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muffindaddystyles · 3 years

Note

Can you write overprotective long hair harry imagine?? Like he always hovers the reader when she is doing something or even nothing. Or when she needs to run errands he always go with even though its not required. And when reader fell sick he is full on mommy daddy mode dom!h vibes

A/N: OOPS I GOT EXCITED AND WENT OVERBOARD WITH IT :D

Harry’s awfully sweet. He’s a literal sweetheart with those marble sepia eyes, hazelnut curls and that big golden kind heart of his's.

But, to people he’s intimidating. From the black loiter of tattoos, a silver of piercing to the corner of his plush bottom lip and those long curls of his's that frays his broad strong shoulders turns everyone too giddy to talk to him and he's okay with that – bunch of loosers anyways whom he doesn’t want to waste his time on chit-chatting.

Then Y/N came into his life and his world flipped upside down, in a beautiful way (where he felt like floating into the crashing waves of crystal sea). It felt like she made him see the world through pink heart-shaped glasses and everyone’s just bursting into rainbows, puffaw! Boom! Their heads blasting with colourful confetti and ribbons.

Even though his slight grouchiness towards people lessened he still doesn’t gives two fucks before punching the shit out of someone if they in any way hurts, be rude and try to take physical and emotional advantage of, Y/N.

His bunny.

He’s too protective of her. And why wouldn’t he? She’s his everything. His little miracle and his hype-person, his lovie.

He’s the softest peach for her. The guy who walks and everyone scrambles away to give him a way, is whipped for his girlfriend.

He’s always having his strong arm looped around her waist when they’re out and walking, going to hold her hands instead if she’s too wiggly, keeping her close to his chest while he holds their coffees and sweets.

Whenever they’re doing grocery he’s always wheeling the cart around how much Y/N insists and pouts, he likes it that way. Hearing her blabber and skim her eyes down the ingredients labelled on the products then tossing it anyway with a shrug – makes him want to smooch her wet in kisses.

If they’re partying out with friends. Which they rarely do, (Y/N sometimes makes fun of them saying they’re getting too domestic day by day) he’s always having her put in his lap, his screwed up expression lazing when the alcohol starts to kick in and he’s just a blubbering mess of nonsense, and a very horn dog with his cock bloating up in his tight skinny jeans.

Not that he doesn’t let her have a breather and enjoy herself. He indeed does, they’ve a healthy relationship where they keep trust and faith in eachother.

But, sometimes he gets super jealous when people steal his little girlfriend away from him and once home he’s cuddling and oodling her, kissing her face all over with loud smacks and not letting her be away from him another second even it’s too bring him water or to get rid of his smelly socks.

Other times. When he’s particularly very jealous. The serious ones where Y/N unintentionally spends a tad more time at some of her classmates to wind up their upcoming project, he’s driving himself to pick her up and knocking at the door harshly and then dragging her out of there not letting her carry her stuff and huffing and puffing while throwing her things in the backseat.

Because Jeremy’s a sore rascal who’s shit at hiding his crush for Y/N and he should know better to whom she belongs. His innocent baby is too naive towards the possible hints and evil intentions of people.

“Oi. What got into you today?” She brushes the loose curl that escaped from his bun and let her fingers slide down his tight set angry jaw staring him a bit concerned upon seeing him this furious and ruffled up from nowhere.

“You’re mine,” Is all he'd respond. Smashing his lips against hers in a an ardent kiss and glide his palm down her ass to squeeze it and bring her closer grinning when she squeals into his mouth giving him a chance to slip his tongue in and kiss her deeper and sloppier.

“You’re a silly geese.” She giggles whisper into the mess of pecks and lock her elbows around his neck to give him an eskimo kiss.

“Watch y’mouth.” He glares her intensely loving the way Y/N gulps timidly bobbing her head.

“You’ll get a spanking today,” He always likes to warn her before hand. He wants her comfortable with him in every case and it’s downgrade monstrous to treat the person you love like a mean bitch out of blue -- so whenever she deserves a punishment he already announces her of it, warming her to the idea and giving her time to back away if she doesn’t want it.

“What did I’do now!” She whines and he nibbles onto his knuckle glancing her way in disbelief other hand on steering wheel, “What did y'do?” He asks her sternly. Spreading his palm over her thigh and squeezing it grimly.

“Did y'even care to look at the time, Y/N?” Oh boy. She’s in real trouble. Her name on his tongue never fails to turn her insides gooey and pause her heartbeat horribly. A red light for her to being bratty before she falls into the deep black dig of trouble.

Reaching home. He’s throwing her on the bed and demanding her to lay still on her tummy while he puts a pillow under her and spanks her bum sore with his rings imprinting her skin pink, though he never forgets to take care of her afterwards – putting a cool cream to soothe the burn and letting her sleep on his chest so she wouldn’t come in contact with the sheets as he kneads her asscheeks with gentle hands.

He could never have his hands to himself when she’s cooking and baking for them. Always, poking and prodding around having her head tucked under his chin, her embraced in his arms from back swaying them along to Hozier while she reads the recipe she wrote on one of the tiles.

“Stop!” She giggles, squirming in his arms when he blows raspberries against the dip of her neck and then creates growly noises biting and lapping into her skin, “You’re gonna burn our lunch!” She pressed her hips against his crotch to push him away and that warmed him more, delving his fingers more into her hips with a throaty groan.

“We could have a takeout.” His breath shuddery against her ear as he tries to pry the spatula away from her and kiss her grumpy whines down when the pots actually got burned, “I’ll wash and scratch them.” He’d assure picking her up and wrapping her legs around his hips and slipping his fingers in her hair to tug them and bring her mouth down against his’s to taste her.

“Wants to fuck you so bad, baby. My cock’s been weepy fo’ hours without your touch.” He groans, taking her hand and sneaking it inside his joggers to make her feel how stiff and erect he’s for her.

“I just gave you a blowie in the morning!”

“Blowie isn’t equivalent to fucking!”

“What y'readin,?” He scoots closer to her end of sofa with a smirk and towers over her trying to take a peek of whatever she’s reading with such intensity and then rake his warm palms up her calves to lay them over his thighs while he snuggles her wrapping a chonky blanket around them.

“Shhh baby girl, just want you to be more comfy.” He mumbles into her hair scratching his short nails against her scalp in soothing motions and watch her melt against his touch, eyes fluttering as she lurks dangerously to the verge of sleep.

“You always do that. Whenever the hot part’s about to come, you make me all sleepy.” She mutters laying her head against his clavicles gazing him up with hazy eyes, sighing in feign disappointment when he grins down at her in quite victory and gives her a sloppy kiss.

“What do y'need erotica fo’ baby? When your man’s the living walking momentum of sex.” He pouts, grazing his teeth down her neck and leaving a fresh hickey at her throat.

“That’s infact not, true. You’re such a cutie!” She beams up at him never failing to give him dancing butterflies in his stomach and he doesn’t admits it but he likes getting treated soft and gentle by his girlfriend.

“Such a shame. My own little love doesn’t find me sexy.” He grumps dramatically making her scramble hesitantly and turn to him in their tight embrace, cradling his face in her cold palms, “No. No. I find you sexy. I just don’t like sexualising you.” If Harry didn’t turn into a puddle before he indeed did now as he melted into her touch and kissed the inside of her hands lovingly.

“You’re sucha sap!” He whispers at her in fake offence and plant his lips against hers, patting her bum to make her hug him more tightly.

On cleaning and laundry day’s. He’s always helping her. As they scrub and mop the floors together, might fuck on them bubbly floors too if Harry’s lusty gaze remains on her spilling tits for too long.

“Thinks your floral bra needs a wash too, moppet.” His gradual attempts to lure her with his fingers stroking her thighs seductively always turns into a win when she nods shyly into his neck and let him have an easy access to her panties.

They’re always having a warm, full of essence bath together cleaning and washing the dirt off eachother after that.

Then sharing a cuppa tea while folding their clothes together on the bed and he’s always trying to tackle her into mattress when she laughs at his terribly folded clothes compared to her neatly binded ones.

“Your sucha menace,” He jests with his nose skewered up while he smacks her ass.

“Talk for yourself, Styles.” She retorts, tangling her knee around his waist and pulling him down into him. Puffing out relaxed breaths upon feeling safe and protected under his weight and Harry always smiles into the crook of her neck when she tries to cuddle him as if she wants to be his skin.

He’s the most daddiest when she’s drunk, sick or stressed.

Never letting her go out of his sight when she’s dancing on the floor with her friends. If some man even tries to approach her and breaths in her direction he’s sprinting towards her and pawing at her hips to situate her closer to him whilst blowing those potential guys off with a monotone expression.

“Harry! Do a lil dancey dance with me!” She giggles, making him sway with her and looking up at him with glassy floaty eyes.

“Bunny. ‘s late, time to go home.” He tells her, pinching her chin to plant his lips against hers and she squirms giving him a timid smile, “Okie. But I’ve to pee.”

“Me too!” Her friends chimes from behind her and Harry rolls his eyes playfully, gesturing all of them to follow him.

“C’mon you spies, not lettin’ ya’ll go alone.”

He waits for them outside the washroom while they do their business and he has his arms always splayed open for when his lovie comes back and he’s welcoming her in his embrace warmly with a sweet smile.

Dying with fond injecting in his every vein when she slurs and blabbers, “Home.”

Walking her up the stairs of their flat’s building is the most hefty struggle while she’s a sleepy, clumsy and giggly muck of doe gleaming eyes and swollen pretty lips drooling over Harry testing his patience while he makes her take one step at a time.

“Darling, bunny, just some mo' steps lovin’.” He coos at her, putting a firm hand under her bum and heaving her up into him so she doesn’t falls.

“Mhmmm you’re so pretty, daddy.” Harry’s head snaps in surprise as he stares down at her in adoring amusement and push her head under his chin while she slings her arms around his waist lazily.

Sometimes, she gets him so flustered he doesn’t know how to respond.

She whines and cries in dishevelment when Harry makes her sit on the cold marble counter and wipes her makeup off.

“I just wan’ to sleep!” She toes at his torso trying to push him away but he grabs it and tuts, glowering at her strictly, “You’re g'na complain in the mornin’. Sleepin’ with makeup makes ye' breakout remember?” When she still huffs and slumps giving him a hard time to clean her he’s pinching her chin and giving her a gentle jerk.

“Bunny. Stop with ye' battiness.” He grunts not letting his facade slip when she mewls stroking her cheek up and down his lightly stubble covered cheek softly.

“Else what? Y'never punish a sleepy bunny.” She smirks at him foppishly and lazily knowing damn well that one of thing Harry doesn’t do’s tease or punish her when she’s tuckered out and on the edge of sleeping on him.

“You don’t test me bratty woman.” She squeals when he takes hold of her panties to pull them down her legs, slapping her mound once discarding it in the hamper and he sighs when she’s already snoring lightly, slobbering his throat with her mouth parted comically.

After pattering her face with loving kisses he’s tucking her under the layers of blankets and letting her use him as her stuffie.

“Aw poor baby.” He mumbles, kissing her forehead when he finds her burning up against him and he’s quickly rummaging for thermometer from the night stand and the tissues he had stashed for emergencies.

“I don’t feel good,” His heart breaks when Y/N croaks out weakly and tries to crawl up his chest to stuff her face in his musky neck but her frail limbs gives out making her cry out.

“It’s okay bunny, ‘s okay. How but I make you some soup. Then y'take your medicines like a good girl of mine, then if your condition gets worse we’ll go to doctor, yeah baby?” He talks to her gently and sweetly, stroking her hair and peppering kisses to her temples.

“Just last bite, moppet.” Harry hovers the spoon infront of her and sighs when she shakes her head pushing his wrist away, “I’ll puke.” She sniffs blowing her nose harshly in the tissue .

“The bin’s right here, bunny.” He smoothens his hand down her spine putting the tray aside carefully to snuggle and comfort her as she cries softly against his chest.

“’M so sorry baby, you’ll be alright in the morning.” He couldn’t see her in such condition. It pulls and tugs at his heart so painfully he feels himself hurting.

“Oi. Why you crying, hmm?” He cups her cheek and makes her look at him as she skims her eyes away from him jn embarrassment.

“I —- You’re so caring and loving, treats me so good and it makes me c.. cr–-,” She hiccups finding it hard to breath and Harry rubs her back, whispering affinities in her ear making her finally sob, “Cry....” He chuckles softly pelting kisses upon kisses on her puffy eyelids, soaky dried up cheeks, her frowned up forehead, her wobbly chin and her nipping love bites down her chest then blowing raspberries at his own slick covering her skin making her giggle through her hiccups.

“I love you.” She whispers droopily, head lulling to his chest when the effect of medicine finally starts to kick in.

“I love you too, I want my healthy and happy bunny back.” He mumbles, inhaling a huge puff of her scent and squishes her lovingly.

#harry styles imagines #harry styles one shots #harry styles fanfictions #harry styles fanfic #harry styles smut #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fluff #harry styles blurb #harry smut #cute harry #harry styles #fluff #harry angst #hsh #dom harry

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yanderemommabean · 3 years

Note

Mermaid? Yandere mermaid?! Shake mermaid (merman) yandere?! Protective, bitey, siren boi?!

You stir in the waters slowly, feet kicking to keep you afloat while looking to the sky as the sun begins to set. You didn’t want to leave the serene waters, the cooling sensation on your skin mixed with the near weightless feeling made you feel inner peace that didn’t come with everyday life.

You’ve been here for hours, skin warm and definitely burnt to an extent (sunscreen has never worked for you, no matter what, you always set sun damage) so you should at least give in and take a good nap right? Let your cells heal what they can before the burning sensation really kicks in and you regret ever existing at the same time as the sun?

You shake your head and splash back into the waters, wanting to be care free for just a bit longer while your friends pack up and clean. The waters here are secluded, deep and still during the day, save for a few small fish that pass by your feet or some bugs that won’t fuck off from landing on you.

“Dude! Seriously, you know swimming at night is dangerous!” one calls out, waving to try and get your attention, but you just dip your head back and let the water block out the noise of their nonsense. Yeah ok bad idea for your ears, but hey short time solution! You don’t want to go back to the crowded camper with noises that make your skin bristle and people who don’t understand low-social battery. You don’t hate your friends, no, but they seem to think they always know what’s best for you and having alone time wasn’t on that list.

Backstroking, you ignore their growing cries to get you back on land, something about the fish aren’t safe at this time or some bullshit. Whatever, you’ll get to them in a minute. You just wanted to relax a bit more before putting on a smile and pretending to give a shit about the festivities they had planned for tomorrow.

OK maybe you’re cranky from no good food but hey, they’re the ones who can’t cook.

While basking in the hunger induced anger you created, a tug was felt on your ankle. Wet, slimy almost, firm grip tugging you under the waves. You suck in a breath in panic, a yelp being cut off while your head goes under and you take in water. Below the surface, in the now darkened depths with scattered moonlight, you meet the eyes of a creature who drains the color from your face.

Big, black eyes, curiously looking at you. Human like, finger- like appendages grasping your calf and tugging you closer. You’re horrified, fighting to break free only for another arm to come up and grab you, holding you under. The beast's eyes are wide with wonder and awe as they hold onto you, letting go abruptly and letting you rocket back to the surface.

Coughing and sputtering, you feel your lungs burning while trying to call for help, your friends rushing to the waters in a rescue attempt. “Help! S-somethings got me!” you cry out, seeing the whites of your friends eyes in a slight moment of hope, only to be yanked under again, this time more aggressively. You clench your eyes shut, water surrounding you no longer comforting, but suffocating. Webbed hands come up to cup your face, lacing something around your neck. You hold your breath as you kick, however it’s useless. The zero-gravity effect makes any actual possibility of a painful contact a fantasy. You soon wear down, dread overcoming you as your body forces open your mouth to try and take one last breath. Eyes shooting open, you are met with the black voids of the creature before you.

And you’re in awe at the fact you can breathe. You, a human underwater, can breathe. No, no you’re just dying! You’re just hallucinating from lack of oxygen and are about to pass on! Right? No chance is given for you to gather yourself, behind you another being wraps their arms around you and begins to swim downwards to the abyss below, moonlight dissipating into nothing.

The last thing your eyes can make out are the kicking feet and splashing arms of your friends searching for you, helpless and horrified.

“Shh shh” One shushes, cupping your face as you’re brought to a small cave. Your chest was glowing a bright blue, illuminating some of the area as you were laid upon a sandy bank, like that of a grotto. Their heads poke out, watching you gather your senses to the best of your ability, kicking the sand as you cry out for help (in vain, but hope can cause a person to do crazy things).

“N-No danger” a voice croaks out, wincing at the echo your terrorized voice made. They didn’t like knowing you were scared, and the rest of the pod felt the same. More and more heads pop out of the water to observe you, wondering why on earth you were so scared.

Your chest felt like a drum, tight and beating much too loudly. They can TALK? Oh fuck they can talk- and in your language! What the hell is happening?! You just wanted an extra five minutes to swim, that’s all you fucking wanted! Why? Why is life doing this to you?! What is happening?!

You clench your hair and try to stop the ongoing panic attack, tears rolling down your cheeks in frustration and confusion, building up and coming to a head. You let out one more anguished sob before falling to the sand, passing out entirely.

“They’re scared, they don’t know what’s going on” one murmurs, crawling up to the bank and petting your hair back. “We definitely need to explain ourselves, but they can’t take much more stress. What’s our plan?”

The pod talks in chitters and clicks, debating on how to care for you and how to explain their actions. The crystal on your chest thrums with each passing second, indicating your current state of health while the merfolk observe and debate. Some fingers come up to play with your hair, or to feel your soft skin as you are moved to a more comfortable area they could still reach.

They’ve waited a long time to find a new member to join their species, magic being the only way they can reproduce, and seeing a cute, delicate human just waiting in their territory was too good of an opportunity to pass up. It’s a sign! You’re meant to be with them, become one of them and live a new life in the deep!

Of course you wouldn’t exactly take the news well. You passed out just from hearing them talk, you wouldn’t exactly be in a state to comprehend their needs and their dedication to keeping you with them. But they’re prepared! A newcomer is needed, for many reasons.

They survive by having bonded mates, yet cannot reproduce without the help of magic. And to be lonely and have no one to bond with is killing them, literally. They have to have a lover to survive, a second (and in some cases, a third) half to stay alive and well and merry!

One of the merfolk will choose you as their bonded mate, but only if you don’t try to leave. A mate leaving will end a life quicker than a harpoon in some cases! Other cases, it’s agonizingly slow and painful. They can’t risk you, a lovely specimen, leaving and dwindling their numbers even more. They need to make a plan to keep you, whatever it takes.

You’ll learn to love your new marine life! Just give them a chance, will you?

(-Mommabean, hi I wrote this at 4 am and on little sleep! Tell me what you think! )

#yandere scenarios #yandere imagines #yandere mermaid #yandere merfolk #yandere mermay #mommabean #yandere hybrids #ya know if you want #yandere exophilia #yandere mythology

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shurisneakers · 3 years

Text

harmless (vii)

Summary: Bucky volunteers to go stop a small time villain, but nothing can prepare him for what exactly he has to deal with. (Bucky x villain!reader, drabble series)

Warnings: cursing, existential crisis, frustrated bucky, dramatic reader, lil bit of angst, clint barton being a lil shit

Word count: 3.4k

A/N: hey shoutout to @ugherik for suggesting a spin on the “A PLATYPUS!??!“ [perry puts his hat on] “PERRY THE PLATYPUS!???” thing. i used it in here, it’s a really small part and probably missable but i tried!! also i like the next chapter better than this one, i just wanted to put this here so it doesn’t seem abrupt <3333

here’s

my ko-fi

if you’d like to support my writing <333

Previous Part || Series Masterlist

Bucky can’t stop staring at the mirror.

He wishes it was for narcissistic purposes. He had enough reason for it to be. His age may be a hundred but he had the youthful exuberance of a very drained sixty year old.

But no, it wasn’t because of the steel cut jawline or thousand gigawatt smile.

After last week’s mini-spiral, he does what almost half the videos on TikTok warn him not to do.

He got a haircut.

Everyone’s reaction stopped him from following it up with an ear piercing, but he can’t confidently say he didn’t at least consider it once. Maybe a neck tattoo.

He pulls at a lock of hair. It’s not even longer than his finger.

What did he do-

“It’s just a haircut, man,” he says to no one in particular, almost like he’s trying to reassure himself.

He runs his hands through his hair. It takes lesser time than he was used to.

Steve had told him he looked good. But then again, Steve wore a fugly costume 90% of the time, what did he know?

Clint acknowledged it and didn’t outright call him ugly, which he supposed was a compliment. Wanda simply smiled at him.

“FRIDAY?” he reaches out.

“Yes, Sergeant Barnes?” comes the automated reply.

“How are you?” It took him some getting used to her, given that she was constantly listening to everything, and in general seemed to go against the universal idea of privacy.

But his therapist told him he needed to form friendships.

She didn’t mention it had to be human ones.

“As good as ever. Is there anything I can help you with?”

He wants to ask her what she thinks of his hair until he realises fashion advice from a faceless AI is a new low for him. Maybe ‘Do you think I should crawl into a pit and die?’ would be more appropriate.

“Never mind,” he dismisses instead. “Any messages for today?”

“A reminder to buy a harder bed because you can’t keep sleeping on the floor.” Ah, that was on Sam’s recommendation three months ago, but he wasn’t going to stop any time soon. “And a text from a contact named Nuisance saying to meet them at the attached location in thirty minutes.”

“Where is the location?”

“The local sports centre.”

“Isn’t that closed today?”

If he had to go out in public looking like this, maybe he could wear a cap and sunglasses and no one would recognise him. Unfortunately, as he was reminded several times before by anyone with an iota of common sense, it was a stupid disguise.

Beanie it was, then. Bare minimum.

“It is, yes.” Fewer citizens to worry about.

“Okay.” He hesitates in front of the mirror again, adjusting the hat on his head. “Thank you, FRIDAY.”

“You’re welcome, Sergeant.”

He stares at the little tuft of hair at the front that refused to stay down no matter how much he shoved it back.

“Come on, man,” he exhales in slight despair. “Whatever.”

____

The lock of the door leading to the pool is easy enough to pick. He can see how you got in without a hitch even though it was closed.

The deck around the pool was absolutely drenched in water. No one was using it, there was no reason for water to splash out unless it was deliberately kept like this.

He catches sight of you easily, being that you’re the only two people there. You were standing at the end of the hall, head ducked as you scrolled through your phone.

The door closes behind him with a soft thud.

You don’t look up from your mobile when you start talking, “What do you think 6 year olds like?”

Because James Barnes, carbon dated to 1917 and therefore certified young person, would definitely know the answer to this question.

“I don’t know. Lego?”

“Just how much money do you think a teacher makes-”

You stopped mid-sentence, finally lifting your head to catch his eye. He stares back at you, steps faltering when you don’t move.

"Who are you?" you squinted.

What

"It's me," Bucky says, tugging off the dumb beanie and using it to gesture vaguely towards himself. Fuck, he shouldn’t have worn it, it was ridiculous anyway-

"You sound like him..." You narrow your eyes. “You don't look like him.”

Great

He rolls his eyes before putting on a mock scowl. Can't have Bucky Barnes without a sense of eternal disgruntlement.

"Oh hey, that is you." You grin. "You got a haircut."

“I did.” He suddenly feels the awkwardness increase. His fingers fidget with the beanie.

“Nice.” You nod in acknowledgement.

He wants to hit himself at the words that just spill out before he could think about it. “You hate it.”

“I never said that,” you snort. “And since when does my opinion matter?”

“It doesn’t.” But now he wants to know what you think since he didn’t trust anyone else to tell him honestly.

“Must cut down on time in the shower, huh?”

It did.

He shrugs. He shoves the beanie into his back pocket.

“Was it a crisis haircut?” How did you kno- “Are you going to get bangs next time?”

“Shut up,” he says lamely, a dull burn in his cheeks.

“I know a place where you can get hair dye for cheap. Not technically FDA approved, but I think purple streaks are a good place to start-”

“What are we doing here?” he interrupts, sighing.

“Skinny dipping. Take off your shirt, Barnes.”

“Funny,” he says dryly, eyeing your shoes when you straighten up.

Ice skates.

“Fine, pants then.” You don’t make any effort to move from your end so he does, walking closer to you.

“What are those for?” He doesn’t hide the annoyance from his voice when he points at your feet.

“Oh, these?” You look down at them. “Yeah, I’m going to freeze the pool.”

That seems... mild compared to the shit show you wanted to do last time.

“For?” He halts where he is.

“’M gonna take my friends ice skating.”

“Is that all?” He wants to make a comment about the fact that you have friends but bites it back.

“Today is just a trial run. Tomorrow I’m gonna go freeze the East River.” There it is.

“The East River is not your personal ice skating rink.”

“Not yet it isn’t.” You lift up a middle finger.

It was too early for you to flip him off, even by your standards.

He raises an eyebrow.

Your face scrunches in confusion. You follow his gaze to your finger. “Oh yeah, no, that’s a freeze ring.”

Only then he notices a ring around the finger. From where he was standing he could make out the blue stone that adorned it.

“Joy.” He rolls up the sleeves of his black bomber jacket. “Let’s get this done with, then.”

“No no, wait.” You hold up your hand and he complies, having nothing to lose anyway. You pull out your phone and press a few buttons before shoving it back into your bag and tossing it aside.

The soft sounds of a piano start playing from a boombox near the corner of the room. A child starts singing following a series of knocks.

His eyebrows furrow. “What the fuck is this?”

“The Frozen soundtrack.” You beam at him. “I thought it was fitting.”

He doesn’t know what that is and at this point, he’s too afraid to ask. He can vaguely make out the lyrics being about a snowman but he isn’t too concerned.

He takes one step forward. You immediately point your fist at the ground in front of him, forcing him to jump back when a blast hits right in front of his shoes. Suddenly he gets why the floor is covered in water.

It sounds like a series of cracks as the water starts freezing over, a layer of ice now separating him and you.

"You ready?” The mischief was woven in your voice as the blasts continued throughout the deck, effectively turning the entire floor into ice.

Bucky takes a step tentatively forward. Not bad. He takes another. Okay.

The third one is when shit starts to hit the fan. His hands shoot out to hold onto his balance when his footing slips from beneath him.

His Nike sneakers aren’t used to snow. They’re used to well manicured lawns and pavement trips to Starbucks and marble floors of the compound. Not swimming pool decks covered in ice.

He can hear you singing in the distance and every time he looks up you’re a little further away, making sure every inch of space is frozen.

It takes him a while to get over the initial fear of breaking his skull and just move forward swiftly with short steps. A goddamn penguin is what he looked like.

“There you go, you’re getting it,” you chirp as you whiz past him. He reaches out to grab at you, only to miss by an inch. He staggers, arms flapping wildly to regain his stability.

He hears crackling beside him. He gets a second or two to watch ice crystals spread through the water before turning it completely solid. You step onto the now frozen pool, testing your weight with one leg before cautiously getting on.

A triumphant smile emerges on your face. “Awesome.”

He manages to press himself against the wall as a form of support.

There is no point to this whole thing. He knows this. It’s been well over 6 weeks and there is genuinely no point to this.

He realises it again when he moves from side to side, body erupting into a waddle.

Why is he doing this. He doesn’t get paid extra. He doesn’t get any kind of compensation. All he gets is more wisecracking geniuses, embarrassment and the mortifying ordeal of getting caught imitating a penguin.

The song changes to a woman singing about doing something for the first time, forcing him to pay attention to it. He hears something about ball room and balls and tunes right back out.

Bucky manages to find his way to the actual pool since that’s where you’re twirling around, opting to land on his mental arm in case things go wrong. He takes a sliding step forward, followed by another. Maybe he can do this.

“If a 200 pound super soldier can stand on this, I suppose it’s strong enough,” you muse, watching him slip and slide as he tries to invent makeshift ice skating.

Unfortunately, his method doesn’t have any brakes, so while he’s too busy trying to move forward, there’s no way to actually stop. He finds this out very soon when he almost launches himself off the edge of the pool.

Something yanks him backwards and back onto the ice.

“Honestly, this is utterly useless since you can’t really do anything but it’s the most fun I’ve had all week,” you admit when he goes sliding towards the middle, arms flailing.

“You had to pick fuckin’ ice of all things.” He thinks that maybe he’s getting a hang of this. He can definitely move faster than what he was doing like, 10 minutes ago. It’s not like you were going anywhere, anyway.

“I like to keep things spicy.”

He stays where he is to glare at you. You mouth the words to the song, watching his every move whenever it interested you.

Okay, change of plan; a temporary distraction till he figures out how to actually get the ring from you. He settles on skating towards the edge of the rink slowly, taking a step off, slipping almost immediately when his foot comes in contact with the deck.

“Where are you going?” you yell over the music initially but immediately break into song when it ends in a crescendo.

He takes a knee, lifting his metal arm up before driving it into the ground. It shatters magnificently, leaving small shards of ice at his disposal.

He picks up one of them, waiting for you to complete your dumb twirl. He takes aim, and-

“Ouch, what the fuck?” You stop your off key singing to rub your shoulder where the ice hit you.

He wordlessly picks up another piece to throw at you, hitting you squarely in the leg.

“Stop that!”

He may not be able to move as fast but he can definitely throw.

“Give me the ring,” he commands, stretching his arm behind his back before releasing another piece to hit your forearm.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” There’s nowhere you can skate to avoid his stupidly good marksmanship.

“You gotta do what you gotta do.” He shrugs, breaking another patch of ice to replenish his ammo. “Hand over the ring.”

“Over my dead body,” you shriek when a particularly big piece lands next to your feet. You knew he missed that shot on purpose.

“I feel like I’m finally acting my age,” he says casually, finding your darting about in order to avoid him more fun than he initially thought. “Can’t throw pebbles at meddling kids so this is the next best option. Thanks.”

“If you acted your age you’d be in a casket, Barnes,” you hissed, finding that skating in zig zags helped your cause, but not by much. “I’d be- you bitch- I’d be more than happy to help you get there.”

You raise your arm, ready to send another blast to freeze the water that was starting to melt around him, hopefully, keep him where he was if it froze around him.

He flinches. You notice immediately, hand dropping slightly when you realise what it looked like.

“I’m not gonna freeze you,” you say, softer than you intended. From what you knew, he had enough and more experience with that and you weren’t going to contribute to it.

He swallows thickly, giving himself a little shake of his head as if to jolt him out of his train of thought.

Another piece of ice hits you in the leg. You let out a string of curses at him.

“The more ice you make, the more I have to throw at you, Y/N.” He waits for you to regain your balance when you nearly take a stumble.

“Shut up, you’re so immature.”

“Remind me whose plan this was again?” No point waiting for you to regain your balance when you fall over only a few seconds later.

He gathers a few shards in his beanie, tucking it into his belt like a little makeshift rucksack just in case before venturing out on the main rink again.

It’s more difficult for you to stand without railings to guide you, giving him enough and more time to make his way towards you, staggering and skidding.

Both of you looked ridiculous.

“Stay away, fiend.”

“Ring first.” He holds his hand out in front of you. He even considered pulling you up if you just made things easier.

Next thing he knows he’s on his ass on the ice beside you.

“I hate you,” he groans, watching as you inch away from him on your knees.

He doesn’t really have any other options so he shoves aside the humiliation and gets on his knees, using his arms to drag him along the ice.

“For the love of Christ, none of us are winning here. Just give me the ring.”

The bitch from the soundtrack sings about letting it go but he won’t.

“Never,” you shout, sliding away from him as fast as possible.

You make use of the fact that the top layer of ice is starting to melt, using the ring to freeze it again. His knees and fingers get stuck as the water freezes over but he has super strength. It barely takes him a second to free himself.

“Great,” he huffs, just settling down on the ice, ignoring the sting of cold that was spreading through his limbs. Running after you wasn’t going to work; he needed a way to get the ring.

“You won last time, I’m not letting you win again.”

“Are we seriously keeping score?” He watches as you scramble towards the edge.

“No one likes a loser, Bucky.” You use the pool stair railings to pull yourself up.

“Explain why you have friends then.” He can’t help himself this time.

“Hardy har har.” You roll your eyes.

He doesn’t make an effort to move. Instead, when you take a step back into the rink, he raises his arm and pummels it into the ice, just to annoy you.

The ground damn near shakes, pushing you dangerously towards losing your balance again.

“Are you crazy?” Your arm shoots out in front of you to keep you from falling headfirst.

“No.” He does it again. This time there’s a crack in the ice. “I’m just very tired.”

“If the ice breaks we’re both gonna be underwater, you moron!”

“Fine by me.” He shrugs. “Freeze it again. I’ll just find different ways to ruin it for you.”

You glare at him. He raises his arm above his head again.

“Fine! Fine, stop.” You eye him as he lowers his arm.

He reaches for his stash of ice pieces from earlier, throwing one at your shoulder again.

“Boy, I swear if you don’t stop doing that-” you duck when another one comes at you. You had no idea he could be this annoying.

It suddenly hits him, like a lightbulb going off in his brain. He wipes his hands off on his jacket, getting on all fours before slowly managing to pick himself up again.

He looks at you, tilting his head slightly like he was studying you.

“What?” you ask suspiciously, eyeing as he starts inching closer towards you. “What are you thinking?”

It’s like watching a newborn deer stumble its way through the world, albeit more gracefully, until he starts picking up speed. The motherfucker was going to mow you down.

The skates are useful but not so much when an extremely determined bumbling oaf is barrelling towards you, his speed beginning to match yours even without equipment.

You don’t know why you’re running, you don’t know why he’s chasing after you but when you see the end of the pool you take a sharp left only to have him knock right into you, sending you both sprawling.

You land half on top of him, breaking your fall but it doesn’t stop the very loud groan that escapes your mouth. He’s already in the process of sitting up straight, giving you less time to analyse what just happened.

“What the fuck was that for?” you speak through gritted teeth. “Fuckin’ acting like the both of us have free healthcare.”

“You refused to give up.”

“So your plan was to tackle me like a quarterback?” You threw your hands up.

“One part of it.” He drags himself to the edge, away from you.

“There's more to your monkey brained plan?” He doesn’t look at you. The ice around the pool has more or less melted, letting him gain proper footing on the floor before he stands up.

“Oh, yeah.” He turns to you. “The other’s a trick I stole from Stark.”

Bucky holds up the ring. Your jaw slightly drops, eyes searching your finger for the now missing piece of tech.

“Suppose that’s two points for me?”

You’re impressed. You also want to stab him. So you do the next best thing.

“When I imagined you holding a ring in front of me, the circumstances were very different,” you comment.

“Bye, Y/N.” He spins on his heel, not even giving you a second’s worth of reaction. You found it amusing.

He heads towards the door, clothes all wet. He empties out melted ice water from his beanie before stuffing it into his pocket. Just when he’s about to leave, you remember something.

Do you mean it genuinely or just because it has an effect on him?

“Just for the record, Barnes, about your hair-” you call out, earning his attention from over his shoulder. “I think you look really good either way.”

The world may never know.

You swear you can see the corners of his lips quirk upwards before he turns around again.

He slips on a block of ice, cursing and clenching on to the door to keep him upright, quickly yanking it open and leaving before he has a chance to embarrass himself further.

Smooth.

Next part

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #mcu fic #bucky fic #bucky barnes fic #bucky fluff #bucky barnes fluff #bucky angst #bucky barnes angst #harmless fic #winter soldier x reader #Winter Soldier #bucky barnes #bucky

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2-cute-4-school · 3 years

Text

𝚗𝚌𝚝 𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚖 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚊 𝚌𝚞𝚍𝚍𝚕𝚢, 𝚎𝚡𝚑𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚜/𝚘

a/n: hiiiii so i decided to make this a 2in1 reaction; basically i just put together 2 of my requests that were *in my opinion* closely related. hope y’all don’t mind and enjoy!! ( ˊᵕˋ )♡.°⑅

requested by annonies: ‘Hey.. could you please do nct dream reaction to s/o having high fever and just wants cuddls? 🥺 like how would they take care of them.. make it fluffy please.’ & ‘nct dream reaction to their s/o being EXTREMELY tired and then like ummmmm cuddling and stuff maybe?? *uwuing in the distance*’

Mark Lee

okay but just imagine this (๑◕︵◕๑)

cuddle sessions when you’re both stretched thin and overworked

even though we all know he isn’t big on skinship i think he would throw all reticence out the window when it’s crystal clear that you both NEED each other ꒰๑˃͈꒳˂͈๑꒱ﾉ*ﾞ̥

so you just crawl under the bankets into his arms and you both just lay together in silence just enjoying each other’s presence

bonus points if he runs his hand through your hair and you trace shapes with the pads of your fingers on his skin (´,,•ω•,,)♡

it would probaby take a couple of lazy kisses and if you’re really really soft he might just hum some song lowly in your ear

just a lil heads up:

you ain’t getting out of his arms ‘til next morning so better hope you peed beforehand and have a bottle of water in reach (ಠ‿↼)

the only thing that would make him get up without a second thought?

if you’re feverish because of your exhaustion

his worry wouldn’t allow him to settle down until he’s 110% sure he made everything in his power to keep you comfortable

“cold towels, water, painkillers just in case, is there anything i’m forgetting? babe, should i make you some tea-”

“mark, you know what would make me feel SO much better?”

“huh?” ｢(ﾟ<ﾟ)ﾞ??

“CUDDLES, BABE, CUDDLES!!” (╬ Ò ‸ Ó)

you don’t have to say that twice, your man is tucking you into his side in an instant flash ain’t got nothing on mark, he’s a man on a mission

he’ll try to stay awake long enough to make sure you’ve fallen asleep properly since he knows your fever won’t go away without proper rest

might hover over you the next morning too!! ( ≧Д≦)

Huang Renjun

this boy would FRET like CONSTANTLY

especially if you develop a fever

he keeps piling up a lot of stuff in your room, anything he deems would be potentially helpful at some point is surrounding your bed

“jun, why tf is a cactus on my nightstand?” Σ(-᷅_-᷄๑)

“what if haechan walks through the door?”

“... understandable” ¯\_( ◉ 3 ◉ )_/¯

your room looks like a deposit at this point and you’ve tried to drag him to bed more times than you can count

but he’s restless ༼ ಥ ‿ ಥ ༽

until your frustration topples over and you’re on the verge of tears as you ask him for ✨cuddles ✨

he might actually feel bad for not joining you earlier so he’s gonna be EXTRA soft with you enjoy it while you can

he’s gonna pepper kisses all over you as he encases you in his lil arms and nuzzles his face into the crown of your head (っ˘з(˘⌣˘ )

he’s ready to offer free massages or head scratches!!!! LIMITED OFFER DON’T MISS OUT!!!

also he’s ready for literally anything

fever? medicine and wet towels nearby. thirst? 4 bottles of water AND gatorade. hunger? your favourite take out is waiting. any intruders? cactus is right by his hand. cuddles? CUDDLES!!!!! (۶* ‘ꆚ’)۶”

i think he’ll probably stay up even after you fell asleep, reading about how exhaustion affects one’s body and how to help i just think he’s a really wholesome person despite his all ‘don’t talk to him he angy’ character

but he’s still SO attentive to you!!

he’s down to anything that would make you feel better and if that means 20 hours of non stop cuddling so be it (๑•̀ㅂ•́)و✧

Lee Jeno

i think he’d be REALLY clingy with you even in normal circumstances kind of like how he’s with mark ya know

so your affected well-being will just give him an extra reason to evolve to his ULTIMATE LEVEL OF PHYSICAL AFFECTION◝( ′ㅂ`)و ̑̑

he won’t let you lift A FINGER

my man is cuddling you even while standing up (灬 ♡ ω ♡ 灬)

he’s also going to insist on carrying you anywhere even if it’s just from the bed to the bathroom this boi is strong you have no excuse to shy away from him he won’t let you

you have no chance at escaping him btw his arms are made of iron when it comes to cuddles good luck prying them off you

and even though he’s clearly focusing on your requested cuddles, he’ll ask you from time to time if you need anything, how you’re feeling, if you’re comfortable

lowkey uses the excuse of checking your temperature to give you endless forehead kithes cuz he can (*＾∀ﾟ)ъ

he also becomes kind of hyperaware of every little move you make

you shiver? he’s cocooning you in yet another blanket. you’re becoming restless? he adjusts your cuddling position until you’re fully comfortable.

NOTHING gets past him ┌༼ σ ‸ σ ༽┐

idk why but i have a hunch that jeno sleeps like a rock

so if he happens to fall asleep too and you need to get up? pfft yeah sure better call for a crane to lift you up from the bed ૮( ᵒ̌ૢꇴᵒ̌ૢ )ა｡

he’s also going to be EXTREMELY cranky if anyone dares interrupt your extended cuddle session this is strictly ‘only y/n and jeno time’

he might also entertain you with a few pictures of his cats if you’re feeling soft or ugly pictures of his members if you need a good laugh

would totally recommend leaving yourself in jeno’s care!! ♡(.◜ω◝.)♡

Lee Haechan

he would LIVE for your cuddle sessions (●♡∀♡))

despite that, he WOULDN’T STAND you being uncomfortable for a single second if he can do something against that

i think he’s the type of person who wouldn’t leave even the smallest of papercuts untreated when it comes to his partner so exhaustion? fever? yeah no. frickin. way. ┐(;Ծ⌓Ծ;)┌

and after he’s absolutely sure he has everything you might need nearby and put a cold cloth on your forehead and made sure you were hydrated and well fed

he finally climbs into bed with you and just SMOTHERS the shite outta you i’m not even kidding ꒰๑*´ᗜ`*꒱*›◡‹꒱꒱

he’s full on *leech mode*, kisses and nuzzles and gentle caresses

and best part of the package? this man is a walking spotify premium!!

you get to choose whatever song you want and switch with no ads and he has no complaints since his payment is already made in cuddles

you thought this was the end of it?? SIKE

also an entertainment king!! ୧༼✿ ͡◕ д ◕͡ ༽୨

we all know he probably has shit on all of the members and he’s not shy to do some harmless story telling to put you in a good mood

so just imagine and try coming up with anything better

sleepy you engulfed in the sunshine himself’s arms, tightly cradled against him with his soothing honey voice murmuring and humming to you and only you ˭̡̞(◞⁎˃ᆺ˂)◞*✰

his protective side might surface too btw

no one is allowed near you and if someone somehow managed to bother you? oh hell naw 🙃

now they’re on hyuck’s black list good luck mate

his babie gets the royalty treatment in those times guaranteed

Na Jaemin

he’s a doting boyfriend either way i think we can all agree on that

but you clinging to him and asking for cuddles? you not feeling well?

yeah not on his watch mother hen in action part the sea (ﾉ･ｪ･)ﾉ

i don’t think he’d panic tho, his only struggle would be postponing the cuddles you’re asking for while he prepares something to eat and a tea and fluffs up the pillows and blankets he’s gathered (oꆤ︵ꆤo)

but once he’s done?

yeah you’re bundled in a mountain of softness and most importantly? our cuddle bug jaemin (♡ >ω< ♡)

he’ll keep you propped up against his chest while he feeds you himself, proper care is something unskippable in his agenda

but after that any cuddling position is FREE REAL ESTATE!!

anything his baby wants, his baby gets ෆ╹ .̮ ╹ෆ

but for the sake of his mental stability he’d prefer to be in a position from where he can see you

boi is too worried to let you out of his sight so he’s aiming to be the big spoon or facing you directly 三 ( ◜◡‾)っ)⁰▿⁰)

he’ll help you fall asleep in any way he can

he’ll caress your back, your arms, he’ll softly massage your neck and shoulders, he has a playlist ready for sleepy moods

he is PREPARED ٩(๑•̀ㅂ•́)و

he checks your temperature every so often and he grumbles with a pout if it doesn’t seem to be going down

but if it comes down to it he won’t hesitate to ask someone to bring some medicine and if your exhaustion and/or fever doesn’t relent he’ll insist on getting checked by a doctor

it would break his heart to see you so weak and no ammount of cuddles could repair it until he sees you up and healthy again (◕⌓◕;)

but he’ll do all the pampering in the world so don’t worry

Zhong Chenle

i think he would hesitate at first but only because he’s kinda scared he’ll only make it worse and he WOULDN’T want that ( ⚆ _ ⚆ )

eventually i guess he’d step out to call his mum for help before he pulls some bull like ‘let’s do some math it’s gonna be fun’ and you lose your shit like no thanks fam i wanna live (┛ಠДಠ)┛彡┻━┻

he’ll listen RELIGIOUSLY to his mum’s advice

makes you some chamomile exactly how you like it, probably pulls together something small to eat but won’t force you

what he will force you to take is some medicine you ain’t dying on his watch (๑･`▱´･๑)

and most importantly... DAEGAL CUDDLES!!!! imagine getting to cuddle every nctzen’s bias

he might get *a little* jelly tho if you pay too much attention to her tho

so he makes up some dumb excuse about dog hair aggravating your fever or some dubious other reason why you have to let go of his puppy and cuddle HIM!! ೕ(•̀ᴗ•́)

he’ll do that cute thing where he leans his forehead against yours to check your temperature he has to be extra until the end

and before you go to sleep he’ll try to prod at you to tell him what caused you to be so exhausted that you developed a fever might nag at you too about how unheathy it is to let it get to that point

he just wants to help okay? baby is worried in his own way ( •́ ∧ •̀ )

if there’s ANYTHING he can do to help consider it done by the time you wake up he’ll ALWAYS go an extra mile for you

and chenle wants to make sure you are aware of that and can lean on him so it never gets to this point again

but for the time being... it’s cuddles and relaxation time!! ✧(๑✪д✪)۶

better believe he’s already preparing a spa day for both of you to enjoy like the ✨spicy ✨ bitches you are

Park Jisung

his heartbeat accelerates

and unfortunately it’s not because he’s flustered shame (#ﾟﾛﾟ#)

his only thought when he sees you with bag under your eyes and a cold wet cloth on your forehead is ‘shit, they’re dying wait no censor the first part i can’t get my mouth washed with soap but... poop, they’re dying’

ONE step away from calling for an ambulance or morgue in his mind

he SWEARS he’ll let you teach him how to ride a bycicle as long as you get out of this safe and sound (╬⁽⁽ ⁰ ⁾⁾ Д ⁽⁽ ⁰ ⁾⁾)

he’s a bit of a mess, but he’s your cute mess

it would take *quite* a bit of reassurance that you’re going to be fine after a good night’s sleep and some jisung time for him to somewhat relax

his cheeks will flush once he curls himself around your form no matter how many times you’ve cuddled before

but once you sigh blissfully once he wraps his arms around you, it’s game over for him ε=(｡♡ˇд ˇ♡｡）

he MELTS against you

he’ll caress your head and gently scratch your scalp, lays kisses on your cheeks/forehead/crown of your head

but he will also fret every time you toss and turn or you make any sound that seems ‘distressed’ to him

we all know he can sleep anywhere under a frickin carpet so he won’t have any problems adjusting to whatever works for you since all that matters to him atm is that you’re comfortable (♡ >ω< ♡)

he just wants you to get better faster

he’ll talk to you in a hushed voice, encouraging and praising you and assuring you that once you’re all better he’ll help you with whatever you need and EVERYTHING will be well in the end ٩(ó｡ò۶ ♡)

he’s a senstitive person so he just wants to be there for you in any shape and form he can be

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dirtychocolatechai · 3 years

Text

meet-cute | b.b.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Warning(s): fluff, awkward Bucky, vet appointment stuff, Alpine Request: Babes if you're lowkey taking requests can I lowkey make one? 👉🏼👈🏼🥺💕 something flirty and cute and maybe a lil spicy with Bucky and vet!reader where something's going on with Alpine? Not self indulgent at all 😻💖 Notes: This was the first thing I’ve written in months and it felt damn good. Funny story, I actually almost went to school to be a vet tech + shadowed a vet for two weeks and got to see some wickedly cool things.

This was a bit self-indulgent on my part because I had a cat who passed away some years ago because of struvite stones and I wished he had a happier ending like Alpine so I thought why not 🤷‍♀️💖

Taglist is open

(gif from google)

There’s nothing Bucky hates more than the stringent smell of industrial cleaners and clinical white walls - too many associations and shades of memory long laid to rest - except for when something’s going on with Alpine. The Turkish Angora was fine up until a few days ago when he started to hide away and sleep all day.

That wasn’t too concerning at first...

But then came the pained little noises, the frantic running back and forth from the litter box, the excessive grooming. The pit that started forming low in his belly grew, his instincts screaming at him that something was wrong, very wrong, with his little buddy.

Bucky wasn’t about to fuck around and set up an appointment with the first vet office he could find that had a same-day opening. And now he’s trying not to fall apart at the seams while he waits for the docs to do their magic and tell him what the hell’s going on with his cat and what he has to do to fix it.

The vet tech collected Alpine a bit ago and every minute stretches into years, the cat’s pitiful meow echoing in his ears and those betrayed eyes burned onto the backs of his eyelids.

I know, Bub, I’m sorry but they gotta figure out what’s going on. It’ll be okay, they’ll take care of you.

His ass went numb from the plastic chair ages ago, his leg jiggling up and down at a rapid pace as he chews on his thumbnail and waits.

And waits.

God, he knows these things take time but he’d rather be back at home, curled up on the couch with Alpine pigging out on breakfast food and watching space documentaries.

How much longer-

“Alright, Mr. Barnes?”

The heavy door swings open with a click, a kind, professional voice preceding a pair of sensible shoes as the vet steps into the room with a clipboard cradled against her chest. His eyes snap up, skipping over her completely to look at the tech holding his cat who looks absolutely miserable.

She introduces herself but he’s not paying attention. He’s not meaning to be rude but all his focus narrows in on that white little face, the knot in his chest unfurling at the little mew.

He smiles, his eyes crinkling around the edges as he breathes, “Hey there, Little Buddy.”

The vet doesn’t push, in fact, she seems a little enamored with how much he melts at the sight of his pet. Her own lips quirk up into a soft smile while she stands off to the side patiently as Alpine’s set down on the metal table.

Bucky gets in a few good scritches under his chin, the beginnings of a purr just starting to vibrate his hand when the vet clears her throat delicately.

He clears his throat, heat burrowing into the apples of his cheeks. “Shi - uh, ‘m sorry.” A hand scrubs over the back of his neck. “I’m just - uh - y’know...”

Her laugh trickles down his spine like warm rain, the sound effectively drawing his attention away from the cat rubbing up against his side. He gets his first look at her and oh.

A bare face and a no-nonsense hairstyle greet him, her scrubs and white coat adding to the overall doctor vibe but she’s still breathtaking. The natural beauty in the curves of her face, the slant of her brows, the sparkle of her eyes.

He feels like he got sucker-punched in the chest, his heart giving a sudden throb that has him coughing like an idiot as he scrambles to not look like such a jackass.

“So,” he clears his throat, scratching at the stubble along his jaw, “What’s - what’s wrong with him?”

Glancing down at Alpine’s chart, she hums and writes a note before glancing back up with a reassuring smile. “Nothing that can’t be managed with a special diet and watching his water intake.”

It’s like the weight of the world disappears from his shoulders, his broad frame practically heaving with his sigh of relief. “Oh thank fucking- ahem, ‘scuse me - thank god.”

Her chuckle and sly smile have him blushing from the roots of his hair to the collar of his shirt, his stomach squirming in discomfort. Old habits are hard to break, especially ones his momma taught him with a box to the ear.

“You’re allowed to swear, Mr. Barnes,” she says, reaching down to run her fingers through snow-white fur. “We’re all adults here.”

“No, no, I know...”

“Hm, anyway, his blood work came back and everything looks fine which is a good thing.”

And it’s back to business like that, any hint of personality hidden behind cool professionalism that Bucky thinks even Tasha would admire. Except for the playful gleam in her eyes as she sneaks peeks at him while going over everything they did and what they found.

“Struvite crystals are quite common in cats at low levels, especially males because their tract is longer and narrower.” She pauses, flipping to a new page. “Depending on the severity, they can clump together in the urinary tract and actually form stones. That’s where the true problem lies because get one large enough, and it can cause a blockage.”

He’s listening with rapt attention, soaking in the knowledge she’s imparting to him all the while, petting Alpine who keeps nuzzling him and making little sounds. Honestly, he could listen to her talk for hours even if he didn’t understand a goddamn thing.

She’s so animated when she speaks, holds eye contact and makes sure he understands everything without making him feel like an idiot. He’s had so many doctors who talked at him rather than with him, staring through him without seeing, more interested in the paycheck rather than their patients.

But not her, she cares.

Deeply.

He can see it all over her face and it’s utterly enchanting. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t a little enamored, charmed.

Turning the tablet towards him, she shifts closer and a waft of whatever perfume she’s wearing tickles his nose as she explains what the x-ray of Alpine’s abdomen found.

“These are the stones but thankfully they’re relatively small,” she points to several hazy white ovals starkly visible on the radiograph, “We caught them in time before they became a really big problem.”

Shit, she smells so good...

“Now, we’ll send you home with a special diet and see how he does. Also, make sure to up his fluid intake as much as you can. The food can take several months to start dissolving the crystals so we’ll have to do everything we can to help. Sound good?”

Bucky hasn’t pulled his eyes away from her face once this entire time, and how fucking creepy is that?

Quickly looking down at Alpine, embarrassment gnawing at his belly, he nods and wishes for the first time since he cut his hair that he hadn’t so he’d at least have a passing chance at hiding the blush burning its way across his face.

“Yeah,” he says, picking up the ball of white fluff to hold against his chest, a makeshift shield. “Is there anything else I should do?”

“No.” She smiles, writing another note and tapping away at the tablet next to her. “I do want to see him again in about a month for a check-up.”

Fuck, he doesn’t want to leave so soon.

The irony isn’t lost on him either.

How does he make this last longer? What can he do? If Sam was here right now, he’d be kicking him in the ass and bitching at him to ask for her number already, Ice Pick.

The clack of the chart being set down rings through the room, bouncing off the walls and sounding so fucking final that he starts to panic.

Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.

She’s already halfway to the door when she asks, “Do you have any questions?”

The word vomit spring from him, unbidden and sudden without any thought, more forward than he’s been with a woman in years.

“Can I have your number?”

As soon as the question leaves his lips, he curses, cringes and wishes he could snatch the very words from the air itself.

Great, I just hit on my vet.

No amount of backpedaling can salvage this but goddamn it if Bucky doesn’t try, stuttering out some half-assed excuse about wanting it just in case he thinks of something later.

When he glances up, he wishes he hadn’t. The vet tech is in near tears in the corner, biting her lips so hard he wouldn’t be surprised if they started to bleed.

But it’s the absolute surprised bafflement on the woman he just inappropriately hit on that does him in, makes him about ready to burn all forms of identification and run for the hills.

Her brows nearly reach her hairline, her mouth slack, eyes startled. She gets ahold of herself before he does, and he barely stops himself from slapping a hand over his face.

Right when he’s thinking there’s no way he’s going to be able to show his face in the office again, her expression softens with gentle amusement and her lips twitch.

Struck dumb, he can only watch as she writes something down on a slip of paper before handing it over to him. He barely believes the string of numbers and the cheeky little call me anytime :).

The wink she sends his way is there and gone, so fast he almost believes he imagined it.

“For emergencies only,” she says, slyly. “Of course.”

“Of course,” he agrees, almost tripping over the cat carrier as he hurries to stuff Alpine back in. “Of course, thank you. I...appreciate it.”

“Anytime, Mr. Barnes.”

Bucky leaves the room in a stupor, the world sharply shifted to the left as he heads to the front desk to make the follow-up appointment, but not before hearing the whispered, “Girl, you’re lucky. He’s fine!” and the “He is, isn’t he?”.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader #bucky x you

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barnesandco · 3 years

Text

Little Hands (V)

Series Masterlist

Bucky treats you to a day out.

This is an entry for @star-spangled-bingo 2021. Word count: 1625. Square filled: “Lucky (Clint’s dog)”

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Police. Sad child.

A/N: This is so late and I am so sorry. Let me know what you think! And massive thank you’s to anyone who is still reading this disaster.

Morning brings a new perspective, a new ease in the way Bucky moves around Ana. He pretends he doesn’t know that you witnessed the way they bonded last night, and for that benefit you don’t bring it up. It’s discussed and laid to rest with the intelligent smile you give him, one that he lets dissolve through his sternum and curl around his heart. Tendrils of soft hope, wisps of quiet connection, strengthening the friendship you’ve established and glinting with promise of something more.

Something more might have to wait, but Bucky thinks you’ve made it clear that it is there, on the horizon, awaiting you both. A future, one that, on his part, also involves the little soul that sits on top of the kitchen island, swinging her legs into the cabinets. Children are early risers, and so are superheroes, but today, on this cool morning, Anastasia has them beat.

So, it’s just the three of you. Bucky, and Anastasia, and you. You’re cutting up fruit and washing berries for the pancakes he’s making while you also remotely monitor the tea. A minty brew, warm, topped with honey and lemon, sharp enough to wake lingering drowsiness while still soothing, syrup-soft. You know your stuff, and Bucky’s glad to have a change of pace after a fast week of too much too strong too sweet coffee, even if he chooses to have it that way.

This particular change of pace would give him whiplash if not for the fact that he got a good night’s sleep, Anastasia’s nightmares notwithstanding. It has strengthened his resolve to find her a child psychologist, somebody who can help her better than he can, once this ordeal with Tobias Zola is over and they are all safe.

He needs to keep her safe. It was her mother’s – no, her final caretaker’s – last wish and request, and now that they are tied by blood, it has become his. She really looks so much like him. Her hair hasn’t developed the same brown yet, it’s still a shade lighter, with hints of golden for the lesser age, the summer sun bleaching that has yet to pass. It’s curly like his never was, likely an affectation of whatever female contribution is in her genetics.

Her genetics. Bucky shakes his head at the frying pan. He doesn’t want to sound like one of the scientists that put her into this situation, into this cruel, cruel world.

A clearing of your throat breaks him out of the thought bubble, and he flips the last pancake out of the pan and onto a plate, much to Anastasia’s delight. The ensuing giggle is the closest thing he’s heard to laughter from the kid. That’s not good. Children need laughter. He makes himself, and Ana, a silent promise to be more uplifting.

“Do you think we could leave the Compound, today?” You ask, out of nowhere, as you place the assorted fruit on the table. Ana, whose hands is halfway to the strawberries, stops as she waits on Bucky’s answer. Clearly, this is something she wants, too. Who is he to deny them?

“Sure. Fury might want us to take some security measures, but we should be fine.”

-----

That’s how they wind up at an ice cream parlor by 10 am, after the security has been cleared with Fury and Sam, and the only addition to their little team is Lucky, a dog apparently shared by Clint and his protégé in the city, one Kate Bishop. They’ve been told that while not a trained security dog, Lucky has sensors that will let Kate know if they’re in danger, and she can provide and send further backup. The rest of the Avengers are busy with tracking down leads to Zola.

Bucky knows he can protect you and Ana just fine, should need be, and isn’t worried about the fact that the only bodyguard they’ve been provided with is canine. Ana has bonded with the dog and walks with one hand in the fur by its shoulder and the other in his own hand, her eyes flitting between the sights of the city and her companions. Her caretakers. Her guardians.

The ice cream place is a little business that another one of Steve’s children is working at on weekends. is a head shorter than Bucky, and terrifies the living wits out of him. She’s one hell of a people watcher, she has a sweet tooth and a thing for Jane Austen, and the world is lucky her foremost interest is in dessert making and not something far more nefarious, like say, espionage.

She greets Bucky at the door with a hug and shakes both your and Ana’s hands, and lets you all sit outside so you can be with Lucky. The rusty fall sun makes Lucky’s fur shine like spun gold and light Ana up in hues of ruby and topaz, and you turn your face to the light and sigh.

For a moment, the world is quiet. For a moment, the scent of sugar crystallizes on his face like the sensation of rightness does. And when it ends, it’s not with a crash landing. It’s a gentle reorientation. You open your eyes, look at him with immeasurable affection. Ana pets Lucky. Vivien says, “Let me know when you’re ready to order, Uncle Bucky,” and puts a menu on the table.

You decide on a mango ice cream shake, Bucky wants an Oreo sundae, and Ana, of course, demands the largest dish on the menu, the one whose picture is emblazoned across a good quarter of the laminated card. A massive ice cream and berry split.

When your order arrives, Anastasia laughs for the second time. Bucky thinks he should say something, make a joke, conversation, but in this moment, nothing else could feel so forced. He’s a man of few words and many services. That’s how he chooses to love, and Ana can see that. You can see that.

It's why you nod affirmingly when he meets your eyes over Ana’s mountain of ice cream. You carry entire sentences in your glances, words of silent confidence, the fuel he is feeding on right now.

-----

Ana is happy. The world, if for a few hours, is right. He knows it cannot last, even now, walking back to the car after a morning and afternoon of joy, arms laden down with bags of new things, treats he never had but can now provide. Despite the resignation that has started to weigh on him, he reminds himself: his daughter has a home. She will be safe, and he will take care of her, no matter what it takes.

-----

The car ride back is louder than he anticipated. You give the music a go, playing something by Raveena, a sweet voice he likes but that Ana talks over, making quite the chaotic symphony that he likes even more. Lucky contributes the occasional bright bark that makes Ana laugh, pausing her incessant chatter, if momentarily.

Mostly, she talks about what she saw, the things she has now started to process, asks questions about the stores she did not previously have the luxury to, presumably because her previous guardian didn’t have the means, and besides, they were on the run.

He’s grateful to her. Irene. Before he was confused but now it is obvious: Ana is his daughter, and he wants her as much as any other parent does their child, even if the way she was thrown into her life was unconventional, to say the least.

Looking at her in the rearview mirror as she twists in her seat to reach Lucky in the back, he knows he will move heaven and earth to remove the threats in her path. It makes him dangerous. It makes him a father.

“You okay?” You ask, following his gaze, and Bucky smiles, eyes returning to the road.

“Never better.”

Your hand finds his where it takes a break from the steering wheel to rest on his knee. He twists your joined hands until he can hold yours. Squeezes it, as if to say, thank you. As if to say, we’ll all be okay.

-----

Turns out, he’s wrong, and this is why you should never rely on routines. Promises are made to be broken. When they get back, the NYPD is waiting, and not to update them on the case. He sees the waiting handcuffs, and he knows you do, too.

You make the right move, trying to usher Ana out of the room with some excuse or other, but it’s too late. Her instincts have latched onto the fact that something is very, very wrong.

The DA says, “James Buchanan Barnes, you’re under arrest as a suspect in the murder of Irene Orlov,” and Ana screams, and screams, and screams.

Bucky tries not to close his eyes, knows it’s too late to put his hands over his ears as cuffs close around his wrists. Besides, he needs to show that he understands the charges, and yes, they’re reading him his Miranda rights, and yes, he understands.

He’s innocent. And his team will prove it. But it’s no use arguing with these people, so he goes silently, even as he hears Sam, Steve and Nat going at it with the police chief in the dull background of Ana’s roar. It’s no use. The police wouldn’t be here without reason, and they’ll let him go when his team finds them reason to.

Everything is going to be okay, he tells himself. It has to. Because he doesn’t know what he’ll do if it isn’t.

Bucky sees you, tear-sodden and holding onto a distraught Ana, in the reflection of the glass doors before they slide open.

#SSB2021 #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes angst #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #marvel #mcu #marvel fanfic #mcu fanfic #avengers #avengers fanfiction

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moonbaby26 · 3 years

Text

Title: The Past

Pairing: Peter Maximoff x Reader, and past references to Peter x Crystal (from The Inhumans).

Summary: Continuation from previous chapter. Set after the battle with Apocalypse, you and the others are still biding your time while waiting to get back home. After touching base with Xavier to see where everything stands, you get to spend some more alone time with Peter and learn more about his fears and his past.

Notes: Please don’t @ me Inhumans fans! 🥺 I have zero problem with Crystal. And for those that don’t follow the comics, Crystal and comics!Quicksilver were once married, even having a daughter together named Luna. But the two weren’t compatible, and things went sour. Crystal cheated on him (Pietro was shitty to her too) and their marriage was eventually annulled. She remarried later, but he never did.

Warnings: Some cursing, a bit more necking. Talk of past unhealthy relationships, mention of sex.

Chapters: Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Taglist: @drikawinchester , @n0obmaster69 , @alexloveskili , @what-a-silver-lining , @bluesprings18 , @weakmoony-stuff , @slytherinsi-mp , @wintwrsoldiwr , @tommy-braccoli , @amourtentiaa , @cringingmemeries , @bi-panicatthe-disco , @himbos-are-my-lifeblood , @simp4mcuwomen

Peter Maximoff x Reader Masterlist

—————————

“Charles!” You heard Hank’s relieved surprise from somewhere nearby, yourself immediately trying to get back out of the bunk at the commotion.

Peter had no choice but to let go of you then, albeit still somewhat reluctantly before he sat up himself, grabbing his crutches off the floor to follow you.

“Well it’s about time. We were starting to wonder if we needed to mount another rescue,” Raven chimed in, one hand on her hip as she looked Xavier over. “Rough night?”

You could see the Professor then, seated tiredly in the wheelchair they’d given him with the rest of the group now standing around as you joined them.

“It was quite a strenuous night, yes,” Xavier responded, evidently having just come into the barracks as the door still hung open behind him.

Peter chuckled oddly beside you at the Professor’s choice of words. Though not all that loud to really have been intended for the group.

You wouldn’t have thought much of it, except for the funny look that came over Xavier’s face as he chided him instantly. “Peter, that is entirely inappropriate.”

But the others, save maybe Jean, looked just as confused as you at the seemingly random exchange, before Xavier kept on.

“Yes, Peter...Moira did accompany me all night. We had a lot to catch up on, even after the officials were done with their lengthy interrogations. But she and I talked. Please do keep your mind from the gutter. The strenuous activity I was referring to was the constant mental blocking and redirecting I imposed to those doing the questioning as to spare you all from being put in a poor light, or even remembered too well as significant players in this at all to keep you out of their future investigations.”

For his own part though, Peter didn’t look too embarrassed, or put off any really from the abrupt admonishment. Even as the Professor had just given details on the lengths he’d gone through to protect everyone, Peter only smiled, raising both hands as if to feign innocence, the crutches propped under his arms. “Hey now. No judgement here, Prof. And I didn’t say it out loud, right?”

“You didn’t have to.” Xavier sighed. “When something strikes you as funny, especially something sophomoric, you transmit it like a beacon.”

Peter looked both curious and amused at that new concept, but said nothing more.

A sly look was starting to glean behind Raven’s eyes though before she interceded instead. “You know, I don’t think I fully believe you, Charles.”

“Pardon?” There was a little surprise as Xavier glanced up to her.

But she just tilted her head, smirking slightly. “For as much crap as you always gave me about staying ‘professional’ with teammates back in the day, you think I’d just offer no comment now? Don’t lie to them. You didn’t only talk. Knowing your past with her, I’m sure of it actually.”

Peter just whistled then as Hank stared in helpless silence.

“Raven...” The Professor warned, but already knowing it was likely futile. “Is this really the time?”

“These might be your new X-Men, Charles.” She motioned to you all. “After all they’ve been through in the last 48 hours, I promise you they aren’t just kids anymore. Just like we weren’t.” She glanced to Hank briefly, then back to the Professor. “Don’t make them think we all walked around like robots back then, or that we would now. I always hated when you did that.”

Xavier closed his eyes a moment, taking a breath before looking back to everyone. “Admittedly, there has been much self sacrifice recently, and I am extremely proud of you all for how you rose up to help defend one another when everything was at stake. And there is nothing shameful in forming more personal bonds, of course. Raven is correct in that regard, though her delivery and sense of timing may leave something to be desired.”

Raven still shook her head. “You use so many words to still say nothing sometimes.”

“Hank, feel free to speak up any time now really.” Xavier deadpanned.

“Um, well...” Hank stammered a bit. “Did they say anything about when we might get to leave?”

The awkwardness was lessened somewhat at that as you all perked up at the question, equally ready to move on from this ship.

“Yes in fact, thank you, Hank.” The Professor was visibly relieved to get back to a more practical subject. “We will sleep here again tonight, but tomorrow they’re taking us to Kasteli airport on the island. It’s just a single runway, but large enough for the government flight they’re chartering to come here. It will be making multiple stops to pickup as many stranded U.S. targets as possible in the European region before crossing the Atlantic to deliver us to McGuire Air Force base in New Jersey.”

“Really...Jersey?” Peter commented flippantly. “Better than nothing I guess.”

But Xavier just ignored the interruption this time, “Moira’s contacts will furnish us all with I.D.’s and passports to get back into the country. For those of us that already had one, but may have lost it in all the recent events, it will be a reprint from previous government record. For those that never had one, they will create them for you.” He looked to Ororo and Kurt particularly there.

“What about the school?” Scott asked, “And all the other students? Are they okay?”

It was true that after you’d all been taken by Stryker and his men, you couldn’t know what had happened to anyone else after. Where they’d gone now with no place to stay, and if they’d remained safe with Magneto’s previous lashing out on the world.

The Professor nodded, clearly approving of that concern. “It was very difficult to get in contact with anyone directly. But again, Moira pressured her agency for assistance there. I’m told they were finally able to reach some of the staff who had taken the students to nearby hotels while trying to inform their families of their whereabouts. The explosion has been officially deemed due to a ‘gas leak’ however.”

He looked to Scott directly then though before continuing solemnly. “Of course for your family, Scott, an agent went personally to inform them of the truth. I’m so sorry. I know there hasn’t been any time to mourn Alex yet. His sacrifice will not be forgotten. He was only trying to protect me. We will have a proper ceremony for him as soon as we are able.”

You saw Jean take a hold of Scott’s hand as he only nodded rather than reply, seemingly unwilling to talk much more on that subject right now.

Xavier understood, keeping on. “As for the school itself, it will take time to rebuild of course. For those that do have safe homes to return to with family, that will have to be where they stay for now.” Yet the look in his eyes said how surely he knew that that would not be the case for many. A very common thread in so many of your histories was rejection by your own families.

“And for those who do not have anywhere else safe to go, I’m going to see what we can rent or lease in the interim once we’re back in the states. Hopefully something a bit more comfortable than the local motels.”

“And Stryker?” Raven interjected again, a little coldness to her voice though. “Did you call your ‘interviewers’ out on that bullshit?”

The Professor ruffled slightly at the language, but did not argue with it. “They claimed ignorance on those operations entirely. Looking into their minds, they did believe those facilities existed, but it was completely above their security clearance to know anything of what went on inside them. I think Stryker had partnered more with a private firm to be honest.”

Hank sighed. “Wonderful, more secret organizations bent on using us for experimentation and weaponry.”

Xavier agreed. “Yes, that will remain an ongoing threat I’m afraid. But all the more reason for us to keep training the youth. We will not be helpless in this world as long as we continue to grow our strengths together, and protect one another.”

Raven raised her eyebrows at those words. “Hmm. That almost sounds like the need for some kind of team again, doesn’t it, Charles? Fighters instead of pacifists? Maybe you should actually listen to the things I say for once.”

He didn’t rise to her baiting though, only starting to back his chair away then. “In due time, Raven. We shall see where this all ends up. But as for the present, now that everyone is caught up on what we know, I believe several of you were wishing for some time above deck.”

“That is an understatement,” Ororo answered, looking surprisingly uncomfortable the more you actually looked at her then. “The longer we’ve been here the more it feels like a tomb.” She added.

“She has claustrophobia.” Jean replied only in your mind, likely seeing the puzzlement on your face. “But she’s been hiding it well.”

You felt a bit guilty for not having noticed regardless, immediately glad for Jean sharing so that you could end that obliviousness. That was just the basics of being friends, knowing what the others were going through, to be of help whenever you could.

“Yes, absolutely!” You spoke up too. “Will they let us walk around a while up there?” The whole Mediterranean was outside, the sky and the water. And anything would be better than this endless grey metal, bulkheads, and compartments all in artificial lighting.

“I don’t know that I’m going to give them much choice,” Xavier smiled, fully exiting back out of the doorway then. “Come along all of you. We’ll see what we can do.”

—————————

You were certain that the Professor had indeed used a good bit of mental persuasion to grant you all full access to the flight deck. But as no planes were taking off, landing, or anything at all really, it was fairly safe to wander as you pleased right now.

Scott had wanted to get a closer look at some of those jets regardless though. Himself, Jean, Kurt, and Ororo going over to check out those that were still parked near the center of the deck.

Raven and Hank had wandered off somewhere near the bow, while Moira had reappeared and you’d seen her sit down in the shade under the ship’s bridge tower with Xavier. You could see them still talking as you and Peter had walked off towards the stern.

The air did feel as good as you’d hoped. It was cool, with that distinct smell of salt, dancing both you and Peter’s hair around lightly in the breeze.

But you wished you could really be at the water’s edge, to touch it, or even swim in it. It’d been such a long time since you’d gotten to be at the ocean.

It made you wonder too though where Peter had spent his time as a child. Had his family travelled to the beach much during his summers growing up?

“So you lived near Washington D.C.?” You asked, looking upward though as you now walked under a fighter jet’s wing, many more left waiting here at the aft of the ship. You remembered his words to Magneto, about the Pentagon being so close to their home at some point. Even if Peter had never known his father had been imprisoned there all along.

“Still do.” Peter answered, reaching out to grab your hand before you walked back out of the shade from under the jet. “Want to sit down?”

You glanced back at him, already wondering if he was being purposeful in this location or not. You were now as far from the others as could be after all. And even from the bridge, the sailors wouldn’t be able to see you now beneath this jet.

He smirked, maybe knowingly even as he responded crassly. “What? These things are killing my armpits.”

You smiled, still wondering, but helped him sit down anyway as you set the crutches beside you before joining him.

“So you still live by the Capitol....” You continued, gently prodding to try and hear more about him.

“Yeah,” He snaked one arm around your waist. “Suburbs just outside of D.C. Still in my Mom’s basement, same as always.”

You did recall him joking about that on the ride to Egypt, about still living with his mother. But what kind of woman was she though? Bold enough to flee from Magneto to a whole new country to raise her children at least. “Is she...” You weren’t quite sure the polite way to ask. Or actually if you even should, but it was already out of your mouth, so you continued hesitantly. “Is she like us?”

“Nah. She’s not a mutant.” He responded easily. “But my sister is.”

You looked back to him at that. He hadn’t told you much about Wanda yet, besides the fact that they were twins and that maybe she’d had some struggles with depression. Which was so common for your kind as well as you tried to learn to accept yourselves and the world’s sometimes cruel view of you.

The reminder of him being a twin was of course fuel for your imagination too as you tried to picture what any twin sister of Peter’s could really be like.

But he was getting surprisingly good at reading your expressions it seemed as he just laughed. “No, Wanda’s not just a female version of me if that’s what you’re thinking. I doubt the world could handle that, right?”

“Probably not.” You admitted. Trying not to get distracted with the mental image of a much more feminine Peter zipping around.

When you felt him tug you closer to him, you came back to attention. His fingertips were messing with one pocket of your pants idly now.

“She’s way smarter. More powerful for sure.” He then continued after a moment, with a little more consideration. “A little scary too actually. A lot more like our Dad I guess.”

“More powerful than you?” You asked honestly. Of course his powers might not be as in your face as something like Scott’s eye beams, or Ororo’s lightning bolts and their destructive power. But he’d already impressed you, no question.

“Well yeah. I’m just a jerk that runs fast.” He replied, looking a little surprised by your sincere look. “You think that’s powerful?”

“Peter, you can practically stop time on a whim. That’s way more than just running fast.” And that was no exaggeration to you. There was no other way to explain how he’d cleared the whole mansion even faster than the explosion could take it.

“I mean it’s saved my ass a few times yeah.” He conceded. “But...” He quieted, still watching you.

That serious look had come into his eyes again, like a cloud crossing over the light. He wanted to say something more and couldn’t.

“What?” You finally asked gently. It was just the two of you now. “You can say whatever you want, Peter.”

It was so evident that he wasn’t yet used to the freedom of expression that many of the rest of you were. He hadn’t had those years worth of safety net within the school, getting to air your thoughts with one another as almost second nature after so long.

He took a breath before eventually trying though. “Well...when I first started figuring out what I could do, it was such a rush, definitely. I could skip class whenever, take anything I knew Mom couldn’t or wouldn’t buy me. The dickheads that used to try to push me around couldn’t even touch me anymore.”

Yet he shifted, some unease still building in him even as you just listened quietly. “But, eventually you realize the people who barely gave you any notice before, that then they can’t even see you at all any longer.”

He was looking in your eyes again, as if he was still waiting to see some judgement there, but he’d already said too much to stop now. He couldn’t reel it back in, even if he may have wanted to. “And when I got older, I finally started having these nightmares...that everything got stuck like that you know. More and more, that I was going to do it too long one day, too many times one day and everything was going to finally stick that way for good. That no one would ever hear or see me again. Like this super shitty purgatory, of frozen people all around, and you’re just some ghost moving through them.”

You were surprised at first, yes. But maybe not so much the more you really considered it. What he spoke of was a horrible fate to consider to be sure. But for someone you already knew could actually be very self conscious at his core, there was even another layer to it. Was it really that much of a stretch that he could also worry about feeling even more unseen? More invisible, to the point that that could be his life forever?

The flashy jackets and clothing tied in a bit more now to that overall profile you were putting together here. But it meant so much to you that he was willing to share this at all, when it clearly was something very deep for him.

“I still dream that sometimes.” He admitted. “Freaking sucks.” He raised his bare left wrist then, looking at it with some regret. “It’s normally why I always wear a watch too. If nobody’s around for me to judge what speed I’m moving at, I have to look at the second hand to make sure it’s still trying to move. Freaks me the hell out if I can’t check it.”

You knew he’d left all his other things in the jet when everyone had changed into those flight suits before heading to Egypt. And all that was gone now. “You are powerful.” You insisted softly though. “And I don’t think I’ve ever met one of us yet that didn’t fear losing control, of becoming a victim to our own abilities in the end...”

Without thinking you turned then, getting up on your knees so you could wrap your arms around him. You felt him tense only for a moment, surprised but then quickly accepting the tight hug for what it was as he relaxed into it.

You spoke into his ear as he slid his arms back around you in return. “You don’t have to hold any of these things in any longer either though. You’re with friends now.”

But when your grip eventually loosened, he just pulled you around so that you were then seated nearly in his lap before he hugged you around your waist again.

“But for how long?” He asked seriously. “You and the others will go back to New York won’t you once we’re back in the U.S.? And I’ll have to go back to D.C. to show Mom I’m not dead, I’m sure she’s tripping out right now.”

“Well...” You understood he’d certainly have to go home for at least a while. But the school would be rebuilt eventually. “Have you thought about, once the school is established again I mean, maybe joining us?”

That did get a slight chuckle from him. “I’m already a dropout, babe. I never even finished high school. Not really a good candidate for higher learning.”

But you weren’t so easily dissuaded. “It’s more than just math and science classes, Peter. The younger kids always need mentors. And there’s the chance of working with the Professor and the other staff too, learning to unlock your full potential. You don’t have to hold back there, or hide anymore.”

He caught you by the bottom of your chin then though, tilting your head back as he seemed to consider kissing you again. “You want me to come there then?”

“Yes.” You agreed, the word at least sounding confident despite your heart rate increasing again.

“And are we going to share a bunk again tonight?” He smirked, knowing full well he was now derailing a previously serious conversation.

“I guess that depends on you.” You tried to counter, but he really had too unfair of an advantage in how easily he could still fluster you. And you weren’t sure when that was ever going to fade.

You waited for him to continue the banter though. To do anything really. But for several long moments he only watched you instead.

“Well?” He finally said.

“Well what?” You answered.

“You want to make out under this fighter jet before they call off mutant recess? The bell’s probably going to ring soon to send us all back to being out of sight, out of mind on the U.S.S buzzkill.”

Sometimes you wondered if he was actually the older of you two at all. “Don’t enjoy your own jokes too much now. You know what Xavier said about you transmitting your thoughts.” You were at least able to taunt back a little.

“Ah, he’s all about that CIA chick right now. I mean, more power to him, nothing wrong with it. She seemed pretty badass. But he should have just taken the compliment earlier instead of trying to drag me about it. But not bad for an old dude you know? Especially now that he looks a little more like Mr. Clean.”

“Peter.” The Professor wasn’t even that old, but it was by and large beside the point. “You’re trying to make me kiss you again so that you’ll stop talking aren’t you?”

“Maybe.” He grinned. “But hey, I never thought I’d get this far, I’m going to enjoy this every chance we get.”

The newness hadn’t worn off at all, that much was true. But wouldn’t it eventually? And would he still think so much of you then? You couldn’t know the answer to that.

It was probably best to actually agree with his viewpoint for the time being. To just appreciate the chances given in the here and now. None of you could know what the future had in store for anyone or anything, not anymore.

You were already right in front of him as you ran your fingers along the back of his neck. You held him there briefly, then pulling him in to initiate the first kiss, before he met you eagerly with another.

One of your hands stayed in his hair, the other splayed down onto his chest. After a moment, you realized you could feel his own heartbeat through the thin t-shirt. So very fast, like everything else about him before you felt him grabbing at your hips.

He was trying to get you pulled more into his lap as he shifted his legs to make room. You let him, but there was something slightly funny as you still had to help to not knock into his broken leg when he had trouble moving it in the way he really wanted.

But he could feel your smile against his lips. He pulled back enough to respond, your foreheads touching. “You just wait until that damn thing is off. I’ll be ten times as suave then.”

“I’m not complaining.” You laughed softly. Maybe even a little glad that he did have that handicap to slow him down right now. Though you quieted again when you felt him move down to nip at your neck, before he kissed it a little more roughly.

When you tensed a little, he paused. You could hear the tease in his voice. “Don’t worry, I won’t leave any hickies. Scout’s honor.” He knew you still cared about appearances to some degree, that and the privacy to not show off all of what you’d done in front of the others. “But you ever had one?” He asked anyway.

“No.” You answered without hesitation. You didn’t feel any need to pretend with him.

He pulled back a little again at that though, enough that you could look at each other and you wondered if he was finding this hard to believe.

“But you’ve had boyfriends right?” He asked, before considering a little more. “Or maybe girlfriends? I mean, I’m cool with either just for the record. We get discriminated on enough as it is to bother being worried about what side of the fence anybody is playing on.” He smiled, rubbing his hand down your side. “If I’m going to like someone, I’m going to like them for them. Everything else is just bonus.”

You’d never really thought about it to be honest. If you were attracted to someone, you just were. But it sounded like he was of similar thinking, which was nice. “I haven’t really had anybody.” You answered. “I’ve been at the school since I was pretty young. And you just end up seeing them all as family I guess.”

His eyebrows raised and he hesitated a while, before finally speaking again a little bit carefully. “So...please don’t punch me, but um, does that mean you haven’t...you know?” He didn’t seem like he could say it. Or that maybe he was actually afraid of offending you all of the sudden. Which would be a first.

But just because you were inexperienced, that didn’t mean you were naive. And it was awkward, but not frightening. You weren’t afraid to talk to him this way. “I haven’t had sex, no.” You responded plainly, but did have a little concern on him possibly panicking as you made sure to clarify. “And I’m not a minor. This would have been my senior year and then some I guess if you compare our class levels to normal high school grades.” But Xavier’s school was still a little different. “Or maybe it’d be more like freshman year of college.”

Peter took a breath. “I mean, yeah I figured you were legal. Good to confirm, but um, you realize this means you have no idea if you should have waited for someone better or not?”

He was getting self conscious again. You’d already been through this before. Where he acted as if you were making a mistake just to choose him. You tried to turn this back around. “It doesn’t matter to me who you’ve already been with. And yes, I might be inexperienced, but you’ve got to trust me that I’m capable of choosing who I want now.”

You could still sense him wavering, but he at least didn’t lock up to the point of not answering. He was trying to fall back on a little humor, his go to. “Well it’s not like I’ve been all around either. It was really just one, but you know, a good bit of practice there.” Though as soon as he said it that way, he seemed to regret it, trying to explain further. “I mean, she didn’t give two shits about me in the end. I thought she did. But I didn’t use her, it was more the other way around. At least in my view.”

You quieted, that new spill of information you felt signaling a much deeper story under the surface. And he seemed really nervous as if he hadn’t intended to bring up this subject at all. “It’s okay.” You answered quickly. “Like I said, the past is the past. It doesn’t affect what I feel about you. But if you want to get something else off your chest right now, my time is yours.”

And he did want to talk. You could tell he did. Like this was something he never could speak of normally. He seemed surprised at his own self as the name finally did come out. “Her name was Crystal.” But he still tightened his grip on you even as he kept on. “Back when I was still in high school outside D.C., she’d started there. Her family was always moving, I don’t know why. But I guess because she was new she didn’t know the whole hierarchy shit, where I was on the bottom with the other weirdos always in detention. And she figured out I had powers, she did too. I’d never met anyone my age that did. We started hanging out, and before you know it I’d be speeding to her house and all at night. My Mom never knew. Wanda did, but I think she saw the fuck up coming and decided to let me figure it out for myself.”

You felt no jealousy to the confession. Genuinely you were only listening, knowing these details only gave you a more complete picture of him. Who he was now and why.

“I’d never gotten attention like that before you know? You start thinking it’s real and you get carried away. And I’m not saying she was manipulative or any stupid crap like that. She wasn’t. She just wanted to fool around with somebody, wanted to feel good. But it probably shouldn’t have been with me is what I mean. Not for that long anyway just to cut me off at the knees when she was ready to move on again.”

So she’d just wanted a physical relationship. While Peter had misunderstood it to be more, and had had to suffer for it when the truth finally showed. You could understand how that would be extremely painful. Especially if it was the first real intimacy he’d ever had.

He kept on though, likely something very cathartic in finally getting to let go of all this. “And we had a huge blow up in the end. When she’d started sleeping with someone else. I probably said some stuff I shouldn’t have, I mean she was never mine to be mad about I guess. But she was no pushover. She told me to fuck right off, and I never went back. I quit going to school and they moved away again eventually. So that was the end of that.”

Then that was likely the real reason he never finished school you realized, not just because of boredom with it or any lack of ability on his own part. It was sad, but you didn’t see him as anyone to be pitied. He’d survived that negative experience to still be here with you now.

And you couldn’t take those old scars away, but you could at least make sure you didn’t leave any room for miscommunication now. You could let him know exactly what he had in you, to take or leave as he wished. Because nothing could work here either unless you both were on the same page.

“Well I can tell you that you will never just be a hookup for me. I mean, yes, I might not be as satisfying I guess, not knowing all about this. But, I’m attracted to you. Not your body, not your powers, just you. I want to be together until you decide otherwise.” You smiled, calling back a bit to his words in Egypt. “Together exclusively until I annoy you or you get bored of me.”

He laughed, unable to help himself. “And I still don’t deserve it.” He insisted, but agreed anyway. “Exclusive is good, no other guys or girls. Just us annoying the hell out of each other until the end.” He then nuzzled his head back against your neck, continuing. “I’ll be slightly more behaved too I guess. Now that I know it’ll be your first time, it can’t just be in an aircraft carrier broom closet or some crap after all. I’ll try to think of something a little more romantic in the meantime.”

“Gee thanks.” You smirked, before kissing him lightly again. There was still oh so much trouble to look forward to it sounded like.

He leaned into the kiss, trying to taste you as much as you’d let him. But you thought you could still feel him smiling a little too, before another sound went off in your brains.

“All of you, they’re asking us to clear the flight deck as they have a pair of helicopters trying to come back in from patrol.” The Professor’s voice was a bit impersonal, the way it could be when he was essentially copying the same message to multiple minds one after the other.

“And that would be the bell,” Peter sighed. “Recess over.”

You were a little disappointed too, but there was still tonight after all. “There’s still the bunk later,” You reminded at that, standing up and offering him your hand.

He grabbed it, quickly pulling himself up before leaning in to kiss you one more time. “That a promise?”

“Maybe.” You answered, handing him his crutches.

“Tease.” He countered with a smirk, before you both started walking back towards the others.

It’d be one more night in close quarters, and then on to the long trip home tomorrow.

——————————

(Continued in next chapter here)

#quicksilver x oc #quicksilver x y/n #quicksilver x you #quicksilver x reader #quicksilver #peter maximoff x oc #peter maximoff x you #peter maximoff x y/n #peter maximoff x reader #peter maximoff #x men #xmen #xmen fanfiction #xmen fic

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marigoldwitch · 3 years

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Let’s Talk About Elitism in the Witchcraft Community

It always seems to come back to this but I want to talk about witches in the community who give confusing, and often times misguided, advice to new comers in an attempt to separate themselves from the “soft” or “baby” practitioners.

I’m on witchtok (a community on an app called TikTok, in case you were unaware of what I’m talking about) alot and there’s something I noticed about the witches there; something I’m sure alot of you have noticed too. There’s 2 major groups of witches on the app. The ones who post “easy” and “simple” spells and information, and the ones who post up reactionary spells and information.

There seems to be this need for witches who feel better than or more educated (in their opinion) to posts videos in response to or in direct opposition of other witches. Usually these other witches are seen as newbies to the craft. And if they aren’t new (as in they’ve been practicing for a while) they’re considered uneducated or unwilling to learn.

The “why aren’t witches reading books anymore?” and “I think it’s them being more worried about aesthetics than actually learning.” comments are frustrating and reveals a huge disconnect and sense of privilege within our community. I’ve also seen comments / videos specifically criticizing the popularity of spell jars in recent years. The funniest thing though is that a lot of them are suggesting doing charm bags instead... as if that’s not just another form of a spell jar.. except it’s in a bag... not a jar :/ They want so badly to be “other” and “better” that they’re actually giving advice that’s basically saying “hey instead of using X container to hold your spell, have you tried using Y container instead?? If you read books and not just get your info from Tik Tok blah blah blah.” As if they’ve suggested something grand or much different than what someone is already doing.

Let’s Talk Privilege

First lets be clear that privilege doesn’t mean you haven’t had “hard times” in your life. And being privileged in one way doesn’t make you privilege in every aspect. You can have class privilege while also experiencing hardship in relation to another aspect of your life. I am white, I have white privilege. I’m also a poor high school drop out. Which means I don’t have class privilege. It’s important that I make this clear because I know some people are gonna identify in someway with one or more of the under privileged groups that I’ll be talking about and that’s normal. That doesn’t mean that you can’t also identify in someway with one or more of the privileged groups that I’ll be talking about.

Why don’t you just read more books? / Why don’t you just experiment with more tools, supplies and options like crystals, candles, herbs, tarot etc? / Why don’t you just invest in better tools and supplies?

This falls under class privilege. Not everyone can afford to spend money on these things. “Well the library is free” not everyone can afford to spend time on these things. And I know, to someone who has the money and has the time, these sound like excuses to just not work “hard enough” (which we’ll get into why this statement is ablest in a minute) but it’s legit the reality for a lot of people. Let’s also remember that public libraries in underfunded poorer communities are.. well under funded and don’t offer the same selection that a well funded library would. Also the cost of going to and from that library (or a much better one with a better selection). Personally, I live in what is known as the bible belt and my local (underfunded) library has 5 books on witchcraft. 3 are reference books and can not actually be checked out. The other 2 require a 10 dollar deposit to check out. I kid you not. You have to pay to check out those books.

I saw a comment that said “crystal grids and crystal magic is very beginner friendly and easy, why don’t more witches do this?” And I want to shake them and scream “crystals cost money you doodoo head!!” LOL.

Supplies and tools are expensive. Yes, there’s plenty of information online about how to use what you have on hand... and those same witches sharing cheap and easy alternatives to supplies and tools are also sharing cheap and easy alternatives to spells and rituals. Hence how spell jars became so popular.

“They just don’t want to put in the effort” / “They aren’t working hard enough” / “They’re just in it for the aesthetics”

This falls under ableism. 1. Expecting other witches to match your energy and effort is hella ablest and you should stop. Not only is it unrealistic to assume we’re all on the same page, it’s unhealthy to project your own expectations on to {most likely} complete strangers just because you share one interest [witchcraft] with them. 2. Some people are visual practitioners (whether they’re ND or not) and so they need to and work better with seeing what they’re doing. It’s obvious that the type of witchcraft lots of ND people use is the type that is overly criticized in our community. (ND = Neurodivergent)

Physical disability is also something to keep in mind. Not everyone is physical able to do all the things you can do. Personally I experience hand tremors. Basically using an herb bundle to do a smoke cleansing is a huge ass mess for me and is more headache than it’s worth. So I opt out of smoking cleansing that way. It doesn’t mean that I’m not trying hard enough or that I’m not putting in the effort to make it work... it means I have a disability that makes it more difficult and I’ve found other ways to do these cleanses.

Also, witches are allowed to like pretty things. Like pretty things and valuing the beauty in your practice is all perfectly fine. There’s nothing wrong with wanting your space, yourself or your practice to look “pretty.”

I Need To Mention Cultural Awareness

Another reason something might not make sense to you is because it isn’t for you, literally it has nothing to do with you or your practice and so you’ve chosen to put it down rather than mind your business. That’s really all I can say about this as I practice a fairly common form of folk magic and the practice, as well as the culture in which it’s derived from is open. So there’s nothing I do that’s really considered for specific cultures only. I’d rather someone else with more experience talk about this in more detail.

Misguided Information and Superiority Complex

When sharing information and experiences it’s probably better to do so without needing it to be in reaction to someone else’s information and experiences. I don’t think there is anything wrong with sharing other forms of magic or witchcraft. I think most of us want as much information to be as easily accessible for as many people as possible. The issue comes from only sharing this information and experience because you think the oppositions is/are wrong. Not because you want the help people learn. And actively putting down certain information because it was shared via social media, while also insisting that your information is the actual correct information.. while also sharing it on the same social media platform.

“Don’t believe everything you see on the internet.... except me. You can believe me.” Is what it feels like. And I think what gets to me the most is the amount of UPG that is sprinkled into a lot of the information that these “I know better” witches share. Thinking you know better or know more because you’ve been doing it longer or doing it different, doesn’t actually mean you do.

I’ve said this before: No one is sharing their entire practice online

“Why are you only doing spell jars?” why do you assume that the only time they practice witchcraft is for a video / photo that they post online?

Better yet, why are you demanding they share more than they’re comfortable with sharing? Why do you feel entitled to know everything about their practice?

Just because a witch’s Tik Tok, Instagram, Tumblr etc is only filled with pretty spell jars and aesthetic photos of teas, doesn’t mean that’s their entire practice. That’s the part they’re willing to share with the world. And even if it was their entire practice, why do you care? Why is it your business? When did they ask you to tell them what you thought of their practice?

In conclusion

Before you make that post or make that video about how X witches aren’t doing Y thing right because I did it Z way, remember we’re all different. Times change. And something being popular doesn’t mean it’s not effective or useful. Something being mainstream doesn’t make it bad or stupid. And witchcraft becoming more and more modernized doesn’t mean it’s losing it’s roots or that the next generation of witches are gonna be “sissy babies with nothing but a bunch of pretty jars.” and even if they are, it’s non of your business.

#witchblr #witches #witchcraft #witches of tumblr #witchy #magic

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writingdumpsite · 3 years

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That’s because she’s shy (g.w.)

Summary: George Weasley doesn’t think you fancy him and decides to prove his point. What he doesn’t see coming is your reaction.

pairing: George Weasley x fem!Reader

words: 3k

A/N: just something I wrote these last days inspired by some lines from one of my favourite films. yes, a couple of days ago I rewatched Pride and Prejudice for the millionth time and the scene where Darcy proposes to Lizzie hit as hard as usual.

“Oh c’mon George! Can you please stop looking at her and listen to what I’m trying to tell you?” Fred groaned once he’s seen his twin brother staring at her, yet again. But George couldn’t help but stare at the entrance of the Great Hall. To be completely honest, he thought she was one of the most beautiful girls he’s ever met. She was talking to Hermione, too focused on her to sense his piercing eyes on her figure. Her soft features seemed even softer thanks to the light that invaded the Great Hall. Her eyes were shining while discussing animatedly with Hermione. George supposed it was something rather interesting. At some point – he couldn’t tell when, though – she has even started gesticulating.

A loud smack on the back of his head brought George back to reality. When he turned his head towards a smirking Fred he felt his cheeks reddening. Fred was not the only one smirking but Harry, Ron and Lee were there, too. The knowing looks were enough for George to be sure he wasn’t getting away with some lame excuse. But he stayed silent, not exactly knowing what to say to his friends. And now that he thought it through, what was he supposed to say? That he fancied Y/N? That seemed pretty obvious. Harry and Ron chuckled but decided not to torment him any further. Instead, they excused themselves and went to their next class.

The silence made him feel uncomfortable but he didn't want to speak first. George sighed in relief when Lee finally decided to open his mouth. “Don’t you think it’s time to say something to that poor soul?” The boy shook his head “I don’t think she fancies me. I mean, we’ve known each other for years. All I've been doing for months now is flirt with her any chance I get.”

“Are you sure you’re flirting? Eye contact and light touches here and there aren’t enough sometimes” Lee nodded at Fred’s words. And deep down George knew his twin was right, that he should tell you instead of subtly flirting once or twice a week. It’s not that difficult. Once you find her alone, you take her somewhere more private and shoot your shot. The plan in his head, though simple, seemed rather effective.

But she was so out of his league, even for the most famous prankster of the entire school. So smart, genuine and kind that nobody was worth her undivided attention. Her grades were stellar and the hobbies she had were unparalleled and far from George’s. She was an artist. In her free time, she was always doing something creative, like reading, playing an instrument or knitting. He knew that because he has been bothering Hermione to get to know pretty much anything he could on her .

He didn't notice the girl turning her head towards the boys at the Gryffindor table. Y/N is quick to catch George's eyes and shoot him a gracious smile. Oh c’mon you idiot, do something. She’s flirting, she’s definitely flirting is all is repeating to himself. But before he could wave at her, she starts to approach the boys at the table, Hermione right behind her.

“Hello boys” she greeted them with the same smile she shot George a minute ago. With that, the idea of her flirting with him faded together with his hope of being his type. Again.

He didn’t pay attention to the greetings she received and avoided the conversation she started with Fred and Lee. Until she said the word “cracker”. His eyes shot up to the girl in time to catch the remaining of the discourse. “My cousin sent me some crackers after I told him about the situation with the Umbridge. They’re nothing like yours, of course, but I reckon the pink toad knows nothing about how these muggle ones work.” The conversation went on for a couple of minutes. She told them how to use them and George found himself mesmerized by the girl’s knowledge on the topic. “I’m not a fan of crackers and I'm not going to use them so if you ever needed them, let me know. I’ll be more than happy to get rid of them.”

She was out of sight when Fred cleared his throat and announced to his twin that if he didn’t ask her out soon, he would. George laughed at that but knew that he needed to end his agony. He spent all day pondering the options on the matter but they seemed so stupid the more he went through them.

It was at dinner that Ron suggested something interesting. “You could always try and make her jealous. You know, you could pretend to date some random girl and see her reaction”. At first, George thought it was a bad idea. He would have to convince someone to pretend to date him. But he also thought that, if the plan worked, Y/N would make a move on him, tell him that she's always fancied him. And they’d finally be together. But if that didn’t happen, if she didn’t show interest at all, that would hurt him even more. Yet, the more he considered the plan, the more he convinced himself that was the right thing to do. So the next day he asked his good friend Alicia to fake-date in front of Y/N next Monday at breakfast.

George needed to get a reaction from the girl. He wanted to know if what he felt for Y/N was unrequited ad he had to give up and forget her, or if she fancied him as well.

What he wasn’t aware of was that Y/N has fancied George for a while. Yet, if he looked for proof, he wouldn’t find any. She was pretty good at disguising her feelings as kind gestures, such as smiling or waving. She sometimes would try and speak to him alone, laugh at his jokes or ask questions if she was chatty that day. And that wasn’t flirting, was it? Plus, everyone knew she was always the quiet one who didn't mean to sound flirtatious. She was aware that she was shy and not good at showing affection to her loved ones. So, she never considered she was acting like a flirt. She was sure she was being rather subtle with her pining but she was wrong, of course. On that day, Hermione explained what she knew about flirting and dating. She resolved, what Y/N was doing was flirting, even if almost non-existent. After that, it didn’t take long for the bright witch to learn what Y/N felt for George Weasley. And that lead to hours of telling her to confess, to make a move, to make it crystal clear that she fancied the prankster. Otherwise, someone else would find a way to his heart.

The process lasted less than imagined. Only a couple of days of distracted expressions and head in the clouds. It also coincided with the weekend and Y/N was not planning on crying her eyes out because of a boy. So, she postponed the whole “profess-your-feelings-to-George” idea to Monday. She was sure that having time to let everything sink in would be good.

All weekend Y/N expected second thoughts or any other impediment to happen. But on Monday morning, there was nothing that could prevent her from her original plans. So, nervously, she got changed and mentally prepared herself to face George.

“So, are you going to do it?” asked Hermione as soon as Y/N met her in the Great Hall. “If it’s of any help, Ron and Harry told me George has been talking non-stop about you for weeks. I'm pretty sure he likes you.” Y/N smiled and tried to stay calm, but everything inside her was screaming. “I’m not sure I’m ready but I'm doing it anyway.” she stated. Then, she took a big breath a continued on a funnier note. “And if it goes wrong I’ll drown myself in the huge pile of homework we have to do”. Hermione laughed and then patted her shoulder to show her support. “I’ll be here in case you need me”. Y/N ’s face softened at her friend's words. After taking another big breath, she stepped into the crowded Great Hall.

Her eyes meticulously scanned all the faces in search of George but it seemed like he wasn’t there.That’s odd, he’s never late for breakfast she thought. Fred was already there, surrounded by everyone she could think of, except for the one she was looking for. Maybe it was a sign. Maybe it wasn’t meant to be. Maybe some kind of guardian angel was trying to send the message that it was not a good day to profess her feelings.

She went back to reality when someone lightly bumped into her shoulder. Y/N ’s eyes, until that moment, fixed on the Gryffindor table, landed on the couple who passed her. They were holding hands and Y/N couldn’t help herself imagining what holding hands would be like with George. But she didn’t have the time to indulge too much in the thought because something ginger caught her eyes. The “something” turned out to be George’s hair.

All she wanted to do was to divert her gaze, forget what she was going to do that morning. But her eyes seemed glued to the scene unfolding in front of her and incapable of focusing on anything else. The couple was now standing mere feet away from her and George was leaning in, as if he wanted to kiss the girl. In the end it was a simple kiss on her forehead but the act itself was enough for her. Y/N felt her heart sinking and before she could do anything to prevent it, tears formed in her eyes. And the more she saw, the more she wanted to slap herself. How could she be so naïve and mistake some kind gestures for interest? George was being so nice to her because it was in his nature and because she hung with his little brother’s friends a lot. How could she not see it?

She was so focused on the scene in front of her. So much that she didn’t notice the tears starting to stream down her face or George’s head turning towards her. But she wasn’t going to show him any of her feelings, so she turned around and run out of the Great Hall as fast as she could. Her run came to an end when something – or rather, someone – pulled her robes and made her turn around. Hermione was now standing in front of her, a sad expression on her face, and Y/N knew that her friend knew. She still wanted to say something, anything to try and justify her run but couldn’t. Instead, she felt her cheeks turning even redder and new tears forming. She had no idea how it happened but a moment later, she felt Hermione's arm around her. And as her head fell on her shoulder, she started sobbing.

Where did it go wrong? Were they happy tears or sad tears? You idiot, obviously they were not happy tears. George couldn’t shake Y/N ’s tear-stained face out of his mind. He wasn’t expecting this reaction. He didn’t do anything completely wrong, either. He didn’t snog Alicia or proposed to her in front of Y/N , he simply kissed her forehead. That meant nothing, either for him or for Alicia. He did what he did to prove his point that Y/N didn’t fancy him. To get a reaction, to see what she felt. He was so sure she would understand that and make a move, it didn’t matter if good or bad.

“So, how did it go?” asked Ron when George took a seat next to him. Across from him, Fred and Lee stopped planning their next prank and turned their head to hear George. He was still studying Y/N ’s reaction, pondering words as not to sound more confused than he already was. “I didn't think I'd made her cry” blurted out the boy, pouring himself a goblet of juice. But before anyone could make any type of comments he added “I’m not sure if that was the reaction I was looking for, though”. “Well, now you’ll understand if she fancies you or not” stated calmly Ron “And decide whether what you’ve been doing for months was flirting or pining” added a smirking Fred.

“Excuse me?” Hermione’s voice snapped behind George. The boy went white as he realised Hermione has been there long enough to find out about the plan. One by one, the other boys decided it was best to return to their breakfasts. That left George to deal with the girl alone. He could see she was fuming so thought it best to stare at her, letting her rant about how stupid the whole idea was. “How could you do that to her? She’s a sobbing mess because you didn’t have the guts to confess your feelings. Among all the options you had, you chose to risk hurting her to not deal with your heart being broken. I wonder why she fancies you. Yes, she should have admitted her feelings for you as well, but she didn’t do something like this just to get a reaction.” The whole situation, Hermione lecturing him, made George feel like a young boy again. Always trying to defend himself when accused of something. But at that times, it never mattered whether it was his fault or not. This clearly wasn’t the case.

“I didn’t know what to do. I panicked because she’s so out of my league. And I didn’t want to make a fool of myself in case she wasn’t interested.” he tried to resonate with Hermione, wording out loud the thoughts that have been floating in his mind for weeks. But the moment he spoke, he came to the conclusion that the whole plan was stupid. “Plus, it seemed like she was completely indifferent to me and my flirting” that was his last resort. Blaming her for not noticing all along only angered Hermione more. “That’s because she’s shy. Y/N hardly shows her true feelings for me. We’ve been friends for years now and I have seen her cry only once when she got bad news from home." An uncomfortable silence fell and George could see Hermione pondering her next words. "Also, if it is of any consolation, a couple of day ago I found out she likes you.” George stayed silent, letting Hermione’s words sink in his brain. “I really fucked up” was all he admitted before getting up and running out of the Great Hall to find Y/N .

“There you are. Ron thought you might be here but I wasn’t sure I should listen to his suggestions this time.” George has been looking all day for the girl, but it seemed impossible. She always managed to find alternative ways to go to class to avoid him but they both knew she couldn’t hide forever. When she didn’t show up for dinner, Ron hinted at Y/N ’s favourite spot. And there they were, right outside one of the greenhouses.

Y/N didn’t have the strength to find an excuse to sneak away. She was exhausted, both mentally and physically after hiding from him all day. At this point, whatever he needed to tell her, she was ready. “What do you need?” she sounded tired and even a little unpolite but she didn’t care. She forced herself to look up at George’s face. Sparkling eyes and a loving smile looking at her. George

“I’d like to apologize for how I behaved this morning. Alicia and I are not dating, we’re just friends. I actually asked her to help me. That scene this morning was supposed to get some kind of reaction out of you, I never wanted to hurt your feelings.” he stopped to catch his breath. He’d never admit it to anyone but he has been rehearsing this whole speech all day so that he wouldn’t make mistakes. Y/N smiled and nodded weakly, encouraging him to continue. “The thing is that I like you, a lot. And I've tried so hard to make it obvious but it didn’t work. I know I am out of your league. I mean, you’re gorgeous, kind, talented and smart, but I’d be honoured if you’d go out with me”. He couldn’t believe he said that. It was a piece of cake, why didn’t he do it sooner? Silence fell between the two, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. George knew Y/N was thinking it through. He didn’t want to pressure her further and so turned around and mentally prayed that everything would turn out fine.

“You know, it hurt. A lot. Today I wanted to tell you the very same thing you told me. But what hurt wasn’t the act itself but the fact that I thought I was late to tell you that I liked you.” George turned to face the girl, who was now smiling. “All day, I've wanted to slap myself because of that. It seemed like, the only time I decide to speak clearly about my feelings and overcome my shyness, I get there late. So, it’s me who’d be honoured to go out with you” her smile was wider now. And though it was dark outside, George saw her cheeks turn red. “Friday night it is then. It’s a date.” it was difficult to contain the happiness now. Before he could stop himself, he felt his arms wrap around Y/N’s figure in a tight hug. The girl grinned and reciprocated. “It’s a date, then” she confirmed and lost herself in George’s arms.

#writing #george weasley #george weasley x you #george weasley x reader #george weasley oneshot #harry potter

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thirstyfortaglines · 3 years

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My girlfriend will outlive me but that’s okay because I love her

Yanfei x Gender Neutral!Reader

1.5k words. Fluffy-ish writing with reader and Yanfei just talking. Tiny bit angsty since there’s some talk of Yanfei’s lifespan being a lot longer than the average human’s.

The rather loud bustling of the streets as the remaining day stalls became more loud in an effort to attract any last customers to their wares before they set up shop for the night was muted to the pair that strolled down its streets. Usually interested in the goods themselves, you and Yanfei had decided to pass on any actual shopping that particular evening in favor of simply taking in the environment of the harbor which was relaxing in its own way with the familiar clamor of the environment.

Despite instigating this outing, wanting to get out after finally finishing a particularly hard job, she was uncharacteristically quiet. For the last few days she had excused herself from the usual excursions around the harbor you two shared, the emotional drain from the child custody case she had taken on leaking into her non-work life. It wasn’t like you could have just told her to care less or to try and let it affect her less, Yanfei loved her work and her dedication and investment in each and every case was what made her so good as a legal adviser. The downside was just that in emotionally charged cases she tended to struggle a bit, the lack of a real definite cut and dry answer or compromise proving taxing on her as no amount of investigation would solve it.

Gently nudging her to catch her attention, she met your gaze. “Something weighing you down?. Even if we weren’t dating I’d still listen to you as your friend. You can always talk to me,” The offer hung in the air for a few moments, the silence bringing up concerns that perhaps it had sounded demanding.

Before you could fret too much, however, she responded. “In a way, yes. It’s a rather heavy topic so let’s discuss it at the end and just enjoy our evening out.” Yanfei’s tone was matter of fact, leaving no room for discussion on the matter for the time being. At least whatever was affecting her wasn’t doing so to the point where she was unable to compose herself quickly like she usually did.

Still not quite sure if she was really okay, you reached and held her hand like you normally did, giving a reaffirming squeeze to it which was reciprocated.

“Now come on, everything will close by the time you get to the stall if you keep on being this slow,” she pestered as she took the lead in moving through the street, letting go of your hand in favor of emoting while she spoke.

“We go to the night market, it’s just becoming sundown.”

“It’ll be well past morning at the rate you’re walking, and if we hold up any stalls who are nice enough to still be open by the time you make it there at that snail’s pace that would be a violation of the ordinance on stall times that requires they only be set up at their allotted time slots, of their own choosing of course.” She was evidently teasing you, her exaggerated nagging tone giving that away easily. As she turned back to make a face at you of mock exasperation at your still average walking pace, you surprised her by having moved right next to her.

“I’m not moving that slow and I won’t lose track of you. Not everyone in Liyue has bright pink hair and is even half as energetic as you.”

Unsurprisingly, she was only surprised for half a second at best before she had a retort lined up. As the two of you continued your walk, playfully arguing while pointing out various wares to each other and occasionally checking out stalls, the warm yellow of streetlamps slowly grew stronger.

It had quieted down for the night, or perhaps it was the place where the two of you had decided to settle at, a patch of grass on the terrace overlooking the harbor, by the time your legs had begun protesting and Yanfei had conceded to stop for the night and rest.

A warm kind of silence filled the air as you rested against each other, the kind that just settled unspoken and naturally.

“Regarding what was bothering me earlier, it was nothing much or perhaps it’d be more prudent to say nothing that will be of pressing importance anytime soon,” she began. Pausing before continuing, she looked at you for affirmation to continue and that you were listening. Not wanting to really verbalize a response and interrupt what she had going on any further, you nodded to indicate your attention. “While I have little fears of children or us separating and whatnot, unlike the case I just dealt with, it did bring some fears to light for me that hadn’t really come to the forefront of my thoughts before.”

She took an extra moment to prepare her words as she turned to fully face you. “There is no doubt in my mind that I would like to spend the rest of my life with you, our long withstanding friendship and now romantic relations a testament to that fact, the fears of your inevitably passing as my lifespan theoretically should far exceed yours are present.”

Yanfei raised her hand in a motion to indicate for you to stay quiet right as you were about to say something, she knew you too well and a small smile broke across your face at that despite the rather heavy conversation topic.

“However, I am not someone who is willing to let the upsides of life pass me by in favor of cowering in fear of what will happen. I’ve thought this through, though not much as the answer was already evident from the start, but I’d like to spend the rest of my life with you and even if that isn’t possible I will do my best. I hope you feel the same.”

Flustered at her words, you were at a loss of words for a moment. Upon seeing your reaction, Yanfei’s expression once again relaxed from the previous serious face she had been wearing, the same one she used to mask her anxiety during her work which was enough to betray her true feelings to you despite how calm she appeared.

“Yeah, I love you a lot too, which is what I’m going to assume that’s what you meant. I won’t lie, I have thought about it before but you’re right that it’s a long way off. Let’s just enjoy the time we have together, and I’ll be sure to make good memories for you to remember” Deciding to counterattack in light of her smug expression, you leaned forward and pressed a kiss against her cheek, the scent of flower perfume and the fried food stalls you had visited together mixed in a rather strange but comfortingly familiar way.

From there, the conversation naturally flowed back to what it usually was, ending with Yanfei standing up and brushing her skirt off.

“With that off my shoulders, I feel up to doing another investigation. I got a request for another case as I was exiting the courthouse earlier today and was already given the downpayment for it,” she began, the usual glimmer in her eyes back in full force which you were more than happy to see.

“Is it another case of false advertising at another stand selling trinkets?” you sighed, tone laced with tiredness that was only mostly fake. “I thought today was supposed to be resting as time off from your last case?”

“That was yesterday, it’s already a new day. The peace and prosperity of Liyue won’t stand without people there to keep everything in order.”

“It also won’t go away if you decide to take a day or 2 off.”

“Oh hush and help me find out what place was selling those frost jade crystals, I have a feeling they’re false as they didn’t seem to have cryo energy within them and the only really nearby source of them that’s reliable is shipments from Snezhnaya and whatever the traveller brings from the cryo enemies in Monstadt. Neither of those two have relations with the seller which is exceedingly suspicious,” she began, already involved and trying to get an angle on the situation. It was cute, but it’d be even cuter if she wasn’t already halfway down the stairs to the main part of the harbor while you had been distracted trying to figure out what she was trying to investigate.

“I’m hurrying up, I’ve got it,” you called out just as she turned around to probably call on you, mirroring how she had quieted you before when she anticipated your response. As you rushed to get off the ground and not fall down the stairs, you almost fell.

“If you die early from chasing after me and falling down the stairs I will personally not let your soul leave your body. Now hurry up and be careful, the sun is rising soon,” Yanfei teased, turning back around and sprinting down the stairs rather gracefully. Benefits of being alive for hundreds of years included knowing the exact architecture of Liyue Harbor and how to sprint down stairs without tripping it seemed. Sighing, you called out to your girlfriend as you ran after her though you were still smiling.

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #yanfei #yanfei x reader #mod rhubirb

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babbushka · 3 years

Text

Beyond Reasonable Doubt (ch.3)

– A Lawyer AU –

You and Kylo Ren have hated one another for as long as you can remember. He, a criminal prosecutor, and you, a defense attorney should be natural-born enemies, and you are. But when Kylo comes to you seeking representation after being charged for a murder he didn’t commit, you both learn a thing or two about life, the law, and love…

[5k, cw: mentions of murder, rivals/enemies-to-lovers, adult language/name calling; NSFW: PIV, shower sex, oral sex, biting/marking]

Tumblr Masterlist || Available on AO3

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The sun hasn’t risen, when the alarm goes off. Much like every other day, you wake up too early, with too little sleep. One would think you’d be used to it by now, it’s the same routine you’ve had for years and years, but something about letting the pull of sleep drift away always makes you a little annoyed, especially when you’ve had such good dreams.

And oh, were the dreams good! Stretching awake, your hand absentmindedly shuts off the alarm, and in the dark of your bedroom, you shuck the covers off of your legs, letting your feet slide into the slippers you keep in the perfect spot so that your toes don’t have to touch the cold floor. Cracking your joints and shaking away the lingering desire to crawl back into bed, you let out a little sigh.

What an overactive imagination you had, you chuckle a little to yourself as you scrub a hand over your face, eyes blinking into the nothingness. You can see the lights in the distance, the city that never sleeps waiting to greet you as your cheeks heat from the visions of Kylo’s body that float behind your eyelids. The way he had moved around you, over you, made your mouth water, and you shook the thought from your head, because you had to actually be productive today. You couldn’t think about Kylo’s body when you had to worry about his case.

Which is why you nearly scream when a strong hand wraps around your wrist, and deep voice rumbles out a stubborn, “No.”

You’re stunned, and confused, to say the least. Blinking a little more rapidly, in the dark you see the shape of a figure in your bed, nestled against the pillow and tucked under the covers. Or well, he was tucked under the covers, until you threw them off, waking him up. He’s not happy about that, if the way he’s tugging you back down onto the mattress with a little too rough of a pull is anything to go by.

“What..?” You start, not really knowing what exactly you’re asking.

What are you doing here? is a good bet, but this early, it could really be any number of things. Kylo rarely slept over at your apartment after he fucked you hard, much preferring his own penthouse to that of your one-bedroom.

“Go back to bed.” His voice is thick, he’s not even awake himself, halfway between dreams of his own. You briefly wonder what he’s dreaming about, and then all you can think of it how strong this massive bear of a man must be, for him to have such a strong grip when he’s not even conscious.

“I can’t, I have work.” You try to get out of said grip, eyeing your clock.

Kylo doesn’t play nicely, but then again, when does he ever?

“Call out.” He manhandles you a little, waking up enough to get his other arm around you, pulling you closer closer closer to him, until you’re back in bed fully, your face tucked under his chin. His breath smells bad and you crinkle your nose at him when he mumbles, “Tell them you’re busy.”

“No, Kylo, I can’t – ” Protesting, you swat at his shoulder a little, but it doesn’t do anything other than make a dull thudding sound. He’s too solid, the bastard.

“Here I’ll do it for you.” Kylo reaches over for your phone on the nightstand, and is dialing before you can even threaten him about it. “Ms. Heart? (Y/N) won’t be coming in today. Something’s come up, she’ll be in tomorrow. Uh huh. Mhm. I’ll tell her. Thank you.”

You’re positive that he’s not going to tell you whatever it was that Neisha told him, and you’re also positive that you’re pissed at him, illustrating that anger with a snappish, “Who the fuck do you think you are?”

“Someone who just got you a day off.” Kylo replies tiredly, locking your phone and setting it back on the nightstand.

“I don’t want a day off, Kylo, I have – oh shit, the meeting!” You accidentally smack his face with yours as you sit upright in bed, the cold rush of realization crashing through you. At once, you’re groaning, your head falling into your hands.

“What meeting is more important than – ”

“My promotion, Kylo. That’s what’s more important.” You snap, “They’re never going to make me a junior partner if I keep blowing them off like this.”

Kylo’s quiet about that for a blissful three seconds, before he’s settling back down against your mattress, rubbing his hand over your bare arm to coax you back under the sheets. You hate him so fucking much, as you shove yourself against his chest, his arms automatically curling around you.

“You say it as though you make a habit of ignoring work, which we both know is the opposite of the truth. When’s the last time you actually called out of work?” Kylo mumbles into your hair, still somehow asleep, his eyes not having opened once this entire time.

“That’s not the point – ”

“When?” He urges, and you bite him sharply on the shoulder for being right.

“Six years ago.” You admit, even though you’re not happy about it.

“Exactly.” Kylo sounds entirely too pleased with himself for it not even being five in the morning, “Now, back to bed.”

It is absolutely not snuggling, the way that you press your body against his. He’s a space-heater and nothing more, that’s all. Even with the heat turned on in your apartment, Kylo radiates warmth and you’re comfortable under the covers with him, as the winter rolls on outside your windows.

But as comfortable as you are, your routine has your eyes open, and you start to get antsy just lying there.

“I’m too awake now, I’m hungry. What do you want for breakfast?” You nudge him with your palm, making him groan as if you’re the one who is insufferable here. You quickly amend your question with a disgruntled, “And don’t you dare say pussy, because that’s not happening.”

“What? Why not?” That wakes Kylo up, has him sitting up against your headboard with a scowl as he turns on the bedside lamp, illuminating the room with a gentle orange glow.

“Because you’re an asshole, that’s why.” You explain with a scoff, and Kylo only rolls his eyes and grumbles something unintelligible under his breath. You want to kiss him, so instead you stretch and ask, “Why don’t you go make yourself useful and run to the deli?”

“I’ll have my assistant do it, what do you want?” He’s reaching for your phone again, and you don’t care enough to stop him this time.

“The usual. You want money?” You offer, but he only frowns at you with a shake of his head, as if the offer is insulting.

With a deep sigh, you throw the covers off your legs once again, your eyes trailing up and down Kylo’s naked body as the movement reveals him. He really is fucking sexy, you think. Too bad he’s the biggest pain in your ass to exist.

“I’m going to shower, are you coming?” You already know the answer, but Kylo likes to hear you ask anyway, so you do, and he does.

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Your moans echo and bounce off the shower walls, as he presses your face against the warmed tile. His body covers yours, he’s touching you all over, his hands broad and wide and searing hot. Hotter even than the water that runs over your shoulders, soaking your hair, pooling into your mouth where your jaw is dropped open as he fucks you hard.

It took all of two seconds for him to get hard, and you weren’t in the mood to waste a perfectly good opportunity to come first thing. In the shower, it felt so secretive, so secluded, just the two of you in this little rectangle of space, curtains drawn, no one around to see the way your body begs for his.

He’s got you pressed against the tile so you have something to brace yourself on as he hikes your leg up and plows his cock into you. Soapy sudsy water slicked up your bodies and the two of you groan and gasp and moan moan moan as he fills you completely, his mouth latched to your throat, pressing his teeth into the muscle there.

“Goddamn – ow, shit – ” You wince when he thrusts a little too hard a little too fast, and he stills at once, kissing your shoulder and your throat, the spot behind your ear, your jaw and your cheek to soothe you.

“You okay?” His voice is deep, it sends a shiver down your spine despite the steam that fogs up the room, crystal clear above the noise of the water cascading around you.

“Yeah just, just a little sore from last night.” You admit with a sigh as he continues his pace for a few more thrusts, going slower, deeper. You squeak out a moan as he drops one of his hands to massage at your clit, your nipples rubbing against the tile wall as he grinds his cock into you.

“C’mon let me eat your cunt, I’ll make it feel better.” He licks across your jaw, broad thick strokes of his tongue, a preview for how he wants to lick into your pussy.

“Yes, okay yes – Kylo!” You moan with a nod, and you can feel his grin on your throat when he manhandles you carefully, making sure you don’t slip. He almost landed you in the fucking emergency room that way once, and you still haven’t let him live it down.

Kylo turns you around so that your back is against the wall, and he drops to his knees in front of you. Carefully, he pulls one of your legs over his shoulder, your hands grasping at his arms to steady yourself as he nuzzles his face right between your thighs.

“Attagirl, I know I’m a lot to take but you do a damn good job, don’t you?” Kylo praises you with that deep rumbling baritone of his as he bites and kisses dark marks into the flesh of your inner thigh, and the way it travels up your body has you dizzy, has you breathing in deep lavender scented breaths from the shampoo he’s stolen off your shower caddy.

“You fuckin’ bet, I’m the only one who can.” You groan, fisting his hair and pushing him closer, until you can hear him chuckling at how eager you are for his nose to prod against your clit.

He doesn’t respond, only spreads your folds with his big thumbs and gets to work, making out with your pussy in a way that has you moaning from deep in your chest. Your eyes shut as his tongue wriggles and thrusts inside of you, teeth lightly scraping enough against your clit to make your body jolt from the barely-there friction.

You could do with a finger or two shoved up your cunt, and you’re about to ask him if he would, when you feel the steady rhythmic shaking of him jerking off. He grunts and groans into your pussy as he kisses and licks and sucks sucks sucks, drinks down all your slick in a way that has your eyes rolling back into your head, the hot puffing panting breaths he ghosts over your walls have your knees shaking. He laps you up like he’s desperate for it, and with the way he keeps bucking into his own fist, you know that he is.

You grind your hips against his mouth, the hand in his hair tight tight tight, holding him there, suffocating him almost. His nose is too big for that to really happen, but it’s right where you want it to be, and he moans and grunts as he breathes the heady scent of your arousal in, your body undulating above him until you’re coming down his throat.

“I’m gonna come.” He mumbles into your body as he sucks and slurps it down, a messy sloppy sound that makes your chest tighten with mild embarrassment. Kylo doesn’t seem to care about the noise, he’s so lost in his own pleasure as he speeds up his fist on his cock, the head leaking and dripping pre-come down his shaft only to be swept away by the water from the shower.

“Where?” You pant, “Want to come in me?”

“I – shit.” He spills over his fist at the very thought of it, and grunts out small groans in rapid succession as he milks it for what it’s worth, wringing out every drop that he can.

It’s almost bittersweet, you think, watching his load swirl around and around down the drain. But then you’re shaking your head, and you take back your leg, planting your foot firmly on the floor. Kylo is still on his knees, and he’s panting, his cock softening, his hair inky black as it covers his face.

Spent, he leans against your body, shoulders rising as he gulps down lungfuls of air. You push the hair away from his eyes, and in a moment of tenderness, he rests his head against your stomach, turning to press a chaste kiss to your belly-button.

“Maybe next time.” He finally musters up the strength to say, and you don’t let him see you smile as you reach for the conditioner and begin working it through his locks.

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Nearly an hour later, you and Kylo are drying yourselves off on the padded rug that covers the heated tiles of your bathroom floor. You tie the sash of a terry-cloth robe around your waist, and he secures a towel around his hips, and you almost want to say something about how he’s so annoying for taking your favorite towel, but you let the comment go.

Instead, you have an altogether different comment, when you exit the bathroom and smell the familiar savory scent of your deli order wafting in from the dining room. It only takes a moment to recognize that Dopheld must have picked up the order that Kylo placed, and brought it to you before leaving, making you scowl and ask, “Since when does your assistant have a key to my apartment?”

“I made a copy when you gave me one, figured you wouldn’t mind.” He’s quick to reply, which has you sighing in exasperation.

“Maybe I do mind.”

“Do you?”

The two of you stare are one another, and when Kylo raises his eyebrow, he knows he’s won.

“No.” You admit, more annoyed on behalf of the principle of the thing than the thing itself, but, “I’m too hungry to really care.”

And you don’t really care, you’re just slightly embarrassed again at the idea that Dopheld heard you calling out Kylo’s name, in the brief moments that he was in the apartment. You knew your walls weren’t that thick.

“Want breakfast in bed?” Kylo doesn’t seem to be phased at all by the idea that you’ve been overheard, so much like the towel, you let that go too. There were too many battles to pick with Kylo, the key didn’t need to be one of them.

“No we are going to sit at the table like civilized people so that someone doesn’t get crumbs in my sheets like a messy college boy.” What you won’t compromise on though, was sitting at the dining table, shooting him a dirty look.

“I resent that.” He jabs a finger in your direction, the intensity of the gesture undercut by the towel that is barely hanging onto his wide hips.

“Good.” You snort out a chuckle, before he chases you into the dining room where your breakfast awaits.

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Sitting in your robe and towel, you and Kylo dig in to the deli takeout while it’s still nice and hot. You got your usual order, and Kylo got his, and the two of you even indulge in hot steaming cups of coffee that Dopheld must have picked up on his way back to your apartment.

Eating in companionable silence, you get nearly halfway your food before letting out a sigh. Kylo wasn’t just here to be annoying, he was here because he is your client. The trial is a month away, and that seems both like the most time in the world, and tomorrow at the same time.

“You’re going to have to tell me everything you know, you know.” You bring it up finally, now that it’s after eight-o’clock in the morning and you should really be in the office dealing with this very thing.

“Can it wait until after breakfast at least? I don’t want to spoil our appetite.” Kylo waves it off, not too keen on getting down to business yet. You can’t really blame him, the man isn’t even dressed after all.

“Fine.” You amend to after breakfast, “I’m going to arrange a meeting with the prosecutor in the next couple of days to figure out what their angle is, and if you’re being framed like you say you are, I’m going to need every single scrap of proof you can give me before I go digging.”

“I’ll tell you everything, including my suspects for who actually did it.” He sips his coffee.

“This isn’t about who actually did it, this is about convincing the jury that it wasn’t you.” You remind him, and he chews carefully, thoughtfully.

“I’ve seen you, on the stand. I know that we could get them to confess.” The way he so easily switches from charming to serious gives you whiplash, the smoldering of his eyes boring into yours has you reminded of the way he moves through the courtroom.

The implications of that wording have you internally wincing, and you have to be sure you know what he means, so you clarify, “Plural?”

He nods, and you sigh.

“Let’s just take this one step at a time, okay?” You can already feel a headache coming on, and you’d like to preserve the good mood that he put you in from the shower for a little longer. “Eat your breakfast, tell me exactly what you were doing, and we’ll go from there.”

You dig back into your breakfast, mind already reeling about the facts of the case. You don’t really know anything yet, the paperwork for the case is sitting on your desk and you haven’t gone into the office to read through it. You’re curious who the prosecutor assigned is going to be, you wonder which judge you’ll have. You’re already thinking about juries and evidence and alibis and and and, that you almost miss the way Kylo seems to be staring at you.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” You have to ask, unable to place the expression he wears.

He seems to debate his answer in his head, you can see the wheels turning behind his eyes and it only makes you more curious when he eventually blinks and shrugs, wiping at his chin with a gentle, “You have schmutz on your face.”

Frowning, you wipe at your own chin with the back of your hand, and lo and behold he’s right. You wonder how long that’s been there, before a sound from the street calls your attention.

“Do you hear that?” You turn your head towards the window, training your ear to try and figure out what going be going on.

“Hear what?” Kylo doesn’t seem to notice, and because he’s never any help, you get up and go to the window yourself.

“…Oh for fuck’s sake.” You groan, quickly ducking away from the window the second you realize what’s going on.

“What is it?” Now curious for himself, Kylo does the exact same thing, leaving the both of you on the floor, crouched underneath the window of the dining room.

Down the several stories below, standing outside your apartment building is what can only be described as a swarm of paparazzi. It looked like dozens of photographers, at least four news trucks, reporters and journalists all clamoring to try and catch a glimpse of someone. And you seriously doubted that the someone was anyone other than your own Mr. Ren.

“Guess the news is out.” You sigh, aggravation bubbling up in your chest.

“Good thing we’re up here and they’re down there, huh?” He doesn’t seem too ruffled, which only aggravates you further, since he’s the reason they’re all there.

“No, it’s not a good thing! We aren’t going to be able to leave now unless we want to get fucking swamped.” You groan, shuffling away from the window with Kylo close behind, the two of you crawling around like idiots so that the photographers don’t see you, “Someone must have followed us from the restaurant last night. Next time we go out we’re using aliases.”

“Yes ma’am.” He replies, and you give him a glare over your shoulder.

“Now’s not the time to be cheeky.” You stand up when you know that you’re out of sight, and immediately make a beeline for your closet.

Kylo follows suit, and begins to put on the clothes that he wore last night. They’re slightly rumpled from being thrown on the floor, and you know how much he hates that sort of thing. You briefly entertain the thought of keeping a stash of clothing here for him, but then dismiss the idea. That’s far too domestic for the no-strings-attached arrangement that you have both agreed on.

“It’s early, I’m sure in an hour they’ll get bored of crowding the streets or the cops will shoo them away.” He shakes his head, pausing as he does up the zipper and button on his trousers, “Or…”

“Or what, Kylo?” You’re almost afraid to ask, with the way he trails off like that. It’s usually never a good idea, when that happens.

“Want to sneak out and go to my apartment? I can show you documents and whatever else I have, things that will help our case.” He offers, confirming your fears.

“The building is surrounded by photographers and news trucks, how do you propose we slip past them?” You continue to dress yourself, putting on something smart yet comfortable. There was no reason to be in a suit today, a rare opportunity that you’re only secretly excited to indulge in.

“Dopheld can pick us up by the service exit in one of the cars I don’t use often.”

“And what makes you think that there aren’t vultures waiting at your apartment either?”

“Oh I’m sure there are, but my building is way fucking nicer, and I figure if we have to be stuck somewhere, why not there?” Kylo snorts, and you scowl at him.

“You’re such a dick, don’t insult my apartment.” You put your hands on your hips, halfway wanting to send him out into the public by himself, to brave the paparazzi and reporters on his own.

“You didn’t build it, did you?” Kylo only retorts sarcastically, quickly adding, “Besides, you won’t let me smoke here.”

He got you there, Kylo did. In all honesty, you’re surprised he’s managed to go this long without a cigarette, and you’ve seen how crabby he gets when he hasn’t had one. If you’re going to be stuck with him for the day and need him to be cooperative in giving you information, you’re going to want nicotine in his system.

“…Fair enough.” You acquiesce, and try to ignore how smug he must look as you grab your purse.

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

Your apartment building is nice, far nicer than most. You had a doorman and elevators and that was more than most people could dare to dream of having in New York City. It was a pre-war building, one of those big beautiful testaments to architecture, filled with details that you just couldn’t find in the cookie-cutter-pre-fabricated high-rises that they keep building. One of those features, was an absolutely huge service elevator, that you were told was used to move big pieces of furniture like grand pianos, in and out units.

Despite it being a nice apartment, you didn’t quite have the space in your particular unit for a piano, but still, you took advantage of the service elevator and tried to ignore the anxiety of the possibility that the entire building was surrounded with people wanting to catch a glimpse of the accused.

“Your phone is blowing up.” You’re concentrating so hard on ignoring that possibility, that you don’t realize how many notifications you’re getting until Kylo points it out.

“Yeah it’s probably my fucking boss wondering why I’m ignoring her for the second day in a row.” Muttering under your breath, you pull your phone out of your purse and turn it on do not disturb, hoping that it’ll be out of sight and therefore out of mind.

“You’re busy.” Kylo shrugs.

“She’s not going to care.” You keep your eyes trained on the numbers of the elevator as they ding one by one, a steady descent to the ground floor.

“She’ll understand when you tell her what’s going on, if she hasn’t figured it out by now.” Kylo says in a strange attempt to keep you calm, but you can only chuckle dryly.

“Oh I’m sure everyone in the office has figured it out; gossip travels fast.” You sigh.

You got lucky that no one else needed to use the elevator for anything, but why should they? It was still too early for deliveries, and for that you’re grateful. You almost feel bad for anyone trying to get to work, leaving through the front doors.

The elevator finally slows to a stop, and Kylo nudges your elbow with his.

“You ready to make a run for it?” He asks, and you hate feeling like you’re sneaking around, even though that’s exactly what you’re doing. You simply nod, and when the elevator doors open, Kylo practically lights up, point out, “Look, there’s the car right there. No paparazzi in sight, just like I said.”

Not wanting to waste any more time, you make a beeline for the car. Kylo’s a gentleman enough to open the door for you, and the second that it’s closed, his assistant pulls onto a backstreet, away from the commotion entirely.

“Hello again Dopheld.” You greet the young man, wanting to at the very least be civil despite your mood.

“Morning Ms. (L/N), I’m sorry, I feel like this is all my fault – ”

“What? Don’t be silly, you aren’t the one accused of murder.” You interrupt him, shooting Kylo a glare.

“There’s no need to be a bitch about it.” Kylo lights up a cigarette and sucks down a few drags, cracking the window to blow the smoke out as he mutters, “I didn’t even do it.”

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

Kylo’s penthouse apartment isn’t that far away from you, but the traffic always makes driving around Manhattan insufferable. Eventually though, you do arrive at his building, and are relieved to see that no one is out front crowding the block in the same way that they crowd yours. You were right, someone must have seen and told their peers that Kylo was at your place.

Still, to take every precaution, Dopheld drops you off around the side service entrance of his own building, bypassing his doorman and luxurious art-deco lobby. It takes two minutes in the elevator to get all the way up to the top floor that only Kylo’s key can unlock, but you don’t release the breath that you’ve been holding until you’re safely and securely in the foyer of his place, the door closed behind you.

You could spend time marveling at the penthouse, admiring all the windows. You could, but you have more important things to do, and Kylo knows it. So, without a word, he leads you through the penthouse, down a hallway and around a corner and then down another hallway, into his home office.

It’s dark in there, and kept nice and cool to preserve all his books in the antique bookshelves that line the walls, and when Kylo sits behind his desk, you can’t help but be impressed. He looks like a right and proper lawyer, a powerful lawyer – and that’s because he is.

He also, happens to be, for the first time in his life, a client.

“Alright, where do you want to start?” You sit down on the couch that’s in the room, another antique piece of furniture that’s nestled next to a coffee table, where you settle your purse and pull out a tape recorder.

“I think it only makes sense to start at the beginning.” Kylo shrugs, and you nod, turning the recorder on so that you can focus on simply listening now, and taking notes later. He clears his throat, and cracks his knuckles, and begins with: “It was a dark and stormy night…”

“Kylo.” You warn, and he chuckles to himself just a little, making you shake your head in mild exasperation.

“Okay okay, fine.” He combs a hand through his hair, and sighs himself.

Whatever this was, however this was going to go, if you were to win you needed him to be frank with you. No jokes, no teasing, just the facts. This was going to be a gnarly and nasty case, and you aren’t so sure how much help you’ll have to win it – if you’ll have any help at all.

He knows this, and after his initial little joke, a familiar scowl settles deep into the features of his face, reminding him of the formidable opponent and rival that you knew him to be – the unstoppable force to your immovable object.

Kylo takes another drag of his cigarette, holds the tar in his lungs for a moment or two before exhaling a big cloudy puff of blue-grey smoke, and runs his hand through his hair again, a nervous habit.

“It starts, with my grandfather, Anakin.”

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

Tagging some Kylo lovin' friends! @mochabucky @sacklerscumrag @artsymaddie @bitchydecisions @direnightshade @reyloaddict55 @thembohux @kylorenswhxre @sunflowersinthesnow @babayagakeanu @safarigirlsp @steeevienicks @the-unmanaged-mischief @materialisthicc @lovinghufflepuffgirl @hswritingrecs @han68000 @rosi3ba3z @chapterhappygirl @schopenhauerdeathsquad @loverofallthings @groovetoob @bxnnywriting @glassbxttless @angel-bxby3 @smallgirlbigpersonality @lovelyyy-luna @2000andwhat @raddo1975 @cornmousequeen @angstywhore @theinfinitenerd @whateveryousay-dude

#kylo ren #kylo ren/reader #kylo ren x reader #kylo ren/you #kylo ren x you #kylo ren fanfic #adam driver character #adcu #lawyer au #lawyer!kylo ren #modern kylo ren #my writing #beyond reasonable doubt #kylo ren smut

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banana-vatore · 3 years

Text

Even Today

A Hordak birthday fic

word count: 1.8k

(Please read on mobile to avoid awakward paragraph division, not necessary but highly advised :'>)

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(Set after season 5)

"Hey Hordak?" Entrapta loudly called from the other side of her lab, her voice slightly muffled by her mask.

Hordak's ears perked up as he raised his gaze from the small piece of machinery he was currently in the process of reassembling. "Hmm?"

"When's your birthday?" Entrapta said, her attention still on the current project she was working on, tinkering with a sensor piece of a destroyed Galactic-Horde surveillance bot.

The question took Hordak by surprise. Why would she ask that all of a sudden? Why was the topic of birthdays even on her mind in the first place? It certainly could not be her birthday today, could it? No, Hordak distinctly remembered her celebrations a relative short while ago. So why-

Hordak realized he probably took a little too long to think about it when Entrapta added.

"I'm sorry I've never asked this before". She put down the sensor piece on her work table and with a swift motion of her hair, she was already half-way across the lab, about merely 4 feet from Hordak.

"I know should've asked this ages ago, back at the Fright Zone, even, but I just never got around to it, and then everything with Beast Island happened, and then you were-" her voice sounded a bit stressed, as she was seeming to get a little more out of breath with each word she that came out of her mouth.

"Starlight, it's fine." Hordak stopped her mid-sentence and took a couple steps close to her. "There’s no need to apologise", he said with a small, reassuring smile.

"What got you thinking about this issue?"

Entrapta cocked her head to the side a little.

"Nothing in particular, really," she shrugged, "I've just been thinking about.. a lot, actually,"

Hordak chuckled. When was she not, he thought.

"And I realized we never celebrated your birthday, which seemed odd to me", she finished.

Hordak sighed. "I.." he took a short pause, "I do not have a birthday."

Entrapta quickly flicked her mask up with a tendril of her hair. "What?!" she gasped, "that's ridiculous! Everybody has a birthday! Even Imp!"

Imp was never intended to have a birthday.

Hordak only wrote down the date of his cloning for scientific research purposes and to keep track of his development.

That changed once Imp learned the concept of a birthday while spying on some Horde cadets.

Hordak ran his hand across his face with a long groan. "Imp does not count.” Hordak said with a sigh. “The only reason that rascal even has a birthday in the first place is because he realized that would earn him more attention and food."

Entrapta pouted. "Fine, then..” she paused for a moment, running her hands through the hair of her right ponytail, thinking. “Take Kadroh!” She exclaimed. “Even he has one! and he's a clone just like you!"

Hordak took a moment to think about that statement.

Back in the hivemind, the Galactic Horde clones never had the luxury of having a birthday. Hordak wouldn't really describe their creation as a "birth" in the first place, so calling that a birthday seemed illogical to him anyway.

Even Horde Prime himself never had a birthday, or anything similar to that. It's not like he needed a specific day to emphasize his presence and being when Hordak and the rest of the clones' entire lives were centered around him anyway.

"He does not count either. His birthday was given to him by you and your friends."

Entrapta’s brows furrowed. "Still! who said your birthday has to be your actual date of birth!" she said, her hair gesturing dramatically in the air as she's speaking. "Or, cloning, I guess, in your case. We can just find you a suitable date for that! You see it worked fine with Kadroh".

"Kadroh is a different case.” Hordak pouted and crossed his arms. “The date you chose for him is significant to him so it was fitting. I do not have such a date to my name."

Kadroh's given birthday was decided to be the date he got disconnected from the hivemind and joined the Etherians on their mission to beat Prime. To quote Kadroh, he felt like that was the day he was born again, the day he actually got to become a person of his own outside of Horde Prime’s shadow.

Entrapta raised an eyebrow in confusion.

“Um, what about the day you stood up against Prime? and.. declared your personhood? ‘I am Hordak and I defy your will’?” She quoted his speech to Prime, gesturing dramatically with her hair as if she’s holding an imaginative figure, mimicking the way Hordak was holding Prime while delivering his speech.

Hordak’s ears drooped. “Well..” his words started to stammer a bit. “That day is already declared as a holiday. I do not feel like it would be logical to add another celebration to such an already loaded date.”

While technically he was right, the day of Horde Prime’s demise was already declared as a holiday on Etheria, one of the most important ones even, Entrapta wasn’t buying his excuses.

“Why do I feel like you’re just avoiding having one altogether?” Entrapta said, raising an eyebrow at him. She raised herself on her hair to match Hordak’s eye level.

Hordak turned his head away as to avoid catching her eyes. “I.. do not feel like having an entire day centered around me would prove to be very productive.” He said quietly.

Worry spread across Entrapta’s face.

“Birthdays aren’t supposed to be productive, Hordak, they’re supposed to be fun!” She said with a smile. Seeing Hordak looking unconvinced, she took a couple of moments to think.

“Do you feel like my birthday is unproductive?” She simply asked.

Hordak instantly turned his look back to face her. “What? Why would I think such a thing?”

“Please elaborate.” Entrapta added.

“Of course your birthday is productive!” He replied within mere seconds. “It’s important to you and it makes you feel happy. By all accounts, that should deem it nothing but productive.”

“So would you agree that it only seems logical that I would want to see you just as happy?”

Hordak’s ears drooped as he tried to turn his head away once again, but a tendril of Entrapta’s hair stopped him as she grabbed him gently by the cheek and turned his look back to her.

Her touch on his cheek was as light as can be. She hadn’t actually grabbed him, but guided him to face her.

Hordak looked in her eyes for a quick moment before turning his look away again. He could feel the heat starting to creep up his cheeks.

“I.. I suppose it does.”

Entrapta moved a little closer to him and slowly placed her gloved hand on the purple crystal on Hordak’s chest, analyzing it with her eyes and tracing its carvings.

Hordak couldn’t fight the smile that managed to find its way to his face. He fully understood what she was getting at.

Carefully, he started moving his hand to put atop hers. He did so slowly partly out of uncertainty, but also as to give her enough time to move her hand away if she didn’t feel like being touched at the moment, but her hand kept steady as he placed his own on hers.

As Entrapta raised her gaze to look at Hordak, another tendril of her hair had almost subconsciously raised up and cupped Hordak’s other cheek. She was quick to turn her head away in embarrassment as her cheeks had almost instantly started to flush red, but Hordak only responded with a soft chuckle and a genuine smile, and leaning into her touch.

Entrapta slowly turned her head back to face Hordak and an instant smile spread across her face when she saw him looking so content.

They stayed like that for a couple more moments before her smile wore off a little when she started to speak. Her expression soft, but with a tinge of worry. “So, what do you feel?”

Hordak’s eyes focused on everything but her at that moment, lost in thought.

“I.. appreciate your thought and care. More than I could ever express. But I am not sure I am ready for these sorts of great celebrations of my own, yet. I don’t think having me at the center of attention would prove to be a good idea.”

Entrapta sighed. She looked a little bummed, but gave him an understanding smile nonetheless. “I’m not going to push you to do anything you don’t feel like. I just want to show you that the option is here if you ever feel like it, okay?”

Hordak smiled and squeezed her hand a little, their hands still on the crystal on his chest.

“And hey, no one said your celebrations have to be grandiose or anything.” Entrapta added. “It can be just us, if you’d like.”

Hordak’s ears perked up and he found himself blushing again.

Entrapta pulled herself back from Hordak’s touch and quickly dropped her mask down with her hair.

“Uh- I mean, a-and Kadroh and Imp and Emily too! of course!” She said in a quick pace, her words fumbling a little. “We wouldn’t want to leave them out of all the fun, right?”, she said, scratching the back of her neck.

Even though he couldn’t see her face, he could clearly imagine her blushing.

“You’re right”, he said with a soft chuckle.

Entrapta raised her mask with her hand to reveal her smiling a little, her cheeks just as bright red as Hordak imagined.

“Sooo….” Entrapta dragged out the word, “If you’re on board for a small celebration, nothing big, have you picked a date yet?” She said, tapping her two index fingers together in interest.

“I.. um,” Hordak started looking around as he was trying to think of something to say.

“It can be any date!” Entrapta said holding a finger up. “Anything that comes to mind, even today!”

Hordak’s eyes widened. Entrapta noticed and snickered quietly. “What d’you think of that?”

“It doesn't seem like a bad idea.” Hordak said.

“Mhm!" She nodded. "I know it’s not a notable day or anything, but…”

“It shall work”, Hordak said with a small smile.

“It’s a date!” Entrapta exclaimed happily and lifted herself up on her hair, shaking two balled up fists in excitement.

In a matter of seconds, Entrapta had already managed to perk herself up on her hair to Hordak’s face and kiss his lips. The peck only lasted a couple of seconds but was enough to manage to fluster Hordak, again. His ears drooped as they parted.

When he finally managed to get his eyes to focus again, he saw Entrapta smiling at him. “Happy birthday, lab partner”.

He tried to recollect himself to answer, unsuccessfully.

Entrapta replied with a small laugh, then abruptly stopped.

“Wait!” she exclaimed loudly. “I’ll go notify the kitchen crew, what flavour cake would you like? never mind, i’ll have them make a trayful of everything anyway, wait right here!”. And with a few quick swishes of her hair, she was already out the door.

Hordak was left standing alone in the lab, dumbfounded.

“Wait!”. But by the time he had managed to say something, she was already somewhere down the halls of the castle.

“Happy birthday, lab partner”, he replayed her words in his head. Thinking of her, her excitement, her words of encouragement, her kiss,

He was finally convinced it was going to be a good day.

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Happy birthday Hordak, you silly bat *smooches*

I apologise in advance for any mistakes I might've done here, English isn't my first language and this is the first ever fic I posted so.. constructive criticism is more than welcome! <3 but other than that, I hope you enjoyed reading!

#Writing #Entrapta #Hordak #Entrapdak #Fic #Entrapta x Hordak #SPOP #She Ra #she ra and the princesses of power #kadroh #wrong hordak #imp #horde prime

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isoldmysoultojonahclemence · 3 years

Text

Ikerev Tips

I’ve been playing Ikerev for a while now. I actually first started this game 3 years ago, and I was just browsing through the app store, looking for nice games to play, when I first saw Jonah’s character cg.

A little bit of background on me now: I have a mole under the RIGHT eye. And I’ve noticed that it’s a really popular trope in anime/manga/games to have a mole under a character’s eye. But the thing is, almost every character I’ve seen with moles have them under the LEFT eye, and it frustrates me cuz we need to give right eye mole people some love. So when I saw that Jonah has a mole under his right eye, I knew that he was The One.

However, I guess the game didn’t really appeal to me at the time. I finished Jonah’s romantic route and Loki’s dramatic route and I loved them, but I deleted the game afterwards cuz no other characters appealed to me. However, 1 year ago, I picked up the game again, and I ended up getting REALLY invested in all the characters and became obsessed with this game.

I rambled for a while there. The point that I’m trying to make is that I have quite a bit of experience with Ikerev. And I thought that it would be a good idea to share some of the tips I’ve gathered over time.

IMPORTANT NOTE: As a f2p player, this guide is aimed more towards the other f2p players because I don’t have any experience with paying for games (I’m a minor and my parents would skin me alive if I spend money on otome games). So...I’M SORRY PAYING PLAYERS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

CUT FOR LENGTH

Gacha

-First of all, you’ll want to spin for at least 2 five star cards, because those are going to be a huge help in destiny duels.

-After you have your two 5 stars, only spin for the cards that you really, really want. Avatar gachas are worth more of your tokens.

-You can only really use two cards in destiny duels, but you can have a lot of clothing. It’ll boost your beauty score more.

Destiny Duels

-It’s popular misconception, but intimacy actually has nothing to do with winning or losing battles.

*It can be a somewhat helpful guide to determine how long a player has been playing, but it doesn’t guarantee a win or a draw.

-Look at your opponents’ cards first—make sure that they have at least one card that is a level beneath yours. For example, if you have two four stars, then make sure the opponent has at least one three star.

-If you can’t find an opponent with a card level beneath yours, then look at their avatars and try to estimate their beauty that way.

*So something that I found to be SUPER useful was to go to the avatar shop and get an idea of what clothing in each route looks like. E.g., being able to tell what’s Luka’s normal hairstyle versus his premium hairstyle.

*It also helps differentiate route clothing from event bonuses, because you’re generally going to want to avoid the people who have a lot of event bonuses.

-Also, write down the name of the people who you can beat versus the people who you can’t beat.

*If you can’t find someone who you can beat, then stop doing the 5 duels in a row thing and go through each opponent, one destiny duel at a time.

*I can guarantee you that you will find at least one person who you can beat, even if they don’t look like it.

Intimacy

-You really need to remember to use those intimacy potions.

-Like, check your inventory once every few days to make sure you haven’t just left several potions sitting there.

*I really wish the game could just give us the intimacy directly instead of making us remember to actually use them. Sigh.

*But once you’ve got that covered intimacy checks will be a piece of cake.

Lin

-YOU NEED TO GET 50 FRIENDS ASAP!!! AND THEN GREET THEM EVERY DAY!!!!!

*Once you reach 50 friends, then every time you greet them all, you get 1,000 lin. Coupled with the lin that you get from successfully completing the destiny duels and also the ones from the login bonuses, you can pass every avatar challenge easily, including the one that requires 22,000 lin.

*A lot of people forget to greet friends every day, which is understandable. So something that I tried and really worked out for me is to set a schedule. Like, every time I complete a part in the story, I go and greet all my friends. It just helps greeting become instinctual.

Magic Crystals

-Have a specific goal.

*I mean it. You have to have something that you want to achieve with magic crystals. For me, it’s getting both of Jonah’s birthday event stories when November rolls around (which will cost me 6,400 magic crystals), and I’ve got around 4,500 accumulated.

*It really gives a lot of satisfaction to see yourself working steadily towards your goal, and therefore give you more motivation to play.

*It’s always better to have a goal to work towards rather than spending magic crystals randomly.

- After you’ve set your goal…HOARD THE CRYSTALS. THEY’RE GOING TO BE HUGE HELPS NO MATTER WHAT YOUR GOAL IS.

-And after you’ve reached your goal, look for another one! Some options include:

*Getting all premium attire/unlocking all his side stories for your favorite character’s route (or for all the routes if you’re ambitious.)

*Level up your beauty to twice what it is now.

*Full clear on five different events.

*Save up for buying tokens when an event gacha that you really want rolls around.

*Save up for buying time-limited stories and/or attire.

*Have 50 Jonah chibis in your room.

Events

-Don’t get too invested in the events that you aren’t going to full clear on.

-You should always try, though.

*In story events, you can try to win destiny duels during lucky times to get 2x the amount of lin.

*In collections events, the bonuses are always worth going for.

-Also, save up at least 30 tea and cake sets before attempting full clear. You should also have a healthy amount of magic crystals ready to spend just in case things didn’t work out quite as expected.

*And don’t use those tea and cake sets until you’re at the last lucky time of the event.

*Anything can happen, so it’s better to wait a bit until you use those.

Feel free to leave your owns tips in the comments!

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florenceandthemachine · 3 years

Text

hear your heartbeat

happy birthday to the incomparable @elisela!!! just for you, please enjoy a good fake-dating au with plenty of idiotic and family members abound.

12.5k - on Ao3

—————

“I’m telling you, Scotty. New York has been good to me. Maybe we should just renounce California and stay here for the summer.”

“Don’t joke about that, dude.”

Stiles laughed as he shouldered his phone, taking in the city air as he strolled along the streets of Manhattan.

Needless to say, Manhattan was far from home—while the city certainly was his vibe, Stiles was no stranger to tamping down the champagne tastes that clashed with his tapwater budget. The little shitbox apartment he got through NYU’s housing program was almost a thirty minute train ride from school, but Stiles figured that when he was more or less trapped on campus for nearly fifty hours a week, he could justify spending his breaks wandering the streets of Manhattan and really taking in the city.

On today’s agenda, Stiles was looking forward to wandering around a farmers market that literally stretched on for city blocks. There were fruits and vegetables literally as far as the eye could see, spices and roots and mysterious tubers of all shapes and size, but Stiles didn’t give a flying fuck about the food—his real interest were the vendors and the shoppers.

He had learned early on that open air markets like this were perfect meeting grounds for mythical beasts of all shapes and sizes, so, what better palace for him to do some… field work, so to speak?

There were nymphs who had full bouquets of beautiful flowers that lived suspiciously long in their vases as long as you complimented the blooms on a regular basis. Dryads who sold the most delicious fruit he had ever tasted, even if they charged six bucks for a pear.

Stiles had learned early on to avoid the fae—basically, any stand that sold crystal or metalcraft. His first time at the market, he had somehow wound up spending nearly four hundred dollars on quartz; the moment the money had left his hand, the stall had all but vanished in front of him.

“The people are good here. They’re fast. Blunt. Sarcastic. My kind of people.”

“Uh huh.”

Scott liked to call their whole situation lucky.

When Stiles applied to NYU’s doctorate program, he expected rounds and rounds of interviews, lists of deadlines he needed to memorize, and some less-than-subtle digs at his proposed field of study (which was fair, honestly—he knew that criminology and mythology rarely mixed).

What he didn’t expect was Scott, though, the bro of all bros. When Stiles told him he was applying to NYU, Scott had cheered him on, helped him prepare, and then immediately applied to different veterinary positions through the state.

(Scott was golden, obviously—he had years of training, letters of recommendation from everyone he had ever met, and him being a werewolf basically made him the animal whisperer.)

At the end of the day, Stiles got to pursue his passion thanks to a hodgepodge of grants at NYU, and Scott was awarded a fellowship in veterinary medicine through the Bronx Zoo. What kind of weird twist of luck would let the best friends wind up together across the country like that?

So, yeah, Scott called it luck.

Stiles called it karmic retribution for their supremely fucked-up years at Beacon Hills High, but even he could admit that ‘luck’ sounded nicer... and if Stiles was being honest, ‘luck’ was definitely the best way to classify his meeting Derek Hale.

Derek Hale was smart, he was sarcastic, and he could go toe-to-toe with Stiles over completely obscure things for literal hours. He was a first-year professor at NYU, who had the tiny office right next to the broom closet Stiles had managed to shove PHD desk into, and he was probably the only other person in the program that took mythology seriously (meaning he was the only person who didn’t make Stiles want to put his head through the wall).

He was also hot as fuck, but that was beside the point. Stiles had a little bit of a massive crush, but that was also beside the point.

They had built up a fast friendship based on a series of arguments about the Necronomicon, of all things, and Stiles loved the thought of being friends with someone who didn’t know him as the weird kid in high school who knew way too much about ritual sacrifice and circumcision.

He had evened out a lot through undergrad. He was still awkward, sure, but he was awkward with a refillable prescription for Adderall and some sort of brain-to-mouth filter.

(Honestly, the fact that Stiles had managed to avoid making a single joke about the werewolf who was stuck teaching Mythology 101 really did speak volumes to his newfound maturity.)

Speaking of Derek, though…

“Stiles! Hey, Stiles!”

Stiles almost jumped a foot in the air as he heard his name called, doing a spectacular near-drop-mid-air-catch of his phone as he regained his footing, turning on the spot to see a taller woman with jet black hair waving him over.

She was… okay, she was gorgeous—dark hair, smooth skin, someone who looked like she just stepped out of one of the windows on Fifth Avenue—but Stiles was decently distracted, because standing beside her was Derek Hale, the object of his extremely private affection for the past few months. Who, for whatever reason, was standing there looking like he wanted the sidewalk to open up and swallow him whole.

“Scotty, I’ll see you tonight, yeah? I gotta go.”

Stiles pocketed his phone as he cautiously made his way over to the pair—trio, he corrected, because there was another woman with them, looking incredibly more invested in the conversation now that another party was joining them.

He hiked his canvas a bit higher up as he smiled, trying to remember where he had seen the two before… students, maybe, but if that were the case, they would know Derek, not Stiles. They weren’t faculty members, he was sure of that. Donors to the program, maybe?

Well, if they were donors, Stiles sincerely hoped that Derek would have tried harder to wear literally any expression other than his current ‘bitter and miserable’.

And if they were donors, why were they so fucking happy to see him?

“I’m Laura. This is Cora.”

The taller of the two women extended her hand confidently as Stiles got within arms reach, and he instinctively reached out to take it, Cora following suit. “Derek has told us all about you. I have to say, I figured there was at least a ten percent chance you were made up, but… here you are!”

“Here I am!” Stiles was officially lost, but he kept his smile up, cheeks pinking up a little bit as he turned back to Derek. “You’ve been talking about me?” he asked, his voice on the line between flattered and teasing, nudging Derek playfully as he tilted his head.

“Stiles, I—“

“Of course he has! Derek’s a private guy, sure, but you can’t be surprised he told us about his new—“

“Laura—”

“Lord, Derek, calm down. You already had your big bisexual awakening, I’m allowed to be excited to meet your first boyfriend.” Laura shot back, her glare rivaling Derek’s absolute best ‘listen to teacher’ look, and Stiles could see the muscle in his jaw start to twitch. He probably would have done something, but… he was basically short circuiting, brain trying to keep up with whatever the fuck Laura had said, because Derek now had his arm around Stiles’ waist.

Derek had a big bisexual awakening?

And a boyfriend, apparently?

How had Stiles missed that??

“Stiles, these are my sisters, Laura and Cora Hale.”

Okay, great, they were Derek’s sisters. Stiles didn’t even know that Derek had sisters, which was a little sad if he thought about it.

Thankfully, he didn’t have long to think about it, because Derek—

“This is Stiles, my… my boyfriend. Now stop bombarding him. Give him half a fucking second before you go a thousand miles an hour.”

Oh—oh God. Stiles was the boyfriend.

He had seriously missed something, then—he didn’t think he had confessed his feelings for Derek anytime recently, or he probably would have died from embarrassment. Scott was really good at hiding his phone when he was drinking, which ruled that entire scenario out. Stiles could be forgetful at times, sure, but he thought he would remember if he had managed to score himself a boyfriend.

He looked up at Derek, trying to ignore the sudden burn of contact where their bodies were pressed together, but his brain was extremely focused the moment that he caught the look on Derek’s face, there and gone in a flash. He felt the hand squeeze at his waist, and the message was clear enough.

Please.

Ah, well. Stiles was always good at bullshitting, and this was no exception.

“No, no, Der, it’s fine! It’s good to meet you both, sorry, I wasn’t even expecting to see Derek until… uh, later, let alone meet anyone new,” Stiles said, his voice 100% betraying his nerves as it picked up an octave.

Laura’s voice was much more evenly toned, even if it was a little teasing. “Oh? You two have big plans tonight? We aren’t interrupting anything, are we?” she said with a grin, giving the distinct impression that even if they were interrupting, she and her sister wouldn’t be leaving until they were good and ready. Stiles felt his mind kick into overdrive, waving the question aside.

“Oh, nothing like that. We were going to meet up with my friend Scott for dinner, introducing the boyfriend to the best friend, you know how it is,” he continued, hoping his little chuckle wasn’t too terribly fake as he reached up to pat the lapels of Derek’s jacket, letting his fingers linger a little too long on Derek’s chest as he nodded.

He hoped that she knew how it was. Hell, Stiles didn’t even know how it was. He hadn’t exactly been rolling in romance since moving across the country.

“Well, if you say so,” Laura mused, raising a perfect brow, head tilted to the side. “You look like you’re about to pass out, Stiles. You alright?”

And, okay, Stiles knew enough to know what that meant. It meant that her super-sonic ears could hear his heart trying to break through his ribs with a staccato beat, typically a tell-tale sign that someone was lying, but… maybe he could work that to his advantage. He swallowed, voice a little tight as he laughed, waving the concern away.

“Sorry, I just wasn't… planning on meeting the family today,” Stiles said, probably the most truthful thing he had ever said. “Usually I’d try to prepare a little more, you know, make sure I’m wearing something nice and avoid putting my entire foot in my mouth. Maybe just a toe or two,” he said, relaxing minutely as Cora snorted from her position near Laura’s elbow.

Okay, so self depreciation was a good way to avoid suspicion with all the Hales. Got it.

“Well, if you both have plans, I’ll make this quick,” Laura said, her voice deceptively charming as she sidled up next to Stiles, though he certainly wasn’t going to complain about the way Derek’s hand tightened around his waist. “The semester is up soon, what are your plans this summer? Never mind, move them back. We’re having a family reunion the week after finals, and everyone is dying to meet baby brother Derek’s new boo after all the stories he’s told.”

…stories?

He looked up to Derek again, who was now blushing up to the tips of his ears, which—okay, cute—but which told him absolutely nothing and offered him exactly zero defense.

“Actually, I already have a flight booked as soon as my spring contract is up. Heading back to Beacon Hills for a few days, and—“

“Wait, did Derek already invite you?” Laura asked, her expression pleasantly surprised, and Stiles was speechless for a half second before Derek stepped in.

“No, I didn’t invite him because I’m not even going, Laura. Besides, he has his own plans with his own family,” he said, and Stiles blinked as he tried to keep up. “And what do you mean, they’re excited to meet him? I was very clear that the further I can keep him away from you and Mom, the better.”

Laura only rose a brow as she turned back to Cora, who took a beat before looking up from her phone, her expression halfway guilty as she clutched the device. “I uh—I may have just sent a picture of you two to the family group chat.”

Stiles choked on a laugh as Derek gasped—actually gasped—and pulled his phone from his pocket, making the mistake of releasing Stiles’ shoulder to unlock the device, looking absolutely scandalized as he glared at Cora.

It wasn’t long before Stiles had a similar look on his face, though, as Laura took advantage of his free arm, linking her own with his as she started to walk. “Alright, Stiles, here’s the deal.”

“Cora, you little—hey! Laura, get back here with my boyfriend!”

“Calm down little brother, the adults are talking.”

“He’s younger than I am!”

“So, Stiles, like I was saying,” Laura started, oblivious or ignorant to the way Stiles' mind had absolutely reeled when Derek had called him his boyfriend for the second time. “Derek hasn’t been home for more than a day visit since he moved out to this dump, and no one has raised a stink about it in years. This year, though, is… important,” she started, and Stiles nodded idly as he mentally ran through the calendar in his head.

The semester was over in just over a week, with finals crammed into three days after that, and then—oh, the full moon.

No, Stiles corrected himself, the blue moon. The first blue moon in May in probably… thirty years, if he had to guess. He nodded up to Laura as that clicked into place, a flicker of curiosity crossing over her face as she continued talking.

“We won’t take up that much of your time—it’s only like two events, I promise, and I also promise Derek will personally take care of whatever flight changes you have to make so you can still get some time with your family. After all, it’s not your fault my bonehead brother tried to exclude you until now.”

“I’m not a bonehead!” Derek said, his tone of voice just exasperated enough that Stiles sighed, carefully extracting himself from Laura’s grasp as they slowed to a stop near the curb of Fifth Avenue, the noise from the farmers market blending in with the sound of traffic as he turned back to Derek.

“Alright, hang on, hold up,” Stiles started, his tone firm enough to stop the three wolves in their tracks, Derek and Laura wearing matching expressions of surprise as they stopped in their tracks—even Cora was peeking over her phone, clearly interested, and Stiles couldn’t blame them. It had probably been a long time since either of them had been stopped by a human.

“Laura, Derek is not a bonehead. He’s smart, and he’s sweet, and he’s very kind, and it’s okay that he’s a little more private. Yeah, he’s also a stubborn asshole, but… well, that’s one of the reasons I like him so much,” Stiles said, the first genuine smile in the entire conversation gracing his face as he looked at Derek again. “But you know your brother. Did you really think that catching him off guard across the country in person was going to be the best way to convince him to visit?”

He was fine taking their silence as an answer, honestly.

“Now, Derek, that being said, I… if you are comfortable with it, I can rearrange my plans and come down with you. If you’re not comfortable with that, that’s okay too. Meeting the family—at least, the rest of the family—is a very big step,” he continued, his words very pointed.

(Yes, Derek, meeting the family would be a very big step for someone you weren’t even dating, please pick up on the subliminal messaging here.)

“But even if you’re not comfortable with me being there, I think you should still go down. I’ll get to spend plenty of time with my dad, you shouldn’t have to be all alone up here while I’m gone.”

Moving to smooth over the lapels on Derek’s jacket again, Stiles only barely tampered down a noise of surprise as Derek intercepted his hands, pleasantly shocked by how easily Derek’s warm, smooth fingers slipped between his own lanky digits.

Stiles felt his cheeks pinks up as he cleared his throat, doing his best to act normal, because he was… well, he wasn’t lying. He had absolutely thought about Derek being alone here in New York while Stiles was gone, but that was more in the sense that Stiles would miss him.

He just didn’t know that Derek might be missing some family, too.

Besides, he may not have known that much about the intricacies of a normal, family pack, but Stiles knew enough to know that a big event like this would probably be good for Derek, even if he didn’t want to admit it.

Even if Derek was going to reject his offer and go down alone.

…because Derek was going to reject him.

Derek was going to reject him, right?

Stiles had been fairly sure of that when he offered, but judging by the way Derek couldn’t meet his eyes after something as simple as holding hands, Stiles might have just fucked himself over. Derek opened and closed his mouth twice before he finally let out a huff of air and looked up, doing a remarkably good impression of a guilty animal as he looked at Stiles.

“…you’re sure you don’t mind?”

Fuck.

“Derek, I wouldn’t have offered if I minded,” Stiles said, and that much was at least true—but before he could say anything else, Laura was squealing in his ear, wrapping both of them up in a hug so tight Stiles almost had to remind her that he was human, but he was able to breathe again as the car next to the curb chirped.

“Thank God, Stiles, thank you for getting through to him! Oh, Nana is gonna flip out when she hears who’s coming—Derek, you know you’ve always been her favorite—Stiles, do you have any dietary restrictions? Derek, send me his number, and—no, Cora, you are not driving us back to the airport, move your ass—“

Stiles looked up to Derek, his expression somewhere between bemused and fearful as Laura rambled on, but… well, the apologetic look that Derek had on his face wasn’t much reassurance.

“—and Stiles, you’re going to love Beacon Hills. Bye boys! See you in two weeks!”

Stiles was left, partially shellshocked as Derek’s hand slipped from his own, the need for the facade no longer essential as the shiny silver rental car pulled into traffic.

“… Derek, since when the fuck are you from Beacon Hills?”

—————

“Scotty, stop laughing, this isn’t funny.”

“Dude, are you kidding me? This is hilarious.”

Stiles groaned as he shoved another slice of pizza into his mouth, ignoring the burning sensation that spread across his tongue as he tried to pack as much melted cheese as he could into one bite.

Scott’s apartment had been their go-to for the entire time he and Stiles had been in the city—not because it was huge and glamorous, not by any means, but Scott’s shoebox had a door between the bathroom and the living room, and therefore it was the best place for bro-time by default.

Stiles had loudly complained about the entire situation when he and Derek showed up on Scott’s stoop, firmly planting himself in his favorite of Scott’s chairs—the ‘old man’ recliner next to Scott’s little television, the game on screen forgotten as he recalled their harrowed tale.

“Stiles, if you weren’t comfortable with it, why even… okay, no, don’t you dare answer me until you swallow,” Derek snapped, and Stiles rolled his eyes as he swallowed a few times, sticking his tongue out at Derek once his mouth was empty.

“Good. Thank you for pretending to be an adult. Now, why did you even offer if it wasn’t something you were comfortable with.”

Because it was supposed to just be a gesture, Derek. Because I didn’t realize you would take it as a serious offer, Derek. Because you were supposed to say no, Derek.

… because I didn’t want you to be alone, Derek.

Honestly, as surprised as Stiles was that Derek took him up on his poorly-timed moment of goodness, he was even more surprised that after Laura drove off, when he numbly asked if Derek wanted to come over to Scott’s for some pizza, Derek actually said yes.

Derek Hale was being social. Alert the media.

(Well… maybe ‘social’ was stretching it a bit—Stiles didn’t know if it was a territory thing or what, but Derek had turned hilariously, awkwardly stiff the moment he stepped inside Scott’s apartment.)

“I offered because I’m nice, dick, but don’t even think that you can turn this on me. Derek, they knew my name. They knew what I looked like. And yeah, I mean, I’m a complete catch and all—oh fuck off, Scotty—but what in the actual, literal fuck?”

Stiles didn’t think it was possible, but somehow Derek got even more tense, shoulders tightening up toward his ears as he looked down. It took a moment before he answered, but Stiles knew by then that Derek usually had to… wind himself up to talk about some things.

“My mother lives on the opposite end of the country, and even then, she still managed to set up twenty four blind dates for me last year. Twenty four, Stiles. That’s basically one every other week. Do you have any idea how much small talk that is? And how much I hate small talk?”

Yes, Stiles thought, to both of those questions. He would never admit this out loud, of course, but thinking about one of the most intensely private people that he knew stuck at some shitty little coffee shop trying to chat with some random female on behalf of his mother was hilarious to a degree he couldn’t fathom.

It definitely wasn’t a redirection of his own… personal feelings that may or may not be directed at Derek. Not at all. Nope.

“So, around the time the spring semester started, when my mother let slide that she had passed along my number to yet another perfectly eligible barista, or something, I panicked and told her I had a boyfriend. And then she asked for a photo, and the most recent one on my phone was that selfie you sent miming your own death in the stacks, so…”

“Oh fuck, Derek,” Stiles started, downing the last of his beer. “Your big bisexual awakening wasn’t just you trying to get out of your mom setting you up on dates, right?”

“Don’t flatter yourself, ass,” Derek said, rolling his eyes as he shook his head. “The two events were completely separate.”

Stiles laughed at the thought, but even then, his mind was reeling. If this wasn’t a recent discovery, how in the fuck did Stiles miss that for so long?

“Well, you’re lucky Scotty and I had a flight booked anyway. I won’t let you face them alone, not when you have a picture perfect boyfriend to show off now—what role should I take on? Doting, love struck fool? Rebel without a care? Some sad forlorn loser who… okay, no, that one is too close to home.”

Scott stood up and laughed as Derek glared at Stiles again, but it didn’t take a genius to see the tiny smile on his face, or the way his shoulders eased as he leaned back into the couch.

“Alright, this is getting too intense a conversation while the game is on. Want another beer, Stiles? You, Derek?”

Stiles made a vaguely affirming noise as he wove his hand in Scott’s direction, eyes drawn back to Derek yet again as the other wolf politely declined, his own attention affixed to the television as the game picked back up.

Derek was… not a particularly expressive person, Stiles knew, and part of that was because Derek had what Stiles affectionately called ‘resting grumpy face’; at least, he did privately, because the one time he said it out loud Derek had thrown the Encyclopaedia of Demomorgons at his head.

So, to the outsider looking in, Derek might have just seemed uninterested in the game; but Stiles had been watching Derek work for the better part of a semester, and he knew perfectly well how to tell when Derek’s resting grumpy face formed an actual frown. Which it did. Because apparently, the Mets had personally offended him.

“I’m sorry, are you seriously glaring at the Mets? While they’re winning?”

Derek leveled Stiles with the most unimpressed glare he could as Scott laughed from his kitchen, walking back into the living room with two beers. “God, I hope he was. It would be nice to have someone with taste in the apartment for once.”

“Scotty!” Stiles gasped, clutching his heart as Scott handed him a beer, extending the claw on his thumb to pop the top off before he handed the bottle over. “The Mets are a treasure, okay? If God lived in New York, she’d be a Mets fan. I have suffered much for my Mets in my lifetime, and they—woah, Derek, you okay?”

Stiles’ charming cliches would have to wait, because when he looked over to Derek, his humor dropped immediately. Derek had gone white as a sheet, jaw slack as he stared at the beer in Stiles’ hand.

He stared back and forth between Scott and Derek, trying to figure what the hell had just happened; it wasn’t until he watched Scott pop the top off of his own beer, looking between the two of them, did Stiles put two and two together.

“Derek, you… you had to know that Scott was a were, right? Like, you had to. He—Scotty doesn’t do subtle.”

“Me?! Stiles, you called me a wet dog for like a month after I fell into the Hudson.”

Derek let out a sort of choked noise as he shut his mouth, coming back into himself as a bit of pink dusted his pale cheeks, hands moving in front of his face. “Of—of course I knew, but—you knew?!”

“Dude, I’m studying mythical lore and criminology. I’m the one who taught this furry fucker how to control himself. Of course I knew, I... oh my god. You didn’t know that I knew—uh, that I know.”

Matching looks of realization dawned on Scott and Stiles’ face as Stiles stood up, putting the beer down on the coffee table. He moved next to Derek as he sat down on the couch, keeping his movement slow, reaching out to pat Derek’s leg like he was a frail old lady.

“Derek, I know.”

After what felt like an age and a half, Derek melted into the couch, a huge sigh leaving his lips as all the tension in his body bled out like a string had been cut, burying his head in his hands.

“We’ve had arguments about wolves in pop culture. I’ve offered to help you out with your coursework every full moon for, like, the entire semester. Dude, you had to know that I knew, there’s no way I didn’t—Derek!” Stiles felt his giddy laughter bubble over as Derek shot him a red-eyed glare through his fingers, his scowl somehow less intimidating now that everything was out in the open.

Okay, Derek wasn’t just a wolf, he was an alpha. That was… interesting.

“God, you two really are perfect fake boyfriends. Two halves of a whole idiot. Derek, are you sure you don’t want a beer? Or maybe something stronger, if you have to deal with Stiles?” Scott said easily, laughing as Stiles immediately protested, though the way Stiles eased himself next to Derek wasn’t exactly subtle, either.

—————

Scott may have been joking, but by the time finals had come and gone, Stiles had accepted the fact that he would have to forgo booze and opt for a mainline of caffeine to keep up with Derek. How one person remained so meticulously organized, Stiles would never know—but in the amount of time it took for Stiles to wrap up his grant work for the semester, Derek had given four exams, proctored three more, cleaned out his office, and shared the updated flight itinerary with Stiles.

“Wait, wait, hang on,” Stiles had said, tripping over an empty box in his tiny office as Derek handed him his updated boarding pass. “Why do we have to change our flights? Scott and I are already booked, you can probably just join us, right?”

Derek rose a perfectly sculpted brow as he tapped the ticket again, shaking his head. “Hey, I promised you’d spend as few days as possible with my family, and I intend to keep that promise. The sooner we get in, the sooner we start that clock, the sooner you get to spend the rest your time with your dad.”

Stiles blinked as he looked down to the itinerary, eyes scanning over the earlier time—and it was non-stop too. That would be a bit killer on the legs, but Stiles could handle that, maybe he could take some time to sleep or pester Derek for...

“Uh, Derek... this ticket is for first class.”

“I know, Stiles, I booked it.”

“Dude, there’s a reason Scott and I booked an economy ticket with a layover in Bismarck. There’s no way I can pay you back for this.”

If looks could kill, Stiles would be... maybe not dead, but at least set on fire. Derek sighed, as though the weight of the world was on his shoulders as he rolled his eyes.

“You’re not paying me back, dumbass. You’re already doing a ton for me with this little... charade, the least I can do is make sure your frail human body—“

“Hey!”

”—is comfortable in a lie flat seat.”

“Look, I appreciate that, but I’m not leaving Scott alone on his flight in coach just because of our... fake... whatever.”

Stiles’ voice trailed off in curiosity as Derek sighed, his cheeks pink as he pulled the paper out of Stiles’ hand, pointing to the second half of the sheet—where MCCALL, SCOTT had been printed in big, bold letters, that Stiles had completely ignored.

“... you got Scott a ticket too?”

“Of course I did. He’s your best friend, I wasn’t going to ask you to leave him behind just for me. Besides, who do you think I got your information from to book the flight?” Derek said dryly, as though his deadpan delivery could cancel out the ruddy color to his cheeks, or the way that Stiles’ stomach flip flopped when the reality of that sunk in.

It was nice that Derek acknowledged the importance of their friendship, in the way that tugged at the little space right beneath his sternum, but something about the way Derek so quickly dismissed himself was... concerning.

Stiles couldn’t help but play that little bit of their conversation over in his head as he packed, as he hopped on the train, as he met up with Scott and Derek in security.

Scott, bless his heart, was absolutely elated—his excitement was almost tangible as they dropped off luggage, walked through security, and stood around at the boarding gate. Derek had to smack the both of them to get them to stand up when first class was called to board, and Stiles idly wondered if Derek regretted associating himself with them when he and Scott managed to trip in sync as they went down the jetway.

Derek and Stiles were seated together, of course, and once Stiles got over the novelty of not having a middle seat on a plane, he liked to imagine he fit right in—easing back into the seat, enjoying the comfort of the little blanket he had been given, grinning at the flight attendant as she checked in with them.

(Scott was one row ahead and across the aisle, close enough that Stiles could lean forward and smack him if he wanted to... but the moment Stiles saw his seat mate, a pretty woman with dark hair and impeccable eyeliner, he knew his best bro would be on a different planet for the entirety of the flight.)

His grin slipped a little bit, though, as he thought back to the conversation surrounding the tickets, and he looked up to Derek as he settled in a bit further.

“So, we never went over what role I should be taking on.”

“Stiles, just be yourself. You’re funny enough, and you generally mean well, they’ll love who you are.”

Yeah… who he was. Well, who he was was someone who was going to be dangerously invested in a fake relationship that would probably end terribly for him, so that was fun. He sighed as he settled into the seat, opening and closing his mouth a few times as he debated on where to go from here.

No time like a non stop plane ride to have a potentially awkward conversation, right?

“Dude, we’re friends, right?”

“We’re fake boyfriends, don’t call me dude.”

Derek’s tone was teasing as he flipped through his SkyMall, a small smile on his face, and Stiles felt a little bit of the tension ease out of his shoulders as he buckled in.

“First of all, I have called many boyfriends ‘dude’ before,” Stiles started, ignoring Derek’s snort of laughter, “and I’m being serious. We... we are friends, right?”

Be it his words or his awkward energy, Derek looked up, surprise on his face as he closed the magazine and stowed it away as the plane bumped down the taxiway.

“Of course we are, Stiles. You’re like... the only person I talk to at work outside of teaching, that’s light years ahead of most of New York as a whole.”

“I mean, I’m glad to hear, I just...” Stiles chewed on his lip as he turned in his seat, weirdly soothed by the roar of the engines as the takeoff roll started. “You know about my dad, and about my school, and about Scott, and those are basically the three important things in my life,” he started, letting out a sigh as Derek just stared at him blankly.

“It’s fine that you’re a private person, I can respect that... seriously, I may not understand it, but I can respect it,” Stiles said, grinning as Derek shot him a look, lowering his voice again as he leaned over the divider between them. “But I didn’t know that you were from my hometown, too. Or that you had sisters, let alone other family. I should have asked, I guess, but... you know you can talk to me about things, yeah? Even after all this is over, you’ll always be Derek to me. Not just another Hale.”

Stiles’ was smiling as he gently bumped Derek’s shoulder with his own, watching the way different emotions warred over his face, biting back on the urge to babble on so he could give Derek the time he needed to respond.

“We’re... we are friends, Stiles. We are.” Derek insisted, looking down to his linked hands as the plane continued to rise. “Sometimes, I just... I’m not great about talking about myself.”

For a while, Stiles thought that was all he was going to get, and honestly, he was fine with it—it wasn’t until the fasten seatbelt sign chimed off and the flight attendants passed out little bottles of water that Derek spoke again, his voice low as he cleared his throat.

“My family is huge. Like, big enough that we need spreadsheets and flowcharts to organize family events like this. I know they love me, and I love them too, of course I do, but I made some really, really stupid decisions when I was younger… I know they forgave me for it, but...”

Derek sighed, taking a deep breath as he ran his hands through his hair.

“Sometimes it’s hard to be around them and still be okay with myself, you know?”

No, Stiles didn’t know. He only had his dad and Scott growing up, but he nodded his head encouragingly as he took a sip of his water.

“I actually have four siblings. Mark is the oldest, and then Taylor, and I’m right between Laura and Cora. They’re betas, like my dad; my mom and I are both alphas, her mom, too…” Derek continued, and Stiles smiled as he settled into his seat.

By the time the flight landed, Stiles’ head was full to the brim with Hale family trivia, names, faces, teasing stories, and the warmth that had danced across Stiles’ chest for the past year or so had bloomed into a full-on fire.

Would it lead to his downfall? Probably.

But when he saw how Derek smiled when he remembered Mark’s graduating medical school, or heard the pride in his voice when he talked about Laura’s charity work, and the genuine joy he got to see when he heard another story about Derek’s childhood… well, that was all more than worth it.

—————

“I think you should kiss me.”

Stiles had to stop himself from laughing at the look that Derek shot him, doing his best to keep his body language casual as he leaned against the gas pump at a tiny station outside of Beacon Hills, though he knew his heart was going at about a million miles a minute.

“I—you—what?”

“Derek, I’m an affectionate dude, in case you couldn’t tell from all the hand holding. And if you’re going to freak out if I kiss your cheek, then you should freak out now, not when we’re in front of your family.”

Stiles knew full well his heart betrayed his confidence, but seeing Derek’s ears go pink as he dumped the armful of snacks Stiles had asked for into the back seat was a welcome sight—it was always nice to know that Derek’s cool and controlled exterior could be ruffled up once in a while.

Somewhere between the rental kiosk and the gas station, Stiles had decided that he was going to go all in on this. His little crush was already stuck right in the back of his throat and would be unlikely to dislodge any time soon, so he figured that indulging himself in the fake relationship Derek had set up for him… well, it wouldn’t do any good, but it was unlikely to make things worse for him than it already was.

It was a little weird being alone with Derek—Stiles didn’t realize it until now, but between meeting Derek’s sisters and meeting the rest of their family, this was the first time they had been alone together. They had other staff members at school, or strangers around the city, or Scott (who had politely declined a ride back to Beacon Hills with Derek and Stiles, choosing instead to split an Uber with his pretty new friend, Kira).

“You know, as far as first kisses go, usually they’re a little more romantic than just a demand. You’re supposed to woo me, Stiles,” Derek said, his sarcastic tone betrayed by his shy little smile as he pulled the nozzle out of his tank, closing the gas cap as Stiles gasped in mock offense.

“Hey, I said you should kiss me, not the other way around. Why should I have to be the one to woo?” Stiles started, sliding into the passenger’s seat as Derek followed suit. “After all, this relationship wouldn’t have even happened without your instigation, so why should I… uh… Der?”

Stiles’ voice trailed off as Derek’s hand sunk into the soft crook at the juncture of his neck, effectively cutting off his entire train of thought as Derek’s thumb pressed against the hollow of his jaw.

“Stiles.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m going to kiss you now.”

“O-Okay.”

For a minute, all Stiles could think of were those cheesy old rom-coms, where fireworks would go off, or bells would chime, but kissing Derek was nothing like that. It was the comfort of wrapping yourself in an electric blanket, instead of the shock of jumping into a frozen pond; the familiar buzz of goosebumps over his skin over a bolt of lightning. He felt a surprised little noise leave his chest as Derek’s tilted his head to deepen the kiss, his tongue flicking out instinctively to drag along Derek’s bottom lip, hands coming up to rest against the wolves chest.

Stiles could feel his heart beating through every inch of his skin as the kiss broke, struggling to remind himself how to breathe as he opened his eyes again, his nose brushing against Derek’s as he let out a little huff of a laugh.

“Was that enough woo for you?” Derek asked, his voice barely more than a whisper, and Stiles smiled as he nodded his head, savoring the way that neither of them moved back. Derek’s hand was warm against the crook of his jaw, his own palm flat against Derek's chest, and it was natural, it was so nice, it was—

Fake. It was all fake.

Stiles sighed, closing his eyes as he gently leaned in and pressed their foreheads together, that mantra playing through his head as he pulled himself back. He buckled himself in easily as he took in a deep breath, his goofy grin still in place as he looked back up to Derek.

“See? Now you can honestly tell your mom we had our first kiss at a gas station and that it was magical and I totally rocked your world.”

“Is that what happened, though? I mean, if you wanted me to kiss you so badly, you should have just asked,” Derek said, the sarcasm thick in his voice as he started the car, and Stiles laughed as they pulled out of the lot, his hand finding Derek’s easily once again.

Their silence remained comfortable as they left the city skyline behind and basically blew through Beacon Hills, the trees inching closer to the road as they wound through the preserve.

Finishing off a bag of M&M’s, Stiles cleared his throat as he crumpled up the wrapper and chucked it in the back seat, sucking a little bit of melted chocolate off of his thumb. “So. Is this regular introducing-the-boyfriend-to-the-family nerves I’m looking at here, or is this introducing-the-fake-boyfriend-to-the-family nerves? You don’t have any weirdos in your family, do you? An ex-felon auntie? A cousin who doesn’t quite get personal space?”

Stiles grinned as Derek laughed, oddly comforted by the sound as Derek shook his head. “Nothing exciting. A weird uncle, I guess. Lots of cousins, you should basically abandon any idea of personal space as soon as we walk in, and plenty of human family, too—so you won’t be alone in that. As far as felons go, well… none of us have been caught?”

“Hey, game recognizes game, it doesn’t count if you don’t get caught. And I can work with a weird uncle.” Stiles laughed at the sheepish look that Derek shot his way, his fingers still happily wrapped up in Derek’s warm hands. He could almost feel it when they crossed over onto the Hale land, the huge, white house as much of a giveaway as the shrieks of joy that even Stiles could hear from the property.

“They’re gonna love you, you know?” Derek’s voice was soft as he pulled the rental into a long row of cars, nearly lining the road leading up to the house, and Stiles felt the snarky remark die on his tongue as Derek caught his eye, his expression somewhere between grateful and wistful as he turned the car off.

“Maybe, but…” Stiles sighed as he popped his door open, chewing over his next words carefully. “But if they do, it’s because they already love you.”

He took it as a personal victory when Derek turned away, his ears pink again, and Stiles couldn’t help but grin as he followed the werewolf up the path to his family home.

The Hale House was probably as huge and impressive as the Hale family itself from the outside, and Stiles did his best not to gape like a fool as Derek opened the door for him, his hand finding the small of Stiles’ back as they stepped into the house. Polished floors, huge, high windows, a grand staircase that was the definition of grand, and—

“Derek!”

—and another unfairly attractive Hale moving forward to greet them. Tall, broad, dark hair with just a splash of salt around the temples and the goatee, shining a million watt smile on Derek and Stiles as he wiped his hands on his probably-uncomfortably-tight jeans.

Jesus, was everyone in this family gorgeous? Stiles was going to get a complex.

He looked up as the stranger and Derek briefly hugged, watching the halfway-subtle way they scented one another, Mark’s head buried in Derek’s neck for a half moment before they pulled away. If Stiles strained his ear, he could have heard something along the lines of ‘be nice’ as Derek pulled back; if the situation weren’t so funny, Stiles probably would have blushed.

“Don’t listen to him, I’m always nice. I’m Mark, and you…” Mark started, his million watt smile back in place as his eyes dragged over Stiles’ body, “... you must be Stiles.” Stiles snorted as Mark pulled him into an easy hug, catching Stiles just a little off-guard as he was wrapped in another pair of arms.

Apparently Derek’s family was an affectionate bunch. Stiles didn’t know if it was a wolf thing or a Hale thing, but either way, it was good to know.

“Mark, uh, Seattle, right? You’re the surgeon?” Stiles asked, clearing his throat as the hug carried on just a bit too long, regaining some footing in the introduction as he pulled back. “Derek’s told me a lot about you.”

That was… mostly true, Derek had told him enough about Mark to thoroughly embarrass the older male, and Mark looked like he expected nothing less as he laughed, holding Stiles’ shoulders as he stood at arms length. “Yeah, I’m sure he did, but it’s probably all garbage. After all, how can you really describe a wonder like me in words, huh?”

He actually winked, and Stiles honestly couldn’t believe that this dude was for real.

“Der, nice job with this one. He’s cute. Kid, is my brother treating you well? Cause, you know, if Hale is your taste, you can do much better than—”

”Mark—“

“Oh, lighten up Der-bear, there isn’t enough Botox in the world to get rid of those scowl lines. It was a joke. Now come on, everyone’s out back.”

Stiles laughed again as Mark put Derek in an easy headlock, ruffling up his hair as he led them outside, immediately filing ‘Der-bear’ away for future use as they stepped out into the backyard.

The backyard, which was absolutely filled with Hales.

He felt his heart do a funny little lurch as he was hit with the sheer family of it all—all dark haired, all gorgeous, and for just a moment, he wanted to smack Derek upside the head. There were probably generations of Hales here; Derek had all this family, this built in support group, and he was just going to spend the summer holed up in New York?

“Alright, Siles, we’re gonna keep you in with the main family and keep you away from the cousins,” Mark started, artfully ignoring the way Derek was swatting at him. “Uncle Peter all but insisted that Mom come pick him up, so you’ll get to avoid them until later tonight, but who you really want to watch out for is—“

“Is that my grandbaby?!”

Mark stiffened as Derek perked up, and Stiles couldn’t help but snicker as a bony hand shot up, grabbing Mark by the scruff of his neck, pulling him off of Derek with a flourish that would probably seem overly dramatic if Stiles didn’t know just how much werewolf strength was packed behind it.

“Derek!”

“Hi, Nana.”

Stiles couldn’t keep the smile off of his face as Derek leaned in to wrap his arms around the older woman—she was a good foot shorter than he was, her movements loud, with light skinned with the same tell-tale black hair that the rest of the family had. What caught Stiles’ eye, though, was the way Derek scented her—it was the same way Mark scented him, a familial nudge that Stiles read easily as a sign of deference.

Whoever this Nana was, she was clearly the woman in charge here.

“You know, we’re all technically her grandbabies,” Mark started as he reappeared at Stiles’ shoulder, rubbing the back of his neck, his childish pout painfully obvious as he pointed his words. “But you wouldn’t know it with the blatant favoritism she shows for Derek!”

“Mark, don’t be such a baby,” Nana Hale said as she pulled back from Derek’s hug, patting his cheek affectionately. She raised a brow in a spectacularly unimpressed fashion as she turned to look at her eldest grandson, sighing in mock disappointment. “Not that I thought a career based off of liposuction and face lifts would have brought you some maturity.”

“That’s—I don’t just do—Nana!”

“Now, who do we have here? Derek, are you going to introduce me to your special friend?”

Ignoring Mark’s protests easily as she turned her attention, Stiles felt his heart pick up again, his eyes flicking to Derek as he beamed; Stiles wasn’t sure if he was happy to see Mark get smacked down, or if he was happy to introduce Stiles, but Stiles would have literally killed a man to see Derek smile that brightly on a regular basis.

“Nana, this is my boyfriend, Stiles Stilinski. Stiles, this is my grandmother, Ger—“

“Nana Hale will do just fine, thank you very much,” she interrupted, pulling a face that made Stiles grin—he could absolutely relate to someone who would rather set their birth name on fire than own up to it. “Now, come here, let me get a look at you.”

Stiles stepped forward and hesitated a half moment, not sure if he should try one last time for a handshake or wait for her to initiate a hug, but before he could make up his mind she had her hands clasped on his elbows, a grip like iron stopping him in his tracks.

“Scrawny little thing, aren’t you? We’ll take care of that, don’t you worry. It’s good to meet you, sweetheart, let’s get you some food.”

“It’s good to meet you too—and some food sounds great,” Stiles said with a laugh, ignoring the fact that he was still full of junk food as Nana Hale all but preened beside him. Her grip was gentle but unyielding as she dragged him to a table that was piled with food, giving a half wave to Laura and Cora, who were stationed beside a punch bowl the size of a fish tank as he kept himself a half step behind Nana.

Stiles wasn’t dumb, okay? He knew how to make nice with wolves, and more importantly, he knew how to be subtle.

(He didn’t like it, but he knew how to do it.)

“Uncle Derek! Get Uncle Derek!!”

Thankfully, the moment was over in a flash as Stiles heard a familiar name called out in a high pitched squeal, looking back out to the yard where a hoard of kids had just caught sight (or scent?) of Derek, immediately abandoning the rough-and-tumble games they seemed to be wrapped up in to run toward Derek as fast as their little legs could carry them.

Derek immediately tensed, a manic grin on his face as he prepared to run, body twitching as he caught himself before taking off. He sent a look Stiles’ way that was somehow both apologetic and asking remission, and Stiles sighed as he smiled.

“You better run, Uncle Derek. They’re gonna get you,” Stiles said mock-seriously, only barely keeping a straight face as Derek instead ran straight to the kids, making all sorts of comedic noises as they mobbed his legs.

Fuck, he was cute.

Stiles’ attention was pulled off of Derek as he felt eyes on him, subtly scanning the yard before he made eye contact with another adult in the family, who was very shirtless, and very sweaty, and very much walking toward them with a bright smile on his face.

Okay, Stiles was definitely getting a complex.

“You must be Stiles!” he exclaimed once he was closer to their little group, and Stiles had never been as thankful for a child as he was for the tiny body perched on top of the other males shoulders, because he was just about at his ‘hugging gorgeous people’ limit. He was still sweating, for fucks sake, but Stiles supposed that even a wolf got tired out when they had eight kids hanging from their body until Uncle Derek stepped in.

“I am, and…” Stiles was about to assume this was the firefighter sibling, but as soon as he opened his mouth, the kid on top of his shoulders smiled, and Stiles was absolutely smitten. “And who is this little guy?”

The distraction was apparently a welcome one, because shirtless dude’s smile grew even wider, reaching up to pat the kid on a mop of curly hair before he lifted him up and over, holding him at chest level. “This is Isaac. Isaac, can you say hi to Stiles? He’s your uncle Derek’s special friend.”

Stiles literally felt his heart melt as Isaac gave a shy little wave, looking up at him with big blue eyes. He couldn’t have been older than three or four, and Stiles smiled and waved back as Isaac was set down on the ground.

“You wanna go play with Uncle D?” Any hint of shyness was forgotten the moment the question was asked, taking off toward Derek as fast as his little legs could carry him, which… wasn’t very fast, but was very, very cute.

“They all yours?” Stiles asked, raising an eyebrow as he looked over to Derek, who now had at least six kids hanging off of him. He smiled as the other male shivered, shaking his head quickly.

“God no, just the three. Erica and Boyd, and Isaac too, now that the adoption has been finalized. Those kids basically run the joint, Derek included—as long as you don’t mind the occasional toddler mobbing, you’ll fit in just fine.”

“Thanks, random shirtless man, I really hope so.”

Stiles grinned as Laura choked on a mouthful of punch, the weirdness of the situation apparently just now visible to her as she sputtered, punching her brother in the arm. “Oh god, Taylor, what is wrong with you! Go put on a shirt, you can’t just—you didn’t even introduce yourself, I swear—Stiles is a guest, you weirdo!”

They kept bickering back and forth as Taylor pulled an undershirt on over his head, the whining turning into background noise as he poured himself a glass of punch. He knew perfectly well what Laura was trying to say—Stiles is a human—and he was pretty sure he was mostly flattered by everyone trying so hard, but any coherent thought left his head as he took a bite of the ribs, watching Nana Hale grin out of the corner of his eyes as he groaned in delight.

“God, they really do have Derek wrapped around their pudgy fingers,” Cora mused, and Stiles nodded his head, swallowing. It was honestly hilarious to watch Derek try to manage all those kids by himself; they seemed determined to pile themselves onto his head and shoulders, and he could almost see Derek sweat, trying to make sure he didn’t drop anyone as Isaac managed to wriggle his way into Derek’s grip.

He tilted his head in consideration, taking a sip of his drink before he spoke up.

“Yeah, he always did strike me as that kind of Alpha.”

He couldn’t help but savor the way the conversation ground to a halt around him, Laura and Taylor both sucking in a deep breath as Mark shattered the glass he was holding. There probably was a better way to acknowledge that he was in on the secret, but as funny as it was watching Derek’s siblings tiptoe around the fact, he figured it was best to rip the bandaid off in one go.

Even if it meant he had the attention of the Hales closest to him in one second, flat, Nana’s burning red from where she stood with a plate piled high with food.

He probably should have been nervous, but as he looked back at Derek, he could tell it was the right choice—Derek was all smiles, waiting only a beat before he popped his fangs and playfully snapped at one of his little nieces, the air soon full of squealing laughter once again.

Keeping his gaze even, Stiles smiled in thanks as he took the plate of food Nana offered to him, watching as her eyes melted back into their darker, human color. She was staring at him like he was a particularly complex puzzle, and she wasn’t alone—Cora looked hilariously outraged that she didn’t realize sooner, and even Mark was looking over him with renewed interest as his hand healed.

“I knew you were a smart boy. He told you?”

Nana’s question was accusing, but not unkind, and Stiles shrugged it off easily as he popped a chip into his mouth.

“He didn’t have to. My best friend was bitten when we were both fifteen. He didn’t have… anything, no alpha, no pack, just me and my mad Googling skills, and we’ve had plenty of supernatural run-ins over the years. Derek didn’t tell me because he didn’t have to tell me—I’m not anything special, but I’d like to think I can spot a non-human from at least fifty feet. Maybe more on a good day.”

“Well, that’s where you’re wrong.”

Stiles jumped as he heard Derek’s voice from behind him, and it truly was a credit to his poise and sophistication that he only blushed a little as Derek’s arm snaked around his waist. His body was warm, far warmer than it had been ten minutes ago, and Derek’s breath came a little heavy as he kissed the back of Stiles’ head.

“You are definitely something special.”

“You—you absolute cheeseball, what is wrong with you—” Stiles managed to get out as he shoved at Derek’s shoulder, his entire face burning red as Laura and Cora both gagged. Any residual awkwardness melted away as Nana’s sharp laugh cut through the air, the sound putting him back at ease as he leaned back into Derek’s warmth.

Somewhere between the fortieth round of storytelling and the gathering moving back into the house, Stiles needed a breather. Derek’s family was huge, and loud, and honestly, Stiles loved it—but it wasn’t long before he felt an itch beneath his skin, his fingers buzzing against his thigh, the muscles in his jaw a little too tight.

Stiles had expected Derek to be pretty popular in the family—what he didn’t expect, though, was that he would be anything more than an introduction and the same polite questions that everyone gave the new boyfriend.

“Wait, no fucking way did the two of you take down a Kanima, Stiles, I’m calling bullshit right now—“

Derek’s siblings were great, but they were also the worst; the minute they found out that Stiles had his own supernatural background, they were pestering him for stories, demanding his opinion of things, getting more and more exasperated with his entire life the more he shared.

Stiles knew that his life was crazy, okay? He didn’t need the constant reminders or the slack-jawed shocked expressions to reinforce that fact.

“Jesus, we didn’t even know that there were any wendigos in the state, and you knew an entire family of them?”

The only stories he flat out refused to talk about were the… issues he had had with hunters through high school—this was a party, after all, and he didn’t want to be the one to bring the vibe down by talking about the one time an assassin held a gun to his head to try and draw Scott out.

Fun times.

“What do you mean, you just know a banshee? And set her up with a hellhound? Dude, who are you?!”

Kissing Derek had, oddly enough, only exasperated the situation. In less than a day, they had gotten better at trading little affections back and forth; but instead of helping Stiles calm down, they only increased that thrumming nerves that bounced around at the base of his skull.

Which sucked, honestly, because kissing Derek was… really, really nice.

Stiles waited until another cousin who’s name he would never remember caught Derek up in a conversation about another tradition he couldn’t follow before he squeezed Derek’s hand, taking the opportunity to stand up from his spot on the couch and slip away.

The Hale House was huge, and outside was no exception; Stiles soon found himself on the porch, a huge wraparound wooden structure with built-in benches that let you enjoy the kind of view that made Stiles remember why he loved home so much. He treated himself to a few pictures of the sunset over Beacon Canyon before he flopped himself down on a bench, rubbing at his neck.

“Stiles? Everything alright?”

He had half expected Derek to follow him out after a few moments—but to his surprise, it was Nana Hale that sat beside him, her cheeks still pink with laughter as she tucked a jet black flyaway behind an ear.

“Is—oh, no, it’s great! Just wanted to, uh, snap a few pictures of the view.”

Another half truth—he was full to bursting with those lately.

“I know that our family can be… a little overwhelming,” she said, her tone even as she rose a brow, keeping her gaze forward as her fingers drummed a pattern into her knee.

Stiles hummed in agreement, his own smile a touch more genuine as he looked over to her. “Maybe, but that’s not a bad thing. When I was growing up, I spent so much time wondering what it would be like, to have siblings, and cousins, and… well, it might be a lot, but it’s a lot of love, too. I’m really glad Derek has that kind of support.”

Nana’s fingers stilled against her knee as she turned to face Stiles, and for the first time, Stiles was really able to get a good look at her properly. He could understand why she was the matriarch of the family, and how she had kept that title so long; even if he hadn’t witnessed her taking Mark down less than four hours ago, there was a whole other kind of strength that she was showing here, radiating off of her in waves.

“He does. But he doesn’t just have us for love and support... or was I reading the way you look at him wrong?” Her tone was teasing as she rose her brow, and Stiles felt his cheeks pink up spectacularly as he coughed, his eyes flashing back to the window for only a moment before Nana patted his knee.

“Don’t worry, the house is completely soundproof. Those nosy little pups can’t hear a word we say. Now tell me, how long have you been in love with my grandson?”

Now fully, beautifully red, Stiles groaned as he hid his face in his hands, Nana’s laughter ringing strong and clear as she stood up and walked toward the railing. “Oh don’t be so dramatic, I have no intention of spoiling that surprise until you’re ready to really woo him with it. And you’d better woo him! You know as well as I do that he deserves the romancing.”

Her tone softened as she chuckled, trailing off with a sigh and a sort of wistful smile as she shook her head. “New York has been good to him. You have, too, I think. California was… a rough part in his life.”

Something in the way she phrased it got the investigative side of his brain thrumming, his curiosity piqued as he remembered what Derek said on the plane.

‘I know they forgave me, but… sometimes it’s hard to be around them and still be okay with myself, you know?’

The nosy part of him wanted to pry, to dig a little more, but his eyes flicked back to the window again, where Derek and all four of his siblings were doing a terrible job at acting like they weren't trying to stare him down.

“Whatever it is, I’m sure he’ll tell me when he’s ready.”

Apparently, that was the right answer—Nana’s face softened again as she smiled, nodding her head, beckoning Stiles into standing up. She put her hand in the crook of his elbow easily, steering them back toward the house in a way that allowed no room for compromise.

“You are going to be good for my Der-bear, I know it.”

“Oh, I mean, I hope so. Derek deserves that, and I definitely—“

“Just let him be good for you, too.”

She reached up and patted Stiles cheek as he stared at her, dumbfounded, automatically opening the door for her as she walked back into the house. His expression was mirrored in the matching expressions of slack-jawed shock from all five Hale siblings, all staring at Stiles as Nana started in on another family story that would be sure to embarrass Mark, or Laura, or anyone who wasn’t Derek.

He meant what he said, of course. Derek deserved someone who would be good for him.

Somehow, that was the problem here.

—————

“Stiles, you reek of nerves. All I can smell is nerves and bell peppers. It’s not a good smell. Are you going to tell me what you’re freaking out about, or what?”

Stiles jolted as Derek called him out so effortlessly, pulled out of the trance he had fallen into as he watched Derek work, pushing around some of the barbecue from the night prior with some fresh chopped veggies into a delightful spur of the moment stir fry.

Derek was also as dressed down as Stiles had ever seen him, in a light grey henley and a dark pair of jeans, and that was even more delightful than the stir fry.

“Wait, you—that’s just something you can do? Oh god, your entire family must have known how nervous I was yesterday, did they—“

“Stiles. Breathe.”

Right. Breathing. He could do that.

…. maybe.

The truth was, Stiles could honestly say that he was having a great time back in Beacon Hills.

Derek and his family were great, no lie, and fake relationship aside, the researcher in him was absolutely thriving seeing how a huge, well-established pack worked with one another. They were literally a well oiled machine, the personification of the old ‘it takes a village’ metaphor, and the only thing that amazed Stiles more than how well they worked together was how well they adapted to Stiles being there.

Of course, he thought a big part of that came from having the Alphas on his side—not just Derek, but Nana too.

(“I can’t believe she hugged you,” Laura had hissed after yet another glass of infused punch. “When she met my last boyfriend, she threw him off the porch.”

“Well, Stiles is a fragile little human,” Taylor had snorted, ignoring the way Stiles smacked his arm, “and Hank was a major, prolapsed asshole.”

“Well yeah, but that’s not the point!”)

As great as Derek and his family was though, getting to come home and surprise his dad early… well, there was no place on the planet he would rather be than wrapped in a signature Stilinski hug, the kind of hug where you held on just a little longer than you needed to so you can pretend you definitely weren’t crying.

He got to watch a game with his dad, he got to sleep in his old, lumpy-ass childhood bed, he got to make breakfast in his mom’s kitchen.

So yeah. Great time.

Or at least, it had been, until a text rolled through after he kissed his dad goodbye that morning.

der-bear: Do you want to come over for lunch? Nana has everyone out of the house, Mom and Uncle Peter showed up this morning and he’s already driving everyone crazy.

sent: sure man. want me to bring anything? :)

der-bear: Don’t worry about it. Besides, I figure we should talk before the bonfire anyway.

And just like that, something brought around a cloud to rain on Stiles’ parade.

“Is it about tonight?” Derek asked, and if Stiles’ hadn’t been so laser focused on his cooking technique (his arms, okay, he was staring at Derek’s arms) he probably would have missed the way Derek hesitated when he asked, like he was afraid of the answer.

He picked himself up off of the barstool at the island in their gigantic kitchen, leaning against the counter closer to Derek, reaching in to pluck a chunk of onion out of the pan, skillfully avoiding the swat from Derek’s wooden spoon. “What do you mean?”

“Well, you… You know we’re looking forward to having you with us, right?” Derek asked, spooning some of the food onto two separate plates, using his claws to rip two fresh chunks of bread off of a loaf. “But if you don’t… I mean, I just don’t want you to feel like you have to be there if you don’t want to.”

Stiles frowned as he accepted one of the plates, pulling the smaller chunk of bread off of one of Derek’s claws, mulling his next words over. “As long as you want me there I’ll be there,” Stiles said slowly, because there really was no way to politely say that Stiles would rather throw himself into the sun before his mythical lore studying ass missed out on observing pack activity on a blue moon.

“Why would you think I didn’t want you there?” Derek asked, looking like he was offended at the very notion, sliding a fork to Stiles as he sat down at the countertop, that offended look only growing as Stiles snorted.

“I dunno, I thought you might have changed your mind about it. Dude, you sent me a ‘we should talk’ text. I’m no expert, but I know that nothing good follows a ‘we should talk’ text,” Stiles said around a mouth full of bread, but any degree of playful levity he had gone for was sapped out of his voice the moment he saw Derek look back down at his plate.

“That, uh. I do think we should talk, but not about that. Stiles, I...”

Ah, fuck. Derek’s ears were pink again, and for once, Stiles thought that was a bad thing.

Stiles did his best not to panic as he thought through things, wondering what he had fucked up, because he just knew he had fucked up a little something. Maybe he had come on a little too strong last night, maybe he had gotten too comfortable with his crush, maybe—

“I was thinking that maybe… we shouldn’t be faking this anymore.”

—or maybe, he had fucked up a whole lot of everything.

Stiles felt his heart sink through his shoes as he swallowed his bread, his appetite suddenly gone. He brushed his hands on his jeans, giving a few short nods, swallowing again as he pushed back from the table a little bit. He thought for a moment that he should argue against it, but Derek had a sad puppy expression splashed across his face, and Stiles wasn’t strong against that on a good day.

“Oh.”

He could feel Derek’s eyes tracking him as he started to move, standing up and starting an easy track around the kitchen, flexing his fingers before he rubbed his palm with his thumbs, an old habit he had thought he had kicked back when he graduated from Berkeley.

“I think, uh, maybe you should wait until you’re back in New York to tell your family?” Stiles started, missing the tiny smile on Derek’s face before it melted into a look of confusion. “You should tell them I broke up with you, not the other way around, I don’t mind being the bad guy,” he added, staring down at his hands.

“Wait, Stiles—“

“No, seriously, it’s fine,” Stiles interrupted, putting a smile back on his face, because he knew this was going to be coming at some point. Derek had made up their entire relationship, and Stiles had worked hard to remember that the reality of it was… that it wasn’t reality. He was the one with the inconvenient crush, he was the one who had gotten stupid. This was all on him, and taking the high road to bow out gracefully would be too.

Or, at least, it should have been. But Derek had abandoned his seat as well, halfway following Stiles in his trail around the kitchen, putting his arm out against a countertop to stop Stiles at a turn.

“I said I wanted to stop faking, Stiles.”

Hell, when had Derek gotten so close to him? Stiles blinked as he backed up against the counter, Derek’s arms closing him in, and suddenly he was getting an up close and personal look at Derek’s lips, and his eyes, and the way the blush was going back up his ears, and—

...why was Derek blushing?

“I never said anything about wanting you to leave.”

But why would Stiles be staying if… oh. Oh.

Realization dawned on Stiles’ face as Derek blushed and looked down, moving his hands a little bit closer against the counter, and Stiles felt a shiver run down his spine as he felt Derek’s thumb settle right along his hip. He had to clear his throat before he could speak, swallowing down the hope that was threatening to bubble over, chewing on his lip as he put one hand on Derek’s chest, the other gently tipping his head back to look him in the eye.

“Dude, if you’re saying what I think you’re saying, you gotta spell it out, I’ve had a crush on you for like forever and if I’m mis-reading this—”

“I told you. I’m your boyfriend, don’t call me dude.”

Stiles laughed again, elation making him feel light and giddy, finally breaking eye contact with Derek as he felt his own blush burn through the back of his neck.

“Stay, Stiles. You belong here. With me.”

Rather than even try to form a coherent response, Stiles dropped one of his hands, cheeks still a ruddy color as he looped a finger into one of the belt loops on Derek’s designer jeans, pulling him just that much closer.

“Derek?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m going to kiss you now.”

“Oh, thank God—"

—————

Yeah, Stiles thought hours later, still feeling the warmth of Derek’s smile against his lips as howls sounded off around the Hale House, moonlight swirling around him from the vantage point he had on the porch.

This was exactly where he belonged.

#teen wolf #sterek #stiles stilinski #derek hale #hale family #teen wolf fic #fake dating #everyone lives #two halves of a whole idiot #this is actually my first sterek fic ever lmao HOW WILD

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