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genshrineimpact · 2 years

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universe abound

| ◆ ch.1 ⑊ the end of the road.

⬙⤠ masterlist ⤝⬙

◇ a/n ◇ caution - word vomit below. not proofread. i was just suddenly hit with this idea for a sagau and i just had to write down this prologue sort of thing.... so here you go lol should explore this further? with the amount of sagau fics already circulating i doubt we need another one but.... lemme know lol

the year is 205X.

it’s finally here.

the last day - no, the last few hours - until the genshin servers will be shut down and decommissioned, forever.

it’s been a long journey. for you and for billions of other people.

you gaze sadly at the familiar loading screen, unchanged despite many years of playing the game. the memory of when you first opened the game flashes in your mind. humming along with the melody, you patiently wait until the loading finishes, before entering the world of teyvat.

for the last time.

wanting to go out with a bang, the developers had created a final event, which spanned across the whole teyvat. they’ve pulled all the stops this time, if the whole 600GB worth of pre-installations scattered across the few months leading to this very moment was any indicator of how much work had gone into this celebration. every nations had received an update and their own special events, where players are free to explore and reminisce.

you’ve had your utmost fun for the past month, enjoyed everything they offered, uncovered every single easter eggs, listened to all the dialogs. and so…

now, for the last day, you just wish to be here. with the countdown livestream open on your other monitor and the game on your primary screen, you lean back on your seat, and bask in the atmosphere of the game.

because this will really be the last time. after today, you won’t be able to experience the game like this anymore. not that you have much time to spare now - you’re not young anymore, and you have your responsibilities… but just for today, you wish to be selfish. to give in to your inner child and give attention to the game that you’ve loved over the years - still love, honestly.

as usual, time passes for far too fast to your liking. you sigh when the countdown timer shows that it’s fifteen minutes away from the shutdown.

you smile and suddenly remember the old times where you used to religiously watch the character demos. the nostalgic excitement you get whenever a new character was introduced. you grin and decide to come back and rewatch zhongli’s trailer. hey, gotta keep the tradition, right?

ten minutes.

speaking of, you’ll also miss the livestreams. there will be no more new events, no more hearing the voice actors bickering and talking with each other. not that you’ve watched every single ones of the last few streams. ah well, life happens. you can always rewatch it later when you're free.

five minutes.

actually, now that you really think about it, you think you might not even remember some details about quite a few things anymore. granted, you still remember the main storyline, but it’s hard to remember all the details from over the past thirty years since you started playing the game.

naturally, you still remember your most beloved characters and a little bit more details about the more ‘recent’ story lines nearing the ending of the game. still, the younger you would have scoffed and called you a forgetful boomer if they see you now. you chuckle in amusement at the thought.

one minute.

you straighten your back and eyed the livestream chat window. everyone is going crazy, spamming hearts and crying emojis. occasionally you see super long messages of what probably is a very heartfelt message, but it zooms past the screen in one mere second as more emojis flooded the chat.

fifty seconds.

with a sigh, you bring the traveler into your party, opting to go for the twin you chose at the beginning of the game. the game had given you the other twin upon completion, but for sentimentality sake, at the end of this road, you want to go right back at the beginning.

thirty seconds.

you teleport onto your favorite landmark and sigh once more, moving your camera around to enjoy the sceneries. teyvat has always been beautiful, and the graphics in-game had improved even more over the past thirty years. it still isn’t hyperrealistic in any way, but it has always had its own charm nonetheless.

twenty seconds.

the traveller does an idle animation. you think back to your favorite characters’ idle animations, voicelines, outfits - and suddenly you giggle. it feels like yesterday that the first five-star outfit was just released. you remember frothing along with everyone else when you saw the announcement. diluc, was it? you can’t remember the outfit name, but you do remember the fiery red that contrasted his old black coat. since then, so much more five-star outfits had been released. you’ve lost count of how many in total there are.

ten seconds.

you inhale deeply and close your eyes for a moment, before opening them again, vision a little glazed over from the unshed tears that’s suddenly pooling into your eyes. you wipe them away, laughing at how pathetic you were being. but then again, billions of people are probably crying too, you suppose.

five.

gosh, how embarrassing. you’re a full-on adult now. one that shouldn’t cry over a fictional video game. with a determined smile, you huff and watch the number go down.

four.

three.

two.

briefly, you glance towards the game’s screen and mutter a soft goodbye. the gratitude stays in your heart, but you’d like to think it doesn’t need to be said out loud.

one.

zero.

…

….. huh?

you blink. rub your eyes. blink a few more times for good measures and squint at the screen.

nope. the game’s still there. it’s still running.

you try to move the traveller. their idle animation cancels, and they obediently move towards the direction you want them to go to. utterly confused, you open the menus, the map, and teleport to the other cities - all the while expecting things to glitch and go haywire anytime soon.

it…. runs just fine.

your first thought is that hoyoverse was fucking with you all.

you switch your gaze towards your second monitor, seeing the livestream chats spamming teary emojis and goodbyes and ‘it’s over’s.

you turn to the social media. you’re not signed in, and you have to fiddle with it for a bit but when you can finally see the topic for the game, you see the official announcement at the very top from the company itself, thanking everyone and saying that the server has successfully been decommissioned. below that, it’s full of people’s photos of blank screens and error pop ups and long tearful messages about how they’re so sad that the game has finally ended after all this time.

but it isn’t, right? otherwise how can you still play the game?

"what the fuck….?"

you stare at the screen. the traveller is still looking off into the distance. you’ve checked and all the characters you have are still there. the cities are fine. the ping shows the usual amount of delay. everything is…. normal.

maybe it’s just some kind of a cache…? then again, it doesn’t seem like anyone else is experiencing it. should you ask hoyoverse? will they even spare you a glance? should you post online about it?

…. but…... why should you?

it’s a good thing, right? if the game is somehow still there, then it’s good for you, right? what if you post about it online and someone from the developers approached you about it and accuses you of illegally downloading the game data or something? what if you get sued?? you have zero idea about how all these stuff work!

you glance at the clock. it’s getting really late.

with a sigh, you decide to turn off the electronics and get a good rest for the day. your back is already aching and your head feels heavy with fatigue.

you’ll think more about it tomorrow.

little did you know, everything you’ve experienced so far was merely a prologue of the actual main story.

and this time, a new story will unfold - with you as its main character.

© genshrineimpact | 2022 ◆ no repost. reblogs much appreciated - it's the least you could do as a reader on tumblr. remember, likes do nothing on this website! feel free to reach out to submit suggestions, feedback, comments, or if you just want to talk!

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #sagau #genshin impact x reader #rin writes #universe abound

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orbital-inclination · 2 years

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“What I Never Told You”

On edge after entering an AU over-saturated with positivity, and unable to leave it, Dream and his brother have an argument. A long overdue argument. Part 1 (you are here), 2.

Notes: Moltendreams!AU. Set some time after the brothers left Dreamtale during a time when they were still unfamiliar with the multiverse. General warnings for: dreamtale typical angst/drama, references to past emotional manipulation and bullying. Wordcount: 2304

“Two paces. The rocks turn into pebbles on your left. It’s slippery.”

Dream nodded, and then because he wasn’t sure if Nightmare saw him or not, made a small noise of acknowledgment. He slid his foot forward, arms outstretched for balance, and gingerly took one step, then another. The stones of the river bank were smooth and round and as loose as a free-roaming egg on a table. He nearly stumbled when the rock underneath his foot dipped forward, but the writhing mass on his back pulled his weight backward and Dream found his footing on the steady wet crunch of gravel.

“How wide is the river?” Dream asked. He angled his skull, slightly canted in the direction of the cold patch of air a few paces in front of him. A dense cold spot usually indicated where his brother stood. Melancholy clung to Nightmare like morning dew. Even on days when his brother felt calm and focused, that heavy feeling was a breath away. He followed his brother’s line of focus, but could no more sense the river than see it. The river babbled gently, and the pebbles underneath his feet sloshed so he knew he was at the water’s edge. Here the water was slow. Turn his skull in the opposite direction, however, and the playful sound grew louder. “I don’t think a tree could stretch across it,” Nightmare said after a moment. “We will either have to find a bridge or follow the river until it narrows.” Dream tried to picture a span of water so wide a tree could not bridge the distance. He could not. “Is it deep?” “I can’t see the bottom. Do you remember how far it was, from the top of mother’s hill to the village?” Dream stared into the patch of watercolor darkness, where his brother stood, awed. Was it possible to build a bridge at that scale? “Are you sure you can’t teleport us across it?” Nightmare groaned, exasperated. “Dream, if I couldn’t teleport ten minutes ago, why would I have the ability to now?” “We’re farther away from town,” Dream argued. “With fewer souls nearby, the feeling should be less potent.” But now, Nightmare was exasperated and slightly irritated. “There’s too much positivity. Even here. At this point, I’m starting to think it’s a byproduct of the world itself, over its inhabitants.” This was becoming a problem. It wasn’t as though this world was devoid of negativity. And Nightmare would not have brought them here if the world had felt too dangerous for him. But that quickly changed. His brother was vulnerable without a significant source of negativity nearby. (Never mind mobility issues) So they’d fled into the forest. It didn’t feel safe in town and finding a cure for the curse came second to keeping each other safe. (Dream would have protected him. Blind or not, he was determined to. But Nightmare felt he shouldn’t have to. And anyway, neither of them felt comfortable around large crowds.) “I can’t but you could. I don’t need to tell you how strong you are right now,” Nightmare said. “If I tell you how far to go and point you in the right direction-“ Dream quickly shook his head. The ambient positivity here was just as much a problem for him as it was for Nightmare. There was nothing he could use as a point of reference because of it. (except for his brother but Dream did not like the idea of traveling so far away from him.) How far was too far? How far was not far enough? All directions felt the same. The idea of teleporting now, without a solid anchor made him feel lightheaded. “A bridge it is then.” Nightmare said, snidely. Dream felt as though he had lost two arguments instead of one. And maybe he had. Nightmare led him along the shoreline, commenting on obstacles but didn’t offer his opinion on anything remotely interesting until Dream got tired of hearing the same thing over and over again, and said. “Describe where we’re going. We ran down a hill to get away from town but the forest leveled out. The river is louder now. Are we traveling upstream or down?” “Down.” A spike of irritation. “The incline is subtle, but I believe the river is leading us into a valley. I can make out distant hills over the trees. No mountains. The horizon is crowned in green.” “That sounded like a line from one of your poems...” His brother stopped. “… you remember that?” “Of course I do!” It had been a long time since Nightmare had last recited his work, but Dream remembered. Nightmare used to write poetry almost as much as he read books. He stopped sharing them, at some point, years and years ago. He hadn’t heard one of Nightmare’s poems since... “I didn’t know you cared enough to remember.” Dream balked. “Why would you think that?”

Distressingly, Nightmare scoffed. “You were always helping someone from the village. I didn’t see you much.” Dream opened his mouth to protest but found himself clicking his teeth shut. The villagers had kept him busy. He couldn’t deny that. From sunrise to dusk there was always something to be done. An injury to mend. Attention to give. A ceremony to attend. Gradually, it became harder and harder to say no. A pit formed in his chest and Dream shook himself before the dark feeling could take root. He refused to let the feeling take hold. What right did he have to feel unhappy? It wasn’t like he had been mistreated. “I found time,” he insisted. Softly. “You read to me at night, remember? We couldn’t sleep because the wolves were-“ “They howled loudly in late summer. I remember,” Nightmare said bitterly. “You worked late into the evening to help the villagers harvest their crops in time for the autumn equinox. The preparations would last for weeks. I wouldn’t see you until well after sunset.” The tendrils on his back coiled in on themselves, uncomfortable. Nightmare was getting upset. “But it’s always about you, isn’t it?” Dream stilled. He was speechless. “I don’t… I don’t understand.” He didn’t need to see Nightmare’s glare to feel it. “Your idea of spending time together was doing what you wanted to do. When I told you I didn’t feel comfortable with the villagers, you ignored me-“ “That's not true!” “Yes it is!” Nightmare snapped. “The more time you spent with them the more you were convinced you were always right! Especially when I had something to say.” His chest was very tight and cold, suddenly. “That was- it was never about what I wanted! We were told to-” But Nightmare wasn’t listening. He was spiraling. “Enough, Dream. You chose to trust them over me. Accept it. There’s nothing more to it.” Dream felt his jaw lock. He couldn’t speak, his chest was too tight. Everything felt too tight. The ground was spinning and he was drowning. It had never felt like a choice at all. It’d felt inevitable. The river was no longer gurgling playfully, it wailed. Thrashing against the shore and loose stones. The spray was constant.

His brother came to a stop. “We cross here,” he said, mechanically. Calm held in place by a fragile wire. “The river is narrow here. There must have been a storm recently. We can use the fallen trees caught by the current to cross the river. We’ll need to be careful.” The crunch of pebbles underfoot. A splash. Dream didn’t move. “Dream.”

His jaw ached. Dream unclenched his teeth and counted the steps he took. One. Two. Three. Water reached his ankles before he felt close enough to reach for Nightmare’s hand. He was afraid Night’ would be too angry to help him up, but Nightmare grabbed his hand and without hesitation, pulled. The bark underfoot was slick and covered in lichen. Dream felt the growth peel as he carefully shuffled across the log. Nightmare held his hand tightly. “Two paces. I need to let go of your hand to climb over the next log. Use the branches as hand holds. You should feel them easily enough,” he still sounded so monotone. Dream bristled. “I know how to climb a tree.” The river thundered. He almost couldn’t hear the angry snap of his brother’s teeth under it. He dropped Dream’s hand like it was made of hot coal. Turned and climbed over. Dream took two steps forward and reached out to press his hand to the log. He dug his claws in, unhappy and begrudgingly grateful the tree wasn’t alive or magical. He could be as rough as he wanted to be. The negativity rolling off his brother sent the tendrils on his back lashing at nothing. He didn’t know what to do. Once on the other side, his brother grabbed his hand again, but his grip was too tight and resentment stung like needles. He yanked his hand back. “If you hate it so much, you don’t have to come with me.” A different emotion flashed through his brother. It was a sickly festering thing, but it went by so fast, Dream couldn’t hold on to it. “What are you talking about?” Dream hunched his shoulders. The tendrils on his back writhed. Every inch of him felt sickly and awful. “I don’t mind. I can take care of myself. I’m tired of making you miserable.” He heard his brother take a sharp breath. “I can’t-“ “You feel obligated to take care of me. I never asked for your help. And now you’re— and now it’s all my fault?” “I never said that. I never said it was your fault!” “I didn’t reach for the apple first, brother.” He didn’t know why he said it. He knew it was the wrong thing to say, but he couldn’t stop the seething remark from leaving his mouth. Nightmare went deathly still. He grew colder than the darkest night Dream could remember. He grew so cold his magic felt like liquid fire. Something snapped. Nightmare snarled. “I was trying to protect the tree! I was trying to protect Nim’s resting place! You weren’t there. The villagers were always kind to you. You don’t know what they were like!” Dream couldn’t take it anymore. “I can feel your resentment, Nightmare. Sometimes you look at me with so much vitriol I feel nauseous! I was there every day you felt so miserable you couldn’t get up! I was there but you didn’t tell me anything, you never told me what was wrong!” “I was scared, Dream! They were going to take the apples no matter what I did. You left me alone to defend the tree by myself. You left me alone with people who hated me constantly! Why would I trust you with anything?” Dream recoiled. An invisible force squeezed his chest and the memory alone gave his brother so much pain. “Night’...” The log underneath them creaked. It pitched down, sharply, and the raging river spat high to drag him into the rapids. Nightmare yelled. He grabbed his arm and they scrambled over up-turned tumbling logs. They weren’t fast enough. Dream’s knee knocked against something hard. The log underneath his feet bobbed vertically and he went down. Fast. He sank like a stone to the bottom of the river, but the river was not still and he was sent tumbling into the rock and debris. He reached out, desperately burrowing his claws into any surface that would give, but the goop that coated his body was like syrup. The wraith of the river peeled layer after endless layer but everything he touched was as slippery as oil and he couldn’t hold on. His back hit something with a hard crack. White hot pain shot down his spine in a brief moment of agony. On instinct alone, he twisted around and heaved himself up over the boulder. He was met with cold, lashing air. “Dream!” Dream heard his brother through the roar of the tide, but he sounded far away. His skull was ringing, water poured from his mouth when he tried to yell and he choked. “-n-night’! Where are you!” “Don’t swim against the current! You’re facing the bank, go towards it! Hold on, Dream! I’m coming!” Struggling against the pull of the current, Dream dragged himself around the boulder, and vaulted for the shore he couldn't see or hear. If Nightmare said it was there, then it must be. The current rocked and rolled his body. It was a struggle to keep moving in one direction. Bones naturally sank and the goop was hardly buoyant. He struggled and kicked off from the riverbed until he felt pebbles under his knees and grit between his phalanges. Silt-covered pebbles gave way to mud. He crawled up the bank as far as he could before his strength gave out. An unpleasant force churned sour in his mouth. Dream choked and lurched forward heaving and gasping, on his hands and knees, until he wasn’t spitting up sand and gravel and wasted magic. His arms buckled underneath him. A whimper rattled his bones. The magic that coated his body had taken the brunt of the river and nothing felt broken because of it, but everything ached. He was so tired. “Dream! Don’t give up! Whatever you do, don’t fall asleep! The bridge is completely gone. I need to find another way to cross the river. I’ll be back, I promise! Don’t move!” “Don’t go,” Dream tried to say, but his voice came as a rasp and was drowned out by the river. If Nightmare said anything in reply. He didn’t hear it. His brother’s presence was already gone.

#moltendreams!au #molten!dream #rem!nightmare #dreamtale AU #passive!nightmare #passive nightmare sans #dream #dream sans #au!dream #utmv au #utmv #dream!Sans #nightmare #nightmare!sans #nightmare sans #Moltendreams!nightmare

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vixnovacoda · 1 year

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Doctor's Medicine || Chapter 1

Hannibal Lecter x Original Character

Word Count: 2.9k

CW/TW: NSFW 18+, graphic, disturbing content, dissociation, canon-typical violence.

Summary: Amongst his list of patients, Doctor Hannibal Lecter finds an interesting character in his latest, Emma Darcy, the author of a bestselling crime series whose mind is host to something clawing to be free. The two become inexplicably drawn to each other and things progress as Emma encounters a world of death. But the question is, who will change who?

[ao3 version here]

There’s a monster inside me. Emma believed this thought since her first body. Bug dead eyes affixed upon her, screaming with stiff muscles for her attention. Ordinary people, she supposed, retaliate. They run, they freeze; there’s an emotional response. She stared back and admired the skin’s complexion, the marbled musculature opened out on display. Albeit, while resistant to obey, a voice unlike hers gave those actions. It made her replay the death over and over to the point of meaningless where she was left to be creative in her own telling, coming up with bestseller-worthy skewerings ready to satiate a country for months.

There was a rare sliver of remorse in those stories. The monster was in control, a shapeless figure which pooled at the back of her mind like fog, seeping through the cracks when the time was right. When it seeped, it poured, and the noise became maddening.

Emma Darcy. Recorded as "age: twelve" back then by the pediatric nurses. They gave her colourful pills, which she fed the monster. For a time, medication worked fifty-fifty.

On days like these, in Baltimore’s blood-stained oasis, pills did nothing.

Perhaps that had been why she readily accepted her agent’s urge for psychiatric assessment instead of continuing her research. Each crime scene made her sicker and sicker, each carcass, each blood spatter, each playing out the scene in her head. Even Emma grew scared towards herself – when the world already regarded her books with the same spine-scattering fear – at the dedication. Therapy seemed, naturally, like one more option to consider, dreaded though it was to be scrutinised again after self-medicating.

All this for the sake of quelling the monster.

An empty waiting room. The clicking clock. Painful silence in luxurious comfort; Emma had wedged herself in a leather seat for the past ten minutes. Her foot tapped to the seconds which passed until her time with the proclaimed ‘finest’ psychiatrist arrived.

2:30 pm. Click. The door opened. “Miss Darcy?” asked the man at the room’s entrance. The accent, while unable to pinpoint, could not be missed.

“Please, just Emma,” she said, taking the time to take in his well-composed stature and three-piece suit – grey; neutral.

“Of course. My apologies, Emma.” Dr. Lecter’s lips formed a thin smile. “Please come in.” He welcomed her out from the small and into an overly large, lavish office which seemed like a mix between old-fashioned and modern with a high ceiling, pillars that spanned the same height, red walls and fixtures that brightened under the spring sun, and a pair of black leather chairs. It looked more like a room than anything at a hospital. It looked like a home. “Take a seat,” he said, gesturing over to the other chair opposite from him as he situated himself into place. Legs crossed.

Emma made her way over, heels resounding off the hardwood floor at uneven beats. “I must say sorry in advance,” she began as she accepted her appointed seat. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen any sort of psychiatrist. So, you’ll have to excuse my nerves.”

“That’s not a problem at all. As long as you’re in this room, Emma, you should have nothing to be nervous about, I assure you.” His words gave way to a sense of kindness akin to sensitivity via carefully constructed sentences. From the moment she saw his tall, lean frame, the nerves cemented themselves and the longer she looked, the more Emma couldn’t help but notice the well-mannered self he portrayed in his appearance. His hair: short and tamed, but wild in colour as if it couldn't decide on anything other than aged by way of greys. His eyes: ever watching, ever focused, and soft. A calm wave washed her into an ease she had no control over. He was right, in some sense. There was nothing to worry about, at least, as far as she had been aware. Hannibal Lecter was just a man, a psychiatrist, a doctor.

“Shall we start with why you’ve decided to try therapy again?” asked Dr. Lecter, filling the silence.

Emma blinked, returning to reality. “Y-Yes.” Unaware her mind had wandered for so long, she cleared her restless vocal cords before answering, “you may have noticed that I wasn’t the one who made the appointment. My literary agent, Marcus Hall, took the liberty of doing so on my behalf.”

“I may have. But I did not believe it was my place to mention.”

“Well, thank you.” Emma smiled. The muscles in her cheeks grew lax as she continued, “what I do is not for the faint of heart, I take it seriously, and my mental health hasn’t slipped in years. Le Belle Mort is my life’s work. Each novel is inspired by real homicides. They help people understand the beauty in things which would otherwise scare them. Life may be beautiful, but so is death.”

“Le Belle Mort: The Beautiful Death.” Dr. Lecter rolled the words off his tongue with such an exquisiteness Emma found marvelling. “A wonderful notion,” he said, leaning back.

“It can be when executed properly. Such art requires a careful hand and good inspiration. Hence why I’m here in Baltimore, and considering I’m looking at the Chesapeake Ripper, I guess Marcus was just worried I might slip up sooner rather than later.”

Pale yellow rays danced along the sharp edges of his face as it tilted to the side. “And you agreed?”

“The people closest to you can usually tell when something is off, even when you don’t.”

“Sometimes. But, often, we are the only ones who can ever truly know. You showing up here today is a sign that you do.”

“I’m not sure I entirely do know,” she admitted softly.

“As humans, we have a desire towards knowledge. Without it, life would not be able to exist. It creates power. Admittedly, when someone knows something you don’t, it is natural to be afraid. There are no nerves in this room, Emma,” he explained, weaving the threads of his cold intellectualism into his compassionate psychology and awaited her response. She did; a gulp made poignant noise. He had a point. A honed needle-shaped point, which he began to stitch with. “Now tell me, what does Marcus see in you that no one else doesn’t?”

“Probably,” said Emma as she drew a long breath, “the fact my medication isn’t taking so well anymore.” She could feel the seams coming together on her skin, on her mind, sealing the holes she wished to retreat inside of and keeping her together. Thin, tiny tingles.

“May I ask why you’re on medication?”

“My research can get quite intensee. Hours are spent going over gruesome details; what the tissue looks like, the angle of the rod when inserted through the eyeball, blood splatters, body decomposition and etcetera. I see dead bodies in my day-to-day, Dr. Lecter. Real bodies and I used to not be fazed by it since started.”

Hannibal remained still. He analysed each second between her breaths; saw the rise and fall of her chest beneath her marigold shirt. “That sort of work can tax the mind over time. The more you see, the more that gets added to the pile before your mind eventually cracks from underneath. What you are experiencing could very well be as simple as not increasing dosage over time.”

“It’s not the work itself which fazes me.” Emma’s heart raced at perturbing thoughts.

“Then what drives this fear?”

Uncertainty betrays her. She tears herself from his undeterred gaze.

“Emma,” said Hannibal, attempting to bring her back, “are you afraid someone is going to get hurt?” By now, the skilled psychiatrist spotted the mirror which sat across from him. Emma leant back at the same degree and angle, her hands situated similarly in her lap, her legs and face at odd parallels to the horizontal floor. And she looks not at him, but at the deepest, empty black pools of his eyes. For the first time, he truly looks back into her dark blues, which shimmered; possibility.

———

Yellow tape hung from the ornate door. A dozen uniforms walked in and out of the mid-century home, bypassing the tape. Two stood guard at the front. Radio chatter made a constant noise throughout the empty chambers. Flash photography went off, and flashlights shone in search. There had been no blood.

Nonetheless, Emma Darcy’s living situation was a crime scene.

Three hours ago, she had returned from her session with Dr. Lecter to the package at her door. About two hours was how long the police riffled through her small inventory of stuff, asking her questions and making sure she remained on the premises for the time being. Two hours to have the image of opening the package and dropping skin fragments on tiled flooring replay repeatedly. The package: navy blue, neatly wrapped with a bow. The contents: jigsaw squares cut from the same skin, Caucasian (like her), edges clean. This image played in her mind as a welcomed family member. It had been there before, but younger. An old case; her first book.

Her nails dug into the bottom of the patio deck, and herself placed on the edge, chewing on her lip. Too focused to notice new faces approach. “Miss Emma Darcy?” Three separate footfalls. “I’m Special Agent Jack Crawford with the FBI.” So it was as serious. Emma lifted her head at the badge presented before her. “This is Special Agent Will Graham and—”

“Dr. Lecter,” Emma finished. Her back immediately straightened upon sight of him.

“You two know each other?” asked Crawford, as he looked between them to discern the recognition.

Dr. Lecter eyed her with caution. The move was hers to take. “We just met earlier today.” Wood splinters hitched her hands, which loosened their grip. “He’s my psychiatrist,” she clarified. Sooner or later, she’d have to admit it as part of her alibi.

The answer satiated Crawford’s curiosity. “Well, Dr. Lecter here is assisting with the case. I take it that won’t be an issue?”

“Not at all,” responded Dr. Lecter.

“Good.” He shoved his hands into the pocket of his coat; no answer needed from Emma. Whose gaze turned to the remaining man, Will Graham, as he began to speak, “we were informed when asked for a statement you were unresponsive. Could you answer a few questions for us now, Miss Darcy?”

“Oh.” She hadn’t realised. She swore she talked to at least one of them. “I… Yes, and, please, just Emma.”

Will gave her a sincere, restrained cheek pull as if to say sorry and of course simultaneously. Awkward, though endearing in a way, perhaps, only executable by him and his lost puppy dog eyes that wouldn’t give her the direct time of day.

“Shall we?” said Crawford, gesturing to the nearby table and chairs.

Howled winds moved first, faster than Emma could keep up with as it caught against her red hair. She required focus to move. Otherwise, every touch felt reminiscent of the soft skin tissue she had handled mere hours ago. Right down to the temperature. She could feel it. Her knees buckled. All the weight bled out of her until nothing remained. Her head spun. Shapes merged into blurs, and a pair of hands grabbed her arms as her body dropped. Air hitched through her deprived brain. She could hear their collective worried exclaim and feel how small she was in that tight grasp to keep her upright. Eventually, a face broke past the dazed vision. “Take your time, Emma.” An unmistakable accent. Hannibal.

She peered up at him. He was calm even as his skin made contact with her bare forearms. Bodies close. Heat rose in her face, red being the first colour to return to her complexion – embarrassment, she called it at the time.

Forcefully swallowing the rock-shaped lump in her throat, Emma bobbed her head. “I got it.” Sure that she did, he removed himself. Shakingly, she pulled herself upright once more and made her way towards the opposite end of the deck. Her eyes moved faster than her feet as she became desperate not to see that face of Hannibal’s. Regardless, reminders of him stood everywhere. Pinewood trees surrounded the perimeter; grand and valiant against the chaos. They reminded her to breathe, to become one, to ground herself in the secluded forest. “Ask away,” said Emma, plopping beside the kitchen window.

Dr. Lecter and Agent Crawford took the remaining seats. Will’s fidgety self preferred to stand. “The easy stuff first,” said Crawford. “Take us through your day.”

She circled what phantom marks formed on her forearm as she sifted through her catalogic mind. “I woke up around eight o’clock, had breakfast and started my research until midday when I headed to my two-thirty appointment with Dr. Lecter. Then I went home, found the package, took it into the kitchen, opened it and called the police,” she explained.

“And I’ve noticed you have an accent. Are you…?”

“British? Yes. I just arrived a few days ago to work on my book.”

“Who owns the house?” queried Will plainly.

“My agent, Marcus Hall.” She turned her head. “He owns another place closer to the city, so he let me stay here.”

“Does anyone else know you’re here?”

“Except everyone here, no.”

Crawford spoke this time. “Any reason your mail wound up here, then?”

“Fan mail. After an incident a few years back, Marcus has been handling it for me. He most likely left it here for me,” said Emma. Distracted, her eyes followed a heavily clothed officer through the open window. Nosey and inquisitive, his naked hand itches above a forgotten string. “Don’t touch that!” Emma shouts, lesser than a worry and more fierce than annoyed. A command. One none of them expected based on her demeanour. “Gloves on or walk away.”

Caught in the act, the officer darts frantically between Crawford and Emma with his brows furrowed only to be met with a similar stare. There was no sympathy to be won. He backed away, and she hung her head, still reeling despite the little adrenaline rush that had kicked its way in. “Sorry, force of habit,” she said.

“You do that often?” asked Crawford.

“A few times, yes, back in England. I worked with public services, so I’m aware of the protocol.”

“More than just aware, it seems. You pieced the human puzzle together and left no trace.”

“That.” She pinched the bridge of her nose, tissue grating against tissue. “That was for my sake. I know it sounds crazy, but I wouldn’t have been able to sleep if I didn’t know.”

“Not crazy, Emma. In your circumstance, it is understandable,” countered Dr. Lecter.

“What’s crazy is the exact same package arriving at my desk this morning,’ put in Crawford.

“… You don’t think I did it?” Emma laid eyes on the three of them, voice thick with tension.

Crawford peered at Will, conferring silently on his assessment. A glint reflected from a lens as the Special Agent removed his glasses, lips pursed and he shook his head. An outsider couldn't understand what it meant, even more so than what probably went on inside his head. But Jack Crawford had not been a stranger to this communication. He leant over the drab table. “No. In fact, we know you couldn’t have,” disclosed Crawford.

Baffled, her stomach fluttered. “So why are you telling me this?”

“Because the box had your name on it. Whoever did this wanted you and the FBI to know,” told Will. There contained a scrunched-up look on his face, apologetic in tone.

“We were hoping you might be able to help us, Emma,” said Crawford. “Any information you have, anything, would be grateful.”

Questions and answers, everyone had them. This new information fed that cycle. She could tell them everything – connect the points as she did with the puzzle – all it would cost was a dip. How much would the ultimate cost be? Enough to remain with some grip on reality? Maybe that’s all she needed. Enough.

She’d tell them enough. She wanted to help, even if there wasn’t much she could do.

But a detail had gone missing. “Is it a woman?” Emma piped.

Crawford squinted. “I’m sorry?”

“The victim you have. Is it a woman?”

“We’re not sure yet. Why?”

“My puzzle is missing about half its pieces. The first book in my series contains a similar murder. Every detail so far matches up. It's the first out of many. I needed to be sure.”

Will’s eyes widened as he connected the points. “You think there’s going to be more.”

Emma acquiesced and nodded. “It is highly probable,” she said, “and you have the other half.”

Darkness set on Baltimore and a fog wanting more, without a care for who was present, spread. Psychiatrist and patient set their sights on each other.

Two rooms over, spread out atop carpet in an intricate pattern, laid the human flesh that had been cut only to reform back as half a body. A young female. No detail spared as they all merged and were torn once more, crimson spilling at the edges of Emma’s mind. Piecing it back together. Over and over. Again and again. Visceral and real. Her story became reality.

The line began to blur.

———

“Emma,” said Hannibal, attempting to bring her back, “are you afraid someone is going to get hurt?”

“I’m afraid of myself,” she admitted. “I’m afraid I’m going to get hurt.”

#Hannibal #Hannibal x oc #Hannibal Lecter x original character #Hannibal nbc #Hannibal lecter #Hannibal lecter fanfiction #Hannibal fanfic #Hannibal lecter fanfic #Hannibal fanfiction

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11quillen11 · 1 year

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About Family: The Unbreakable Bond

Okay so Family: The Unbreakable Bond is apparently getting a season 2. This does not make me super happy because I can’t help but feel like the fact that a second season was already planned is what fucked the first season up.

From episodes 5 to 11, the first season is really good. Sadly, that is only six episodes. The first four episodes are filled with irrelevant plotlines unrelated to the main conflict, and the last episode is disappointing because it does not tie up any loose end, delivers no emotional pay-off, and kills off a beloved character for no reason. Even if season 2 turns out great, the issue is that season 1 does not feel like a complete season of television.

If the introduction was only two episodes long, with the reveal of Yura’s identity happening at the end of episode 2, then surely, in the span of a standard 16 episodes, the season would have had time to conclude its most important storylines: (1) Cheon Ryun and Do Hoon taking down what is left of the Union and reforming the NIS, (2) Yu Ra and Do Hoon having an actual conversation about their pasts and the fact that they have been lying to each from the moment they met, (3) Tae Gu clearly telling Yu Ra that he did not kill her parents and helping her get her revenge so they can reconcile along the way.

What I think should have been cut to accommodate this: (1) the kids’ love story, (2) the grandpa’s love stories and the hints that he has super powers or whatever that was, (3) a lot of the scenes with the little brother and his pregnant wife. They should then be replaced by storylines that are tied to the main plot. Like, maybe the grandpa is an army veteran who was friends with one of the antagonists, maybe the brother getting involved with loan sharks ends up placing him in a dangerous position where his life is at risk and he is himself turning into a criminal, and Do Hoon and/or Yu Ra learn and don’t know how to best help him without putting him and themselves in danger, or maybe his storyline places him in a certain position vis-à-vis them that forces them to choose whether to cut him off to protect themselves and Minseo, or risk all of their lives for him. Minseo already has the whole plot with the uncle, who cares about her romance? Additionally, I think it would have been interesting if the family members learned the truth about Do Hoon and Yu Ra, so that they too can become a vessel to explore the theme: would they cut off Do Hoon and Yu Ra to protect themselves and their family?

The theme of the drama is very clear (they spell it out more than once): family matters more than anything. Despite this, there are too few instances where our protagonists, Do Hoon and Yu Ra are tested to prove that they indeed place family above all else. To fully explore the theme, it would have been interesting to see the characters be forced to define who they consider family, if all family is equal to them, and how far they are willing to go to protect their family. Would Yu Ra and Do Hoon sacrifice innocents for their family? Would they sacrifice one family member for another? Would they leave their family behind if they thought it was the only way to ensure their safety? The only time their belief is truly challenged is after they learn the truth about each other, but they both seem to make up their mind very quickly that they will choose to trust each other and remain together despite everything. Otherwise, the show only has them going around trying to protect their family from outside forces, something which should have been the focus of the last, say, four episodes of a 16 episodes season, after they’ve spent ten episodes of proper character exploration.

But hey, that’s just my opinion. Overall, I still enjoyed season 1, but it was definitely disappointing. Still, I have good hope that season 2 (if indeed there is a season 2) is going to be so good it will make up for the flaws of season 1.

#family the unbreakable bond #kdrama #my meta #jang nara #jang hyuk #it must be said that jang nara simply never disappoints #i love her so much

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saiilorstars · 1 year

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Ch. 21: Pacman

[Story Masterlist] // [Aitana’s Masterlist]

Fandom: Criminal Minds // Pairing: Spencer Reid x OFC

Taglist: @ocappreciationtag @arrthurpendragon @anotherunreadblog @maaaaarveeeeel @stareyedplanet @averyhotchner @foxesandmagic

If you’d like to be a part of Aitana’s taglist, please let me know!

"Ten year old Sammy Sparks of Lafayette Parish, Louisiana, showed up at his elementary school this morning covered in blood…"

"When police got to his house, they found that his parents, Charlie and Alison Sparks, were missing…"

"Forensics indicate that at least one of them was injured, and by the looks of it, it was pretty severe. No ransom's been demanded…"

Aitana did her best to go over the case file in her lap but it was rather difficult when she kept overhearing a rapid rambling from the plane's front. As much as she wanted to focus on the case, she couldn't stop listening to Spencer's description of what appeared to be his favorite show. She couldn't quite remember how Seaver had managed to get him to open up like that but it was damn amusing considering how little time Seaver had been with the team.

"Is that the one where they fly around in the phone booth?" Seaver finally managed to cut into the conversation.

Spencer had to put down his almost ready coffee to better explain. "First of all, it's a police box, not a phone booth. Second of all, Doctor Who started a quarter of a century before Bill and Ted even went on their bodacious adventure, so, really, they should have just called it 'Bill and Ted's Excellent Rip-Off.' I mean, at least then—"

"I'm really sorry," Seaver said suddenly, confusing Spencer for a moment.

"For what?"

"Asking." Seaver promptly grabbed her coffee and turned away, making a scurry for an empty seat in the back of the plane. Aitana looked up momentarily, her expression bearing a frown. What was the need in being rude like that?

Spencer was more than used to that type of shut down so, after making one scrunched-up face, he returned to the preparation of his coffee. Aitana seemed to go back to her case as well—she'd missed the meeting earlier that morning and she wanted to be caught up as soon as they landed—but just as Spencer put the lid over his now ready coffee, he heard her voice.

"If you tell me that you have the lost episodes, I'm going to throw this case file at you."

Spencer glanced her way and saw her still reading the file in front of her. Her eyes looked up for a second, meeting his with a small smile. He wasn't sure if it was the lighting of the morning but he could see more flecks of green in her eyes from where he stood. "The what now?" he geniously responded with. He cleared his throat, flushing.

"The lost episodes of Doctor Who," Aitana repeated, "Aren't there like 100 or something?"

"It's actually 97," he corrected her. She playfully rolled her eyes and chuckled lightly. "In the span of 26 serials…" He started making his way to her seat and sat across her, putting his coffee on the table between them. "Because back then, they did serials instead of the traditional 1 story episodes." He took a moment to study her, clearly thinking about something he was yet to let her in on. "You're a Doctor Who fan?"

Aitana shrugged. "Casually. My brothers like the show and I've watched more than a few to know some stuff too."

"Have you watched any of the classics?"

"Not a lot," she shook her head. "But I find it hilarious that the fifth Doctor decided celery was a good fashion choice."

Spencer beamed. "You know about that?" It was easy to elicit yet another rambling conversation from him about Doctor Who. Aitana could only interject where she knew enough but other than that, she listened attentively in hopes of perhaps understanding a little bit more of the show.

~ 0 ~

Arriving at the precinct in Louisiana, the first thing that Aitana did was take a look at the recent crimes in the area. As it turned out, the entire area had been devastated by an oil spill leaving many, many possible suspects in their pool. She came to the conference room where Emily and Seaver were. Hotch and Morgan were already examining the crime scene at the Sparks' residence while Spencer and Rossi took a crack at the only witness of the crime, the Sparks' son Sammy.

"I know every case is hard but, um," Aitana revealed a decent-sized pile of papers in her hands, "Everybody can literally be a suspect. Everyone's got financial problems after the oil spill."

"Morgan's keeping me updated but he says the unsub resembles a man on a mission," Emily said. With a sigh, Aitana came up to the table to put down her pile of suspects. "He didn't steal a single expensive item from the house. He definitely came for the parents."

"We're thinking it's somebody they recognized," Seaver said, "There was no sign of forced entry."

"The Sparks have a music store," Emily said, pointing to the photograph of the store on the pinboard. "Seaver and I visited it and it looked like they were very open to all kinds of payments. There's evidence of bartering for some construction work on a child's drum set and cleaning services for sheet music."

"Makes sense given the oil spill," Aitana gave a light shrug of her shoulders then set one hand on her hip. "Though you can really see that in small areas too."

"Were there any significant crimes that we could connect to this one?" asked Seaver.

Aitana shook her head. "I went over the records here myself and then asked for Garcia's assistance but...nothing. This place is going downhill in terms of finances but there hasn't been any type of case remotely like this one. I'll have to speak with the family instead."

"Any word on that?" Emily wondered.

"Garcia's working on it but there's no in state that we know of so my next bet is whoever Sammy saw on a daily basis. His school."

"You want us to come with you?"

"No, I think I'm going to get either Reid or Rossi since they already started talking to Sammy, or rather they're trying to. It's best if one of them stays with him."

Agreeing with her, the two agents let Aitana leave the room to go find the others. She poked her head into the family interrogation room and slowly came in so as to not frighten Sammy on the couch.

"How's he doing?" She asked Spencer and Rossi who were sitting across the young boy.

"He won't talk," Rossi said, sounding very unsurprised. "He just draws."

Aitana looked at all the pictures sprawled on the table that Sammy had drawn. There were at least a dozen. "Those are curious," she picked up one of them. The paper was covered in red and black lines. "Why'd he draw m's?"

"M's?" Spencer looked up with a scrunched face. "No, they're L's."

"No, they're m's," Aitana turned the paper over to look at it from a different angle. "Ha," she laughed for a second, "Never mind, they're little mouths." She made a show of biting the air. "You know like pacman?"

"Pacman?" Rossi sounded, and looked, less than impressed.

"You know, the little popular arcade game with the bright yellow head going—" she was just about to start munching air when Rossi cut her off.

"Yeah, yeah, I get it now."

Aitana's eyebrows raised, eyes flickering between him and Spencer. "They're not L's. They're something else."

"No, they're L's," Spencer reiterated. "We don't know what it could stand for, though."

"Then maybe they're not L's," Aitana shrugged. "They really look more like angles." She even raised her hand, closing the space between her fingers to make another pacman biting gesture.

"Yeah, definitely not," Spencer said slowly, his eyes squinting a bit the more he watched her hand open and close. "They're L's."

Aitana turned the paper over for him to see. "Dr. Reid, you may be overthinking it. They're pacman."

Without saying anything, Spencer strode over and took the paper from her to reassess the picture again. "No, they're L's!"

"Oh God, you poked the bear," Rossi murmured to Aitana, making the woman chuckle lightly.

"Well, as interesting as this is, I did need one of you to come with me to Sammy's school," Aitana sent a glance in the boy's direction. He didn't seem to be paying attention to anything but his drawings.

"You can take Reid," Rossi didn't miss a beat with his response.

"No, no, I want to study these again," Spencer said, still thoroughly engrossed with the picture in his hands. "They're definitely L's..."

Rossi then turned his head at Aitana, one hand under his chin. "You started it, now you take him." One of his fingers pointed to Spencer.

Aitana couldn't help but giggle. "Rossi…" He made a motion for her to tape the young doctor already. She reached over for Spencer's arm, pulling him with her towards the door. "C'mon."

"I don't see the L's!"

Rossi would hear Spencer's exclaims even from the hallway.

~0~

The two pair of agents reached Sammy's school in a little under 10 minutes. In those few minutes, Spencer had gone over the picture at least 20 times while Aitana drove.

"You look like a madman right now," Aitana said once they got out of the car. School was still in session but only for another fifteen minutes.

"I just don't see...pacman," he huffed as he shut the car door.

"Really?" Aitana stopped by the front of the car, gasping with a hand over her mouth. "You hadn't mentioned that."

Spencer scrunched his face. He got the memo. He motioned her to lead the way to the school. He'd have another look at the picture later.

They maneuvered through the school, starting with the office to get a rundown of Sammy's schedule. They were mighty surprised to find out that Sammy wasn't in a special needs class.

"Does the school have any accommodations for him?" Aitana raised an eyebrow at the secretary on the other side of the desk.

"I'm not in charge of that, ma'am," the woman merely shrugged her shoulders.

"Course not," Aitana mumbled under her breath and decided to take another look at the schedule in her hands.

"Is there any way we can talk to Sammy's teacher?" asked Spencer. "After school, of course."

The secretary nodded her head, looking more pleasurable than she'd been with Aitana. "I'll let her know," she said and headed for her desk.

"This is outrageous and yet, sadly, not surprising," Aitana looked up from the schedule with a heavy sigh. "There's so many schools that don't have accommodations for special needs students. Most families would opt to take their child to a different school even if it was further away."

"But the area's small," Spencer said, leaning his side against the desk. "The Sparks probably couldn't find a suitable school that wasn't too far away."

"I wonder if this school is really working for Sammy, then," Aitana placed the paper down on the desk. "I wonder if they have an art teacher we could talk to. See about those pacmans..."

Spencer very discreetly cleared his throat and uttered a 'L's' under his breath. Aitana sent him a look that he clearly avoided by smiling at the secretary coming back to them.

"She'll be ready for you as soon as the dismissal bell goes off," the secretary informed them. "She's in class number 15."

"Thank you," Spencer said.

"Here, thanks," Aitana handed the woman the schedule back.

"C'mon," Spencer led the way into the hallway.

Aitana followed behind but soon started lagging as she kept noting the different artworks hanging on the walls. "These are cute," she laughed at a classroom's art of fruit the students had drawn. "I was never good at drawing but I did have a lot of fun making the crafts."

"I found them a bit tedious," Spencer's remark earned him a questionable side-glance. "I was more interested in the information rather than…" He made a pass at the pictures, "Scribbles."

"Scribbles?" Aitana repeated, almost laughing at how serious he was. "Spencer, this is a fourth grade class. They're nine. What were you doing at that age?"

"I was in high school."

Aitana looked him over with curious eyes. "I'm sorry, you were where?"

"High school."

Aitana forwent the board with the pictures and instead turned to completely face Spencer. "I'm...yeah, I'm going to need an explanation."

Spencer shrugged his shoulders, his hands finding their way into his pockets. "I was a child prodigy—I graduated from high school when I was 12."

"Huh?" Aitana's eyes widened.

Spencer scrunched his face in response. He didn't really know what else to say now while Aitana was staring at him so dumbfoundedly. Luckily, the dismissal bell went off. Saved by the bell. "C'mon, we should go find the classroom."

Aitana's eyes were still wide from what she heard, and even when Spencer left, she stayed frozen. "What!?" She came back to the present minutes later. A light laugh slipped through her lips. "Of course," she mumbled under her breath as she went to catch up.

As soon as the class had been dismissed, Ms. Roger's was ready to talk. "We don't really have special resources to accommodate children like Sammy, so he's in with everybody else," she confirmed what Aitana had already seen based on the schedule in the office.

"Can he actually comprehend the material?" Aitana asked her.

"Not everything. You know, I've done my best to research alternative teaching methods, but there's only so much I can do."

"Of course," the agent agreed. It wasn't up to the teachers but the administrators in the end.

"Children with autism normally think very logically," remarked Spencer. "Their minds can pick up patterns that ours normally wouldn't recognize."

Mrs. Roger's agreed with a hum. "Yes, that's right. I've found that repetition and routine are the keys to getting through to him."

"That makes sense. Repetition forms patterns on the brain, and as those patterns reoccur, it forms a calming influence on the child. Which would allow new information to be retained."

"I'm sure Sammy's parents figured that out, too, then," Aitana said, already thinking how that would be installed at home. "His parents most likely kept him on a strict daily schedule."

"Oh, like clockwork," Mrs. Roger nodded.

"That's how Sammy was able to walk from his house to school yesterday. He'd memorized the route," Aitana said.

"Yeah, it's 7:45, time for him to go to school. He doesn't need to wait for his mom or dad. He simply grabs an empty lunchbox and heads here," Spencer thought of that fateful morning. Sammy hadn't waited for anyone to take him to school. He did what he always did: followed the schedule. "If Sammy was living on a strict routine, that means Charlie and Alison were, too. Which would have only made them easier targets."

That made for the suspect pool to increase even more.

~ 0 ~

When Aitana and Spencer returned to the precinct, they found Emily and Seaver gone. One of Penelope's tricks had, hopefully, gotten them a clue of the Unsub and possibly Sammy's parents. The only problem was if the unsub had gotten what he wanted, Sammy's parents were now expendable.

"I have run every 'L' I can find, think of, or make up in my giant magic head and nothing hits," Penelope groaned over the phone line, "I even ran the number 50 in case Sammy has some sort of predilection to Roman numerals. Came up dry."

"Did you try 'pacman' yet?" Aitana asked with a knowing smirk on her face. Not too far from where she sat was Spencer who was already shaking his head at her. He didn't see any dang pacman!

"No...should I?" Penelope asked, none the wiser about the ongoing bickering.

"Maybe. Just the angles..." Rossi was the one to say, giving a pat over Aitana's shoulder. He may have been a little proud that somebody was getting under the doctor's skin.

Hotch and Morgan were the only ones out of the loop, so they both quickly moved onto the next subject.

"Any luck on finding Sammy's next of kin?" asked Morgan.

"In name only," Penelope moved on too. "Charlie has a sister named Elizabeth that was last reported residing in Mont Belvieu, Tejas. But she's not responding to calls or email. Elizabeth."

Spencer was quick to straighten in his seat. "The "L" could stand for Liz or Lizzie!" Aitana rolled her eyes at him but said nothing. She wouldn't put it behind fate to make him actually right.

"Garcia, we need to find her and fast," Morgan said.

Penelope agreed. "I will move so fast, the earth will reverse its rotation and time and bend it backwards!" She hung up afterwards.

As the hour went by, the remaining team tried to have eyes and ears around through the neighborhood in case the victims had been set free, regretfully either dead or alive. There were no such reports.

"If this unsub has the money he needs, why hasn't he let the Sparks go?" Aitana found herself asking after what seemed like the dozen check-in with the precinct. Everything was still. "If this was about the money, then how come they're still being held?"

"We might have an answer to that," Emily was able to respond in time. She and Seaver were coming into the conference room.

"Alison tried to withdraw $40,000 from the branch in Bayside, but she only got 10,000," Seaver explained, "So maybe he's holding them until he gets the money he needs."

"We think he wants a specific amount," Emily added, "Alison kept telling the bank manager that 10 grand wasn't enough. That says to me he's told them what would be."

Which means they were more than ready to deliver the profile.

~0~

While the rest of the team delivered the profile, Aitana had been tasked with meeting Sammy's aunt who would be arriving at the precinct soon. Elizabeth, or Lizzie, as she preferred to be called, seemed relatively nice. She was just sorely out of place, even more so when Aitana explained the situation with her brother and her nephew.

"He hasn't said anything?" Lizzie asked while Aitana led the way into the elevator.

"No," Aitana shook her head. "My colleagues have spent a lot, if not most, of their time observing Sammy but all he's done so far is just draw."

"That's what he always used to do," Lizzie said with a fondness that just further confused Aitana. As soon as they'd met, Lizzie made it clear that she had no idea about her brother and his family's situation even before the kidnapping. Why would she be fond of a nephew she barely sees? More to the point, how could Lizzie know that Sammy liked to draw and that it was what he used to do in the past?

Aitana pressed the up button on the elevator then stepped back beside Lizzie. "I'm very sorry to ask this but it's protocol. So far, you're the only family member we can find. Do you have any idea if there's somebody who could've done this?"

Lizzie didn't think twice before shaking her head. "No, I wouldn't know anything. Charlie and I don't speak to each other. I don't know any of his friends and he doesn't know any of mine."

"Mm," Aitana could see the pain in the woman's eyes. She must be feeling terrible right now knowing her brother was most likely injured.

By the time they reached Sammy's room, the profile had been delivered and both Spencer and Rossi were back with the child. Sammy's teacher, Ms. Rogers, was with in the room as well and all three adults were going back and forth about something.

"...he's a child, and I don't think you get to choose what's best for him!" Ms. Rogers were definitely the more animated of the trio.

"Um," Aitana cleared her throat to announce their presence, "Everyone, this is Lizzie Sparks. Sammy's aunt? Can somebody please tell me what's going on?" Rossi made a point for her to wait while he left the room. "What…?" The brunette was left standing with her hands turned over, demanding an explanation.

A short minute later, Rossi brought over an officer to wait inside with Sammy while the rest of them moved out to discuss what they were trying to decide on.

"I still don't see why you have to take him back to that place," Ms. Rogers said after the agents had explained the situation.

"Sammy was playing the piano when his parents were abducted, so taking him back to the exact location might trigger an important response," Rossi insisted. He knew what they were suggesting was risky but it was even riskier to leave the Sparks to fend for themselves.

"No, but he's fragile. It could also wound him further," Ms. Rogers said, also making a good point.

"I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do here," Lizzie said quietly, mostly to Aitana since she was the only agent she knew of yet.

"It goes like this," Aitana said, turning to face the woman, "You're Sammy's legal guardian right now. The decision's yours."

"No," Ms. Rogers was quick to say, making both women look her way. "He barely knows her. Lizzie, is it? For all we know, she's the "L" he's afraid of."

"Sammy saw his aunt and didn't even react," Spencer pointed out. "If she was the abductor, we'd have seen a visceral response."

"You can't be sure of that. He's in shock!"

"Okay, it also goes like this," Aitana put her hands together while she gathered up her words. "We are running out of time because if you do remember, Mr. Sparkes is injured and we don't know how badly it could be. Also, we are running a background check right on Lizzie as we speak so before she makes any decision, we will know whether or it'll carry weight."

"Wait, what?" Lizzie's eyes widened in alarm. "You're running a background check on me!?"

Aitana made a face that she would later reprimand herself for not being professional. "Did you think we wouldn't?"

Lizzie opened her mouth to respond when logics hit her instead. She promptly stayed quiet.

"When the background check finishes, you're going to have to make a decision," Rossi said, "Can we or can we not take Sammy back to the house?"

~ 0 ~

The group was careful when they led Sammy inside his house. Everything had been cleaned and re-organized before they arrived to ensure the least bit of issues. Sammy seemed alright as he crossed through the foyer. He left his favorite wooden toy train on a table nearby a piano and he only did it to situate himself at AT the piano. Spencer had been right. Sammy would definitely go back to what he was doing when the abduction happened. Almost immediately, he started playing a tune.

"That sounds classic," Aitana said the more Sammy played. She glanced at Lizzie for some help. "Did your brother show him that?"

Lizzie felt terrible when she shook her head. "I don't know."

"When was the last time you saw them?" Rossi had to ask after that. Lizzie knew next to nothing about her family.

"On his 5th birthday. 5 years," sighed Lizzie. "Charlie and I had a fight. It got ugly. I haven't seen either one of them since." There was a pause before she spoke again, but when she did her tone was full of fear. "Do you think Charlie's going to be ok?"

"We're hopeful," Aitana offered the woman a small smile. At this point, what else could they say?

Sammy had played on without interruption, even when Spencer joined him. The doctor watched the boy for a second then, out of nowhere, produced a few keys himself.

"I didn't know you could play, Reid," Rossi remarked.

"I can't," Spencer said simply, even shrugging his shoulders casually.

"What?" Aitana would've laughed had the situation not been grim.

"Well, I never have before, but it's essentially all math."

"Oh, right, cos we knew that," Aitana side-glanced Rossi with widened eyes. The older man merely shrugged.

"Sammy, how about you play this note…" Spencer was slow in showing Sammy the specific note, "For yes. And this note…" he introduced a second note, "for no. Does that sound like something you could do?"

Sammy moved his hand over the key that would play the note meant for 'yes'."

"Yeah, exactly. Just like that," Spencer smiled. "Now, Sammy, do you remember when the man came and took your parents away?"

Sammy once again played the note for 'yes', only for it to slowly turn into a classical tune again.

"That's the same tune he played first," noted Aitana. The others agreed.

"Sammy, I don't understand. Does this song mean something to you?" Spencer asked, watching as Sammy continued to play the piece.

"If he plays it more than once, then we have to assume it is," Rossi said. "Maybe there's something in the house that'll tell us. Serrano?"

The woman nodded obediently. "Mhm. I'll check downstairs." She turned to leave and moments later, Lizzie ended up wandering away too.

Rossi watched Sammy and Spencer continue their game of piano, only hoping that Spencer would be able to figure out what Sammy was trying to say.

~0~

Aitana checked and double checked downstairs for anything that would have to do with the classical piece. She found only a few papers with musical notes left on a table in the hallway. She couldn't read anything musical but she could read titles.

"Looks like Sammy's familiar with a couple classics," she remarked when she returned to the living room. "But I don't know if these papers go to this piece."

Spencer stopped playing for a second to see the papers himself. "No, these aren't it."

"Then I've got nothing," Aitana took the papers back with a sigh.

"Hey, take a look at this!" They heard Rossi say seconds before he came rushing down the stairs. He held another flip book in his hands.

"Is that from school?" Aitana said as Spencer took the flip book in his hands.

"No, it's Sammy's whole routine!" Rossi exclaimed. "Shower, brush teeth, dress. His entire life is planned in order. Maybe we can figure out where Sammy met the unsub."

"He already figured it out," Spencer mumbled as he reached the end of the flip book.

"What do you mean?" Aitana tried to take a peek but instead Spencer shoved it to her in order to retrieve Sammy's pictures they brought along with them.

"Sammy sees his life in pictures. He's been trying to speak with us, but he only knows how to communicate through symbols!" Spencer spread out the three pictures he needed to make his point. He set them on ground then stepped back for the other agents to see. "Look, it's his language." He lifted his pant leg for a second to show his socks with golden anchors. "See? Anchors." Because one of the pictures Sammy drew resembled a bunch of anchors. "Like my socks."

"And that's the tread on your shoes," Rossi pointed to the next picture with a bunch of squares on it. Looking at it better, it did resemble a shoe tread.

"So what's the last one mean?" Aitana pointed to the infamous "L's" on the last paper.

"Oh," Spencer stepped back, nearly letting a laugh slip through.

"Don't tell me they were actually pacman," Aitana blinked, her lips tugging into a smirk.

"No," he pointed as he walked over to take the flip book from her. "But they were like angles." Aitana raised her hand to produce another pacman-like open and shut motion. Spencer shook his head. "No, more like…" He lowered the last of her three fingers to leave just her index and thumb in what appeared like an 'L'. Aitana cocked her head at the new symbol. "An angle that looks like..." Spencer showed her and Rossi the "3:00" flipbook page.

"Oh! It's time!" Aitana exclaimed.

"Exactly! The time Sammy wants us to know about, the time that he met the unsub."

"Where was he at 3:00?"

"2:30, music store," Rossi remembered. "He goes there every day after school, and he doesn't leave until the store closes at 6:00."

Spencer hurried over to Sammy at the piano, showing him the time on his watch. "Hey, Sammy. Sammy, it's almost 3:00. Is there someplace you should be?"

"Should be store," the boy said, immediately pulling his hands from the piano to stand up. He was going to the store, just like his routine had him.

~ 0 ~

By the time they reached the store, Morgan was already there waiting for them. They had the security feed going on over the counter.

"Just let him," Aitana stopped Lizzie from interrupting Sammy's way into the store. They needed to see exactly what his routine entailed. The boy went directly to the big piano set not too far from the counter and began to play the same classic piece as he did earlier.

Meanwhile, Spencer and Rossi headed over to the other agents. "Morgan, we need to fast-forward to 3 p.m," Spencer instructed. "If I'm right, the unsub is somewhere on this tape."

Morgan moved the tape along, stopping a little before 3:00. As predicted, they saw the Sparkes working and Sammy coming into the store. However, they witnessed Charlie Sparkes changing the music they had playing in the store.

"They changed the music. Why would they do that?" Morgan asked.

"It's for Sammy. Classical might be more comforting than Hard Rock," Rossi theorized.

"Ok, here's 3:00," Morgan pointed at the time stamp. Just like he was now, in the video Sammy played the same classic piece.

"Sammy's been trying to tell us who took his parents all along," Spencer nearly smacked his forehead for not seeing before. "At 3 p.m. the song plays, the same song every day at the same time because Charlie Sparks puts the CD in at 2:30 when Sammy arrives. Sammy's never late because Sammy sticks to a schedule, a routine. 30 minutes later…" A new man walked into the screen with a trolley. "This man arrives. A deliveryman with a routine all of his own. We need to figure out who that is, because he's our unsub!"

"I will get Garcia on it," Aitana announced, already pulling her phone out to make the call.

~ 0 ~

Penelope had worked her magic to get them everything they needed on the delivery man they were looking for. She had both sides from the store and the precinct listening in to her discoveries. "Former fisherman turned part-time deliveryman, saddled with more debt than he and his recently removed sons could sustain, including a foreclosing house and a defaulted boat loan." She could almost run out of breath if she wasn't already used to the fast-pace of the job. "Why didn't you tell me you were looking for Bill Thomas at 1024 Elmwood Avenue?"

"What about his boat?" asked Hotch.

"Docked in the marina!"

"We're closer to the house," one of the detectives told Hotch but was easily overheard by the others.

"Ok, we'll take the boat," Morgan decided.

"What's going to happen?" Lizzie was quick to pull Aitana to the side. Everybody else started arranging things for what was to come.

Aitana tried to keep the woman from properly freaking out. "We're going to Thomas' boat to see if Charlie and Ali are there."

"What about me? Sammy!? Can we-"

"I don't know about that," Aitana cut her off, casting a weary glance in Sammy's direction. "It might be too much for him and...if things don't go well…"

"Please," Lizzie begged. "I've stayed away for too long! I need to be there!"

Aitana held her breath while she quickly weighed the pros and cons of doing such a thing. She glanced at the others—everything was crazy as they arranged how and who was going where within the vicinity of the boat area. She glanced at Sammy who remained at the piano, fingers still playing the keys.

"Maybe...we stop by the house first," she started, rubbing her cheek the more she considered a careful plan. "Pick up his favorite toy, just in case."

"Yes!" Lizzie quickly agreed. "Of course!"

Aitana made a gesture for her to hold on while she set things up. She was surprisingly met with an amicable response from the others, especially Rossi for some reason. It appeared he had a better conversation with Lizzie and her falling out with Charlie.

"I'm thinking I drive to the house first to pick up Sammy's toy, create a bigger gap between us and you guys at the dock," Aitana spoke quietly. "Just in case…"

"Yeah, that's good thinking," Rossi nodded. "Take the SUV. We'll go with the officers."

"Okay," she took the keys from him and went to gather up Lizzie and Sammy.

~ 0 ~

The dock was relatively quiet when the group arrived. Morgan was the first one to spot Bill Thomas through his boat's window. For the moment, they stayed right where they were. A few seconds later, Hotch called through.

"Morgan, he's not here!"

"I know, Hotch. We got him," Morgan said, eyes following the man as much as he could through the window. He glanced at the others waiting to start. He promptly hung up the call and shouted towards the boat. "Bill Thomas! This is the FBI! Give yourself up! Your boat is surrounded! We don't want anyone else to get hurt, Bill. Turn yourself in!"

The others readied their arms in case Thomas tried anything quickly. Once again, though, things remained calm.

"All right, listen up," Morgan said to the others. "We move in as soon as SWAT is in position."

Of course then a minute later, they heard the distinctive sound of a gunshot. The entire team raced towards the boat. The first thing they saw was Bill Thomas himself dead on the ground and a sobbing Ali Sparks by her dead husband.

When Aitana arrived to the sight with Lizzie and Sammy, things had already been cleared for the better. She did, however, feel the sense that things hadn't gone the way they hoped. In what sense, she didn't yet know.

"Oh no, no!" Lizzie was quick to get out first.

Aitana got out of the car and moved to the backseat to open the door for Sammy. She was nervous as he got out because, of course, things were going on in full range. He tapped his fingers against his sides while he took everything in. Eyes flickered as much as they could. Aitana held off on touching him for fear of worsening things.

She moved around him, glancing at Lizzie who was watching the coroners take two corpses—both covered—away. Then they saw Ali with Morgan. Lizzie's audible gasp of both relief and realization was painstaking. Aitana drew in a small breath. Charli hadn't made it.

Sammy moved past the agent and his aunt suddenly. Aitana made a move to follow until she realized he was drifting closer to his mother while still taking the sights in. Ali was covered in some blood that appeared to be someone else's, perhaps her husband's. She expected Sammy but with her tears and weariness, she fell to her knees. Sammy stopped a couple inches from her and she, not expecting him to give her any such affection, lowered her head. However, Sammy's hand reached over to her, his fingers gently tapping her shoulder. He couldn't say what he felt but he was beginning to show it. And it followed with a hug.

~ 0 ~

The plane ride home was a quieter one, both out of exhaustion and the ending of the case. Most of the team were asleep except for a few. Aitana herself was dozing off when she heard someone take a seat across her.

She shifted in her seat, blinking fast to keep herself awake. She saw Spencer across, smiling at her.

"Did I wake you?"

"No, I...I don't like sleeping here. Then I won't sleep at home," she said, pulling herself into a better sitting position.

"Of course other times you don't exactly sleep at home either, huh?" He said that knowing exactly what it meant. "Have you had any dreams?"

Aitana was hesitant to admit to it but she figured that there wouldn't be any other people like them who would understand. "A couple, yeah."

"If you ever want to talk about them—it doesn't have to be with me—the team knows about it." Spencer remembered how it went when he started getting those nightmares in the beginning. Lots of ways not to sleep ended up overwhelming his mind for a while.

"Thanks," Aitana said. The dreams hadn't been that bad yet and maybe, because of everything else she already lived through, they wouldn't get any worse.

"I also—" Spencer started again, smiling slightly, "—wanted to come over and apologize."

"What?" Aitana blinked, expression twisting into confusion. "For what?"

"For getting a little worked up about the drawings."

"Ah," Aitana couldn't help the smirk that crossed her lips. "I thought it was funny. I didn't even know I could irritate you that much."

Spencer shook his head at her. "You didn't."

"Spencer, it's okay. I wasn't upset. Like I said, it was more funny than anything."

"Still. You were more right than I was."

"Was I?" Aitana scrunched her face.

"You talked about them looking more like angles and I should've paid more attention to that because you were right in a way. They were angles that were Time."

"I kept saying pacman—how very FBI agent-y of me. And mature."

Spencer chuckled. "Funny. I thought you were funny. I didn't even know somebody could bring that into this type of work."

"I grew up with brothers so my sense of humor is a little bit off."

"Looks good to me."

Aitana smiled shyly. For a moment, she didn't know what to do with herself nor how to keep the conversation going. (She ignored the realization that she wanted to keep the conversation going). Her eyes flickered to the coffee pot up ahead and decided it was best to stay awake for the rest of the flight. "I'm going to get some coffee," she announced. "You want some sugar?" Spencer raised an eyebrow at her and her growing smirk. "You know, for that coffee?"

"Oh, so you've been talking to Morgan," he sighed.

Aitana giggled. "A little. For somebody who skipped part of elementary school and all of middle school, you're a bit slow sometimes."

Spencer deadpanned her as she stood up, though a smile briefly marked his face when she walked past him and patted his shoulder.

#ocappreciation #fd: criminal minds #criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid fics #spencer reid imagines #spencer reid x oc #criminal minds fics #criminal minds imagines #cm #cm fics #cm imagines #oc: aitana serrano #fic: against all odds

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ashneedsmilk · 2 years

Note

Hi, may i please request a Viktor x Reader where the Reader sends Viktor nudes/leaves dirty notes for him to find (or something like that) while he's working late nights? I'd also love if someone else finds/almost finds one of them and Viktor's reaction to a situation like that. Sorry if it's a weird/long request, it's kinda difficult for me to describe in English but if you wrote anything similar I'd be super happy.

-Omg wait... I'm putting this in the ‘Bold Reader’ category and I'm not totally sure if there are phones in Arcane but I'm adding them in just for this request cuz WOAH. This will be in two halves btw I am planning to make a second part since this one was so short so stay tuned for that in the near future :)-

Viktor x Bold Reader PT.21/2 NSFW

Contains: Masturbating, Nudes, Y/n giving no fucks, Brat!Reader, Viktor being hornee, Jayce being tolerable

“Uhm- V-Viktor..?” Jayce turned to look at his lab partner upon hearing the faint sound of moaning coming from his phone. Viktor practically jumped in his spot, realizing that he had been paralyzed in a state of shock and sexual frustration when Jayce was right behind him. He turned the volume up on accident as he tried to turn it down before deciding to shut his phone off completely.

He staggered in his spot to meet Jayce, red-faced with beads of sweat dripping down his neck. He fought off the growing erection in his pants and rubbed his hands down the sides of them to clean off the sweat building on his palms. “Hey... I get that porn... could be e-enjoyable at times but the hex- weren’t you the one that said hex before se-“

“You’d be mistaken to believe it was pornography, Jayce. It was merely just that one artist Y/n listens to occasionally... CupcakKe?” Viktor explained with a cough, turning back around to face his desk and attempting to calm himself down. Jayce went silent for a moment before he remembered... “OHHH... yeah they’ve sent me some of their music. I get it now” The taller man laughed and Viktor sighed out in relief, hands clenching at his chest to steady the rhythm his beating heart. “Well then... I need to head out for a bit, nature calls” Jayce sighed, walking himself out of the room and shutting the door behind him.

Viktor waited five, six, ten seconds, accompanied by no other but the silence in the room before pulling his phone out of his pocket and lowering his volume. Unlocking it, another uncontrolable blush creeped from his ears to his cheeks when typing out the letters of his lovers name quickly. He could practically do it with his eyes closed, his muscle memory now strong after memorizing where his fingers needed to go.

Viktor peaked behind him momentarily, returning to his private messages with Y/n to reply hastily and reviewing the videos and pictures they had sent yet again.

Y/n <3

Y/n <3:

Attachment: 1 image

Attachment: 1 video

Viktor:

Y/n. If you wished for my attention, why stay at home today?

My volume had been up, Jayce heard.

Y/n <3:

EXCUSE ME? D:

Viktor:

I had to make up an excuse Y/n.

Y/n <3:

You don’t want me? :(

Viktor tensed. He could vividly imagine you whining out those words, arms wrapped around his neck, whispering teasingly into his ear. Visions of the attachments they sent flashed throughout his mind and Viktor could already feel himself hardening for the second time in under the span of five minutes. Their hands were skillfully used to play with themself as they filmed in front of their bedrooms closet mirror containing Viktor’s and their own clothes. Y/n’s legs were spread where the struggling man had his face in between the night before, breathing shakily as they trembled with orgasmic pleasure. Viktor rewatched the video, feeling reather intoxicated by the way Y/n’s eyes rolled back. Their form weakened, thighs squeezed before the camera had slipped leaving only the ceiling for Viktor to see and his imagination to run wild. The distant, vocal moaning of their climax pushing him over the edge of frustration.

Y/n <3:

Check the lunch I made you today, there’s a note inside

Originally I was going to let you do all those things to me but since you seem upset rn maybe its better off for another day

I’ll be here waiting for your return then :) I wanted cuddles anyways

Have an amazing rest of your day at the lab Vik ilyilyilyilyily <3

A warm feeling rushed over Viktor, his cheeks warm and stomach filled with butterflies as he read Y/n’s final texts. Certainly, he loved them dearly. It felt overwhelming how much adoration he had for them. How much he’d give to spend the rest of his life with them... and Y/n had already promised he didn't need to give anything, for they felt the same way about him...

Viktor:

I love you too Mon cher

Viktor sighed, his chest heaving before a brow quirked up, curious to see what note Y/n was talking about. He trudged over to his bag, taking out the packed lunch Y/n had always made him. They usually ate together in the lab, but of course... they had decided to stay home that day for god knows what. Maybe they did this just to mess with the poor scientist...

Unfolding the cream-tinted paper that was hidden beneath all his food items, Viktor began reading the words out mentally. Glad he had chosen to keep silent as Y/n had described thoroughly of all the things little ol’ V was allowed to do with them later that night, their signature beautifully written at the end of the page.

“Jayce Talis is back!” The door slammed open and Viktor jumped, dropping Y/n’s teasing note onto the floor where Jayce had been walking to. “Could you knock!?” The brunette said with a heavy accent, struggling to bend down and pick up the reason for the raging boner growing inside his pants. Jayce stopped in front of him and picked up the note. “Hey we share this lab don’t we? It’s me you and Y/n!” The other scientist grinned, knowing Viktor could not tell him off for that.

But Viktor could not care less for whatever statement Jayce had made... but the fucking note. His heart had never dropped so quick, eyes wide and face red with embarrassment and fear. “Here ya go bud”

Jayce smiled, minding his own business as he payed no attention to Viktor or the note. He didin’t even unfold it to read whatever was inside...

The shorter boy’s heart still palpitates, sighing in relief as he stood up striaght, quick to stuff his note back in his lunch bag. Just for later...

#arcane #arcane league of legends #arcane viktor x reader #arcane viktor #viktor arcane #arcane viktor x you #viktor arcane x reader #viktor arcane x you #viktor x reader #viktor x y/n #machine herald viktor

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swinterr · 3 years

Text

fic rec vii ♡

hi!

this is a another new set of fic rec and i’ll probably do a compilation of genre (?) just like the first ones.

read and support the fic and authors here: the fic rec ♡

made some changes like tidying up a bit and adding summary, for those that doesn’t have any summary i’ll try my best to add my own summary (it will probably be shit tho, i ain’t making a smut summary guys, i’m not confident in my describing a fic ability but i’ll try my best. if its in italic it means i made the summary hehez ) if the summary is shit, i made it okay.

a for angst

f for fluff

s for smut

// for series or list

kpop oc/s

1. jane by @baejiyeonz

2. bee by @purpleyellow

3. lian by @nct-lian

4. taehui by @jeontaehui

nct

sungchan

1. [10:47 pm] by @dont-look-down-on-me | f

- based on the nct relay cam.

haechan

1. [5:21] by @dont-look-down-on-me | f

- based on the nct relay cam.

2. you’re warm by @dreamystuffers | f

- a drunk hyuck can only mean a clingy hyuck.

3. you’re short too by @pastelsicheng | f

- 5 times hyuck teases u for ur height.

4. no title by @heychan | s

- dirty thought cockwarming haechan and johnny comes in to the room while you are trying to hide it but haechan doesn’t care.

5. wishes by @lucaswithnoshirt | a f

- standing on stage is everything you’ve dreamed of. except in the time it’s taken you to get there, you’ve been dreaming about other things, too.

jaehyun

1. moving in: the series by @jaehyun-ified | f

- after agreeing to move-in with jaehyun, you decided to curate a little series on your channel to both give in to your viewer’s request to have jaehyun frequently on your contents and to document your moving in process with the love of you life.

2. [8:14 pm] by @dont-look-down-on-me | f

- based on the nct relay cam.

3. boyfriend by @simpsiren | a

- a relationship with jaehyun wasn’t always perfect. there wasn’t a definite label on it, which only sent the relationship down a complicated pathway as we tried to find the meaning of our love once again.

4. best part by @okayoongii | f

- don’t know how to describe this tho, just read it. also 10/10

5. can i help you? by @sugarjaee | f s

- when working an extra long shift at work, your boyfriend surprises you with a visit.

6. stages of love by @biletdoux | a f s

- a playlist for the trials and tribulations of a beating heart.

7. [9:04 am] by @jeongvision | // f

- domestic fluffy blurb. 10/10!!

8. suds by @kim-taehung | s

- first person to move does the dishes for a week. nothing is off-limits.

9. promise by @bvbyxuxi | f a

- jaehyun has loved you since you were both kids, things were going well until he messed everything up; meeting again as young adults, he refuses to let you go again but would you give him another chance?

mark

1. one minus on plus one by @wonjaekook | f a

- in all of the years you’ve known jungwoo, you should have figured out to not take his words at face value because, though you haven’t even met, mark lee seems to hate your guts.

2. [12:03] by @dont-look-down-on-me | f

- based on the nct relay cam.

3. pretty boy by @epinebleue | f a

- fluff, the tiniest bit of angst, the reader is two years older than mark, jaehyun makes an appearance as the reader’s fuck buddy, use of alcohol and drugs (marijuana), mentions of violence (mark punches someone), smut (protected sex, inexperienced!mark, dry humping).

4. camera flash by @morkleemelon | f

- mark taking a picture but forgot to remove flash waking up oc, pretty fluffy and cute! 10/10!!!

5. retrouvailles by @kireimarkeu | f

- counting down the days until you finally see your long-distance boyfriend.

jungwoo

1. [1:14 pm] by @dont-look-down-on-me | f

- based on the nct relay cam.

johnny

1. man-icure by @haejunehui | f

- based on jcc ep. 26

taeyong

1. reverb by @lovingonrepeat | s

- taeyong + studio sex.

2. unspoken by @bvbyxuxi | f s

- you had never thought to see taeyong again after your one night stand with him until this year where he takes you by surprise; turns out he wasn’t the guy you sought him out to be after all.

ten

1. [2:32 pm] by @dont-look-down-on-me | f

- based on the nct relay cam.

lucas

1. [4:31 pm] by @dont-look-down-on-me | f

- based on the nct relay cam.

2. king of hearts by @raibebe | f s a

- a little bit of everything, a chef’s kiss.

yuta

1. [5:51 pm ] by @dont-look-down-on-me | f

- based on the nct relay cam.

doyoung

1. redamancy by @heavenlyhaechan | f

- this is just so fluffy! i wished to be doyong gf please.

2. fools together by @yongiefilms | f

- two fools in love with each other?

3. acedia by @jaeminscoffee | f

- a day in the life of yours and doyoung's love life.

4. our little secret by @haejunehui | f

- read to know their little secret. hehe.

5. caught red handed by @hannie-dul-set | f

- all you wanted to do was take a picture of the handsome law student during your train ride home. you did not expect things to end up like this.

jeno

1. i see red by @0097linersb | s

- pure filth 🥵10/10 tho.

2. addiction by @love-mi | s f

- you and jeno keep your relationship a secret to avoid backlash from your companies and fans; but keeping himself away only makes him want you more.

3. surprise visit by @nakamotonudes | f s

- you hadn’t seen your boyfriend for over a month because of his hectic schedule so when he suddenly shows up at your place one night for a surprise visit, you both have to make every second worth it.

bts

jungkook

1. the pitter-patter of the heart by @koorara | f s a //

- pieces of newlywed domestic moments with jungkook, your husband. the young film and literature lecturer and his wife, you, who works as a journalist of a web magazine. both of you managing the career, the time for each other and the new house. not to forget, chip, the cat that has been with you for years.

2. please love me by @ahundredtimesover | // f s a

- as the only unmarried jeon and kim children, your families propose a union to symbolize your unbreakable bond that spans generations. but despite developing an affection for jungkook growing up, he never returned it; he never seemed to like you, actually. you’re okay with the proposal, but surprise surprise, he isn’t.

3. first love, last love by @floralseokjin | f s //

- a collection of drabbles following the longterm relationship between jungkook and you...

4. second chances by @parkhabits | a s

- work. one of the most important things to him. It kept him company at night, it was all he thought about, all he put his attention to. his work had become the mistress within your marriage. years after you left him you’re back with only one goal in mind. get him to sign the damn divorce papers. yet you should’ve known that your husband wouldn’t let you go that easily.

5. crush by @jungxk | f s

- jungkook woke up with amnesia (?) he totally forgets that he has a wife and child. and he totally has a huge crush on his wife.

6. bare necessities by @gguksgalaxy | f s a

- when you ask your boyfriend for a relaxing vacation you don’t exactly expect him to take you to disneyland out of all places. luckily, jungkook knows just how to get you to relax — being needy is definitely not the way. or is it…

7. krampus for christmas by @ddaenysus | f

- when your daughter overhears your nightly activities close to christmas, jungkook takes it upon himself to convince her it was the sounds of the legendary demon goat.

8. a date with destiny by @imjustfanfictrash | f s

- you are a boss lady in the tech industry traveling to world for work. he is a chart-topping artist touring the globe to perform in front of millions of fans. In the cosmos of life, you are not likely to cross paths. luckily, fate has a different plan for you two.

9. stranded by @gguksgalaxy | f s a

- jungkook’s offer to help you study for your exam is unwelcome. his entire presence is unwelcome. you don’t want help from the guy who passes all his classes without even trying. it’s annoying — he is annoying. from the way he grins whenever he catches you staring at him, to the way his eyes shine whenever he smiles at you. oh, and let’s not forget the way his tattoos shift when he stretches or the way his jawline sharpens when he’s focused. nope, you definitely can’t stand him.

10. sprout by @v-hope | f

- after a nice evening out with your friends, you find yourself coming home to your sleeping toddler and the new hairstyle she had tried on your husband.

11. friday nights and take-out by @ahundredtimesover | // f s a

- you meet pop star/idol jeon jungkook at the café, you get close, and as hyejin says, you’re like friends with benefits without the sex. but you’re bad at feelings and so is he.

12. jealousy by @ephemeralkookie | f s a

- jungkook’s closest friend, namjoon is getting married and he invited you three to his wedding. the only unexpected thing was jisoo, his ex, and we’ll just say that you were not too happy to see her flirting with your boyfriend right under your nose

13. a quarter past us by @jjiimin | f a

- when you break up with him out of fear of losing your freedom in university, he finds himself showing you why leaving him isn’t the answer.

14. pretty boy by @angelguk | // f s a

- alternatively known as the jock!jk universe drabbles in vague chronological order.

15. summer solstice by @boulevardk | s

- down on your luck and desperate for a successful harvest, you pray to the gods. you figure no one in heaven was listening to your prayers when nothing happens immediately. but one fateful night, your prayers are answered. are you willing to pay the price? the sacrifice might not be what you were expecting….

16. lilac wisteria by @blushoseoks | f a

- over the years, things change - but the one constant is your love for lilac wisterias.…okay, maybe jungkook’s been there too.or, alternatively:the first time jeon jungkook says that he is going to marry you, you are five years old sitting underneath a large wisteria tree.

17. obsessed with your ass by @kooklovesu | f s

- jungkook has an obsession with your body he cant get enough of praising you. he wasn’t comfy showing the world his affection towards you in public because he’s a private guy, but when he finally did, good luck.

18. from home by @gyukult | // f s a

- jungkook is the youngest of five boys, the last in line to truly inherit any his parents’ money. but what if his mom suddenly cuts him off due to his current poor behavior and he’s forced to learn how it feels like to be part of the working class?

19. black card by @minsprings | // f s

- black card fic and drabbles, also a chef’s kiss.

20. oh my god, they were (quarantined) roommates by @ot7always | f s

- what do you do when you’re quarantined for months on end with jeon jungkook - s tier cuddler, workout robot, and thirst trap extraordinaire? fuck him, you guess.

21. let the games begin by @venusiangguk | s

- just another fic where oc rides jk in his gaming chair pls still read it tho lmao its hot i promise

22. the probability of us by @jiminrings | f s

- jungkook’s the son of the university’s president, y/n’s cardigan is everyone’s favorite, and adjacent walls mean shared victories.

23. open when by @iluv-hobi | f

- jungkook likes to write letters to you, especially ones with purposes, like “open when ___”. one day, on a particularly bad day, you open, “open when you’ve had a shitty day”.

24. good day by @ilikemesometaetaes | f s

- his motive was made quite clear once he called you out of work. he just wanted to spend a nice day with his girlfriend. is that too much to ask for?

25. calculated by @whatifyoulivelikethat | // s

- some people would call you far too serious. some would call you stuck-up. and some would call you a bitch. but to freshman jeon jungkook, you’re the head calculus I TA noona – and he’s determined to fuck you.

26. brat taming by @sugasbabiie | s a f

- jungkook has been your roommate for almost a year. since the day he moved in he has acted like nothing but a spoiled little brat who is used to getting anything and anyone he wants. he eats your food, he doesn’t clean, he’s loud, oh and now he has colored his hair the exact shade of blonde as you. He’ll do anything to get under your skin. you’ve had enough of his filthy mouth and his fuckboy ways. it’s time to tame that bratty little roommate of yours. think you can handle it?

27. sugarplum energy by @bymoonchild | f s a

- you know no bounds nor depth with jungkook. while your fuck buddy loves sleeping in your bed and doing laundry for you with his favourite fabric softener, you are in love with a mysterious honeyed, velvety voice on soundcloud. all’s fine, until you find out that the voice that metaphors your heart to a sweet sugarplum melody actually belongs to the boy who has been taking up a special spot in your bed and in your heart, strumming at your heartstrings all this while. or, jungkook has one braincell, but it’s heart-shaped.

28. ancient history by @moononthejoon | a s f

- there is no way to deny that you and jungkook have chemistry. the two of you used to be a couple, after all. what happens when after a not-so-amicable breakup the two of you are cast as opposite leads of a movie?

29. that’s not daddy by @nochuobsessed | f

- jungkook comes home with a new hair color and his sons can’t tell if he’s appa or not. pretty cute! 10/10

30. no title by @himbojk | s

- jk got a blowie from his oc while on a zoom class meeting, like cam on with a whole set up but his oc under the table sucking the life out of him while he sits and tries to take notes .

31. dilf jk by @himbojk | // s f

- dilf jk drabbles.

32. no title by @himbojk | s

- blond jk with full tattoo sleeve who looks like the baddest boy but is actually baby and just wants a handie in the library while studying with his oc because she aspires to have those high grades.

33. no title by @noteguk | s

- bf!jungkook going down on the reader while they watch anime.

34. silent treatment by @blu-joons | f

- baby kook asking daddy kook to say sorry to mommy. 10/10 too!

35. getting railed by @dearlytea | s

- getting dicked by your boyfriend during a train ride.

36. the view by @koyamuses | s

- jungkook knows exactly what turns you on; every kink, every dirty fantasy that’s buried deep within your mind. he knows exactly how to make you beg for it.

37. let’s play: dirty by @jungkxook | f s

- on today’s stream, watch as the king of gaming jeon jungkook gets totally pwned by some newbie player on overwatch (he swears he was stream sniped)! to make matters worse, he can’t seem to focus anymore when you’re in the room but he promises that’s not because he’s in love with you or anything. use code ‘jungkook’ on any game purchase through steam at checkout for 25% off so that jungkook has something to feel better about! iloveyou btw!

38. more dilf!jk by @cutechim | s

- oc thirsting over jk, talk about finances, jungwoo is an innocent cock-block as infants are, disrespect towards a major film franchise.

39. you are inherently beautiful by @ggukachuwu | f a

- when y/n and jungkook accidentally reveal their relationship to the public because she walked in on him doing a vlive and now netizens and kmedia are tearing apart her appearance because y/n is chubby from struggling with pcos. jungkook takes it upon himself to cheer her up because he absolutely adores her.

40. morning with jk by @min-arya | f

- jungkook drabble of him catching his s/o admiring him in the morning with soft sleepy cuddles.

41. even a forest fire dies out by @9uk | a s

- it became from “grab a coffee with me?” to “why should I grab a coffee with you?” too fast for your liking. you had thought the both of you were so in love with each other—only to realise it was only you who had fallen into this trap of feelings. and as for jungkook, he might have just been as confused as you are.

42. all that we had by @starlightauroras-writes | a s

- four years, two months and five days ago, you lost the love of your life with no explanation. living with a failed marriage at such a young age without knowing why was impossibly hard, and when you’re invited to your high school reunion, knowing he would be there, you really don’t want to go. what happens when you do leaves you questioning fate.

43. aquarium by @whatifyoulivelikethat | // a

- life after jeon jungkook was grey. you had to find your own color, grow your own rainbow. but what would surprise you the most is the appearance of white cosmos, seven of them clutched tightly in kim taehyung’s hand.

44. contentment by @btsqualityy | f s

- oc’s using jk’s card to buy rug and the rest is history. 10/10!!

45. heartbreaker with a heart of gold by @filmflowersbangtan | a s

- love this!!! you know i love me some angst! 10/10!!!!!

46. the ikea test by @mercurygguk | f

- you and jeongguk face the IKEA test. successfully? sure!

47. before you universe by @ephemeralkookie | // a f s

- jungkook has taken a huge place in your life after he tattooed you, and you can’t even picture how life was before him. he has always been there for you since day one. but how will things change after you find out you’re pregnant?

48. christmas cream(pie) by @smoochkooks | s f

- a day before christmas dinner with your boyfriend’s parents, you discover another alternative way to use the chocolate cream you’re making. jungkook is more than willing to indulge in your little fantasy.

49. last minute by @moononthejoon | f s

- christmas day had gone by, and now you were back home after holidays with your family. your friends had agreed to have a late christmas party, but as always, you and jungkook procrastinated gift buying.

50. you go in knowing bros together by @blu-joons | f

- a cute fluffy knowing at knowing bros moment.

51. no title by @v-hope | f

- the way y/n would react when someone else flirts with jk and how he’d handle the situation.

52. hair dye by @mercurygguk | f s

- jungkook got his hair dyed while at work. you lose your mind the moment he steps through the door.

53. stay gold by @yeojaa | s

- blond!jk being a good boy?

54. crystal snow by @honeyj00ns | f

- when you join Jungkook and the rest of the guys for some fun in the snow, he can’t help but feel jealous.

55. 6:21 am by @sincerelyourfangirl | f

- in which he makes your morning extra special.

56. plan b by @btsracket | s

- dressing room quickie, unprotected sex request, use of Plan b pill

57. possession by @bngtanah | s

- jungkook is your boyfriend, sometimes you have to remind him what that means.

58. puffs and touches by @mintseesaw | f s

- “Stop doing that with your face, someone else is going to snatch you up”

59. the quiet things by @btsracket | s

- sleeping bag sex.

60. good boy by @ephemeralkookie | s

- secret, read to find out AHAHAHHA.

61. make it right by @jungkxook | a s

- you’re wholeheartedly, madly in love with jungkook and yet you shouldn’t be because it’s been almost a year since you broke up with him. worst part of it all is that you know he’s still in love with you too

62. it takes two by @junghelioseok | s

- struggling with the idea of your ex-boyfriend moving on, you enlist the help of your quiet roommate in a scheme that quickly spirals out of control.

jimin

1. picking petals by @cutechim | s

- you asked for a baby, so a baby is what you’re going to get.

taehyung

1. daddy by @btsracket | f s

- there’s only one choice when this happens on a date out.

2. love me or we both go down by @gukyi | f s a

- after going through with an arranged marriage to please his parents and secure his inheritance of the family business, kim taehyung thinks he’s got it all figured out. he doesn’t. apparently just being married to you isn’t enough, not when everybody and their mother can pick up on the fact that the two of you absolutely loathe each other. but taehyung wants his inheritance one way or another, so he decides that desperate times call for desperate measures: the two of you need to fall in love, and you need to fall in love fast.

3. saudade by @jiminssthetic | a s f

- a demanding idol lifestyle was something taehyung and yourself were all too familiar with. it wasn’t so hard when considering your unconditional love for one another, but lately, taehyung wasn’t the same anymore; and you decide it’s time to find out why.

4. ineffable by @99liners | f

- boyfriend taehyung takes care of his sick s/o.

5. tease by @caiuscassiuss | s

- you knew you were hot. you saw how the guys looked at you, how their eyes were drawn to a tight t-shirt or short skirt. and maybe this would fail epically—crash and burn like a failed experiment—but you wanted to get under kim taehyung’s skin the only way you knew how.

6. aquarium by @whatifyoulivelikethat | // a

got7

yugyeom

1. yugyeom as you boyfriend by @sunshinekookie | f

- i need more yugyeom fics in my life.

astro

eunwoo

1. rainy say saviour by @imsarahbum | f a

- upon seeing you getting bullied after school for being short, dongmin can’t help but step in and defend you - despite both of you not really knowing anything about each other.

anyway, thank you again for the writers please take care and be safe!

please free to recommend your favorite fic that i haven’t feature yet.

if the links won’t work and i labelled some fics wrong please let me know and i’ll try to fix it as soon as possible!

support the fic and the writers!

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harristops · 3 years

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I missed the game - Ash got injured and then saved a PK? Is this a Steph Labbé part two?

You know what, I’ll do you one better, anon. Behold, the entire game summarized in ten gifs, across the span of three minutes of in-game play.

First, the two angles of the supposed penalty and Ash's injury:

Honestly, the call was pretty iffy to me. VAR would’ve been helpful here (Exploria has it, so no idea why it can’t be used in matches, tbh). The first angle looked like a foul, but the second gif made it look like a clean tackle. Le Sommer's body just collides with Ash's outstretched leg resulting it somewhat snapping backwards. Nothing intentional on either end, of course, but both of them got off rather poorly. Clearly, it looked worse on the replay than the actual injury since Ash walked it off, but I've definitely seen someone break their leg or dislocate a kneecap from that kind of collision so she was super lucky.

Then, Pointing™ from the Pride (with a bonus smug Fishlock thanking the ref):

I actually chuckled at how Marissa seemed genuinely more upset than Turner who committed the foul, Taylor was thinking about what she was gonna have for post-game snack, Phoebe with the 'maybe I'll get him to change his mind if I give a little peak of my abs', Strom off in the background contemplating if she should get involved, and finally AK with her hands on her hips in full-on Disappointed Mom™ mode and trying to glare some sense into the ref’s back.

Then we go to Ash pointing at herself with the 'a PK, again? Fine but give me damn minute', while Marissa continues her Oscar-worthy meltdown in the back.

Finally, we had my favourite parts: (1) the deliberate pan over to Britt nervously taking her earrings off and looking like she's just been selected to give an unprepared public speech at her high school graduation; and (2) Jess' cocky 'I'm gonna end this bitch's streak, just watch I got this' completely unaware about Apollo’s gift curse of prophecy coming up in less than a minute.

And finally, the most beautiful moment of the entire match:

And that's it, anon. That was basically the whole game in 3 minutes, 10 gifs, and, what I consider to be, a David Attenborough-calibre commentary (not).

#asks #orlando pride #ashlyn harris #i hope you appreciated this because i spent a lot of time creating these gifs #but damn ash you absolute beast hope you get some icy hot for your back #must be sore from constantly carrying your team??

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hewhofightsbythesword · 3 years

Text

scotch or irish? tommy shelby x reader

warning/s: underage drinking, swearing, violence, and slight smut

inspired by disco pigs (2001)

A/N: I was really high when I came up this idea. Even wrote it while I was high, but I couldn’t find it the next mirning. Wasn’t sure if I really wrote it or if it was a dream. Either way, it’s here lol After like two weeks. Sowwyy

Tommy and y/n. y/n and Tommy. For as long as the pair can remember, that’s the way it has always been. Born only a few months apart, the two created an instant bond so strong that Aunt Polly said it would transcend through many lifetimes. And of course, Aunt Polly was never wrong in the matters of the heart. This was a friendship full of heart, romantic and platonic love for there was not one without the rest. Tommy’s mother would say to Polly, “That boy... it’s his cleverness that’ll kill him.” Martha found herself confiding in her more, so she continued, “As long as Tommy and y/n have each other... I am not worried.” And everyone knew. Everyone except Tommy and y/n.

The two had very similar minds. What one was thinking, the other was already mentally processing and vice versa. It would be almost adorable if it wasn’t so weird, as Arthur Sr. would call it. It was only weird because they were so smart. Against everybody else (even Polly at times, although she would never admit it), they were always two steps ahead.

From a young age the two understood their natural connection. For example, at the age of seven, Tommy and y/n planned to swear a vow of silence together that was planned to last a total of ten days. At first, y/n was met with slight worry from Tommy.

“We need code names! What should I call you if I need you?”

“You won’t have to need me, silly. That’s the whole point! I will already know, and so will you.” The logic was missing. They were both aware of this but none cared.

The goal was set for ten days. Not a single word was uttered between the kids or anyone else for that matter, aggravating the living hell out of those around them, especially Arthur who would’ve done anything to be a part of the joke. However, by day five, y/n broke the vow, rushing her feet as fast as they allowed a few houses down on Watery Lane.

That day she had heard a few of the older Lee boys, around Arthur’s age, speaking down on the Gypsy Shelby’s. y/n just had to tell Tommy or she was sure she would burst. It was also on day five Tommy came to two realizations: (1) He too would break their vow of silence. There was nothing worth doing if it meant he couldn’t do it with the person who understood him the most. (2) Tommy decided that same day that y/n, in her own right, was a Shelby too.

“Shelby,” he whispers to himself, only for him to hear.

At age 15, y/n was able to convince Tommy to steal a bottle of whiskey from the local pub. Her little hands shoved a piece of a paper with instructions in his direction. “Meet me here,” was all she told him with big eyes before he could even get a word in, running back to whatever held her short attention span. Unfolding the paper, Tommy could see a drawn out map of where to find the only girl who could keep young Tommy on his toes.

If anyone asked him, he would tell them all this was something he had to do. Many nights Arthur and Tommy had to go in all hours of the night looking for their father in pubs. One night in a drunken haze, Arthur Sr. takes his second born by the shoulders, causing him to be dragged onto the floor next to his father. He takes his boy by the face, shaking it a few times to show how serious he was trying to be.

“A man is meant to provide, always. Be a man, Thomas.”

y/n asked and Tommy planned to provide.

Seeing the large “X” marking the destination, it matched the location right before Tommy’s eyes. It was a beautiful far away, empty place from Watery Lane with lots of surrounding nature. It had just finished raining. y/n always did like the way the rain made the earth smell.

She notices her friend right away and runs up to him. y/n takes him by the hand. “I found my favorite tree here. Come on,” she says very nonchalantly.

Tommy shakes his head behind her. “Of course you did, Shelby. Of course you did.”

y/n often thought the world moved too slow for her liking. She always liked to be out and about. Always wild, never to be tamed. She figures that’s why she likes the Shelby’s so much. She was blessed to find a family early in her life that matched her soul. Except, she knows why she likes Tommy so much. He liked to be wild too. He moved just as fast as y/n, and he thought just as fast as her. So there was no doubt in her mind once she tasked her best friend with the alcohol that he'd deliver.

“I just took the first one I saw and ran like hell.” He presents y/n the bottle.

“Scotch whiskey,” y/n reads the label out loud before opening it. Tommy at this point began to see the trouble that she carried within her starting to stir. Confirming this intuitive feeling, y/n goes to make a quick toast like the kind she has seen her father make with Tommy’s. “To your Aunt Pol who would kill you if she ever knew, Thomas Shelby,” she groans out as she takes the first large swing with the most confidence. Even from when they were children, Tommy always wondered how so much confidence could fit in such a small body.

He takes the bottle from her to mimic her actions. “To my Aunt Polly who will find out by the week’s end.” They both laugh before Tommy takes his sip, but when he does, he takes it differently than y/n. “What the fuck, y/n. How can you even drink that shit?” He spits and coughs as he attempts to recover.

“What? I like it.” She shrugs while going for another.

At age 18, Tommy realized he loved y/n. By the time Tommy turned eighteen, it came to no surprise to anyone that he was already turning out to be a ladies man. Girls turning into young women were quick to notice his dark hair and hypnotic blue eyes. He was different than any of the factory worker boys that took after their fathers. He was ambitious. He wanted more to life than what dirty old Birmingham could offer, and the young women knew this so in some way, it even made it seem okay that his last name was Shelby. Almost as if Tommy was being pardoned for being a Shelby. And he hated that feeling.

y/n never made Tommy feel that way. She was always the first and the last one to defend her friend since birth. Crowned by Tommy all those years ago, she was Shelby. What else could have made her break her vow with Tommy all those years ago? Tommy didn’t realize exactly what he was realizing at the time. How could he? They were kids being kids. He couldn’t have known it was loyalty. If it wasn’t clear to Tommy then, it was now.

“You need to get out of here. Go get Arthur and John. This is no place for a woman,” Tommy warns y/n one night out, sensing trouble.

The two found themselves cornered by a group of boys around their age. The Peaky Blinders were gaining respect, notoriety, and fear from those around them. Things were changing for the Shelby’s, but not everyone agreed. Most certainly not the three boys looking for a fight. “Run!”

“No!” She hisses back. She tightens her fist and holds them up.

“There is no fucking way I’m letting you do this.”

“Either I leave to get the boys and we come back to your half-dead body, if we’re lucky or I stay and fight and we may actually win this.” Truth be told, y/n wished she could listen to Tommy and go get his brothers. But more than the fear she felt for herself, it was tenfold for Tommy.

“Damn you, Shelby.” he tells her as the fight breaks out.

No words were exchanged on the walk to The Garrison. It seemed like all of the day’s events were forcing Tommy to think about the vow they made when they were seven. Only this time, Tommy could see the logic she proposed. He did know what she was thinking because he was so sure she was thinking the same as him.

“Whiskey, Harry,” was all Tommy said, not bothering to spare the man a glance. y/n goes to sit at a table like they always do but was stopped by Tommy. He latches onto her hand, careful with the cuts and bruises that were beginning to form. “No,” he tells her, “We’ll be in the snug.” And no one protested. They may have wanted to but at the sight of blood on their clothes and on his razor blade, no one dared to speak out against the Blinder.

Not long after Harry delivers two glasses of whiskey through the snug’s window. “Give the toast, Shelby,” he gives the cup to y/n.

Her eyes never leave his. Even with exhaustion hijacking them, y/n could not name a more beautiful sight. “To you, Tommy. To the best and worst pal in the world.”

In his state of shock, Tommy failed to clink their glasses together, so y/n did it. The sound pulls him out of his own swirling thoughts, and they down their drink in an instant. Like the siamese twins they are, a look of disgust and twinge of horror overtake their faces.

“Scotch.”

“Irish.”

They both spit out like venom but were quick to laugh it off. “You gave me the wrong cup, Thomas!”

“Hey, come on now. I’m still Tommy. I’m just a bloody idiot for not knowing the difference.”

Only a few moments later, the laughing winds down a bit. The atmosphere still remains light only to be shattered. “Why don’t you love me?” He blurts out to y/n. “Like the way I love you?”

y/n’s content smile never falters. “I believe you have been too busy to notice me, Tommy. I’ve been right here. Because if you would have just asked, I would’ve said I loved you too. And I do... love you too.”

He smiles at her. “The best and worst pal in the world.”

y/n could feel her heart begin to hammer against her chest. She no longer felt like she was sitting down but floating. With the adrenaline from the fight gone, she should have been able to feel her wounds mark their place on her skin. But that’s not true. All she could feel was a warm, tight feeling in her chest. The boy she loved, loved her back. And no amount of irish whiskey could ever compare.

“Do you trust me?”

“With my whole heart.”

Tommy’s eyes searched y/n’s for any trace of hesitance or fraud but found none. All he could see were the eyes of the girl he loved the most. And most importantly, the girl loved him back.

He stands up to speak to Harry through the snug’s window and comes back shortly after. “Come here, Shelby.”

“Why?”

“Because I want to kiss the only girl in all of Small Heath that I love.” At that, y/n had no protests.

Their kiss was nothing less of what the two expected. It wasn't awkward. Nerve wracking, sure, but not awkward. Many nights y/n dreamt about this very moment. She dreamt how Tommy’s lips would feel against hers. She often wondered what kind of lover he was. And now she knows, leaving her with no more thoughts to wonder about.

She is the first one to pull away. “I have loved you since we were seven and you called me “Shelby” for the first time.” She places desperate kisses onto his lips, cheeks, and neck. Anywhere they would fall, really, leaving traces of pure love behind.

Tommy feels like he is starting to lose control once her pillow soft lips attack his neck. “Tell me again, y/n. Let me hear you.”

“I love you,” She reminds him in between her kisses.

“Shelby... if you keep doing that, I’m not sure how much gentleman will be left in me.”

She looks up from the spot on his neck she was loving on, having found his sweet spot. “This one? Right here?” She asks, feigning innocence as she lightly bites down. When she hears his soft moan, her tongue laps at the spot relieving it only to finish off with a few kisses.

Before the last one can even land, Tommy’s hand finds her neck to take control once more. He doesn’t squeeze nor does he have a rough hold. He merely wraps his fingers around the neck he will one day dress in the biggest jewels. Tommy guides y/n to the edge of the table and pushes her to lay on it.

“Here, Tommy?” She giggles watching her best friends crawl on top of her

He shushes her with more wet kisses. “No one will come in. It’s just me and you.” His hands caress, squeeze, and tease whatever he can.

“It’s yours, Tommy, my heart. It’s all yours.”

He wraps his hand under her hair that was sprawled over the table into a makeshift ponytail. “Mine,” he proves when he finally feels all of her. His eyes never hers, wanting to sear the memory of the exact moment she became his. Pain overtakes her face but her hands on his lower back right above his ass lets him know she was okay. After a while, y/n signals Tommy to start moving once more and pain starts to transform into a pleasure y/n never thought was possible.

All the sounds the two were making were sure to be drowned out by the ruckus made by the drunk men just outside the snug. Tommy was sure to tell Harry that no one else was allowed in under any circumstances. In his moment of euphoria, Tommy was ready to wet his razor blade for the second time that night should anyone dare barge in and take a look at what belonged to him.

This wasn’t Tommy’s first time but it was the first time he realized all what sex could be. All the men in his life were wrong. He was wrong. It didn’t have to be all what they said it should. All he ever needed was y/n. Now that he had her, he had no intention of ever letting go.

Basking in the momentary afterglow of his best orgasm, he says, “You know what, Shelby? I don’t think I mind scotch whiskey all that much anymore,” his thumb traces y/n lower lip, even getting it slightly moist, “Not when the taste comes from your lips. My lips.”

#peaky blinders #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders imagine #thomas shelby #thomas shelby fanfic #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby fanfiction #thomas shelby imagine

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angstsfordays · 3 years

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Beautiful Pain (1)

Chapter One- A post-Blip world

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Enhanced!Reader

Summary: Post-Blip, you started to feel lost when most of the Avengers team are gone. Coping with your loss, you still find hope in the connection with your remaining friends. However, it is not easy as everyone is trying to figure their lives after the Blip.

Having a long history with Bucky ever since you both saved each other from Hydra, you were still glad you had Bucky after all this time. However, as you try to give Bucky space to find himself after being pardoned for his past, you start to wonder if you should ever cross the line of friendship before it’s too late.

That thought might have to be put on hold though, when you, Sam and Bucky find yourselves having to deal with threats that continue to rise in a post-blip world.

Chapter synopsis: Post-Blip, you find yourself more alone than ever as old friends are forever gone. You and Bucky struggle with finding life's purpose while trying to move on.

Warnings: Angst. A lot of guilt and self-blaming. Spoiler for ep 1 if you haven't seen it!

Word count: 2.4k

Notes: Here's the first chapter of the series! Check out the prologue if you have not done so! It gives you an insight into the OC's background and history with Bucky before TFATWS.

Hope you enjoy this read!

Opening up a tag list for the first time since I have gotten a request! Message or comment to let me know!

Leave a like, reblog or comment to let me know what you think! 🥰

Previous: Prologue | Next: Chapter Two |

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Present-day

Bucky felt his heart stopped for a moment when he realised what he was about to do to the terrified man from his dreams. Before he could imagine the next scene, his eyes flew wide open and he immediately sat up.

Assessing his surroundings to see that the television was still on, he realised he was home and have woken up from a nightmare. Even though Hydra’s brainwashing has been removed, the memories from his dark past continued to plague him.

The summer blanket you got for him pooled around his waist, his right hand reached out to give it a soft squeeze. The soft texture of the fabric comforted him emotionally as he sat on the cold hard floor. As he regained steady breathing, he looked around to see that it was still the early hours of the night.

He reached out for his flip phone- the one you couldn’t believe he insisted to buy over a regular smartphone. Pressing the buttons, he went to his inbox to see an unread message from you. Bucky contemplated opening it but decided to continue when he decided he wanted to hear from you.

Ever since the blip occurred, the days and weeks seemed to be a blur. Sooner than he realised, six months had just passed like that.

When Steve decided to go back to the past for good, all three of you including Sam were at a sudden loss. Bucky was disappointed but not surprised at Steve’s decision. Sam wanted the best for Steve and showed his support.

However, you were the most affected out of the group. He knew that despite putting a brave front, you were struggling with the loss of your friends in a short span of time. After all, you had spent a good amount of time with the Avengers and had a developed a close relationship with most of the team.

Bucky remembered how you immediately slumped to the floor when you heard the news about Natasha. You were at a loss of words before you started to break down when Steve went to comfort you. You always regarded Natasha as an older sister so her death hit you hard.

He recalled how you held back your tears at Tony’s funeral as you did not want to further bring down the atmosphere when Pepper and Morgan were there. He remembered how Tony was like an annoying but endearing older brother.

When Steve was disappeared from his spot, you didn’t think much of it thinking he would return in a matter of seconds after returning the stones. However, when all three of you looked to see an ageing Steve, you were the first to run up to him. Despite the astonishing expression that painted your face, you reached out to hold Steve’s hands to check if he was real.

Steve’s decision to pass Sam the shield was no surprise to Bucky. Even though Bucky found Sam irritating at times, Bucky knew he was a good man.

While you chose to accept Steve’s choice, it started to sink into your mind that the people once closest to you were gone or getting further. Bucky remembered how you were reluctant to let Steve walk away and Steve let you hold onto him longer.

You and Bucky decided to not let each other be alone that night. You two figured that at least you had each other and you wanted to cherish that.

-------------------—---//----------------------------

Moving forward, Sam had decided to find work with the U.S air force. Sam checked in on Bucky from time to time but Bucky contemplated to respond. After being pardoned for his past, Bucky found himself compensated but he still felt like a prisoner.

He was required to attend court-mandated therapy sessions to make sure he was doing well. You know that it was just a way for the government to have him under surveillance and in check.

He might be the oldest prisoner of war but he was still a super soldier and one with a vibranium arm. Bucky knew he was still deemed as dangerous in their eyes.

When you and Bucky discussed how to move forward, he confided that he wanted to make amends and you showed your support. When he asked about you, you seemed hesitant and a little lost for an answer.

The Avengers are gone. There was no more S.H.I.E.L.D.

Who were you now? What are you fighting for? What is going to be your purpose moving forward? These were all the questions swimming in your head.

You were reluctant to tell Bucky yet but a government official had paid you a visit while you were waiting for Bucky to finish his therapy session.

You were offered a position in a task force to maintain global security in light of a post-blip world. Given your abilities, you were viewed as an invaluable asset. However, you knew better than to take their words for it.

Revealing your hesitance, the official took a harder approach and laid out the truth. You were viewed as a potential threat if you were to not co-operate with the government. You are an unsupervised enhanced individual that is roaming freely. They do not want to allow that in the event that you were to do anything out of your own jurisdiction.

It was the Sokovia Accords all over again, you thought. The official added that you no longer had the Avengers team to fall back on. His words only added to the ache in your heart as you were reminded of your lost friends.

Additionally, he let off that Wanda had been involved in an event that caused the government to review their management of enhanced individuals in the country. Wanda was out of their reach but you were still around. They knew that you have been sticking by Bucky and thus decided to come for you.

Remembering Steve's words from the times of the civil war between the Avengers, you were not able to let yourself trust any words that the official said.

You didn’t want to let yourself be controlled especially by the government whom you knew had hidden agendas that they would not reveal to you. Their words of praises of how you would be a great addition made you felt like you would be nothing more than a tool in their master plans.

“What if I refuse?” You spoke to the official. The official's eyes hardened and his jaw clenched.

“Then Ms L/N, we will have to view you as a threat to national and global security.” You scoffed at his words when you stared dead into his eyes.

“You forgot that I was one of the many to help fight Thanos and brought the world back. This is how you decided to treat me after giving my service to this country? To this world?” You shot back in distaste.

You turned your back on the guy and walked off without giving him a chance to answer.

--------------------------//--------------------------

Hey Buck, I managed to find Wanda and decided to accompany her for a bit. She needs someone now.

I will let you know when I am back.

Don’t miss me too much ok! ;)

Bucky couldn’t help the smile that formed on his face at your last sentence. He missed you but he knew that you had things to attend to. He understood how much you valued your remaining friends. Wanda, being one of them.

-----------------—-----//---------------------———

Bucky sighed when he realised that he was not going to get away easy with today’s therapy session. Dr Raynor was really trying to push his buttons and even took out her darn notebook again.

That ticked Bucky off the most and he reluctantly gave in. He began to share about how he crossed another name on his list of amends. Dr Raynor then gave her opinion about how even making amends wasn’t able to help with his nightmares.

Bucky continued to deny that he had any at all but he knew Dr Raynor was not convinced. Glimpsing down briefly with an unconvinced look, Dr Raynor looked back up to Bucky.

“Look. One day, you’re gonna have to open up and understand that some people really do want to help you and that they can be trusted.”

“I trust people.” Not all but maybe just one. Only one person came to his immediate thought.

“Yeah, give me your phone.” Dr Raynor put aside her notebook before reaching over to take Bucky’s phone from him. As she searched up his contact list, she remarked that there wasn’t even ten numbers in it.

“Oh, and you’ve been ignoring the texts from Sam. Look, you gotta nurture friendships.” She spoke before noting that she was the only person Bucky called all week and how sad it was.

Dr Raynor was going to continue before she stopped herself. She opened up the chat with your name and read your last message to Bucky.

“What about Y/N?”

“What about her?” Bucky retorted.

“Seems like she’s someone you are close to?” Dr Raynor tried to imply something.

“She’s a friend,” Bucky answered firmly. Dr Raynor gave Bucky a glance before probing further. “I’ve seen her around before when she accompanied you at the beginning of your session. She seems nice.”

“She is,” Bucky answered curtly once more before deciding to shoot back, knowing his therapist was trying to probe more than he was willing to share. “What are you insinuating, doc?”

“Nothing. I am glad you at least have one friend. But you need to make more connections with other people.” Dr Raynor tried explaining. Bucky drifted off in his thoughts for a moment, thinking about how he didn’t need more people. He was fine with just you but he didn’t want to let on more than he wanted to.

He didn’t feel the need to explain about his relationship with you when you knew you two were solid. Bucky sighed internally when his therapist asked him what he wanted. Bucky thought of the calm and peace he had in Wakanda, his mind replaying the moments of you and him living a carefree life on the farm.

When he was told that he was finally free, he questioned “to do what?”. Was he ever truly free? The memories from his past, the long list of amends he had in his notebook. Could he ever truly be free from the guilt that constantly plagues him?

As Bucky made his way back to his apartment, he spotted his neighbour, Yori arguing with another neighbour, Unique over the trash. He reassured that he could take care of Yori to this Unique fellow before catching up with the grumbling old man in the alley.

Bucky convinced him that he would give a treat at their usual sushi place and that managed to pacify Yori’s mood.

-------------—-----——//---------------------——

When they were at Izzy’s, Yori mentioned how no one made it past 90 years in the obituary of the newspaper. The familiar waitress came up to the two and remarked if they were feeling adventurous since they did not order the usual.

Giving him a slight smirk, Yori suggested that Bucky should ask her out. Bucky immediately shook his head and gave Yori a bewildered look like he was crazy.

“Why not? Are you seeing that pretty friend of yours that always come to visit?” Bucky knew Yori was referring to you and immediately tried to refute the notion.

“Y/N’s just a friend.”

“Could have convinced me otherwise. You two seem really close.” Yori scoffed at Bucky’s statement.

“Such a pity. If I were 50 years younger, I would have made a move already.” Bucky chuckled at how Yori, despite being a grumpy senior most of the times, actually tried to make a witty joke. He silently agreed that you were indeed a catch and how it was crazy you have not been with anyone.

Well then again, you have always been with him all this while. Of course, as a friend, Bucky tried to convince himself that there was no way he would have a shot with you. You were too good for him and you definitely deserved someone better.

Even though he tried to convince himself, Bucky does not know what to do if you had managed to find someone and will eventually leave him to be on his own. He shook himself out of his inner thoughts and before he knew it, Yori spoke to the waitress.

“He would like to take you out on a date.” Bucky’s eyes shot wide open when he realised what Yori had actually done. Bucky tried to apologise on behalf of Yori for his bizarre behaviour but the waitress did not seem to mind. In fact, she was game and agreed.

After she went off to attend to other customers, Bucky shook his head and couldn’t believe Yori actually became his wingman. Yori then suddenly went silent for a moment. Bucky was nervous before hearing how Yori spoke of his beloved son who had passed away due to an incident.

Bucky listened intently with the guilt gnawing in his gut, his heart heavy with all of the weight of the world.

------———------------//------------------------—

Bucky convinced himself to go on the date with Leah. He decided to give himself the chance to make more connections as Dr Raynor had advised. The date was going well in fact. Leah seemed like a great gal but Bucky felt himself holding back.

There were just too many secrets he was holding in. What would she think if she knew who he really was? Would she even want to be in the same room as him then?

While he tried the whole online dating thing (much to your masked disappointment and amusement), he was not convinced if he could really make a romantic connection with anyone. Who was he kidding? Could he ever?

When the topic of conversation turned to Yori, the overwhelming sensation started to descend onto Bucky’s consciousness. Before he could stop, he immediately tapped out. Giving a pathetic excuse, Bucky rushed back to Yori’s apartment and had the urge to tell him the truth.

However, when he saw the altar that Yori had dedicated to his son, Bucky withdrew himself. He did not want to lose a friend in Yori even though he was dying to say the truth.

Bucky pretended to come up with an excuse to a confused Yori by paying his half of lunch before stalking off. When Bucky returned to his place, he opened up his notebook and stared at Yori’s name.

What was he to do?

A ring on his phone averted his intense thoughts and he reached for his phone.

Hey Buck, I am done on my side.

Would be back soon!

Can’t wait to see you again, missed you!

Bucky clutched his phone tighter and brought it close to his heart. He started counting down the hours till he could welcome you back in his arms.

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#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes #thefalconandthewintersoldier #tfatws #marvel fanfiction #angstsfordays #beautiful pain

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interstellarflowers · 3 years

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Professor Parker Ch. 1| Professor, Peter Parker x Student, Reader

a/n this fic doesn’t follow the marvel cinematic universe but assume that peter has been what he’s been through with the exception that tony lived, and bruce is still bruce, sorry but i just can't deal with endgame hulk/bruce rn emotionally or mentally. im sorry nat is still dead but dw i'll actually treat it with respect unlike endgame like goddamn where was her funeral, am i right? the stages of grief thing they did was interesting though. im sorry i digress, this is set in nyc (because heyo im a new yorka) and the avengers/stark tower is still a thing, peter is fucking traumatized and has turned kind of cold as a result. this fic may contain a smut chapter in the future? not sure yet, where this fic goes depends on the feedback, thanks for reading also sorry im not the proudest of this first chapter so ill probably edit it but promise itll only improve from here just not in the best mental state rn

University life wasn’t exactly everything that you imagined it to be. There was hardly time to do anything that people claimed was good about coming to university. The parties, the epic heartbreaks, and romances, they were just nowhere to be seen. In fact, there was nothing particularly extravagant about your experience thus far. You went to class, studied, and went to your internship. Your internship was probably the most exciting thing about your life at the moment, you were lucky to be accepted into the Stark Industries student internship, the company paid college tuition and only required around twenty hours of lab work a week, you couldn’t complain. Of course, the exciting part of the whole ordeal was the name attached to it, “Stark,” not that you had ever met him, but it was nice to have a unique feature like that in such an impressive student body.

So here you were on the first day of your third year of university. You lived off-campus, about a five-minute walk from the Stark Tower, but a twenty-minute subway ride to your campus. However, having an 882 square foot space to yourself was really nothing you could truly complain about despite the distance. The studio apartment being yet another benefit reaped from Stark Industries. Thank you Tony Stark, the unseen benevolent God in your life.

Typically you would start your mornings off quietly and in no rush, a shower, a cup of coffee, maybe some studying before heading off to your campus, but your phone had other plans for you today. Instead of your alarm going off like it was supposed to, you were woken up by the sound of a particularly loud car horn, and oh how grateful you were for that. As soon as you were jolted awake you shifted to grab your phone and turned it over to see an alarming 8:40am glaring back at you.

Holy shit. You were late.

You scrambled out of bed nearly face planting several times in your hurry to get dressed and only barely ran out the door with everything you needed at 8:47am.

By the time you managed to get to the subway and clamor onto the right train it was already 8:55am. Out of breath and panicking, you considered your options. You could explain after class, you could shoot an email, there were a plethora of things you could do but none of them seemed to justify being late as a third-year to a level 500 class. You had googled all of your professors while registering for classes as was common practice. You couldn’t find a RateMyProfessor on Professor...Parker? You were pretty sure it was Professor Parker, but you do remember seeing on the STEM department page that he was currently a Ph.D. student, so you could only hope that as a fellow student he would be at least a little understanding towards your lateness.

You stood outside of the lecture hall huffing and trying to catch your breath at 9:32am, psyching yourself up, you pushed open the door to the class and attempted to go unnoticed. The class was in a lecture hall despite being only composed of around thirty students, so if you were lucky maybe nobody would even see-

“Ms.(y/l/n), I presume?.” Shit.

“Professor Parker?” Shit.

“You are aware that class starts at 9am, and not 9:30am, would this be correct Ms.(y/l/n)?”

“Yes, Professor, it’s just that I had an emergency.” The lying route. Not exactly the highlight of your academic career.

“I regret to inform you that I only take valid excuses Ms.(y/l/n), please take a seat, and next time, don’t bother disrupting class halfway through the lesson.” Fuck. You mustered a quiet “ok,” and a small nod before escorting yourself to the back of the room, thirty-something eyes following you until you sat down.

You couldn’t focus for the rest of the class, it was just too embarrassing, time moved forward but you couldn’t help but be stuck on what had just happened. For the first ten minutes after sitting down you felt like dropping out of the whole class out of sheer fucking humiliation. This was of course before you reminded yourself that this class was a requirement to graduate in your field of study. You quietly bargained with yourself before sighing quietly and settling on the conclusion that Professor Parker was just a dick. A dick who certainly didn’t deserve the satisfaction of you switching out of his class. If he wanted to be like that, you decided, you would simply return the favor.

“I know, Ms.(y/ln), why don’t you tell us DeBroglie’s equation?”

“With pleasure, Professor Parker.” Yeah, you’d return the favor alright.

“Ms.(y/l/n), you stay.” Fuck that. You looked the other way and feigned ignorance as you kept making your way towards the door. About to leave, the door shut on your face.

“What the fuck!” You jumped before turning around and you felt your face heat up.

“Ms.(y/l/n), please refrain from using profanities in my classroom.”

“I’m sorry Professor Parker. I was just startled.”

“Mhm,” he took his glasses off and laid them on his desk, “Just don’t do it in the future Ms.(y/l/n).”

“Of course. My name is (y/n), by the way, Professor Parker, you can just call me that, actually, I prefer that people refer to me by (y/n).”

“Rest assured, I’m aware of your name, Ms.(y/l/n). My name is Peter, but you can continue to call me Professor Parker.” You could have sworn that you saw a ghost of a smirk on his lips. He knew what he was fucking doing, asshole. You held back from rolling your eyes into the back of your head.

“Of course, Professor Parker.”

“As you know, Ms.(y/l/n), I did request that you stay after class.”

“Oh? I sincerely apologize Professor Parker, I really didn’t hear you.”

“I’m sure, Ms.(y/l/n).” Fucking. Dick.

“Well, what exactly did you want Professor Parker? I do have another class soon.” Professor Parker narrowed his eyes at you in obvious distaste before reaching behind himself into a bin underneath his desk and pulling out a stack of papers,

“These are the handouts you missed from the beginning of the class. Textbook requirements, syllabus...Crucial information to have if you care to succeed in my class Ms.(y/l/n).” So coldly, so maliciously, Professor Parker placed the stack into your arms.

“I take my work very seriously, Ms.(y/l/n), I do my part as your professor so I only have the simple request that my students do the same.” You nodded feeling your face heat up again.

“Of course, Professor Parker, it won’t happen again,” you said with a tightlipped smile.

“Mhm,” Professor Parker turned around and began shuffling around some paper and without giving you a second glance said, “You are dismissed.” You nodded and hurriedly made your way out of his classroom. Of course, you had lied. You didn’t have another class until late in the afternoon. So you called your coworker instead,

“Hey, Harvey.”

“(y/n).”

“Wow, okay, don’t get too excited.”

“Sorry, just woke up.”

“Tsk, the early bird gets the worm, Harvey.”

“I don’t want a worm.”

“Fuck you. I’m headed to the lab, can I expect you?”

“Yeah, yeah.” You had been working with Harvey for around four years now, he was quite the impressive specimen, having attended MIT and graduating Summa Cum Laude at age 20 was no easy feat, he was closer to Tony Stark than you would ever get, he was quite personable, and you couldn’t deny that he was quite good looking. You’d never tell him that though, he didn’t need another ego boost. Besides, you had some connections of your own.

“Hey, (y/n).”

“Banner!”

“Can we expect Harvey today?”

“Honestly, not sure.” You both knowingly smiled at each other before you made your way over to what he was working on,

“Do you ever get bored here?”

“With you and the other idiot always running around? How could I?” You laughed,

“No, seriously, like wouldn’t you rather be doing nerd shit with Tony or something? Isn’t it a little tiresome babysitting us?”

“Tiring? Maybe sometimes, but not nearly as tiring as doing ‘nerd shit’ with Tony. He’s exhausting,” Bruce smiled at his own joke, “I don’t mind playing babysitter at all kid.” He fiddled with the handle of a mug that read, “Don’t be so Na Cl,” which you had gotten him a year back as a joke, but he still used it.

You really loved Bruce for all he was. Since losing your family back in 2012 during the battle in NYC, you didn’t really have any familial figures. But since landing this internship you found yourself with a parental figure again, and you would never be able to put into words how much it meant to you, so you didn’t. Besides, you didn’t want him to feel pressured about it, especially after everything he had been through himself. Frying half your body and losing the love of your life in such a short span of time was really nothing less than horrifying. Yet, here he was, smiling, laughing...You loved him for it.

“First day of junior year? How was that?”

“Shit.”

“Huh?” Bruce stopped tinkering with the device in his hands and looked over at you, “I’ve never heard of a course being too hard for (y/n) (y/l/n), what is it? Aerospace? Quantum?”

“No, just one giant dick.”

“Pardon-”

“My professor, he’s a fucking asshole.”

“Ah, I see. If he’s really harassing you (y/n), I don’t mean to overstep, I really think we should alert administration, what’s his name?” Bruce took a sip of his coffee.

“Professor Parker,” Bruce choked on his coffee, “Oh my God, Bruce, are you okay?”

“Yeah-” he said, still coughing, “Just a little too strong.”

“Okay, are you sure?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Bruce caught his breath, “What did he do kid?”

“He’s just a dick that’s all.”

“You sure you don’t want me to do something about it?”

“Yeah, it’s fine, I don’t know what you could do anyways. Thank you though.”

“Actually, you’d be surprised.”

Sitting at your desk stressing over school work at 3am, it was nothing out of the ordinary for you. Everything appeared ordinary. The ordinary cup of tea, the familiar glow of your computer, and a morning chill creeping through your window. It was all so breathtakingly normal until there was a rap on your window. You took an earbud out of your ear, certain you were just hearing things, you looked to your window. Holy shit.

You opened your window wide so that he could crawl in.

“(y/n)?”

“Mr.Spiderman.” Still too in shock to fully process the situation you started to take in the scene in front of you,

“Please, it’s just Spiderman.”

“Oh-Oh my God, what happened?” Head to toe the suit seemed to have blood seeping through, tears in the body of the suit revealed gashes and a bullet wound.

“Bad guys. I know this guy-said he knew a medical student close by, you are (y/n)? Right?”

“Y-Yeah, but I’m really just a student, I’m not really a prof-”

“This guy, he said you might as well be.”

“I don’t know Mr.Spiderman, really, maybe I could take you to the hospital though.”

“-Spiderman, it’s just Spiderman, listen, (y/n), you know I can’t go to a hospital, it would ruin this whole secret identity thing I got going on here, and this guy, he’s probably the smartest guy I know, so if he says you can handle it, you can.” You swallowed and nodded,

“Yeah-” you wring your hands together, “Yeah-Sorry, let me go get my first aid kit.”

#tom holland x reader #peter parker #peter parker x reader #tom holland #spiderman #spiderman x reader #marvel #marvel x reader #bruce banner #tony stark #iron man #idk #sorry #ill prolly rewrite this seven times

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makeste · 3 years

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my long boring post about chapter 293 and Kacchan’s hero name

lmao I think that’s all of them. anyways, so I said I was gonna do a post on this, and so here goes.

first off, I just want to say that people are allowed to not like the name! it’s a completely subjective thing, there’s no right or wrong “it’s good” or “it’s bad.” or rather, there is a right or wrong, and it’s whichever one you think it is. if you think it’s good, you’re right. if you think it’s bad, you’re also right. it’s an opinion, it doesn’t need to be backed up by peer review lol.

that said, here is my own completely subjective opinion: I think “Dynamight” (though please not with the capital “m”, I beg you lol) is a terrific name for him honestly. it’s clever wordplay, it’s a subtle callback/tribute to his favorite hero who is also his inspiration for becoming a hero, and it’s a perfect fit for his chosen aesthetic. it’s honestly great.

and what makes it even better is that at the same time, it is also stupid as fuck lmao. this is a name that encapsulates the duality of man. it’s the perfect metaphor for this boy who think he’s the hottest shit god ever invented, and has no idea that the number of people who take him seriously after interacting with him for more than ten seconds is actually in the single digits. this hero name is the equivalent of an excited puppy ferociously bounding towards a squirrel only to trip over its own feet and fall flat on its face. it thinks it is scary as fuck, and has no idea that 30,000 people on TikTok think it’s the most adorable thing they’ve ever seen. I unabashedly love it, and will also ceaselessly roast the everloving shit out of it without the slightest remorse, just like I roast the beloved boy attached to it. that’s just how it is lol.

so that’s how I feel about the name! however, this next part I need to emphasize: my opinion of the name, and my opinion of whether or not I actually think this will be his name, are two different things. I like the name Dynamight. I really do. and I also think there is next to no chance that this will actually be his hero name.

here’s the thing. this would have been a perfect name for him if it had been his chosen name back in chapter 45 when everyone else picked their aliases. it would have fit in seamlessly with the rest of his class. Red Riot, Chargebolt, Earphone Jack, Sugarman, Uravity; those are all names that stick in your mind and look great on official merch. those are names that sell action figures, but they also do a great job of representing the individuals behind the names. they have personality. and so does “Dynamight”, for sure.

but the thing is, for whatever reason, Horikoshi didn’t have him pick this name back in chapter 45. he went with a running gag instead. “King Explosion Murder”, “Lord Explosion Murder”, and so forth. and in the end, we never got a hero name at all. he could have had him pick Dynamight after we’d had our laughs. hell, he could have used it as an early easter egg hinting at Kacchan’s admiration for All Might, which wouldn’t be officially revealed until the final exam arc about twenty chapters later. “Dynamight” in Japanese is written out in katakana -- ダイナマイト (“dainamaito”). this is the word that’s used in Japan for actual dynamite. there is no inherent indicator that it’s a pun; it just so happens that the “mite” in dynamite is spelled out phonetically in Japanese the exact same way that “might” is. so the pun isn’t obvious unless you know to look for it. Horikoshi could have left us all thinking that “Dynamite” was his name until chapter 62 or thereabouts when he revealed that Katsuki looked up to All Might, at which point Horikoshi could finally reveal the official English spelling and it would be like a second name reveal. which would have been pretty sweet, actually.

but my point being, for some reason he instead chose not to do this. instead he chose to drag it all out for 250 chapters, content to let us all languish. this man had not a shred of mercy for the thousands of Bakugou fans who were all “please, sir, the fic,” before eventually giving up and adopting Ground Zero as the official-unofficial name until we either got a real reveal or died of old age. he dragged it out, and kept it as a gag, and eventually it was just like, fine, whatever.

and then this happened.

and it changed everything.

because you see, all of a sudden “Bakugou’s Hero Name” wasn’t just a running joke gag plot anymore. in the span of three sentences, Horikoshi changed the entire meaning of it. “your hero name represents your desires. the embodiment of how you wish to be. your ideal self.”

just like that, the whole mystery of “what will Bakugou’s hero name be” goes from being a funny little ongoing thing to an existential question, with the implication being that the choice he finally makes, whatever it may be, will in essence reveal the very core of his character. “your ideal self.” in other words this will really be almost the pinnacle of his entire character arc. his hero name, when he finally picks it, will show us just how far he’s come. it will show us his answer to “what kind of person do you want to be.”

that is an insane amount of meaning to suddenly dump onto something that up until this point had just been a funny little running gag. “lol Bakugou loves murder and death.” “lol at this rate Bakugou will graduate while still not having an actual hero name.” from that, to suddenly out of the blue, “Bakugou’s hero name will show us who he is as a person.” like, holy shit though. and mind you, this isn’t something that’s been done for any other character. this is very Bakugou-specific. all this build-up and significance has been ascribed to his hero name specifically. at this point his name is basically its own fucking plot. it’s literally its own individual little arc. all of that build-up. all of that meaning and importance given to it.

and then Horikoshi goes and gives us this.

so. like... okay, I guess??

like, just some quick things of note here though:

he is still doing the whole “explosive destruction murder” thing on top of the “Dynamight” part. indicating that there has not been the slightest bit of thoughtful consideration actually given on his part. literally the one thing that everyone and their mom was trying to explain to him not to do, and all of it went in one ear and out the other. which is fine!! he is adorable here and I want to ruffle his hair, honestly. but it’s clear to me that he still hasn’t grasped what Jeanist was trying to explain to him before, if this is really his answer to “what would you consider to be your ideal self” lol.

the name is INSTANTLY panned by every single person in the surrounding vicinity, villains included. hell, Mirio might as well have stabbed him all over again. obviously this is intentionally being used as a lighthearted moment to briefly give the audience a breather before we wade back into the Todoroki drama; but at the same time it indicates that this name isn’t exactly going to be taken seriously by anyone who hears it in-universe. they are literally wincing upon hearing it skjlklhkgf.

lastly, none of the people closest to him -- Deku, All Might, Kirishima, or Shouto -- are even there to hear it. all of that build-up, all of that “Kacchan’s hero name will show us how far he’s come in his character development”, and then when it finally happens, the people who have had the most impact aren’t even there to partake in the moment. Shouto and Deku are busy dealing with an entirely separate plot and trying very hard not to be set on fire while Kacchan is out here providing comic relief.

because that’s really what this is, though. this is a joke. like, I don’t mean that in a pejorative sense; I mean that it is literally a joke. and so what you’re telling me is, if this really is his hero name, we waited 250 chapters and Horikoshi built up an entire character arc around it, only to have the end result be a joke panel that in the end was arguably not even the biggest thing that happened in the chapter.

like, idk, maybe there’ll be a flashback about it later after all’s said and done which will imbue it with more meaning as some have suggested. maybe Horikoshi will explain how it’s a childhood throwback name that Deku once picked for him, like that theory that’s been making the rounds. I’m not saying it won’t be possible to build on this after the fact. but it will be after the fact, all the same. as far as the initial reveal goes... this is it. the epitome of anticlimactic. a brief joke reveal mid-fight where everyone immediately goes “are you fucking serious” and he’s all “I WAS FUCKING SERIOUS” and falls down out of comedy lmao.

and so, to wrap this post up finally, basically the way I see it is that there are two possibilities here. either (1) I have been way overthinking this from day one and it was never really that deep and Horikoshi thought this would be an appropriate and funny conclusion to a plotline which in his mind was always meant to be mostly lighthearted, with the Jeanist stuff mostly just thrown in there to push Bakugou into picking an at least halfway-decent name in spite of himself.

or, (2) this isn’t going to be his final hero name either. this is instead the last hurrah of the “Lord Explosion Murder” part of that plotline, and after he’s laughed out of the room yet again he will mope and cross out this one as well, and Horikoshi will sit on it for another 500 chapters until he finally reveals it at the very fucking end of the series. like at this point I wouldn’t put it past him to wait until the very last page. I s2g, this man. but the flipside of it is that when that moment finally does happen, I fully believe it will be a moment that actually feels earned. it will feel right. it will feel like the moment we spent all that time waiting for. or at least that’s what I hope.

so anyway, those are my thoughts on it! tl;dr, while I like Dynamight as a hero name in and of itself, I don’t think it’s going to be endgame, mostly because nothing about that reveal moment actually felt right to me. and of course, it’s very possible that I’m completely wrong about this; it wouldn’t be the first time (Kacchan’s quirk says hello). but on the other hand fandom isn’t totally batting a thousand either (Ground Zero says what up), so hey. we’ll see!

#bakugou katsuki #dynamight #bnha 293 #bnha meta #bakugou meta #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha #asks #anon asks

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givemeweasley · 3 years

Text

First Things First pt. 3

Fred Weasley x Reader

Warnings: angst to fluff no worries only happy endings here (this is also the last part)

Word Count: 5.9k

A/N: Thank you so much for reading this! I put a lot of research into it even for smaller details about Ilvermorny or even the Gryffindor password to make sure it was all correct. Also for the last section I listened to Heart by Sleeping At Last (highly recommend)! Please let me know what you thought and I’m also taking requests :)

First Things First pt. 1, First Things First pt. 2

-----

You remembered the first time you made up-

You were miserable. There was no easy way to put it. In the week leading up to the ball you’d been eating your meals in the kitchens, studying for next semester in the kitchens, really just spending every free second in the kitchens since classes had finished. And sitting alone. Even herbology. You’d made a point to quietly sit on the other side of the classroom and not look at him even in the slightest.

The week leading up to the ball felt like a year. It only seemed longer when you overheard the house elves talking about who was going with who.

“I heard Mr.Potter is going with that Ms.Patil.” One of them whispered.

“Parvati or Padma?”

“Parvati.”

The whispering continued until one name caught your attention. You didn’t dare glance up, you could feel the house elves lower their voices and glance at you.

“The eldest Weasley twin is going with,” their voices lowered even more. You leaned forward a fraction, tilting your head in their direction. “Angelina Johnson.”

“They’ll be a right handsome couple.”

At that comment you heard a few house elves immediately fuss and shush the house elf who said it, but it was too late. You’d already heard. They were right. For what seemed like the millionth time in that week, your eyes welled up with tears.

Godric. You were so tired of crying. So tired of feeling guilty and angry at the same time. So tired of missing your friends.

You hated England. You hated Hogwarts. You hated these stupid kitchens and these stupid dungeons. You hated Yule balls especially. How simple everything would’ve been if the ball hadn't existed.

Maybe you could’ve spent your life pretending you never kissed him.

But you knew better. The kiss was never far from the front of your mind. Even if the memory now only brought pain.

Fred was right. You could’ve asked him. Why didn’t you?

You buried your head in your hands uncontrollably sobbing. You called him a coward. The only coward between the two of you, was you. He was better off with Angelina. She was incredible and they had so much in common. You could already see their wedding in your head.

It only made you cry more.

“Look what you did!” You vaguely heard one of the house elves whisper angrily. There was some shuffling around and pots clattering about before you felt the tap of a long finger against your elbow.

“Ms.Y/L/N?”

You looked down to see Jippy. His ears were flopped over, his wide eyes looking up at you kindly with a blue box in his hands. A white bow wrapped around it.

You unfurled yourself from the seat, your limbs achy and in desperate need of a stretch. “What’s this?” You asked taking the box from Jippys hands.

He nervously glanced back at the house elves behind him. They were all smiling broadly looking from the present in your hands to your face. Finally, he seemed to build up enough courage to say what he needed.

“Well, Ms. Y/L/N, we all noticed you’ve spent your entire week in here and-”

“Oh I’m so sorry!” You grimaced. They had probably needed alone time from humans and you’d done nothing but intrude on their continued generosity.

“No! No! That’s not it at all! We just knew that you hadn’t gone out to Hogsmeade to pick out a dress so we wanted to do something for you.” Jippy said, twisting his foot on the floor. But his smile widened as he glanced at the present. “Happy Christmas.”

The tears already in your eyes spilled down your cheeks. You had completely forgotten about purchasing a dress for the ball. Hastily, you wiped the tears from your cheeks before pulling the ribbon gently off the box. You lifted the blue lid.

Inside was the most stunning fabric you’d ever seen. It glittered silver reflecting off every light in the room. You gripped the shoulders of the gown and lifted to see the entirety of it.

Jippy poked his head into your field of vision. “Do you like it?”

As gently as possible, you folded the gown back into the box. You made a point to look at every single house elf in the room. “I love it. Thank you.”

Cheers rang out through the kitchens. For the first time in weeks, you laughed. Heartily. Until, you realized what Jippy said. You whipped your head to him.

“Christmas?”

Jippy froze, furrowing his brow. “Yes ma’am. It’s Christmas.”

Your eyes widened before lifting them to the grand clock on the wall.

7:03

You leapt up out of the chair causing Jippy to startle backwards. You reached your hand out to steady him before him fell. “I’ve gotta go! Adrians coming to get me at 7:45! Thanks again you guys!” You yelled over your shoulder, box in hand as you ran to the portrait.

Shouts of ‘good luck’ and ‘Happy Christmas’ rang out over your shoulder as the portrait shut behind you. Without thinking, you barreled towards the staircase hauling ass to Gryffindor tower. You were on the bottom floor, Gryffindor tower on the seventh. It would take you at least ten minutes to get there. Still, you ran up the stairs no matter how much your legs ached. You’d be damned if the beautiful dress in the box went to waste.

Finally, you halted to a stop in front of the Fat Lady. “Balderdash!” You huffed out, still catching your breath.

“Running from something, dear?” The Fat Lady asked as she swung open.

You didn’t take the time to answer. You shot into the common room and up the stairs trying not to notice several people lounging around already dressed for the ball. You did however slow enough to check the time on the clock over the mantlepiece.

7:16

Shit. Using the banister as leverage, you half pulled half leapt your way up the stairs to the girls dormitory. Not even bothering to head to your dorm, you swept into the nearest empty bathroom. Clothes came off your body faster than they ever had before. You wasted not a moment before hopping in the shower. If life had seemed slow these past weeks, it seemed to be catching up with you in the span of ten minutes.

Jumping out of the shower, you toweled off and threw your hair into the towel swinging it atop your head. You wrapped another towel around your body and grabbed your clothes and the blue box that was sitting safely on the counter.

You ducked into your dorm throwing your old clothes onto your dresser and gently sitting the box on your bed. Angelina and Alicia were nowhere to be seen. It made your heart hurt worse than you anticipated, therefore you tried to ignore it.

You threw on your undergarments and with a drying spell, dried your hair. With a few quick succinct movements and charms your hair was done. You examined your work in the mirror with satisfaction. Your hair fell perfectly around your face, a few well placed spells had made it seem like tiny stars were intertwined within it. You then brushed on some mascara and lipgloss, rubbing your lips together a few times.

Finally, you turned to the blue box still sitting peacefully on your bed. You lifted the cover once more, the dress looking even more beautiful at second glance.

Your fingers gripped the shoulders, pulling the entirety of the dress from the box. It glided along the edges before the bottom of the gown hit the floor. Trying not to stare at it too long, knowing you had limited time, you walked to the mirror and slipped into the shimmering gown.

The only thing about being alone meant you had to perform a summoning charm to pull the zipped from the bottom of the dress and into your hand which rested at the top of the track.

But the dress fit you perfectly. The transparent glittering sleeves continued down to your wrists. The neck dipped softly down your chest, not revealing too much but enough to compliment your skin tone. The waist cinched in just the right spot before softly flaring out. The material moved like water as you twisted. It brushed the floor gently before pooling at your feet. You looked more beautiful than you remembered ever looking.

Shaking your head, you checked the clock behind you.

7:45

Quickly, you pulled on a pair of black heels before taking one last glance at the mirror. As beautiful as you looked, something was missing.

You glanced at your dresser before grabbing it. You pulled it over your head doing your best not to mess up your hair and then tucked the pendant in the bodice of your gown. The fireworks heating up the valley of your chest.

You carefully made your way down the steps of the dorm, focused on the steps before you. It was rare you wore heels and you weren’t quite perfect at walking in them. You gripped the banister tightly praying you wouldn’t fall. So when your heel finally hit the floor of the common room, you let out a breath.

The common room was empty except for a few of the younger Gryffindors who weren’t allowed to go to the ball. You tried to ignore the few gasps and looks you felt as you crossed the room to the portrait.

You pushed it open half expecting the corridor to be empty. That you had accepted Adrian over Fred just to be stood up. It would serve you right.

But Adrian was standing there in his dress robes, leaning against the opposite wall of the portrait.

You stepped towards him, the lights of the hall dancing off your dress and the glitter in your hair. “You know I never asked how you knew where the Gryffindor dorms were.” You spoke up causing him to look up from where he was pulling at a string on his robes.

Adrian jerked to a standing. “You look beautiful.”

You are magnificent. Breathtakingly beautiful.

You blinked and Fred was gone. “Thank you.”

Adrian stepped forward, offering his arm. “Shall we, milady?”

A small laugh left your lips. “We shall.”

The walk to the Great Hall was pleasant. Adrian was a gentleman who asked all about your classes and what you got for Christmas. His arm was also a blessing considering the several flights of stairs you had to descend to get to the Great Hall. But he was slow, making sure to assist you when you needed.

The Great Hall was stunning. Barely recognizable. The walls glittered with ice and sculptures. Lights were floating around that looked like snowflakes. There were tables scattered around with frozen centerpieces. Some were flowers, others were elaborate carvings. There was music quietly playing while students shuffled into the fold. Adrian led you to a table that was typically on the Slytherin side of the Great Hall. He pulled out your chair for you and you graciously sat.

Adrian sat beside you and smiled widely. The room was stunning. Your eyes were bouncing from wall to wall, decoration to decoration, trying to absorb every inch of the beauty. You felt starstruck.

And then Draco Malfoy sat next to you. Followed by Pansy Parkinson. Your shoulders tensed as Draco smiled evilly.

“Well isn’t this a treat?” He said smiling broadly, looking you over. He leaned in close til his lips brushed the shell of your ear. “You look simply ravishing.” He pulled back smirking.

“Leave her alone, Malfoy.” Adrian rolled his eyes after taking a sip of his pumpkin juice. “Not tonight.” It was then that Lucian Bole and his date Patricia Stimpson sat down. It was at that moment you realized you were a Gryffindor sitting at a completely Slytherin table. You tried not to show a sliver of fear. You had a feeling they could sense it like blood in the water.

“So you actually got the American Gryffindor to come with you, Pucey.” Bole leaned back in his chair smirking, throwing an arm around the back of Patricia’s chair.

“I did.” Adrian smiled back at him.

You leaned forward trying to reign in your slowly building irritation. “My name is Y/N.” A tight smile lifted your lips.

Bole shrugged. “I know.”

“I think it’s a rather ugly name if you ask me.” Pansy spoke up. You were surprised it had taken her that long to insert herself in the conversation.

“Good thing nobody-”

“I think Dumbledore’s about to announce dinner!” Adrian spoke up over you. You glared at him, but he was already looking over at Dumbledore.

“He agrees with me, you know.” Pansy whispered just loud enough for you and Draco, who was sitting between you, to hear. You tried not to think about how much you wanted to smother her.

Draco smirked widely looking at your fuming face. You sucked in a breath, relaxing yourself. Your hand subconsciously reached for the pendant at your chest, still hidden by your gown. It calmed you just a fraction before you turned to face Dumbledore. Maybe if you ignored them they would be quiet.

You’d tuned in just in time for Dumbledore to announce dinner and how to get food to your plate. You put in your order and waited only a second before it appeared on the plate.

You desperately tried to eat your food in peace, but all you could hear was the sly snickers of Pansy and Draco paired with the constant Quidditch talk from Bole and Adrian. You had briefly attempted conversation with Patricia, but she gave you a disgusted once over before turning back to her food. If that hadn’t been a clear message about how she felt about a Gryffindor being at a Slytherin table, you weren’t sure what would.

You just picked at your food while watching the lights float around trying not to glance at the flashes of red you saw throughout the hall. You wondered what Angelina was wearing. What Fred was wearing. If they’d coordinated. If he’d held her hand while they descended the stairs. If he caught her when she stumbled. Maybe even kissed her because he couldn’t help it, she just looked so beautiful.

Breathtakingly beautiful.

“What did your plate do to you, Y/L/N?” Draco laughed loudly. You furrowed your eyebrows before seeing the knife in your hand completely stuck through the plate. You let go of the knife, pushing the broken plate and knife away from you. You felt a blush rise up to your cheeks unwillingly.

You pushed your chair back, turning to Adrian.

“I’m going to go use the bathroom. I’ll be back.” Adrian vaguely nodded continuing his conversation with Bole about the potential of increasing the weight of bludgers. You rolled your eyes as you stood and walked away.

“Awh, poor American mudblood probably peed herself too.” Pansy snickered from behind you.

Frustration built in your chest. This night, one that so long ago you were dreaming about, was turning out to be the most miserable you’d spent at Hogwarts yet.

You slipped out the doors of the Great Hall making your way to the furthest bathroom on the first floor hoping the walk would give you a minute to breathe. You shoved the bathroom door open angrily hearing it fall shut behind you.

Your hands gripped the edges of the sink as you stared into the mirror. Your mascara still looked pristine. Your lipgloss was still perfect. Your hair still spun up with the glitter still sparkling. You looked great.

So why did you feel so awful?

Enough with the pity party. Go out there and enjoy the dance, if only to show off the dress the house elves made you.

You shook your head and once again pressed your hand to the pendant still situated warmly against your chest.

Your heart ached for him.

Pushing the bathroom door open, you took a deep breath. You didn’t, however, expect someone to be waiting for the bathroom.

“Oh I’m so-”

Fred.

He was leaning against the wall looking down at his shoes, until you spoke up. He was wearing his black dress robes with a nice white button down and a black tie tucked underneath a burnt orange vest. His eyes lifted as he stood up straight. His brown eyes seemed to stare straight into your soul.

You began to take a step towards him when you realized you hadn’t spoken since your fight. Your arms seemed to wrap themselves around you of their own accord. Your eyes fell away from his, unable to keep his strong gaze. You simply stepped out of the way of the door to the single stall bathroom.

“It’s-um let me get out of your way.” You mumbled beginning to pass him.

But the softest touch brushed your forearm. “Wait.” The word was whispered. “Please wait.”

You stopped but didn’t dare turn around. You didn’t have the courage too.

I’m the coward. You so desperately wanted to say.

“Y/N, I’m sorry.” The fingers still barely touching you began to curl around your wrist. Soft as a feather he pulled your wrist forcing you to turn to face him. You kept your eyes on the ground. The cobblestone underneath your feet had never been more interesting. “Please look at me.” His voice sounded desperate. But when you still didn’t comply his finger lifted to tilt your chin.

Finally your eyes met his. Tears in yours and pain in his.

“I’m sor-”

But your voice had finally found you. “You have nothing to be sorry for, Fred.” Your chest felt a fraction lighter at the release of the words that had been weighing on you for weeks. “You were right. I got mad at you for not doing something that I wasn’t even willing to do. That’s not fair.” Your voice choked. “You’re not the coward, I am.”

Fred's hand slid up to cup your cheek, and you couldn’t help but to lean into it. “We’re both cowards then.” His thumb brushed away a runaway tear. “I should’ve asked you. I should’ve brought up the kiss before Adrian asked you first. But I was scared that what happened in the Trophy Room was a result of you being vulnerable and needing comfort. That I had taken advantage of your hurting. I was scared to face the rejection that would’ve come if I asked you and you admitted that’s all it was.”

“Fred, do you want to know what the boggart said before you started to hear it?”

Fred furrowed his brows. “What does that have-”

“It told me that you- that it- would never love me. That I wasn’t worthy of its affection.”

which was also the first time you said it.

“Fred, I’m so in love with you.” Your hands lifted to rest on his chest, gripping his shirt. “I have loved you since the day I was sitting at the breakfast table reading my letters from my friends and you suggested buying them gifts at Hogsmeade. I love every dumb joke you tell me in the middle of class when I’m trying to take notes.” One of your hands made your way to brush a bit of hair out of his face. “I love every smile you give me. I love every time you throw fruit at me at breakfast just to test my reflexes. I love the way you sing and dance when you’re drunk after a winning Quidditch match. I love you, Fred Weasley. All of you.”

Your heart was pounding. You had just spilled your soul out to him and more than anything you needed him to say something.

But he didn’t. Instead his fingers left your face and drifted down your neck. The trail of his touch sent shivers running through your body. Finally his touch rested on your collarbone.

“Fred?” You whispered desperately searching his eyes. But his gaze dropped down to your neck. Before you could say anything else, his fingers dipped underneath the chain resting on your neck. With a gentle tug, the necklace was slowly lifted from underneath your dress. His fingers slid down the chain until they clutched the pendant.

Fred softly cleared his throat.

“I saw this through the window of Gladrags Wizardwear. It was resting on the neck of a mannequin. I ran inside and asked to know how much it was despite probably being absurdly expensive and knowing me and George were saving for the shop. The clerk that day leaned down on the counter and asked me to go grab it. When I got back with it he asked me what I saw inside the pendant. I was confused but I told him I saw a Wampus running around within it.” Fred’s hand reached up tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “He asked me who it was for and why I wanted it. So I told him it would be for you because your house at Ilvermorny was Wampus- and he cut me off. Said I could have it free of charge under one condition.”

“What was it?” You asked breathlessly.

“He told me to ask you what you saw. He said the necklace was like Amortentia but instead of smell it showed you something that reminds you of the person you love. Y/N, I love you. I think I loved you from the moment you doubted whether I was good at Quidditch. I can’t get you out of my head. Seeing you cry that night in the Trophy Room because of words you thought I was saying to you broke a piece of me. These last few weeks have been hell without you. I’m so mad for you, ‘Merica, that I can’t stand it.”

Then he kissed you.

It was just as amazing, if not better, than the last one.

Your lips pressed together as if they were never meant to be apart. You reached up, gripping the back of his neck pulling him closer. Fred’s arms wound their way around your waist tightening until your bodies were flush together. Every corner of your body was in tune with his. Every movement of your lips together felt like breathing again.

So much so that you almost forgot you had to. You pulled back sucking in the air. Both of you panting. You licked your lips tasting him. That thought alone almost sent your lips back onto his. He seemed to have the same thought as his mouth descended. But you stuck your hand between you, pressing against his mouth.

“Wait. I need to tell-” You panted. “I need to tell you what I see.” Your hand left his mouth as you reached between the two of you to grab the pendant. You lifted it to your eyes watching as the fireworks exploded before your eyes in the same shade of red as Fred's hair. You looked back up at him, a small smile on your face.

“I see fireworks, Fred.”

-----

Lastly, you remembered the first and last time you said I do.

You thought the NEWTs were stressful, they had nothing on the feeling rolling through your gut that day. You paced the floor, already dressed in a stunning white gown that accentuated every part of your body. Yet, so many things could go wrong in the span of an hour. So what your hair was done? So what your makeup was complete? Who cared that you were already at the venue and you had personally seen to that everything looked perfect? What if the officiant didn’t make it? What if you fell while walking down the aisle? What if the groom didn’t show up-

“Y/N!” Ginny yelled, halting you in your tracks. “If you pace anymore you’re going to wear a hole in the rug.”

You squeezed your fingers before nodding and gently sitting down taking care not to wrinkle your gown.

“I’m just nervous.” You sighed trying hard not to reach up and fiddle with your hair.

“About what?” Angelina laughed, leaning on the doorframe in her bridesmaids gown. “Fred is stupidly mad for you. Hell would freeze before he would let anything go wrong. Besides what matters most is at the end of that aisle. Not me, Ginny, Iris, Louisa, Hermione, or any of us really.”

Iris nodded. “She’s right you know.”

“I know. I just- I can’t help but feel like this isn’t real. And something is going to take it all away from me any moment.” You weren’t sure if it was the raw break in your voice that rendered the room silent or if it was the reminder of Fred’s near death nearly a year ago.

Ginny stood up abruptly. “Alright everybody out.” She waved them out of the room despite the protests.

You furrowed your brow preparing to ask what she was doing, but she beat you to it.

“I’m going to get Fred.”

“But-”

“I’ll close the door so he can’t see you. And under no circumstances is he to come inside.” She smirked. “I want to see him cry when he sees you walking down the aisle.”

And with that she shut the door behind her. The thought of Fred being so near made you equal parts more nervous and more relaxed. Your hand smoothed out your dress, trying to keep yourself busy in anticipation. You didn’t have to wait long.

A knock sounded on the door. You leapt up trying not to run to the door.

“Y/N?” Fred’s voice filtered through the door. You pressed your hands on the door, wanting nothing more than to open it and throw yourself in his arms. But you agreed with Ginny. You wanted him to first see you when you walked down the aisle on the way to becoming his wife. “Y/N? You in there?”

“Yeah.” You replied.

“Ginny told me you were nervous.” His voice had a slight wobble to it that made you respond immediately.

“It has nothing to do with you!” You hesitated. “That’s a lie.”

“Are you afraid I’ll leave you?”

The words sat on your chest heavily. “Not willingly.” You whispered. The memory of seeing him almost die underneath the weight of an entire wall would be forever seared behind your eyes.

“Can I open the door?” Fred whispered back.

“You can’t come in.”

“I won’t.”

The door pushed inwards and after opening about six inches, a hand stuck through the crack. “Give me your hand, love.”

Tears gathered in your eyes as you placed your left hand in his. You felt his hand tug your upwards. His lips pressed against your knuckles, kissing them gently.

“I’m not going anywhere. Not even death will stop me from marrying you. I’ve been hoping for this day since-” A laugh bubbled out of his mouth. “Since that moment in the Trophy Room.” Fred lowered his voice a fraction and pressed a kiss to your palm. “I’m sorry you had to see that, but I promise that I will do everything in my power to make sure you never have to see anything like that again.”

You blinked away the image of him underneath the rubble. Thanking every force of nature that he was alive and was about to become your husband.

Your fingers reached out and cupped his face rubbing your thumb over his clean shaven cheek. “I love you, Fred.”

“I love you back, Y/N.” He shifted your hand until it rested over his lips and then pressed another kiss onto your palm.

And then he sucked your thumb into his mouth.

“I also can’t wait until tonight when I can peel that dress-”

“Alright!!” Ginny shouted. “Time’s up!”

You jerked your hand back inside hearing Fred groan from the other side of the door. “Five more minutes, Ginny!”

“Are you joking me right now? You’re about to be with her for the rest of your life, you can wait-” she paused, “thirty more minutes.”

“But-”

“Shoo!” Fred’s groan followed him all the way down the hall.

You stepped back from the door right in time for Ginny and the rest of your bridesmaid to come strolling in.

The next twenty minutes passed pretty quickly. Touching up your makeup, checking to see if anything had been missed, and just talking with your best friends. As much fun as you were having talking with your friends, you’d be lying if you said you weren’t vibrating with excitement when Ginny checked her watch and stood smiling broadly.

“It’s time!”

“Yes!” Louisa shouted, pumping her fist into the air. Ginny, Louisa, Hermione and Angelina all walked out of the room grabbing their bouquets. Iris handed you yours before walking with you out of the room.

“How you feel, kid?” Iris whispered. You looked at your best friend. A genuine smile on the lips of someone who saved smiling for when the occasion was truly deserving.

“Happy.” You squeezed her arm gently. “So incredibly happy.”

“Well then let’s get you married.” Iris leaned over pressing a kiss onto your cheek, before handing you to your father. Hermione had been paired with Ron, Louisa with Lee, Ginny with Harry, Angelina with Danny, and finally Iris with George with your flower girl being Bill and Fleurs baby girl who was being carried by her mother.

When the doors opened, one by one you watched your friends disappear through them. Your heart felt as if it was about to jump out of your chest and run down the aisle without you. But your fathers hand on your arm settled you just a bit.

“You ready?” He already had tears in his eyes. You nodded before wrapping your arms around his neck tightly. “Fred’s a good man. I wouldn’t let you go for anyone less.”

“I love you, Dad.”

“I love you, too.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead.

And then the music started. He held his arm out and you wound your own around it as you stepped to the doorway.

And saw Fred standing at the end of the aisle.

A smile lit up your face. Your father led you forward, but you ached to ditch the slow pace and sprint to the man who waited for you at the end. With each step, a memory of the two of you flashed before your eyes. Every kiss, every laugh, every touch, every smile, every tear, every moment.

You knew you should’ve at least acknowledged the other people who were standing in the room, but you knew it would cause you physical pain to pull your eyes from the most beautiful man you’d ever seen in your life. A man who was crying wearing his simple black tux. He was still smiling but the tears were slipping down his face softly and onto the floor.

Finally, you and your father reached the end of the aisle. You barely noticed your father giving him your hand or Iris taking your bouquet from your hands, all you felt was Fred. You reached up wiping the tears from his eyes, like he had done for you so many times.

“We are gathered here today…” But the officiant's voice drowned out as you stared at Fred. Your eyes flickered down to his lips as he mouthed a sentence. You are breathtakingly beautiful.

You mouthed back, not caring if anyone saw. So are you.

“I believe you two have prepared your own vows?” You and Fred both nodded. One of Fred's hands left yours as they reached into his pocket to pull out a sheet of paper. He unfolded it one handed before glancing back up at you. Then George tapped him on the shoulder handing him something else. Fred smiled, you could tell he had forgotten.

“Y/N Y/L/N, I wasn’t even sure where to begin these vows. There is so much I want to give you, so much I want to do with you. Ever since I saw you all those years ago, I knew I wanted you to be a part of my life forever.” He took a deep breath, glancing down at you. “You are my entire world. Being next to you makes me breathless. I am so madly in love with you.” His hand tightened around yours. “I want to be with you when you’re happy, when you’re hurting, when you’re angry, when you’re excited, when you’re perfectly healthy, and when you’re sick. I want to be with you when you accomplish the big things and when you fail. I want to be with you when you love me and even when you hate me. I want to be with you even if some enchantment turns half of you into a giant squid.” A small giggle slipped past your lips thinking back to one of Fred’s failed products taste tests. “I want to have children with you and make a family. I want to grow old with you. I just want to be with you in whatever way you’ll take me, love. I can promise that much.”

The tears in your eyes were spilling in waves now. Fred reached up wiping a few of them away before slipping the wedding band on your finger.

For the first time since you had seen him, you turned away to face Iris who was standing behind you. Her hand was already outstretched holding the sheet of paper holding your vows and his ring. You mouthed thank you before turning back to your fiancé. The paper had already been unfolded, so you began to read.

“You are-” you glanced back up at the man who was about to become your husband. You dropped the paper and grabbed the hand you were forced to drop in order to hold your written vows. You stepped a fraction of an inch closer to him. “You are magnificent.” Fred’s smile wobbled at that. “You are all that I could have ever dreamed up. You are handsome, kind, brilliant, loyal, loving, gentle, and best of all hilarious. Whenever I’m around you every single one of my worries just melts away. You are my solid ground, my anchor. I’ve forgotten what it’s like to live without you-” Your voice broke off, but Fred’s fingers massaged your own steadying you. “I never want to remember. Fred Weasley, if you’ll have me, I will spend my last breath making sure you’re happy. You are the man I love and also my best friend. And I love you more than I have words to express.” And then you slid the ring on his finger, your hands shaking the entire time.

“I now declare you bonded for life!” The officiant said. “You may kiss the bride!”

Fred’s arms wound around you like they had done a thousand times before, while yours stretched up around his neck pulling him down to you. Your lips collided somewhere in the center, molding themselves to each other. You vaguely heard shouts and cheers ring out. It was then that you realized you were kissing your husband. You were married. To Fred Weasley.

Fred pulled back just enough to speak. “Mrs. Weasley.”

You giggled. “Mr. Weasley.”

And then his mouth was back on yours again as you laughed against his lips.

-----

“The end.” You whispered, running your hands through his hair. You began to stand when a tiny hand grabbed your finger.

“What happens after the end?” The tired voice of your child called. You leaned down and pressed a kiss to his small forehead. You glanced up at Fred who was leaning against the doorframe, silhouetted by the light from the hall. It was him who answered your son, but his eyes were on you.

“They lived happily ever after.”

Taglist: @huffledor-able541 @asuperconfusedgirl @daddystevee

let me know if you want to be added to my taglist!

#Fred Weasley x reader #Fred Weasley #Fred Weasley fic #Fred Weasley imagine #George weasley #harry potter #Harry Potter fic #hogwarts #ilvermorny #fw #x reader

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stopeatingwhales · 4 years

Text

about a girl x kurt cobain

hi guys omg- it’s been too long since i’ve last posted something, and my nirvana obsession has risen once again so what a thought into writing something dedicated to the one and only kurt himself <3 thank you ever so much to the person who requested this, i managed to write something i think i’m somewhat proud of aha

Pairing: pre-bleach era kurt x reader

Warnings: nothing!

Word count: 2.165

Requested by anon <3

༉‧₊˚✧

Waiting for him to appear on stage for the first time was like a moment snatched out of a drunken stupor: so surreal I had to continuously pinch myself every few minutes for reassurance that this was really happening. With a mind cluttered in thought, it became hard to sit still for as little as ten seconds without being accompanied by an itch to either scratch my scalp in nervousness, or chew on my already bitten nails - attempting to sand off their roughened look from my previous antics. The most I had drunk that night was a couple sips of my gingerish coloured beer - with the room buzzing in anticipation and curiosity for who was headlining the bar tonight, it caused everything that even shifted slightly in its position to irritate me in all ways plausible. Unsurprisingly, I couldn’t manage to let anything settle in my stomach without having a sudden rush of nausea bubble up in my throat; it was Kurt’s first performance tonight with his new, reformed band, and being told that he was quite nervous triggered an anxiety in my veins stronger than the pain of the first rush of heroin dousing my body after months of not being able to get hold of it - allowing all my stress, agony and dread to escape my body at an expeditious rate as my body adorned the poison I was granting into my limbs. It was inevitable: Kurt was bound to be nervous before his first performance with new material to a bunch of strangers that had never seen the wonders of his model-face before, and although he had performed many times, a grasp of worry still caught into his hair as he tried to pass the time, like a knot you seemingly are unable to rid of, leaving you with no other choice but to resort to grabbing a pair of kitchen scissors and chopping that bunch of hair off. Which he had done many times.

Whilst time speedily went on, I found myself calming down by a small amount, consoling myself with different types of remedies in solution: downing my drink, ordering another (this time a gin & tonic to spice things up) and repeating the same, before slamming my now empty glass to the table and standing up to get a clearer view of the stage, knowing they were going to come on soon. All that wondered in my mind was Kurt, quickly reminding myself over all the time we had spent together - the times when we had first become friends. I had been introduced to him early last year when Krist had asked me if I wanted to see his new band he was bassing for - and immediately was I enthralled, knowing that once I had laid my eyes on him, I would never be able to detach them from him: a poor man, masked in aristocracy in ways not physical as it may seem. He captivated me. His presence carried such warmth it was able to counter against the sun; your cheeks immediately burning as he locked eyes with you. You instantly wanted to wrap your arms around him, and when talking, you were instantly drawn to his short yet meaningful phrases, laced in passion stronger than an avocado seed. As my eyes were locked firmly together with his, I was able to notice something so pure and wondrous I had been unsuccessful in finding in anyone else: care. A simple emotion, somehow one of the hardest to master. Regardless of what the subject matter might be, he always carried a certain interest to it - constantly having something to say. Even if you found him sitting excluded from everyone else, you could notice that there was something either battling his mind, or inspiring him for something - new music, lyrics perhaps. It’s enticing, it's human. He’s human.

Suddenly, a distorted strum of a guitar abruptly blared through one of the many amplifiers dotted around the small stage at the end of the room. The crowded space was now silenced by the hasty noise, my (slightly intoxicated, yet conscious) head now instantly turning to see what had happened - although I was for certain it was the time I had been most excited for. Little whispers and hushes were the only things you were able to hear for the span of a few seconds as the amp's sound had silenced itself, a small buzz affiliating throughout the room, a couple of heads turning back and forth to see the number of people collectively awaiting to listen to the music of the unknown band performing tonight. My eyes stayed glued to the stage as I pictured his character, standing there in the middle, Krist and Chad capturing the rest of the space, adorned by their instruments - playing along to Kurt’s beautiful melodies. Gazing at his figure, beautifully formed with such masculinity, decorated with concerning parts of emeation, slowly embarking its way through to the middle of the stage - guitar gripped firmly in arm - birthed dozens of baby butterflies inside my stomach, tickling my insides in all sorts of ways. My nervousness resurrected itself once again, as I had come to a realisation that I wasn’t imagining anything at all.

Silence.

No introduction, nothing. From his immediate grace to the stage, I could tell he was nervous; the bright light emitting onto his face allowed me to see his features much more prominently - allowing you to just about to see the small stubble that was forming on his face from his forgetfulness to shave in the morning. However, I wasn’t able to admire his face for long, only for a few seconds before he fixed his gaze to his electric guitar, placing his fingers on specific chords, then turning to stare at his bandmates. A couple looks were shared between them all, a mere roll of the eyes from Chad, a small smile from Krist towards Kurt - for motivation, as the good friend he was. Kurt on the other hand didn’t change his facial expression, only nodding his head at both the boys before switching back to stare at the instrument adorned by his grip, beginning to bob his head slowly - counting himself in. Even from afar I was able to tell that at that single moment, he didn’t carry a care or a worry for anyone but his guitar, focusing all his energy and thought into this one specific thing: the start of the performance.

1...2...3...4

As the music began, a smile branched onto my cheeks instantly. A song I recognised, my heart warming as I realised what was playing. About a girl, the song we wrote together.

Usually, Kurt would write alone, not wanting anyone else’s input and ideas; all the band played was what Kurt had written, for it was truly only his work on that stage, just a few people helping out to put it together in life form. However, there was a significant time after a band practice weeks ago where I had attended due to me having nothing else to do, and watching the three of them play always made me feel content - holding my heart with hope for the new wave of music they were producing. As they were packing up their stuff at the end of the rehearsal, Kurt had slowly wandered off from tidying up and had come up to me, awkwardly wanting to show me what he had written for a random song: hungry for my opinion even when he never really cared what anyone thought of his music. We ended up co-writing that specific song together, the song sounding the room at this very moment. As I stared at Kurt all that was met with my eyes was his entire concentration to perfect everything that he was playing; every move of the finger producing a different sound as he attempted to hit all the ones significantly partnered with the song. He knew I was watching him, that’s why he played this song first and foremost.

Lifting his head up from the guitar, his mouth instantly pressed itself onto the microphone, revealing his raw, raspy vocals. My eyes were physically unable to detach themselves from the sight I was seeing at this very moment. They had performed multiple times before, yet this time, something felt different. New. Almost as if everything pieced in together, and with just a bit of sanding around the edges - they’d be perfect, unlike any band I had ever seen live. Watching the crowd’s attention simply staying undivided towards the band made me feel a sort of elation the morning of Christmas would give you, the sensational feeling hitting you that its the date that brought everyone together; this time the music was the thing that brought everyone together. My eyes scanned the crowd, noticing some people bobbing their heads, surprised by their immediate tunes that were being emitted from the song, widening my smile - if that was even humanly possible at this moment. Their fresh, uncensored, gruffy sound was something not many bands at the time even thought about playing - that was for people who were behind their time, Sex Pistols era almost. The feeling that warmed my heart at that moment was something indescribable - illegitimate for words. It felt like a lighter had torched its way into my body, the sharp pain bruising a bright crimson all the way up my torso to my cheeks, a breath hitched back in my throat as I slowly figure out the way to breathe again. The pain that caressed my heart so dearingly was also paired with a strong sense of joy. Happiness. Delighted that the pieces of such a complex puzzle were fitting together.

As a minute or so went on, the crowd slowly began to get more and more into the music, some people now swaying their hips or dancing around with their friends. I couldn’t help but wonder how Kurt was beginning to feel, or what he was already feeling. Euphoria at the highest degree, something so strong not even a multiload of ecstasy could even attempt to give you. I found myself singing along to the words quietly, resulting in the people around me noticing that I was the only one who actually knew the song apart from the band. A random guy had turned to look at me, drink firmly gripped in hand, and with his rough attempt to shout over the loud music, whilst pointing towards the stage. “You know them?”

For a couple of scenes everything went still. I stopped moving, my eyes slowly getting lost with the man standing on the stage in front of me as I accidentally ignored the stranger’s question. I continued watching the stage, my eyes focused on Kurt - until his eyes abruptly opened, locking in with mine instantly. Startled, he noticed my starstruck expression, a little grin hanging off his lips. Maybe it was out of arrogance, however I knew he wasn’t planning on taking them off soon - not that I’d be the one to complain. His eyes were bright, glimmering with happiness; filled with life and fertility as they pierced into my soul so daringly, carrying the same devilish want that Adam had been challenged with once told not to eat the apple off the tree - his mind so intrusive he was simply unable to resist. His wondrous orbs carried a hint of impish, vanity, as they were also laced with a hint of seductivity and perhaps a shed of horniness, sudden greed blistering over his ocean-like eyes; he wanted it all, in the most wicked of ways. It would be a white lie if I had said this didn’t make me feel some sort of way; had he never looked at me like that before, I might’ve said otherwise. Perhaps his sudden bursts of confidence spewing out of him made him act this way, regardless, I knew it was something real. His eyes bestowed the same hunger he had initiated into his sudden approach when asking me what I thought of the music he had written, the first time me and him truly bonded together. I seemingly was unable to detach my eyes from him, for my body, heart and mind stayed encompassed in thought of how bewildered I was; in simply over a year, I had watched him grow, become more confident, sanguine, and it was all showing off now. He was staring at me as if the world was ending, and that I was the last thing he wanted engraved in his mind, aiding him into dying in such complacency it was almost as equal as equilibrium in the world of absolute zero. “Yes I do,” I muttered, nudging the unfamiliar person whom I hadn’t even set eyes upon. Feeling his gaze burn into my cheek, I continued to focus my eyes on Kurt, my tongue licking the sides of my mouth as I figured out words to muster. “That’s my boyfriend,”

#kurt cobain x reader #nirvana #kurt cobain #dave grohl #krist novoselic #90s #grunge #nineties #band imagines #imagines #fluff #smut #angst #my writing #grunge is not dead

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