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neowinestainedress · 1 year

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Stumbled upon 2 of your doyoung's au requested to you and god that made me crave for another doyoung one !!

Can i also request for college!enemy doyoung smut au. enemies (but w high sexual tension) to lovers. thanks 🧡

w!: sexual tension, public fing*ring, unprotected s*x (i'm just too lazy to write about condoms, don't do it irl)

a/n: this turned long for a drabble bc 1) I don’t know how to keep these dynamics short (and i still think this is not the best) and 2) I missed the ‘to lovers’ part and didn’t address it where it was supposed to end BUT i didn’t want to scrap everything i wrote to replace it with the actual s*x scene

Hating Kim Doyoung is natural for you, and after two years of college, you know the feelings are mutual. It would’ve been easy to ignore him, if only he didn’t speak over you every time, or if he didn’t stumble on you in the halls, or worse even sit next to you in class.

It’s almost as if he was doing that on purpose.

It wouldn’t be that bad if things stopped here, if your stupid brain didn’t short-circuit every time he was too close to you, if your mouth didn’t hang open when he would lean closer and trap you against a wall, if your eyes didn’t close when a wave of his perfume would wash over you.

It would be so much better if you didn’t find him so hot.

“So, want to work on that project with me?” It would be better if right now Kim Doyoung wasn’t standing in front of you, bag hanging from his shoulder, while his body is wrapped in his usual clothes defining his broad shoulder and small waist so well, asking you to team with him.

You scoff, shaking your head from your dirty thoughts, and reply, “Why would I?”

Doyoung snickers, tilting his head. “Don’t you think it’s funnier to work together? If you’ll spend so much time with someone else how could I annoy you?”

You roll your eyes, starting to walk in the corridors, ignoring him, but he still trails behind; you have the same lessons, unfortunately, so there’s not really an escape for you. “You think the way you retort everything I say it’s not annoying enough?”

He shrugs. “Not really. Also, that’s not annoying you, that’s proving a point.”

“Oh, really, Kim? And what point are you proving?” You ask, stopping in your tracks to turn around, damning yourself because you caught him off guard and now you’re standing face to face.

Doyoung smirks, eyes falling on the gulp in your throat and the way your chest rises faster, but doesn’t dwell on it too long. With a click of his tongue and a proud smirk on his face, he goes back to the main topic. “That I’m always right.”

You scoff awkwardly, trying to look away, and taking a step back for the sake of your sanity. Silently cursing him and questioning what he gets for wearing such an expensive and intense perfume that gets to your brain, almost more than his perfect — slappable — face does. “You wish.”

“I don’t have to wish for it, and you know it,” he taunts, mockingly pinching your cheek, making you grunt and go back to your steps.

“And that’s why you’re wrong.”

“I’m also wrong when I say you want to fuck me?”

You almost choke on your saliva and trip in your steps when those words get registered in your brain. “What the fuck are you talking about?” You mutter, turning around with a glaring gaze.

“You know everything, honey, I’m sure you also know what I’m talking about.”

“You’re so full of yourself, thinking everybody is ready to jump on your dick,” you bite back. “Well, it will never be me.”

Doyoung snickers, tilting his head to the side. “No, really? Then I assume you will have no problems teaming with me on this project.”

“I don’t want to team with you because I hate you, and we don’t work well together, and I’m not screwing up my grad—”

“Good, see you this Friday at 3 in the Uni library, in front of the history session,” he says, sending you a flying kiss, and walking past you, “there’s nobody there,” he winks before turning around and leaving you speechless in the middle of the corridors, and also late for your lesson.

You would’ve skipped going there on Friday, but it’s not like there are many other people that would die to make a project with you (or better, there were, but you’d rather want to kill Doyoung while he does something, than sit for hours and break your back for people that won’t lift a finger to help). So here you are, walking toward the table in the History section where he’s already waiting for you.

“Not even greeting each other, now?” He says when you sit next to him without a word and immediately pull out your laptop to work on the project.

“Hi,” you say sarcastically, smiling at him.

He rolls his eyes before looking up and down and you. “Beautiful skirt, is this how you dress when you don’t have lessons?”

“I’m going to do the project with someone else if you don’t stop.”

“With who? Someone that will do nothing and take all the credit for it?” He laughs at your expressions and then talks again. “Honey, why do you think I picked you?”

“Don’t call me honey,” you retort. “Also, I think you picked me because you knew I would’ve done a better job, and you don’t enjoy losing.”

“You’re so annoying,” he snickers, shaking his head. “Let’s start before it gets too late.”

Two hours pass by and you feel like your brain will explode, rubbing your temples and getting distracted by everything — him — more than you could afford.

“Will you please stop staring at my hands?”

“What are you talking about?” You snap, glaring at him, but the menacing look on your face disappears when he comes face to face with you, placing his thumb on your lips.

“Shut up,” Doyoung orders. “I don’t want to get kicked out of the library because of you.”

You furrow, thinking of a comeback but your body betrays you as your eyes fall on his veiny hands again and your thighs squeeze together as your brain imagines them on you, and in you.

“I love being proven right,” Doyoung whispers, a smug smirk twitching on his face as he stares at you. Your lips are parting but no sound comes out of it and before you can realize, his hand is on your thigh, making its way to your panties.

“Doyoung, I…”

“What? Tell me this isn’t what you were imagining and I’ll stop,” he says, hand stilling on its spot as he waits for your answer.

“I… I,” you mumble, frenetically looking around to make sure you’re still alone. “Please.”

Doyoung scoffs, scrolling his back hair away from his eyes. “Please is not an answer.”

You groan. “I was… I was thinking about it,” you confess, lowering your head to don’t give him more victory with the flustered look on your face.

“Music to my ears,” he hums, and his hand crawls up on your leg until it reaches your panties. “Go on, the project won’t do on its own.”

“Are you kidding me? How can I concentrate?”

“I thought you were smart enough to do more than one thing at once,” he teases, slipping the crotch to the side as he starts rubbing your clit, making you suppress a moan. “Go on, we need to finish this part today.”

You gulp, not talking back anymore because if you open your mouth you have no idea what sounds will come out, and try to concentrate on the screen. It’s not easy when your brain stopped working twenty minutes ago and when Doyoung fingers are fucking into you. They’re long and slender and even if the position it’s not the best, he knows what he’s doing, curling them while his thumb rubs your clit.

“Doyoung —” you mutter, clenching your hand in a fist.

“Yes, honey? Need help?”

“I can’t — I can’t do this,” you whisper, looking for his eyes and begging him to have mercy.

“Fine, can you at least pretend you’re doing something?” He asks, hot breath hitting your ear as he leans closer.

“Yeah, I’ll — I’ll pretend I’m reading,” you hum, scrolling on the page in front of you, making him laugh.

“Good girl,” he says, quickening the pace of his fingers inside you. “Ah, don’t be loud. I think you don’t want to get kicked out, right?”

You shake your head and dry to keep quiet, shamelessly spreading your legs more and placing one on top of his thigh to give him more access. Doyoung snickers, looking down and shaking his head.

“You’re so desperate, I thought you were a classy girl.”

“Shut up and make me come already,” you retort. “If you can.”

That comment hits him more than he would like to admit, too driven by competition he starts moving his fingers faster, rubbing your clit quicker, while his other hand reaches for your boobs, pushing the top down.

“Do—”

“Quiet,” he shuts you up. “Shut up and nothing will happen.”

You do as he says, and only look down in disbelief as he starts teasing your nipples too, adding to the stimulation. And that, plus the fear of being caught, pushes you to the edge.

“Let’s go, now,” Doyoung orders once his fingers are out of you and your top is back in its place. Shutting your laptop with no care and urging you to put it back in the bag.

“But the project?”

“Fuck the project, I need to fuck you first.”

The way to his place is a blur, just like the walk to the bedroom. Things are a bit clearer when you two are almost ripping each other clothes off while kissing roughly and messily and not losing the occasion of bickering.

“Gonna fuck you so good you won’t even think of talking back to me,” he says — promise or threat, it’s up to you to decide — while he pushes you down on the mattress.

“You’re only good at talking but never acting, it would be so nice if for once you proved something, you know?” You don’t expect him to do just that, the only verbal thing coming from his mouth being a low groan before he pushes his dick into you, leaving you gasping for air.

“Don’t test me, ever again,” Doyoung groans, and then his hips start picking a rhythm, pushing your legs up. And you won’t do that, not because he threatened you — and if this is what you get, is it really a threat? — but because God, if he’s good at this. It’s like everything you’ve fantasized about and more, and you feel like you could melt on the spot.

“Fuck, you’re so hot,” he murmurs. “And I hate it so much.”

“Yeah, you sure hate it so much,” you tease, voice barely higher than a whisper.

“Still got the energy to talk? Do I have to be rougher with you?”

“No, maybe just better,” you wink mockingly, and he throws his head back while groaning annoyed.

“Anything for you,” he replies sarcastically, and in a second you see stars. One hand pins you down by the hip, the other one rubs your clit, while his lips wrap around your nipple, and his hips keep fucking deep into you. If you weren’t so touch-starved… maybe… or maybe not, maybe it is just him, your enemy, the man that made your college life the worst competition you’ve ever been into, maybe it is just him, Kim Doyoung.

“So pretty when you’re like this, look at you,” he praises, staring at your blissed face. “So much better when we don’t fight, don’t you think so?”

You hum, mindlessly and weakly, feeling the familiar feeling build up again and you immediately search for his hand.

Enemies don’t hold hands, right? But he locks his fingers with yours anyway as he feels the orgasm build up.

And right when you feel so close to the high, his lips meet yours again, kissing you… passionately. There’s nothing of the roughness of the first kisses, and you start to feel delicateness even in the way his hand is rubbing circles on your hips. And those soft gestures make you lose control. You come, pussy squeezing hard around him, triggering his orgasm too, as he mumbles words you don’t care to understand.

When the pleasure dies down, he rolls from on top of you, falling at your side. But you can feel he’s looking at you even if you’re staring at the ceiling, trying to take your breath.

“I think we could…” Doyoung starts, turning to the side even with his batter to look at you better, “…we could, you know, stop with all this fighting.”

“Yes, I’m free tomorrow for a date,” you reply, turning to look at him.

Doyoung’s cheeks redden but he shakes his head. “I didn’t — I didn’t ask you for a date.”

“So, are you saying no to my date?”

He gulps, eyes falling on your lips before moving to your eyes again. A fond smile on his face. “No, I’m just a bad liar.”

© neowinestaindress; all rights reserved. do NOT repost, modify, or translate any work from this blog on any other platform and claim it as yours. you can find my works on ao3 (neowinestaindress) and wattpad (winestaintedress_; currently inactive).

#anon answered #doyoung hard hours #doyoung smut #kim doyoung smut #doyoung scenarios #nct 127 smut #nct smut

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ecoamerica · 25 days

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youtube

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

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f1writingbyme · 8 months

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The Nights Are Long (But It's Easier Together)

IT'S FINALLY HERE!

My God, this took me forever

My first ever longer work of fiction. It took me months to finish it, but I'm so extremely PROUD of what I created and I hope you will enjoy it!

I want to give a very special shoutout to Mona (@lestappenforever) who has been my ROCK and an absolute ANGEL whilst I was writing. Mona, thank you for listening to my rambling, reading every single thing I sent to you, for your thoughts and input and not to forget, the betaing! I love you so, so, so much, words can't describe how much I appreciate you! ❤️

You can read it here.

Summary: The fire in his apartment is only the beginning of a long list of misfortunes that await Max. Fortunately, he has Charles by his side to help him through it. That is until Charles is the one that gets targeted.

PLEASE NOTE THAT THE CATS DO NOT EXIST IN THIS FIC. I REPEAT: THE CATS DO NOT EXIST! Please don't hate me.

Enjoy the first bit here.

The party is in full swing. Leave it to Lando to plan a well attended party during summer break where normally everybody would disappear to another country to not see any of the other drivers, having seen plenty enough of them during the race season. Charles knows, because normally he would have fucked off to some country where he could lie on the beach and drink cocktails for most of the day, spending time with his brothers and mother, and maybe some other family too, before having to turn back to full concentration again.

But for some reason, most of the drivers were here and Charles realizes he is actually truly enjoying himself. He’s on the couch next to Pierre, listening to some kind of story George is slurring at them, having had just two too many drinks by now. Charles knows he should have stopped him when he gets up to get another refill, leaving both Pierre and him on a cliffhanger, but he isn’t particularly bothered with George’s alcohol intake. He’s a grown man who knows what he’s doing - or at least most of the time. He can deal with his own hangover tomorrow. That is not Charles’ job.

He takes the break from George’s rambling as an opportunity to glance across the room. Every driver he gets along with on the grid is present, along with some friends of Lando he already knows, but the majority of the crowd is unknown to him. The only thing he knows is that some of the female friends present are more interested in all the drivers surrounding them than in their actual friends. If you could even call them friends.

Charles’ attention is drawn to the corner on his right. Max, Daniel, Martin Garrix — Martijn, Charles corrects himself mentally — are stood in a some resemblance of a triangle so that they can all face each other, listening to Martijn telling a story. Charles sees that Daniel is fully invested, eyes wide, a large smile on his face as he nods along. Max, on the other hand, is also listening, but every few minutes or so, he’s distracted by his phone, frowning at the screen, before rejecting the call. He then presses some things on his screen and to Charles it seems like he’s blocking the number. Unfortunately, he has had to do that himself one too many times.

Max’s attention is back to Martijn, taking a big sip of his gin and tonic. A bit of the drink runs down his chin. and Max uses the back of his hand to wipe it away. Charles’ eyes are glued to it, the movement of the big hand wiping away the little drop of the alcoholic drink before it makes its way down his neck. His strong, muscled neck. Charles wishes the drop had made its way down, just so he could–

“Tu regardes,” Pierre’s voice breathes in his ear. (“You’re staring.”)

It startles Charles, spilling half of his own drink over his hand and on his trousers. He feels the blush creep up his face, painting his cheeks a dark shade of red. He rips his eyes away from Max and his group, because they have all turned to face the two men on the couch after hearing Charles’ rather loud gasping and spluttering. The spluttering ends in a coughing fit, and tears gather in Charles’ eyes as he desperately gasps for air.

“He’s fine,” he hears Pierre say as he pats his back.

Through his watery eyes he sees that Pierre is talking to Max, who looks at Charles in concern, but smiles after Pierre’s words and turns back to Martijn, who restarts his story again, not paying attention to a slowly suffocating Charles Leclerc.

“Calamar, tu dois vraiment te contenir,” Pierre says once Charles has caught up with his breathing. (“Calamar, you really need to contain yourself.”)

“Je n'ai rien fait,” Charles wheezes. (“I didn’t do anything.”)

“Oui, continuez à vous le dire,” Pierre snorts and then, when Charles frowns at him, he adds, “Vous étiez pratiquement en train de baver en le regardant.” (“Yeah, keep telling yourself that. You were practically drooling whilst staring at him.”)

“Je n'étais pas.” (“I was not.”)

“Tu l'étais.” (“You so were.”)

“Tais-toi,” Charles mumbles, finishing whatever is left of his drink. (“Shut up.”)

Pierre sighs deeply. He turns to face his friend, bringing his head closer to Charles’ to have a little bit more privacy in a crowded room full of strangers. "Tu n'as pas à prendre de décision maintenant, mais s'il te plaît, Charles, soit tu lui parles, soit tu l'oublies. Arrête de te faire du mal à cause de lui. S'il te plaît." (“You don’t have to make a decision right now, but please, Charles, either talk to him or forget about him. Stop beating yourself up about him. Please.”)

Charles wants to reply to that, he really wants to, but he simply can’t. It’s not as easy as Pierre makes it sound. He can’t just forget about Max, but he also can’t just go and talk to him about the stupid little crush he has on the Dutchman, either. Or, as Pierre likes to say, ‘just tell him you are head-over-heels in love with him’. Charles neither confirms nor denies that he used a bit too much force behind his punch on his best friend’s arm after he said that.

Just as Charles is ready to vocalize the answer he has formed in his head, he’s interrupted by Max’s ringtone yet again that evening. How many calls has he already received, Charles thinks, and he realizes this must have been the sixth time within the last hour he has heard the phone ringing. He expects Max to yet again decline the call and block whoever is calling him, but he sees him frown at his screen before excusing himself to Daniel and Martijn. Charles watches him as he makes his way to the somewhat quieter kitchen area, answering the call. He sees that Max is trying to speak to the person on the other side, but every time he tries to get a word out, he stops again, probably being interrupted by the person on the other end of the phone, gesturing wildly with the hand that isn’t holding the phone, pacing back and forth in the kitchen area.

Curiosity getting the best of him, Charles excuses himself to Pierre under the pretense of getting a refill as he makes his way over to the kitchen where Max is. He knows that Pierre thinks he is finally going to declare his undying love for the Dutchman, judging by the smirk on his face. Charles rolls his eyes. Of course he’ not going to tell Max how he feels. If he ever decides to tell him how he feels, he will definitely pick a much quieter location to do said thing, away from the prying eyes of female strangers and crowded rooms.

Charles sets his glass down on the counter and opens the fridge, listening in on Max’s heated conversation. That’s what he expects it to be; heated. He expects to hear him angry, but what he definitely doesn’t expect is to hear Max trying to speak French – a very heavily accented French.

“Je ne, uh, parle — shit — pas français…”

Charles raises an eyebrow, head still buried in the fridge, obviously taking way too long to make it believable that he’s only there to get a refill.

“Mrs. Corvetto, I don’t speak French… Je ne parle pas français!”

Charles can’t take it any longer. Max starts to get frustrated, he can hear it in the tone of his voice. He closes the fridge and turns to the Dutchman. He raises his hand to wave at Max, grabbing his attention. Pointing to the phone, he asks, “Need any help?”

Max lets out a sigh, lowering the phone from his ear to hand it over to Charles. “Thank fuck. It’s my neighbor. Normally she speaks English, but she’s freaking out and I don’t know why. She never calls me, only when there’s an emergency.”

“Mrs. Corvetto, you said?” Charles asks as he takes the phone, already hearing the frantic voice of Max’s neighbor coming through the device and he hasn’t even put it anywhere close to his ear. When Max nods, he brings the phone up, making sure not to bring it too close to his ear, before he kind of shouts, “Madame Corvetto?”

He doesn’t get a direct reply from the woman, but what he does hear makes his blood run cold. He freezes on the spot, arm with the phone lifted in the air, hovering somewhere near his head. Charles just stares at Max as Mrs. Corvetto continues to shout over the phone in rapid French.

“Oh, God, what is it?” Max groans. “It’s Mr. Corvetto, right? I knew it. I’m telling you, never move into an apartment next to elderly people. It’s just– Why does she call me? What the hell can I do? Doesn’t she need to call an ambulance or something? Or, I don’t know, her family, or–”

“Max.” Charles interrupts Max’s ranting. He ends the phone call, cutting off Mrs. Corvetto’s panicked yelling with a simple press of his thumb. He stares at the blue-eyed man in front of him. “Your apartment is on fire.”

#lestappen #lestappen fic #charles leclerc/max verstappen #max verstappen/charles leclerc #my writing #The Nights Are Long (But It's Easier Together)#i am so proud of myself

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iwanttoholdon · 9 months

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Sometimes I feel that weight, I hold that in my chest Sometimes I hold it back, other times I'm blessed

I love the song and I used to listen to it everyday thinking about a crush that broke my heart but these lyrics mean something else to me now. Sometimes it gets so heavy on my chest, so much more than sometimes to be honest, and I don't know what to do with it. Cruel amount of intense emotions and unbearable thoughts with unwanted memories wash over me all at once, I just feel like dying. To be exact I really wanna unalive myself in these moments because I don't want to feel them, I just want to escape and I much rather feel nothing at all. That's why I try to numb myself lately. Just trying to numb my brain with stupid videos or sleep just because I want to run away from myself. But you can't really run away from yourself, can you? Or you can only run away so much. As much as I want, I also know that one can not get rid of her past. And as you run faster it will catch up to you. There is no escape. So I said enough is enough. I am courages enough to face my fears. I am all grown now. I feel like a new person and I gave myself permission to be sad and depressed and took a rest. But I feel hopeful today and I feel like maybe its not that bad you know? Maybe I can have a beautiful life. Maybe I can build myself a beautiful life and maybe there is no rush? Maybe I am not a loser because I don't have a special someone? Maybe I am not a loser because I live with my family in a not nice neighborhood? Maybe I am not a loser because I don't have a car? Maybe I am not a loser because I haven't travel the world. Maybe none of these shit really matter and I am just being stupid by giving myself hell for not doing what the society wants. I am not cool in terms of what cools on Instagram. But I don't really care about these stuff, they don't bother me. They just bother me because I feel like I don't fit in and I want to fit in like everybody else does. But in reality I am comfortable and content. I am not running out of time. I got all the time in the world. I am not late to anything. I should rise above from all of this mess and focus on what makes me feel good. I know better than that. I know better than that.

Anyway I actually wanted to write about the funeral I went to today and cried a lot. It made me really sad. Then I went to a dinner with my new team and hang out with them. And I felt really happy, comfortable and at peace. The energy they were giving were so positive and they were such good and down to earth people. I felt like I belong there. Felt like I found my people and my place. Not specifically those people but genuine people with good intentions. I really understood what they meant by the people and the energy around you can really lift you up or bring you down. So they lift me up from a very deep depression without even knowing without even trying. That is the part I felt blessed. And I haven't felt that in a very long time.

Another thing that punched me in the stomach is remembering tomorrow is my dad's birthday.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY DAD. I LOVE YOU SO MUCH. THIS IS THE FIRST BIRTHDAY WE DON'T GET TO CELEBRATE. THERE ARE SO MANY THINGS I WANT TO TELL YOU. I MISS YOU SO MUCH. I WISH YOU WERE STILL HERE. I LOVE YOU SO MUCH. THANK YOU FOR EVERYTHING. THANK YOU FOR ALL THE LOVE. THANK YOU FOR ALL THE CARE. I WILL ALWAYS CHERISH IT. YOU ARE FOREVER IN MY HEART. I REALLY WISH I COULD BUY YOU A BIRTHDAY GIFT AGAIN. I WILL SEE YOU AGAIN AND HUG YOU AGAIN. WE WILL BE TOGETHER SOON ENOUGH AND I HOPE I WILL GET TO TELL YOU ABOUT EVERYTHING. YOU WOULD BE SO PROUD AND HAPPY FOR ME. MAYBE YOU ARE ALREADY. YOU WERE THE BEST DAD TO ME. I WISH I COULD BE NICER TO YOU. HAPPY BIRTHDAY. YOU WILL BE 56 FOREVER. I WILL ALWAYS CARRY YOU IN MY HEART.

#hope #tw depressing stuff #tw grief #trying

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helloalycia · 3 years

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The Wrong Lifetime — Epilogue // Wanda Maximoff

chapter fourteen | story masterlist | main masterlist | wattpad

author’s note: the final part is here! thanks again to everyone who stuck around with this fic, i really appreciate it 😊💗 now enjoy!!

The sound of a rooster crowing pulled me from my slumber and I groaned when I realised I definitely wasn't getting back to bed anytime soon.

Quiet laughter came from beside me and I didn't have to open my eyes to know that Wanda was finding my disgruntled self entertaining.

"I said yes to the chickens," I mumbled tiredly, not opening my eyes as I stupidly thought it would let me contain my sleep for a little bit longer, "but I should have drawn the line at the rooster."

Her fingers grasped my shoulder as she rolled over to hover above me. I squinted through my tired eyes, seeing the amused smile on her lips as she looked down at me. Despite how much of a morning person I wasn't, I appreciated how beautiful she looked with bed hair and a nightie.

"Shut up," she said jokingly, and I closed my eyes again. "You love them."

I rolled my eyes beneath closed lids. "I'd love to cook them, sure."

She slapped my shoulder gently. "Don't talk about Nikolai, Vanya and Sonia like that!"

A smile ghosted my lips. The first thing she'd done when getting the damn chickens was name them the most Sokovian names she could think of – I shouldn't have expected anything less. Though, now it meant she was extremely attached to them.

"My apologies, love," I mumbled.

She hummed disapprovingly before putting her whole body weight on top of me and hugging me. I sighed contently, resting an arm around her waist and appreciating the feeling of her so close to me. I could have fallen back asleep in this position if it wasn't for Wanda's wide-awake, curious self. Why did she have to be such a morning person?

"So, what are your plans for today?" she asked, fingers scratching against my shoulder blade tenderly.

I exhaled calmly. "I'm going to attempt to fall back asleep right now... then I'll let you know afterwards when I wake up."

She didn't say anything after that, and I was stupid to believe I'd gotten away with it because she suddenly got up and straddled me, jumping up slightly and startling me awake.

"Wake up!" she ordered, too hyper for my sleepy self.

I groaned, rubbing my eyes and finally opening them to see her looking down at me with a grin, hair falling around her face. There was a hint of annoyance in my expression as I narrowed my eyes, but she ignored it as she rested her hands on my chest.

"I hate you," I muttered.

"You're up now, so let's do something," she insisted, making me roll my eyes. "We should go on a walk. It's pretty outside. The sun's rising and it'll be fun!"

The sun's rising because its bloody dawn and that damn rooster crows at the same time every day, leaving me disgruntled and annoyed.

But of course, I didn't have the energy to explain that to Wanda, so I simply shook my head and closed my eyes. "Maybe tomorrow, Wanda."

She suddenly leaned down, jolting me slightly and making me open my eyes. She was inches away from my face as she pouted.

"Not tomorrow, now!" she exclaimed loudly, before leaning forward and peppering kisses all over my face.

I sighed, keeping her stable by resting a hand on her waist, but not appreciating the fact that falling asleep would definitely be a challenge now.

"I love you, Wanda, but please keep it down," I said quietly, still not used to her energy so early in the morning.

"Tell me what I can do to wake you up," she said sternly, stopping kissing me and sitting upright again.

"Absolutely nothing, love."

"Oh? Nothing?"

I hummed and closed my eyes again, getting used to her weight on top of me and deciding I could probably fall back asleep if she was quiet long enough. Wishful thinking, of course.

Her fingers found mine and she slowly lifted my hand, putting it underneath her dress and on her thigh. I knew what she was doing – it was cute – but it wouldn't work.

Not even bothering to open my eyes, I said, "Wanda, darling, we've been together for three years. I am able to resist your charm, believe it or not."

"Really?" she asked challengingly, letting go of my hand and resting hers on my shoulders. "I don't believe you."

Before I could counter her with a response, she leaned down and began nibbling on my ear softly. It was a sensation I was familiar with, but I refused to let her get her way, so I ignored her stubbornly. She knew me too well though, as she let go of my ear and trailed kisses down my neck before sucking on the skin sensually. Admittedly, I was a lot more awake then I was thirty seconds ago, definitely aroused by the gorgeous woman on top of me, but she couldn't win this. Not when she was playing very unfairly.

"Wanda," I said with a warning tone, squeezing her thigh and signalling for her to stop.

I should have figured that would provoke her even more, as she manoeuvred herself so her knee was now pressing between my legs. I'm ashamed to admit that I gasped into her shoulder at the sudden pressure, and judging from the quiet laugh she let out, she was very much aware of the effect she had on me.

"I told you you couldn't resist," she said knowingly, raising her head from my neck so she could meet my eyes.

Hers were darkened with pleasure and mischievousness, darting to my lips. I glared at her.

"I really hate you."

She shook her head, tongue wetting her lips, as a playful smirk stared down at me. "No you don't. Now lose the nightdress, moya lyubov' (my love)."

I tried to retort, but she closed the gap between us, lips capturing mine in a heated kiss. I definitely didn't mind being woken up like this...

—

After actually getting out of bed, I reluctantly agreed to go on a walk with Wanda, strolling around our premises and making the most of the countryside we lived in. As much as I didn't want to admit, I was glad she'd dragged me outside, since the morning stroll only made me appreciate our home more.

When we returned, Wanda went to her studio whilst I made us some tea in the kitchen, hoping to warm us up after the slight chill in the Autumn air. I joined her soon enough, smiling when I saw how involved she was with her work in no time. The studio was big enough for her to make a mess and it not seem so messy since it was spacious enough. I shouldn't have expected any different – Wanda couldn't tidy up to save her life.

"One day I'm going trip over your things," I announced as I stepped over some loose materials by the door, teacup and saucer in hand.

She chuckled, though her attention was still on her painting. "When that day finally comes, I'll clean up. Promise."

"Of course," I muttered sarcastically.

I stopped behind her and studied the painting she was working on. It was a close-up of a flower bed, with intricate details being put in the flowers themselves and ladybirds flying around. Wanda sensed my presence and accepted the tea from my hand, smiling at me gratefully before blowing on it to cool it down.

"Is this that commission you got last week?" I asked curiously.

She nodded, unaware of the paint streaks on her face. I rested a hand on her shoulder and pressed a kiss to the top of her head, smiling at how adorable she was.

"The guy is paying double for me to put twelve ladybirds in the painting," she explained with amusement. "He wants to be able to count every single one."

I snorted with laughter. "Wow. That's very strange."

She shrugged, though I knew she was thinking the same. "A commission's a commission... is it evil if I only put eleven in?"

I laughed, nodding. She glanced up at me with a bright smile on her lips.

"It's very evil," I told her, before squeezing her shoulder.

She grabbed my hand on her shoulder, holding it comfortingly. "D'you want to do some gardening later?"

"Sure. I've just gotta do some work on my manuscript first. The writer's block is real."

"Of course," she said, giving me a knowing look. "Best-selling authors don't just become best-selling authors without putting in the work."

I rolled my eyes at her comment, but a smile played on my lips. "I'm leaving now."

She chuckled and I pressed a kiss to her cheek, trying not to get paint on my lips.

"Good luck with the writing," she said as I began to leave.

"And you with the painting," I called back.

Today was nothing special – probably a regular day when it came to Wanda and I's lives – but it made me smile. If the past three years had taught me anything, it was to be grateful for the mundane.

After Wanda broke things off with Y/B/N, it took a while for both of our families to recuperate. In their eyes, Y/B/N had broken things off because he wasn't interested in Wanda anymore, hence our parents' reaction. And Wanda's parents were upset because they believed it was her fault that Y/B/N wasn't interested, hence their reaction.

Our relationship with the Maximoffs was inescapable though, since Y/B/N and I were authors of theirs, so we had to mend what was broken. The only person who knew the truth about Wanda breaking it off with Y/B/N, apart from me and him, was Pietro. He didn't know why, but he knew that it was Wanda's choice.

After things calmed down between our families and everybody's anger had faded, around about the time that my second book was released, I'd saved enough money from the sales to buy a place of my own. With my father's help, I was able to buy a cottage in the countryside – the perfect place for privacy and to do my writing.

It was surprising that I got help from my dad, since I half expected him to be against the idea. But he was so proud of me for achieving all I had that he was happy to help. So, I got my own place and the first thing I did was invite Wanda to live with me. Nobody really saw it as more than two friends living together, especially since Wanda had started selling her paintings under a male pseudonym. Her parents were only reluctant because they wanted her to get married, but after she told them that she didn't want to and stood her ground, they left her alone.

I think they realised that they couldn't exactly stop her, and if they tried to, they'd lose their daughter in the process. So, to Wanda and I's excitement, we were moving in together...

"Are we there yet?" Wanda asked for the millionth time.

"Terpeniye (patience)," I told her, and felt her smile beneath my hands that were covering her eyes.

"Nice pronunciation," she commented, and I couldn't tell if she was teasing or not.

We finally stopped before the cottage and I was buzzing with excitement. I'd chosen it with Wanda in mind, a surprise for her, since I knew she'd only ever wanted to live in a place like this. What better way to give her that then now with me?

"Okay, this is it," I announced, removing my hands from her face.

I stepped beside her, leaning forward to see her reaction. She was raising her eyebrows with surprise, taking in the appearance of the front of the cottage. It was in a lovely field with tall trees and colourful flowers surrounding it. Vines had overgrown the bricks, but it looked stunning and I hoped Wanda would think the same.

Her lips curved upwards into a grin of disbelief. "This is it? This is ours?"

I pulled the key from my pocket and held it out towards her. "It is. All ours."

She laughed wholeheartedly, jumping up with excitement before grabbing the key and pulling me into a hug. I laughed alongside her, returning the hug, before pressing a kiss to her cheek and motioning to the door.

"Do the honours and I'll show you around," I told her with a smile.

She was practically beaming as she moved to the door, opening it. Her excitement only intensified when she saw the living-room it extended into, a large fireplace in the centre of the back wall and the furniture already in place.

"We can change the décor," I told her as I showed her around. "This came with the place, but we can change it up to however we want."

"I love it."

I intertwined our fingers, admiring the sparkle of delight in her blue eyes as she looked around the place eagerly. That was the look that made this whole thing worth it.

"You've not even see the best bit," I said, before tugging her into the hallway. "There's a kitchen and our bedroom and of course, a study for me, but this is the bit I know you'll love."

She watched with curiosity but allowed me to skip the other rooms and show her the room that I envisioned as her art studio. It was a spacious room, filled with random, old furniture from the previous owners, but I ignored it and stepped further inside, facing Wanda.

"This can be your studio!" I exclaimed, motioning around me. "Look, here can be where your desk can be." I pointed to the left wall, the space in front of it. "You can get some shelves put here for your supplies. And here–" I pointed to the space before the window at the back, "–is where you can paint on your easels. The natural light will be perfect!"

She followed my every move, hanging onto my every word, and nodded along with a joyful expression.

"I can't believe you've already thought about it," she admitted.

"Come here," I said, waving my hand for her to join me. She did and I wrapped an arm around her waist, stopping before the window. "You see that?"

"The perfect view," she realised, eyes wide as they took in the view of the garden, which I planned to show her next. "It's beautiful."

"You can paint everything there," I said with a nod. "The trees. The flowers. And this place isn't far from the train station, so we can take some day trips, too."

She leaned into my side gratefully. "Y/N, I love it. All of it."

My heart fluttered as she said that, it being all I wanted to hear.

"We can also get the coop for the chickens you wanted," I reminded her, before pointing out the window. "Right there. We'll get fresh eggs and they're cute – what's not to love?"

She pulled apart, arms still laced around me, and I waited to see what she thought. Her eyes twinkled in the sunlight coming from the window, matching the smile on her lips. Then she moved forward quickly, kissing me hard and leaving me no chance to react before she pulled away.

"I have no words," she said softly, caressing my cheek. "I'm so grateful."

My face was warm as I smiled shyly. "I'm glad. You know I'd do anything for you."

Her smile widened as she leaned in again. "Thank you."

Moving in with her was the best thing to happen to me, and my dream of being published had come true, so that was saying a lot. We both knew we could never get married and be together in public, but this was the next best thing. We had our own little slice of heaven to merely be, and it was perfect. She could paint as much as she liked and I could write as much as I liked, the two of us making a living and not having to rely on husbands we didn't love.

The only people who knew about the truth of our relationship was Steve. I knew I could never trust my family with the truth, knowing liking women was very different to becoming a writer. So, I was content with them living in denial about why Wanda and I lived together. Wanda was the same with her parents, but it was a few months into moving in when she decided she wanted to tell Pietro.

I was obviously hesitant, since Pietro was a standup guy, the reason I was even as successful as I was, but I wasn't sure if he'd be okay with discovering his sister liked women and I was the one she was with. Wanda was certain he'd understand though, since he was her twin and would only want the best for her. Plus, according to her, he loved me, so he wouldn't have a problem with it.

He was her twin at the end of the day, and nobody knew him better than her, so I trusted her to tell him and decided we could do it at dinner, inviting both him, Steve and Peggy over. Peggy didn't know about Wanda and I either, but I wanted to tell her, so we decided to do it together...

"We've been here three times and it still makes me jealous how peaceful it is," Peggy complimented as the five of us sat around the kitchen table. "No annoying neighbours. No nosy townspeople. It's perfect."

"Thank you," Wanda said with a friendly smile. "That's why we love it, too."

"Are you all finished?" I asked, standing up to grab mine and Wanda's plates.

"Oh, please, let me help," Pietro offered, about to stand up, but I shook my head.

"It's okay, I've got it," I politely declined, before stacking the plates together to take to the sink.

I glanced at Wanda and she gave me a knowing look before clearing her throat and looking to her brother.

"Piet, can you help me with something in my studio?" she asked him casually. "There's a lightbulb I can't quite reach."

He nodded and wiped his face with his napkin. "Er, sure." He looked to everyone else. "If you'll excuse me."

The two of them left the kitchen, leaving me with Steve and Peggy. I distracted myself with putting the plates in the sink before popping the kettle on, knowing they'd want tea.

"Dinner was lovely, Y/N, thank you for tonight," Steve started, easing the tension he knew I was feeling. I'd told him my intentions before inviting them and he was completely okay with the idea. "You and Wanda seem to be more and more comfortable every time we come here."

I leaned against the counter as I smiled gratefully at him, knowing he was giving me an opening to tell Peggy the truth.

"Yeah, we are," I said, eyes flickering to Peggy's as she watched on with interest. "We, er..."

My mouth went dry as the words I'd practiced in the mirror this morning escaped me. I'd only ever told Steve about Wanda and I, and that was by accident. I knew Peggy wouldn't judge me, but it was still terrifying to admit.

"Y/N, sweetie, are you okay?" Peggy asked, a hint of concern in her voice.

I nodded, swallowing hard. "Yes, sorry..." I just had to say it. No more overthinking. "Wanda and I are together. As more than more friends. I'm in love with her."

Peggy raised her brows with surprise, barely believing it, but then she glanced at Steve and knew I was being serious. I let out a breath of relief, glad that I'd finally said it.

She stood up from her seat and I was half-afraid she'd leave altogether, but she didn't. She walked to me and pulled me in for a hug, squeezing me gently.

"Thank you for trusting me with such an important thing," she said, pulling away and smiling at me gently. "I guess it makes sense. You both compliment each other well and make each other happy. It's beautiful to see."

"Thank you," I said, returning her smile. "That means a lot coming from you."

She nodded and glanced at her husband. "I take it Steve already knew."

He raised his hands in defence. "Hey, I basically figured it out myself!"

She rolled her eyes playfully and I couldn't help but laugh.

"He did," I backed him up. "And he was the only person to know, so I owe him a lot. He gave me the support I wanted when I had nobody else."

Peggy smiled endearingly at Steve before looking to me with kind eyes. "Well, now you're not alone. You have me, too."

"I know. I'm glad."

"Does anybody else know? Or is it just Steve and I?" she asked hesitantly.

"Just you two," I explained. "My family would never understand. Especially with Wanda and her history with my brother. Same with her family. But she's actually telling Pietro about us now. I can only hope he'll take it well."

Peggy was certain as she said, "I'm sure he will."

I made tea for all of us and joined Peggy and Steve at the table as we waited for the Maximoff twins' return. Eventually, Wanda returned with her brother in tow and judging by the smile on her face, I could only hope it went well. Though I noticed the tear streaks on her cheeks and joined her side with mild concern.

"Are you okay?" I asked, grabbing her hand, but I didn't get chance to hear a response as I felt myself being lifted off the ground.

"Y/N!" Pietro exclaimed in my ear, hugging me from behind. "Welcome to the family, sestra (sister)!"

He set me down and stepped beside his sister, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and tugging her close. A grin was directed my way as Wanda's cheeks dusted pink. She was glowing with happiness, her brother's opinion mattering the most, and it warmed my heart to witness.

"I see things went well," I noticed, before smiling at Pietro. "Thank you, Pietro. It means a lot to have your support. Though you know this doesn't make me your sister, right?"

"Yet," he pointed out, making me sigh. "You know, I always suspected you had the hots for my sister, but I could never be sure."

Now it was my turn to flush with embarrassment, especially when Steve and Peggy laughed from the sidelines.

"Wanda's happiness is all that matters to me," he continued, looking to his sister with a genuine smile. "I'm glad she picked the right Y/L/N."

I chuckled awkwardly, eyes falling to a nervous Wanda. "Me and you both, mate." He laughed, patting me on the back, and I gave him an appreciative nod. "Seriously, though, thank you, Pietro. Your approval means a lot."

"No problem," he said with a shrug. "I'm always here if you need me."

"As are we," Peggy added, before looking to Wanda. "Both of you. Anything you need, ever, just let us know. It's what we're here for."

"Thank you," Wanda said for both of us, and when she looked my way, I knew she was thinking the same thing I was.

We were lucky that the most important people in our lives knew the truth about us and were supportive. We couldn't have asked for anything more.

—

As promised, after spending the morning on my manuscript and Wanda with her commission, we went into the garden to do some gardening. And by we, I meant I was doing it as she attempted to help out beside me.

"Hey, I think there's something stuck here," Wanda said, fingers stuck in a pot of soil.

"Then pull it out," I said like it was obvious, trying not to laugh.

I continued to rake the plant beds before me so I could eventually plant some vegetable seeds when Wanda's adamant voice spoke up again.

"I think you should check it out, Y/N, I can't seem to get it."

"Wanda..."

"Come on!" she insisted, and I sighed dramatically before dropping my rake and heading towards her.

Kneeling down beside her, I took a peek in the plant pot and put my hand in, rooting around until my fingers found something metal.

"It seems to be a ring," I realised, pulling it out and dusting the soil off it. "Maybe the suppliers of the soil dropped it in accidentally. Or maybe a bird dropped it in the pot without you realising..." I chewed on my lip with thought. "Huh. Well, here you go."

I gave it back to Wanda and prepared myself to stand back up, but Wanda groaned and facepalmed.

"What's got your knickers in a twist?" I asked with an amused smile.

She looked up at me through parted fingers. "It's my ring."

"How many times have I told you to stop wearing rings when we're gardening?!" I said questioningly, shaking my head. "Stuff like this always happens!"

She rolled her eyes and looked up to the sky. "Why am I in love with an idiot?"

"Wanda–"

"It's for you," she said, holding out the ring.

I furrowed my brows. "Well, why didn't you just– wait." My eyes widened as I realised what she was implying, feeling stupid for not realising sooner. "Is this– are you– huh?"

Wanda swallowed nervously before clutching the ring tightly and meeting my gaze. "I've been in love with you for a long time, you know that," she said softly, her accent thick with emotion. "The time we've spent here in our little safe haven has been the best of my life. And I... I know we live in a world that won't let us be together. But that hasn't stopped us."

My heart was hammering in my chest as Wanda offered me a small, nervous smile. We'd never talked about marriage since we were so content in our little bubble, but clearly she'd thought about it without me knowing. I guess I had, too. But I never expected either of us to do anything about it.

"I know we can never really be married, but what is marriage if not a union between two people who are in love anyway? I mean, we basically already have that." She snickered to ease her nerves, then licked her lips shakily, eyes tearing up. "I'm asking you to marry me and if you say yes, I'll know you're my wife and that's all that'll matter... so Y/N Y/L/N. Will you marry me?"

I didn't even need to think about it. Wanda was the love of my life and just like she'd said, the past three years had been the best. We could never truly be married in the eyes of the world, but she'd be my wife and that would be enough. She'd always be enough.

"Of course I will, Wanda," I answered, tears of happiness slipping from my eyes.

She raised her eyebrows. "Yes? You said yes?"

I laughed, nodding, and leaned forward to kiss her. She returned the favour, salty tears mingling between our lips, but it didn't matter because she was going to be my wife and that's all I could think about.

Our smiles broke the kiss and I wiped her tears away with my thumb before pressing another kiss to her lips.

"Here, let me put this on you," she said between laughter, hands fumbling as she tried to find mine.

I put out my hand and let her slide the ring on my finger. It was a simple silver band with a small, elegant gemstone sat on top, perfect for someone like me who didn't like anything too flashy.

"It's beautiful, Wanda, thank you," I said, smiling through my tears.

"I've been wanting to ask you for a while, but I wasn't sure you'd say yes," she admitted.

"Are you joking? Why wouldn't I?" I asked with an exploding happiness in my chest. "I'm so bloody in love with you, Wanda Maximoff."

She laced our fingers together as she nodded in agreement. "That's good. Because I'm in love with you, too."

And when she said that, it wasn't unlike anything she'd told me before. If she wasn't telling me she loved me, she was showing me in all sorts of ways. But this was different... this was the first time she'd told me as my fiancé. And then she'd soon be my wife. And it made me realise.

I'd spent so long thinking that if we were in a different life, we could have had it all. But we were getting it all now, so maybe, just maybe, this wasn't the wrong lifetime after all.

FIN.

#wanda maximoff au #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #marvel #marvel imagine #wanda maximoff #mcu #elizabeth olsen #elizabeth olsen x you #elizabeth olsen x reader #scarlet witch #scarlet witch imagine

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bonnyskies · 3 years

Text

deadly agenda ⇢ myg

min yoongi is a dangerous man. you’re a manipulative wife. together, you two are a deadly duo, and you both have your own agenda.

pairing — emperor!yoongi x wife!malereader ft. king-husband!taehyung

genres — angst, sexual themes, royalty!au, strangers-to-lovers!au

warnings — age-gap (reader is 20, yoongi is 28), swearing, degrading terms, mentions of death, feminization, descriptions of murder, sexual themes, infidelity, betrayal, slight voyeurism, yoongi is intimidating and reader is manipulative, basically they’re just plain evil

author’s note — i hate tumblr’s new update. i had more to write (not enough for a part two) but couldn’t because of the new 250 text box rule. but as for this story, this is probably the longest one i’ve written so far and the one i’m most proud of. anyway, hope you all enjoy and sorry for taking so long to upload this, took lots of planning and rewriting, plus i’ve been busy with school too.

word count — 7.4k

masterlist

Min Yoongi is a cautious, yet observant man.

Whoever steps foot in his palace, he makes sure to know everything about them. Who they are, they’re background, appearance, and how they approach him. Each and every thing can help him learn who he can trust, and who he cannot, who are his allies—and who are his enemies.

Yoongi stood by his palace’s entrance, accompanied with his guards and greeted his special guests, one by one as they walked up his home’s grand steps. He makes sure to take notes on each and every person’s facial expression, their appearance, chosen attire, and the certain way they walk up to him.

Anything could benefit him into knowing them. Their wealth and clan can be identified based on their specific appearance and choice of clothing. Their facial expressions help him learn what their true feelings and intentions are towards him that are hidden by their fake smiles and words. And lastly, the way they walk up to him can help him know the type of personality they have, whether that be obedient and innocent, or arrogant and untrustworthy.

The way he learns about his guests have never failed him. That was, until he met you.

Yoongi would be lying if he said he wasn’t astonished when his eyes laid on you for the first time. There were many things that left him utterly speechless when meeting you. For one, when his advisor told him that his guest would be bringing his wife, he was expecting a woman—not a man.

Another thing that left Yoongi speechless was your appearance, mostly your attire. You were dressed in feminine-like clothing, silk robes that were decorated with gold jewelry instead of fine material clothing with armor plating like what many men of royalty wear. And you also didn’t hold a blade like most men do too. Instead, you held a simple wooden decorative fan.

And lastly, your eyes.

Yoongi has a remarkable judge of character. Maybe not as good when it came to you, but still adequate. On the outside, your eyes were shining with gentleness and a kind greeting. But he could tell there was something else hidden behind them—something that left him intrigued by you.

You had an agenda—plans, and Yoongi was determined to find out what they are.

The welcoming feast was extremely dull.

Yoongi absorbed gallons of wine into his system, hoping that would help numb his mind and get through the rest of the evening without having to tear somebody’s head off from their body.

And apparently you thought the same as he did. Across the table, Yoongi watched as you fanned yourself out of boredom while everyone else were socializing with one another, an unamused facial expression shown on your face. Yoongi couldn’t help but chuckle behind his glass when seeing one of the other wives say something to you and you flashed her a quick smile before dropping it back down into a straight line.

It seems his attention on you didn’t go unnotice because next thing he knew, your eyes were now on him. Yoongi was expecting hints of disgust or uncomfort from you, but instead he was met with sly smirk and a raised brow.

Yoongi watches intently as you leaned over and whispered into your husband’s ear. Your husband—Kim Taehyung then stood up from his seat and bowed his head, “Excuse me, your Majesty.”

Yoongi turned his head towards your husband, diverting his attention completely away from you.

“My wife is not feeling well at the moment, so with your permission, would it be alright if he can take his leave from the feast early?”

The entire dining hall fell silent, shocked expressions plastered on everyone’s faces at the table.

Nobody has ever dared to leave one of Min Yoongi’s feasts before. Who would want to, right? It’s considered a great honor for one self and their kingdom to be invited by the Emperor himself to attend one of his events.

Whispers began to spread amongst the guests.

“How shameless is Kim Taehyung’s wife?”

“Wanting to leave the Emperor’s feast early? Utterly shameless I tell you.”

“That Taehyung needs to discipline his wife.”

“Doesn’t he know how important his Majesty’s events are? And he wants to leave just because he isn’t feeling well? Unbelievable.”

“He needs to learn some manners—”

Anxiety swept across Taehyung’s face when hearing the gossips coming from the other royals, eyes wide and mouth gaped open with panic. “Forgive me, your Majesty, I never intended to—”

With just the clear of his throat, everybody fell silent once again and all eyes were now on him. Yoongi’s gaze would shift between you and your husband, curiosity filling his veins when noticing that there wasn’t any signs of illness presently visible on you. You weren’t trembling, your eyes weren’t red and skin wasn’t showing any signs of flushness. You looked fine.

That only caused more questions to form in Yoongi’s mind. Like, what do you exactly want, and what is your reason for being here? Because according to his advisor, you weren’t even part of the guest list until today. That only raised even more suspicions he had towards you.

And it’s not like he can just throw you out—actually, he can. It’s just that he doesn’t want to because now he’s curious, and he wants to see how things turn out.

“He can go,” Yoongi says a brief silence, immediately noticing the small smile creeping onto your lips. “But take him to see the physician and let him check him out,” and then it dropped.

“N-No, your Majesty,” you spoke up, lips parted. “You don’t have to do that—”

“You’re feeling unwell, right?” Yoongi then asks, smirking at the silence he got in reply. “Well, you should let my physician diagnose you then. Don’t worry though, you’re in great hands.”

One of his guards that stood by his side approached you and started to guide you to the physician’s office. And while you were leaving, Yoongi could see the glare coming from you and aimed right at him.

If you wanted to play games with him, he’ll play.

Wandering through the palace halls at night was something Yoongi usually does whenever he can’t sleep.

And apparently you had the same tendency too.

While mindlessly strolling through his palace’s hallways, Yoongi’s eyes suddenly landed on your approaching figure, the first thing catching his attention was your choice of clothing. You were dressed in golden inner robes, your sleep-wear, and the material was so thin and transparent that every feature about you was visible to him. The sight of your clear, smooth skin and every curve of your body and muscles made his mouth water. It was like you were purposely dressed like that to seduce him.

Another thing that caught his eye was the small, slightly torn grayish book that was in your grasp, which was where your complete attention was on because you still haven’t noticed his presence despite the two of you walking towards the other.

“Hello, your Highness,” you jumped out of fear, eyes wide and closing your book when your gaze landed on him. “May I ask why you are wandering around my palace this late at night?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” you simply answered, fingers tight around the cover the book, which only made Yoongi even more curious as to what you were exactly reading. “And it seems you are having the same problem as well, am I correct?”

Yoongi only hummed in reply, taking another small step towards you until you two now stood only inchest apart, him towering over you and staring down right at you. “Is there something wrong with your chambers? I can tell my servants to move you and your husband into a more comfortable place for you—”

“No no, your Majesty,” you were quick to interject. “Everything is perfect. It’s just that I’ve always had trouble sleeping at another royal’s residence, that’s all.”

Yoongi couldn’t help but find your reason funny, because he has always had trouble sleeping when there were other people staying in his palace.

A brief silence came between you two before Yoongi spoke up once again, “I’ll be taking a quick walk around my garden, you can accompany me if you like.” He didn’t wait for your reply before leaving, but when hearing the sound of your footsteps behind him right after, a smirk grew on his lips.

“You know, you never really introduced yourself when we first met,” Yoongi then brought up while the two of you made your way to the gardens.

“Forgive me, your Majesty,” you bowed your head apologetically before replying, “My name is ___, Kim ___.”

“It’s a great pleasure to meet you, Kim ___,” Yoongi reached down and took your hand into his, pressing a soft, yet tender kiss on the back of your palm, smirking at the evident blush forming on your cheeks. “And I’ve got to say, you are looking quite well for someone that claimed to be feeling sick not even three hours ago,” and that is when your smile dropped.

“Must’ve been my anxiety,” you were quick to reply back, your eyes never leaving his. “After all, I am staying at the Emperor’s palace for the first time.”

Yoongi was impressed honestly, he had to admit. For everything he had to say against you, you had something say right back at him. There isn’t a lot of people who have that type of skill to think of words—believeable words right on the spot. Anybody would believe what you were saying—too bad he isn’t just anybody.

“Must be...,” Yoongi just says, eyeing you slightly. His gaze then shifted onto the book in your hand. “What are you reading there?”

“Oh this,” you held the book up, “It’s called Flowers of the Region—a guide to every type of flower that is grown and can be found in both the South and the North. It’s my favorite book.”

“Well, that’s fortunate,” Yoongi points out, “you like flowers, and we so happen to be going to my garden. What’s your favorite flower?”

“Lily of the Valley,” you answer with a smile. “Have you heard of it?”

“I have,” Yoongi replied, his interest towards you growing even more. Lily of the Valley, despite the beautiful features of the white flower, it is proven to be quite deadly when digested. “They are only found on top of the Southern mountains—but lucky for you, I happen to grow them right here in my garden.”

Your smile grew even wider. “That’s great.”

The rest of the walk to the gardens was in silence with you trailing forward while Yoongi stood back. And with your eyes focused on the path in front of you, Yoongi couldn’t help but send glances at you every once in a while, his eyes burning into your back, admiring at the clear view your smooth skin through the thin, transparent material of your inner robes.

He surely needs to give whoever crafted your sleepwear a raise—and a big one too.

When the two of you finally got to the gardens, you were left instantly speechless at the sight of the many plots of different flowers, ranging from beautiful, vibrant ones that were quite common to dark, mysterious ones that you’ve never even seen before.

Yoongi couldn’t deny how adorable you looked though when seeing his garden for the first time, eyes wide, shining with admiration and your mouth gaped open.

“This is beautiful,” you gasped, leaning down and running your fingers delicately over some flowers.

“Thank you,” Yoongi stood beside you, “I make sure my gardeners take good care of this place.”

Silenced filled the atmosphere as Yoongi stood back and silently watched you admiring the many flowers. Normally he’d be annoyed for someone touching his property, but for some odd reason when it came to you he didn’t mind so much. Perhaps it’s because this might be the only way for him to get close to you and learn about your true intentions—or maybe he just really wants to fuck you.

Yoongi found himself once again staring at you, watching as you bent over to get a closer look at one of the flowers, giving him a perfect view of your ass and hips, both in which he wants to grab and caress with his large hands.

“So,” Yoongi spoke up after some silence, “how exactly did you become the new Lady Kim?”

Yoongi instantly noticed the way your body tensed from his question. “I was his Highness’s personal servant. When his wife suddenly passed away, he was a complete mess and I was the only one that stayed by his side through the entire mourning process. I was the one that comforted him whenever he was feeling down, I made sure he was taking care of himself and helped him with his royal duties.”

Yoongi then noticed your shoulder slumping. “After about a month or so, he started seeking me for a...different kind of comfort.” Sex. “Soon later he decided to make his new wife—the new Lady Kim.”

“You don’t seem so happy about the change in position,” Yoongi commented, “I’m sure this is much better than being a simple servant. You’re a royal now.”

“Oh, I am,” you quickly corrected him, “But being a man and having a feminine title can sometimes make things complicated.”

“Well then, don’t make them complicated.” Yoongi suggested, “You’re not a servant anymore, you’re a royal. They may not respect you now, but you have the power to make them do so.”

“Don’t worry, I know,” you told him sternly. “They’ll learn to respect me. Whether that be the hard way or the easy way—it’s their choice. So you better watch out, your Majesty, or something bad might happen to you,” you laughed softly.

Yoongi released a forceful chuckle, eyes briefly squinting at you suspiciously. It may have sound like a harmless joke, but to him, he could hear the small hints of truth behind them. “Oh trust me, I will. I wouldn’t want you as an enemy.”

“And you as well,” you replied, eyeing him back.

Silence came between you two again, Yoongi leaving you to inspect his garden in peace while he stood back and watched you. It wasn’t until an hour has passed you spoke up again, yawning, “we should head back to bed, your Majesty. We have that conference in the morning with the other royals and we need the energy.”

“You’re right,” Yoongi agreed, nodding and stepping aside so that you could walk ahead of him and back inside the place with him following right beside you. “Let me walk you back to your room.”

You didn’t say anything, only held your head low to hide the small grin on your face as the both of you made your back to the chambers. And as you two got closer to your destination, you both were froze at the sound of moaning.

Yoongi was confused at first as who it could be, but when turning to you and seeing the hardened expression on your face, he knew.

“O-Oh, Taehyung—f-faster, please!”

Yoongi was speechless. He knew many royals took on concubines while being married, but he didn’t know someone could so shameless as to bringing them to another person’s residence alongside their spouse. “Your Highness—”

“Don’t bother, your Majesty,” you spoke calmly, eyes hard and emotionless. “I’m use to it by now and it doesn’t really bother me anymore.”

“Really, it doesn’t?”

You shook your head. “At first it did, but after sleeping with my husband so many times I have learned that the only person he cares to satisfy is himself.”

Yoongi couldn’t help but chuckle. What kind of husband doesn’t have the desire to satisfy is own wife? Maybe he should take you to his chambers and show you exactly what you’re missing. “Well, I-I’m still sorry for you.”

You simply shrugged your shoulders, “it doesn’t matter, your Majesty. Have a good night.”

Yoongi watched as you then opened the door went inside the chamber, causing your husband and the woman to stop and look at you with wide eyes.

“Don’t mind me,” you said to them, not even bothering to glance at them, shocking Yoongi. “I’ll be on the balcony reading my book. Just let me when you two are done.”

Taehyung’s attention instantly went back to the woman that was straddling his lap when hearing your words, hands kneading her breasts and hips and started thrusting back up into her, causing moans to erupt from both of them. Yoongi didn’t why, but the sight of them made his blood boil.

Maybe he should go in there and fuck you in front of your husband? That’ll show him what he is missing out.

Yoongi continued to watch through the crack in the door as you walked past the couple and went onto the balcony. And once you were out of his sight, that’s when he finally got a clear view of the woman on your husband’s lap, and he instantly recognized her. She was one of the servants that accompanied you and Taehyung here. Yoongi distinctly remembered seeing her earlier today, serving you tea after you got back from seeing the physician.

Yoongi glared at the couple, scoffing at the sight. What did that Kim Taehyung see in that whore of a servant that you don’t have?

You are far more enticing than she is.

Taking one last glance at the shameless couple, Yoongi retreated back to his chambers. And while he did so, his mind suddenly went back to you. How did someone so...unique end up with a man like Kim Taehyung? He’s a weak person, a shame to royal blood. You deserve to be with someone with real power, someone who would never leave you unsatisfied, both physically and emotionally. Someone like me.

Yoongi could feel himself harden just from the thought of you.

Damn you for having this type of power over me, his mind cursed. Yoongi has slept with countless of other royals before, both men and women, and he has never encountered someone like you.

You are truly something else.

“Damn,” Yoongi mumbled out to nobody in particular, palming himself through his robes. “How the hell am I going to get rid of this?”

And right on queue, a young servant boy just happened to be walking right by Yoongi when the question ran through his head.

“Stop,” was all he said, making the servant boy freeze in his place.

“Y-Yes, your Majesty?”

Yoongi took slow, intimidating steps towards him until he was towering over him, using his hands to cup his chin and forcing the servant boy to meet his eyes. “How would you feel having the honor of spending the night with your Emperor?”

The servant boy couldn’t stop the small smile from forcing on his face. “I-I would love that, your Majesty.”

That was Yoongi needed to hear before leaning down capturing the servant’s boys lips with his, hands moving to his thighs and hoisting him up in his arms and carrying him into his chambers, lips never separating.

“You’re a eager one, are you?” Yoongi chuckled against the servant boy’s mouth, moving his lips down his neck and forcing a whimpering moan from him.

“I-It’s my duty to serve y-you, your Majesty.”

That brought a smile on Yoongi’s lips.

Yoongi couldn’t find you anywhere the next day.

He couldn’t find at you breakfast, he couldn’t find you during the conference with the other royals and their wives, and he couldn’t find you at lunch. Now as dinner was approaching, there still wasn’t any sign of you anywhere.

But he had no problem finding your husband. Wherever he saw Taehyung, he saw that whore of a servant trailing behind him like a pet—but you no where to be seen.

Yoongi thought about approaching him to ask about your whereabouts, but he couldn’t help but think of the consequences that would happen afterwards. But that still didn’t stop him from sending glares at the younger royal and the servant every now and then, which didn’t go unnotice by either of them.

“Is there something wrong, your Majesty,” Taehyung finally asks, breaking the tensed silence between the two of them. “You’ve been staring at me all day today and haven’t said a single word.”

“Oh nothing,” Yoongi simply replies, eyes still trained on him while twirling his glass of wine. “Just wondering where your wife is at right now, since everyone else is here. Is he still not feeling well from last night?”

For a very very brief moment, Yoongi could see panic glinting in his eyes before answering, “o-oh yes, your Majesty, he told me that he’s still feeling unwell so I allowed him stay back in the room.”

Liar, was Yoongi’s first thought, eyes glaring even more at the long, black-haired royal.

Everyone at the table could feel the tension between their Emperor and the young royal, and still no one chose to speak up about it.

Yoongi had a reputation. He is the first ever Emperor to achieve the throne through combat rather than family bloodline—and he is also the youngest ruler to ever be placed higher than a simple king. But that weren’t the only things he was known for. He was also generally known for being intelligent and quite reserved, and cruel if absolutely necessary, and also able to hold a grudge. It may sound simple, but everybody knew that if their Emperor had something against you, your days were limited.

So that’s why nobody chose to speak up when seeing the menancing glares their Emperor were sending at the youngest and only surviving Kim. Because they knew if they intervened, they’d only anger him and get on his list, and that’s the exact opposite of what they want to do.

“Your Majesty,” his advisor suddenly whispered right beside him. “I think it would be a good idea to continue the meeting. Some of your guests has some things to say about the...improvements you’re doing to the North.”

Yoongi clenched his jaw, eyes scanning over Taehyung once more before turning his attention to the other royals. “Sure,” he then says, “which one of you want to speak first?”

Not even a second later, Park Jimin, ruler of the Park Kingdom stood up from his seat and spoke. “Your Majesty, my council and I believe that the border that you have placed around my region is completely unnecessary.”

“How so?” Yoongi asks, leaning back against his chair with an amused look on his face. He had to admit that he was impressed that the blonde man was the first to speak up. He may not be the youngest royal out of everyone, but he certainly is the one with the least experience when it came politics.

“For starters your border cuts right through my kingdom’s river, slicing our water supply in half,” he starts, voice slightly raising. “And the amount of wood you required for the construction of the wall resulted in about ninety percent of the forests in my region to be completely cut down, forcing most of my workers into unemployment.”

Yoongi continued to listen closely with his hands laced together and resting on top of his chest, rocking back and forth in his chair with an intent glint in his eyes.

“I also find it completely unfair how your border only crosses over my kingdom but no one else’s.” Jimin continued to rant, jamming his finger repeatedly angerly against the table while keeping his eye contact with him. “I think it’s not for protection like you have claimed many of times, but as a prison, to keep my people in check. You’re nothing but a—”

Yoongi slammed his hand heavily onto the table, instantly silencing the young royal and causing everyone to gulp nervously. He may at times find it amusing when someone fights back, but he will never allow anyone to talk down against him, not in his own residence.

“You think I built that wall as a prison?” Yoongi asks, chuckling when the blonde man didn’t reply. “Are you forgetting what happened before I built that wall? Spies from the South would come right into our territories and would gather information on us, murder our people in their sleep—that’s how your parents died, am I correct? Some spy that sneaked into their palace assassinated them when they were asleep? It would such a shame if the same thing happens to you—after I take down the wall, of course.”

Yoongi smirked when noticing the seeing Jimin’s jaw clenching and hands angrily balling into fists. “So don’t you ever accuse me again? Because everything I do is for the best of my people, not just yours. The wall is only bordering your land because your land is the only one that connects with the South.”

Jimin’s head hung low, hands unclenching and lips dropping into the frown.

“So before you come at me, you should make sure that you have all the information, do you understand me?” Jimin nodded and sat down.

Everybody tensed when Yoongi then stood up from his seat and slowly, intimidatingly made his way to Jimin’s chair. And when placing his hands on the younger man’s shoulders, Yoongi couldn’t help but chuckle when feeling him jump slightly underneath his touch. “Normally I’d kill anyone who spoke to me that way,” leaning down, he whispered into Jimin’s ear, sending chills along his pale skin, “but I’ll let it slide for once since you’re new to this whole thing.”

“T-Thank you, your Majesty.”

With one last pat on the shaking man’s shoulder, Yoongi pulled away, and he was standing straight again, his eyes suddenly fell on your figure who stood near the entrance of the conference hall. But you weren’t alone, no, three servants that he couldn’t recognize was with you. The four of you seemed to be in a deep conversation, and with everybody focused on him, nobody noticed you.

Yoongi’s eyes slightly squinted out of suspicion when seeing you then bow your head at the three servants, a smile on your face before each of you went your separate ways.

Yoongi is definitely going to look into that.

“Now,” returning his attention back to his guests, Yoongi leaned himself against the table, keeping close to the blonde man that was still trembling. “Does anyone else have anything to say to me?”

“N-No no, your Majesty,” Jung Hoseok, another royal spoke up, gulping anxiously as he tightened his hand around his wife’s who sat beside him. “We have no complaints whatsoever, you’re doing an amazing job—the perfect ruler.”

Kiss ass, Yoongi rolled his eyes, pushing himself away from the table. He then shifted his attention towards your husband and asks, “what about you, your Highness? Anything to say?”

Taehyung shook his head. “No, your Majesty.”

“What a bunch spineless people,” Yoongi’s mind scoffed, and he couldn’t agree more.

His advisor then rose from his chair and spoke up, “okay everyone, thank you all for attending his Majesty’s annual end of conference feast this year. You may all now return to your rooms and get some rest before heading back to your own residences in the morning.”

Yoongi stayed back and bid farewell to everyone, and once everyone was gone he left the conference hall with only one thing on his mind—you. He was determined to find out what exactly were you and those three servants were discussing about. Yoongi was so rapt on you that he didn’t even hear his advisor calling out of him to come back.

He practically jogged to the chambers hall, heading straight to your room and when he got there, just as he was about barge right through the door he was then stopped by a sudden sound. Moans could be heard on the other side of the door—female moans. Yoongi’s hands were already hovering over the door handle before he opened it slightly to where there was only a crack, giving him the view of seeing your husband with same servant girl from the night before.

Yoongi watches as she claws his back, legs wrapped tightly around his waist as he place open mouth kisses along her bare chest and thrusted deep into her, causing loud, pleasurable moans to erupt from both of their mouths.

“T-Tae,” the young servant girl gasped, hands running up and down his sweaty back and fingers digging into his marked, glistening skin. “I’m close.”

“Me too, love,” he groaned back, leaning down and capturing her lips into a passionate kiss. “Together, okay...?”

Utterly shameless, Yoongi shook his head and pushed away from the door with disgust. Just as he was about to continue searching for you, he froze at the sound a voice behind him—a female voice.

“Are you looking for Lady Kim, your Majesty?”

Yoongi turned around and was greeted by one of your servants, hands laced together and hanging in front of her with a wide smile on her face. “No, I’m not,” he quickly replied, shaking his head. He expected her to just nod her head and leave, but instead she released a small chuckle and turned around, saying in a soft tone, “follow me.”

Yoongi was hesitant, eyes burning suspiciously into the servant girl’s back as she began to walk away. But he soon decided to follow her despite the constant warnings that were running through his head at the moment.

The servant’s gaze was trained on the path in front of her, not even bothering to acknowledge the glare she was receiving by platinum-haired man that was trailing right behind her.

The warnings that were consuming Yoongi’s head started to get louder as he continued to follow her deeper into his residence, parts of his home that he hasn’t even been in.

Yoongi stopped in his place when the servant led him to a room with dark, double doors. “What is this,” he asks with a cold expression, causing the young girl to chuckle and open the door without saying a word to him. He was about to question her even more but when he got to see what was behind the door, leaving him speechless.

Standing right in front him was you, along with over a dozen guards and servants that were from many different kingdoms. Some of the guards and servants were part of the Park Kingdom, some were from the Jung Kingdom, and others were from your own home.

“What’s going on here?” Yoongi asks, his eyes glancing across the many different pairs that were staring right back at him.

“They work for me,” came out of your mouth. “We are all part of movement that believes that the North needs a change in leadership—which is you. You’re the only that deserves to rule the North, not these cowards.”

Yoongi was speechless. For once in his life he didn’t know to say. For the first time he wasn’t the one that was planning in the shadows, plotting against somebody—but instead it was people who he has never even met before. “Why,” was the only thing that came out of his mouth.

“Because war is coming your Majesty,” you stepped towards him to where you stood only inches away from his face, staring up to meet his eyes. “My agents told me that the South is planning an invasion into our territory, and the way the other kingdoms are ruling their land—we won’t survive this war. You are the only one that is capable of leading us to victory.”

Yoongi turned towards your followers. “Do you all agree with him?”

“Yes, your Majesty,” one of the guards spoke up. Each and every person then stepped forward and began to speak loudly on their opinions of their leaders.

“Park Jimin is too young to be King—he doesn’t know how to rule.”

“He can’t even hold a sword properly.”

“Jung Hoseok is a spineless man!”

“Damn right he is! The moment the South comes barging intl his palace, he’ll do whatever it takes to save his own skin and not his people.”

“Kim Taehyung is shameless bastard who would rather spend his time fucking his servants than leading his own Kingdom.”

Yoongi could see you snicker at that comment.

“He spends our taxes buying whores instead of using it to improve our home.”

“None of them belong on the throne!”

“They are right, your Majesty,” you stared at him with a small smirk on your lips. “Out of everyone, you’re the only that deserves to rule us. You are the one who will lead us to glory.”

Yoongi stared down at you with such desire. He may have found you attractive before, but now he couldn’t help but find you utterly irresistible. “So this isn’t just some power trip? Doing all this just to get to the top?”

Yoongi had his suspicions already about the war. He has heard from his own agents that the South were planning on some sort of invasion, but there wasn’t any evidence that confirmed that. So sadly he hasn’t been able to do any preparations—at least, none without the other royals knowledge of it.

You shook your head. “I don’t care about power, your Majesty—only survival, and you’re the best way to achieve that.”

“I see,” Yoongi reached up and stroked his chin, “how would you all do this anyway? Kill the rulers of each Kingdom can be tricky, and what about their heirs?”

“It’s quite easy,” you answered with a small grin. “They all have their jobs,” you nodded at your followers, “once they are home and unguarded, that is when they’ll strike. And as for their heirs, well, that’s not really a problem.”

Yoongi raised a brow. “Jung Hoseok’s wife is unable to bare a child, and he also doesn’t have any younger siblings to take over. So once he passes, rulership of his Kingdom immediately goes over to you. Same goes for my husband and Park Jimin.”

“I see,” Yoongi hums, biting inside of his cheek. “So what’s my job then?”

You smirk. “The only thing you have to do is have your succession speech ready, your Majesty.”

“But I have another problem,” Yoongi added. “Many people already disagree with our war with the South. How will we manage to persuade them that this is necessary? It’ll be difficult since three of the four leaders of the North are dead.”

“Trust me, your Majesty,” you spoke with such clarity and a smile on your face. “Everything is planned out and you don’t have to worry.”

Yoongi didn’t replay, eyes briefly glancing at the people that surrounded him. You must’ve noticed his still cautious state because next thing he knew you were signaling everybody out, telling them to “get some rest and prepare for your departure in the morning.”

“Why are you doing this exactly?” Yoongi asks the moment you two were alone in the room. “Because there is no damn way you’re doing this just for survival. I mean,” he suddenly chuckles, “you are giving complete control of the North. What is your angle here? Are you going to kill me after all this is so that you become Emperor?” Yoongi was starting to get frustrated. He has never had trouble understanding someone before until he met you. And now because of you, his mind was a complete mess.

“That’s not my intention at all, your Majesty,” smiling up at him, you placed your hand on his shoulder, smirking at the feeling of him tensing underneath your fingertips. “All I want is for the North, my home—your home to finally come out of its shadow that it has been forced to hide in for centuries.”

“And you think I’m the one that can do that?”

“Yes,” you nod, fingers dancing across his chest. “I’ve read records of previous Emperors and you’re the only that deserves that title. Unlike the other ones, you are resilient, intelligent, ruthless if necessary, and you even fight alongside your men which no other Emperor has done before.”

As each compliment came out of your mouth, Yoongi couldn’t help but feel himself starting to get hard underneath his lower robes, and you running your hands seductively over his chest definitely wasn’t helping.

“How should I repay you for your kindness then,” Yoongi found himself melting against your touch, his hands finding their way into your waist. “Because someone like you definitely deserves an reward for their loyalty.” Yoongi then turns you around in one quick motion, causing you to gasp at the sudden action and feeling his strong chest pressed up against your back and lips brushing against your ear.

A tiny moan escaped from your lips when feeling his hard length suddenly rub against your ass, you yourself starting to get hard as well. “Should I buy you plenty of jewelry, or maybe a large palace just for you?” Yoongi then pushed you up against the wall, smirking at the small gasp that came from you. “Or perhaps,” another moan came out of your mouth when one of his hands slipped underneath your robes and caressed the soft flesh of your behind, “make you wife?”

Yoongi chuckled when feeling shiver against him. “Yeah, you would like that, huh? Being my wife, an Empress, ruling right beside me?”

“Y-Yes, your Majesty,” you stuttered out, tilting your head back from the sensation, giving Yoongi the opportunity to lean down and leaving wet, tender kisses along your neck and bare shoulder, leaving dark bruises that’ll be near impossible to cover up tomorrow morning.

“Good,” Yoongi left another mark on your skin, dragging his finger across your ass, teasing your clenching hole with his fingertip. “Then how about we—secure our deal, then? And when you nodded, that was all Yoongi needed before turning you around to face him and crashing his lips down forcefully onto yours. The kiss was rough, yet tender and filled with lust. With your hands around his neck, Yoongi’s slid down to your thighs and hoisted you up into his arms, deepening the kiss with his lips moving in perfect sync against yours.

The kiss was like a drug that neither of you couldn’t get enough of.

“Please, your Majesty,” you whimpered against his lips, which made Yoongi want you even more than he already did. “Can you please h-hurry?”

Yoongi smirked against your lips, pulling away. “Don’t worry, my love, just be patient.”

It was quite ironic though, because Yoongi was everything but patient when it came to you. He couldn’t wait any longer. Instead of carrying you all the way to his chamber, he laid you on the closest flat surface which happened to be a table and tore your robes completely off of you, leaving you bare and them in ruins.

Yoongi decided to take his sweet time with you, dragging his lips across your ankles, up your legs to your meaty thighs. He then began to leave open mouth kisses over your abdomen and up your chest, teasing your nipples with his tongue and grazing the wet muscle over your collarbone. Yoongi continued his assault on your body until he reached back up your lips, capturing them this time into a soft, passionate kiss which you gladly returned without a second thought, hands sliding up to his shoulders and helping him strip from his own robes, revealing his pale and toned body.

Your mouth watered at the sight of him, eyeing his define muscles, the way his abs clenched as he climbed onto the table and hovered over you, and the way his biceps bulged as he held himself above you. “Y-Your Majesty—”

“Yoongi,” he cut you off, pulling away and moving his lips to your throat. “Call me, Yoongi, my love.”

“Y-Yoongi,” you tried out, heart warming in both of your chests once hearing his name come out of your mouth. It sounded right coming from you. “Please—”

“Don’t worry, my love,” Yoongi reassured you, moving his lips back up to yours. “I’m here, I’m here. Let me show you how it feels to be loved by a real man, yeah?”

The night was then soon filled with nothing but the sound your combined moans, skin slapping and the shared whispers of sweet words between one another.

This was the start of something new.

“T-Taehyung, faster, faster please!”

The sound of the woman’s moans and the bed’s headboard banging against the connecting wall to your room made your blood boil. Your hands clenched into fists and teeth biting angrily down onto your lips.

“Be patient, my love,” you could hear your husband say through the thin wall, making the rage that flowed through your veins grow more. “Let me cherish you, beautiful...”

“Your Highness,” the sound of a man’s voice tore you out of your thoughts, “I’ve done what you’ve asked me to do.”

“Everything’s prepared and ready?”

The guard nodded his head once you turned around, “yes, your Highness. The only people remaining in the palace are your loyal followers. Everyone else has been sent home.”

“Good,” only came out of your mouth before leaving your chambers with the guard following closely behind you. You walked over next door and didn’t bother knocking before barging right in, your husband and the girl instantly jumping to cover themselves with the thin bedsheets.

“What the fuck?!” Taehyung curses loudly, staring at you with wide eyes and wrapping his arms around the girl’s waist, pulling her close. “What are you doing here? I told already you that I’m staying here tonight.”

“I know,” you replied with not even a single ounce of emotion heard in your voice.

Taehyung’s eyes then shifted towards the guard that stood beside you. “What’s going on here?”

You didn’t say anything, only smiled, and that caused fear to form in the pit of Taehyung’s gut. With just the simple nod of your head, the guard walked over to the servant girl and snatched her by her hair, tearing her away from his grasp and yanking her off the bed and onto the ground.

“Stop—” Taehyung tried to reach for her but stopped when the guard pulled out a dagger and held the sharp blade against her neck, tears shining in her eyes. He then turned towards you, eyes glistening as well, “why are you doing this?”

“Change,” was all you said before nodding your head again, giving the guard the order to slide his blade across the girl’s throat, killing her instantly and letting her limp body collapse into the ground.

“N-No no,” Taehyung didn’t hesitate this time to jump out of the bed, despite being completely nude and taking her now lifeless body into his arms, blood staining the ground and his skin, and tears spilling uncontrollably from his eyes. “She was pregnant...”

“Oh well.”

Taehyung’s head shot up from your heartless comment, his teary eyes shining with a newfound rage. Before he had the chance to say anything the guard approached him from behind and wrapped his arms tightly around his neck. He immediately began clawing at his arms, trying to gasp for air that was becoming harder and harder to obtain, eyes bright red and nearly bulging out, tears slipping from them and sliding down his cheeks.

The last thing he saw before he took his last breath and eyes slowly closed was you standing in front of him with a sinister grin on your lips.

“Your Majesty.”

Yoongi glanced up from his book to see his personal advisor standing right in front of him by his library’s entrance. He hummed in reply, signaling for the young man to continue. We’ve gotten word from Lady Kim—” Yoongi glared at him, causing his advisor to pause and correct his words, “—I mean, ____’s agents that they have completed their duties.”

“They have?” Yoongi asked with a raised brow. He knew you were more than capable of doing this, but he thought something this major would take at least a week to accomplish. He didn’t expect to hear about any success a day later.

“Yes, your Majesty,” his advisor nodded. “The Jung palace is flames at this moment and there is word that Jung Hoseok himself and his wife were in their chambers when the fire happened. And as for Park Jimin, he was found murdered in his bed with a dagger in his chest. Some say it was one of his concubines that done it.”

“What about Kim Taehyung?” Yoongi found himself asking, his mind instantly thinking of you. “Was ___ successful?”

“Yes, your Majesty he was,” his advisor answered. “I was informed about Kim Taehyung’s death by ___ himself.”

Yoongi couldn’t stop the smile forming on his lips. “Good.”

“Would you like to start writing your succession speech now, your Majesty?”

“Yes,” Yoongi answered. “We’ll have the succession conference next week, and make sure every minor clan leader comes so that they know who is in charge now.”

“Yes, your Majesty,” his advisor nodded his head, and before leaving he turned back and said to him in a teasing tone, “oh, and someone is here to see you.”

Yoongi was about to ask him who it was, but he stopped himself when his eyes suddenly landed on you standing in his library’s entrance, his heart stopping in his chest at the sight of you. “H-Hey,” he stuttered out, cringing at the sound of himself. In all his years of living, nobody has ever had this type of power over him—but he wasn’t complaining either.

“Hello, your Majesty,” your reply sent tingles all over his body—and he loved it.

There was nothing but silence afterwards between you two because there wasn’t any need for words. The only thing you two needed to express the feelings you have for each other was your eyes—the passion, the lust, the want that shined in them.

This is just the beginning for you two.

would you guys like to see a drabble series of these two in the future maybe? emperor yoongi and his male wife.

TAGLIST:

@ben-c0c, @sombreboy, @theclawofsa, @joongtoons, @xavi-in-kpopland, @ephemeralkookie, @yoshiure, @illbeyournightmare, @sonderkook, @spaceisbigger, @catboygyu, @justqueerandhereforthetea, @xxminilah

#bonnyskies #bts #bts angst #bts one shot #bts x reader #bts x male reader #min yoongi #min yoongi angst #min yoongi one shot #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi x male reader #yoongi #yoongi angst #yoongi one shot #yoongi x reader #yoongi x male reader #bts imagines #min yoongi imagines #yoongi imagines

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reidyoulikeabook · 3 years

Note

48 from touch prompt list and 75 from prompt list 5 🥺🥺🥺 im so proud of you love such an amazing achievement i love you

-efirstly i love you thank you so much 🥺 secondly the PERFECT two prompts together you have a galaxy brain and i can truly not thank you enough for this!!

Ship: Fem! Reader x Spencer Reid

Word count: 1.4k

Warnings: Some mentions of alcohol consumption & brief olden-time being married young talk.

Prompts: #48 - Dancing with each other & #75 Talking in an Elizabethan style to woo somebody

A/N: I listened to the ‘So Close’ song from the Enchanted soundtrack the entire time I was writing this so...put that on if you want!

A reminder I’m taking prompts for my 1k celebration until May 21st! :)

If Penelope Garcia loved two things in this world - Derek and science fiction aside - it was costumes and parties. So it made sense that for her birthday, she’d decreed she’d be throwing an Elizabethan-style ball. And that everybody had to dress up accordingly. Derek, always eager to put a smile on her face, had offered to throw it at one of his houses.

So it was there that you were headed, on this glorious Saturday night. In a not-so-glorious and infact, quite heavy, Elizabethan era gown. It was a good job you’d elected to take an Uber, because quite frankly the dress weighed a ton. It would have been impossible to drive in.

Good job they didn’t have cars back in the Elizabethan era.

Not that women would have been allowed to drive them anyway.

You’re only a little late when you arrive. Fashionably late, you’d go so far as to say.

“____!” Penelope greets with a squeal, rushing out to embrace you into a hug. You don’t even make it all the way through the door before she’s on you with a flurry.

If you thought your dress was a lot, you have to hand it to the birthday girl. She could never be upstaged. How her gown actually fit inside the house was a mystery, it was huge - puffy with a corset that cinched her in tightly at the waist. Her hair was coiffed into perfect curls. She looked stunning; like she’d stepped right out of a painting.

“You look amazing!” You tell her, squeezing her tightly.

“So do you! I’m so glad you took the theme seriously!”

“I take all themes seriously when it’s you threatening me about them.”

She laughs. “Well Derek did too. And Spencer, the others...” She frowns, “Well, I’d like to say they tried, but Rossi definitely didn’t. He did, however, pay for a gazebo and a live band so I’m willing to let it slide.”

You smile, allowing her to take you inside. She babbles some more on her way in about all the decorations, food, and how next time she’s going to make everybody send her pictures of their outfits beforehand.

She’s right about the gazebo though - it’s beautiful. It has elegant fairylights adorning it, illuminating the place in a candescent glow. The live band is an instrumental one - there’s even a fiddle.

Where the hell did Dave find a fiddle?

He’s rich.

That has to be the satisfactory answer for now. There are far more pressing matters at hand: like everybody’s costumes.

Horch is wearing some fancy suit, Emily has one that’s similar, Rossi clearly is just dressed in his normal attire. J.J appears to have picked one up from a fancy dress shop, but if anyone could make that look good, it’s her. Derek looks an absolute dream - clearly dressed by Penelope. It’s Spencer though, unsurprisingly, who has gone all out. He has a miniature version of one of those puffy collars on, his suit a gorgeous maroon colour. He even has white tights on, with the boots that matched. If there were prizes for best costume - which knowing Penelope, there might well be - she’d be up against some fierce competition.

“Spence!” You chime, opening your arms to greet him, “I love your costume!”

“I love yours too!” He beams, hugging you tightly, “The skirt of your dress is very fitting to the period.”

“Thank you!” You say, reluctantly letting go of him to greet everybody else in turn.

It’s hard to keep your eyes off him though, and everybody knows it. You and Spencer had been dancing around each other for months, the epitome of the will-they-won’t-they, and you can’t help but hope that tonight you might finally cross that threshold.

It’s Penelope’s birthday.

Who are you kidding? Penelope would be ecstatic to claim credit.

***

You’re giddy, not just with the glass of wine in your system. With happiness, the exuberant kind that comes from watching all your friends exist among one another. It doesn’t hurt that Spencer barely leaves your side the entire night. He’s a veritable treasure trove of Elizabethan era facts. You’ve learnt more than any history class could possibly teach you.

A slow song comes on, which is when you decide to seize your opportunity.

Now or never.

You bump your shoulder against his. When you have his attention, you nod towards the dance floor, “Come and dance with me.”

He furrows his brows, clearly weighing up his options in his head.

You affect an Elizabethan lilt, “Thou art going to leave me alone at the ball, fair Lord Reid?”

“I could hardly dream of it,” He says, imitating you, “Would thou care to dance with me?”

He offers out his hand. You take it, noting how he gets the barest blush on his cheeks.

“Thou had me practically petrified, I thought you may never ask,” You tease, accepting his hand, squeezing it once for reassurance.

He laughs, nose crinkling. He rests his hand on your hip hesitantly, only solidifying his grip when you rest yours on his bicep. His other comes to rest on the other side, just above where your dress puffs out. The song playing sounds vaguely familiar, although it’s harder to place with it being an instrumental version.

You lean into him, side-stepping in time with him. He’s not a dancer by nature, that much is clear, but he is surprisingly good at leading.

It’s easy to let him guide you around the dance floor. You stutter a bit, almost tripping. His grip on your hip tightens.

“Be careful fair maiden,” He reprimands teasingly, “Thou wouldn’t want to fall.”

“Thou wouldn’t want to be seen with a maiden who has made a royal fool of herself.”

He shakes his head, “I could hardly bare it.”

“I do not know how you can bare to be seen with me regardless. I’m practically a haggard spinster,” You say, with a dramatic sigh.

He twirls you around, voice slipping back into his normal tone, “Actually it was mainly women from wealthy families who would marry young, from age 12. With poorer or middle class families it was most common for women to be in their mid-twenties by the time they got married, the average age was about 24.”

“Still younger than me,” You retort, stepping in time with him. You’re pressed up against his chest now.

His breath fans over your cheek, from the way he’s bent, from the way you’re leaning in to him. His big hand spans over your back, holding you close to him as he steps to the right.

“Well,” He says, affecting the English accent, “Thou art a lady of the highest stature. A commoner could not possibly hope to marry one such as yourself.”

You giggle, “Oh fair Lord Reid. Whenst will I possibly find a husband?”

With surprising ease, he dips you, allowing you to fall gracefully into his arms. He’s study, supportive. Before you know it, you’re back on your feet.

“Thou might be looking in the wrong places.”

“Pray tell, wherest would one suggest a lady like me ought to look?”

“Perhaps closer to ones home,” He says, English accent - if you could call it that - slipping a little, favouring sincerity.

“How much closer?”

His hands return to your waist, and yours to his chest. There’s only an inch between your bodies. He looks down at you with sincerity brimming in his eyes, “Perhaps a little closer.”

Your hand trails up to his chin. It dips at the mere weight of your thumb resting on it, “Gallant Lord Reid, perhaps this close?”

“Perhaps,” He swallows, voice morphing into the accent again, as if he’s afraid to be vulnerable, “Thou art a maiden, thou art to be courted before marriage.”

“And where would one court a fair maiden like me?”

“Where would the fair maiden like to go?”

“Wherever, as long as you’re the one taking her.”

He swallows. His eyes scan your face, watching how you deliberately look to his plump lips. He hesitates for only a moment longer, before leaning in and planting the most delicate kiss upon them.

If it wasn’t for the elated drunken giggles of everyone else around you, you’d have been lost in the bubble of a moment forever. It’s okay though, because at your wedding, Penelope is sure to tell the tale of the Elizabethan ball where you - the fair maiden - finally got together with your perfect Lord. You have to admit, it’s a good one.

Permanent Spencer tagslist: @ssa-m-187 @reidingmelodies @cyanide-mustard @shesalatesh @sapphic-prentiss @geostarr @kathrynisadogperson @rem-ariiana @spoonielivingfree @starsandshit90 @spencerreidat3am @takeyourleap-of-faith @sassiest-politician @calm-and-doctor @ssa-m-187 @averyhotchner @muffin-cup @purplewaterbottles082 @reidsnose @wheelsup @ellesgreenaway @sunlitspence @spencerreid9 @drspencerreidd @reiding-recs @bauemily @cmily @retrxbarnes @jhillio @txmhoelland @spenxerslut @im-autistic-not-stupid @amoeebaa @veridianluv @sad-bitch-h0ur @nighttimerain123 @ytj2304 @reidtome @converse-spence @randomfavtingswall @bethc54 @hubbybowenss @sebstan-is-the-man @justanothercrazyfangirl @eli-side-blog @vntgreid @reidmeastory @reidemandweep @ggublerss @s1lverhand @cigarette-day-dread @newtmyheart @i-understood-that-reference @willowrose99 @v-is-obsessive

(message me to be removed - visit my taglist form to join!)

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fluff #imagine spencer reid #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds #imagine criminal minds #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fic

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procrastinatingsapphictrash · 3 years

Text

Can’t get over her

Word count: 5010

Genre: A little angst with a little fluff

Pairing: Natasha x fem!reader

Warnings: Little bit of swearing (let me know if I need to add more)

Summary: Reader has always had a bit of a crush on Natasha but it’s unrequited. She lets Tony and Wanda take her to a club and Nat starts acting differently.

A/N: This is not a request, I just felt like writing this story. I’m super nervous about this because I’m not sure if it’s very good but I thought I would post it in case anyone is interested. This is my first x reader fic and first Natasha/Marvel fic so I wasn’t sure how to write it. That being said I hope you enjoy, and if you do, I’m always open to take requests! Btw this is completely unimportant but even though this fic is a medium length, it’s the longest story I’ve actually completed so I feel proud of myself for that!

“Y/n!” A voice rang out loudly disrupting your sleep.

“Ughhhh,” you groaned, “what do you want?” Instead of an answer the door to your room gets thrown open loudly, allowing all the light to come in. You bury yourself under the blankets, partly to stop your eyes from seeing the light and partly to hide the fact that you were wearing Avengers themed pyjamas.

“Rise and shine sweetheart!” You hear Tony’s voice mock. Reluctantly you poke your head out of the blankets just enough so you can see and squint at your best friend/mentor just in time to see him rush off, probably to wake up another unfortunate avenger. When you first joined you never expected to like Tony at all, much less consider him your best friend or look up to him. You had heard rumors of him being inappropriate with women and while his jokes most certainly were and you did occasionally catch him staring at your boobs he never did anything creepy to make you uncomfortable and inside he was a good man, way more so than you expected.

All that in mind you decide to get out of bed to see why Tony woke you up because he (probably) wouldn’t wake you up for no reason. Taking a minute to change out of the avenger pyjamas and into some clothes as well as brush your hair you wander downstairs. On the way down you bump into Clint who unlike you has made absolutely no effort to look presentable and looks like he just rolled out of bed. You say a quick hello but he just grunts in return, not even looking at you. Inwardly laughing about how much Clint hates to be awake in the morning you continue downstairs to meet up with the rest of the avengers who are varying degrees of awake. Most seemed to be like you; awake and fairly alert but not happy about it. Clint was probably the most asleep and Tony the most awake considering he was practically bouncing off the walls. Looking around you see everyone except for Thor and Natasha. Thor wasn’t there very often because he wasn’t from earth and Natasha usually avoided group activities at all costs to your displeasure since you had a secret (not very secret) crush on the assassin.

“So why did you wake us up, at an ungodly hour may I add, and bring us down here?” You ask Tony, curious.

“That information is above your clearance level.” He replies somewhat sarcastically.

“Does anybody else know what is going on?” you ask. “Or did Tony wake me up for no reason, in which case I’m going back to bed.” They all shift guiltily on their feet except for Clint who seems to be still too tired to pay attention leading you to believe they are all up to something you wouldn’t like. Nobody answers your question so you glare around the room, your eyes landing on Steve. He almost squirms under your gaze and eventually seems to give in.

“I’m sorry Y/N, this wasn’t my idea and thinking back on it we probably shouldn’t-”

“We are giving you a makeover and finding you a date.” Tony cuts Steve off.

“Seriously??!??!??” You half shout. “What makes you think I want to go on some random date you guys set up? If I want to go on a date I can find one myself.”

“Y/N…” Wanda says softly, reminding you to stay calm.

“Don’t Y/n me,” you say, still angrily yet quieter, “I can find my own dates, thank you very much.” Tony gives a small snort of laughter in response to this.

“Sure you can kid. I mean it’s not like you haven’t been on a date in over two years. Or that you’re harboring a crush for our resident scary assassin that prevents you from dating others.” You glare at him but stay silent because all of what he said is true. In your head you excuse the not dating off as being busy because you are a hero yet almost everybody on the team is dating someone and it all seems to be working out fine.

“Look Y/n,” Tony says softly which is a rarity for him, “I know you wish something could happen between you and Romanoff but it hasn’t happened yet and likely never will. You need to get over her and back out there. Besides we weren’t planning on choosing your date for you, we were just planning to go clubbing later with you.”

“Ok,” you agree begrudgingly, “I’ll do it, I just don’t see the need to wake me up at 7 in the morning if we aren’t going out until tonight. Also does everybody need to be here right now?”

“I second that,” Clint says in a voice still rough from sleep, “just because I helped planning a little bit does not mean I had to wake up early to have this conversation. I’m going back to bed.”

Wanda rolls her eyes at him before turning to you, “No not everyone has to be here right now, Tony just got a little over excited. As for you, as we said we are giving you a makeover which means we have to go to the hair appointment I set up plus I was thinking we could go shopping since we almost never have time to. Besides Natasha gets back from her solo mission sometime later today, so we wanted to talk with you when she wasn’t around.”

“Ok,” you respond with a little bit of excitement, “when do we leave?”

“Right now! We can have brunch while we’re out!”

“Yes and then we can go get our nails done and gossip!” Tony says in a fake voice. Both you and Wanda turn to look at him exasperated. “Ok fine, maybe not but I am coming and we are gossiping. Also I need to find a good birthday present for Pepper’s birthday next week.”

“Well that’s good you’re coming because unless you want the same reaction as last year, you’re going to need a lot of help.” Wanda replies. You laugh a little as the three of you leave the tower, Wanda and Tony continuing their mock argument about Tony’s gift giving skills.

Five hours later and you severely regretted going along with their plan. You were already exhausted and still had so much to do before going clubbing. You had already bought an outfit plus a few others which wouldn’t be so bad except Wanda and Tony made you try on what you believed to be the whole store before they seemed satisfied with your look. You had also gotten your nails done and were currently finishing up a lovely brunch which consisted of waffles, maple syrup and some fruits. That would have been enjoyable if not for the fact that Tony and Wanda alternated between nagging you about not chipping a nail and teasing you about your pathetic love life. It was a well known fact in the tower that while they didn’t hate each other, Tony and Wanda didn’t usually get along well but that was probably for the best since together they were ruthless. They seemed to have decided that the time for brunch was over so sighing you followed them out of the restaurant after Tony paid the bill. That’s the one positive at least, all of it was free for you thanks to Tony.

Another five hours later and you could honestly say you were looking forward to the night more than you thought you would. You were currently looking in the mirror in your room and although usually you tended to be indifferent towards your body, sometimes even insecure, you had to admit that you looked pretty hot. The dress was in the perfect colour to bring out your eyes according to Wanda and although it was the perfect balance between classy and slutty, revealing a bit of skin and showing off your assets while still leaving it to the imagination. You also were carrying a black purse which matched your nails and shoes. Your makeup was perfectly done, naturally showing you beauty but adding a little extra glimmer. The thing you were most proud of however and the most noticeable change you had made was your hair. Before you had hair that when completely straight could reach your waist but now it was barely long enough to tuck behind your ears. When you first got to the hair salon you were planning on just trimming it and straightening in it but when you got in the chair something came over you and you just decided to chop it all off.

BANG! The door to your room barges open and Wanda comes flying in.

“Damn girl! You look hot as fuck!” You blush profusely at her words managing to stammer out a thank you. You have never been good at taking compliments because you always get a little shy and awkward.

Tony pokes his head around the doorframe and gives a whistle. “You are smoking hot Y/n, I mean if I didn’t have Pepper I would be all over you. You ready to go?” Not waiting for an answer he turns and starts towards the elevator. You follow but not before exchanging an eye roll with Wanda about Tony’s words. The elevator ride is short and smooth thanks to Tony’s engineering so you don’t have enough time to succumb to the urge of placing your hands on the bars and pushing while lifting your feet. The elevator beeps, Jarvis informing you that you’ve reached the ground level and the doors open. You step out ready to get on with your night but the sight of Natasha just back from a mission freezes you in your tracks.

“Hi,” you say lamely, “I thought you were supposed to get back earlier today?”

“We had some intel that wasn’t fully correct but luckily it didn’t take too long to fix. You look different, where are you heading off to?”

You glance at Tony and Wanda for help because for some reason you feel awkward telling her but they don’t seem to know what you want so you answer anyways. “We’re going clubbing, I’m kinda nervous since I haven’t been in awhile but Wanda helped me get ready-”

“Hey I helped too!”

You ignore Tony’s protest and continue to speak. “-and I think it should be fun. Also there will for sure be hot girls there which is always a plus.”

“Seems like it should be fun,” she responds in her monotone ‘I don’t care’ voice that you hate, “Good luck with the girls though, because your hair looked better long, I don’t like it like this.” You don’t usually get offended easily but you feel tears spring to your eyes at her comment. The only good part is that she doesn’t notice because she’s already walking away, swaying her hips, either not knowing or caring that she hurt you.

Tony and Wanda rush over to you. “Oh sweetie,” Wanda comforts while wrapping an arm around you, “don’t listen to her, that’s not true at all!”

“Then why would she say it?” You ask, careful to keep your voice from cracking because you hated showing when you were upset.

“I don’t know and honestly I don’t give a fuck.” Tony replies. “Just don’t think about it too much, the whole point of this night is to get over her anyways.” You give him a small smile at that. Tony is good with words which translates into being good at comforting people. You know he’s right so although the comment is still upsetting you do your best to push it out of your mind. Locking arms with both Tony and Wanda you pull them towards the door and into the waiting limo. You couldn’t help but smile at the way Tony ruffled your hair as you stepped in or how Wanda kept running her fingers over her arm in an attempt to be reassuring. You had the best friends.

The ride over seemed way shorter than it was supposed to be and before you knew it the limo was stopped to let the three of you out. You take a deep breath and wipe your sweaty palms on your dress before smiling and stepping out after Tony and Wanda. Nobody seems to have noticed the three of you yet which was a good thing. Being Avengers Tony and Wanda were pretty much celebrities and often got swarmed by groups of fans. Technically you were an avenger as well but like Natasha and Clint it was only because you were a Shield so while you did get recognized it wasn’t as often and only tended to happen if you were with other avengers. You make your way inside, splitting from Tony and Wanda at the door. The plan was for them to go to the bar and look over you from there while you went straight to the dance floor because you preferred to be anonymous tonight and they would ruin that and also you didn’t feel like getting drunk. That was the plan at least but you suspected that they would get too drunk to continue watching over you because it had been stressful lately with a lot of paperwork and they needed to unwind. Wanda had practically confirmed that fact when she gave you permission to leave without them.

You step over to the dance floor glancing around to see if there looked to be any single women already there. The reason you had chosen this club was because although it wasn’t lgbtq+ exclusive, it was open to everybody and therefore frequented by many members of the community.

Just as you were glancing around you felt a tap on your shoulder. “Wanna dance?” You spin around to find the most beautiful girl you’ve ever seen, apart from Natasha. It bothers you that you’re using Natasha as your standard and comparing other girls to her but you brush that off.

“I would love to!” At your response she takes your hand, pulling you into the crowd and starts to dance. You dance as well and slowly you lose track of time as you loosen up and your dancing with the girl becomes less and less innocent. You can feel yourself caring less about what Natasha thought although as great as this girl seemed to be you knew you weren’t ready for a relationship so you hoped she wasn’t looking for one. After what could be a couple of hours because you’ve completely lost track of time, you and the girl whose name you still don’t know head over to a corner of the room and take a seat on two of the stools that were provided.

“Hi, I feel like I should know your name by now, I’m Y/n.” You introduce yourself.

“Wait I thought you looked familiar!” She exclaims. “You’re the Y/n that’s a part of the avengers right?”

You awkwardly give a nod and gesture towards the bar where you can see Tony and Wanda who have obviously had at least a few drinks each. “Tony and Wanda came with me. They are just over there but I didn’t particularly want the spotlight tonight so I split from them at the door.”

“I understand, I must admit I have no desire to be famous. I’m Jamie by the way” She says with a cute little giggle before her mood seems to be more solemn. “I can’t believe I’m saying this to a literal avenger and if my friends find out they are going to kill me but I’m sorry if you’re looking for a relationship but I just got out of a serious relationship and am not ready for another one quite yet.”

You let out a relieved sigh. “I’m not looking for a relationship either, because I’m trying to get over my feelings for a friend.”

“Phew!” She replies. “But tell me more about this ‘friend’ of yours.” You take a minute to think before deciding that Jamie could be trusted. You begin to spill all about your feelings for Natasha and how she didn’t seem interested and what she said to you on your way here. Jamie listens sympathetically the entire time before telling you all about how she thought her ex was the one but it turns out she was emotionally abusive. Even though you just met you talk like old friends, offering advice on serious topics but also chatting about random things. You have 3 more drinks each and after every drink your barriers crumble more and more. Eventually you exchange numbers so you can meet up again although you both agreed it would be a platonic meetup. Just as you were giggling about a joke you couldn’t even remember, you saw Jamie tense up and a second later you felt a hand on your shoulder. You turn your head in anger expecting it to be some creepy guy trying to hit on you but it turns to confusion when you see Natasha.

“Can we talk?” She asks, giving Jamie a dirty look. “At the tower. Without her.”

“Why?” You ask. “I’m having fun here Nat.” You specifically say her name as you speak so Jamie knows who you’re talking to.

“Just come home.” She says not answering your question, instead tugging at your wrist lightly. You sigh not knowing what to do so you glance at Jamie for help.

She shrugs and then says, “I have a ride home planned if you want to leave, but I wouldn’t mind staying longer if that’s what you want.”

You make a quick decision in your head before responding, “Ok, we’ll go back to the tower but there better be a good reason.” You then turn to Jamie, “Text me when you get home so I know you’re safe, and then we can figure out when to hang out.”

“Of course,” she agrees leaning forwards to hug you while whispering in your ear, “good luck but remember not to let her treat you badly just because you’re in love with her.” You pull back from the hug and smile at her as Natasha’s hand moves down to your own as she starts walking, pulling you along with her. You can barely think straight, you have no idea what is going on with Natasha or why she’s acting so weirdly. You glance over to Tony and Wanda to see if they’ve noticed what’s going on but just as you suspected they were drunk out of their minds. If they were normal friends you would have worried about them but you knew Tony’s drivers would get them home safe because although Tony was more responsible with Pepper around this was not the first time they’ve had to haul his drunk ass back to the tower.

Natasha continues to pull you out the door and over to her parked motorcycle where she hands you a helmet and one of her leather jackets. Still not speaking she hops on and motions for you to get on behind her. You swing your leg over the side somewhat awkwardly and scoot forwards so you can grab onto her waist. Once she’s sure you’re secured properly she hits the gas, the motorcycle roaring as it starts. You’ve never been on her motorcycle before so at first you are a bit nervous but after a couple of minutes you start to feel more comfortable. At this point your only nerves come from holding Natasha and wondering what she wants to talk to you about and not the motorcycle ride. Compared to the ride over to the club, this ride feels like it’s taking forever as you start to go over all the important reasons Nat would want to talk to you. You still didn’t know how to feel about everything because she insulted you earlier and now is making you feel important. To protect your feelings you tell yourself that there is probably a mission or a meeting that came up last minute and this isn’t just Natasha wanting to talk. It’s improbable because if that was the case she would have outright said so but you can’t think of any more plausible reasons off the top of your head. Luckily before you can analyze her strange behavior anymore you reach the tower and after parking underground you follow Natasha upstairs into the main living area which is obviously deserted as it is now between 3 and 4 am.

“So why did you want to talk?” You ask, breaking the silence as you take a seat on the couch.

“Why did you go to a club?” She asks, also sitting down on the other end of the couch, avoiding your question.

A surge of anger floods through you and while you don’t shout, you raise your voice a little. “Answer the fucking question Nat. Or did you bring me all the way back just to ask that?”

She looks somewhat surprised that you raised your voice but she keeps hers even. “I just wanted to know. It looked like you were having fun with whoever that girl is.”

“Yeah I was.” You respond, still confused. “But how do you know that?”

Natasha avoids eye contact looking everywhere but you. “I was watching you.”

“YOU WERE WHAT?” You shout before lowering your voice to avoid waking up the whole tower. “Why the fuck were you spying on me?”

“I- I wasn’t.” She replies seemingly caught off guard by your tone of voice. “I wanted to make sure you were safe.”

“Tony and Wanda were with me.” You respond confused. There’s something she’s not telling you that’s making her act weird. She knew you could handle yourself so she obviously was not telling the truth, or at least omitting details. She hasn’t responded to your last statement, instead choosing to look at you in the weird way she does that makes you feel like you’re being interrogated. You decide that if she isn’t going to talk, you won’t either so you pull your phone out of your jacket to check it. You see a text from Jamie saying she got home ok with a little smiley face at the end that causes you to smile. You type back a quick reply, just saying you’re glad she’s safe and that you were with Natasha right now and were probably going to bed soon so you’d text her tomorrow. She wished you luck and goodnight with another little smiley face that made you smile again. Putting your phone away you look back up at Natasha only to find out she’s glaring at you.

Unsure of what could have changed her attitude towards you, you ask, “What?”

“Who were you talking to?” She asks ignoring your question for the second time tonight.

You sigh, “I don’t see how it’s any of your business but if you really must know I was just saying goodnight to the girl from the club, Jamie.”

“So that’s her name.” She says wrinkling her nose. Now you’re really confused as to what Natasha is thinking. You couldn’t tell on normal days but usually she acted rationally and never was like this.

“Why do you say it like that?” You ask.

“I don’t like her.”

“Why don’t you like her?”

“I just don’t.” She answers, offering no explanation. Although you do want to find out why Natasha doesn’t like her you’re too tired to spend the time asking questions so you stand up to go to bed.

“Where are you going?” She demands.

You sigh for what feels like the thousandth time of the night. “I’m going to bed. You wanted to talk to me but won’t actually talk, and when I ask you questions, instead of responding you insult my new friend.”

“Friend?” She questions.

“Jamie.” You say confused because you thought the answer was obvious.

“Oh.” She responds, “I’m sorry, please stay.” You think about it for a second, deciding to stay so you go to sit down again, but before you do Natasha scoots over to your end of the couch pulling you down into her side. Your entire body freezes up because you’re so unsure of what to do. Natasha never initiated physical contact of any kind but now she was practically hugging you. Seeming to realize how uncomfortable you were, she quickly moves away.

“Sorry,” she mutters, “That was stupid.”

“No, no, it’s fine, you can come back.” You respond quickly. As much as you were uncomfortable, it felt really nice to have her by your side. She somewhat shyly shifts back over to you but this time instead of wrapping her arm around your shoulders she nuzzles into your side, maneuvering your arms so they wrap around her. You have no idea what’s going on right now but you can’t help but smile as you look down at her. She looks cute and relaxed, with her hair covering parts of her face. Thinking about her hair reminds you of her opinion of your new haircut. You bite your lip nervously as you debate asking her about that or not. You definitely don’t want to ruin the cuddly mood that she’s in now but the comment still bothers you, not to mention you never actually found out why she took you home from the club.

“Um Natasha?” You ask in a timid voice. “Is my haircut really that bad?”

“Of course not, I think it suits you.” She responds smoothly. “I lied to you earlier.”

You smile at that. “Thank you but why?”

She takes a deep shaky breath before speaking. “Promise this won’t change anything between us first, that we will stay friends.”

“Ok,” You respond, earnest but confused, “I promise.”

“I didn’t like the idea of you going clubbing and coming home with some one night stand or even worse a girlfriend because I have feelings for you. So I was childish and took out my frustrations on you by pretending I didn’t like you. I’m sorry.” She’s looking up at you now, the most nervous you’ve ever seen her. Your mind is exploding with this new information and your heart feels so happy you can’t even believe what is going on.

“Is that why you were watching me with Jamie at the club and then told me you had to talk to me?”

“Yeah”

After a few more seconds of shocked silence that feels like hours to Natasha you finally speak. “I know I promised that this wouldn’t change anything between us but I don’t think it can be the same.” She starts to pull away from your side but before she can you lean over and press your lips against hers. At first you are hesitant but once she starts kissing back you gain confidence, the kiss getting more heated. After a minute or two you both pull away to catch your breath, smiling at each other.

Natasha lightly swats you on the arm. “You’re evil.” You giggle a little in response. “I was so worried for a second there, I thought you would be weirded out by that.” She continues also giggling slightly.

“I’m surprised you didn’t know that I had feelings for you,” you confess to her, “it was actually Tony and Wanda’s idea for me to go out because we all thought you didn’t like me so they thought it was a good idea to get over you.”

“Well that plan failed,” she says smirking, “I guess you can’t get over me.”

You look at her and yawn. “No I guess I can’t.”

At your yawn she glances at the clock. “We better get you to bed, it’s almost the time Steve wakes up for training.” You would like to spend more time with Natasha but you’re too tired to argue so you just nod and follow her as she pulls you up and leads you to your room, holding your hand the whole way. Inside your room she sits on your bed while you change, politely looking away. Once you’re in pyjamas you hold a pair out to her and she looks at you confused.

“Do you want to stay the night?” You ask her. She eagerly nods, accepting the pyjamas as you open your covers and crawl into bed. As soon as she’s done she turns off the lights and hops in behind you, spooning you. You sigh as you feel her plant a kiss on the back of your head. You can barely keep your eyes open and although you still haven’t talked about exactly what your new relationship with Natasha was yet, you were excited for what was to come. Your last thought before you drifted off to sleep was complete bliss as Natasha kept planting soft kisses on the back of your neck, head and shoulders.

The next morning you hear a loud pounding at your door. You groan and slowly gain consciousness, smiling as you remember last night and the redhead still cuddling you. Just like yesterday Tony doesn’t bother to wait for you to answer and instead barges straight in. His eyes widen when he sees the two of you spooning and he starts to splutter. You laugh at him with Natasha until he shouts for the other avengers to come. Multiple pairs of footsteps make your way to your bedroom and you see the shocked faces of a few of the other avengers, including Wanda, Steve and Clint.

“What,” Natasha says speaking up, “can’t a girl cuddle with her girlfriend in peace?” Steve immediately apologizes, ushering everyone out of the room and closing the door.

You raise your eyebrow. “Girlfriends?”

“I assumed so, if you want.” She responds.

“I like the sound of that...girlfriend.” You both smile at each other. You definitely did not complete your goal of getting over Natasha and instead fell further in love but you were totally ok with that.

#marvel #natasha #romanoff #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #x reader #fanfiction #fic #marvel fanfiction #tony stark #wanda maximoff #clint barton #orignial character

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maddieinwonder · 3 years

Text

The Eighth

Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: None, this is a fluff-only zone!

Word Count: 2.3k

Plot: Reader has been in the BAU for one year and a lot has changed, especially her relationship with a certain genius. (Part 1 here!)

Author's Note: Seriously, I wasn't expecting my first two fics to blow up like that. Just, thank you to everyone who read them ♡♡♡

As for this one... I had to write a Part 2, basically as an excuse for me to write good things about everybody in the BAU and go wild with the backstories hahaha I hope you enjoy!

Masterlist

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Under the dim lighting of the BAU jet, your pen paused on the small book beneath it, causing a small blotch of ink to seep through its pages. The words usually flowed out of you without inhibition, but today was different, and frankly, you were feeling a little overwhelmed.

You didn't think the team would remember this, but today marked exactly one year since you joined the BAU. As if the universe were smiling down on you, the week also turned out to be a great one - or at least, as good as it could get around here.

The team had just closed a challenging case with minimal casualties, everyone had been ordered to have a long weekend off, and the person you most wanted to spend it with was dozing off beside you without a care in the world. Of course, he didn’t know about your feelings... yet.

Closing your journal, you gave up on writing as your eyes wandered restlessly toward your sleeping teammates.

Your eyes crinkled into a smile when your gaze landed on Hotch. This was the first time you’d seen him actually asleep on the jet, and in your opinion, he deserved whatever rest he could get. Since you joined the team, you had seen the man endure countless late nights in the office. Something you had quickly attributed to the missing wedding ring on his finger.

Yet, he remained a stalwart to the team. He constantly checked in with everybody, shielded the team from messy politics, and even managed to crack the occasional joke. Of course, he was still stoic most of the time, and you weren’t exactly sure if he was capable of blinking, but now you knew the warmth and care he possessed too.

Then there was Rossi, who had defied all your initial expectations. You had thought a celebrity like him to be gracious, maybe a little egoistic, but he was straight forward and meticulous to a fault. Still, it seemed he couldn't escape his nature as a performer, as he shone the brightest in the interrogation room.

The day you first witnessed him in action, your jaw had dropped to the floor, and he never stopped bringing it up in jest. He always joked that he didn't know whether you or the unsub was more shocked, but after that day, he also took the time to mentor you in the craft. You liked to think he was proud of how quickly you were able to put it into practice.

Your eyes wandered to Emily, sleeping soundly in the next seat. With Penelope and JJ’s busy schedules, she had taken on the role of showing you the ropes, and you had become fast friends. Turns out, the both of you were eerily similar: competitive, quick thinkers who never backed down from a challenge.

Unfortunately this meant you were never paired together on cases, but you did have an ongoing chess tournament slash drinking game. The chess was your idea, the drinking was Emily’s, and you were currently winning, much to your obvious pride and the rest of the team's amusement.

The person you actually got paired with the most was Derek; effectively fulfilling the fantasies of many women you knew. But as it turned out, the two of you made a damn good team. His calculated disposition combined with your breadth of knowledge - only rivalled by the good doctor - made you an extremely effective duo, and Hotch picked up on it immediately.

You being younger than him by a few years, Derek made it a point to check in with you often, and in turn, allowing you to glimpse at his pensive, empathetic, and insightful sides. He had become a big brother to you, and you like a sister. A bond that proved to be a strong one, across the many cases you tackled together.

You smiled to yourself, eyes landing on Penelope and JJ, dozing off together under a bright pink, knitted blanket whose ownership was in no doubt. It was rare that the tech analyst came along on cases, but she was always a welcomed presence for everybody involved.

Amidst the sea of gruesome cases sent to the BAU, you had come to look forward to Penny's witty banter, either over the phone or in person. The image of her colourful outfits and her outrageously decorated office were enough to make you believe in a light at the end of any tunnel.

It reminded you of your first case, an extraordinarily challenging one that the team managed to unravel in the nick of time. When you arrived back at the BAU, Penelope was the one to drag you out to celebrate. Little did you know, the rest of the team had also gathered at the bar with party poppers and birthday cake. When you found out that Penny had planned everything, you knew you had earned a friend for life.

As you smiled at the memory, JJ shuffled in her sleep and your attention was drawn to her sleeping figure. You didn’t know how she could look so perfect even when she was asleep. But then again, you’d come to realise that there was very little she couldn’t do.

You had already been friends with the communications liaison, but working with her in the BAU was a completely different beast. Of all the chaotic personalities in the BAU, only JJ had a hold over every single one. She was able to apply the same to the local police and media, and still meet the victim's families with the utmost grace and empathy.

During her brief window of absence when Henry was born, things just weren't the same. You liked Jordan, and you knew she always gave her best, but there was an unmistakable sigh of relief when JJ was back. And although she never asked for it, you and Penelope did everything you could to give her and Will a break from their newborn, including regular movie nights in with baby Henry.

Last but not least, the one that you couldn't forget even if you tried, Dr. Spencer Reid. You had joined the BAU because of him, you realised now. But what began as professional interest, had quickly developed into a full blown crush on your co-worker.

You realised this fact on an absolutely unremarkable day, except for the fact that your heart skipped a beat when Spencer walked into the office that morning. He wasn't wearing anything out of the ordinary, his usual combination of sweater vest and shirt, but when he smiled at you, your face flushed visibly and you wanted to melt into your chair in embarrassment.

If the genius had noticed it, he didn't let it show. But Derek most certainly did. Every chance he got that day, he teased you about your newfound crush on "pretty boy", and soon the news made it to everyone's ears. Emily not in the least, as she used the knowledge to win several chess games, much to your annoyance.

And still, Spencer remained oblivious. Despite how often you sat starry eyed listening to him explain a completely random fact. Despite how many weekends you spent together bonding over your shared interests in Star Trek and Doctor Who. Despite the fact that the seat next to him on the plane was basically reserved for you. You didn't think he knew, because he never made a move.

That's why you decided last week. The next time the team had a long weekend off, you would ask Spencer out on a date. You just didn't think it would happen so soon.

Midway through your thought, Spencer groaned in the seat next to you. His hands lifted to move his hair away from his face, and you resisted the urge to do it for him.

"Are we there yet?" He asked, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

You felt your heartbeat quicken at his voice, gravelly and soft, not fully back to reality just yet.

"No, not yet," you answered back in a whisper. "It's only 3AM. We have about two hours to go."

"Why aren't you asleep?" He asked. His head leaned back onto the headrest, but this time, his face turned towards yours. The two of you were far too close to each other for this to be work appropriate.

"Just thinking." You tapped the cover of your book with your pen in explanation, trying to look anywhere but at him. Spencer hummed in acknowledgement, the sound driving you wild. Then he did something you could have never expected.

"Hey," he began, pulling your gaze to meet his hazel eyes, "happy one year at the BAU." His lips formed a small smile, sleepy but genuine.

"You remembered?" You couldn't fight the wide smile that made its way onto your face, nor the glee that spilled out of your voice.

"Of course. Eidetic memory, remember?" He joked, gesturing at his head. Maybe it was the lack of sleep talking, but you felt like you were on the verge of tears.

"Thank you. Really."

"Hey, hey, hey, don't cry." Spencer said, suddenly sitting upright. He leaned forward as if to touch your cheek, but his fingers lingered in the air in between you awkwardly.

You brought your own fingers to your face, realising that you were, in fact, crying. A small laugh escaped your lips at the absurdity of it all.

"No, no, I'm alright, Spencer. Just overwhelmed, I suppose." You tried explaining, gently wiping the tears from your face.

"Why?" He asked, his voice laced with concern.

“I didn’t expect anyone to remember it, that’s all.” You said, feeling a little ashamed now, but your words seemed to light a fire in the doctor’s eyes.

“Well, whoever forgot it must be stupid because you’ve made a difference in the lives of every single person on this jet.” He said in an uncharacteristic huff.

This was your chance, you realised.

“Hey, Spencer,” you said after a pause, biting your lip nervously, “what difference did I make in your life?”

Spencer looked as if he had been caught, his eyes instantly darted to the seat behind you, his fingers twitching. You tightened your grip on your pen, willing yourself not to collapse from the anticipation.

“Of course, I-I mean, many things can’t be quantified due to its subjective nature, but you did change my life."

"Like?" You pressed on.

"You gave me something to look forward to everyday." He said, his eyes lifting to meet yours. You felt your heart soar a hundred stories above the ground.

"Really?" You were in disbelief, your voice barely a whisper.

"Really. You're... you're intelligent, beautiful, and you open my mind to new things every day. I feel like you understand me in ways the rest can't, and you’re the person I want to tell everything to. There’s nobody else but you.” He blurted out in a single breath, as if he'd lose the words if he waited any longer.

Your eyes threatened to spill tears again, but you blinked them back, preparing to say what you wanted to say to him long ago.

"Spencer... I like you. Like, romantically like you." You whispered, your eyes barely able to meet his. His eyes were wide open, his eyes glancing briefly at your lips.

And in a moment of pure bravery, as he explained later, he placed his hand over yours and squeezed. "Me too. I like you, romantically."

Long after that, he would tell you that he'd never seen you smile so widely before, and he instantly knew that he wanted to be the reason you smiled that way all the time. But in the moment, he just laced his fingers with yours.

You squeezed his hand back. Feeling calmed by his warm touch, you leaned closer to him. You still had one question on your mind.

"Did you know that I liked you?"

"I figured it out eventually. Last month." He said sheepishly. "But I've had feelings for you since a month after you joined the team." His cheeks turned a light pink at the confession.

"You know what? Me too." You blushed, leaning against his shoulder.

“Another thing we have in common now,” he said, resting his head on yours.

You weren’t willing to let him go now that you had him, and luckily, it seemed like he had the same idea, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and pulling you close.

The two of you fell into slumber easily, not even realising it when the jet had landed back in Virginia.

It didn't take long for the rest of the team to realise the interesting sight in front of them, but not even Penelope's high-pitched squeal managed to wake you up.

In the end, it was JJ who decided to end your unknowing humiliation by shaking the two of you gently. You and Spencer jolted awake, immediately taking in the various smirks and grins from your team in front of you.

"Ok, that's enough guys." Hotch announced. You noticed the small smile on his face before he turned around to leave the jet.

The team - mostly Emily and Penelope - looked as if they wanted to enjoy the sight for a little longer, but at Hotch's word, decided they would leave the teasing till later.

"That's not exactly how I imagined telling the team," Spencer said, when the two of you were finally alone. He ran his fingers through his hair in an action of mild distress, but you noticed the smile that was still glued to his face.

You leaned over to give him a kiss on the cheek, enjoying the blush it left behind. "Well, that means less time with them, and more time with you," you teased.

Spencer picked up his bag and offered his hand to you. "I'm counting on it," he said, smiling widely.

You took his hand, your gaze trailing up his wrinkled shirt to his messy brown hair, finally landing on his earnest eyes. Of all the times in the past year you got to be the BAU's Eighth. This moment had got to be the best.

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iamdeku · 3 years

Text

Positions: Prohero!Deku x Reader

I’ve been working on this little drabble for a while, haha. I just wanted to write something really cute and domestic. I hope you guys like this!

Warnings: nudity (non-sexual), mentions of kids/pregnancy

Dating a pro-hero could be taxing, to say the least. That was what everyone had told you when you and Izuku had first gotten together. They had warned you of the unpredictable hours, the nightmares, the trauma. They had said he would be physically unavailable at best, emotionally unavailable at worst. You had ignored all of that, though, and every day you were glad you did.

Dating Izuku had never been anything but a joy, a privilege even. He was one of the kindest souls you had ever met. His work only seemed to strengthen that side of him, accenting his willingness to help others, always with a smile on his face. He never made you feel second best to anything or anyone. In fact, you often felt like he did more for you than you did for him, which was what brought you here.

You’re pulling out all the stops tonight, spinning around your kitchen in your pretty pink over the knee socks that always made you glide across the floor, one of Izuku’s baby blue hoodies tossed over your head and falling far enough to be a dress, negating any need for pants. You had chicken katsu going on the stove, and you were making some tea to go with it. In the other room, you had made the bed with freshly washed sheets, still a little warm from the dryer, and an array of bath salts and bubble baths set up for selection.

Your entire body tenses when you hear the jangle of the keys in the lock, rising up onto your tiptoes in your excitement. You slip at least twice as you dash for the door and the man on his way through it, and you should have bit the dust once except for the arms wrapping around you now.

“Baby, you’re slipping all over the place. You know you can’t run in these.” His laughter hits your ear warm and sweet, body close from the way he’s holding you up. “What’s got you in such a hurry? We have all night.”

You pull back to look at him, smile spreading across your face. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.”

You hold his face between your hands, used to how fragile they looked compared to his broad strength. You brush your thumb across his cheekbone, where a bruise is painted, red at the center but blossoming out to a deep purple, nearly black. You lean forward and press a gentle kiss to it.

“You work too hard.” You sigh, letting your eyes close and lashes flutter over his stained skin. “Do you want dinner or a bath first?”

“Whatever you want.” The answer is immediate, instinctive.

You had seen this coming. You had prepared for it, in fact.

“Nope. Tonight is about you. That’s what I want, and I’m not letting you argue with me. C’mon, we should get you changed out of your costume.”

He lets you drag him back to the bedroom, hands laced together with his. Slowly, you peel him out of his hero costume, the movements routine and your hands gentle as you unveil new bruises. Most of the blood and gunk on him seems to be from other people, hopefully the villains, but you don’t ask. He’ll tell you if he wants to, and he does when he sees the way you pause on a patch of his uniform stuck to his skin from dried blood.

“It was a good night,” he reassures you. “We got them, and everybody is okay.”

“Good.” You nod. “You hungry?”

He smiles down at you. You’ve gently pushed him back onto the bed now that you’ve gotten the top half of his suit off, your navy blue sheets contrasting the green of his hair as he lays back to stretch while you finish undressing him.

“Yeah. It smells good. Chicken katsu?” He leans forward, resting his cheek in his palm.

“Yeah.” You pull his boots off his feet, then shuck of the rest of the costume.

You stand up, knees flushed from the coldness of the hardwood floor, already reaching for his favorite pair of sweats and an old, soft All Might shirt. You let him dress himself as you take his costume to the laundry room, although the damage done to it is likely beyond you. Straight to support team, then.

When you turn to leave the room, his body is stretched across the doorframe, filling it up. You take a moment to let yourself be breathless at the sight of him. It’s not that you forget how beautiful he is, but more that nothing could possibly prepare you for the sight of him, especially not just casually out of nowhere like this.

“Dinner?” He asks.

“Thought you might want that before a bath.”

That was a lie. You knew he would want dinner before a bath when you heard his stomach growl about 5 minutes after he walked in the door. Not that he would admit to that, silly boy.

You move to walk past him into the kitchen, but he catches you around the waist, nose skimming across the skin of your neck as he leans forward. He looks you up and down, bright green eyes soaking you up.

“You look so pretty,” he mumbles.

Your breath catches in your throat at his words, leaning into his touch. He brushes his lips against your jaw, just beneath your ear.

“My pretty girl.” He pulls you flush against him, pushing a strand of your hair back. “Gonna drive me crazy.”

“I know what you’re doing,” you breathe, unable to stop yourself from smiling.

“Oh? What am I doing?”

He plays innocent, but you see the look in his eyes.

“You’re trying to distract me from taking care of you. Not going to happen, pretty boy.”

You slip out of his embrace, throwing a teasing glance his way over your shoulder as you head towards the kitchen, swaying your hips perhaps a little more than was strictly necessary.

“Maybe I just think you look really good in my clothes,” he suggests, following you. “Hard to resist.”

You hum mindlessly, a grin playing on your lips as you reach up into the cabinets to pull out an All Might themed bowl for him and a more traditional choice for yourself. You put rice in both of the bowls, doubling the portions for him, and serve the chicken.

“You didn’t have to do this, you know.” Izuku grows more serious from where he sits at your kitchen table, his chair scuffed and comfortable with age, face lit up and golden in the warmth of your kitchen.

“Well, somebody has to feed my big strong hero, and it better not be any other girl,” you respond lightheartedly.

“Wouldn’t want any other girl. Not when I have the best one in the world right here.”

You can’t help but blush as you start in on the food. Deku eats like a starving man, and he has for as long as you’ve known him, except when he’s upset. It gives you almost no time to admire him as you try to keep up, but you still try to get as much of him as you can, always afraid that he’s too good to be true. Worried of the moment he’ll disappear on you.

“I can feel you watching.” He says when he’s finished.

You just roll your eyes, still eating despite your best efforts. He’s called you out on it a million times before. You stopped being embarrassed a long time ago.

You two sit in silence until you finish, but it’s comfortable, the sort of silence that settles down when one of you is tired and the other is pleasantly content, or when maybe you’re both a little bit of each. He speaks up when you take the dishes to place them in the sink.

“You know, you would make a good Mom.” His eyes are glazed over in thought, obviously somewhere else.

“You think so?” You asked quietly, frozen at the kitchen sink.

“Yeah. We would have pretty babies too,” he muses.

“Yeah?” You turn around, leaning your back against the sink.

“Uh huh. Can see it now.” A distant smile pulls the corners of his mouth up. “Our little babies calling you Mommy.”

You cross the kitchen table, settling down into his lap. Your arms loop effortlessly over his broad shoulders, so used to the motion.

“Tell me about it,” you say.

“Wanna buy you a house,” he says, burying his face in the crook of your neck in the way he always does when he’s tired down to his bones. “And a ring. A ring as pretty as you are. I want to have so many babies with you. Have all these kids running around the house, and I want them to all look just as pretty as their Mommy.”

“That sounds perfect.” You run your fingers through his soft curls, body intertwined so closely with his you feel his lashes against your shoulder when he blinks sharply.

“Did you say something about a bath earlier, or did I imagine that?” He asks, voice confused with his exhaustion.

You giggle. “I did actually mention a bath.”

“That sounds nice.”

He stands, picking you up even now, as tired as he is.

“Izuku!” You squeal. “Put me down!”

“Nope, sorry princess. We’re gonna go take a bath.”

He’s all business as he carries you to the bathroom, plopping you down on the edge of the tub. You beat him to the faucet though, determined to keep your hold on the night and keep taking care of him.

“What bath salts do you want?”

He sits down on the floor beside you, back leaning against the tub and cheek pressed to your thigh as he sighs deeply, eyes fluttering shut.

“Whatever you use. Wanna smell like you. You smell good.”

You follow his instructions, setting the bath up with all of your favorites as he peppers the outside of your thigh with kisses. Your hands never shake, the movements practiced from all the years you’ve spent making baths for yourself and later, yourself and Izuku. When you’re finished, you both slide into the bathtub.

You take your time, washing his hair gently. You’re just as careful with the washcloth, paying attention to every part of his body, making sure not to miss a speck of blood or a smudge of dirt. You’re dedicated to your work and unconcerned with your own cleanliness, though you do briefly wash up so you don’t get the sheets dirty.

You wrap him and yourself up in towels when you get out, the darkened water swirling down your drain.

“Somebody was messy today.”

“Sorry.” Izuku blushes, knowing you’ll have to clean the tub later.

“Don’t be. I’m proud of you. You work so hard to keep people safe.”

He smiles at you, and you can see in his eyes he’s woozy from tiredness. You pull him forward into you, holding him in your arms even as you drag him back into bed with you. He manages to crawl into his sweats before crawling under the covers, and you don’t bother to do anything but pop his sweater back on.

He rolls into you, already half asleep but still wrapping you up in his arms. “I meant all of that earlier, you know?”

“Hmm?” you ask, confused.

“I really do want to have a family with you. A home.” He presses a tired kiss to your temple.

“I know. I want that too, ‘Zuku,” you mumble, his tiredness contagious.

“I love you.” He wraps you up tighter if that’s at all possible. “To the moon. And to Saturn. And Pluto.”

You giggle a little, eyelids falling closed. “Love you too. To the moon and to Saturn and to Pluto.”

#prohero!deku #deku #agedup!midoriya #deku x reader #izuku x reader #mha #izuku midoriya

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ifmywishescametrue · 3 years

Note

Hi!!! First of all, I am like🥺 such a fan of everything you write! And so I saw that you’re taking prompts and thought I’d try my luck. So, if you’re inspired of course, maybe you would do “I’m not leaving” or “I’m glad you’re here” (or literally any prompt from that list bc they’re all just🥺🥺) for Steve/Tony? Oh, and as a fellow Swiftie, I hope you’re ready for the Fearless re-release tomorrow !!!🤯 bc I’m looking forward to crying my way through this weekend🥲🥰🥺💖💞

hi!!! thank you so much, and I’m so sorry this took so long! but i also managed to put both prompts into it so hopefully that makes up for it lol. also the fearless re-recordings are so insanely good and the vault songs are god tier!!

Tony has a vision in his mind for the day he graduates from college. It’s been there since he was just a kid and the furthest ahead he could imagine for himself was that day. At the time it seemed like a hundred years away, and it carried an allure of freedom that was nearly unfathomable back then.

He always thought Ana and Jarvis would be there, sitting next to his mom. Howard came and went from the vision, because sometimes Tony would dream that it would be the day he was finally proud of him and sometimes he would be out of Tony’s life completely by then. When Steve comes into his life in middle school, new to California from Brooklyn, he gets added to that vision, too.

The reality ends up disappointing.

It’s been a few months since Jarvis passed, a couple of years since his parents died, and even longer since Ana’s death, but it hurts a little more today. All of the empty seats make Tony’s chest ache. Steve’s absence makes it even worse, even if he understands it. It’s not the first time the army made him miss something big, and Tony knows it won’t be the last. At least he’d been apologetic on the phone. A little sad, even, which made Tony feel worse for it.

After the ceremony ends, Rhodey slings his arm around his shoulder and Pepper walks on his other side.

“Just once I wish they’d pick someone actually good to speak at these things,” Rhodey complains. “That was so cheesy.”

“You mean you aren’t excited for the first day of the rest of our lives?” Pepper teases.

Tony laughs, “I thought the real low point was that joke he tried to make in the middle. Not too inspiring to imply that our degrees are essentially useless.”

“No, I love knowing that I’ve wasted the last four years.”

Rhodey hums, “Also wish he was a little more wrong about that.”

Rhodey’s family starts to call his name, waving enthusiastically from where the large group of them is huddled together. Pepper’s parents stand with them, looking so clearly like the odd ones out that it makes Tony grin.

“I see your families are getting along just fine,” Tony says, watching Pepper’s mom bounce one of Rhodey’s cousins in her arms.

“They’ve joined forces to nag us to death about getting married,” Pepper sighs, but there’s a fond smile on her face that betrays her.

“Trying to get you to set a date?”

Rhodey grins, “Trying to get me to propose, actually.”

“You proposed last month,” Tony frowns and looks down at her left hand, which is surprisingly bare. “I didn’t hallucinate that, did I?”

Pepper pulls her necklace out from where it was hidden beneath her collar. The ring sits on a delicate silver chain, diamond glittering in the sunlight for just a moment before she tucks it away again. She puts her index finger to her lips to tell him to keep it quiet, and Tony laughs.

“What did your innocent families do to deserve this?”

“There are no innocents in our families,” Rhodey says seriously. “We’re just buying ourselves some time until nagging me into proposing turns into everybody trying to plan our wedding for us.”

“My mother has terrible taste,” Pepper adds.

Waving from their families has turned into walking their way, and Tony gets sucked into the fold along with the two of them. He means to slip away after a few minutes, but no one lets that happen. Rhodey’s mom hugs him tightly and tells him he needs to eat more, followed immediately by how proud she is, and his cheeks turn pink under her attention. Somehow she wrangles him into joining them for the celebration dinner, but he can’t say that he minds much when he’s sitting with all of them. The laughter and stories take his mind off the melancholy feeling that’s been following him around lately, and it isn’t until he’s back in his quiet apartment much later in the day that he thinks about it again.

His hand twists into the chain around his neck, dog tags clinking together. They’re the first ones Steve got, back when he was newly enlisted after high school, and the letters are worn down beneath Tony’s thumb as he traces the shape of Steve’s name. He remembers that first time Steve put them around his neck and told him to keep them safe while he was gone. It was a promise to come back, and on the worst nights they’re both a comfort and a curse.

Leaning back against the closed door, he looks at the messy room in front of him. Finals week left him with little time for anything other than studying, and that coupled with his existing propensity for disorder, it looks a bit like a smaller tornado crossed through the apartment. Mugs stained with brown rings on the inside litter the coffee table, accompanied by pages of notes, pens, and uncapped highlighters. The blanket has fallen into a crumpled pile on the floor, and Tony is contemplating if he has the will to clean it all up when there’s a knock right behind his head.

He assumes it’s Rhodey and Pepper, here to decompress after finally untangling themselves from their families, and he turns around to open the door with a light-hearted remark already on his lips. Whatever it was leaves his mind immediately at what he finds instead.

“Hey, baby,” Steve smiles. “I’m sorry I’m late.”

Tony means to say something in return, but all that he actually manages is a choked out sob. He doesn’t fully realize he’s crying until Steve’s hands are on his cheeks to brush away the tears.

“Don’t cry, sweetheart,” Steve murmurs, and Tony clutches at every part of him that he can reach. He grips the rough fabric of the fatigues, clings to his arms and shoulders and back, and he can’t possibly get close enough.

“You’re here,” Tony whispers when he eventually finds his breath again. “You’re here, you’re actually here.”

Steve’s hand strokes through his hair, and his other hand is holding on to Tony just as tight as Tony is holding on to him. “I’m here, baby.”

He isn’t sure how long they stand there like that, swaying slightly as they hang on to each other, but it must be quite a long while before he can let go again. Even then, though, he doesn’t let Steve go very far. They fall onto the couch in one tangled mess of limbs. Tony puts his chin on Steve’s chest to look at him, and Steve looks back with a soft smile that almost makes him want to cry again. There’s a small, faded scratch on Steve’s cheek that wasn’t there before, and Tony reaches out to trace it with the tip of his finger.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Tony says quietly, like if he speaks any louder, the lovely little bubble they’re in will break.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be here earlier,” Steve says again. “I really tried, but -”

Tony interrupts him with a shake of his head, “It’s okay. You’re here now.”

“I’ll be here for a while, I promise.”

Tony smiles, but there’s a dull, familiar ache in his chest at the thought that it will eventually come to end anyway. “How long do I have you for?”

Instead of answering, Steve shuffles a bit beneath him, hand worming its way into his pocket. He pulls out a folded paper and hands it to Tony, expression unreadable. Tony sits up a little to read it, and by the time he’s finished reading every single line to make sure it’s real, his hand is shaking.

“You - you’re - discharged?” Tony stammers out. “You’re done?”

Steve nods, grin slowly forming as he watches Tony process it. “Was sort of hoping that might make up for missing the ceremony this morning.”

Tony laughs, light and carefree in a way that he hasn’t felt in four years. He kisses Steve with everything he has, paper crinkling between them, and between one kiss and the next, Steve reassures, “I’m not leaving, sweetheart. Never leaving again.”

#stevetony #stony #superhusbands #my writing #prompts #prompt fill #my fic

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goodvibesprompttime · 3 years

Note

No worries lol, not a lot of people know of him!

Him and Tommy are good friends and some people creat scenarios of what they think would happen if Deo came into the SMP, seeing how Tommy has been treated and (somewhat) abused.

Anywho, now with that little break I had lots of time to think about asks! Specifically Hermitcraft.

I am requesting a short story of Grian absolutely annoying the ish out of the other hermits (like, way more than usual lol) and how they’d react.

Considering all hermits are little gremlins in their own way, they’d probably laugh - after gasping/screaming/fear singing etc -

But, one type of chaos Grian hasn’t tried yet? Trying to land on people’s shoulders. (Gonna do Hermitcraft 8 w/ the Boatem Pole)

The Magical Menagerie was perfect. The dragon-winged hermit was pleased, and rather proud, of his work. Boo was happy in her containment, the phantom was pleased, the bees were nestling on the flowers, the brown mooshroom was being messed with by Fake Jellie and the black cat Grian had yet to name. He thought about naming her Jinx or maybe Beetle, but nothing was set in stone yet. The winged hermit decided that the day’s work could be relaxed. What better way to relax than to feed all the magical creatures and read a book?

Ironically enough, after giving Boo her gunpowder, and the cats their salmon, the idea came to Grian. He curled his right wing to see it, then nodded slowly. He smirked mischievously, petting Fake Jellie and Black Cat before exiting the Magical Menagerie.

He quickly took flight, excited to find his first victim - ahem - friend.

The winged hermit first spotted Mumbo Jumbo, and made a quick plan as he let his wings keep him afloat. The potato was restocking his potato vending machine, well, “restocking”. More like checking if he needed to restock. Grian landed on Treesea, and shushed the woodly golem before she alerted Mumbo.

Grian then stared a few moments, then jumped off, his wings spread out behind him. “HI MUMBO!”

“Wha-” Mumbo screamed and instantly toppled over when Grian tried to land on his shoulders. Grian was laughing, and Mumbo was groaning. “Ow... hello Grian.”

“Hiiii,” Grian plopped his head on Mumbo’s. “How are youuu?”

“Considering you just tackled me?... pretty good, actually.”

One friend down, another to go.

After Mumbo, Grian stalked the Boatem Village - checking everybody’s bases, their usual spots, but everybody seemed to disappeared. Until, Grian saw Impulse as the man was making plans by the Boatem Hole. The winged hermit flew past Impulse, seeing how he casted a shadow, and waving when Impulse waved back. Grian hummed, deciding to perch on Impulse’s base. He tapped his fingers together in front of his lip.

Impulse changed positions so he was laying on his stomach, writing in his notebook. Grian was the most impatient patient person ever. So, the winged hermit decided to draw on his hand with a marker - he had a marker designed to draw on skin, for just these occasions. With every small doodle done, he glanced down to Impulse, seeing if the hermit had moved.

An hour or so passed, Grian had an entire arm of doodles, but Impulse finally stood up, satisfied with his work. Grian quickly took flight, screaming Impulse’s name as he tackled the hermit all too close to the void.

“GRIAN THE VOID-”

“OH MY GOSH, HAHA-”

“SIR, THAT WAS WAY TOO CLOSE FOR COMFORT!”

Another down... and Grian owed Impulse a sharpie.

Grian decided that Scar was next. He perched on the tippy top of the wagon, waiting for the salesman to arrive. It didn’t take long, surprisingly. Grian climbed down from the peak, watching Scar as he talked to Jellie about building. Being extra careful, Grian gently landed on Scar’s shoulders - Scar wasn’t a fighter, would definitely have to respawn if Grian wasn’t careful.

“Well hello there!” Scar smiled.

“Hi Scar!” Grian smiled, moving from standing on his shoulders to sitting. Jellie meowed, hopping onto Scar’s head by climbing on Grian. “Whatcha doing?”

“I was showing Jellie around!”

Grian and Scar had an hour or so conversation before Grian headed off to find Pearl.

Now, Pearl was a strong hermit. All the hermits were strong in their own ways - if not beefed up from constant fighting or building, they were toned from landscaping and parkour. Pearl was no exception, but she could definitely beat everyone in Boatem in a fight.

Grian wanted to tackle her like Impulse and Mumbo. Surely if she was caught off guard, it would be accomplished.

Nope.

“PEEEEEEARL!!!”

“HELLO GRIAN” Pearl managed to prepared herself as Grian slammed onto her. She stumbled, but kept herself and Grian up. Pearl laughed a bit, and Grian flopped to sit on her shoulders. “Nice one, Grian.”

“I didn’t get you thooooooooooo.”

“Next time, buddy, next time.”

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carnationworld-writings · 3 years

Text

Being pregnant with Greg ‘Mouse’ Gerwitz’s baby

MASTERLIST

Paring: Greg “Mouse” Gerwitz x Reader

Universe: One Chicago

Word Count: 2759

Warnings: mention of PTSD, pregnancy, child birth, pain, therapy, overprotectivness, fem!reader

If I forgot about anything feel free to write to me. Your wellbeing is important to me!

Summary: How your pregnancy could be when being in a relationship with Mouse and as a member of the Intelligence Unit?

You met at work. You were a detective in the Intelligence Unit and an old friend of Jay Halstead when Mouse started working there. You immediately found him very sweet, and very often, you couldn't stop smiling when he couldn't stop talking or did his tech magic.

You spent a lot of time talking. It was common to find both of you together. When you needed a moment to calm down after a case, you hid downstairs with him. When you all talked about new evidence in the case, he would lean against your desk. When you came back from the call, he ALWAYS came to check on you.

You became closer after Nadia's death. Being a female cop was hard. You offered to help her, and that allowed you to spend a lot of time together. Her death hit you hard. (Not so hard like Lindsay, but still.) He had seen how different cases affected you. However, he had never seen you crying so hard, like in the moment when news about finding Nadia's body reached you. You collapsed in his arms, and he held you for hours.

You started dating sometime after that. You both knew Voight's rule about no dating in the unit. Because of that, at your request, when you were sure about this relationship, you told him about this. You were sincere about everything, showing him that your relationship didn't affect your work.

Everybody said that you are a perfect couple. Of course, you argued, but you always tried to understand the other person. Sometimes he was a little overprotective. Sometimes you were pissed off when he shut you down. But at the end of the day, you always tried to make up. Life was too short, especially when you were a cop.

Pregnancy definitely wasn't planned. You realized that you were late on your period, and you told Mouse about this, even if at the beginning you thought that it was because of stress. He offered to go for a pregnancy test. When you waited for results, you saw how anxious he was, so you just held his hand. The test came positive, and you watched how he freaked out. He was afraid that he can't be a good father, that because of his PTSD, he could hurt the baby.

"Greg… I know this is hard, and I'm not ready either. But I can't… I can't abort it." her voice cracked, and she closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. "I know that you will be an amazing father. I know it because you already took good care of me. You are so caring and generous. And I know that you would never hurt them. It will be hard, but I'm sure that together we can do it, like we did with so many things. But if you don't want it… I won't force you to stick with us. And I won't be mad if you walk away. Maybe I'll be a little hurt, but I will understand, Greg." She felt tears in her eyes when she looked at him. She could tell that he was thinking about her words. And then he came closer to her and took her in his arms. He held her tight, and she let her tears run on her cheeks.

"I could never walk away from you. And you're right. We can do it. I'll go for a therapy or support group to keep my demons under control."

She didn't know what to say, how to show him how grateful and happy she was, so she just took his face in her hands and kissed him.

You made an appointment as soon as possible. That day, Mouse called Voight that you felt unwell and he'd stay with you. You went to the doctor's office together. When they did an ultrasound, he held your hand so tight and couldn't stop bouncing his leg. You both couldn't tear your eyes from the picture of your baby on the monitor. When your doctor asked if you wanted her to print it and how many copies you want, he just said: "As many as you could give us."

You told Voight about your pregnancy as soon as it was confirmed. Actually you called him after you left the doctor’s office to meet him. You didn't want to risk the baby's life because of your work. When you told him, he really surprised you. He was so happy for both of you and hugged you. Immediately he put you on desk work for the unit - you worked for him so long that he knew that there is no power in the universe to stop you from working.

You tried to hide it for the rest of the team as long as you could. You wanted to wait for the end of the first trimester, and you used an old wound as an excuse.

After you found out about the baby, Mouse called Doctor Charles and started therapy again. He really wanted to be the best version of him for both of you. You always assured him that you are very proud of him and that you see everything he'd done.

After your first appointment, Mouse became a little overprotective. He checked if you were not hungry and drank enough water. He made sure you didn't drink too much coffee and tried to get you to give it up.

When the possibility of miscarriage went lower, you decided to announce pregnancy to your team. It was so hard to hide your pregnancy, especially when Ruzek and Atwater's lunch choices made you sick. You also were sure that Serge Platt knew about the baby or at least suspected something. This woman always knew everything, but she never said anything.

Y/N and Mouse came to work a little earlier that day. She was glad that only Voight was in the bullpen. Mouse put your enlarged ultrasound on board and you wrote next to it: "Backup is on the way! Baby Gerwitz coming *due date*" and then turned the board to hide it, waiting for the rest of the team. She sat behind her desk, patiently waiting for everybody to come to work and slowly starting paperwork. When everybody came, Mouse went for Trudy, telling her that they needed her help with a case. When they all were on their spots, Voight went out of his office. A few days before, they asked him for help with the announcement, and even if he acted tough cop, he was honoured. He looked at Y/N, and when she nodded, feeling Mouse's hand on arm, he got the unit's attention.

"Listen up, we got a case." He turned the board, and three of them watched the rest of this chosen family. Trudy was the first who gasped, looking at the young detective and then quickly came to her, taking Y/N in her arms. Y/N couldn't stop her tears at the amount of love from this family. She happily accepted every congratulations and hug. When she leaned on Mouse slightly, answering Erin and Antonio's questions, she missed the proud smile that Voight, Trudy and Al exchanged.

Since that day, Halstead, Ruzek and Atwater went overprotective of you. You often found on your desk some healthy snack, they brought you something to drink before you could stand up from your chair. If you only mention food that you craved, often one of them found a way to bring it to you. If you frown because of a cramp or because the position you were sitting in was not comfortable, they immediately asked if you were alright or needed to see a doctor. If they only could, they would put you on bed rest - much to Mouse happiness. And when they were too much, and your threats to kick their asses didn't work, only one look at Olinsky or Lindsay was enough to put them in line by one of them. Trudy welcomed you every day with a big smile, asking how you and "Baby Mouse" were feeling. She always made sure that you didn't carry anything looking heavy and made one of the patrol officers bring it upstairs. She loved hearing news about the baby, and when she found out that they started kicking, she was more than happy to feel it on her hand.

You and Mouse spent a lot of time at home. He loved holding you in his arms, caressing your belly. One of his best memories from pregnancy was when you both felt them kicking for the first time. He bent on his knees to place a kiss on your stomach, and then he felt it against his lips. He gasped with wide-open eyes, and with chuckles, he kissed it again, whispering how much he loves them.

Mouse didn't let you do anything in the nursery. Of course, you could choose everything and decide what you want it to look like, but you couldn't even wash off the dust. With help from Jay, he made everything there, and you could go inside only when everything was ready. The effect exceeded your expectations.

Pregnancy also affected your sex life, especially in the second trimester. Your hormones made you so horny, and after calming Mouse that sex is safe in your condition, you tried new positions and other ways to reach the pleasure.

Mouse made sure to be at every doctor appointment. He loved seeing your child on ultrasound and hearing their heartbeat. He also went with you to childbirth classes. Actually, it was him who asked to go there. He just wanted to know what he should be prepared for.

He didn't complain about helping you when you couldn't sleep at night. He would go to the grocery if you had some weird cravings. He would rub your belly, talking to the baby, when they were moving too much. He would do everything to make you comfortable. He would rub your leg when you woke up because of contraction or massage your back. He tried to be patient with you, and your moods swung. He would calm you down with a smile after you started crying at Ruzek's comment about how big your belly became. He always assured you how beautiful you were in his eyes and how much he loved you and your changing body.

You didn't make it to maternity leave when your waters broke in the middle of the bullpen. Everybody knew that you wanted to stay as long as you could at work. It was your first child, and you were a little afraid to be alone too long, and your sight also calmed down Mouse. You were alone upstairs when it started. Very calm you came to your desk and called Trudy, who were downstairs at the front desk. When she packed you to the car, you texted Mouse to meet in the hospital.

You were already changed in a hospital gown and slowly walking through the hospital corridors, leaning on Trudy's arm. She held your hand and slowly rubbed your backs whenever you stopped because of contraction. You both talked with Maggie from ED when you saw him running in look at you. You smiled at him and leaned against him when he hugged you.

"You alright, babe? You scared me…" he whispered in your hair.

"I'm okay. The baby just decided to come earlier. I think they couldn't wait to meet you." He chuckled, and then he looked at Trudy.

"Sarge, thank you for keeping them safe."

"Everything for that baby." She smiled at you and squeezed your hand. She stepped back to go to the district, where she could wait there for any news about the baby, but you held her hand.

"Sarge. Could you... Stay here?" If it didn't feel the wave of pain that moment, you could see tears in her eyes when she happily agreed.

He saw pain on your face and how you dealt with it. He felt so helpless, hearing your moans and grunts full of pain. He tried to do everything to ease it at least a little, but there was a moment when he felt so overwhelmed by this.

You watched Mouse, trying to breathe in the way they taught you in childbirth classes. You saw how his eyes became foggy, and he couldn't stop them at anything for more than a few seconds. You slowly touched his hand and squeezed it slightly.

"Greg, love... Maybe you should take a walk? Go check if the unit is here or go buy yourself something to drink."

He didn't say anything but nodded his head and then walked out to the corridor. He didn't know how he walked out in front of the hospital. Not long after this, Jay found him sitting there with his head in his arms. With a frown, he touched his shoulder. He quickly guessed that his PTSD was making itself felt.

"Mouse, something happened? Something with the baby?"

"She's in so much pain..."

"And she needs you right now. Y/N is giving birth to your baby. And both of them need you, man."

"What if I lose her? I can't..."

"And you won't. Y/N is the toughest cop I know, and she will survive this just like your baby. But she needs to know right now that you are with her in this. She needs all the moral support she can get, and you are the best person for this." Mouse nodded and took a few deep breaths.

"You're right. Y/N needs me." Mouse looked at his friend and quickly got up. He ran to your room again to hold your hand through all this.

Since that moment, he was by your side all the time, doing everything you asked him. When you started pushing, he held your hand and kept kissing your head. He whispered encouraging words in your ear, trying to be helpful for you. He couldn't count how many times he wished to take all your pain on him.

He started crying when he heard your baby crying. When they rested them on your chest, he watched them, carefully touching their backs. He laced a fond kiss on their head and then kissed your lips. You watched this little person snuggling to your body with an amused face expression.

After they checked if everything was okay with the baby and with you, they put you in a room. You sent Mouse to tell your friends that the baby is already in the world, and he did it with a proud smile. He asked them to give you some time, and then they could meet the youngest Gerwitz. He came back to you and then held your child against his chest when you rested a little.

After some time, full of watching your baby and daydreaming about their future, Mouse went for your unit family. You held the baby in your arms with a big smile when they came in. Erin, Kim and Trudy started cooing at the baby when the older of them took the baby in her arms. You watched them with a tired smile, couldn't help giggling when Mouse acted as an overprotective father. You looked up, feeling how someone squeezed your shoulder slightly, and you met Voight's eyes, who smiled at you and whispered: "Good work, kid. And don't worry. This will be the safest kid in the whole city." It just made you believe that the whole unit will have this child’s back no matter what. And for most of the afternoon, you sat surrounded by people who you choose for your family. You listened to how they promised your child what they would do together and how great it will be. You were moved how they already cared for this baby and you. You happily accepted every hug, especially the one from Trudy and Al, which were like parental for you.

When you were left alone, Mouse couldn't tear his eyes from your baby and didn't want to put them on that cold, plastic crib. He kissed your forehead with eyes full of love and let you finally sleep. In this room was everything that he ever wanted but didn't have enough courage to dream about this. So he watched the both of you, vigilant that no one disturbs you in your sleep. It was his life now, and he swore to himself that he would do everything to keep you both safe and happy.

***

Author’s note:

Thank you for reading! Please, let me know what are you thinking about this one! Your comment means a world for me and motivates me to work! Also, taglist is open! If you want to be added just let me know!

In advance, I am sorry about every grammar mistake and misspellings. English is not my first language.

Klaudia xx

***

One chicago taglist: @teti-menchon0604

Let me know if you want to be added/removed.

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writesowhatnext · 4 years

Text

pretending is a gateway drug // george weasley

Summary: George bribes the reader into being his fake girlfriend for forty-two days, you can imagine how that plays out.

Request: hey lovey! absolutely in love with your writing; it’s so beautiful and i just cannot get enough of it! if your requests are open (and you like the idea) could i ask for our beloved george x reader—i’ve recently been obsessed with fake dating tropes where they end up together in the end.. i don’t have anything specific in mind for the plot, i know whatever you come up with will be fabulous :D thanks a ton darling.. keep on writing, you have a gift, x

A/N: I love this trope so much and this was the sweetest compliment and I was beyond excited to start this – also I usually try to keep it gender neutral but it was a struggle with this so sorry about that :( also this is so long oh my god

Reader: female

Warnings: female reader, making out

You hadn’t heard George sneak up behind you, but being friends with the twins for as long as you had, you weren’t surprised easily.

“Y/N, I need a favour,” he said, leaning on the bookshelf you were rifling through. You didn’t turn to face him; you already knew it was George by his voice.

“No.”

You dragged your fingers across the spines of a few books before finding the book on Potions you were after, a disproportionately happy smile lifting your cheeks at the prospect.

“You don’t even know what it is!”

You huffed, running your tongue over your teeth before turning to him, tilting your head.

“Fine. What is it?”

You raised your eyebrow, leaning the book on your hip. He smiled slightly.

“I need you to pretend to be my girlfriend.”

You blinked at him, staring at his hopeful expression.

“No.”

And with that, you walked over to Madam Pince to sign out the book. George stayed a few feet behind you, not wanting to incur Madam Pince’s wrath as he had done countless times before. Fred and George were notorious in the library; once they’d made Pince so mad she banned them for a month before McGonagall convinced her they needed to use the library for their studies. A laughable idea.

“Thank you,” you said to the librarian. She shot George a deathly glare over your shoulder and you couldn’t help but enjoy his discomfort. She then directed it at you and you found yourself walking toward the exit very quickly.

“Come on, Y/N, please!” George begged, walking next to you back to the Gryffindor common room.

“No.”

“Please…”

“Nope.”

“What if I split the money with you?”

You stopped in your tracks, frowning and turning your head towards him.

“What money?”

You wanted to punch him for the cheerful grin that erupted on his face.

“I am so very glad you asked. Ron said that I couldn’t get a girlfriend if I tried, which is a bit rich, really, don’t you think?”

Something about your expression told him he should get to the point.

“Anyway, so, Ron made a bet with Fred that I couldn’t get a girlfriend before the Yule Ball.”

“So why not just get one of the Beauxbatons girls to date you? It’s like two months away.”

“Forty-two days, actually. And, I don’t actually want a girlfriend.”

You narrowed your eyes.

“I don’t believe you.”

He rolled his eyes and grabbed your shoulders, spinning you around to face the window, the whole of Hogwarts in the view.

“There is a whole world of girls to make out with out there, Y/N. Now, why would I limit myself?”

You turned your head to face him, his face very close to yours from where he stood with his palms still sat on your shoulders. Your face felt warm all of a sudden.

“I hate you.”

“I know,” he smiled, letting you go so you could turn around. “But will you help me?”

“Why me? Why not Angelina? Or Katie?”

“Fred’s got his eye on Angelina and I think Katie actually fancies me…” his expression turned from pensive to cocky in almost a second. “Can’t blame her really.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes and crossing your arms, your book perched in your hand.

“How much?”

“The bet’s four galleons.”

“Four?” you echoed, frowning. “Bloody hell, Ron must really think you’re undesirable.”

You smirked, tilted your head to the side. “Can’t blame him really.”

“Oi!” George huffed, pushing you to the side. You shoved him back, starting to walk again.

“I’ll do it for two galleons.”

“Two galleons! That’s bloody half!”

“Nice to see your years of Arithmancy has paid off.”

“That only leaves a galleon each for me and Fred.”

“Without me, it leaves nothing for you and Fred, because without me, you won’t win the bet.”

He stared at you for a moment, the only sound: your in-sync footsteps down the corridor.

“Fine.”

“When do we start then, boyfriend?” you asked, stopping directly outside the Fat Lady’s portrait and swivelling to face George with a smug grin, enjoying his annoyed reluctance far too much.

“Right now, girlfriend.”

And so, that’s how became George Weasley’s girlfriend in four minutes – no doubt a new record for him. When you walked inside, you rushed to sit down first, as you always did, and ended up on the opposite side of the sofa to Fred, your feet stretched out towards him and your back against the arm. As he always did, George lifted your feet with an eye roll and sat underneath them, resting them on his lap. The others all greeted you but nobody batted an eyelid.

But then George placed his hand on your leg, just above your knee and you felt your breath hitch at the contact. He seemed to notice your unease and turned to you, a silent question in his eyes as he began to rub his thumb up and down. You shot him a small smile, mainly for any audience you may have had, you told yourself, but you couldn’t deny how nice it felt, though and that both scared and delighted you.

“I’m sorry,” Fred said, his voice loud as he looked at you. No one had really heard him yet, but you knew it wouldn’t stop him, he was relentless. His eyes were full of amusement and you could only imagine how much he’d enjoy this whole arrangement. “What is happening here?”

He pointed at George’s hand on your knee and for some reason, George had the good sense to look almost bashful at the attention. Some part of you didn’t want him to make it a big deal or obvious but you couldn’t figure out why exactly.

“Bit saucy for you two, isn’t it?”

With a scowl, you lifted up the leg George’s hand wasn’t rested on and kicked Fred in the side, earning a grunt in response.

“Shut up, Fred,” you whispered, trying not to draw attention to yourself. George laughed at his twin’s pained expression.

“Brilliant, love.” He said so easily it was almost natural. You froze at the pet-name but thankfully you could blame it on Ron’s outburst that had cut through the room.

“Is something going on with you two?” he asked suspiciously, looking between you and George accusingly.

“Get a grip,” Ginny insisted, “Y/N would never stoop that low.”

You smiled at her comment but you knew you’d have to do something pretty convincing to earn your two galleons.

“Oh, shut up, Ron,” you said half-heartedly, drawing every eye listening to you. George’s hand squeezed your leg comfortingly, or maybe warningly. Hermione frowned, leaning forward.

“Are you dating George?”

You pursed your lips and leant into the back of the sofa, automatically towards George, a force of habit you weren’t aware of.

“Wow,” Harry said, rather observantly for him. You rolled your eyes before standing up and walking away from them. You knew all eyes were on you and so, you stopped and turned, eyebrows drawn down.

“You coming?”

George’s face lit up at your words and he stood up, grinning as he raced over to you. As you both walked towards the boys’ dorms, you could feel their stares on your back. George could too, it seemed, and as you started up the stairs, he rested a hand on your hip. You knew, at that point, that you were definitely getting paid after this.

You were two weeks in when you started slipping. You hadn’t forgotten that you were supposed to be dating, in fact, it seemed like you’d forgotten that you weren’t really. Something about George just felt so right and easy. He’d put his arm around your waist when you sat next to him or around your shoulder in the corridor and he’d kiss your hairline before he left and your cheek when you’d done something to be proud of. You spent more time with him to keep up appearances and whilst you knew you liked George - he was one of your best friends for a reason - you didn’t realise how much you liked his company. He made you laugh until you thought you’d throw up and smile so much your cheeks would ache. You had to remind yourself it wasn’t real but you didn’t suspect anything untoward about your feelings really – you were just close with your best friend, is all.

Ron, however, was immensely suspicious. After three weeks of the pretence, he stormed in to find you lying on the sofa with George, your head on his shoulder with his arm wrapped around you as you played with each other’s hands, talking about nothing. It wouldn’t have been an uncommon sight before your business deal but now everybody thought you were dating, there was something strangely intimate about it.

“I know you’re faking it,” Ron said, frowning and pointing his finger at you both. You snorted and George frowned, neither of you moving.

“Okay?” you said, not at all fazed. Maybe you’d gotten a little too used to it.

“I’ve never seen you kiss.”

You shot Ron a strange look before you felt George’s lips briefly pressed against the side of your head. Ron rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, a smug expression on his face.

“I meant properly. I’ve never seen you kiss properly.”

Fred, who’d only just arrived, sat down on a chair opposite you with an amused smile.

“You’re a right little pervert. Aren’t you, Ronniekins?”

“Oh, piss off, Fred. You know I’m right!”

“Fine,” George said, shuffling a little bit and sitting you both up. He stood on the sofa, dragging you up with him. He ignored your confused expression, looking around the busy common room with a grin. “Ladies, gentlemen and Ron, this is my very real girlfriend and we are very really dating and I love her very much.”

You knew it wasn’t real and you were fine with that, you thought. You couldn’t ignore, though, the unsettling feeling in your stomach. You didn’t have time to think on it though because within seconds, George had grabbed your face in his large, warm hands and kissed you. You were understandably startled at first, completely unprepared and very much not convinced about how fake the whole thing was – it certainly didn’t feel fake when he bit softly at your bottom lip. There were multiple wolf whistles and hoots from the people around, mostly Fred, you suspected. You couldn’t focus on them as your hands shot to George’s chest in surprise, his jumper soft under your fingertips. He leant you back a little bit, one of his hands holding you close to him by the small of your back. It wasn’t until you felt lightheaded that he pulled away.

Slightly dazed, you looked up at him and he sent you a dazzling smile before he turned to Ron, who was as red as a tomato and swallowing gruffly.

“Fine,” he muttered, shaking his head. He all but slumped away, cursing under his breath.

George turned to you, a smile on his face, as everyone decided they had better things to do than stare at you and George making out. You felt a lump in your throat as you stared at him and for a moment, it all felt way too real; one hand on your back and the other cupping your jaw, you felt like he was still kissing you and suddenly you couldn’t breathe again. George opened his mouth to speak but Fred beat him to it. His face was a lot lower than yours were from his place on the floor, a ridiculously smug smile on his lips.

“Brilliant work, you two,” he said cheerily, staring at you for a fraction too long. “Truly dedicated to the cause.”

You felt sick at his words, but you nodded anyway.

“Thanks for going with me there, Y/N. We definitely sold that kiss.”

You nodded again, feeling empty. Nothing made you feel more hollow, though than when George’s hands left you.

“Ready to go give Filch a lunchtime he won’t regret?”

“Always,” George replied, beyond excited. He shot you a wink before disappearing with his brother through the portrait hole. You sat down on the sofa with a huff, your eyes sad and your heart tied to an anchor.

You avoided George the fourth week. Not enough to make anyone suspicious, but enough to make you feel less horrible about the whole situation. You weren’t ready to think about why it had been bothering you so much; you knew it was fake when you signed up for it and it wasn’t like you liked George or anything. Fortunately, a voice calling your name interrupted you before you could go down that rabbit hole. Unfortunately, the voice belonged to George and he was chasing after you, rushing past shorter students. You knew full well you couldn’t avoid him, no matter how much you wanted to, so you plastered a big smile on your face and turned to him, fully aware that noise carried on the moving staircases.

“Georgie,” you said happily, ignoring the gnawing feeling inside. “How’re you?”

You expected an equally fake response from him, but, as always, he surprised you. He grabbed the top of your arm lightly and pulled you into a deserted classroom, shutting the door behind you and dropping his hand.

“Why are you avoiding me?” he asked, his eyebrows drawn together and eyes full of, what looked like, hurt. He was a better actor than you gave him credit for.

“What do you mean?” Your voice was the same light and airy tone you’d used in the corridor and it clearly wasn’t sitting well with George.

“No, no,” he shook his head, his long red hair swishing with the movement. He did look very handsome- “None of that crap, I’m serious. Why’re you avoiding me?”

“Why?” you frowned. “Does someone suspect something?”

“What?” he looked visibly taken aback. “No, forget that. I want to know why my best friend is ignoring me.”

You swallowed, not really looking at him, but through him.

“It’s nothing, George.”

“It’s clearly not nothing-“

“George, give it a rest, please.”

He paused, noticing how upset you seemed. He went to brush away a stray lock of hair from your cheek when you pulled away, avoiding his eyes.

“I’ll make sure nobody questions anything, don’t worry,” you said before rushing around him, leaving the door open behind you.

George officially didn’t know what he was doing. It seemed like a great idea, at first. He needed a fake girlfriend, his best friend was a girl and Fred had agreed, he’d pushed him to ask you and it was going great, it was very convincing. Truth be told, he loved it. He loved making you laugh and he loved the casual touches and the affection. But then he kissed you, and something changed and now you wouldn’t even talk to him.

“Fred?” he asked, sitting on the floor of his dorm opposite his brother. “Do you think I’ve messed it all up with Y/N?”

“What?”

Fred, who rarely worried about anything in life, was concerned. As soon as Ron had teased George about getting a girlfriend, he’d orchestrated the whole thing to try and get the two of you together. He’d been right, as well; those few weeks you spent pretending only further convinced him that you were both perfect for each other. But now, sitting there, playing around with random inventions, he felt slightly guilty.

“She won’t talk to me,” he paused, “I think it’s this stupid bet.”

Fred had never seen George look so sad.

“After I kissed her, she’s just been acting so weird. I just-“ he paused again, sighing. “I just want my best friend back.”

Whilst Fred was, of course, very sympathetic to his brother’s plight, he’d stopped listening. George’s words only further solidified his belief – if you freaked out after kissing George, there was only one reason why and he would get it out of you, kicking and screaming.

“You fancy George,” he said the next day, following you into an empty corridor on your way to the library to return a book.

“Firstly, stop following me, you creepy sod. Secondly, of course, I do,” your voice grew an edge, “he’s my boyfriend.”

“Now we both know, dear Y/N, that that is not what I meant.”

You stopped walking and frowned at him; his smile only grew.

“See, I thought about why kissing him would freak you out so much and it just became so blindingly obvious. I mean you picked the less good-looking twin, but I can understand it-“

“Does he know?” you asked, and Fred’s amusement faded when he saw your panic.

“No, but I suggest you talk to him about it. It’s definitely in your best interest.”

With that, he strolled in the opposite direction, whislting with his hands shoved in his pockets, leaving you with a big decision and also, probably, a library fine.

You didn’t decide to talk to George until dinner. You sat next to him the whole time, your arms touching, but never really interacting with each other and that only created a black hole in your chest. You couldn’t cope without George, as your best friend or the something more you knew you wanted him to be. After you’d both finished eating, you reached over and grabbed his hand, his head jolting towards you at the contact.

“Can we talk?” you asked quietly, everyone else too concentrated on their food to hear you. He nodded and with a carefully calculated routine, you walked out of the Great Hall hand in hand. Your hands dropped as soon as you turned the corner and that alone made you feel sick.

“George-“

“Y/N-“

You both stopped, nervous, breathy laughter filling the corridor over the soft hum of people talking from the hall next door.

“You go first,” you insisted, desperate to avoid what you knew you had to do.

“Well,” he scratched the back of his neck with his hand before sighing. “This whole thing started off really nice, like really nice,” your eyebrows drew downwards at the soft pink flush of his cheeks.

“But now it’s weird and we’re weird and I- Y/N, I don’t want us to be weird. I don’t care about four stupid galleons; I care about my best friend-“

“George, I like you. Like, like like you ”

You had to curse yourself for your timing, but you just couldn’t hold it in, looking at his sweet expression as his mouth said such nice things.

“What?”

You screwed your eyes shut and let out a shaky exhale.

“I didn’t know I did until we were pretending and then there was all the touching and the talking and it just felt so right and then you kissed me and I didn’t know what to do because it wasn’t real and all I wanted it to be was real and I didn’t know-“

His lips were on yours and his hands, cupping your jaw gently, pulled you into him. You barely registered it before he pulled away, a large smile on his face that only grew larger with your bewildered expression.

“Y/N, will you be my girlfriend?” he asked, wetting his lips as his thumb lightly brushed your cheekbone. You blinked at him, your mouth opening and closing like a goldfish.

“For real?”

He laughed.

“For real.”

You couldn’t help the slow smile that lifted your cheeks, unable to contain the happiness that flodded through you. Your whole body felt light and George’s smitten expression made your heart soar. His eyes twinkled and you knew that yours would be just as ecstatic.

“I thought you didn’t want to limit yourself to just one-“

Before you could finish your teasing remark, he was kissing you again and this time, it was even better; this time it was for real.

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harryimaginedstories · 4 years

Text

on your side

genre: au (while I don’t like the term ‘au-fic’ at all imagine the two characters are in college together and in their early twenties.) angst and some fluff as well.

about 5k words

it’s entirely different than anything I have ever published and I really love it. please let me know what you think and stay safe during these wild and often scary times.