she took a bite of the bullet and put all her vulgar thoughts, simply about what her kind of punishment would be to a suspect who thought kidnap was the best option to suffice their emotional loss and murder to aid the jealousy, to one side so she could care for and look after and hold the small child who had been through hell until they arrived. 

It always surprised him how she wasn’t a mother yet.

Let alone, a wife to a man who he would deem as the luckiest man to walk the planet. 

There was nothing sweeter, nothing more heartwarming, than seeing her be so gentle with a crying child who needed someone to give comfort. YN was always that person; the person children seemed to confide in, the person that children seemed to content with, the only person that could break through and truly dig deep until the truth came out because she was so nurturing. 

*

She worried for him sometimes.

He was her best friend, and she was his, and they new each other like the back of their hands. They knew what triggered the other and they knew the signs of their upset, they knew each others expressions, they knew when they needed time to themselves and they knew when they needed time away from work to gather whatever sense of sanity they still had after a tough day. 

So when he sat by himself on the journey home, picking at his fingers and biting his nails and barely looking up from his lap, it made YN’s mind query and worry because it had been a tough case and if he needed to talk then he could do so without being judged. Not that any other member of the team would judge him for feeling down... she knew, because he never fell short in telling her, he felt safe when talking to her than he ever did talking to Hotch or Rossi. 

“Are you feeling okay?”

Spencer’s torn from his thoughts by the sweet sound of YN’s voice and all he can do is smile at her and nod. 

He was feeling okay; the case never bothered him, it wasn’t one that failed and it wasn’t one that resulted in something for him to feel guilty over. His sickness wasn’t back, his migraines were long forgotten about, and he truly felt like he was at his prime for health. His mind was fuzzy, full of her, and it wasn’t fair to her if he told her, just what he’d been thinking about for the first half of their flight back to Virginia, in the quiet and rather tightly confined cabin of the jet where their conversation would have been amplified for all to hear. 

“Spence, you can tell me.”

“I’m fine,” he says with a smile, his dimples peeking out upon his cheeks and his eyes crinkle as his mouth curves up into the sweetest grin he could muster up and give to her, “I promise, I’m fine.”

She stops with the conversation when she gets the hint that he just didn’t want the conversation to progress any further. She could feel the eyes of Derek that bored into the side of her head, her gut was telling her that JJ and Emily were whispering about the two of them and it didn’t take long for Hotch to pick up on the atmosphere and join in with the glances and the gentle smirks that everyone had upon their faces. 

“I’m okay,” he whispers, squeezing her hand softly and turning his head so he could look at her with sincerity in his features, “thank you for worrying.”

*

Goodbyes.

YN always thought it was a pointless conversation to have, after they touched down and arrived back at the unit, because it was less than twelve hours before they would be seeing one another again. But, even though it wasn’t protocol, it felt like it was compulsory to bid adieu to one another with a hug or a shake of the hand or a kiss on the cheek with someone making a promise to bring coffee and bagels back to the office in the morning. It was a lovely conversation but it only really needed a ‘see you later’ because they really did see one another later in the day. 

As she said goodbye to Garcia and watched the elevator doors close, and she turned on her feet to walk back into the bullpen, nerves clung to her insides in a way that made her feel sick. Which she though was strange. She never felt like that whenever she and Spencer were left alone because she loved the extra minutes she got with him. Personal minutes that allowed them to be themselves and not worry about being told off or bringing HR into the office because they did something they shouldn’t have.

But she needed to ask him. She’d go home and sleep better knowing the truth rather than believing him and questioning whether he was truly fine.

“We’re alone now,” she points out and he looks up from the paperwork sitting on his desk to take a look around the room, “do you want to tell me what was bothering you on the jet? Because something had you picking at your nails.”

He gulps thickly.

“Spence? You can tell me.”

He stands to his feet and makes his way down the aisle of the bullpen, desks on either side of him and desk chairs untucked and left in their positions from where the occupant had left it upon their exit for the night, computers turned off and pens left on the desktops because no one was as organised as Spencer was when it came to tidying up at the end of a long day. And YN watches him as he walks and she wants to follow him to wherever he was going. His bag was still tucked under his desk and the paperwork was half-finished and his desk was still disorganised so she guessed he was only going for a coffee.

That was until he came to an abrupt halt in the middle of the room.

“Spencer? Are you-”

He turns on his heels and his feet drum thuds into the floor, echoing around the room, and it was almost like he was charging towards her and she couldn’t get the rest of her sentence out. His face was set in stone, his jaw rigid and his eyes dark and the soft look on his face (which she, and everyone else, was used to) had dissolved into something so lustrous. His tongue licked over his lips and he dampened the pink flesh that seemed so plump all of a sudden, inviting and soft and she knew they would taste like him, her heart thumping in her chest at a pace she was surprised he couldn’t hear... or see. It felt like her ribs would break.

“Spencer-”

Usually, when she stands beside him, he’s tall but it’s not intimidatingly tall. He teases her for barely reaching his his shoulder but all she does to him is nudge an elbow into his side and leave it at that... it’s banter. Their kind of banter. But, when he stands before her, it’s intimidating and he towers over her and she wants to push him away and laugh because it’s just something he would do to her when he wants to play jokes. Yet, the heavy breathing and the puffed out chest and the dark look in his eyes... she couldn’t help but quiver under his gaze.

“Spence-”

He lays a finger upon her mouth and he drops his chin a little closer to his chest and he never lets his stare leave her face. Her cheeks flush, her thighs tighten and she can feel flutters in her stomach that, really, shouldn’t show towards him. She was professional, he was professional, yet there they were. 

“Why has no one claimed you yet?” He whispers and there’s a gentle crack in his voice that keeps his words coming out in a course and croaky manner, “you deserve to be someone’s. Why has no one done that?”

“I don’t under-”

He shakes his head and she brings her sentence to a halt. She’s confused, she doesn’t know what to make of the situation, but she’s not complaining... there are times when all she can think about is Spencer and taking control and having her where he wanted her.

“You deserve to live a life of happiness. You deserve the kind of life that brings you kids, a husband, a good career. Why hasn’t anyone given you that?” And she shrugs as her answer but it’s a rhetorical question, and she knows it was a rhetorical question, but he made her feel like she needed to give an answer in a life or death situation. “Why hasn’t anyone fucked you yet? Why hasn’t anyone fucked you, put a baby in you, claimed you for life? You deserve a good fuck.”

Her eyes widen.

She needed to double take, rewind and re-hear just what he had said. Spencer Reid speaking dirty? Being in control? Speaking vulgar? Telling her she needed a good fuck? The ground should have been swallowing her whole right now but she was sure that she would’t let it.

“Spencer-”

“You need it. You should have a baby fucked into you,” he whispers lowly, kind of like a growl that rolled off his tongue so deliciously, and his breath washed over her face. The smell of coffee lingering on his breath, “don’t you think? You and kids go well together, you’d be a great mum, and no one has given that to you yet.”

Her throat goes dry but that doesn’t stop her from gulping back the lump in her throat that sat heavy and made her feel suffocated.

“I could fuck you here. Right here, right now, against your desk. Fuck you good, hard, like you deserve, yeah?” Her silence wasn’t voluntary because she knew what she wanted to respond with. She just couldn’t get out the right words to say, she didn’t know how, because her mind was still clouded by the scene that stood before her. “You want that, don’t you? You want me to fuck you here?”

Consider me a fool, she thought to herself as she nodded her head. xx

#spencer reid chats #spencer reid smut #spencer reid imagines #i don't know what to consider this....

[hermannsthumb]

Okay but what about Hermann is just horny 24/7, but he's repressing his feelings. And Newt who sees it and maybe is enjoying a bit. And one day Newt just pins Hermann to a lab wall, ties his arms with a belt or sleeves of his shirt and teases Hermann until he melts in his hands. And Newt murmurs to Hermann something like "sweetheart, you could have just said.." This thought makes me DEAD

a fic! somewhat obviously rated 18+/not for kids' eyes!!!!! so all hidden below the cut, lmfao. dedicated to people on side twitter bc boy do I love some light d/s + nerm

It’s not like Newt’s never looked at Hermann before. Look-looked, in like, a sexy, considering way. It gets lonely in the lab with just the two of them, after all, and usually Hermann is the only face Newt will see for hours, days, one memorable occasion when they were super-swamped with work, a week. His face is the only one that comes to mind when Newt wants to have sexy thoughts for that reason—it’s just, like, easier and takes less imagination to masturbate to the thought of the guy you see every day than anyone else. And Hermann is kind of hot, Newt guesses, in a weird, repressed nerd kind of way. He thinks it has something to do with not knowing what Hermann's bothering to repress so bad. Maybe he's got a hot bod under all those layers or sucks dick like a porn star or something. Or he's hiding how horny he is all the time and would love nothing more than to cut loose for once. (Newt would be happy to take one for the team!) It's gotta be that, because Newt can't imagine why else the thought of Hermann—scowling and hunching over a chalkboard in one of his god-awful tweed blazers—gets him so goddamn riled up every time he sticks his hand down his pants.

Whatever the appeal is, Newt's masturbatory fantasies tend to tilt towards very particular (and well-loved) scenarios: Hermann finally gets fed up with Newt’s obnoxious behavior and shoves him against a wall to teach him a lesson, or Hermann holds Newt down on a bed or the lab couch or the floor and has his way with him to teach him a lesson, or Hermann grips Newt’s shoulders and uses his mouth in any way he sees fit to teach him a lesson. Newt's real into the idea of Hermann being in control. Or, in other words, Hermann doing the doing, Newt doing the taking. Not that Newt is adverse to topping. He'd be down for it if Hermann was. (And not that Newt spends a lot of time considering what Hermann is down for, and whether or not letting Newt top him is on that list, but yeah, Newt does kind of hope it would be.)

He's just...always assumed Hermann would want things that way. Newt's kind of assumed that he would want them that way, too.

All of his preconceived sexy notions about Hermann come crashing down around him one completely ordinary day in the lab.

It happens in a flash, too. A couple of seconds max. Hermann is over in Newt's space (he flagrantly disobeys the tape line more than Newt does, no matter what he may claim), shouting at him about something dumb and waving his cane around for dramatic effect. Only he's not looking where he's waving it, and the end of it comes into contact with a vial of some somewhat lethal weird kaiju gland extract that Newt's been planning on experimenting with this week, and the whole thing fuckin' shatters. "Shit!" Newt says, at the same time Hermann says "Bugger," and, before Newt knows it, Hermann's reaching out to save a pile of Newt's lab notes from certain kaiju gland death.

Which is royally stupid of him. That stuff is already eating through Newt's wooden work bench like it's nothing—God knows what it'd do to Hermann's skin. Newt's messy notes are not worth it.

"Dude, no," Newt exclaims, and grabs Hermann's wrist to stop him.

And Hermann...moans.

They stare at each other. The kaiju gland extract drips to the metal floor, where it sizzles harmlessly.

Hermann pulls his arm away.

"Clean this up," he snaps. He turns heel and storms out, giving Newt a spectacular view of the fiery red flush spreading down the back of his neck.

Huh, Newt thinks. That's something new.

-----

"I'm not some sort of sexual deviant," Hermann assures him. "I have. Er. Entirely respectable—tastes. Typically."

"Uh-huh," Newt says.

"Only this is quite out of character for me," Hermann says.

Newt pulls his tie taut around Hermann's wrists to watch Hermann squirm and grins, just a little, before knotting it loosely. "No offense, Hermann," he says, "but bondage isn't exactly hardcore. Besides, it's fine if you like out-there kinda stuff. No judgement."

“But I don’t,” Hermann says.

“I’m not saying you do,” Newt says, “I’m saying—”

“And this isn’t bondage.” Hermann sniffs. “Bondage sounds—”

"Look, dude, do I need to gag you?" Newt jokes.

Except Hermann maybe doesn't get the joke: his eyes widen, and mouth hangs open. Not exactly the shouty, loud response and demand for respect Newt was expecting. Also something new. Newt's learning a lot of very, very unexpected things about Hermann, and part of him wishes he had a notebook or his tape recorder on hand to take inventory of all of it. Subject A (Hermann Gottlieb) likes having his wrists pinned and his big dumb mouth shut up. Conclusion: ? "I—I beg your pardon?" Hermann says.

Today marks a week after the kaiju gland incident. A week of furtive glances across the tape line, Hermann's badly-hidden blushes, and Newt reevaluating every single goddamn thing he's ever thought or assumed about the guy (and himself, to be honest), and Newt was finally the one to snap. In Newt's defense, it wasn't totally out of the blue. At lunch time an uncharacteristically quiet and bashful Hermann slid a cup of coffee onto Newt's desk, mumbling something about how Newt really needed to get more sleep, and Newt just...

Hermann didn't moan when Newt grabbed his wrists that time; his tongue darted out over his lips, and he looked at Newt through the dark eyelashes of his half-mast eyelids. "Please," he had said.

Newt gets why Hermann was being so weird and cagey about it, he really does. It’s hard to admit to yourself you want something kinda embarrassing, and Newt knows it’s just as embarrassing for Hermann to like him as it is for Newt to like Hermann. Newt’s weird, and small, and probably smells bad, and Hermann’s weird, and smells bad (cigarette smoke and moth-eaten sweaters, but Newt jerks off to it anyway, huh, doesn't he), and is slightly not as small. But holy shit, if he didn’t melt into a puddle when Hermann breathed that out all desperately, like it took all he had.

“Do you want me to gag you?” Newt says.

He’s using the skinny tie Hermann claims to hate so much on his wrists, or he might’ve seriously balled up the fabric and shoved it into Hermann’s mouth. There’s not much else in the way of gags readily on hand in the lab, no fabric scraps or anything like that. Maybe they’ll try it later. He kisses Hermann instead, slipping his tongue past those open lips, and Hermann parts them wider with a throaty groan. "Ah, Newton—"

Newt didn’t really expect their first kiss to go like this. He didn’t expect their first kiss to, like, happen in the first place, but it’s especially weird that it’s happening while Hermann is bound up and pressed up against his chalkboard. Newt's been keeping an eye on Hermann's leg, careful of any sign that it's going to give out and that they should move this to the couch, but Newt's knee between both of Hermann's seems to be all the support he needs. “I’m here, dude,” he says, and slips down to press a gentle kiss to Hermann’s jaw instead, then his neck. Hermann tilts his head back with another groan; he flexes against his restraints.

Is Newt the first person Hermann's ever done this with? Or trusted enough to tell he wants to do this?

The possibility kinda just makes this all hotter to Newt. He drags the tips of his fingers up Hermann's chest, feeling his heart pound through the thick layers of his button-down and sweatervest, and drags them back down. He stops just at Hermann's bound wrists. Hermann groans softly. "Do you want me to touch you more?" Newt says.

"Please," Hermann says, "ah, please, Newton—"

Newt does, smiling as he curls up on the toes of his boots and presses another kiss to Hermann's mouth. His right hand, he uses to ruck up Hermann's sweatervest and dig under his shirt; his left hand, he curls the fingers of in Hermann's skinny tie bindings to tug sharply. Hermann's chest is bony and warm beneath his palm. His heart is beating faster, and faster. "Please," Hermann begs again, and this time when Newt kisses him, he sags against Newt helplessly.

"Hermann," Newt murmurs. Hermann's breath is fogging up his glasses and making it difficult for him to see. Which is a goddamn shame, because Newt wants to, like, memorize the image of a flushed and panting and begging Hermann, tattoo it to his skin forever as a reminder of today, a whole big splash of color on his back where he was planning on putting another kaiju. Yeah, Newt takes back what he said earlier, Hermann isn't just kinda hot—he's very hot. He drags his tongue over Hermann's pulse point, and says, just as gently, "Hermann, you could've just said."

Newt would've done anything for Hermann when he grabbed Hermann's wrists and Hermann breathed out a simple please, and Newt would do anything for Hermann now. Newt would get every single tattoo removed if it meant making Hermann happy. He bites down on the sweaty, pale skin of Hermann's neck, unable to hold back a moan of his own when Hermann's whole body writhes with it, and shoves his hand down Hermann's oversized slacks.

"I want you to come," Newt mumbles, rubbing at him furiously, "I want you to come, I wanna make you come, I wanna—"

Hermann muffles his cry in Newt's shoulder when he does. Newt waits until he's stopped shaking to untie his wrists carefully, and isn't surprised when Hermann immediately grabs Newt's shoulders to steady himself. (Hermann thighs are still trembling from the awesome orgasm Newt gave him. It's pretty hot. But also, Newt should probably grab his cane for him.) "You—you've made a terrific mess of me," Hermann sniffs, vaguely annoyed, like he's reprimanding Newt for knocking a piece of kaiju intestine on the floor again.

Newt decides not to mention to Hermann that he kinda soaked the knee of Newt's jeans, too. He can do laundry later. "Sorry, man," Newt says, but Hermann gives another, happier sniff when Newt kisses his cheek. "I'll take care of it."

#newmann #maria's fanfiction tag

[volleychumps]

hii can i request something with tsukki and maybe ushijima where they have a really big soft spot for their s/o and they’re so sweet to her that she genuinely doesnt know how mean/intimidating they are to other people? but then they’re see how they are with others and then *schocked pikachu face*

shocked pikachu face indeed~, enjoy love! 

Softie. (hc w/ Tsukishima and Ushijima) 

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

Tsukishima 

- Blonde (sometimes) bitchy boy made it an odd point to kind of make excuses for why you couldn’t come visit the volleyball club after school 

- Would give you a small, half-grin when you would visibly pout as you claim that it’s not fair- you wanted to see what your boyfriend invested so much time in- as he gives you forehead kisses to lighten your pout 

- “You’re cuter when you’re not mad at me.” “I’m not mad!!!” “Sure.” 

- Isn’t super big on PDA so it’s no surprise to anyone that a lot of people don’t know just how far this blonde broomstick would go for you 

- Like literally when you’re in private he can’t keep his hands off you, whether it be playing with the ends of your hair as he listens to music or lifting your knuckles to his lips when he wants attention 

- So imagine you’re surprise when you rush to the volleyball club after school with his favored pair of forgotten headphones in hand only to walk in on the worst kind of conversation 

- “Awh~ Is the King getting fussy because he’s falling back to his old ways?” 

- what the actual fuck who is this 

- continues, still not seeing you as some of his teammates fall on your figure standing at the doorway behind him- Yamaguchi putting a finger to his lips to his best friend with widened eyes 

- Like you’re so shocked you’ve never heard his voice dripping with so much intent to dig underneath someone’s skin 

- “Did you not learn anything from being alone all the time?” “Tsukki-” 

- “And you, Hinata- just because you can spike and have an ungodly amount of energy doesn’t mean-” 

- glares at Suga as his senior physically turns him around so he’s facing your direction, eyes framed by spectacles widening a fraction as you recover from your shock as quickly as you can 

- narrows his eyes as you smile a bit nervously at him before Tsukishima sighs as if he was facing a heavy inconvenience that tugged at your heart- and not in a good way 

- “U-Um, I’ll just uh, leave these here.” “Y/N-”

- but you don’t stay to listen before you’re spinning on your heel to leave the gym, groaning when the blonde easily catches up to you in four strides as you still, his hand on your wrist 

- “Y/N.” “I shouldn’t have come- I was just-” 

- hugs you gently, pulling your waist back so your back is flushed against his front, making you bite your lip as Tsukishima’s lips fall next to your ear 

- “Do you hate me now?” 

- is shocked when you do a whole-ass 360 with a wtf are you talking about expression on your face

- “Listen Kei-” Oh shit you in trouble now, boy "The next thing you say something so dumb, I’ll harm you!” 

- is smirking now as you stomp your feet, pouting up at him as you sigh, picking up his hand to drag your thumb across the ridges

- “I could never hate you- just...I wasn’t expecting to hear you talk like that with your boys. But it’s no biggie.” “Wait, really? And they’re not my boys-” 

- “Yes, dummy. But remember, pull what you did back there with me and I will not hesitate to withold kisses for a month.” 

- “What are you, the devil?” As he smirks, leaning down to place a not witheld kiss on your pout

Ushijima 

- Don’t even get me started on how much this boy actively shows his love for you, albeit not as affectionate as some would think 

- 100% the type of boyfriend to remember all the little things about you, and when he exhibits his knowledge of stuff, it’s really just to see you smile 

- “Coffee. I ran by the shop this morning.” “Love, you didn’t have to-” “You have an exam today, right?” 

- So when he sees your small grin into your coffee cup he thinks waking up the extra hour to go is so worth it 

- Sends you messages to make sure you make it to your destination safe and gives you updates on his whereabouts to ensure you won’t worry about him

- Doesn’t show you off to the whole school- but it’s pretty clear that he makes it known: rubbing the small of your back as he guides you through school, and ruffles your hair a tad affectionately before seeing you off to class

- Shrugs when you say that you want to come observe a volleyball practice, but makes you sit a safe distance away to ensure that you won’t get hit 

- At first, you’re surprised at how distanced Ushijima seemed from the rest of the team, the others simply nodding to him (minus Tendou that little shit lmao) in praise when he lands a perfect spike

- But you weren’t expecting for the whole team to still into silence when a ball goes flying in your direction, but still missing you by a long shot as Ushijima’s brows furrow together

- An expression you had never seen before sending a chill down your back

- Your jaw slackens as Goshiki bows deeply to his senior as if he was his servant, exhibiting the difference in how the team seemed to establish the line between themselves and their star spiker 

- “U-Um, I’m okay!” you call out, offering Ushijima the smile he loved so much as you see him visibly relax as Goshiki flinches when he turns back to him

- “...be more careful.” “Yes, senpai!” 

- Was he always this...respected to the point where people were actually scared of him?

- Walks up to you after practice, sipping deeply from his water bottle before occupying the seat next to you in the empty bleachers and now empty gym 

- “Are you...surprised?” As he looks down at his feet, hunched over so his elbows rest on his thighs, and you quirk a brow in response as he seems to scoff a little 

- “That others find me intimidating? Are you going to start after what you saw?” “What? No.” 

- Blinks, eyes widening at your immediate reaction and at how genuinely upset you seemed that he would think that 

- “Are you crazy? Never.” as you shake your head vigorously, causing a rare smile to tickle the corners of your boyfriend’s mouth

- “I’ll admit, I wasn’t expecting it, but if that’s a side of you- I don’t care what other people think.” 

- is rendered 50% more speechless than usual as you sigh, resting your head on his shoulder as if you were tired

- “Don’t say things like that.” 

- Glances at you as an arm drapes around your shoulder, tugging you a bit closer as Ushijima leans his head onto yours, closing his eyes 

- “Mm.” 

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

General works: @kasandrafaye @savemesteeb @dreebbles @takemetovalhalla @yams046

#haikyuu!! #haikyuu anime #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu tsukishima #tsukishima kei #tsukishima x reader #haikyuu ushijima #haikyuu karasuno #karasuno #haikyuu shiratorizawa #shiratorizawa

[lostinthewiind]

𝘋𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘚𝘩𝘰𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘔𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳

Tsukishima Kei - Haikyuu

Synopsis: before you met Tsukki, Yamaguchi was the go-to person for girls who wanted to confess their love for the tall, blonde middle blocker. Now that the two of you are friends, however, you collect love confessions for him on the daily. And why shouldn’t you? You and Tsukki are just friends; you say so yourself all the time.

Rating: PG

Warnings: None

“You’re sure you don’t mind?”

You shook your head as you took the letter and box of chocolates from the small, trembling girl before you. “No, not at all.” You forced a sweet smile. “I’ll be sure to tell him.”

The girl grinned wide, her face lighting up. “O-okay, thank you! I don’t think I could ever tell him in person about how I feel.”

“He’s really not as scary as everyone likes to think he is,” you said as you tucked the gifts of affection into your bag, pretending to pay careful attention but in reality, not exactly caring whether the card got crumpled or if the candies melted. 

The girl’s cheeks flushed a bright shade of red and she chuckled. “Really? Maybe I’ll try talking to him at lunch then!”

“You should.” You feigned interest, not quite sure why you were encouraging this girl to personally confess her undying love for the boy that you yourself held deep feelings for. Maybe it was because you felt that if you played the part as the supportive best friend, you would eventually just fall into that roll and forget all about how his smirk gave you butterflies or how your heart skipped a beat whenever he offered to share his music with you.

“Okay, I will!” A wave of confidence flooded over the girl’s features. “Well, class is about to start, so I better get going. Thanks again!”

“No problem.” Your assurance fell on deaf ears as the girl turned and headed to class with her friends, the lot of them giggling and whispering as they went. 

As soon as the gaggle of girls had turned the corner and disappeared from sight, you exhaled and turned on your heel to head toward your own classroom. Managing to make it just before the first bell rang, your mood lifted as soon as you spotted your friend sitting in his assigned seat beside yours, eyes closed and headphones positioned over his ears, almost as if they were a permanent fixture of his head.

Fishing the offerings out of your bag, you dropped them down onto his desk rather harshly to get his attention as you slid into your own seat. Hearing the items drop onto his desk and feeling the vibrations through his arms, which had been folded across the tabletop, Tsukki eyed the card and chocolates and sighed.

“Again?” He pulled his headphones away from his ears and hung them around his neck, the music still blaring enough that you could faintly hear the bass. 

“Again.” You confirmed with a slow nod. 

Yamaguchi, who sat on the other side of Tsukki, stared at the gifts with wide eyes. “Wow, Tsukki, you really are popular!”

“I really wish I wasn’t.” He picked up the small box of sweets and tossed them onto Yamaguchi’s desk. “Do you want them?”

Yamaguchi, who was used to laying claim to the rejected love offerings, nodded happily and accepted them. Sometimes he gave them to you as well, and as much as you appreciated the thought, eating the physical representation of unrequited love wasn’t something you particularly enjoyed, so you usually ended up just throwing them out when you got home.

“I wish you would just stop being so mean to everyone who isn’t Tadashi and I, that way people would actually confess their love for you to you and the two of us would be left out of it,” you grumbled. “It’s getting annoying.”

“How do you think I feel?” Tsukki lazily ripped open the card and scanned its contents quickly with his eyes, scoffing at the girly handwriting and hand-drawn hearts. “Pathetic.”

Without a second thought, he handed the card over to you so that you could read it as well. You chuckled to yourself as you took in the words of affection that resembled a Victorian-era love poem. You felt a little guilty about snooping on the private emotions of a girl who, as far as you could tell, seemed perfectly nice; however, you couldn’t deny the joy you experienced when Tsukki shared yet another sappy love note with you, inviting you to participate in the flat-out rejection and tug on your heartstrings just a little bit more. 

As long as he didn’t love anyone else, there was still hope for you. 

“‘The way your eyes sparkle in the sunlight makes my heart sing.’“ You read a particularly descriptive part aloud before handing the card over to Yamaguchi. “If only these poor girls knew that their most vulnerable feelings get scrutinized by a panel of three cynics like us.”

Yamaguchi chuckled heartily as he took his turn reading the card. Before another word could be said on the matter, however, the second bell rang and the teacher strolled into the room, bringing a halt to any and all side conversations.

By the time lunch had rolled around, you had almost completely forgotten about that morning’s events. Your stomach grumbling and your only thought being getting something to eat, you stood up to grab something from the vending machine but stopped in your tracks when you saw the girl from earlier standing by the door, her face even redder than it had been that morning and her eyes drifting from you to Tsukki, who had yet to notice her.

Suddenly, you remembered that you had encouraged the poor girl to talk to Tsukki herself, which even you knew was a horrendous idea. Sure, you had told girls that in the past, but never once had one actually followed through. Usually, you received a love confession, you gave it to Tsukki, you laughed about it together, and the girl would take her broken heart and retreat with her tail between her legs when Tsukki never so much as acknowledged her existence.

This was uncharted territory and you had no idea what to do. 

Turning to Tsukki, you pulled his headphones off—which he absolutely hated, but that was besides the point—and looked him dead in the eyes to set him straight before he could snap at you. “You see that girl by the door?” you asked him, and after glancing past you, he nodded. “She’s the one who gave me the card and chocolates to give to you this morning. She’s going to come in here and talk to you and I need you to not smash her heart into a million pieces. Okay?”

Tsukki opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, the girl had worked up enough courage to make her way into the classroom and was now standing beside the two of you. 

Smiling sheepishly, you backed away to give the two as much privacy as possible and pretended to be busy by digging through your bag for something.

“Tsukishima-san, did you get my card and chocolates?” the girl asked, her fingers intertwined together and her feet shifting weight nervously as she spoke. 

Tsukki simply nodded. With that, Yamaguchi returned from using the bathroom and you stood next to him near the door, the two of you watching from afar as the unknown girl confessed to Tsukki in the partially-full classroom. 

“What do you think he will say?” you inquired out loud.

Yamaguchi shrugged, never taking his eyes off of the interaction before him. “No. He’s never interested in any of the girls that confess to him. I don’t imagine this one will be any different, even if she is doing it in person.”

“Yeah . . . I just hope he doesn’t make her-” You stopped talking mid-sentence when the tears started welling in the girl’s eyes and she turned to rush out of the classroom. “. . . cry,” you finished your thought. 

Rolling your eyes, you returned to your desk, having completely forgot about getting something to eat from the vending machine, and looked to Tsukki, who was completely unfazed. 

“That looked like it went well,” you quipped. “Remind me to never confess my undying love for you.”

“All I did was tell her that I wasn’t interested,” he explained. “I don’t know how I could have possibly been any nicer.”

“Well, no offence, but considering you are you, I’m sure there was a way.”

                                ━━━━━━━━━━━

For the following 24 hours, no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t get the look on that poor girl’s face after being rejected by Tsukki out of your head. Of course, you had no idea what he had actually said to her, but whatever it had been had been enough to make her cry . . . would he say something as equally insensitive if you ever decided to tell him how you felt?

By some stroke of luck, Tsukki wasn’t at school the next day, giving you time to clear your head without having to put up a facade for hours on end. However, you hadn’t been completely alone the entire day, and Yamaguchi was more observant than you had originally thought he was.

“Something’s bothering you,” Yamaguchi said out of nowhere as the two of you walked home after school that day. “Do you want to tell me or do you want me to guess?”

You chuckled softly. “You have three guesses and if you don’t get it right, you have to buy me a snack from the corner store when we pass it.”

“Deal.” Yamaguchi nodded, an aura of self-confidence practically radiating off of him. “Okay, let’s see . . . you got a bad test grade?”

You shook your head, convinced there was no way he could possibly guess correctly. “Nope.”

“You don’t like what your parents are cooking for dinner tonight?”

You snorted. “Nope, that’s not it.”

“Ah, okay. One guess left.” He was silent for a moment as he thought. “Could it be that you’re upset with how Tsukki turned down that girl at school yesterday because you have feelings for him but now you’re afraid that he will reject you in the same way?”

You stopped dead in your tracks, your jaw dropping. Yamaguchi just grinned. The sneaky bastard had been playing you all along.

“I’m right, aren’t I?” He played it off as a lucky guess. “Does this mean you’re buying the snacks then?”

“I . . . I guess so?” You were unsure how to respond. “But, wait, how did you know?”

“Tsukki may be completely oblivious to the general concept of feelings, but I’m not,” Yamaguchi said as he started toward the store that was in sight in the distance. “Now come on, I’m hungry!”

Completely shaken, you moved forward without really thinking about it and followed Yamaguchi. After you paid for two candy bars, the two of you continued on your way, Yamaguchi munching happily as if nothing had even happened and you staring at the still-wrapped treat in your hands, at a loss of words.

“If you knew I liked him this whole time, how come you’ve never said anything?” You finally found your voice.

“Because I figured you would share when you were ready,” he answered. “But now I think you’re never going to tell him because you’re too scared.”

“Of course I’m scared!” You threw your arms into the air dramatically. “You saw the poor girl running away with tears in her eyes. You’ve seen how he laughs at sappy romance stuff. How could I possibly feel anything but scared?!”

Yamaguchi thought for a moment. “Well, sure, it’d be scary if you were anyone else . . . but you’re not. You’re you. Judging by this whole situation, you don’t know this, but he likes you too.”

For the second time in less than an hour, you had been completely floored. “He what now?”

“Did you think he really hung out with you all the time and blatantly turned down other girls’ confessions in front of you because he just thinks you’re a good friend?”

You nodded, flabbergasted. “Y-yes?”

“You two are so unbelievably oblivious it’s actually hard to watch you guys running in circles around each other. Just tell him how you feel. I guarantee he won’t turn you down.” Yamaguchi suddenly stopped in his tracks and gestured to the house behind him; Tsukki’s house. 

Without even realizing it, Yamaguchi had lead you right into your waking nightmare. 

You furrowed your eyebrows. “You conniving little-”

 “You’ll thank me later. You both will.” He shoved you up the walkway to the front door before continuing down the road to his own house. “Good luck!”

“Yeah . . . thanks,” you huffed, eyeing the closed door in front of you. You had stood on this porch a hundred times before, knocked on the door a hundred times before, but today was different. 

Maybe Yamaguchi was right. Maybe Tsukki did like you back, and the only way to know for sure was to simply ask.

Before you could psych yourself out or change your mind, you pounded on the front door three solid times and glued your eyes to the doorknob, waiting for it to turn. 

Less than a minute later, you could heard footsteps inside and felt heat rush to your face. Were you actually going to do this? 

When the door swung open and Tsukki stood before you, dressed in pajama pants and a sweater, definitely looking a little on the ill side, you felt your heart jump into your throat. 

“Hey,” you greeted. “How are you feeling?”

The boy eyed you curiously. “Better now, thanks. Why are you here?”

“I, um . . . I have a confession for you,” you said before you could stop yourself. The words just sort of tumbled out of your mouth and now there was nothing you could do to avoid the situation. 

An amused look spread across Tsukki’s face. “You didn’t need to come all the way to my house for that. Just throw the card out and eat whatever candy came with it. You know the drill. It’s just another girl who-”

“There’s no card or any candies,” you told him and he cocked a brow. “And it’s not from just another girl . . . this one is from me.”

His face paled and his hand dropped from the doorknob he had still been holding onto, an indication that he had been ready to say goodbye to you pretty quickly. Now, however, he seemed to sense the seriousness of the conversation and had decided it was worth sticking around a little longer for.

“I won’t stand here and tell you that your eyes sparkle in the sun or that my heart does backflips when I see you, because you’ve heard that shit a million times,” you said. “But I will say that I like when you share your music with me or when you let me in on your inside jokes. You make me feel really special and I like that. I like you, Kei, and I just thought that I should tell you.”

“Oh.” He looked eerily similar to a deer in headlights and you were just waiting for him to slam the door in your face. But he didn’t. His hand did reach for the doorknob once again, but instead of closing the door, he opened it wider. “Do you want to come watch a new documentary with me?”

That hadn’t exactly been the response you had been expecting, but considering you weren’t currently a sobbing mess, you knew it could have gone a lot worse.

“I would like that.” You smiled and stepped into the house. “I might not have a whole box of chocolates, but I do have this.” You pulled the candy bar out of your pocket. “We can share it.”

“I would like that.” Tsukki closed the door behind you.

From that day on, even though you and Tsukki never officially declared your love for one another or referred to each other as ‘boyfriend’ or ‘girlfriend’, you knew you had moved on from simply being friends.

And sure, sometimes you still got confessions for him from random girls, but it didn’t bother you nearly as much anymore. How could it when you knew, without a sliver of a doubt, that Tsukki only had eyes for you? 

#haikyuu #tsukishima #tsukki #tsukishima kei #tsukishima scenarios #tsukki x reader #middle blocker #yamaguchi #yamaguchi tadashi #reader #reader insert #x reader #lostinthewiind #fanfiction #oneshot #fluff #PG

[blackkatmagic]

Am also excited for labyrinth!! Mayhaps some Helena processing or reacting to what Marc did when they had finished hunting mobsters for the night?

“Spare room is still empty,” Barbara says, distracted by whatever one of the League members is asking. Helena thinks she catches a glimpse of green light, and—the thought of what Bruce would say about Oracle playing tech support for Green Lantern makes her grin despite the weariness that’s heavy in every limb.

“That mattress is awful,” she complains, and instead of making for the spare room she collapses on the long couch against the wall, practically sinking into the cushions. It’s a terrible, awful couch in a truly painful shade of maroon, but Helena has a long-standing adoration of it that manifests as threats to revolt if Barbara ever gets rid of it.

“Then sleep on the floor,” Barbara tells her, merciless. She frowns, entering a few last keystrokes and then sitting back, watching whatever program she’s got running for a long moment before she pushes her chair back from her computer and turns it. The sweep of her eyes takes in Helena’s slightly battered costume, the empty holster on her thigh, the crossbow on the floor, and she smiles. Helena loves that smile. It’s pure guile, and whenever Bruce or Dick insists that Barbara is the nicest of the Bats, Helena has to laugh. Barbara's tempered steel and opaque glass, never quite what you think she should be, and Helena finds that she likes the unpredictability more than she’d ever thought she would.

“I see you and Moon Knight got along,” she says, lancing her fingers and leaning forward to rest her chin on them.

“When you sit like that it makes you look like a supervillain,” Helena tells her, and leaves out the fact that it makes her look hot, too. The on-again, off-again thing with Dick isn't really something Helena keeps track of, because it’s none of her business. It makes the flirting harder to handle, though. From both of them.

“I would make an amazing supervillain,” Barbara says, unbothered, which is equal parts true and absolutely terrifying.

Helena laughs, pulling one leg up to unlace her boot, then the other, and kicking them off. “If you ever go supervillain, I get first dibs on being your henchwoman,” she says, and Barbara smirks, coppery hair sliding over her shoulders and almost hiding the sharpness in her eyes.

“Only if you go back to the costume with the cleavage,” she counters, and then, before Helena can process the flash of heat at the thought of Barbara looking, she asks, “Moon Knight?”

“I'm keeping him,” Helena says without hesitation, because it’s true. Moon Knight waded into a bar fight right next to her, never even blinked at her methods, and didn’t so much as waver when she all but told him her father was mafia. He’s perfect. She hasn’t had someone willing to brawl with her like that in years. Not since Barbara was forced to leave behind the Batgirl mantle, honestly.

Barbara's smile is slow and a little wicked. “Even though Bruce wants him out of Gotham?” she asks.

Helena rolls her eyes, stripping off her gloves and tossing them on top of her boots, her mask following. “Bruce can choke on his cape,” she says without sympathy. “Plenty of people in the League kill when they're forced to, and Bats likes to think he has a monopoly on Gotham, but he doesn’t. If he did try to keep a hero from helping people in the city, when they're only going after bad guys, that would be shitty, and he knows it.”

“I don’t think he realizes that he knows it,” Barbara says, wry. “You know how Bruce is. He’s going to dig his heels in until he’s forced to admit to an emotion.”

Helena pauses, something about that phrasing catching her attention. She tips her head, eyeing Barbara narrowly, and asks suspiciously, “An emotion?”

Barbara laughs, raising her hands. “He does have them, you know,” she points out. When Helena keeps staring, though, she snorts, and says, “When Moon Knight got shot. I saw them together. Bruce was…softer.”

Well. That’s an interesting thing. Helena cocks a brow, and says, “Does Bruce realize that Moon Knight just summoned his god to cover Gotham?”

Barbara's smile is wicked. “Bruce doesn’t even know who Moon Knight is yet.”

That’s even more interesting. Helena laughs, swinging her feet over the side of the couch and sitting up, leaning forward. “There was a god in the sky,” she tells Barbara, and it’s still a little hard to believe. She’d seen the shadow, and the wings, and the wall of darkness around the city like a fortification. “Moon Knight said he’s the doorway. And Bruce Wayne got gooey about him?”

“Before the god part,” Barbara says dryly. “In all fairness. But it will be interesting to see what happens when he realizes.”

Because Barbara isn't going to tell him. Barbara ended up paralyzed by one of the Joker’s mad plots, and Moon Knight killed the Joker, put that particular ghost to rest. Barbara's got her loyalties, but—Helena can understand why they're knotting themselves around Moon Knight, in light of that.

“He’s got a mean left hook, god or no god,” she says, and then pauses, narrowing her eyes. “Wait, this Khonshu, is he, like, a realgod? From an established mythology? Would I find him if I cracked open a world religion book? Or is this another extradimensional entity pretending it’s a god thing?”

Barbara shrugs. “Does it matter?” she asks, a little wry. “Moon Knight believes in him. Khonshu was Egyptian, once, but according to legend he’s a dead god. Maybe it’s something wearing him like a suit, or maybe it’s something pretending, or maybe Moon Knight resurrected a god. I don’t think it makes a difference.”

Barbara's always been the smart one, Helena thinks, amused. Helena’s got good aim, and a good punch, but there’s a reason Barbara leads the Birds of Prey.

“Thoughts on making Moon Knight a Bird?” she asks, leaning forward to give Barbara a smirk. “Honorary, or whatever. His god looked like a falcon there for a minute. I think it should count.”

Barbara laughs. “I was thinking he could be our mascot,” she counters. “Nominal patron god of the Birds of Prey. Khonshu seems to have a thing for warrior priests. I don’t think he’d object.”

“No one should object to having us around,” Helena says breezily. “Zinda’s the life of any party. And Dinah’s probably down with a god who eats hearts and heals human trafficking victims.”

“I’ll start the paperwork, then,” Barbara says, grinning. “Print up a plaque. Should we get Moon Knight a trophy or a condolences card?”

“Both?” Helena offers, and she grins back. Thinks of Moon Knight, perfectly happy to give as good as he got, whether it was in the fight or just when they were bickering, and laughs. “I promised him roses,” she says. “Roses and condolences card in the trophy?”

“Sold,” Barbara agrees, and reaches out. She obviously means to shake on it, but Helena claims her hand, slides off the couch to flop down at her feet, and drops her cheek on Barbara's knee.

“Bruce is going to have an aneurysm,” she says, entirely delighted by the idea. “He’s having feelings about Moon Knight.”

Barbara chuckles, stroking her hair, and she’s really beautiful when she smiles like that. “I’ll show you the tape,” she promises, and Helena is definitely holding her to that.

[On AO3]

#my writing #in labyrinths of reflections #helena bertinelli #barbara gordon #barbarahelena

[marmosa]

you’re no fun.

Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader

Word count: 4k

Warnings: none, i barely proof read this so maybe shitty writing?

A/N: i wrote this for my friend after she pitched me the idea, so this one goes out to her <3 i’m not too confident with this piece but i really do like the second half. hope you guys enjoy :)

***

“We are not talking about this again.”

“Oh come on [y/n], don’t be like that!”

“Fred, I’ve already told you a million times, I’m not telling you who I want to ask me to the ball and I’m most certainly not telling you who I fancy,” [y/n] scoffed, tightening her grip on the books cradled to her chest.

“You’re no fun,” Fred huffed, slouching his shoulders and finally falling back into step with her, “you know if you just told me I could get him to ask you-,”

“I’m quite literally seconds away from hexing you and getting myself banned from the ball all together, don’t try your luck Weasley,” [y/n] narrowed her eyes, the threat ever present in her words.  

“That is the most Slytherin thing you’ve ever said,” Fred paused, a shit-eating grin pulling onto his lips, “Don’t tell me you want some stuck up bad mouther to ask you to the ball?”

[y/n] stopped in her tracks and looked at him an expression so surprised she might as well have been staring at one of the silly little creatures Lovegood was always going on about, “And so what if I did? What’s it to you?”

Her answer seemed to have taken Fred aback as pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, trying to think of a reply. It was [y/n]’s turn to smirk as she chuckled to herself, proud she’d been able to stun him into silence, “Finally gave up, huh?”

As soon as the words left her mouth she was quick to regret it, Fred snapping back to reality, “You honestly think that was going to stop me? I am going to watch you like a Hyppogriff watches its lunch, I’ll get my answer whether you like it or not.”

“Yeah, yeah, keep on dreaming Weasley,” she hummed, trying not to let on that she was just as amused as he was hoping she’d be, “I’ll see you later, Fred.”

“Adieu!” He called from down the hall as he sprinted to make it to his next class on time after insisting on walking her to class.

“Adieu,” she muttered to herself, rolling her eyes in a feeble attempt to sooth the rising pace of her heart.

***

“I think I’ve figured it out.”

[y/n] groaned loudly and banged her head forward onto the table as Fred slid into the seat next to her. She lolled her head to the side and glared up at him, which he ignored and returned the sentiment with a grin.

“He’s a Gryffindor,” Fred claimed triumphantly, his grin only growing wider when [y/n]’s eyes nearly popped out of her head, “So Tessa didn’t lie to me!”

“Of course she told you, oh my god,” [y/n] turned her face back towards the table to hide her panicked expression.

“Well not everything, that was the only hint she gave me if it makes you feel better,” Fred shrugged, noticing her pinched brows and clenched hands in her lap.

“Oh thank the heavens,” she exhaled deeply, sitting back up and digging her palms into her eyes, “you nearly gave me a heart attack!”

“Why’s that? Scared I’m gonna tell him?” Fred teased, poking her in the side.

She swat his hand away and passed him a deadpan stare, “As if, you wouldn’t do it if I asked you not to.”

Fred’s cheeks tinged red which he quickly tried to hide as he tipped his chin up, crossing his arms over his chest, “that’s entirely not true.”

“Whatever you say Freddie,” [y/n] hummed, chuckling to herself and turning back to her papers.

“Say, have you gotten your dress yet? Tessa told me you were gonna go regardless of a partner,” Fred questioned, leaning his cheek onto his balled up fist, a small smile pulling onto his lips when she looked over at him with an excited glint in her eyes.

“It did! Wanna see it? I can show you now, potions work can wait,” She squealed, shutting her books and shoving her papers into her bag, “let’s go!”

[y/n] grabbed Fred’s hand and dragged him out of the Great Hall, pulling him along for most of the way until they reached the staircases. Fred looked down at her with a soft smile as she rambled on about the detailing and the pretty colors of the gown, an endearing look plastered on his face.

“Wait-!” [y/n] exclaimed as they stopped outside the dormitory entrance, the painting watching them both with nosy interest, “I can’t show you yet, it has to be a surprise for the actual ball!”

“Well then why the bloody hell did you drag me all the way out here?” Fred whined, pouting and reaching forward to poke her side again.

She swat at his hands again, “would you cut that out! Bloody hell, you’re dance partner is going to hate you if this is how you’re gonna treat her.”

“Well the jokes on you, I don’t have a dance partner,” Fred huffed, crossing his arms and marching off in the opposite direction.

“Wait, you don’t?” [y/n] asked incredulously, jogging to catch up with him, “why haven’t you asked her yet?

Fred pursed his lips and avoided her curious gaze, “because I’m worried she’s not going to say yes,” he admit quietly.

“I know it’s not fair of me to ask but who did you even have in mind, I might know if she’ll say yes! I frankly know far more than I’d like to about other people’s romantic endeavors, so I might have an answer,” [y/n] explained, looking up at him with eyes full of hope, her nerves hidden beneath still biting at her insides.

Fred swallowed his heartbeat and shrugged, trying his absolute best to calm the red starting to flush his face, “Since I’m not a stubborn git like you,” he paused as she scoffed jokingly, “I was thinking of asking,” his eyes scanned the hallway as he struggled to find an answer that wasn’t the girl standing by his side, his brain finally digging up a person, “Angelina. Yeah, I was thinking of asking Johnson.”

[y/n]’s heart sank to the bottom of her chest, a gaping hole starting to form where her heart had previously been, “Oh. Well, I know Angelina hasn’t take a particular fancy to anyone, so you should be all set. I can always ask her what she thinks of you too, if you want a more solid answer,” [y/n] muttered, trying her best to maintain whatever resolve she was clinging to that kept her tears at bay.

Fred noted the way she sunk into herself and tightened her grip around her books, the light bulb in his head flickering to life- was she upset?

“Thank you for the, uh, offer. I might just take you up on it,” Fred chuckled softly, trying to ease his own emotions while searching for a possible answer as to why she could be upset over this. He’d have to ask Tessa later.

“Of course, well, I have to head off to my next class, see you around Fred,” She pulled a tight-lipped smile, turning on her heel and hopping onto the nearest staircase, leaving Fred alone as she was lifted to the upper floor.

“Well shit,” He cursed.

***

Three days had passed since the Fred’s crappy revelation and as far as [y/n] was concerned she felt no will to attend the next day. Fred had gone ahead and asked Angelina the way he said he would and she watched it happen during their study period to which she quickly made up an excuse to leave the scene.

Tessa had tried her absolute best to console her best friend but it was no use, she had gone through hell and back getting [y/n] to even agree to still attend the ball. Another boy had come to [y/n], but she politely declined, knowing that leading him on would have gotten her nowhere but in trouble.

“Excited to dance the night away tomorrow? I promise I’m a better partner than you’d think,” Tessa giggled, nudging [y/n] in the side.

[y/n] looked up from her hand that she was glaring at intently as she carefully painted her nails a pretty shade that one of their roommates had let her borrow, “excited as always. But you do know, I’m going to avoid you like the plague, right? I’m not ruining your night with Diana.”

“Oh please, she won’t die if I dance with you once!” Tessa rolled her eyes, falling back so she was splayed out over her bed,  “We’ve been dating for a year now, she won’t take it poorly.”

“Still, this is like a once in a moon opportunity. I don’t intend on ruining it,” [y/n] insisted, concrete in her conclusion.

“Goodness, fine! You’re such a hard-head. Just promise me you’ll at least try to have fun?” Tessa pleaded, sitting up to give [y/n] an serious look.

“Whatever soothes your soul,” [y/n] hummed, biting back a smile when Tessa rolled her eyes, falling back once more.

“You’re no fun,” Tessa groaned.

“Not the first time I’ve been told that.” [y/n] giggled.

“Oh really?”

“Yeah, Fred says that to me a lot, he thinks I have a stick up my arse,”  [y/n] chuckled sadly, avoiding Tessa’s sympathetic gaze, “don’t look at me like that, I don’t want to think about it.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Tessa held her hands up defensively.

“Mhm, sure.”

“Shut up.”

“Gladly.”

***

“Tessa!”

Tessa came to a halt in the nearly empty hall, glancing over her shoulder with a confused look as she saw Fred racing towards her. She turned around completely to face him as he skid to a halt in front of her, her brows knit together as she wondered what he could possibly be tracking her down for the morning of the yule ball.

“Hey Fred, what seems to be the problem?”

“I, uh, wanted to ask you a question,” Fred explained through labored breathes as he leaned over, balancing his hands on his knees.

“Shoot.”

“When I told [y/n] that I was asking Angelina to the ball a couple days ago, she looked really upset. And I wasn’t quite sure what to make of so I wanted to ask if she’d told you what had happened?” Fred explained, his heart hammering against his chest.

Tessa’s face fell, a grimace pulling onto her features, “Fred...,” her voice trailed off.

“What?”

“Don’t tell me you haven’t-,” Tessa sighed, grabbing his arm and pulling him to the side of hall to avoid the traffic of other students, “take a wild guess.”

“Well, the only answer I can think of is-,” his eyes widened as a feeling of panic set in, “-oh shit,” Fred felt sick.

“Who did you think that Gryffindor was? Why did you think she left the Great Hall when you asked Angelina? Why did you think she was fine all the way up until she’d found out you asked Angelina? Fred, you’re by no means stupid, but this has got to be the dumbest thing you’ve ever done,” Tessa frowned, not knowing whether to sympathize with his situation or be mad at him.

“I-,” Fred searched for an excuse, but came up blank, “I had no idea. What am I suppose to do now?”

“Well you certainly can’t drop Angelina, not on the morning of the ball. And I don’t think [y/n] is going to want to feel like a last minute option either,” Tessa sighed and shook her head, “I truly can’t offer you much advice here, I think you’re just gonna have to muscle this one out.”

“Yeah,” Fred muttered, dragging his hands down his face, “Thanks Tessa.”

“Mhm,” Tessa offered him a half-hearted smile, “Good luck.”

“Thanks, I’ll need it.”

***

“You look lovely,” [y/n] smiled softly at her best friend in the mirror, zipping up the back of her dress, “Diana is gonna love it.”

“She better, we picked it out together,” Tessa laughed, smoothing out the creases on the bodice.

“Well in that case, she most certainly will love it,” [y/n] beamed.

“Aside from me, look at yourself, you’re just as beautiful as I knew you would be when we took it out of the parcel last week,” Tessa grinned, turning around to face [y/n] who was practically glowing with joy.

“You flatter me,” [y/n] scoffed playfully, dusting off invisible particles off her shoulder, “but thank you.”

“Of course,” Tessa nodded, “you ready to go?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” [y/n] exhaled, rolling her shoulders to sooth the nerves prickling at her skin.

“Then off we go!” Tessa cheered, hooking elbows with [y/n].

The two girls made their way down the stairs towards the Great Hall, eventually splitting off near the entrance when Tessa had to go find Diana among the gaggle of Hufflepuff’s nearby. [y/n] waved bye to her friend, turning on her heel and heading down towards the two main staircases, her hands clutching her dress so tightly she was sure it was going to tear in her fingers.

At the bottom of the staircase stood Fred, George, Seamus, and Oliver all chatting up a storm as they waited for their dates to arrive and join them before heading into the venue. The group of boys suddenly fell quiet when a hushed whisper fell over some of the groups surrounding them, turning around to the source of the sudden change in atmosphere.

“Holy shit,” Fred gasped quietly.

[y/n] descended the stairs, her gown billowing behind her. She looked positively radiant in the soft lighting of the candle lit corridors, her hair done in a way that framed her face perfectly. She carried herself like a queen down the steps, the bodice holding her up like an ancient Greek statue.

“Dude,” George muttered, elbowing Fred lightly, “do you know who she came with?”

“No one, I think, I heard she rejected one of Slytherin heartthrob’s,” Seamus whistled under his breath, answering George in Fred’s place.

Fred couldn’t take his eyes off her, his mind reeling. They way she described the dress didn’t half encompass the way she looked wearing it. Maybe it was good thing she didn’t show him that day, he would have become a complete blubbering mess had she worn it then.

“Are you gonna go talk to her?” George urged, nudging Fred slightly.

Fred finally snapped out of his trance and turned back around, stuffing his hands in his pockets and shaking his head, “I asked Angelina to the ball. It wouldn’t be fair to her for me to start the night off with another girl.”

“That’s for certain, it’s a sure sad thing she came alone though,” Oliver noted, shaking his head.

“I heard it’s because the person she likes asked someone else.”

The boys turned their heads to see Angelina and Clover, Seamus’s date, walking over. Fred felt his heart only sink further when he saw just how lovely Angelina had done herself up for the night, knowing full well he wasn’t at all going to give what she’d come for.

“Is that so?” George hummed, glancing at his brother who looked downright ill, “Well let’s not jump to assumptions, maybe she’s just independent like that.”

“Good point, it’s just something I caught in the girls restroom,” Angelina shrugged, “You boys ready to head in?”

“Seamus and Fred can go on ahead, We’ll stay and wait for our dates,” Oliver nodded towards the doors leading to the Great Hall.

“You’re sure?” Seamus asked, hooking arms with Clover.

“Certain,” George concluded, “See you boys in a bit,” he reached over patting his brother’s back reassuringly.

“See you,” Fred smiled, hooking arms with Angelina, leading her inside.

***

[y/n] sat at a table alone, smiling to herself as she watched Tessa and Diana dance across the ballroom floor, trying to pick out her roommates and their dates while she sipped her punch. She fiddled idly with the folded fabric in her lap, rubbing the material between her fingers to occupy her mind.

“Are you certain you don’t want to dance with me?” Tessa exhaled, both her and Diana stumbling over to the table as the most recent song came to an end.

“I need a break anyway and you look bored to death over here, go have some fun!” Diana teased, plopping down in a seat and slipping off her heels.

“I promise I will not step on your toes,” Tessa reassured [y/n], extending her hand.

“I’ll have to take your word for it,” [y/n] rolled her eyes, taking her hand and rushing off to the dance floor.

The two girls swayed around the dance floor, giggling as they dipped and spun each other unexpectedly, thankfully avoiding each other toes as promised. The surrounding couples all seemed to be enjoying themselves as well, platonic, romantic, or otherwise. [y/n] was overwhelmed with thankfulness at having such kind and caring friends, especially at times like this.

“You know, I hate to be a party pooper,” Tessa started, dipping [y/n] and pulling her back up, “but Fred has been staring at you since the ball started.”

[y/n] felt her eyes go wide as she processed the admittance, looking around the seating area frantically, her mouth running dry when she locked eyes with Fred who was being less than conspicuous staring directly at her.

She snapped her gaze back to Tessa as the song came to an end, “I think I need a breath of fresh air, I won’t be gone long!”

Before Tessa could offer a reply, [y/n] was rushing off, dashing out of the crowd and out to a nearby balcony to get some cold winter air in her lungs and against her sticky skin.

Fred watched [y/n] run out of the Great hall, his brows pinching together as he wondered what could possibly be wrong. Before he could get too sucked into his thoughts, he felt a tap on his shoulders.

“Go to her,” Angelina demanded.

“What?”

“I’ve been watching you this entire night and the only other thing you’ve been doing aside from dancing has been staring at her. You’re a fool if you say otherwise,” Angelina deadpanned a-matter-a-factly.

“But I don’t want to leave-,”

“Oh please, you think you’re my only option? Don’t flatter yourself Weasley. Now go, before she talks herself into getting over you,” Angelina huffed, nodding her head in the direction [y/n] left.

“I’m sorry, and thank you,” Fred smiled, hopping out of his seat and running after [y/n].

***

[y/n] sat on one of the benches outside a little ways away from the Great Hall, far enough for some seclusion but still near enough to hear the music. She blinked back tears threatening to fall and ruin her makeup, frustrated with herself for getting worked up after having a great time with her best friend only moments ago.

“You’re a fool,” [y/n] muttered to herself, resting her forehead on her wrist, elbows balanced on her knees.

The cold ended up being just what she had need, the cool air blanketing her in the relief she’d wanted from the suffocatingly hot Hall. Her head snapped up as she heard footsteps approach, a panic setting in despite the relative safeness of campus.

“[y/n]?” A familiar voice called.

“Fred?” [y/n] replied confusedly, turning her head the opposite direction to fan at her eyes to hide the tears the were previously glistening there.

“Oh thank goodness it’s you,” He exhaled, skidding to a stop in front of her, “I was worried I had just bothered some couple getting it on.”

[y/n] scrunched her nose in disgust and felt a laugh bubble out from between her lips, “Hello to you too, Fred.”

Fred’s cheeks hued red, the color spreading to the tips of his ears, “Hey.”

“What’re you doing here? Didn’t you come with Angelina?” [y/n] questioned, cocking her head to the side.

“I did, but uhm, but plans changed,” Fred explained, struggling to piece together the smooth talker persona he usually sported.

“Changed? Well that’s not abnormal coming from you, Mr. spontaneous,” [y/n] teased.

“Yup, you’ve caught me,” Fred chuckled, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“I guess I have,” [y/n] hummed, “but, truly, what brought you out here?”

“Well, it’s a long story, okay, it’s actually a short story,” Fred started to ramble, unsure exactly how he was suppose to lead up to “hey I’m in love with you” in this particular situation, “I was stupid and I made a lot of mistakes and it shouldn’t have taken me so long to notice but it did and I desperately want to fix my mistakes and I don’t know how to without being direct at this point because explaining everything would take us forever but I like you [y/n]. More than I’d care to admit.”

[y/n] sat there stunned, her mind reeling as she processed his confession, the heat she’d come outside to cool quickly rushing back, “I-,”

“I would say that it’s okay if you don’t like me back but I did all the emotional maths and I put the pieces together after Tessa practically knocked the sense into me and I know I’m the Gryffindor you we’re talking about so you can’t say no unless Angelina was right and you did talk yourself out of liking me any-,” Fred continued on, his eyes anywhere but [y/n]’s face, before he felt her hands placed gently on his cheeks turning him to face her.

“Shut up and kiss me Weasley.”

A smitten smile pulled itself onto his lips which was quickly swallowed with [y/n]’s own lips. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her impossibly closer, relishing in the feeling of her lips against his and the soft patterns her thumbs traced across his freckled skin.

When they pulled away Fred couldn’t help himself but to break into laughter, swaying her side to side with him in excitement. She laughed giddily along with him, squealing delightfully when he picked her up and spun her around before quickly settling her back down on the snow dusted floor.

“I think now would be a good time to tell you that you look absolutely radiant tonight,” Fred sighed in a hushed tone, cupping her cheek in his palm

[y/n] looked down and pressed her lips together to hide her smile, suddenly shy of his admiration filled gaze. He chuckled and tipped her head back up to face him, “don’t get embarrassed on me now!”

“I’m not embarrassed! Just happy,” [y/n] shrugged, placing her hand over his wrist tenderly, squeezing gently.

“Well that’s good news, I’d be proper worried if it was anything else,” Fred laughed, the sound rumbling in his chest.

[y/n] rolled her eyes playfully at his comment, “I guess I should tell you that you also look quite lovely tonight too. Molly truly outdid herself.”

“Oooo someone thinks I’m handsome,” Fred wiggled his eyebrows.

“Hmph, you’ve gone and ruined it, leave me be,” [y/n] wrestled herself out of his grip, teasingly walking off.

“You’re no fun! Come back here,” Fred groaned, grabbing her wrist and tugging her back into his arms, “you hear that? I think they’re starting a new waltz.”

“Should we head back inside then?” [y/n] suggested, “it is kind of cold out here.”

“Nah, it’s cramped in there anyways,” Fred shook his head, shrugging off his robes and wrapping them around her shoulders, “that ‘ought to do it. So, [y/l/n], would you do me the honor of giving me this dance?”

“I most certainly would,” [y/n] smiled, taking his hand in hers and placing the other on his shoulder, “don’t step on my toes now.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, but no promises,” Fred grinned, placing his hand on her waist.

“Me neither,” [y/n] giggled, leaning forward to give him a chaste kiss as the music started.

“Hold on tight, I’m gonna give you the best dance of your night,” Fred declared, standing tall.

“Don’t let Tessa hear you she might kick your arse,” [y/n] warned him, giggling at the faux fear that washed over his face.

“Pish posh, she’ll survive the blow to her ego, now shut up and dance with me  [y/n].”

“Gladly, Freddie.”

#fred weasley #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x [y/n] #hogwarts #harry potter #yule ball #[y/n] #mar writes

[wolvesandpetals]

Loki x Sylvie Playing House Part 3 (Humor, Romance), Rated T. Full on Sylki hijinks, as promised!

Masterlist of my Sylki fanfics here.

---

The first thing she does when Thor leaves is Google herself. Apparently, she was a child actor and made a fortune there, before transitioning into modelling, and later into a successful influencing career.

"That makes perfect sense to me", Loki comments. "If I was not a prince, I would have chosen to be an actor too. Just imagine, legions of fans screaming your name, begging for your attention for just one moment, hanging onto your every word, willing to worship the very ground you walk on. Now, that is the dream." He pauses, cherishing the image in his head. "There's also the money. Looks like you and I will never have to work a day in our lives. We can just live off your money."

[[MORE]]

Sylvie feels the muscles in her laws instinctively tense. This is not her life, or her reality. She can't imagine spending eternity here. She looks at Loki sternly. "We can not. We have to return to the TVA."

"Yes, of course." He agrees immediately. A part of him likes this life. But another part of him knows there is never a gain without a loss. The universe finds a way to make him pay for every bit of happiness he ever gets. Who knows what the price may be if he chooses to stay, with his family, and with Sylvie right here?

Sylvie sets down the laptop on the bedside table, ignoring the danger of Loki's glass being knocked over and drenching it. She cannot let herself be concerned with such simple things. Ignoring them is the surest way to covince herself she hates it here. "I was wondering, if Thor can get into this town, and if he remembers us leaving this town in the past, does it mean we are free to leave?"

Loki studies her features, the resolute glint in her eyes and the defiant stance of her chin. It is clear that she will stop at nothing to get back to the TVA. "We should test it out." He says, trying to sound as calm as possible. "Where do you wanna go?"

"Maybe we can go to Oklahoma? See my supposed parents?" She attempts to play it off like it's nothing, even though she knows exactly what it means- temptation. The urge to see what this life looks like is ever-growing.

"Why can't we go to Asgard and see my parents instead?" He counters immediately.

Sylvie purses her lips, trying not to reveal her emotions. She doesn't remember her Odin or Frigga at all. A part of her longs to meet this version of them, but another part wonders how overwhelming it would feel, watching Loki occupy her place, have her life, her "parents" in this timeline. "Fine. How about we pick a neutral location first?"

"Fine." He replies curtly.

"Fine!" Her irritation escalates. She grabs the laptop again, opening up a tab to a travel website, ready to book a flight.

"LA?" He suggests.

"You just want the paparazzi attention, don't you?" She points out, but doesn't resist. "Alright."

September 1st. The date is set. They will be off to LA within three days, and if whatever being that has placed them here does not want them to leave, they will know by then.

---

"Do you really need all of these sunglasses?" Sylvie asks, after Loki stashes the fifth one in his backpack.

"Of course, I do." He defends. "Style? Remember?"

"Travelling light, remember?" She hits back, taking out two random pairs and throwing them back on her dresser. "Just take what you absolutely need."

"I absolutely need my sunglasses." He says stubbornly.

She can either give in on this trivial matter, or she can dig her heels in and fight it out with him. A stupid pair of sunglasses is not worth the effort. "Fine." And in return, there's something that he has to compromise for her as well. "Only if you help me get my swords past security."

"With pleasure." He says with a grin, and with a wave of his hand, the newly arrived swords from eBay are magically cloaked.

Sylvie looks at her own luggage. She has never really owned anything. She jumped from one apocalypse to another, with only her life, and sometimes food supplies for a few days. It feels surreal to look at the clothes in her wardrobe now. The thought of carrying them with her feels even more foreign.

She looks at the tons of products on her dresser, skin creams, lotions, toners, cleansers and heaven knows what else. All the luxuries she never had.

All the luxuries she does not want.

"I'll just pack a change of clothes." She says finally.

"You don't want anything else?" He asks, surprised.

"These are just things, Loki." She explains. "They can be replaced. I have no attachment to them."

---

She regrets not booking first class. She has been on planes before, using crashing aircrafts as a temporary hideout spot to regroup when the TVA was on her tails. As a stowaway, she never realized just how annoying a plane journey can actually be.

Loki graciously offers her the window seat, noting her unease as soon as they board. She thanks him with a smile, and they nod in mutual understanding.

She stares out of the window, at the town that is supposedly her home, and for the first time ever, she feels a pang of homesickness for a place that is not Asgard. She has been here for just five days now, yet, the thought of sleeping in her own bed is so tempting.

Sylvie notices how she is thinking of the bed as her bed now, but tries not to dwell on it too much.

The plane takes off without incidence, and she dozes off quickly. When she wakes up, she notices a thin comforter wrapped around her shoulders. Turning to her side, she sees Loki sleeping as well, his mouth slightly agape. She snuggles close to him, suddenly needing the comfort of his warmth, and the woman on the aisle seat gives her a dirty look. There's a baby crying somewhere in the back, and what feels like the beginning of a massive headache. But all that fades away when she lays her head on his shoulder.

---

When the flight arrives at LAX, they are both a little scared to leave its comfort. They are about to find out if they are free to travel wherever they want, or whether the action had any consequence. Sylvie is the first to take a step out, and they are both relieved to see nothing happens. The baggage claim goes smoothly, though slowly, and they get a cab quickly. Sylvie hides her grin when she sees Loki put on his sunglasses.

"So we're here." He says, staring at Sylvie, while she stares out of the window.

She only hums in response.

"Is this your honeymoon?" The driver asks.

Loki laughs nervously. "No, no. We've been married for quite a long time. This is just... a vacation."

The driver recommends them a lot of tourist places. Sylvie tunes him out. This is just a test. She has no interest in touring LA. They have their return flight scheduled for the next day.

They check into their hotel room, and she plops down on the bed immediately. "It seems we are free to leave the town. Just not the reality, I suppose." She runs her hands over the silky sheets, amused. "I must say, whoever placed us here has taken every measure to make this prison comfortable."

Loki follows suit and takes a seat beside her. "I suppose that is indeed generous of him. Or her."

Sylvie turns to the side to look at him. "So how do we get out of here then? Got any plan?"

He shrugs. It's not like there's a book called What to do when you find yourself trapped in an alternate universe with your alternate self for Dummies. "Right now, the plan is to get some dinner, then some sleep. Then perhaps in the morning we can see a bit of LA?"

"You want to play tourist?" She asks in a neutral tone.

He replies in kind, testing the waters. "We are here already, and we have the time, so why not?"

"Okay." She replies, a little unsure, but not entirely opposed to the idea. The weariness of the journey starts taking its toll on her. She messages her temples with her fingertips. "Should we order room service?"

Loki contemplates for a moment. On the one hand, she looks really tired, and she could use a good night's sleep. On the other hand, she has been completely on edge and razor focused on the mission since they got in this mess. Well, since they met, actually, and probably for centuries before that. She could also use a bit of fun and relaxation.

With that in mind, he carefully voices his proposal. "I was thinking maybe we can go down to the restaurant and have a proper dinner."

Sylvie looks up, grinning mischievously. She's about to call his bluff. "What, like a date?" His deer-in-the-headlights reaction makes her laugh. "Calm down, I'm just teasing you."

---

It's not a date, but it kind of is. It's a four course meal and a fine bottle of champagne over candlelight, after all.

"Was it like this? Back at Asgard?" Sylvie wonders.

"Mostly. But Asgard was grand, elegant. This is..."

"A cheap replacement." She completes.

Loki smiles. "Precisely."

They talk about their Asgard bedrooms, the similarities and the differences between their safe haven in the palace. An hour passes swiftly.

"The wine is good." Sylvie comments, sipping on her first glass of wine, when the champagne is drained.

"Yes, quite good." Loki agrees, on his first glass as well.

The tiniest buzz starts to take root in him, and his mind wanders into the realm of possibilities, the future he can have, here and now. His eyes focus on the brighest object in front of him- Sylvie.

She feels her cheeks flush under his gaze. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"You are just so..." He blinks. What is another word for Asgard's Sun when it disappears into the azure lakes? "Breathtaking"

Her lips curve into a shy smile. This is the beginning of the same foolishness he showed on the train in Lamentis-1 that almost got them killed. But right now, their life isn't in imminent danger. Right now, she is just amused. "Wow, you really can't hold your liquor, can you?"

"Of course I can. I am Loki, Prince of Asgard." He declares proudly.

"Yes, yes, I've heard the speech." She says it with a smile and an eye-roll. "We should get you upstairs."

He objects immediately. "But I'm not done yet."

"Oh, I think you're quite done." She beckons the nearest waiter. "Can we get the bill, please?"

He can still walk surprisingly well, but she holds his hand tightly, just in case he decides to take a detour, and drags him into the elevator.

"Blonde looks good on you." He comments out of the blue. "Maybe I should go blonde too."

She grins. "Like Thor?"

He glares at her. "You're a buzzkill."

---

Sylvie opens the door after fumbling with the keys for a minute. She is starting to feel the effect of the alcohol as well. She takes off her shoes and her earrings, while Loki runs to the loo.

"Why did you book a room for two?" He asks in a serious tone, leaning against the door-frame of the bathroom.

Sylvie freezes, her hand hanging mid-air for five uncomfortable seconds before she awkwardly drops it to her side.

Why did she book a room for two? She could have just rented separate rooms, or at least ones with separate beds. It's not like she and Loki are actually together.

But they have been. At least for the past few days. Why do they need separate rooms here when they share a bed back home?

Home. Sylvie realises with alarm that she's thinking of her prison as her home.

Is this reality starting to mess with her mind now?

"It's okay, I don't want to leave you either." Loki's voice pulls her out of her inner monologue. She turns around quickly in his direction. He's still drunk, and it shows, but he has a look on his face that she has never seen before- a mix of resolution and fondless. His eyes whisper silent vows of loyalty, and something else, something he can't quite express yet. "I will never leave you."

Sylvie smiles, closing the distance between them and standing next to him. Her hand finds his by sheer instinct. "Good to know."

"I mean it, Sylvie." He gives her hand a reassuring squeeze, before he tugs her along with him as he sits down on the bed, unable to stand any longer in his inebriated state. She is grateful to be seated too, and she's unsure whether it is just the alcohol. "I know you hate it here. But I like this." He indicates at her, then at himself, then back at her. "I like falling asleep next to you, and walking into the kitchen first thing every morning to see you cursing at the microwave. I like how you hum in the shower and scream at the TV."

Sylvie listens quietly, her eyes focused on the feeling of his hand in hers. She is trying to memorize this moment, burn the shape of his fingers and the feel of his touch into her brain, so that when it's gone- when he is gone- like everything in her life always is, she will have another good memory to relive again and again.

Loki continues. "I like the way you burn the pasta every time you try to cook."

"I don't burn the whole dish." She retorts playfully. "Just the bottom part."

He shakes his head to show he disagrees. "Can I tell you a secret?"

Her heartbeat quickens. Is he going to confess that he has feelings for her?

Does he have feelings for her?

"Sure." She barely whispers back.

Loki double-checks. "Promise me that you will never tell yourself?"

She laughs softly. "I promise."

Loki tenses, suddenly looking sober. He lets go of her hand, to rest his by his side, his fingers clenched into a fist. Mastering all his courage, he finally speaks. "I don't want to leave. Ever. I like it here."

Sylvie looks away, suddenly needing air. Hearing Loki say that makes her feel irrationally angry. He promised to be on her side every step of the way, but the minute he finds a life he likes, he's ready to throw in the towel.

A part of the anger stems from the fact that she knows, a major reason he wants to stay is her, this life he has with her. Two Lokis on any other timeline will cause Nexus events. But here, they are free to be together. Timelines don't start branching off like a growing vine on timelapse video every time they touch. And he wants that. She knows this because he has all but said it with his words and his actions.

And because she wants it too. Damn it, she wants it so much. She is getting sucked into this reality, indeed.

But she knows she has to finish what she started- she owes it to herself, and to the people out there who need her help, who will be robbed of their lives if she doesn't stop whoever is doing this.

She wants to-

- But she can't.

"Loki, I-" she stops when she turns around to see he has already fallen asleep. Wordlessly, she wraps the comforter over his sleeping form, before crawling under it herself. Turning to her side, facing away from him, she wonders what's next for them.

#loki disney+ #loki x sylvie #sylvie x loki #pro sylki #sylki #sylki fanfic #fanfiction

[heliads]

A Matter of Metal

Based on this request: “an alternate version of magneto’s son and been in shield and been really close to hill and fury so sword has sent him to investigate the hex with the trio and he has the same powers of magneto and basically wants what agatha wants wanda powers and basically betrays sword/shield”

masterlist

Three people sit at a table. They are each dressed in shades of navy and black, guns obvious on hips and knives hidden on shins. The flickering glare of a fluorescent light casts shadows across the room. Despite all the resources of S.H.I.E.L.D., they’ve never bothered to get it fixed. The man, one black eye patch hidden in shadow, sits closer to the woman, whose dark hair is clinically pulled away from her face. They stare at a second man, one who returns their gaze without a shard of hesitation. Between the three of them, they know enough secrets about S.H.I.E.L.D. and the various governments to tear down the entire fabric of the world.

Instead, their focus is on a manila file folder, one that’s been slid across the table to the second man. He eyes it coolly. “You want me to investigate Wanda Maximoff?” Fury nods. “S.W.O.R.D. claims to have it under control. I’m not sure how much of that I believe.” Maria Hill gestures towards the folder. “You’ll be there as our eyes and ears. S.W.O.R.D. is willing to accept our help, but we’re fairly certain it’s only as a way to get us off of their back. You’ll have to be careful, Y/N, but we think you’ll be able to find out more than they’re letting on.”

Y/N raises an eyebrow. “At this rate, I’m not sure whether you’re sending me because you trust me or because you want to see what would happen if you sent another agent with abilities to tangle with Maximoff.” Fury chuckles at that. “Are you sure your powers don’t include mind reading? I can’t keep anything from you.” Y/N lets his stony facade break for a second as he laughs. “That’s why we’re such good friends.”

Hill smirks. “If you consider Fury a best friend forever, I’m getting worried about your mental state. You sure you’re up for this job?” Y/N grins. “I’m the only one you trust. If I wasn’t ready, you wouldn’t have asked me about it at all.” Fury nods. “You’re not just there to watch and wait, L/N, you’re there to act. If you feel the need to intervene, do so at will. We’ll defend you to S.W.O.R.D.”

The barest hint of curiosity flares across Y/N’s eyes. “You want me to go behind S.W.O.R.D.’s back?” Fury shrugs. “We want you to make the right decisions, even if they happen to be against S.W.O.R.D. direction. Use discretion, but do what you must.” Y/N nods, then begins to rise from his chair. “When do I leave?” Fury and Hill stand as well. “Whenever you’re willing. The first trucks leave in a couple of hours.”

Y/N turns to go, but a call from Fury makes him glance over at the man again. “And L/N? Take care. From what I’ve heard, things aren’t exactly smooth sailing over there.” A devil-sharp grin makes its way onto Y/N’s face. “Trust me, Fury. I can take care of myself.” Just as he says that, the room begins to shake. It’s not much, barely noticeable, but still there. Every metal thing in the room begins to contort for just a second, and then the moment passes and they smooth themselves back out again once Y/N disappears from the room.

Y/N heads quickly to his apartment. It’s not far from S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters, carefully chosen for an easy escape if necessary. In this case, Y/N won’t be running away from anything. Instead, he’ll be running towards something, a risky shot that just might plunge him into a scenario far more dangerous than either Fury or Hill realizes. That’s why they’re sending Y/N, after all. No matter what, he always comes out on top, regardless of how deadly the situation ends up turning. In fact, the darker the scene, the better he works.

Y/N begins to fill a black case with a number of supplies. Clothing, weapons, you name it. Just as the case begins to fill, he pauses, and turns to a gunmetal gray box almost hidden in the back of the room. Y/N kneels before it almost reverently, and lifts the lid. Inside lies a helmet of dark metal, one that would be snug to the skull but extends down, cut away from the eyes like those of the Ancient Greeks. Y/N’s eyes close as he holds the helmet in his hands. It was not his, not at first. No, it belonged to his father. Erik Lehnsherr.

Erik had raised Y/N, both by his presence and his absence. They both shared the same ability to manipulate metal, to raze the earth if they wished. The only difference was that Erik was long gone, and Y/N was forced to stay here today. Y/N isn’t sure if Erik was dead or alive, or if that even mattered. Erik had vanished one night in a cloud of smoke, with the yells of men echoing over the pounding of heels on asphalt. He could be dead, or missing, or simply choosing never to return. In all honesty, it didn’t matter. Y/N remembers the key detail- the look of anguish on Erik’s face as he realized he was losing his family again, one final blow in a sea of countless injuries.

When Y/N leaves for the S.W.O.R.D. encampments, there is a metal helmet hidden in the black case on the seat beside him. He does not let it out of his sight for a second.

The truck is rocking back and forth, heavy tires digging deeply into muddy ruts as it travels along an only semi-paved road on the way to Westview, New Jersey. Y/N sits in the back with a couple of other new arrivals, but he does not speak to them. He rides with these nervously chattering brains and muscle only because he does not wish to stand out amongst the residents of the Westview encampment. Few people know the true importance of Agent Y/N L/N, and it’s best to keep his high level under wraps. This want for secrecy, however, is not enough to force him to converse with the others. Everyone has their limits, he supposes. This is his.

Y/N can sense the Westview encampment before he even looks out the tinted windows to see it. He can feel the boundary pressing in around him, the tendrils of magic practically reaching out to wrap around his brain. Y/N’s power is raw, has always called to others like it. Apparently his magnetism doesn’t just extend to metals. As the truck carries him closer to Wanda’s energy barrier, a pounding in his skull gets worse and worse, feeling like an anvil slamming against his temples.

Y/N does his best to hide any signs of weakness, but he must have a slight sheen of sweat glistening across his forehead or something, because S.W.O.R.D. Director Hayward raises an eyebrow when he greets Y/N outside of the truck. “You alright there, agent? What, you get sick on the way over?” Y/N isn’t in the mood for politicking. “You might consider questioning your driver instead. I think I’ve seen more technical skill in a fifteen year old with a learner’s permit.” As Y/N strides away, he sees a trio of friends exchange glances as they try to hold back laughter. He recognizes them in passing- Woo, Rambeau, Lewis, present in the S.H.I.E.L.D. databases thanks to their experience with Avenger-level threats.

Y/N arrives late in the afternoon, and sits in on a couple of debriefings before night falls over the encampment. S.W.O.R.D. isn’t exactly following through with the laissez-faire attitude they highlighted in their project write-up, but Y/N assumes that a few details were embellished to make sure Fury didn’t come after them. These details would include an accidental send-off of one Monica Rambeau into the so-called Hex, and a later disappearance of a S.W.O.R.D. spy at the hands of Wanda Maximoff when the man had been discovered creeping into Westview via the sewer system.

Clearly embarrassed to present these findings to an extension of S.H.I.E.L.D., Hayward had decided to wait on any further activity regarding Westview until the next day, or at least until things cooled down with Wanda herself and with the tensions already simmering between Director Hayward and the trio of Woo, Rambeau, and Lewis. Y/N waits until action on the encampment is beginning to settle down, when the dark cloak of night will hide his silhouette, and then slips out of his assigned bunk, heading towards the barrier to Westview.

If he thought the call to the magical energy was bad in the truck, it is a thousand times worse here. Yet the pure power of the boundary calls to Y/N even as it pushes him away. Y/N walks until he’s mere inches away from the shimmering scarlet surface. Around him, guards ignore his sudden appearance, their scopes and tech not picking up his figure. Y/N smiles to himself. It’s funny how easy it is to manipulate all that metal. Erik would have loved it.

Y/N turns his focus back to the barrier of Westview. He considers it for a moment, then pulls his father’s helmet from where it was hidden under his coat. He slips it on, and the pain dissipates to almost nothing. What remains instead is that same hunger, that same want for the power right before his eyes. Y/N reaches out a hand to touch the barrier, and his eyes widen for just a second as he makes contact. It is amazing how much is right there for the taking. Without another glance, Y/N steps through the barrier into Westview.

Agent Y/N L/N has been missing for only a couple of hours. Director Hayward issued a statement telling everyone at the encampment that L/N was out on a S.W.O.R.D.- authorized mission, that he will be back soon. Some people believe him, but more notice the crease of fury that has appeared on his brow, or the clench of his knuckles as he storms into the tech center where Darcy Lewis and Monica Rambeau currently watch the live feed of a drone,  one that has just been sent into Westview.

Hayward stomps up to the group, considers the monitor for a second, then nods to an awaiting technician. “Take the shot.” Monica, who had been speaking to Wanda through a microphone, freezes. “What?” Her panic is not enough to stop the missiles from clicking into position on the drone, or to have any impact on Wanda, whose eyes glow red as she shuts down all S.W.O.R.D. control of the drone. Monica’s live feed flickers into static.

Scarlet bands of energy wrap over the drone, and she turns away from it. Wanda does not notice the failsafe missiles still preparing to fire, or notice that anything is wrong at all until the launched missiles crumple in a tangle of wires and screeching metal. Wanda whirls around to see a man in a metal helmet standing across the street, his eyes fixed impassively on her. He releases his clenched fist, letting the buckling metal fall to the ground in tandem with his lowered arm. Wanda stares at him. “Who are you?” Y/N returns her gaze. “Someone who can help you get what you want.”

Scores of S.W.O.R.D. agents are clustering around the Westview barrier, watching as it flashes scarlet, rent apart as a woman steps through. She is dragging a broken drone, which she tosses at their feet. As she speaks, fear and apprehension begin to dawn on the faces of the gathered agents. Monica Rambeau steps forward and attempts to reason with Wanda. Director Hayward realizes that this negotiation tactic isn’t working and tries another option: outright threats.

Yet Wanda Maximoff does not seem concerned by the soldiers pointing guns at her, or at least not until Hayward snaps his fingers and a wave of fully automated weaponry focuses on her. “They’re not humans,” Hayward calls, “You can’t control their minds.” Then another voice echoes out from behind Wanda. “But I can.”

Y/N L/N, clad in his father’s metal helmet, steps through the barrier. He raises his arm, and all scraps of metal crash and crumple together, surrounding Hayward with piles of useless waste. Hayward stares. “Agent L/N? What are you doing?” Y/N laughs, the sound deep in his throat. “I’m making my choice.” Hayward seems taken aback by this betrayal. “What would Fury say?” Then, quieter, “What would your father say?”

An edge of stone hardens in Y/N’s eyes. “I wouldn’t know, because he is gone. Do you know what I remember from that night? I remember my father fighting to get back to me, but he was forced away because of your organizations and petty squabbles, all because you’re scared of people like us. People with powers. So, now that you mention it, I think he would be proud of me. I’m finally continuing what he always wanted.”

Hayward’s eyes narrow. “You would turn your back on S.H.I.E.L.D., on S.W.O.R.D., on everything, for what? A chance to use your powers whenever you wanted? You could do that here, you know.” Y/N appears disinterested. “Where you’ll hold it over me for the rest of my life? I’d rather not.” Hayward glares. “This is your final warning. We will be coming after you.” Y/N raises his arm again, and the gathered S.W.O.R.D. agents flinch away. “Actually, you won’t. I plan to make that very clear.”

Y/N’s eyes glint, and the entire encampment begins to shudder. Hayward turns to his officers as he realizes the unfortunate truth- everything here, the walls, the weapons, the tech, it’s all made of metal. A cold smile spreads onto Y/N’s face as he watches the encampment crash to the ground in a hail of sparks and ruined scrap, weeks worth of research gone in an instant. Y/N turns his back on S.W.O.R.D., holding out a hand to Wanda. “Ready to go back?” She nods, smiling, and accompanies him back inside the barrier.

Wanda is grateful for a new ally. It’s a shame, though, for if she were to see inside Y/N’s head she would see no desire to help her. Instead, what lurks underneath that helmet is an all-consuming want for vengeance, for power, for everything Wanda can give Y/N and even more that he can take from her. Even after just a couple of hours in Westview, Y/N realized that Wanda represents an untapped source of power, one that Y/N could call to himself as easily as drawing breath.

His lip curls when he thinks of Hayward’s last words to him. Mentioning Y/N’s father? That was a low blow. And besides, it didn’t even work. Y/N could laugh to think of how little Hayward knew of Erik Lehnsherr. Had Hayward known a fraction of Erik’s true goals, of all of his attempts to reinstate control to mutants and people with abilities, he would never have allowed Y/N onto his little base in the first place.

What would Erik think of Y/N’s decision? He’d be proud. As Y/N disappears into the shrouded city of Westview, feeling his own powers grow with every second that he spent around that beacon of energy known to the world as Wanda Maximoff, he sends out one last thought to his father. I’m doing what you would have wanted. I’m continuing the cause. S.H.I.E.L.D. had always held Y/N back, but he’s finally broken off all chains. It’s time to begin again. It’s time to create a new world, one where power is given to those deserving of it.

If Wanda Maximoff had any idea what would happen to her perfect little town, she would have run long ago.

wanda maximoff tag list: @mionemymind​ @xxxtwilightaxelxxx​    

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagines #wanda maximoff oneshot #scarlet witch #scarlet witch imagine #scarlet witch x reader #scarlet witch imagines #scarlet witch oneshot #wandavision #wandavision imagine #wandavision x reader #wandavision imagines #wandavision oneshot #avengers #avengers imagine #avengers x reader #avengers oneshot #male reader

[sedated-love]

ShigarakixReader smut

Tenth post of October!! 

TW- Piss, Noncon, Voyeurism

Hope you guys enjoy! If you like it, please take the time to reblog <3 It helps a ton! Also if you have any suggestions for what I write in the future, please feel free to leave them in my ask box!

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“Shit…”

You cursed softly under your breath as you made your way across the ball floor, noticing just how bad of a position that you were in. You were sent undercover to this villain’s ball as a spy to try and gather information, but you didn’t realize just how many villains there would be. The worst part is that everyone of them that you recognize, wants your head on a silver platter for tonight’s main course.

You were thankful it was a masked ball but the half mask covering your face didn’t stop you from feeling completely naked and vulnerable as you tried to weave your way through the dancing villains. You hadn’t even realized this sort of thing existed until you were sent as a pro hero to go and infiltrate it. A ball for villains to dance and dress up almost sounded fake after all but it very much wasn’t.

You would like to say you weren’t worried, but it felt like the smallest of wrong moves could get you killed and honestly it could. With the number of villains here, it wouldn’t take long for them to rip you to shreds limb by limb. Just the thought had you shivering as you grabbed a shot off the tray of a server walking past, not caring what kind of alcoholic beverage it was as you closed your eyes and shot it anyways, feeling the burn immediately settle in your chest. You were going to need it for tonight.

“Drinking already~?”

You practically jumped out of your skin when a voice you recognized appeared behind you and you slowly turned around to see Shigaraki…aka the man who probably wanted you dead the most here out of everyone. You choked down your anxiety to offer a smile, handing the shot glass away to the server before turning all of your attention to the villain who was easily recognizable as he used a muzzle as his mask of choice. How fitting. You always did think he seemed a little too feral to be without one.

“It’s never to early for a drink…”

You kept your voice steady, not liking the way the villain’s eyes were traveling your body since you couldn’t tell if he wanted to kill you or eat you. Either way you didn’t really like the outcome. “I suppose.” His eyes dragged their way back to yours and with the way he looked at you, you felt like you weren’t wearing a mask at all. You felt completely vulnerable and suddenly you wanted to dart the other way but that would completely blow you cover so instead you stood still in front of him, trying to keep yourself from looking too suspicious.

“Care for a dance, M’lady?”

He offered his hand which you noticed was gloved. A part of you was thankful as you had seen his quirk in action more times than you’d like to admit, and you weren’t looking to get disintegrated any time soon but you still didn’t reach to take his hand. “Well, actually, I was just about to get going so…” You went to turn on your heel as you politely declined his offer, knowing that dancing with your number one nemesis was about the worst thing that you could do.

After all, that made him about a million percent more likely to figure out your true identity and you weren’t desperate for your demise just yet. Though you were quick to freeze when you felt that gloved hand wrap around your wrist, forcing you to turn back to look at the villain. “I suggest you dance with me~” He spoke barely above a hushed whisper, which made him barely audible with the music in the background drowning everything out unless you concentrated hard.

His tone, despite being soft, told you that this was no suggestion. He was demanding that you take the floor with him but still you offered a tightly lipped smile, doing your best to not appear rude while still being firm. “I really do have to get going…” You looked down at your wrist where his grasp tightened to a point it was almost painful. You had to hold back a wince as those red eyes stayed focus on you, devouring you alive.

“I’m sure you have time for one more dance.”

He pulled you by your wrist against his chest with ease. His other hand, which was now painfully obvious to you wasn’t gloved like the other, rested against your lower back. His pinky being raised was the only thing keeping all of your particles in one piece. “Unless, of course, you want everyone here finding out who you are, hero~”

Your body tensed as you realized he knew exactly who you were already. You racked your brain for what must have given it away when he answered your question, leaning in close to your ear as he whispered. “I’d notice your frame anywhere…you think I haven’t memorized it by now?” A soft purr left his lips as his eyes wandered down your body, making you feel like you were completely naked despite wearing a decent amount of clothes. “Every measurement…every curve has been scanned into my brain. I could recognize you out on the street even if you were wearing a baggy hoodie and jeans just from the degree of the angle your jawline makes~”

He ran a gloved finger along the outline of your jaw, causing a shiver to go through your spine as you looked up at him with a horrified expression written all over your face. The expression just seemed to amuse him though as he offered you a smirk before dragging you towards the dance floor. “It’s time for that dance, M’lady~” He didn’t give you a chance to argue as you were pulled around in his grasp like a doll. Your hands were moved to rest on his shoulders as both of his held onto your waist besides the one pinky which hovered over your frame in almost a teasing manner.

“What is it that you want from me?”

You couldn’t help the question that had been wracking your brain as your bodies slowly began moving with the beat of the music. You were absolutely surrounded with no escape. The mass majority of people that wanted you dead were surrounding you while the one who wanted you the most had you right in the palm of his hands…literally. Now you just needed to figure out what he wanted, and you didn’t see the harm in asking. After all, he proved he already knows who you are and if he wanted you dead immediately, he could have killed you by now.

He proved that with the way he had his pinky carefully hovering over your hip. As if one wrong move and he would have you turned into nothing more than a pile of ashes at his feet. “It would be easier to ask what I don’t want from you…” His voice spoke softly as he seemed just as dangerous with the muzzle on. Like either way he would manage to bite you with the way he was looking down at you.

“I’m gonna make you mine.”

A shiver rolled its way down your spine with the way he said that and you wanted nothing more than to sock him in the face but you were pretty sure causing that much attention to yourself while you were surrounded by the countries most powerful villains wasn’t the smartest idea. He had you trapped right where he wanted you. “I’ll claim you right here in front of everyone~ You’ll be my own little hero pet~”

The unease that flowed through your body at the sound of that left you stiff. It took everything you had to keep your feet moving with the beat as you slow danced with the criminal. “You’re fucking sick, you know that?” You kept your voice hushed but you couldn’t help the disgust you felt. He wanted to claim you? What sort of sick nonsense was that? You weren’t some toy to be chosen in front of a room of toddlers but that’s exactly how he was treating it.

“I’ll show you just how sick, I can be.”

A sadistic look twisted on his face as he grabbed a handful of your hair, dragging you towards the center of the ballroom. You had to stumble behind him to struggle and keep your balance as he pulled you along with ease, an act that quickly grabbed everyone’s attention as you struggled against his tight grasp. You were promptly forced onto your knees as all of the villains in the room made a circle around you and the music cut. All eyes were on you.

“Now that I have everyone’s attention!”

Shigaraki yanked off the mask that was the only thing keeping your identity hidden, disintegrating it in his grasp as you heard the hushed whispers of all of the villains surrounding you. This wasn’t good. “I’ve seemed to find a little spy amongst our numbers tonight~” The man standing above you kept you held down with his hand place firming on your head, his index barely lifted off as he spoke proudly to everyone around you.

You could feel all of the eyes digging into you, ripping you apart already as if the only thing holding them back was Shigaraki. You didn’t know whether you were grateful or just wanted them to get it over with already. “I’m going to claim her as mine!” The cheers that filled the room pounded into your core. It was like everyone knew exactly what that phrase entailed besides you. Though you were going to find out very soon.

Using his clothed hand, he undid his pants, pushing them down along with his boxers until his hard member popped free and pressed directly against your face with where he was holding your head. You wanted to jerk back in disgust but doing that would have that index finger pushed down faster than you could pull away.

You were completely stuck there, with his cock in your face, in front of everyone. “Be a good little hero and fix my problem~” Shigaraki used his index finger and thumb to press against either side of your cheeks until your jaw was forcibly opened, not waiting another moment before he shoved his cock down the back of your throat. “Bite and you’ll end up a dust bunny~” He tightened his grasp on the top of your head as if proving his point as he started roughly thrusting his hips, not seeming to give a care in the world that everyone was watching the two of you.

If anything, it seemed to make him all the more excited as he throbbed against the back of your throat. He didn’t bother being gentle as he started using your throat like a flesh light, pounding roughly against your face with no care in the world of how you gagged under the rough treatment. You had to force yourself to concentrate on breathing through your nose as the thick cock pushed its way down the back of your throat with every thrust. His rough grip on your head giving you no wiggle room as all you could do was sit obediently on the floor in front of everyone and suck on your worst enemies’ cock.

You gagged with every thrust, tears starting to stream down your cheeks as he used your throat as he pleased. You felt dirty and used as the villain effectively claimed you as his own, but little did you know that he wasn’t finished. His thrusts got sloppy as he approached his orgasm and he gave you no time to prepare before he shoved your head all the way down on his cock, cumming deep in the back of your throat and forcing you to swallow every ounce of his cum.

A groan left his lips as he looked down at you, pumping your throat full as he took in how completely wrecked you were underneath him. The tears streaming down your cheeks doing even more for his ego as he rocked his hips through his orgasm, only pulling out once he had become completely soft against your lips.

You coughed softly, your throat feeling sore from being used so ruthlessly and your face was a wreck as a mixture of drool and cum slid down your chin. Your cheeks burned hot with embarrassment and you wanted nothing more than to hide away completely, already brought to shame just from being forced to do something so lewd in front of everyone you hated…but being embarrassed wasn’t enough for Shigaraki.

He wanted to make you feel so ashamed that you wouldn’t have the dignity to ever come back from it. Which is exactly why he grabbed you by the back of your head, shoving his flaccid dick against the back of your mouth before using his other hand to pinch your nose. “Drink.” He gave you no other warning before he started releasing his warm piss down the back of your throat, letting out a soft sigh of relief as he released himself in your body.

You felt your entire face burning with shame as you had no choice but to drink his warm liquid, closing your eyes as you took all that he had to give to you, feeling absolutely filthy as he emptied himself inside of you in front of everyone. “Good girl~” He waited until he was completely done to uncover your nose and pull himself completely from your mouth, grabbing you by the front of your clothes just to pull you closer to his face as he leaned down until your lips were almost touching.

“The shame that you feel right now ties you to me. Don’t forget it~”

He placed a soft kiss to your lips before letting you drop completely, turning to look at the villains who were all watching your limp body. “The girl belongs to me now. Anyone who lays a finger on her…” He grabbed the face of a random person standing behind him in the outline of the circle, watching as he disintegrated to dust at his feet. “Will suffer a similar fate~”

#shigaraki x you #shigaraki x y/n #shigaraki smut #tomurashigaraki #myheroacademia #mha #mha smut

[reyesstrand]

thank you for your prompt @fudges1 — i went with #19 for this one! i hope you enjoy 💗

this officially marks the end of this little series! thanks to everyone who has made a request, liked, reblogged, and/or commented on these fics! as always, this is also available on ao3!

tag list: @aanathemaa​

TK wakes up with a crick in his neck, sunlight warming his face, and a wetness against the back of his hand that he can’t quite place. 

He cracks one eye open and comes face-to-face with the culprit: Buttercup, his tongue hanging out the side of his mouth. TK can’t help but to grin as he tiredly reaches over to rub behind the dog’s ears, slowly rolling over to check his phone. He’d gone home with his dad after their shift, too tired to do much of anything but watch some TV and promptly pass out on the couch, and now he barely bites back a stupid grin as he reads the message waiting for him for Carlos: i’m home, if you wanted to come by

It’s time-stamped from an hour or so ago, and TK vaguely wonders if he should just let his boyfriend get some sleep from his own exhausting shift. But then he realizes he could go over and they could both just get some sleep, and he figures that’s the ultimate option.

“Come on, boy,” TK whispers, patting the side of his leg as he gets off the couch. Buttercup trots behind him happily, right on his heels as they head for the kitchen, where TK gets him some water and food before taking the stairs up to his room two at a time. 

He changes quickly, into joggers and a hoodie, dipping into the bathroom to brush his teeth and deal with his bedhead the best he can. He passes Buttercup, who is now curled up near the couch, and he crouches and presses a kiss to the top of his head, smoothing a hand down his back. Then he grabs his phone and wallet; he heads out of the house to wait for his Lyft, shooting off a message to his still sleeping father that he’s going to Carlos’. 

And by the time he pulls up to his boyfriend’s condo and thanks the driver, his stomach feels fluttery with excitement. He can’t remember the last time he’s had a relationship where this many months in, he still feels flustered around the other man; if he digs deep, he knows he’s never had anything like this, and that boils down to the amazement that is Carlos Reyes. 

TK digs into his pocket for the key he’s had for a month, quiet as he enters the house and toes off his shoes. He creeps through the living room toward the bedroom, and smiles as he lingers in the doorway—Carlos is curled up in bed, looking content with sleep. He always leaves space for TK in his bed, whether it’s a conscious decision or not, his arm thrown over half of bare mattress that TK usually claims. 

He lightly clears his throat, hating the thought of waking up Carlos when he looks so peaceful but liking the thought of scaring his boyfriend half to death by just sliding into bed next to him even less. Carlos blinks his eyes open and adorably squints at him, and TK almost melts at the sight of his boyfriend’s syrupy smile. 

“Hey, baby,” Carlos’ voice is rough with sleep, and TK doesn’t feel a flash of heat down his spine at that, no sir. 

“Hey,” TK rubs a hand up and down his right arm, before gesturing toward the bed. “May I?” 

“Of course,” Carlos says, patting the mattress next to him. TK slides in next to his boyfriend, feeling settled immediately when Carlos pulls him close and nuzzles into his hair. “Mhm, missed you.” 

TK smiles, and flips around in Carlos’ embrace, settling his weight over his boyfriend with a knee on either side of his body. “I missed you too.” 

“You know, I was thinking,” Carlos says, dragging his thumbs along the sliver of bare skin between TK’s waistband and hoodie, “there’s something we could do about that.” 

“Oh yeah?” TK cocks a brow at him, ducking in close to kiss his boyfriend. “And what would that be?” 

Carlos looks at him with shining, warm eyes—how he always looks at him, really. “Move in with me.” 

TK’s quiet for a moment, staring down at his boyfriend. He looks at him so earnestly, love written across his features in every moment, and TK suddenly realizes that this is something worth jumping in head first for. He doesn’t even stop to think about it, before he whispers, “yeah.” 

“Yeah?” Carlos looks the tiniest bit surprised at the quick response, and TK’s already smiling. 

He nods, and lets out a little laugh. “I want nothing more than to move in with you.” 

“God, I love you,” Carlos murmurs, shaking his head the slightest bit, almost in amazement.

“I love you so much,” TK admits, bordering on breathless. Carlos grins up at him, hands tightening on his hips, and TK’s still smiling as he drops a kiss to his boyfriend’s brow, to the tip of his nose. Even as Carlos continues smiling, TK peppers kisses all over every inch of his face: his smile lines and his hairline and his cheeks. 

Finally though, he kisses his boyfriend how he’s been craving since he saw him last, deep and with everything he has. Carlos’ smiles into the kiss, shoving his hands up and under TK’s hoodie to press his palms to the small of his back, and TK feels like there could be nothing better than this moment, right here. 

#now on to work on carlos week 😌 #tarlos #911 lone star #tarlos fic #my fic #fudges1

[sellyoursoulforagoodfic]

Shelbys at Somme: Chapter 1

Thomas Shelby X Reader

2478 words

Summary: As Thomas Shelby enacts his plans to expand the Peaky Blinders, memories of Somme haunt him. A name he’s never spoken. A story he’s never told. A promise never kept. In desperation he tells a story, but stories only seem to haunt him.

By: @adventuresintooblivion

“I’m assuming you know who I am, Father.” The musty air of a church filters through the screens of a confession box. The air was heavy as if it waited with bated breath for what he might say. Ancient leather creaked beneath him as he shifted his weight, waiting for the reply of an old man who had no obligation to serve him. The change of pace was nice.

A chuckle filtered through from the neighboring box. “Thomas Shelby, I know who you are. I’ve been waiting for you all day, even cleared out my schedule for you.”

Thomas glanced towards the voice, even though they couldn’t see each other, “I’m not sure if I should be flattered or not.”

“It’s only once a year when I get to hear from you. It’s damn near becoming a holiday. Even though you don’t usually talk much.”

The gang leader let out a deep breath. “It’s because most of the time I don’t know what to say. But this time I think...I might have a story for you.”

The reverend’s voice was unsteady as he replied, “I can’t wait to hear it, my son.”

“Don’t get me started on fathers. No, today is the story about a girl who joined the army. And before you ask, no, she wasn’t a nurse.”

“She fought?”

Thomas nodded. His fingers twitched to reach from a cigarette. Something to fidget with that would keep him in the box long enough to get this damn weight off his chest. 

“She died with a gun in her hand at the Battle of Somme. I held her guts as her blood turned dirt to mud. I…” His voice gave out. Can I even say the words?

The reverend's voice startled him, “Was she a part of your company?”

Thomas cleared his throat. “Yes. She’d um...She’d disguised herself as a man and joined. Her brothers were sent to the warfront and she followed.” 

For the next couple of hours Thomas spoke. Each word felt as if it were torn from him. This tale had become the foundation of which he’d built his walls and now he laid it at a strangers feet brick by brick. Only the occasional gasps from the box beside him signaled that anyone was listening. 

“This woman sounds quite extraordinary.”

“Yeah. Yeah she was.” Thomas took a deep breath as he summoned every fiber of courage to continue, “I asked her to marry me.”

A long pause filled the air between them. Thomas’ skin began to crawl as if all the statues that adorned the church were now peering into his soul. He wasn’t a man of God, at least not anymore. He mainly did this to satisfy his Aunt Pol; however, there were times that he couldn’t ignore the feeling of another presence in his life. Whether it was God, Fate or magic he really didn’t know, nor did he care. 

Most of the time. Now he was baring his soul in front of a man who’d claimed to know the ultimate difference between right and wrong, led by some divine being. Thomas didn’t regret much in life. He couldn’t change the past, and he had his plate full with the present. This one moment, along with a handful of others, had scared something inside him. Did he even want to heal?

“Well now, Mr. Shelby, while I’d be honored to perform your nuptials , I cannot in good grace marry you to a corpse.”

Thomas couldn’t stop the wry smile. “I’m not asking you to, Father. I just needed to tell someone.”

He asked, “Is today the anniversary of when she died?”

Thomas didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. 

Instead the reverend continued, “Would you have actually done it?”

“Done what?”

“Marry her.”

“In an instant.” Thomas blinked. He’d spent all these years being unsure of his own intentions that fateful day. But the words had sprung forth from somewhere deep inside him bursting from a locked box where he’d kept them safe for so many years.

The reverend gave a soft chuckle, “If you want forgiveness I would suggest-”

Thomas interrupted him as he finally reached for his cigarette, “Oh, I don’t want forgiveness Father. Never have, never will.” 

“Then what was the point of this?” the reverend stammered. 

Thomas’s voice came out in a low growl, “In case I die tonight, she deserves to be remembered by someone. Might as well be a holy man.” His voice fading into the night as he left to go face his demons.

〜

Grace’s hand slipped against the slick glass she’d been cleaning causing the glass to go flying and shatter against the wall. She silently thanked her lucky stars that Harry was out, but it wouldn’t be long before the missing glass was noticed. She reached for the broom to clean the damned mess when a knock came from the door.

“One moment!” She hurriedly swept up the worst offenders before rushing to the door. 

There waiting for her was the only man who dared knock on the door before open, Thomas Shelby. He took off his hat the moment he came inside and nodded toward her 

Thomas shuffled toward the bar looking for another bottle of whiskey when his foot came down on the rest of the glass Grace had forgotten about. He glanced down, making sure what he heard was in fact glass before casting a tired glance at the new barmaid.

“Trying to kill me already, Ms. Burgess?”

Grace’s heart leapt into her throat making it hard to speak as she rushed over to finish what she’d started, “I...I’m so sorry. I got distracted”

She swept up the remainder of the glass in a frenzy with Thomas standing all too close. So close in fact she could smell his soap beneath the stale cigarette smoke that clung to just about everyone in Birmingham. Once she was done she was grateful for the excuse to put some sort of distance between them. 

In the mirror behind the bar she could see him watching her out of the corner of her eye. Something about the way he stood blended together the stalking of a predator and a tired man with the weight of the world on his shoulders. 

Thomas’ voice easily filled the entire space leaving little room for Grace to breathe, “Do you know what I do to women who try to kill me?”

Grace steeled herself. If she showed him any weakness he’d walk all over her, just like he did with everyone else. So she spun around in a huff, her arms folded across her chest.

She raised her chin in defiance, “What do you do Mr. Shelby?”

“I take them dancing.” 

Grace blinked slowly trying to wrap her mind around the words she just heard, “Dancing?”

Thomas nodded, closing the distance between them, “Yes. I might even be so inclined to let the lady choose where to go. It seems fair to level the playing field.”

Grace looked around as if the wood itself could tell her if he was joking. There was no smile, no tilt of the head or anything else to break the tension. Is he actually serious?

She shook her head slowly. “I don’t have a dress.”

Thomas let his eyes roam over her. Even he had to admit that Grace had a beauty about her that you didn’t see that often. Yet the thing about her that always drew him closer was her defiance. Not many people told him ‘no’.

He took out his wallet and started counting, “How much does a nice dress cost these days?”

“Are you serious?”

Thomas froze.

Dust assaulted his lungs as bombs threw rock into the air. Heat from a much smaller body curled against him gasping raggedly from breath as her brow furrowed, “Are you serious?”

“Meet me here in five days in your dress. Have a place picked out. “ He practically threw the money at Grace, probably too much. He spun on his heels stalking for the exit. She cried out after him but he didn’t stop.

He needed air. Alcohol buzzed in his veins. It dulled his senses, made the world around him less real but his attempts to bury the memories only made them stronger. Thomas glared at the world around him. Her laughter danced on the wind. A song he’d long forgotten the words to thrummed in his soul. Some tune that they screamed the words to in defiance of all that the Germans had done.

Today the memories were close. A blanket of fear and sorrow pulled close around his heart. Today was going to be a bad day.

〜

Danny "Whiz-Bang" was a tall man, some might call him gargantuan. A fancy word Y/N had used to scare away some drunk soldiers once. Y/N. 

He'd been thinking about her a lot lately. Danny desperately raked the fragmented pieces of his brain. Today was… the day she'd died. A year ago. Or had it been two? He'd have to ask Thomas. 

Last time he'd asked about her the look in Thomas's eyes answered all his questions. He'd gotten it wrong again.

Danny began to hum softly. Their song, an anthem really, that they played almost every night until that last battle. Where had he been while his best friend lay dying in the mud? Again the day played through his mind, the details muddled over the years.

He'd been switched with Freddie so instead of fighting with Y/N to distract the enemy, he'd been down in the tunnels digging. The tunnel had stretched for miles by the time they'd finished and began setting the charges. Vibrations gently shook the tunnel, forcing dirt to rain down into his eyes. 

Nobody even knew they were there until it was too late. The detonation had destroyed the foundation of three turrets, which allowed the British to take back much of the ground they'd already lost.

Music interrupted his thoughts as the same tune he hummed to himself soon filled the street. A busker on the corner stood tall as he played a violin. Wood gleamed in the dimly lit night as hoards of people shuffled past. Rich brown contrasted brilliantly with the general grey dinge of Birmingham. 

Danny couldn't stop the shaking. No one was supposed to know that song except for the 174th yet here it was in his home. He shook his head vigorously, the visions, they must be happening again. Danny began to turn, better he leave for London than have another episode in public. Just as the busker left his sight he heard something he'd never thought he'd hear again.

"Danny? Danny Whiz-Bang is that you?"

He froze. It wasn't real, she was dead.

The music stopped as something tugged on his sleeve. He shouldn't turn around, the ghosts would get him if he did. What would he see this time? A german strangling Thomas? Y/N's head gaping wide open? Or would it be himself?

Whatever was tugging on his arm was insistent. Danny took a deep breath. He couldn't hide forever.

Dirt crunched under his heel as he turned. Smoke left a rancid undertone in the air that filled his lungs. Stone buildings rose into the sky, impossibly tall while still leaning into each other. Roofs sagged under the weight of centuries and rain.

Danny didn't see any of this. The world itself fell away as his eyes landed on a small figure. Her curly mop of hair ended just below his collarbone. Wide tired eyes stared up at him, searching his features for some small hint of recognition. Her clothes weren't that god forsaken uniform or the dress of a lady. Just trousers and coat like any man would wear, fitted to her figure. Her coat was by no means threadbare, but still worn.

"Y/N?"

A smile spread across her lips and it was like watching the sun finally revealing itself after a storm.

Her voice was almost too loud compared to the low buzz of the street, "Hey Danny. It's...it's so nice to see you."

Danny shook his head as he reached up for his cap. Lines appeared on his face, etched deep as he squeezed his eyes shut. The large man hid desperately behind the clump of fabric, praying that he might banish the phantom before he lost control.

“You’re not real. Thomas says that whenever I see you, you’re not real.”  His voice shook as he took a careful step back. 

Y/N’s brow furrowed, “Do you see me often Danny?”

Finally he opened his eyes with unshed tears glinting in the sun, “Almost everyday. I miss you so much but y...you’re dead.” 

Y/N gently reached out and gripped Danny’s hand in hers, “I’m not dead Danny. I was hurt, and they sent me home, but the Reaper hasn’t gotten me yet.”

“Why didn’t you come back?” he demanded.

She looked down, “They found out I was a girl. Kinda hard to hide your tits when you get shot in the stomach.”

Danny slowly lowered his cap, “The MP’s got you?”

Y/N nodded. 

Without warning Danny scooped her up into his arms, violin and all, enveloping her in a rib-breaking hug. Y/N threw her arms around him. He buried his head against her shoulder, his body shaking from laughter.

“Alright, alright put me down before you break me.” She grinned, patting his shoulder. He set her down with a practiced grace, muscle memory from years past taking over.

“We have to tell Thomas you’re back. He was talking about you the other day, and he’d love to see you.” Danny practically bounced with excitement.

Y/N felt her cheeks flood with color. She blamed it on the cold wind, “He still talks about me?”

Danny shrugged smiling sheepishly, “Well, not often. I think it hurts him, too, but he mentioned you the other day. Said he was going to tell the Reverend about you.”

Y/N snorted, “Yeah, Thomas Shelby the devout catholic. Anyways where is he? I’ve been in town a week and haven’t seen hide or tale of him.”

“He’s either down at the pub or the races. He’s got…” Danny’s eyes widened. “We have to go now or we won’t catch him.”

“Go wh-” 

Y/N was cut off as Danny lifted her off her feet and sprinted down the street. She clutched her violin to her chest for dear life as the streets whizzed by. Miraculously Danny hadn’t forgotten to grab her bag in the other hand.

“I can walk just fine you know!” Y/N screamed from beneath his arm.

Danny flashed her a smile. He didn’t do this because he had to. He did it because he missed doing it everyday in the army.

#peaky blinder imagine #thomas shelby #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby imagine #shelbys at somme #tommy shelby x reader #tommy #adventuresintooblivion