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moonstruckme · 7 months

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Omg Mae more Spence please!! I love him ❤️❤️ what about the team is out at the bar after a case and some guy is flirting with reader and not taking no for an answer and spencer steps in even tho it’s out of character for him bc he’s so so jealous

Thanks for requesting :)

cw: minor assault, fictional confirmation that most guys are douchebags

Spencer Reid x bau!reader ♡ 926 words

“Right,” JJ says, “so Henry had actually been trying to say ‘fork,’ but of course everyone heard ‘fuck.’”

You double over, laughter bubbling to the surface even easier than usual with the help of the couple of drinks you’ve had. Garcia has far surpassed you, tears leaking from her eyes as Morgan all but holds her upright.

“And Will’s mom was…” JJ shakes her head with a smile, taking a sip of her drink. “Well, she was pretty upset. She accused Will of using that language around Henry, because she said he’s always had a potty mouth.”

“Will?” Garcia cackles. “Our sweet southern beaux? There’s no way.”

“I don’t know,” Emily muses. “I can see it. But he wouldn’t do it around Henry, for sure.”

“Actually,” Spencer pipes up, “studies show that many children pick up swear words regardless of their parents’ usage. Even if they don’t know what they mean, most have a vocabulary of thirty to forty offensive words by the time they start school.”

The humor drains from JJ’s face. “Like, kindergarten?”

“Sometimes earlier,” Spencer says, before seeming to realize JJ finds these facts more alarming than fascinating. “I’m sure Henry will have a higher vocabulary than that by the time he gets to that age, though.” he adds hastily. “Probably won’t even need to resort to swear words.” You grin at him, laying your head on his shoulder consolingly. You might not have done it if you were completely sober, but right now it feels like the most natural thing in the world, and Spencer only tenses for a second before relaxing.

It’s Garcia who notices first, stiffening and straightening in her seat, but Hotch is the one to ask, “Can we help you?”

“I think so,” drawls a voice from behind you. “You can give me your friend’s number.”

You turn, finding yourself too close to the man standing with his hand presumptuously on the back of your chair and grinning like your agreement is a done deal.

“Thanks,” you say, not unkindly, “but I’m not looking for anything.”

The man tilts his head as if to say come on. “But don’t you just love when you find it anyways?”

“I’m here with my friends.”

“And I’m not asking you to leave them.” He moves his hand to your shoulder, undeterred when you lean away. “Just give me your number, and next time you can be here with me.”

“She said she’s not interested.” Emily’s voice is hard. If this guy weren’t so unpleasant, you’d be impressed that he’s still here, with your whole team staring daggers at him.

The douchebag only smiles. “She didn’t say that, though. Did you, sweetheart?”

Your blood runs hot at his disregard of Emily. A man like this, you know—the assertive, overly masculine type—can be dangerous to piss off. But so can you. “I’m not," you say, finally letting the disgust you’ve been holding back seep into your voice. “Leave us alone.”

Anger sparks in the man’s eyes, just like you knew it would. You don’t expect your gaze looks much different. His grip on your shoulder tightens as he gets in your face, close enough for you to smell the alcohol on his breath. “I know you don’t mean that.”

You tense, ready to shake him off you and drag him back to whatever musty corner of the bar he’d come from, but Spencer beats you to it.

“Okay, that’s enough,” he says, prying the fingers from your shoulder. You stand, a protective instinct moving you in front of Spencer, but he pushes past you, badge outheld. “FBI. Do you really wanna pursue this? Because if so, I’ll have no problem cuffing you and explaining it to the local police.”

The guy makes like he’s going to dart for you again, but Spencer steps in his way, pushing him back with a hand on his shoulder. His voice is quiet but clear. “Do not touch her.”

“Fuck off,” the guy shakes Spencer’s hand off, stalking away. He’s drunker than you thought, wobbling his way back to the bar.

“Spence,” you say, taking his hand as though mere contact with the man’s shoulder could hurt it. “You didn’t have to do that, I could have handled it.”

“You shouldn’t have to,” he replies, pulling back the collar of your shirt distractedly. His fingers skim over tender skin, and you look down to find your shoulder is red where the man had gripped it. It’ll probably be a bruise tomorrow. Spencer’s eyes darken. “I can still arrest him. That’s assault.”

“It’s fine.” You move your shirt back into place, pulling him back to your seats. “I’m fine, really. Sorry about the scene, guys.”

“You’ve got nothing to apologize for,” Hotch says severely, still eyeing the man from across the room.

Morgan lets out a low whistle, relaxing back into his seat. “Way to go, wonder boy. Got a little jealous there, did we?”

Spencer lets out a little laugh, though it sounds more strained than usual. “I just did what all of us wanted to do.”

“Agreed,” Emily says gruffly, toasting with her beer. “I thought I was going to have to go all the way around the table to kick that guy’s ass.”

You laugh. “I appreciate the support, but I can take care of myself, you know.” You adjust your collar self-consciously, and as soon as you drop your hand back to your lap, Spencer’s taking it in his under the table.

“Yeah,” he says casually, thumb stroking soothingly at your wrist. “We know.”

#spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid scenario #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fandom

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aphroditelovesu · 3 months

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Yan!Husband Henry VIII Headcanons (Romantic)

❝ 👑 — lady l: This has been in my draft for a while but I decided to finish it now lol. Hope you like it! Forgive me for any mistakes. ❤️🧡

❝tw: obsessive and possessive behavior, toxic relationship, mention of death perhaps.

❝👑pairing: yandere!henry viii x female!reader.

You had already dreamed of marrying a King, of becoming his Queen and giving birth to his heirs, a romantic fantasy that you and many other young women have dreamed of. They were mere fantasies of romance that you made up, but never really thought it would happen or become the obsession of one of the most infamous Kings in the history of England.

Your dreams remained as they were, dreams of a young lady. The King of the country where you lived was already married, so there wasn't much chance of you marrying him. Your family was of noble enough origin and had considerable wealth, but nothing too extravagant.

Until your older sister's marriage to a powerful man, close to the King. With that, your family immediately moved to the English Court, excited about their new status. Your father was particularly eager to marry you off to a powerful man as well.

Henry was dissatisfied with his wife, Anne, she had failed to conceive the much-desired male heir he so desperately wanted. His wandering eyes began to wander to the young women of the Court and when he laid eyes on you, he knew you would be the one to give him what he wanted.

Henry's captivating gazes seemed to follow you wherever you went and it began to unnerve you. A hint of excitement perhaps, but you knew it was a dangerous game to get involved with the King, especially when he was married.

Your parents were immensely happy with the King's interest in you. If you became his mistress, it would bring benefits and riches to your family. And when Henry got tired of you, you could perhaps marry a man with a noble title. Maybe a Duke or a Marquis.

But you didn't want to be his mistress or anyone's mistress. You wanted a husband and not a mere toy that he could always discard later. Your resistance angered your parents but attracted Henry even more. Your rejecting him has stirred him up, and bewitched him even more. Whenever you were in a room, Henry's eyes would be on you.

All of Henry’s attention was on you and you would be lying if you said you didn’t like it. He didn't even try to hide his affection for you, he sent you gifts and letters constantly. You reciprocated, sending him letters in return, but always remaining firm in your convictions.

Before long, Henry was deeply in love with you and quickly got rid off his current wife, Anne. When he asked you to marry him, shortly after his separation from Anne, you hesitated but accepted. You would finally become his and his alone.

Once you were married, Henry became more possessive than ever. He already didn't like the looks other gentlemen gave you, but now that you were officially his, it would be considered a crime of treason. And we know how he deals with betrayal.

You were his perfect Queen, so sweet and so, well, perfect. Henry makes a point of reminding you of that every day, about how perfect you were for him. He really was in love, so he kept on your side the whole time. His eyes remained only on you.

Henry truly values you and your opinion. It is not a custom, but he would be willing to listen to your wishes and political opinions (if you have any) on matters of state. You are his Queen, after all. If it was your wish, if you were Catholic, Henry could even try to restore Catholicism in England.

He really loved you, maybe not in the conventional way, but he did. Henry would listen to your wishes, fulfill them and all he wants in return is his love. He will not tolerate people speaking ill of you and will condemn anyone who does so for treason.

Henry would be loyal to you, he would take care of you until your death. He wants to have children with you, a family, a male heir, but he also wants to be with you. He could be himself and not the King of England.

And when you finally gave him his long-awaited male heir, Henry knew he would never let you go or let anything happen to you. After all, you are his wife and his Queen. And Henry doesn't handle treason very well.

#yandere history #yandere historical characters #history #the tudors #yandere the tudors #yandere henry viii #yandere Henry VIII x reader #yandere henry viii headcanons #henry viii x reader #headcanons #yandere headcanons

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oneforthemunny · 4 months

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hot blooded |boxer!eddie munson x reader|

prompt: eddie's boxing at underground fight clubs to make money. after a victory match, he meets you at the bar. or the beginning of you and boxer!eddie.

contains: mean reader and mean eddie lol. mainly fluff. eddie munson au. happy one year!

Bloodied knuckles raised in the dim light of the bar, a triumphant yell mixed with a grunting of disappointment of those who bet against him when Eddie’s hand was raised, declared the winner. Henry Harrington fisted a wad of cash into Eddie’s hand; six thousand dollars, enough for the entry fee for the middleweight match at the end of the month.

Mr. Harrington snickered, clapping Eddie on the back. “Help yourself to anything at the bar, alright? On me tonight, Champ, you earned it.” And for a fleeting moment Eddie pictured busting his nose, knocking the smug man clean onto the concrete of the bar, letting his blood pool at his feet.

Instead, he shoved on the robe they gave, covered up his sticky, sweat soaked skin, blossoming with bruises and cuts he’d still hadn’t gotten to tend to. Maybe Max would still be up when he got back home, she could patch up the ones he couldn’t reach.

“Double Blanton’s on the rocks.” Eddie grumbled to the cocktail waitress in front of him, not bothering to meet her gaze as he unwrapped his tape from his knuckles.

She didn’t move. Electric red nails on her hip, the others drumming against the mahogany of the bar. Eddie lifted his gaze, lids throbbing with dull pain that was just beginning to set in. “What?”

“You’re bleeding.” Your eyes rolled over his frame, stopping at the cut on his jaw, dripping onto his robe, crimson droplets on the bar.

“Yeah.” Eddie clicked with annoyance. “No shit. Double Blanton’s-”

“-You’re bleeding all over my bar.” Your nail jabbed onto the counter, next to the splotches of blood dripping there.

Eddie blinked, unimpressed, annoyed. “Can you make me my fuckin’ drink or not?” You don’t move, staring at him still, nails still clicking against the counter.

“For fucksake,” Eddie huffs, teeth gritting, reaching over the edge of the bar to swipe the napkins off from your station. Palm slapping on the counter, wiping up the small spot. “There. Happy? Good? Can I get my fuckin’ drink now?”

Pushing up from your stance, you swiped the glass from the clean stack, setting it on the counter. Eddie huffed, slumping back in his chair. He should’ve just gone home, he bristled, familiar agitating heat rising in his chest, clenching his fists.

“Harrington’s tab?” You lifted your gaze to his, yanking the cork out of the bottle by the brass horse.

Eddie’s steely gaze met yours. “What?”

“Harrington’s tab?” You repeated, slower, tone teetering on an edge. “You’re on Harrington’s tab, correct?” You huffed, nodding down towards the man at the end of the bar.

“Yeah.” Eddie grunted.

You rolled your eyes, a heavy pour of the bourbon you didn’t bother to measure. “The fuck is your problem?” Eddie’s palm slapped the bar, an echoing of a hit that the people next to him scurrying away. “Are you just a bitch for fun or do you have something against me?”

“You came bleeding all over my bar,” You scoffed, brow raised in a dangerously demanding way. “Don’t bother to ask for a napkin, or even acknowledge me, really. And I’m a bitch?”

Eddie’s tongue rolled over the front of his teeth, knee bouncing furiously under him. “Sorry, I’m not feeling up to small talk. I just got done gettin’ the shit knocked outta me for six rounds. Did you miss that, sweetheart? Not see all the fuckin’ people in the middle of the room?”

“No, I was a little busy.” You were quick, response rolling off your tongue in a fiery whip of an answer easily. “Busy working.”

“Yeah? What the fuck do you think I was doin’?” Eddie scoffed. “Holding a fuckin’ tea party for the Sunday Social over there? I was working too.”

“Working?” You snort, rolling your eyes again. Eddie’s teeth clench. “You call that working?”

“I got paid.” Eddie hissed. “What would you call it? Since you seem to know everything?”

“Not enough money in the world to make me do that for them.” You narrow your eyes at him. “Hardly call that working, it’s so demeaning.”

“Demeaning,” Eddie repeated, rolling his eyes. “I provide entertainment, sweetheart. Same as you do, I’m sure.” He nodded down towards your tiny dress of a uniform.

“Entertainment? That’s entertaining?” You nodded towards the ring.

“Yeah, it is. Boxing? A lot of people find it entertaining. Thought you would know that.” Eddie snapped, viscous, defensive.

“Watching two grown men beat the shit out of each other, so these other grown men can bet on you like horses?” You scoffed, rolling your eyes with a sneer. “No, can’t say that’s very entertaining to me.”

“So why are you here then, huh?” Eddie scoffed, jaw clenching in irritation. “Just here for your wonderful personality?”

Your lips twitched, the fainting of a smile, surprising Eddie. “Something like that.” Your lips rolled, twisting back to their resting snarl. “Here for the same reason you are, I guess.” You set the glass on a black napkin, sliding it over to Eddie.

“Yeah, why’s that?”

You cut your eyes towards Mr. Harrington, loudly talking and howling in laughter at the other end of the bar. “Money’s good. Right?” Your eyes squint, nearly in challenge.

“Let me know if you need anything else.” You purred, throwing a wink in his direction. Eddie’s head was spinning, and not only from all the punches he’d taken.

He blamed it on his spinning head clouding his thoughts when he waved you over again, ordered another. And another. And a final one. When his head was swimming, mind a little clouded, nerves a lot calmer, he called you over again.

“Another?” Your brow raised, snagging his empty glass off the counter.

“No.” Eddie shook his head, the ache in his knuckles starting to set in. “What if it wasn’t here that I was fighting?”

“What?” You scoffed. “What are you talking about?”

“You said it was demeaning in here.” Eddie’s finger jabbed the counter for emphasis. “What if it wasn’t here?”

You squinted at him, lips pulling in a line that had his heart skipping. “Are you drunk?” Your voice fell flat, unamused. “Do you need me to call you a ride home-”

“-If it was at a real place.” Eddie continued, eyes never leaving yours, an intensity in them that started and intrigued you. “A real match at a real rink with real people. Nobody betting, just two guys fighting for a title. Would it be demeaning then?”

You paused, watching him carefully, studying him nearly. “I guess not.” You answered cooly, level and calmly.

“So you’d watch that then?”

“What?” You snarled. “Are you alright? Do you need me to call someone, or-”

“-Would you come watch me fight if it was at a real place?” Eddie asked, eyes narrowed in the same way they were before, burning you right to your very core. “In Bloomington in a few weeks.”

Your fingers pressed into your hip, willing yourself to stay composed, not falter though your heart skipped at his ask. “Maybe.” You sighed sharply. “I still don’t get the whole beating each other for fun thing-”

“-You don’t have to.” Eddie rolled his eyes, lighter this time, more playful. “Thanks for the drink.” Eddie pushed his chair back, groaning lowly when he pulled himself out of the bar stool, body stiff and tight. “Sorry for bleeding all over your bar.”

You bit back a smile, fighting the way your lips twitched, tracking him with your eyes. “No problem, Champ.” You quipped, eyes flashing in a daring way that had Eddie smirking, shaking his head.

“See you around.” Eddie waved, one last look over his shoulder that had you burning, turning to empty his glass, hoping to hide your fluster.

You were shocked the next day when two tickets in an envelope were waiting for you in the office, Mr. Harrington’s exaggerated tone about how much Eddie liked you. And he must have, you decided, looking at the small note that had his phone number scribbled at the bottom.

Eddie never heard back from you, let it slip his mind in the next weeks of training. Of course you hadn’t come, why would you have? You made your opinions abundantly clear to him that night.

Still, he was shocked to see you, in the sea of the crowd, sitting in the row by his corner, arms wrapped around your torso, looking a little more than unsure. You even waved at him, small and shy, and Eddie was sure his cheeks were going to split with how wide he smiled.

He invited you back to his locker room after he won, a victory Camel hanging from his busted lip, torso still covered in a sheen of sweat. You had no issues this time when the blood from his busted lip dripped on your sneakers, when it smeared over your own lips when he kissed you, pressed against the cement walls, bruised knuckles and fingers in your hair.

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theyluvlyss · 4 months

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𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐲 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 !

and it's me getting to write henry being a simp🥴🥰. thank you for requesting, I honestly didn't think I'd get any for henry danger, so just this one has me allll /ᐠo⩊oマ !!! So ya, enjoy :).

𝐌𝐢𝐝𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐅𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐬

《 ♡ 》 oneshot

───────── 《 .°•♡•°. 》 ──────────

𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 :

being the girlfriend of swellview's resident sidekick could be tough sometimes. always covering for him, constantly worrying about his safety, forever missing him...

but, regardless, he always made sure to remind you that you are the most important thing in his life. even if he has to wake you out of a dead sleep to do it...

𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 :

fem!girlfriend!reader x henry hart - she/her/hers pronouns! - knows henry's super-identity/works with captain man!

𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐦𝐞 :

during season four (and up) (vaguely) - it's mildly implied to be winter

𝐓𝐖/𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 :

cursing (I think? I don't remember, but just in case lol) - yelling (in a jokey/lighthearted way tho) - henry being so boyfriend - a poison ivy knock-off gets featured in here cuz I thought it would be funny lmao - lmk if I missed anything /ᐠ~˕~マ.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ...𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

───────── 《 .°•♡•°. 》 ──────────

As you stocked shelves and marked down certain pricey items for the holiday's swift approach, you couldn't help but huff. Couldn't help but wonder why it was you had agreed to such a position. Hardly anyone even comes into Junk n' Stuff! Why did you have to play pretend employee for a vacant audience when you could be down in the Mancave with Charlotte and Schwoz, observing and maybe even solving crime and mysteries?

At this point, you might as well have taken real a job at a real shop or store.

But, then again... you were getting the bonus perks of higher pay, given as your boss was a literal superhero. And, because of the fact that the whole of Junk n' Stuff was a front, customers were rare. It was like being on break from three to ten, only ever selling to the occasional old person looking for a rare trinket, or a curious kid looking to resell something "vintage." Whatever the case, you were on your phone for most of the time, and were always happy to work alongside your best friend and your superhero boyfriend.

The third perk, you realized, even if you weren't exactly on the field beside him. You supposed it wasn't all bad. It's not like a lot of other girls had the guilty pleasure of saying the same.

"I work at a fake mom and pop shop that barely gets any customers, but it's okay because it's just a cover up for my boss who's actually Captain Man, and his sidekick, Kid Danger, is actually my boyfriend. My best friend Charlotte and I work to keep him safe every other day, and to top it all off, I get paid more than what my parents make in a week."

You shook your head, huffing to yourself in amusement. Not only was it a mouthful to say, but it sounded insane. Not that you'd ever actually say it to anyone but yourself in your head. But, speaking- er, thinking of...

You pulled your phone from your back pocket, taking your focus off of the box of probably stale snacks you were stacking near the front desk and onto Henry's already open contact. You scanned over your thread of texts between each other, your last message from earlier in the day still left on delivered. You didn't take this to heart, already aware of how busy his missions tended to get. And dangerous, too, hence why you had initially sent...

─────────────────────

my man😙❤️

───────────

Be careful out there today, k?

Ily💞✨️

Delivered

─────────────────────

And sure, after checking now, seeing you'd been left on delivered the whole time mildly stung. But you understood and didn't allow that to be the thing that slightly dampened your mood. Instead, you remained worried for your boyfriend, contemplating if you should send another text his way. Or maybe even call him. Just to see...

You fanned the idea away, setting your phone face down on the floor and continuing to do your "job." Anything to take your mind off of the peril Henry could be facing right now, and the last thing he needed was you distracting him. You wouldn't be needy. At least, not right now. But you'd continue to wonder what was happening, where he was, what dangers he was facing...

"Oh...! (Y/N)."

You turned at the sound of your name, smiling as Charlotte stepped out of the elevator.

"It's past ten, I thought you'd be home by now."

"Me too...!" You sighed, a dry chuckle leaving along with. "I guess I was just subconsciously hoping Ray and Henry would be back by now."

Charlotte gave her own chuckle and an understanding nod at your half-joking confession, moving closer until she was squatted beside and assisting you with the rest of your stocking.

"I wouldn't worry too much. They got this. They always do."

"I know, it's just-"

"-Besides, it's only Greenleaf. And you already know..."

You two shot each other a knowing glance, finishing her sentence at the same time together before laughing.

"...She always folds for Ray."

As you set up the last of the snacks, the two of you stood, cardboard box on your hip while Charlotte had scooped up your phone and handed it back to you.

"You're right, you're right." You admitted, tossing your head from side to side with a shrug. "Plus, I'm pretty sure her goals are relatively Mother Nature related. Can't say I blame her."

"Excatly." Charlotte agreed. "She rarely ever does any real harm, so trust me, Henry will text you back before you know it."

And with that, you two shared your final goodbyes for the evening, and your fret had subsided. Like you said, she was right, Greenleaf more of a particular "low level" classified supervillain, which meant an easy battle. If you'd even call it that. You predicted that right about now, Ray was doing his best to appeal to her charm and romance to subdue her, and though gross... it always seemed to work, so you didn't question it.

With that in mind, you finally decided to call in, clocking out for the evening and daydreaming on the walk home of a hearty dinner, a hot shower, and the warmth and cozy of your bed.

───────── 《 .°•♡•°. 》 ──────────

In the comfort of your room with your nighttime routine accomplished, you remained settled in bed with your eyes glued to your phone. Maybe not the healthiest option, but TikTok was very compelling in the late evenings. Especially when you needed a good laugh or a new song/audio to discover and add to your playlist. You scrolled endlessly, allowing the time to tick by without worry or care because tomorrow (in an hour or two) would be a stress free Saturday.

The millionth swipe upwards of your thumb brought you to your next video, a boy and a girl close in age to yourself participating in a trend that had been circling around for a little bit. It was cute, the way they both adorned wide, cheesy smiles, and their pajamas matched with each other. Even while they performed a popular dance, sticking to routine, you could sense the chemistry they had with one another through the screen. All of it ending with the boy scooping her into his arms, littering kisses across her face that she giggled at over the music.

If anyone asked, you'd be a little embarrassed to admit that you had let the video replay several times before giving it a like and then scrolling away. But, you couldn't - no - wouldn't deny the achy feeling it left you with.

Suddenly, you were no longer laughing at everything you saw and/or heard. No longer wishing to be on the app itself any longer because the ache in your chest was growing too much to bear. Too much for you to ignore, thinking about that random couple and their adorable antics.

How much it reminded you of your own boyfriend; how much you really did miss Henry. It wasn't like you didn't see each other often, practically every day. But it didn't stop you from always wishing to be near him, that he was with you. Family, school, and being a superhero did take up quite a bit of his attention, not that you doubted you were the fourth thing on his list. Selfishly, you assumed the second, at least...

But anyhow, in an attempt to rid yourself of the ache and to refrain from pestering him, you migrated from TikTok to your gallery, scrolling around until you reached a large cluster of pictures and videos from days past.

First thing, you were met with a short thread of silly pictures, Henry striking poses and making faces he'd forbid from showing to anyone, and you immediately sent them to Charlotte and Jasper agreed, for the sake of his dignity. Or just some random action shots, the complete blur of his figure due to moving too fast, which you would keep because they were still funny, after all.

But eventually, you came across a video, it automatically playing as you watched in reminiscence of your time at the mall together. You were both fresh from a Bath & Body Works, your phone's point of view shaking and aimed as though it were snooping around in your bag before pulling away and revealing your hand being held by none other than Henry himself.

"What'd ya' get me?" You chirped as though you hadn't just shown the audience already. But, it was clear you wanted to hear it from him at the time, both past/video and present you giggling at the way Henry shot a smirk your way with eyes that read, "Really?"

"What I always get you." He answered simply, looking ahead as you two walked. "The world."

"Harhar." You could be heard giving an equally sarcastic laugh before adding, "Yes, but specifically this time."

"Boba and (signature/scent)."

Again, both past/video and present you shared another laugh, and you were sure of the fact that you were admiring him shamelessly with your eyes full of love at that moment, just as you were now as the video went on.

"How come?" You pressed with glee, Henry's head shifting back towards you as he spoke.

"'Cause I love you. 'Cause you deserve it. 'Cause it feels gooood."

He laughed along with you at the way he elongated his words at the end of his sentence, a quirk he picked up from who-knows-where that always had you playfully rolling your eyes. In real time, though, the video had ended there, and you were swift to find another one, craving more of that feeling... that mock-comfort of Henry being with you when he actually wasn't.

It was the best you could do, for now, so you'd continue, snuggling deeper into your blankets and pillows while his voice kept ringing out from your phone.

"You smell really good." Was his first comment, ironically per the last video, stated while you admired yourself in selfie mode before switching to the back camera.

He was already stalking closer towards your position on his bed, in his room, before flopping down right into your lap and looking up at you like a puppy.

"And I love your eyes."

"My eyes?" You questioned, as though you were surprised, or as if he should be talking about someone else's.

"Mhm." He nodded slowly. "Your beautiful eyes and those lips of yours. You're too perfect, y'might have to get that checked out or something."

Your laugh at his joking statement caused the camera to shake, and it made you realize that in the moment, you had missed the way he continued to behold you. To cherish the rest of your features and run his hand against your lower stomach as his face flushed with red at the sound of your giggles. Laughter he caused, which made him happy, you assumed, given the way he couldn't even fight his own smile.

You wished you hadn't missed it all at the time, but were glad you were seeing it now; all of his love that then went poured into one gesture before the video ended.

He brought your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles with a gentleness you were still currently missing, the video ending, and the silence of your room setting in.

It didn't help the ache like you thought it would, possibly even making it worse. And because of that, you thought it wise to call it a night, giving your messages one more check before making the last minute choice to send another. A final one for the evening, because at least that would bring you peace of mind.

─────────────────────

my man😙❤️

───────────

Be careful out there today, k?

Ily💞✨️

Delivered

Goodnight

I love you sm<3

❤️✨️

Delivered

─────────────────────

───────── 《 .°•♡•°. 》 ──────────

"So, uhh... you ever try Olive Garden?"

The woman, hair fiery red and a fitted suit made from the vines and plants she created (which were now being chopped away at by police in light of her villainous attempts), shot the man, Captain Man, a look of confusion and disgust. If her wrists hadn't been bound by handcuffs, she'd send another vine after him just for his obliviousness.

"No. I would never in my life..."

She didn't even have to finish her sentence, the tone implying that she wouldn't be caught dead eating from a place that required slaughtering animals and ripping plants from the ground just to serve "fine" cuisine.

"Is Olive Garden not vegan?"

Greenleaf couldn't even fathom a rebuttal to such stupidity, that fact clearly written all over her face as she was hauled away by more policemen. Ray, of course, didn't exactly catch on but jumped at Henry's shout from behind.

"Dude...!" A pause, striking out a hand to further enforce his demand. "Stop flirting with the supervillain...!"

"I'm-! . . ." Ray couldn't even deny that he was doing such a thing (granted, Greenleaf is an attractive woman), but would take advantage of his older age anyhow, pointing an index finger towards his younger partner sternly.

"Mind your business! Unlike you, Kid Danger, I have had the pleasure of time, which has allotted me the grace of perfecting my wit, savvy, and charm, I'll have you know. So-"

He was interrupted by Henry's gloved palm resting against his face, serving as a method to stop him from strolling any closer while Henry casually scrolled through his phone, his tone all the same.

"Hang on, my girlfriend just texted me."

Ray scoffed, seconds away from letting Henry know that he shouldn't be distracted on the job. That is, until he continued to go on with a flat tone, underlying bits of hilarity under it in attempts to get under Ray's skin.

"Y'know, the thing you don't have? The girl I used my natural born wit, savvy, and charm on to win over?"

"I get it!!"

Henry looked up with a smile at Ray's exclamation, innocently nodding with a swift, "Yeah." before putting his attention back to his screen.

─────────────────────

my wife❤️

Be careful out there today, k?

Ily💞✨️

9:23p.m.

Goodnight

I love you sm<3

❤️✨️

11:37p.m.

─────────────────────

What had been giddiness at first morphed into a feeling of guilt, thoughts of your saddened face sinking deep into his brain the moment he realized he had missed your texts. That you had apparently even gone to bed without hearing so much as a word from him all evening.

And sure, he knew you'd probably excuse it the next day, simply telling him that it "was fine" and that you "understood." And while that might be the case, he couldn't help but give in to the thought that you'd much rather have gotten to hear from him tonight. At the very least.

Besides, it's not like he didn't miss you, too. He missed you a lot, actually. You constantly on the brain every single time he fought and/or solved any crime, because if there was one person he'd guarantee the safety of while being in Swellview, it was you. But, along with your safety, he also wanted to make things up to you. He wanted your happiness. And he knew he was one of the sole people who could provide that, therefore...

"Alright, I gotta' get outta' here."

"What?" Captain Man blinked rapidly, unexpecting of Henry's sudden announcement of departure. "No-! No, we have to clean up this mess. Look at all of these vines!"

"Yep, it's...quite the jungle." Henry admitted lacklusterly, nodding to himself before throwing a thumb over his shoulder and slowly backing away. "But, uh, it's Friday, and..."

"Exactly! Friday night, no school, which leaves you plenty of time to help me out. You're on clean-up duty tonight, bud!"

Henry, again, nodded along with Ray's words. He continued to take his giant steps away from the scene, talking fast and only thinking about you in the process, hence why his logic came out a little more than flawed...

"Right, except no, because last I checked, the saying goes, "Blow bubbles fight crime, feels good." Not, "Blow bubbles, fight crime, clean up a mess that's not mine." And, I gotta be honest, that would not feel very good. It would actually feel baaaad, which is exactly how you-know-who is probably feeling right about now..."

"Don't even say her name, kid."

A pause lingered in the air before Henry disobeyed direct instruction.

"I gotta go see (Y/N)."

And he was gone before the conversation could continue, Ray left on his own to help the police with deforesting the city's town hall. And, as much as it behooved him to do so, he couldn't help but admit to himself that if he was still Henry's age with a girl like you, he'd probably do the same.

He huffed, giving his sidekick the benefit of the doubt for tonight.

───────── 《 .°•♡•°. 》 ──────────

Tossing and turning slowly as you woke, you hadn't yet processed what it was that had actually brought you from your slumber until you were fully sitting up in bed, finally able to recognize the sound as a gentle knock.

This then alarmed you, your head whipping around your surroundings in a flurry in an attempt to pinpoint the sound that had spiked up your heart rate in the dead of night. But, once you had managed to place the noise coming from your window, your fear settled into more of a light curiosity and confusion. It brought you from your bed, your feet now met with the cold air around you as you crept forward towards your window.

Steadily pulling back your curtains, your caution slowly turned into joy and surprise, a smile spreading across your face that matched the one on your boyfriend's own face behind the glass.

"Henry...!" You whisper-shouted, his name muffled as he watched you move to unlock your window. He was grateful that you were quick with this action, no longer having to mildly shiver outside while you pulled him through and onto your bedroom floor, admiring his figure in the dimness of your room.

"It's so late, what're you doing here?"

Your question escaped in the midst of a yawn, rubbing the sleep from your eyes while his own darted back to where the clock sat on your nightstand.

12:54a.m.

"I know, I'm sorry, (N/N). I didn't mean to wake you." He apologized, using a nickname that brought another smile to your face once the yawn had passed.

"I just...didn't want you to think I was ignoring you, y'know? I would've answered your texts sooner, I was just-"

"-I know." You cut in with a nod. "I understand, it's okay."

He laughed quietly to himself, all too correct about your compassion when it came to him that he sometimes felt he didn't fully deserve. Like now, keeping his hands hidden behind his back with something that'd hopefully make up for it all.

"It's not, though. I wanna be fair to you with my time. Want you to know that I care about you and that I'll be there for you, whether I'm Kid Danger or just Henry Hart."

"Woah, hey, you're not... just Henry Hart." You corrected, coming closer and placing a tired hand on his shoulder. It was only here that you realized he wore nothing but a white t-shirt, the rest of his super-apparel tied around his waist, red cargo pants and combat boots still intact. Pretty on point symbolism for the moment, if anyone asked you...

"You... are Henry Hart. You're my boyfriend with a lot on your plate, and I know that it's just not fair of me to expect all of your time, which is why I don't. But no matter what, I do love you for giving me whatever you can, so it's very much okay."

You didn't have to be able to see his face clearly to know he was probably just as red as he was in your videos from earlier, his bashful smile going hidden when he let his head drop for just a moment.

"I love you, too." A pause before he quickly debunked your reassurance with some of his own. "And it's not okay, which is why I got you these..."

And suddenly, you realized why he had kept his hands hidden behind him like some wise old man, revealing to you a bouquet of flowers of all kinds. An almost randomized assortment that'd be pretty hard to find in any flower shop. At any shop at all, given...

"Oh my gosh, they're so pretty! It's like, midnight, though, where did you get these?" You squealed quietly, doing your best not to wake up any family in the house while you took the flowers into your hands and admired them the best you could under the moon's light.

"Uhh..."

Henry really didn't know how to answer that, scratching the back of his neck in remembrance of his horrid sneak attempt through his neighbor's backyard.

"I stole 'em." Was what came out way too nonchalantly, leaving you to choke on air while your eyes widened.

"What...?! Henry-!"

"I'm kidding, I didn't steal-... Well... I mean, technically, yes, but not in the way that you're thinking."

"I don't know what I'm thinking...!" You burst through confused laughter. "My boyfriend just told me he stole flowers for me. From where?!"

His eyes shifted from you, to the side, and then back again, folding at the sight of your expecting face looking back up at him.

"My neighbor..." His voice strained quietly, and you could all but sigh and shake your head, letting your nose bury itself back into the makeshift bouquet of freshly stolen flowers.

"That old lady is gonna strangle you with her bare, wrinkly hands."

Henry snorted, sparing you his impulsive thought of the fact she'd have to know it was and catch him first, and instead, fake pain at your light slaps to his chest.

"You're supposed to be a superhero, not a midnight theif...!"

"Hey, c'mon..." He cooed, tugging you closer and smiling when you did begrudgingly move forward towards him.

"...You know I'd go rogue for you any time."

"Y'know, I'm starting to miss Kid Danger." You quipped with a smirk. "At least he'd know better than to pluck flowers from someone's garden."

"Mmm. Fair." He nodded before obnoxiously pushing his forehead up against yours. "But does he kiss you the same way I do?"

"Mmm-"

And before you could pretend to debate the matter, he had done just that, forever gentle with you as he placed his lips on yours and stole any thoughts, stability in your legs, and air in your lungs you had left.

Well, maybe not steal. You'd let him have that any time, the same way he'd bring you flowers at midnight to make up for any of his absences.

Just the thought had you breaking the kiss with another giggle, your turn to grow shy at the attention before you were finally able to fully heal the last little remnants of that ache in your chest.

"You should stay."

You threw it out as a casual suggestion even though you were practically screaming inside for him to say yes. And of course, you got your wish, because what wouldn't he do for you?

"I will."

𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐚 𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭, 𝐬𝐨𝐨𝐨🤭...

but seriously, I really hope you enjoyed, this was super fun and cute for me to write. got me wishing he was under my tree for xmas😔✋🏽.

also, I apologize for this taking as long as it did, there's reasons I have that will be later explained in a separate post/announcement, so ya :'D.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ...𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ...𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 :

@junknstufff

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 :

3,877

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐬 :

none :(

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louscartridge · 3 months

Text

sooooooo who wants me to write some jace norman smut 😁

😁

#jace norman #jace norman x reader #jace norman smut #jace norman x reader smut #henry hart #henry hart x reader #henry hart x reader smut #smut #x reader #x you #ff #fanfic #fanfiction #henry danger #henry danger smut #henry danger x reader #skytalks

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lucifermonsii · 20 days

Note

I don't know if you accept making other content other than call of duty, but here goes. Can you make Francis mosses from not my neighbor with a short male s/o, but who is strong. Can you deny this request if you like!

Have a good day/night!

FRANCIS?? I LOVE HIM.

M!Reader x Francis Mosses

Fighting his doppelganger 🤺

Reader is shorter then Francis

You were a short man.

Really.

It was no joke.

Behind the booth you looked fine, sitting down on the chair that has left your butt imprint from sitting on it so damn long. But whenever you were about to get into your both god damn you were small.

One time Francis was walking to the booth to get inside the apartment, the empty milk carrier swings around his hands as he held it. Dragging his feet to get into his apartment already from the long day of delivering milk.

Henry walked past him and eyed him up amd down with his tired eyes, making sure he wasn't a doppelganger before quickly walking away. Francis simply side glanced in return through half lidded eyes before going to the booth, seeing you struggling to find the key to go inside of it as Henry accidentlaly locked it before leaving.

Keys jumbled against one another as they made key noises. Still struggling to find the correct key with your slender hands, eyebrows furrowing as a feeling or frustration began to creep up on you. An annoyed grunt escapes your lips as you still struggle.

Francis raised an eyebrow at you from behind before walking over to you for assistance.

"M/N, do you need help?"

He asks in a tired tone as his voice is kept smooth, looking down at you through half lidded eyes with a raised eyebrow. You slightly flinching from his sudden appearance as you turn around to look at him, only to be greeted with his chest as you were forced to look up at him. Normally you'd look at with from eye to eye but you're not in your booth right now are you?

"Ah- Francis, you scared me"

You said with a short sigh before realising that he could be a doppelganger, glancing up and down at him to make sure that he's not dangerous. Realising that he hasn't done anything to harm you, yet. Probably. You're not sure either way. Just hoping he's the real one is all.

"You're struggling with the keys"

Slight pink dusted on your cheeks as you felt a bit embarrassed that he had to witness how stupid you were at that moment.

"No need to feel embarrassed with it dear.. "

He says before taking the set of keys from your hands and quickly trying to find the key to your booth, slightly bending over and trying a few keys into the keyhole before eventually finding the right one and putting it into the hole and twisting it as it clicked.

"There we go"

He says as his lips were right next to your ear, his heat radiates off of his body as it made you warm from the cold of the night. Goosebumps crept on your back as blush slightly creep on your neck from the sudden close distance.

"Alright thanks."

You said as he took a few steps back to give you space and handed you back your keys before you went into your booth and let him through. Not long after that an obvious doppelganger showed up, Francis Mosses. Honestly with the unusual face he had if wasn't hard to tell he was a doppelganger with those void eyes and pearly white iris along with the wide mouth.

Pushing the big red button you dialed the D.D.D but before you could even dial the last digit Francis (the doppelganger) came bursting into your booth and attempted to attack you, hell you weren't sure how he got in..

Wait.

Hold on–

Did you even close the door to your booth!?

Dumbass.

He came in and leaped out for you, but you quickly flee out of your booth as it's easy to run from his because of how short you were. Luring him out he followed after you and continued to reach for you and grab you, knowing that you can't possibly pussy out of this and had no choice but to fight him.

He charges forward to grab you but before he could you dodged and forcefully hit your elbow to his back making him stumble forward before swept him off his feet and kick him off, sending him flying across the room before his back landed harshly against the wall and falling. But a few moments later he got up and went after you, being even more aggressive as you added fuel to the fire.

☆

A notification made a groan erupt from Francis's throat as he walked over to his phone on the counter and checked the notification, turns out he got a message from his boss saying that his Co worker couldn't fill in for him as she was sick. Making Francis having to work on his half day off, poor guy.

Wearing his uniform and putting on the milkman hat he took the milk carrier and rode the lift to head out. Walking over to text door that led outside grunts and punching sounds were faint from the inside, raising an eyebrow he got curious. Probably a gang fight or something, he wasn't sure. Suddenly, it went silent. As if all the fighting had stopped, he turned the knob and stepped outside, being met with you kneeling over a corpse of him.

The doppelganger now dead as substances as dark as the void bled out of him as if it were blood, your eyes blown wide as you look up at the real Francis who was staring at you in disbelief. Your forearms stained with said substance as your fists were covered with the black goo, feeling embarrassed that Francis had to see the after math of all of this you quickly stood up and adjusted your tie. Only managing to stain your already stained buttoned up shirt, god damn you felt clumsy around him.

"F- Francis! Why leaving so early?"

You questioned him with an awkward smile as you tried to ignore the scene before him, he simply just glanced back at the dead body before looking back at you.

"Work emergency.."

He murmured before eyeing you up and down, you were a mess. Literally. Stained with the mystery black substance from head to toe, some on your cheeks as you wiped it off and avoid his gaze. Feeling a bit shy due to the silence as if he were judging you with that tired gaze of his.

"I'll be heading out then.."

He said before walking away to go back to work.

#x male reader #male reader #moots #francis mosses #francis mosses x male reader #male reader x francis mosses #Francis #thats not my neighbour #gay #the milkman #milk man #i love francis mosses my precious bb that i wanna rail over

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fandomwritingbit · 11 months

Text

William afton x (fem)reader - scarf

Warnings: smut basically just Will wanking. Dark themes - pervert William, inappropriate relationship. The unfortunate use of a good scarf.

Notes: minimal plot, I wrote this on the train, its barely proofread lmao

"See you later, Mr Emily!" you call over your shoulder, half slinging your jacket and handbag on your arm. It's been a long day, and you were much too eager to get out of this place, making you forget the scarf you'd worn this morning, that hung on a hook shared by some of the staff. It was a thin silky fabric, a gift from a friend and you've worn it pretty much every day since.

"Monday, y/n?" A voice calls after you, stopping you from slipping away out the fire door. You turn to see your other boss, clearly on his way out for a fag, cigarette in hand and all.

"Yeah. No worries. See ya, Mr Afton." You smile politely, hating to be reminded of the extra shift you'd picked up. Then finally making it outside, ready for at least several hours of sleep.

Yeah, you will see him on Monday, where hopefully you'll wear that cheeky little skirt again, Afton thought to himself, smirking. It really had been a pleasure to see you on your hands and knees cleaning up something some trainee had dropped, it left very little to his imagination and that could be a dangerous enough tool on its own. You were fast becoming his favourite thing to see rushing around the restaurant, but he hadn't quite worked on cornering you yet.

He was about to follow your path outside and spark up, but glancing to the left, he saw your forgotten article. Now, what had he done to deserve this? He couldn't help himself from grinning wide, fuck the smoke, he had a better idea. Snatching the scarf from the peg he struggled with the impulse to press it to his nose. Restraint, William, he reminded himself. But that had never been his strong suit.

With it in hand, he left through the fire door, scanning the empty car park, left for his car and Henry's, somewhat appropriately at opposite ends. Henry's right under a light, his in a pitch-black corner which just couldn't be better for what he was about to do. Tucking the now undesired cigarette behind his ear, he slipped in his car, locked the doors, and waited for the interior light to turn itself off.

It was then in the complete dark that he inhaled the scent of you on this scarf, pressing it to his face as his head leant back against the seat rest, sneering into the fabric. The smell of you drove him wild, God he'd been wasting time not calling you into his office and seeing what kind of knickers you had on under that fucking skirt. Holy shit.

Dirty thoughts materialised in his head and with a grunt he unfastened his belt, pulled down his fly and took his cock out. It had been a surprising fair while since he had last done this and in consequence, he found himself impatient. Breathing in your smell, he could almost taste you. You sweet, pretty little thing, you probably had no idea how just the small 'how are you's had driven him to stroking his cock with your scarf in his face like some kind of creep. Feeling himself close, his pace was rough with himself. God he was a fucking pervert, but he didn't feel the guilt he should, he'll he celebrated it because he knew he had a talent for making cute pieces like you into perverts too.

It was easy to imagine you on top of him, his hand on your throat, moving your body just how he wanted it. You clawing at him. He could make you scream, hate him and thank him all at the same time.

Pulling your scarf from his face, he bucked into his hand, biting the inside of his cheek to muffle the groan of him falling over the edge. He hadn't thought to get a tissue or something to the liking and shoved your garment into his lap to collect his release.

His head hit the headrest again, a half-smirk half-scowl on his face. He chuckled, well, you certainly weren't getting this back now.

#fnaf william afton #william afton x reader #william afton smut #fnaf smut #william afton x you #fnaf x reader #afab reader

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hyperfixated-on-hensper · 2 years

Text

I'm rewatching the Rubber Duck episode and like- how come nobody talks about the fact that Henry canonly has recurring dreams about his dream girl turning into Jasper every night- like boi, that's you subconscious trying to tell you something

#henry danger #jasper dunlop #henry hart #kid danger #boii you fruity #you cannot tell me henry isnt a bisexual #hes so far into the closet he doesnt even know #hensper #jenry #henry x jasper #dude ur a lil gay for your bestie

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callmemaeverick · 1 year

Text

Dangerous Games [Sherlock Holmes x fem!Reader]

A/N: This little oneshot has been playing in my head since the release and I had to get to get it out. Forewarning, this is unbeta’d AND non-period accurate. I am not a Brit, nor am I from that era, though I like to pretend. I just like Henry as Sherlock and I like whump, so when he was shot, well, this came out of it.

Summary: You are Mrs Hudson’s niece and you were at your aunt’s for your monthly visit, when you heard her favourite tenant stumble through the door

You knew of him, of course. How could you not? He had commanded attention and admiration wherever he went. And that case Basilweather case a few months ago made him even more popular. But you knew him not as the brilliant detective. No. You knew him as your aunt’s reclusive tenant.

Sherlock Holmes.

He was definitely a character, you decided. Sharp as a tack and not a bad violinist. But he was also blunt and straightforward, sometimes to the point of rudeness. You could recall a time or two where his unsolicited remarks and astute observations made you clench your fists and narrow your eyes at him.

And then there’s the constant revolving door of guests, wanted and unwanted, going up and down the stairs to his flat cum office cum lab cum whatever else. It was very irritating for one looking for a peaceful afternoon with one’s reading.

Your aunt loves him though. Dotes on him as if he was her own. You knew he had helped her with something serious, but no matter how many times you asked, she wouldn’t tell you what. It sometimes drives you mad, but deep down you were grateful he was there to help.

So, despite his apparent lack of empathy, you knew he was a good man. Which was the only reason you put up with him.

xxxx

“You’re an idiot, Sherlock Holmes,” You hissed as you pulled the thread stitching his skin back together.

Judging by the quirk of his eyebrow, you knew it was not something he hears often. In fact, most of the time, it was probably the exact opposite. But you were undeterred, especially since he almost gave you a heart attack, walking through the front door limping and covered in blood.

“Do I want to know the reason you decided to forego a hospital and the attention of a real doctor?”

Sherlock grunted at a particular sharp tug of the suture but did not pull away from your hand. "And miss out on your charming company? Never."

Rolling your eyes at his snark, you returned your focus to the gunshot wound. "Don’t be glib with me, you know it doesn’t work. And it’s not like you couldn’t afford the hospital, so tell me what’s going on?”

When your question was left unanswered, you finished off the last suture and looked up, just to find that his attention was no longer on you but on his map over your shoulder, still cluttered with notes. Frowning, you shifted to block his line of sight. “Sherlock?”

“I had to know.” There was no trace of jest in his voice anymore.

“Know what?”

“I had to know how deep the corruption goes. Her web. I need to know what she’s involved in.”

“She? Enola?” You referred to his young sister, someone you had just met a few days ago helping the man before you up the stairs. She endeared herself to you quite quickly, you realized, as you felt your concern for the Holmes’ siblings grow.

“No. Mira Troy. Moriarty.”

You scoffed at the clever wordplay and turned to look at the map behind you. The name was written clearly on one of the cards.

“She could have died… Enola.” He clarified before you asked. “Had the knife been real, she could've…”

You didn’t know what had truly happened and you suspect you might never will. But you knew it had shaken him quite seriously.

“Sherlock, hey, look at me,” You called, turning back to him. You waited until he pulled his eyes to yours, until you could see the slight discoloration in his left iris. “She is safe, hm? She is sleeping, right in there.” You motioned to his bedroom. "You need not worry."

His gaze moved to his closed door as if he could see right through the wood.

“I just got her.”

“And you’re scared you’re going to lose her.”

“Yes.”

You smiled at the sentiment in his soft voice. He wasn’t as unfeeling as he would like people to think him to be. “You’ve changed, Sherlock Holmes.”

He hummed, coming to the same conclusion. “Perhaps.”

“Give her some credit, Sherlock. She’s tougher than she looks.”

He was silent as he contemplated your words and you didn’t know what he was seeing as he turned to look at you but you refused to break under his stare.

“Like you?"

Heat tinged your cheeks at the sincere mirth dancing in his eyes. It hadn't escaped your begrudging notice that Sherlock Holmes is an attractive man, all wide, strong shoulders and deep voice. It also didn’t help that he was indeed one of the most intelligent man you’ve met.

The feel of his soft touch on the back of your hand stole your attention and your breath stuttered in your lungs when you saw that your hand were clasped overtop his. You didn’t know when you had reached out to him, but what shocked you more was that you felt comfortable enough that the action did not even register to you.

You could only watch as he leaned a little bit closer, grunting with the effort. His head dipped to where his thumb was tracing your knuckles. “My sister believes I’m alone here. In need of a companion."

"Is that," Your voice had dropped to a whisper, as if you were sharing a secret, so you cleared your throat to return it back to normal. "your way of asking me to be your friend?"

Sherlock looked up at you and you froze at the look in his eyes. Heart beating wildly in your chest, you followed his gaze as it dropped to your lips. "Not a friend." He said.

You opened your mouth to respond.

"Sherlock?"

The call of his name might as well be a clap of thunder with the way you both jumped apart at the sound of it. And in that instance, the moment was gone. Blood rushing to your face in embarrassment, the both of you awkwardly stood to face Enola, coming out of the room.

"Are you two alright?" She asked taking in the sight of you, wide eyed and flushed, and Sherlock, shirtless and bloodied. "I heard-"

"Y-yes. I was just... leaving." You sidestepped the man before you and headed for the door, highly aware said man following closely behind.

He called your name, exasperation in his tone, but you ignored it.

"Keep the wound and stiches dry and you'd be right as rain in a few days." Over his shoulder, you smiled at his sister. "You take care of yourself, Enola. If you still feel dizzy and nauseous, have your brother take you to the hospital, alright?" Finally meeting his eyes, you tried to convey what your lips hadn't had the chance to.

"Goodnight, Mr Holmes."

His lips twitched at the game you had initiated. He inclined his head in reply.

The game is on.

Part II

#sherlock holmes #henry cavill #enola holmes #enola holmes 2 #sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock holmes imagine #enola holmes 2 spoilers #dangerous games #mav's posts

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delfiore · 8 months

Text

—MY DEAREST FRIEND AND ENEMY. (1/5)

pairing: ona batlle x fem!reader

synopsis: you were ona’s biggest headache at man united, until you both move to barcelona.

word count: 3.7k

a/n: i’ve been watching the men’s game for years but i’ve finally sobered FINAL TODAY LET’S GO ENGLAND LET’S GO SPAIN (MOSTLY SPAIN)

PART II, PART III, PART IV, PART V

It started four years ago when Ona first signed for United. She didn’t notice at first the way you were always gunning for her, she was just doing her job.

But now, you were here in Barcelona with her. As she looked up at you, a soft smile on your face, everything she had buried in the past year all came rushing back.

Everyone was aware of the new signing from the States for her rival club just a couple of weeks before, a dragged-out saga of whether you were going to choose City or United. Unfortunately for her, you chose the Sky Blues.

If things had been different, maybe she wouldn’t have despised you as much as she did.

The first Manchester derby you played, she thought marking you would be easy until you dribbled past her several times to register a goal and assist. She must have been glowering at you when she walked back to the midfield line, because you shrugged before grinning at her, saying: “All in a day’s work.”

“Could I just ask what put Man City above all the other contenders for your signature?” “Well, I mean, it’s a great club with a great history, amazing players too. I’ve spoken at length with the new manager and he gave me a rough plan for next year’s project. So I’m really excited and confident that it’ll be a great destination for me.” “What do you say to the people who think you’ve chosen City for the money?” “People can think whatever they want to think. I’ll just play my game, and they can judge me all they want. It’s all anyone’s good for.” “You’ve just transferred from Portland, you’ve got an enormous price tag for the women’s game, tons of big clubs in Europe wanted you. There’s a mounting pressure on you, it seems. Do you think you’ll be up for the challenge of the Women’s Super League?” “It’s no fun if it’s not a challenge.”

Ona Batlle was what people considered a modern full-back, dangerous in attack just as she was solid in defense. But when playing against Man City, she usually has to stay back to avoid a dangerous winger finding their way into the box; you. It wasn’t her way of playing, and it frustrated her that that was what her role was while her team was struggling to create chances, especially when she knew she could help.

“I want you to stay back and mark Y/L/N. Whatever you do, do not let her out of your sight,” Casey had told her.

She hated you for caging her in, and the worst part was she wasn’t sure if she can stop you sometimes.

The night before her next game against you, she watched how you played the previous match, studied your movement carefully, and took notes. She liked that she had found a pattern. You liked to use your speed, but you also liked to taunt your defenders; a pace of prime Thierry Henry’s, and showboating tendencies like that of Neymar. It’s why you were so entertaining to watch, because every defender you faced ended up a sort of decoration to your parlor tricks, her included.

Ona never liked being second best to anybody, and certainly not to you.

And so when she was on the pitch, zeroing on you like a hawk, there was nothing stopping her from getting away from you. She didn’t need to resort to any risky challenges, she just needed to stick with you, keep you at arm’s length, and stay between you and the goal at all costs.

You may be a skilled player for your age, but controlling your temper is something you haven’t been able to achieve. She heard you cursing a few times, eventually earning you a yellow card when your insults were directed at the referee.

The ball had only left the City’s goalkeeper, Roebuck, yet she already felt you pushing back against her.

The game ended 3-1 for United, but she was secretly much happier that she had managed to piss you off so much, that you didn’t bother shaking hands with her afterwards.

“Congratulations, Ona. A huge victory for United. What do you think went well today?” “I think that our plans worked because we practiced and showed what we’re able to do. We didn’t have a lot of possession, but we focused on the counterattacks, and I think that definitely was a very effective tactic today.” “I have to ask you about Y/N Y/L/N. She’s been a formidable player in the league until now, and notoriously difficult to defend against, but she was practically silenced today on the left-hand side. Do you think you had something to do with that?” “I think what I’ve prepared in defense has worked out, for sure. I’ve also got my teammates to thank for covering the grounds for me. Y/L/N is a good player, and it’s always a joy to play against her.”

Her rivalry with you continued, and soon even the press was picking up on it. Manchester derbies now included Y/L/N v. Batlle, and everyone was predicting what crazy thing would happen next. It wasn’t common for defenders to make waves in the paper compared to superstar strikers or even midfielders unless they were linked with a big move. But soon Ona was reading about herself in the news, how she has defended Manchester United’s left wing with an iron grip, how they started calling her la matadora, for her ability to hold off forwards and tame them like bullfighters do.

One bull remained to be tamed though, and her conundrum continued into her second season at United.

Unlike her, you seemed to take the new breath of fame easily enough. Day in and day out, there were news of you scoring goals and bringing Man City to the top of the table by November.

You were born to be a star.

But Ona knew from shooting stars in the game that burned out too quickly; if you let what’s outside the pitch get to you, you might as well just leave it altogether. You might have been a good player, on your way to becoming a great one even, but you did have a flare for the dramatics which riled up the press quite a bit. If she was lucky, maybe the pressure would take you out of the game before she does.

International breaks were times she always look forward to, being able to represent her country. Even if they were friendly matches, she knew Spain was always being watched, as a team’s form was important on the world stage. The team would play two friendly matches, the first one being against Brazil and the other against the United States. Some friendly fixtures . . .

Brazil was a breeze, mainly because she wouldn’t have to face her biggest adversary. Naturally, you were called up to your national team, and the back-and-forth game persisted.

She had played against you many times at club level, but the way you played for your country was something else. There was more passion to the way you weave your way through defenders, more flare to your shots. It could also be the adrenaline of being called up for the first time, and wanting to prove yourself—she knew that feeling well.

It didn’t come as a surprise, then, that when a long ball was played over the defense line and Marta Cardona was on her way towards goal, you’d be there to strike her down right at the edge of the box. Her teammates appealed, and the referee paused the game, but all Ona saw was red. With a speed she didn’t know she had in her, she sprinted to you and shoved you away as you were bending down in a show of checking on Marta.

“What was that?! You could have broken her ankle, cabrona!”

“Watch it.”

You had never seen her so angry before—her jaw locked as she continued to hurl insults at you. If she wasn’t your mortal enemy maybe you could have found it attractive. So you pushed back, and soon both your teammates and hers crowded around you, trying to separate you. Kelley put her arm around your neck and walked away, telling you to “keep your cool, this is only a friendly”.

Never, you thought. Never while I’m playing against her.

You apologized to Marta eventually, and she was cool with it. “Heat of the moment”, she said, and you were grateful. You never meant to hurt anyone. Sometimes you just couldn’t control your adrenaline spike.

As expected, Ona didn’t even look at you after the match. So you went home with Marta.

The next morning at breakfast, Ona heard laughing from the girls surrounding Marta.

“How was your American late-night snack, Marta?” Leila laughed.

The girl only shook her head with a grin. “It was delicious, alright.”

Ona didn’t know what that twisted feeling in her gut was when she heard what Marta said, as she walked back to her hotel room after breakfast. She just knew that as long as she was alive, you were the most despicable person she knew.

ESPN: Y/L/N-Batlle Feud Continues, Bonmatí Controls Midfield in Spain-USWNT Clash “LOS ANGELES -- Thursday night saw a friendly match between Spain’s women's national team and the USWNT at the Snapdragon Stadium that ended in a 2-2 draw. Several debutants started for both teams, including Man City powerhouse Y/N Y/L/N. After a stunning cross into the box from the left for Mallory Pugh to tap in, a dangerous slide tackle on Marta Cardona ensured Y/L/N to be the heart of a confrontation between several players, including Ona Batlle. It seems their club rivalry persists as they were seen giving each other a very clear piece of their minds, and several clashes succeeded the Cardona tackle. It would have been a good performance for both if not for the slip of attitude. One thing is clear, though; the mentality is there, and it sure is entertaining to watch. […]”

The end of the season was fast approaching, and while you had become a thorn in her side, it came to a point in which she would not think about you until a week before a clash. This one in particular was crucial in the race for a Champions League spot that both Manchester clubs were vying for. She knew what it meant for the club to secure a UCL spot for the first time, and you were not about to ruin it for her.

Tooney and Millie invited her out for dinner the night before the derby, but she turned them down, opting for a quiet night in instead. After a few hours, however, she suddenly felt antsy, the anticipation before the game nipping at her. It was only 7pm when she checked and she decided to go for a run. She followed the familiar path she always takes to the nearby park, and she was glad she did because the sun was going down, leaving a glorious trail of orange in the sky. She loved these peaceful moments, away from adrenaline, away from the constant pressure, away from constantly having to push herself or she’d be called ‘lazy’.

A constant huffing sound appeared next to her, and when Ona looked down she saw an adorable corgi looking up at her while wagging its tail.

“Hello,” she bent down and pet the dog. Loving the attention, the little corgi jumped up in an attempt to lick her face, to which she let out a laugh.

“Bratwurst! Come back here!” She heard a voice call in the distance, which she assumed must have been the owner. “Sorry, he loves people.”

Ona looked up, and her face dropped. You did the same, standing frozen in front of her. Bratwurst was jumping up and down before you, probably excited that he received pets from someone else today.

She had never seen you in plain clothes before. You clearly knew how to dress yourself, because she might have admitted that you looked good if she didn’t hate you so much. But it was difficult to see you as anything else other than Y/N Y/L/N, Manchester City winger, and potentially Golden Boot winner this season by the looks of it.

And yet, she sat down on a nearby bench with you anyway, watching Bratwurst stick his butt in the air, attempting to catch a squirrel.

“I named him Bratwurst ‘cause he’s . . . long, you know?” You chuckled. ”Short form is Brat too, that’s kinda funny.”

In a sea of northern Englishmen, she never got to hear your American accent properly as she’d only heard you speak no more than two words to her, and most of the time they weren’t pleasant.

“How do you have time to own a dog?” She asked.

“He’s a foster. I just got him a couple of weeks ago.” You looked down at your fingers. “It’s nice to have him to come home to.”

The conversation died down, and suddenly Ona felt like this was a mistake. Maybe she should just leave, and continue her run. But she saw a different side to you—a gentler, quieter side unlike the boastful player she knew you as—and she wasn’t sure whether it was a good thing or not.

“Are you planning on adopting him permanently?”

“Maybe. I just want to make sure that I’m settled before making him move.”

You leaned back, placed your arm on the bench, and closed your eyes.

“You don’t want to stay in Manchester?”

“I don’t know yet. Why, would you be happy if I did?” You smirked, and she saw a glimpse of that player again.

Yes. “Your presence doesn’t bother me. It doesn’t bring me any joy either.”

“Just face it, Batlle.” You turned your body to her. “I get under your skin, don’t I?”

Ona blinked, her jaw clenching. “You don’t intimidate me, Y/L/N. You might be used to people bowing at your feet, but I won’t let you walk all over me. We will win tomorrow, and you might think to show some respect for others in the game.”

“Sorry, Batlle, can’t let you win. We’re playing Champions League next season.” You really enjoyed taunting her.

Ona huffed and stood up. As she walked away, she heard you call out to her. “See you on the pitch tomorrow, la matadora!”

There was nothing you could ever do to make yourself less hateful in her eyes.

It was matchday, kick-off time. Ona saw you on the other side of the midfield line. “Remember what you came here to do, and finish the job,” Marc had told them in the dressing room. He was right. She had a job to do, and she wasn’t about to let you ruin that for her.

They were to play with a high line today, which required Ona to stay near the midfield line and run back, should a forward slip through. About halfway through the first half, she had a startling realization; you were dropping back too, playing a number-10 role. It meant that she couldn’t do what she did last time you met, because there would be a gaping hole where she covers.

United was leading 1-0 by halftime, and while they had the advantage, the fight was far from over.

“Okay, ladies. Have a drink and take a seat,” Marc stood at the front of the dressing room. “We’re doing good, we’re holding them off. Keep up the pressure.”

Ona sat back to catch her breath. You were much more versatile than she thought, and maybe that was her mistake for underestimating you. It seemed too easy that you were giving her exactly what she wanted, playing high at the flank like she always does. There was more to it, but she needed to adapt.

Ona held your gaze for a moment across the field. You weren’t giving up. It seemed you were confident enough in whatever wicked plan you still had up your sleeve, that you sent her a smirk back.

It was the 70th minute of the game and they were so close to achieving it. Katie was looking for a pass, so Ona made herself available.

There was empty space near the side of the box, and she wanted to utilize it but it meant having to get past a couple of defenders.

“Vilde! 1, 2!” She called, passed the ball to her teammate, and started running. Her momentum was halted when Vilde’s ball was cut off and instantly launched forward.

The counterattack came so quickly, it must have been what you practiced. 1-1.

Suddenly, the tides have shifted. The momentum was with City. Time was running out, and the sudden goal disoriented her team. It took about five minutes for everyone to get their head back into the game, but Ona could tell City were used to having possession by then.

And then, in the 88th minute, you were given the ball from the left. Everyone except Alessia had dropped back to defend a series of dangerous balls up until now. You didn’t have anyone to pass to without getting intercepted, and you were outside of the box. So you took the shot. She watched helplessly as the ball flew past Mary into the top right corner.

1-2.

Ona’s body ran cold as she watched you celebrate with your teammates.

When the final whistle came shortly after, she collapsed on her knees.

Some of her teammates were there to console her, but she let their comfort pass through her. She needed to break something.

She needed to get away from everyone and found a spot near the bathrooms where she could catch her breath. Her boots were dangling from her hand by the laces. She slumped against a wall and began to cry, the boots clattering next to her on the floor.

It wasn’t that she was sad to have lost—she blamed herself for letting you get to her head. The interaction of the day before got her thinking what ifs. What if we didn’t meet under these circumstances? What if I could have just gotten to know you without wanting to rip your head off every time I see you?

You heard quiet sobs down the hallway and knew it was her. You had quickly gone into the tunnel when you didn’t see her anywhere on the pitch, but you certainly weren’t expecting to see her cry.

“Batlle?” You called.

She didn’t seem to notice you, sitting against the wall and wiping her face with her shirt.

“Hey, it’s okay.” That was a stupid thing to say considering you just beat her out of a Champions League spot, of course it’s not okay.

“I’m really not in the mood,” she said, looking away.

“You did good out there,” you said, watching her anxiously.

“Don’t act like you care,” she sniffled. “You got what you wanted.”

“I’m not as heartless as you think, Ona.” You quipped back. “I’m not sorry that we won, but I am sorry that you’re hurt.”

“Why are you doing this to me?” She sobbed and glared at you. It sent a chill down your bones. “I wish we had never met.”

How do you tell her that you never meant for things to go this way? That every word you had ever said to her didn’t stem from malice but from fear? You had wished to push her away so that you don’t collide with her head-on. How do you tell her that no matter how hard you tried, you still gravitated toward her?

“I’m sorry.” You repeated, like a fool.

She was hurting because of you.

You snuck a glance at the form of the girl in front of you, like you would be penalized if you were caught looking at her. You took a step back to go, but she held onto your arm and pulled your body against her.

You had been fantasizing about having your mouth against her for months, usually in absurd circumstances, like you two making out in a bed of roses or you giving her a kiss after she, a masked superhero, saved you from danger. Never like this, muscles aching, sweat coating your foreheads, wearing your respective uniforms—being so you doing this.

You wanted to enjoy it. Her lips were soft and salty, and she might have secured you by the waist against her. Your knees trembled as you sighed into her lips, pushing her against the wall gently. Your hesitancy soon turned into hunger, as you pressed your body into hers, desperate to feel her.

Murmurs in the distance snapped you out of it. “Where’s Ona?” You made out one of the voices saying.

You looked back at her, your faces just inches away. You never noticed, but she had so many beautiful freckles adorning her face.

“Ona—“ You said, but she quickly picked up her boots and left towards the voices.

Chest heaving and head spinning, you slumped against the wall with a small grin, bringing your fingers up to touch your lips where she had been.

“Where have you been?” Keira asked in the dressing room, but you just shook your head.

“Just to the bathroom.”

Sky Sports: Man City’s Talisman Y/N Y/L/N Nets Stunning Late Goal Against Man United To Secure UWCL Spot […]

a/n: this gif is so y/n and ona coded

#ona batlle x reader #ona batlle imagine #ona batlle imagines #ona batlle #woso #woso x reader #woso imagines #wwc23 #spain wnt #man united women

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