#maybe i should scan it next time but i don't know how will the colours come out

[thirstyshaman]

i don't even watch grian but i had to do this

#my art #hermitcraft #grian #mcyt #mcyt fanart #hermitcraft fanart #grian fanart #the quality is so bad #maybe i should scan it next time but i don't know how will the colours come out #anyways wrinkly grian

[runningfrom2am]

cold nights // part nineteen

summary: you showed him colours he knows he can't see with anyone else.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 3.3k

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: tribute!reader and mentor!coriolanus, r is very sweet (too kind for this world. literally.), sunshine x grumpy trope kinda, he falls first, violence typical for the source material, depictions of mental illness, also she's is very smart (as she should), district twelve!reader.

a/n: i'm sorry it took me so long to post this omg i am behind on writing bc i'm so sick but i'm also trying to get ahead on requiem BUT-

Important Announcement!!:

cold nights will officially have a season 3! i wasn't sure but i had a good idea for what the epilogue would be and then i realized it would be so much better as another fully developed idea. so, that will be coming soon!!

my asks are also open to talk about this series! (i do have emoji anons open now too!)

send me any and all of your thoughts! here!

series masterlist // playlist

Coryo smiles as you run up ahead of him, picking up his pace slightly and dropping his bag next to yours.

Some of the others are already stripped down to their bathing suits and running down the dock. It is beautiful here, not that he ever doubted you.

He watches as you peel off your dress, another short one similar to the one you had worn for most of the time he'd known you. This one wasn't sewn in at the middle, so you can slip it quickly over your head. Your bathing suit must have been homemade, too, and it allowed him to see how the bruises and scratches on your back were all but healed while you toss your dress to the ground. He notices quickly that it was exactly the same as Lucy Gray's, maybe your mother had made you matching ones. That's so sweet.

Your skin looked so beautifully soft- just like it should have the first time he saw it, spare for the scars on your calf and your arm, it was just what he imagined.

You kick your shoes off, and the wood of the dock is hot against your bare feet as you run down to the end, diving head-first off to the side to avoid jumping right onto any of your friends.

It seemed to Coryo that you weren't afraid anymore as you briefly looked back at him while you were running. The excited scream you let out when you lept from the dock made his heart flutter. This is exactly what he had wanted, from the very beginning.

When Coryo jumps in behind you, you can hear his shout and feel the water shift around you as his body breaks the surface. You turn under the water, its clarity allowing you to see where everyone is. You loved this. The memories of this lake kept you safe, almost. You can hear muffled laughter above the water, deciding to take your time before coming up for air. You didn't need it just yet.

You swim away from everyone deep under the surface, scanning the lake floor for anything interesting. Really, it was just sticks and rocks and mud, but one day you may find something else exciting, but not today.

"Where is she going?" Coryo comments, watching your body as you kick away deeper under the water.

"Wherever she wants." Lennox answers plainly, treading water as he stares at him.

"She's looking for secrets." Maude Ivory giggles, splashing him in the face. At least she gave him somewhat of an answer.

He quickly lifts an arm to block the wave, but it fails miserably. "What kind of secrets will she find at the bottom of the lake?" He coughs out, wiping the water from his eyes.

"Once we found a watch." Lucy Gray shrugs, looking from him to you. "Which is odd because we didn't know anyone else knew about this place. The secrets are what happens when we aren't here."

You hardly noticed the lack of oxygen until it almost felt too late, quickly swimming up and pushing your hair out of your face so you don't inhale it by mistake.

"Anything good today?" Lucy Gray shouts over to you as soon as she's noticed you've come up.

"There is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so!" You pant, pushing yourself through the water back toward her.

"So, that's a no?" Sejanus asks and you laugh, shaking your head.

"Just rocks and sticks." You explain, joining them again and bumping shoulders with Lucy Gray. "Some weeds, if that's your fancy."

"Oh, yes, that's right up my alley." Sejanus chuckles, cupping his hands to block out the glare of the sun as he looks down into the water anyway.

"I've never been to a lake before," Coryo says, breathing heavily as the waves from the kids splashing keep coming up too close to his face.

"What? Really?" Lucy Gray and Sejanus ask in unison, and you smile at him.

He nods, eyes locking with yours. You feel the need to say something. "Is it everything you dreamt of?" You ask.

"Just about." He grins.

"Oh? What's missing?" You giggle.

Oh, only being able to hold you without retraumatizing you.

"It's not that anything is missing," He comes up with as an excuse. "There's just more birds than I expected."

"Oh, yeah. They like it out here." You hum, looking up at the trees while Lucy Gray whistles out a tune for them to mimic. You smile. "Why, you don't like birds either?"

"Never been the biggest fan, no." He chuckles.

The birds echo her song back to you repeatedly. Coryo turns around to watch as if there was anything to see besides these black birds flitting around the trees and above the cabin. "What kind of birds are they?" He asks. "I've never seen that before."

"We call 'em Mockingjays." Lucy Gray tells him.

"'Cause they'll mock ya if you mess up the song!" Clerk Carmine jumps in, climbing onto Lucy Gray's back under the water.

"Oh, I wouldn't know." Your friend teases him, gripping tight onto the boy's legs as he starts to shout. He knows what's about to happen, and clearly you do too as Coryo watches you and your brother quickly swim out of their reach and closer to him.

You laugh, watching as Lucy Gray takes a big dramatic breath in and sinks under the surface of the water, pulling CC down with her as he screams and splashes.

The sun dried you quickly after you decided you had had enough of the water, climbing back out onto the dock and deciding to just lay your blanket there to dry off on while you took the book and snacks from your bag.

Coryo had been sitting with Lucy Gray and Sejanus, but they were just talking to each other more than him. Not that he could have paid much attention. He was just watching you.

"Can I go talk to her?" He asks with little regard for the conversation that he was interrupting.

They both look over at him. "I mean, you could try. Would that be okay?" Sejanus answers, looking to Lucy Gray for confirmation.

"No. Let her have her peace and quiet." Lennox interrupts as he walks back up in front of them, pulling his shirt back onto his now fully dried skin.

Lucy Gray sighs."Just... Don't be stupid." She advises Coryo, nodding him on. "Len, we'll be right here."

Your brother shakes his head slightly, glaring between the three of them with nothing short of adamant disapproval.

Coryo nods slightly, taking the preferable answer by getting up and heading back down onto the dock.

Lennox looks back over his shoulder to where he just was with Maude Ivory looking for katniss, before taking Coryo's spot on the deck.

"Did she not tell you anything about him?" Lennox mumbles to Lucy Gray, eyes locked on his sister and her 'friend' as he stands over her. "No, she must have- because you were at The Hob last week. You saw it."

"I saw a girl with a lot of unresolved trauma have an episode." Lucy Gray explains, watching Lennox take Coryo's spot next to her. "He made a mistake, but he wouldn't ever hurt her."

Your brother opens his mouth to argue, but Sejanus interrupts. "I know it isn't my place, but Lucy Gray is right. He would sooner die than hurt her."

"Okay, well, explain how he's sitting right next to her when he's already hurt her so bad she may never recover!" Lennox whispers, gesturing to the dock as if they couldn't already see you there.

"I'm not defending anything he's done. That's not what I meant." Sejanus explains. "I just mean he would never do it on purpose."

"Accidents are clearly bad enough."

"Len, he just wants to make amends now." Lucy Gray insists. "And she wants that. I know she does, she's really trying."

"Listen, if it helps..." Sejanus starts, looking back out at you and Coryo on the dock. He can tell how nervous his friend is, watching you intently as he picks at the wood finish beneath him and listening to you talk. "He really loves her. I know it's not my place to tell you that, but it was bad when she was gone. He hardly spoke a word to anyone, he wouldn't put her book down- it was really hard on him. We weren't sure if she had been executed for cheating, and it was killing him to be left in the dark."

"That's not love, that's guilt." Lennox mutters, watching you closely.

"What's the difference between love and guilt?" Lucy Gray asks him rhetorically. "He wouldn't feel guilty if he didn't care."

"The difference is he wouldn't have come here and made the same mistake again."

Lucy Gray bites into her lip, slightly shaking her head. That was an honestly good point.

"I was in the arena, too. I saw what he did." Sejanus says after a moment. "He saved my life, it was my fault. It was shocking... you know, the overkill, but I can't say for certain I wouldn't have done the same thing. We were both pumped so full of adrenaline that I truly believe that's what it was." He explains. "I mean, I was behind him, so I don't know what she saw- but it looked like adrenaline to me."

"How do you think she felt?" Lennox asks, eyes wide. "She was in there for three days! You and him were there for what, ten minutes?"

"Wait..." Lucy Gray backpedals, looking at Sejanus. "Sejanus, what do you mean you thought he was executed for cheating? Like, in the games?"

Sejanus swallows, nodding. He looks over at you but quickly looks away. "Yeah, uh... Coryo told me that she used rat poison to kill two of the others. And he did something to keep the snakes from biting her, but I don't think he was caught for that."

Your brother and best friend look at each other like they'd just seen a ghost before their eyes simultaneously track to you. You were laughing.

"She didn't... She didn't tell me that." Lucy Gray says quietly. "Did you know, Len?"

"No."

"That doesn't surprise me." Sejanus shrugs and they both look at him, shocked and confused. "Well, she doesn't know either. I don't think, definitely not about the snakes, but she told the Dean it was salt. That I gave her." He laughs slightly at the end, but they don't find it funny. "By the time she left, she was fully delusional about it. She knew what it was, Coryo gave it to her to protect herself because he needed her to win. She was really upset by the insinuation that it, in fact, was not salt."

Lucy Gray and Lennox look at each other again, unsure what to say. It must have been worse than they thought. Regardless, they knew it must be eating you alive.

"Can I join you?" You hear Coryo's voice above you after about ten minutes of listening to the mockingjays sing Lucy Gray's song back to her as she sat on the porch of the cabin. The sun was so warm on your skin that you could have fallen asleep here if you weren't reading your book.

You squint against the sun as you look up at him. "Yes, you may." You agree, and you feel him sitting down next to you as the wood creaks below him.

You find yourself holding your breath, even as you return to your book to try and remain relaxed.

He's not going to hurt you.

"What are you reading?" He asks after a moment, thinking your arms must be asleep for using them to hold the book and support your weight for so long.

"It's called 'Much Ado About Nothing'." You answer. "Another Shakespeare piece."

"Do you like it?" He asks, lifting his leg to rest his elbow on his knee while you sit up, crossing your legs and letting the book fall into your lap.

"I do." You smile down at the page. It is much more lighthearted than Romeo and Juliet, as much as you would have loved to come home and drown yourself in your favourite book- the boy next to you unintentionally made it impossible. God, you were so embarrassed by the letter you wrote to him. Your cheeks flush just think about it. All you did by surviving was make everything weird.

"Another tragedy?" He inquires, attempting to read some of the words on the page as it's opened on your lap.

"No." You chuckle, shaking your head. "It's a romantic comedy, actually."

"Oh, wow. You changed it up?" He asks, only somewhat shocked. It would only make sense that you couldn't handle much more tragedy since you've been home.

"I did." You smile. "It's quite funny."

"Will you read me your favourite part?" He suggests, watching your eyes as they light up with excitement from the request.

"Okay, so..." You quickly flip back through the pages and into the first act, scanning for the lines you're looking for. "Okay. Here." You pretend to clear your throat.

"In our last conflict four of his five wits went halting off, and now is the whole man governed with one: so that if he have wit enough to keep himself warm, let him bear it for a difference between himself and his horse; for it is all the wealth that he hath left, to be known a reasonable creature." You recite, dragging your finger along the page so he can track what you are reading. You remembered it, but it might have been easier for him to follow that way.

Coryo watched you the whole time, and by the end, you were a giggling mess. You thought it was absolutely hilarious, and he smiles at that.

"What does that mean?" He chuckles.

"So," You laugh, a hand pressed to your chest. "Basically, she's talking about how she was arguing with Benedick and won. The punchline is that she let him keep one of his wits, because if she didn't no one would be able to tell him from his horse."

Coryo laughs at that, shaking his head. "That is good." He agrees.

"Isn't it?" You smile. "It's a welcome change of pace."

"Yeah, Romeo and Juliet was... yikes." He says, ticking his jaw and peeling up some of the wood from the dock between you.

"You read it?" You ask quietly, eyes widening as you look over at him. It shouldn't shock you, he told you he would, and that he even looked forward to it. "What did you think?"

"Of course I did," Coryo nods. "I really enjoyed it."

"It doesn't seem like it..." You laugh nervously, looking down as you flip back to the page you were on before closing the book.

"No, truly. I did." He insists. "Just... for lack of a better term, it was tragic."

"Yes, well..." You chuckle, shrugging slightly and tucking your book back into the bag next to you.

"It was heartbreaking!" He laughs suddenly. "And that's your favourite?" He looks at you then, head tilted as he slightly shakes his head.

"Okay, so," You laugh, rolling your eyes. You were used to defending this to others who have tried reading it. "That's what makes it so beautiful. It's so touching, they died for each other thinking they were in love, but they also hardly knew each other. It forces you to wonder what could have been, and I like that."

"Okay, well, you're right." Coryo agrees. "I didn't like the ending, but that's the point, I suppose. The rest was good, it reminded me a lot of you."

"I think I forced a bias onto you. My apologies."

"You didn't force anything on me." He smiles, shaking his head. "All I knew is that you loved it, and that made it so much better."

Your cheeks flush as you busy yourself by pulling out the bag of cherries. "Would you like some?" You offer the bag to him and he reaches in, taking just a couple out and popping one into his mouth.

"I finished it all before you left." Coryo tells you, and you hold him out another empty paper bag to spit the pits into.

"That good?" You smile and he nods.

"Can I..." Coryo starts, and you tilt your head at him. He doesn't want to ruin your day by bringing this up. Everything on your face shows hope, even excitement for what he is going to say. "If you can't hear this stop me, but the book made great company in the mentor hall."

For a moment, he saw nervousness flicker behind your eyes, but still, you nodded. You wanted to hear anything he had to say- you just hoped you could stomach it.

"Oh, that's fine. I'm... I'm glad." You try and smile, distracting yourself by popping a cherry into your mouth.

"I was alone most of the time. I didn't go home." He tells you, trying to say what he wanted but still be as vague as possible.

"It must have been so horribly boring." You laugh nervously, swallowing the cherry pit as you reach for another of the small red fruits, picking the stem from it and flicking it into the lake.

"I wish it was." He replies, watching you closely to see if and when he's crossed a line. You nod in understanding, and he takes a nervous breath in. "I... The alternative was that I got sent home like some of my classmates. I wasn't going to leave until I had to."

'Until I had to.'

So he was forced to go in for Sejanus. Why on earth would they not send peacekeepers? Why another child?

"I... I appreciate that." You stammer out, looking down at your lap, noticing for the first time that your hands were trembling. "That must have been uncomfortable. I apologize."

Coryo furrows his brow at you. "No, I'm sorry. Why would you apologize to me?" He asks. "I'm sorry I couldn't do more for you. That I couldn't get you out."

"You did more than you had to." You say, voice quiet with your honesty.

"No." He shakes his head. "I had to do everything I did. I couldn't let you die."

"You saved my life, and... and-" It happens very suddenly when a tear falls down your cheek; you didn't even notice you were starting to panic.

"No, wait, I'm sorry, hey, don't cry..." Coryo says quickly. He wants to help, to do something, but he feels helpless. Again. He feels sick with the knowledge that he always says the wrong thing.

"I'm sorry... I'm sorry..." You mumble, trying to wipe your eyes but you're finding it hard to speak.

"Don't be, please don't be sorry." He pleads with you, shifting so he's kneeling next to you, placing a hand on your back.

You almost jump away, head flying to look at him. He's just rubbing your back. He's only trying to help.

Instinctively, your eyes search for his. They aren't hard to find, and all you can see as you search them is worry. Nothing malicious. "I... Do you want me to get Lucy Gray? Or your brother?" He offers, grabbing your shaking hands in his free one. "Just take deep breaths."

You nod, scared to look away for even a second. So he has to.

Coryo turns back, swallowing his pride. "Lennox! Lucy Gray!" He shouts, drawing their attention quickly.

He accepted the berating he was about to get from your brother before it even came.

"What did you do?" Lennox asks him, forcing himself between the two of you.

"We were just talking and I think I said something- I don't know, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to..." Coryo answers honestly, standing up and taking a step back.

You're watching him, intently, despite Lucy Gray taking over holding you and talking to you in hushed tones, trying to ease your mind.

"I'm okay." You tell her, nodding. You don't look at her, only watching him. Watching his eyes- but nothing changes. Baby blue. Worry. More worry.

taglist: @soulessjourney , @that-veela-girl ,  @dreamyysouls, @rockstarbfs , @maysileeewrites , @baybieruth , @kitscutie ,  @fratboyharrysgf0201 , @totallynotkaibiased , @stelleduarte , @secretsicanthideanymore , @bejeweledreverie , @drewsandsebastianswife , @niicole-87 , @queenofshinigamis , @innercreationflower , @nallasstuff , @iovemoonyy , @thatmarvelchick19 , @wearemadeofstardust0 , @regulusblackcore , @puredreamagination , @fantasticchaosthing , @becauseseaotters , @secretsicanthideanymore

okay suddenly tumblr isn't letting me tag more people than this so i just made some cuts unfortunately :') i just left the max amount of people i could whose users i recognized and see in my notifs all the time :) if you're not on here and you should be i'm so sorry!

also this taglist is closed now!! if you’d like to get a notification when i update, turn on my post notifications!! i promise i won’t spam y'all :,)

#the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbosas #tbosas fic #tbosas fanfiction #tbosas x reader #thg #the hunger games #thg series #thg fanfiction #thg fic #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #coriolanus fanfiction #coryo snow #coryo x reader #coryo x you #president snow #coryo #snow lands on top #snow x reader

[phyrestartr]

Simple Things [3] - Miguel O'hara x Male!Reader

# Mild NSFW, fluff, comfort, flirting, light angst, male!reader, dad!reader, spider!reader, implied depression, mentions of trauma, mentions of past relationships, mentions of manipulation, old men just doing their best, miguel is a sweetheart and a nerd, multi-part drabble collection

[ 1 ] Smoke Break | [ 2 ] We Change Like the Seasons | [ 3 ] Meet the Kids

Notes: Covid is still kicking my ass but I wanted to finish this part off so I can make the reader and Miguel fuck in the next part wahoo \o/

-- Meet The Kids --

A girl walked into the lab. Miguel thought maybe Gwen or another spider had come to ask something of him or to steal one of the cookies from his desk console (wouldn't be the first time), but the lazy scuff of shoes on polished floors sounded too clumsy to be one of his agents. She wasn't wearing a suit either, Miguel realized after sparing a glance over his shoulder; she did, however, sport a day pass on a small wrist. 

"And you are?" Miguel asked before turning back to his screens. He wasn't really in the mood for conversation while he tracked the next anomaly, but he couldn't say he wanted some random kid to be touching his stuff in his lab. 

"I dunno. Who're you?" Ugh. 

The clattering of something hitting the floor made Miguel's eye twitch. He took a breath. "I'm the guy running the show here." He closed screens with gruesome scenes of destruction, hiding them from the prying eyes of the innocent in the room with him. "And I'm the one who's about to call your guardian." 

She scoffed. "My guardian?" 

"Whichever spider dragged you into HQ and let you off your leash with a day pass." Miguel spied her out of the corner of his eye, but didn't have the decency to face her. "Lyla. Scan her." 

"You got it, buddy." 

"Woah, wait–!" The girl gasped as a warm orange light washed over her, flickering across her entirety before vanishing. "Dude." Despite the attitude, her voice trembled faintly. Miguel almost felt bad. But she touched his stuff. Not his fault. 

Lyla whistled and adjusted her sunnies as she leaned into a tiny screen of her own. "Oooh, you're gonna love this, Miguel–" 

"Miguel?" The girl repeated. "Like…the guy Dad talks about?" 

A clairvoyant feeling overwhelmed the spider, probably the same way spidey senses hit the normal spider-people around him. Somehow, he knew who she was, who her dad was before Lyla even said it. 

"Yep, that's (Name)'s kiddo," Lyla chirped. 

Miguel looked at the girl. He really looked at her this time, feeling some sort of stupid with how much she looked like you; her hair was fluffy and unkempt in the same shade yours was, the shape of her nose was like a smaller, cuter version of yours, too. Then there were her eyes. That same hazy hue of uncut gems, a colour of protective dullness that hid something brilliant and effervescent from the outside world. 

"(Name)'s kid," Miguel repeated. Your name felt comfortable on his tongue these days. "Kid, I–what're you doing here? Where's your dad, huh?" 

The girl, very clearly looking around the room to try and spot the elusive Lyla, shrugged. "I 'unno." 

Colour Miguel unimpressed. "Oh, you don't know. Good. Great." He tutted before running a hand through his hair. "Lyla, call the kid's dad–" 

"He's sleeping!" She blurted. "You can't just, like, wake him up; Dad never gets to sleep." Her arms crossed tightly over her chest as her cheeks puffed. "And my name's Isabella, y'know." 

Miguel's dark brow raised in question. "Isabella." Said with a Latin accent. Interesting. Miguel's chest felt tighter. "If your dad's asleep then he probably left you with someone." He looked at her expectantly. 

Isa shrugged again and scuffed her worn soles against the floor. "Mr.Parker didn't notice. He's watching Natalie and Nico and May 'n whatever. So. Yeah." 

Mr.Parker? Oh. "Hm. He babysit you a lot?" God, Miguel should stop asking questions, but curiosity and that damn attention deficit had him by the throat. He turned around and folded his arms over one another, too, before leaning back against the stage console to speak with Isabella properly. 

"Ugh, why are old people so–so freaking annoying? I'm not a baby, I don't need anyone to watch me." Ah. Of course. 

"Oh, wow, ah-huh, yeah. Sure. I'm sure your dad agrees." Her amateur glare wrought a smirk out of him. Would he have argued with Gabi like this? 

Miguel cleared his throat and turned back to the console, reaching for another cookie absent-mindedly. "Look, you can stay here until your father comes to get you, but you have to stop touching things. Got it?" But Isa only grumbled and scuffed her feet again. "Isabella." 

"Uuugh. Fiiine." The girl plopped down into an old rolling chair. Miguel tried not to twitch. He would not snap at a child for breaking his chair, he would not do that. Absolutely not. 

Not even one minute of silence passed before the kid rolled closer to the centre stage Miguel stood at. "Sooo you're, like, my dad's boss or something?" 

"Guess that's the easiest way to put it." Miguel peered at the girl from the corner of his eye. 

"Okay, but what's the hardest way to put it?" Isabella wiggled and sat backwards on the chair, hugging the backrest as she scooted around the lab. "Are yooou…friends?"

Miguel shrugged. "I'd say so." 

"Hmmmm. Are you more than friends?" 

His eye twitched again. "Do you interrogate every adult like this?" 

Isabella huffed. "Uh, he made you cookies. It's sooo not weird to ask if you're, like, a thing." 

"A thing." 

"Like boyfriends–" 

"Santa Muerte, I know what you mean, kid." 

"Okay." Silence fell for all of ten seconds. "I'm just saying–" 

Miguel groaned. "Can you stop talking for five minutes–" 

"--you'd be waaay cooler to have for a step dad than all the people Dad's been dating." 

"Yeah, well, I'm hard to beat." Oh, wow, did he just say that about himself? Christ. Miguel took a deep breath and tried to relax his shoulders with all his might. "That came out wrong. I–look, you need to just–he's dating?" Miguel cringed. It's not that he was interested in you like that, just…he was nosy, that's all. But he was incredibly aware of how that must have sounded to an equally nosy tween. 

Isabella perked up. "Uh, yeah. But everyone he dates ends up being suuuper crazy and weird. Like, it's reaaally bad." 

He shouldn't pry. He really shouldn't. "...Bad how?" Ay, Miguel. 

"Like, they're always super clingy or don't like kids or something. And, like, Nico and Nat had moms who had dads who super hated dad, so they gave him money to make him go away." Isabella nodded matter of factly. "That's what Dad said. He's super sure he's cursed or something. Granny was a bruja y'know." 

Miguel shouldn't be listening to this. He shouldn't be prying into your life through the conduit of a chatty kid. Asking you would be the better option, but this way was so much easier. It felt like he could finally get a grasp of what you'd been through, and maybe catch a glimpse of who you were behind the scenes. 

"Then what about your mom?" Miguel asked, crossing his arms and flicking his gaze back to the monitors. "That didn't happen with her?" 

An offended gasp burst from the young lady. "No! My mom was so not like that. She was Dad's girl!" 

"No kidding." Miguel hummed. He wasn't about to ask what happened to her. Spiderman never had an easy romance, never had an easy life. 

"Yeah! They fought in the war together, and her name's–" 

"Isabella." Your voice cut through the air like winter rain. Miguel almost got chills, and Isa squeaked before hopping off her chair and scrambling on the stage to hide behind Miguel. 

"Oh, look at that. Someone's in trouble," Miguel mumbled, mean smirk quirking the corner of his mouth. 

Isa glared up at Miguel. "Jerk."

"Isabella, quit bothering the boss," You groaned tiredly. Miguel's ears perked as the coo of a little one fluttered through the air. He turned and found you holding the littlest baby in one arm, and a toddler in the other, both incredibly K.Oed.

"M'not bothering him!" She protested. "I'm just hanging out!" 

"Cut the crap, you're probably complaining about school or about my love life or how I wouldn't get you a new phone or some shit." Miguel had to fight back a laugh. He'd never heard you so exasperated nor animated before. "And why the hell did you run off, huh? You had Pete freaking the fuck out." 

"I got bored! I just wanted to go look around!" Isabella pleaded with a puppy-level whine.

"Isa, this place, it's–it's not meant for people without powers. You could get hurt, alright?" You adjusted your grip on the two little ones in your arms. "And the lab is a whole 'nother story, Christ–" 

"It's fine, (Name)," Miguel cut in, turning to you. "She was fine." 

But the worry lines creasing your forehead didn't smooth quite as much as he wanted. "'Ppreciate it, Boss. But, I…" you trailed off, sighing softly. "Yeah. Just. Thanks. I'll, ah, get her out of your hair. Bet you've got work to do." 

Mija, let's go is what Miguel swore he heard come out of your mouth before Isa pouted and ran after you.

Mija. That word brought a world of hurt and comfort to his chest–the coincidence of Spanish on your tongue felt too…perfect, like you'd learned it just to shove it in his face. But Miguel knew better. 

Isabella. 

Mija. 

Your girl, Isa's mother, must have taught you. He liked that, for some reason. The idea of learning something new for a partner. What would you teach him if you were– 

Woah, woah, stop, Miguel. Stop. His ears turned hot. He worried at his bottom lip with fidgety hands before shaking his head free from such dangerous thoughts. 

Focus, he chanted to himself, you've got work to do. 

--

You decided you were sick that day. No, you weren’t really, but the headache chipping away at your skull suggested that, hey, maybe staying home for a day wouldn’t be a bad thing. You could use a break from dragging yourself around New York, searching for the next big scoop, the next tragedy to document and earn a living off of, too. 

So, there you were, in bed, with the tv in the front room playing some sort of movie that you’d heard a thousand times but never learned the name of, while your littlest, newest addition to the family starfished in a laze, his tiny tummy pressed to your broad chest. Your fingers lazily rubbed circles against his little back as he snoozed and drooled on your shirt. Somehow, the giggling and chattering of his sisters didn’t wake him up. Maybe the drumming of your heart, or the safety of a warmth he hadn’t known until now, drowned all of it out. 

He didn’t even stir when his sisters screeched.

You closed your eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. God, please just let it be a spider, please just let it be a spider. You sat up, holding your baby to your chest as you plucked a gun from the side table. You carefully set Nico down into the warmth of where you were laying before stalking to the door and whipping it open, gun poised and ready for–oh. A big spider.

“What the fuck, Miguel,” you hissed, beyond exasperated as you lowered the gun. “Why the–what–I could’ve shot you.” 

Miguel looked beyond bewildered, though some would say entirely bamboozled. He had his hands up like the police had them in his sights, his face was a combination of embarrassed, shocked and annoyed, and his claws had popped out in his flustered panic. His spiderman suit was still on, but he had that white hoodie thrown on top like it’d hide the fact he was spiderman. Hopefully it did. 

“I–” Miguel started.

“Ah-ah.” You cut him off like a dog misbehaving. “Girls?” Their heads popped up from behind the couch and you sighed in relief. “It’s alright, he’s a friend. From work.”

One of your daughters gasped. “It’s the weirdo that’s suuuper into dad!” Isabella cried, jumping out from behind the couch and pointing an accusatory finger at a very unamused-looking Miguel. 

“For the last time, I’m not–”

“You so are!”

“No, I’m not.”

“You are!”

“Yeah!” Natalie joined in, hopping up and down by her sister excitedly and pointing at the man they deemed guilty. “You are, you are!”

Miguel, probably halfway to an early grave, looked to you for help. But you flashed him a tight-lipped smile that said more than words could offer: perish. 

You let the girls hound him while you turned on your heel, heading back into the bedroom to sooth your stirring little boy. The gun found itself back in the drawer, safety on, magazine removed, before you scooped the tiny being into your arms and smooshed up against your chest. Your son quieted and clung to you. You left a kiss on the top of his head to welcome him.

"So," you started as you came back to the scene of the crime, "the hell're you here for, Boss?" You asked, completely unfazed by how the girls had corralled him onto the couch and had his hands in their own, their curious fingers pushing on his tendons and making his claws pop in and out. Honestly, you were pretty tempted to do the same. 

Miguel pursed his lips and ignored the gremlins on him as he looked at you again, something distant softening his features. 

"I, uh. I heard you were sick," he confessed with a small shrug. "Just thought…y’know." 

You hummed as you rubbed your son's back. "Huh. How'd you find that out?" 

"Peter mentioned it." 

"Pete doesn't know I'm sick." 

"Must've been Jess, then." 

"Jessie doesn't know either." 

Miguel was caught. His ears grew red before his cheeks did, and you smirked. Cute. Way too cute. 

"Lyla told me," Miguel grumbled, finally. 

"Ah. There it is. Not so hard to tell the truth now is it, Miggs?" You said with a Cheshire smile and a wink. "Good to know you've got your confidant spying on me." 

Miguel freed himself from the children and stood up quickly. "It's not--I'm not spying on you, I–you–" Miguel pursed his lips. "I don't need to explain myself." 

That made you laugh. "Relax, tough guy. I don't mind ya swinging by. Or, hm, guess I don't mind ya portal-ing in." Miguel didn't seem to think you were that funny, but thankfully Nico, in his haze of dreams, giggled at the right moment. "Nicky thinks I'm funny. You should take notes."

It didn't take much convincing to get Miguel to stay for dinner. You made him take a shower, though, and leant him some clothes to lounge in while you cooked everything from scratch. From scratch. Miguel couldn't remember the last time he had a home cooked meal. 

"Yeah? That's sad as shit," you remarked nonchalantly as you diced vegetables. "Tell ya what, you make it a habit of coming around, and I'll make sure I make extra for you, yeah? It's important to have that home cooked goodness for your soul 'n what not." 

Miguel felt his chest fill with something fluffy and warm. "Good point." But it wasn't, really. "Guess I'll have to make it a habit." He leaned back against the counter as he watched you prep everything. "Wouldn't want you putting in all that extra effort for nothing."

You twitched a bit of a smile and nodded. "My thoughts exactly." 

You spared a glance at Miguel. He looked calm, at ease, like the threat of the dimensions collapsing wasn't at the forefront of his mind for once. You thought, maybe, this might be the first time in a long time that he had his mind off work. Maybe he was doing that whole human thing and enjoying the present for a change. Jumping to conclusions wasn't really your style, though. 

Crimson eyes flickered, then, gazing towards the crib settled in your bedroom. He must've heard your little man stir. He must've wanted to do something about it, if his sudden shiftiness told you anything. 

"You mind checking on him?" You asked softly, knowing that, maybe, this was a big ask for a man who only had a phantom to tuck in at night. "He's fussy. Likes to be held." 

"You're sure?" The other man asked, brows furrowed in concern. 

"You kidding? If there's any guy I'd trust with my kid, it's you." You fiddled with the wrapper of the packaged chicken meat before ultimately stabbing it with a knife. "Go on. Before he starts crying." 

And Miguel wandered off to the little one. His voice had that sound to it when he spotted him, that kind of gentleness a man unlocked when he felt what it meant to be a father, a protector of a smaller soul. You listened hard for Miguel's smile, and felt your heart throb when you heard, "Hey, mijo. ¿Estas bien?" leave his lips. Your little boy cooed, and Miguel made a noise that sounded so frightfully domestic and dad-like, you thought you might perish on the spot, or fall in love in a second. 

Get it together, get it together. A deep breath steadied your blitzing nerves when Miguel came back to the kitchen, Nico in his arms, smooshed up against his chest. You stole a glance, smiling to yourself when you caught Miguel mooning over the lazy bundle of joy. 

You worked fast, feeling a weird, undeniable desire to talk after you had your army of children fed and sent to bed. Miguel didn’t leave your side, nor did he deign to put Nico down, not through soup and sandwiches, not through 20 questions hosted by Isabella and Natalie, and not through the moments alone where you herded the young ladies off to wash up before getting them to bed for the night. 

“Y’know, you’re gonna spoil that kid,” you said with a smile when you came back to find Miguel on the couch with your son. You sat down by him with a dad-like sigh and peered at the little one snoozing away. “He’s gonna demand you hold him every time you come around.”

Miguel huffed a laugh. “You make it sound like it’s a bad thing.”

“Hey, with arms ‘n pecs like that?” You pat one of Miguel’s impressive biceps to prove a point. “I get where he’s coming from. Lots of free real estate with good foundations.”

“Oh? You want me to hold you too?” Miguel offered, some sort of impish lilt lifting his voice as he looked over at you.

You fought back the urge to swallow. “Sure. If you’re offering.” But Miguel looked a little caught again, a little unsure of how much to tease and how hard to press, so you let him off the hook with a laugh. 

“Man, you really remind me of her.” You rested your head against the couch, maybe a little bit on Miguel’s shoulder, as you watched your boy sleep. “Liliana,” you amended, “Isabella’s mom.” 

Scarlet eyes flickered to you. Seems you caught his attention. “Liliana,” Miguel tested the name on his tongue slowly, thoughtfully. “Isabella’s mom.” And after another pause, he asked, “I guess she’s gone?”

“Gone. Yeah.” You blinked slowly, and let the words rotting in your lungs breach the surface: “I killed her.” Ah, maybe you said that with too much nonchalance, you worried, but Miguel’s low hum seemed to suggest otherwise. 

It felt good. You couldn't stop yourself from talking. “It was an accident, I guess. She was a scientist. Geneticist, I think. Made me into, well, whatever I am now.” You flexed your hand and looked it over, like the blueprints of your design were still hidden under tired skin. “‘Cause, y’know, I was a soldier, she said I was gonna be the next Captain America, but… that doesn’t matter. Anyway, side effects were bad, really bad. I freaked out, then--then, y'know.” You took a breath. “Killed my little girl’s mom.”

You chewed the inside of your cheek as you stared at nothing, sucked back into a daze and a trance you’d long forgotten about. But you remembered the blood, the screaming, the way you and those webs ignited and how the white lab coats all howled and screamed and popped. The scent of roasted flesh should have disgusted you, it should have knocked some sense into you and dragged you out of whatever episode you were having, but instead–

Your stomach growled, and you cleared your throat. 

“Yeah. That was a bad day.” 

“I get it,” Miguel said, and sounded like he meant it. “Guess something like that happened to me.” 

You peered up at him, glimpsing his conflicted, troubled look. 

“Yeah?” Thought Spiderman had a boring, normal story. Because, in totality, you were something more demented than just Spiderman, so your story was more fucked up than the rest. Maybe you were wrong.

“Yeah. I was–my research killed someone when I was trying to make them into, well, Spiderman.” Miguel sighed and shook his head, admonishing himself from the past. “I didn’t want to. I got pressured into it. Drugged when I wanted to quit. It was a mess.

“Tried to rewrite my DNA, and then a colleague shocked that up for me, and I ended up with the claws, the fangs, the–the everything. Slashed his throat by accident, got some other people killed when they tried to help me, killed some baddies when I didn’t mean to.” 

Miguel’s gaze turned to you. “So don’t think you’re alone.” 

“Huh,” you said astutely. “Guess you really meant it when you called us ‘miserable bastards.’”

“Takes one to know one, I guess.” Miguel’s shoulder shifted slightly, easing down so your head could rest more comfortably against him. Your chest swirled with errant embers, but you tried not to think too hard about it. 

“You said I reminded you of her. Of Liliana?” Miguel asked, quiet and tentative. 

You hummed. “Yeah. The good parts.” You smiled (when had that gotten so easy?) and reached over to brush some dark hair from Nico’s tiny forehead. “She was smokin’ hot.” 

“...Huh.”

“Way too smart for her own good,” you continued. “It's always the smart ones that get me, y'know? Anyway, she was sly 'n funny in a mean way, but hey, I like that shit. Maybe I'm a masochist." 

"So," Miguel started, shifting slightly to face you more, "let me get this straight. You think I'm 'smoking hot,' 'too smart for my own good,' and 'funny in a mean way'?" The grin on his face was too much for you to handle. Why did you feel so hot suddenly? Why was he so close suddenly?

"I think that sums it up." 

"Huh. Anyone ever tell you you're an asshole?" 

"Ouch. Okay, what if I throw in 'she was born to be a bangin' mom','' you offered, feeling a long-forgotten rush of excitement as you sat up and leaned in close, so close, your hand coming up to cup the side of his strong neck as you kept talking, "and that she made me feel somethin' for the first time in a long time?" 

You could feel Miguel's breath hitch in his throat as he measured the gap between you two, his eyes flicking down to your lips and back to your eyes in debate. You wanted to close it. With every inch of your being you wanted to take the plunge and crash your lips against his. 

But, with every fibre of your soul, you didn't want to fuck this up. You didn't have words for what this even was, but you cherished it. Sauntering down this line of friendship, of companionship, was better than taking the dive back into that world of icy yearning and wilting roses–this type of love, the platonic sort shared between brothers and men, was meaningful in and of itself. It was good enough.

Wasn't it?

You looked over his face, in disbelief with yourself. "Who am I kidding?" You whispered, letting your hand fall from his neck like a glacier shearing away from its home. 

A small, tired laugh crawled from your chest, and you rubbed your face. "I, uh, think I oughta call it a night. I'm gonna–I gotta tuck Nicky into his crib." And carefully, gently, you scooped up your monkey and whispered quiet thanks into his hair–your little man was the perfect scapegoat. 

What're you thinking? Careful hands pulled up the banana-patterned blanket over Nico's tiny form after you'd set him down in the cozy crib that he loathed so much. You thought it was nice and comfy. Hell, if you could fit, you'd probably snooze in there all day. 

"Good work today, Nicky. I think you made the big guy relax a little, y'know?" Your son cooed sweetly in his sleep, and your spirit lifted just slightly. It almost gave you the strength to go face Miguel after coming onto him so hard. 

Finding the last bit of courage yourself, you gave your boy one last kiss on the noggin and quietly snuck out, closing the door with utmost caution behind you, only to be pressed up against it a moment later, and smothered with a kiss. 

A bolt of lightning kicked your pulse into triple time as you kissed Miguel back. His hands caught you by your hips, and your arms hooked around his shoulders and pulled him in closer. The simple thing was exhilarating. He was exhilarating. The embodiment of strength and resilience, of power and intelligence, was crushing you up against a door and taking the air from your lungs with such ease. 

"Fuck," you gasped when you parted with a wet noise that sounded far too Hollywood. "You're not half bad." 

"You've got a talent for ruining the mood." Miguel scoffed and tilted your chin up. His half-lidded eyes drank you in as soft breaths left his parted lips. You wanted nothing more than to be eaten whole by him (was that weird?). 

"I got a few other talents, too," you purred, voice swirling with velvety dark chocolate. "But that might be too much for an old man like–" 

Your squawked indignantly when he scooped you up and hoisted you over his shoulder like you were nothing but a petulant child. Your hands scrabbled against his back, and a shocked bout of laughter bubbled up from your core as he slapped you on the ass hard. Was this real? Were you seriously getting manhandled and spanked by Miguel O'hara? 

Miguel almost threw you onto the couch, but you guessed the children snoozing in the next room over hampered that decision. 

"If there's one thing I'm never too old for," Miguel murmured lightly, almost condescendingly as he set you down on the couch and got on top of you, "it's sex." 

Your eager hands flitted across his taut muscles, too excited and undecided as to where to land first. "Thought you were too old to sleep around?" 

"I don't sleep around," Miguel corrected, letting you fill in the blanks. 

That helped you relax a little. "Yeah?" 

He looked so conflicted, a little embarrassed, too. But that was becoming more and more common these days, thanks to you. "Yeah." 

You nodded and reached a hand up to his cheek, and he leaned in graciously as a needy cat might. "Okay. Then I don't either." 

Miguel hummed, and turned to mark your palm with a little kiss. "Alright." 

"And maybe…we don't fuck tonight." His sleepy gaze found you again with one dark brow raised, surprised. "I'm, uh, I think I'm down pretty bad for you, Boss. I don't wanna fuck this up." 

And, truth be told, you wanted to give him some respite. Maybe you wanted to give some to yourself, too; Liliana and Dahlia danced through your mind so much these days, no thanks to the burgeoning fondness growing for Miguel. He reminded you of both of them, of Winter and Summer, of snow and flowers. But it wasn't fair, not to you or him, to compare him to the epitome of cold and the apex of warmth. You needed time, too. Time to learn how to compare him to no one.

Miguel smiled, small and sincere. You admired the fine lines crinkling the corners of his eyes. He looked so handsome when he smiled. You wanted him to do it more. Were you enough to make him smile more?

"Yeah. I don't want you to shock this up either," he said, and your brows raised, incredulous. 

"This is what I get for trying to be mature ‘n romantic, huh?” Your fingers drummed against the arms caging you in. You thought about chancing a finger-taser to his ribs, but with those damn claws of his, you were a little too worried about your couch cushions getting demolished.

His handsome smile turned into a punchable smirk. “What? I’m agreeing with you.” 

“Ah-huh, ah-huh, that’s all, hey?” You leaned up and kissed Miguel again, slower and tamer this time, but still burning with want. Ugh. Why did you have to try to be all mature and romantic? “You’re just being a good boy?”

Miguel’s hips twitched at that, and it was your turn to smirk. Oh, how the tables turn. 

“Lay down,” you ordered, sitting up to get out from under him. “Come on.”

“I–what?” He grumbled, looking a little befuddled and frustrated. Cute, cute cute. “Thought we agreed on–”

“Heavy petting’s not off the table, right?” You cut him off. Miguel perked a little bit at the suggestion and did as he was ordered, his hands finding your hips again as you took your turn straddling him. “Luckily for you, I’m an expert at the clothes-on experience.” You winked and Miguel sucked in a breath. 

“Show me.” He ordered, voice deep and gravelly.

And you did.

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel x reader #atsv imagine #atsv reader insert #male reader insert #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara x male reader #miguel x male reader #male!reader #atsv male!reader insert #atsv x reader #atsv x you #miguel x you #miguel ohara x you #miguel ohara x y/n #phyrestartr

[russolover]

10

Tease

10. “I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice.”

It was team night out which you were pretty excited for, especially because that meant spending some time with the Italian that you've been crushing on for some months now.

Of course you didn't tell anyone, the news would spread quicker than anything else but that didn't stop some team members to figure out your liking concerning Alessia.

More specifically, Lucy and Keira. They caught you staring at the blonde one too many times and asked you about it a few weeks ago. Lying was not an option since both of them knew you since you joined the lionesses young.

You quickly got dressed and made your way to the lobby meeting up with the rest of the team. As you were talking to Lucy you could hear the familiar laughter of an Italian that made your knees go weak.

"tooney shut up"

The blonde laughed out loud as she was slapping the brunette on the arm before joining you and Lucy.

Your breath hitched as you scanned Alessia from head to toe until you meet her crystal blue eyes.

"hey y/n"

She smirked as she caught you staring.

"Looking good less"

You replied after Lucy smacked your back to get you to speak. The four of you were quickly joined by the rest of the team and made your way to the bar.

"Dark green is her colour don't you think"

You whispered watching the Italian sing her heart out with Mary and Tooney while sipping on your drink. Keira grinned at you taking the drink from you.

"Enough of that, go over and talk to her"

"I can't and she's busy any-

"Y/n you've been staring at her for over an hour now if you don't go now I will slap-

Keira got interrupted by a slightly tipsy Italian.

"Why would you want to slap y/n?"

She laughed sweetly dropping down next to you and placing her head on your shoulder indicating she's getting tired. You froze as you smelled her familiar strawberry smell and felt her left hand drawing shapes on your thigh.

"just breath, be calm, deep breaths y/n"

You thought to yourself as your heartbeat increased rapidly.

"Y/n?"

Alessia spoke again, placing her other hand on your chin to turn your face into her direction.

You were met with sky-blue eyes scrunching up as she smiled when you looked at her.

"You okay less?"

You asked trying to control your breathing.

"hm, are you?"

She whispered not taking her hand off your chin.

"Yeah, of course"

You cleared your throat looking into Keiras direction only to be met with an empty seat. God knows when she left.

The Italian laughed before you looked at her again raising your eyebrow.

"Come with me"

She got up taking your hand, leading both of you out of the bar. You leaned against the wall as you closed your eyes and inhaled the cold air trying to make sense of the current situation.

Opening your eyes, you were met with the italian looking sweetly at you.

"why are we outside lessi?"

The blonde stepped closer.

Too close, not that you were complaining but your heart rate was again peaking. Your breath hitched as her cold hands brushed your collarbones as she started playing with your chain.

“I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice.”

She whispered, still playing with your chain. Your heart dropped. Maybe you weren't as discreet as you thought?

"Less I can ex-

"I like it"

She interrupted you.

"w-what?"

"I like it when you look at me like that y/n"

It felt like the world stopped spinning as you watched the pretty blonde look at you. You gently placed your hands on her hips pulling her closer.

"How long have you known?"

You asked as you looked at the shorter woman.

"about 3 weeks"

You gasped at the amount of time.

"w-wha how?"

"it was pretty obvious when you dropped your drink on yourself when I showed you my dress"

She laughed at the memory, making you go red in embarrassment.

"god I should've just told you, Keira was right"

You mumbled, tucking a strand of her blond her behind her ear.

"yeah, you should have"

She smirked at you. The proximity between your and her lips getting smaller by the second. The smell of her lipgloss invaded your senses as you tried to kiss her.

Before you could feel her lips, the italian backed up making your face scrunch in confusion.

"also.. I don't kiss before a first date"

She smirked making you chuckle.

"Russo you're a tease"

#alessia russo #alessia russo x reader #woso fanfics #woso soccer #woso masterlist #fanfic #lionesses #engwnt #woso community #lgbtq #alessia russo imagine

[jazminetoad]

What The Cat Dragged In

Zoro x Reader

Hey so this is a fanfic I promised I'd make for @undercoverweeeb when my wifi came back but because of my slow nature it took too long for me to finish, my apologies my friend. I hope you enjoy it!

(Click "Keep reading" to read the story)

"How many alley cats does this dumpster have?" You questioned, picking up cats and taking them out of the smelly pile of fish. Just one of the many things you experienced when running your own sushi bar. After the first time, you remembered to wear gloves, long sleeves, and googles for your safety. "Maybe I should get a dog to scare you cats off. Hey, since when did cats have green fur?"

You had removed a cat that had been lying on top of another "cat" with green-coloured fur, but the back of it was all you saw. It could just be moss, but last time you checked moss didn't feel hairy. Once you set down the current cat in your hands, you reached to pick up the mysterious green "cat" only to be met with a person's face. You were stunned frozen, wondering why someone in their right mind had been sleeping in your dumpster full of fish. Just as you were questioning what to do, the person start waking up with a groan and made eye contact with you.

"AH!" You snapped out of your stunned state and dropped his head, which resulted in it hitting the metal edge of the dumpster.

"Ow! Geez, what the hell lady?!" He said holding his forehead.

"What are you doing in my trash?!"

"Your what?" The man glanced to see where he was. "What am I doing here on a pile of fish?"

So even he didn't know why he was there. There were 4 explanations that could be the reason why he woke up in the dumpster: 1) He could've got mugged last night and got knocked out so he was thrown into the dumpster 2) He was a blacked-out drunk that ended up in the dumpster 3) He's a victim of organ trafficking or 4) He got mixed up in the pirate squabble that happened the night before. As much as you were curious what the answer was, you didn't know if the stranger is dangerous.

"Um, I'll just dump my trash out later..." You said to no one in particular, stepping closer to your backdoor and ready to head back in but not taking your eyes off the individual. You flinched as you watched him hop out of the dumpster but relaxed when you saw he wasn't going towards you.

"I should find the others," you overheard the man say to himself. "They're probably lost without- hrgh!"

You spun around on your heels in time to witness him holding onto the dumpster for support and droplets of blood fall from him. Your instincts kicked in and pushed you over to his side, helping the green-haired man rest against the dumpster. Scanning over his form, you spotted the many slashes that were on his body now open and bleeding. It's a miracle this guy survived the night without medical care.

"Something tells me that taking you to the hospital isn't an option," you guessed raising a brow at him.

"..." He averted his gaze, he wasn't about to reveal he couldn't go there because he's a pirate.

"Alright then, up you get, let's go." You pulled him up to his feet.

"...What?" His eyes went back on you, now wide.

"You need help," You bluntly stated as you brought his arm around your shoulder. Your other arm helps him stay upright before you continue. "And if I can't take you to the hospital, then the first aid kit back at my place will have to do."

"...You don't even know me."

"No, but I know you need help. The only question is, will you let me?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"You seem calm for someone getting stitches," you spoke up, breaking the ice of silence between the two of you when you finished the first stitch.

"It's not the first time this happened," he responded unphased. "Besides, you seem to know what you're doing."

"I learned the basics, just enough to be able to survive in case I had to go on the run," you told him as you began preparing to stitch the next wound.

"Oh? And why would you need to go on the run?"

"I don't know, maybe because I'm helping you," you playfully joked. "So if I'm going to have to be on the run because of you, I think it'd be fair if I knew your name."

"Wouldn't you be able to be in denial if you didn't know my name?"

"Where's the fun in that?"

Zoro hummed in thought, silence gently settling around the two of you. He watched you as you carefully stitch, so caught up in your work. You seemed to have the potential to be a pirate. If you joined the crew you could work alongside Chopper, it'd be good for him to have a helping hand, and if the smell of food from downstairs is what you made on your own he wouldn't mind another chef on the crew. However, it wasn't his call to make, it was his captain's.

"There, you're all patched up," you piped up, briefly bringing the swordsman out of his thoughts.

Zoro sat up and scratched the back of his head as you packed up the first aid kit. He wondered if you were bored of your life, from the conversation the two of you had it sounded like you carved adventure but something prevented you from doing that or is something not driving you to go. Maybe he's wrong. Hmm, but who in their right mind would help a stranger they found in their dumpster?

"Do you have somewhere to go?" You asked standing up, about to go put the first aid kit away.

"Yeah, my captain's probably wondering where I am," the man answered putting his shirt back on.

"Oh..." A part of you had hoped the man you found might've been someone on the run or a person who was lost, and had nowhere to go. It'd bring something new to your life, a start of a chapter, maybe one that'd lead down a path of misfortune but it'd be better than boredom.

"Hey, this place makes food right?" he inquired abruptly.

"Uh- yeah- this is a sushi bar- downstairs is the sushi bar, my sushi bar..." you stumbled over your words since your business was the last thing on your mind. "Uh why-"

"So you got booze here too?"

"Yes-?" It came out more as a question because you were wondering why he wanted to know.

"Hm, I'll have to bring my captain here to try out the food." He stood up walking past you. "You'll be open later right?"

When you didn't reply right away, he looked back at you, raising an eyebrow. Then hit it you, you understood his intentions. You smiled, feeling the hope of a new chapter beginning.

"Yeah, the place will be open later."

~~BONUS!~~

"Where's the exit?"

"You walked by the exit five times already!"

#one piece #one piece x reader #zoro x reader #ronoroa zoro #one piece x you #zoro #one piece zoro

[flowercrown-bard]

I have another prompt for you! Do with it ehat you want. It rested way too long in my "Ideas I never use" box:

"I don't even care about my own life, why would I care about yours? I am a fucking pheonix, my dear, death is just like an insect to me – It stings, but has no lasting effect"

(maybe it's fitted for a Fey!Jaskier? Or Ageless!Jaskier? Or a Villain?)

Ohhh I love that prompt! Thank you!! <3 (shame on me, i left out the word 'fucking' bc it didn't fit the vibe of the fic. Hope it's still ok)

I again have no idea what I'm doing, but where would be the fun in knowing what's going on in my own writing XD

word count: 4884

content warnings: brief mention of blood, brief mention of injury, temporary character death (for about two seconds), burning alive (kind of)

There was something in this forest that didn’t belong here.

Hasty steps disturbed the birds’ songs and heavy panting cut through the illusion of safety that lay over this land like a fog.

The girl running through the woods threw a glance over her shoulder, a haunted expression on her face. Her feet caught on a protruding root and with a cry that pierced the air like an arrow, she fell onto her hands and knees.

Her scream carried on, long after she had closed her lips again. The echo started out as a whisper, then it grew louder and louder, became a symphony of fear and desperation. The sound of one who was truly lost.

Then again, all who found this forest were lost in one way or another.

And though they might not realise it, no one was ever truly alone in these woods.

Inhuman blue eyes watched from the shadows of the underbrush as the girl curled in on herself, lying on the forest floor in a heap of helplessness.

With slow steps that fell onto the earth silently as a sigh, Dandelion took off their cloak of shadow and approached the lost girl in front of them. As they came closer, they lightly hummed a melody, a soft lullaby made of wishes and dreams.

Slowly, the girl’s shuddering breaths evened out and some of that tension that held her in a vice-like grip, eased out of her shoulders.

“Child,” Dandelion spoke softly, in a voice that was bird song and trees swaying in the wind.

The girl looked up. For a moment, she didn’t seem to comprehend what was kneeling before her. Then, within the blink of an eye, she scrambled backwards, terror etched onto her face.

“You don’t need to fear me,” Dandelion said softly, holding their hands up.

“Why should I believe you?” The girl’s hands wandered across the forest floor until the closed around a branch lying next to her. Though fear twisted her face, she held the branch in front of her like a sword.

Dandelion cocked their head to the side, a smile flickering over their face. This girl was brave. Most lost people were, but there was something about her…something other. Something elder.

“You can believe me, because I can’t lie.”

“You’re not human.” The girl’s gaze wandered over Dandelion. They could nearly feel how her eyes raked over his claws that were just a little too sharp to pass as human, over their blonde locks that nearly had the colour of the flower they had named themselves after; the name yet another fruitless attempt to become more than they were. They were so close to being human. Still, despite centuries searching, they hadn’t found the right them yet. Not in this life and not in any that had come before.

“I am not,” they admitted and the words tasted like ash on their tongue. Always ash. Always fire and ambers. And yet, nothing more than a small sting that would pass when the life engulfed them in another embrace. Another chance.

“Then what are you?”

Dandelion lowered themselves to the ground, until they were at eye level with the girl. Carefully, they reached out their hand, an offer, an invitation.

“I am a Home for the Lost. Another Chance.”

“I am not lost!” The girl sprang to her feet without warning, gripping the branch tighter. “I know where I’m going. I’m…I’m looking for someone.”

“And someone’s looking for you, I assume?”

The girl bit her lip while her eyes darted to the side again, scanning the trees as if whoever she was running from could jump out and attack her at any moment.

“You don’t have to be afraid,” Dandelion repeated. “You can be lost here for as long as you need to be.”

“What if I don’t want to be lost?”

Dandelion gave her a smile that they knew couldn’t reach their eyes. “Then I can keep you safe until you’re found again.”

“But you’re not him. The one who’s supposed to protect me.” The girl’s breath hitched. “Are you? You’re not Geralt of Rivia.”

Dandelion drew in a deep breath, tasting the name on their tongue as they inhaled. Their eyes fluttered close as the power of the name surged through them.

“I’m not,” Dandelion agreed. It wasn’t a lie. And yet, they felt a part of Geralt of Rivia’s being taking root within him. His name was theirs. His winding path, his doubts, his destiny. His losses. “But he will come here. I promise you that.”

“How can you? Have you seen him in these woods? I didn’t know he was in Brokilon forest.”

“This isn’t Brokilon forest. It stopped being that when I found you. And it doesn’t matter where Geralt of Rivia is. Not yet.” A breeze ruffled through the trees, whispering its secrets to its master. “He will be here. All woods lead here, when you go deep enough. When you get lost enough.”

If there was one certainty that pulsed through the name like a heartbeat, it was that Geralt of Rivia was lost, more than anyone Dandelion knew of. Except, of course, for the one person that Dandelion didn’t have the power to guide back to their right path. The one person who was given chance after chance after chance for a new start and yet never found their way out of the maze they were trapped in.

“He will come.” Their promise tasted like lightning and the soothing melody of a bubbling river. “You will be his second chance. Until then, let me be yours. I will keep you safe.”

The girl hesitated a moment longer. Then, she dropped the branch and flung herself into Dandelion’s arms, desperate not to be lost again.

Dandelion’s held her tightly, rapped his shadowy cloak around her and whispered soothingly into her hair. The embrace was like the feeling of when the fire stopped. At least that was how Dandelion imagined it must feel, when there were no flames coursing through their veins.

But they couldn’t truly know. After all, everyone was in this forest was lost in one way or another.

--

‘The girl in the woods will be with you always’

Renfri’s words echoed in Geralt’s mind as he limped onwards through the trees, ignoring the worried calls of the man who had taken him with him on his cart.

Geralt couldn’t waste a single moment longer by staying with him and his wife. His child surprise was out there somewhere, waiting for him. And Geralt…Geralt didn’t know what to do. He had to find her, had to make sure she was safe.

Yet he had no way of knowing where she even was, or if she was still alive. It was a miracle Geralt himself wasn’t dead yet.

You can be lost here.

Geralt’s head snapped up, his eyes darting across the trees sharply.

“Who’s there?” He called out. A mistake he wouldn’t have done if his mind had been clear and not muddled by ghoul poison.

For a long moment, there was no reply. Ever so slowly, Geralt tore his eyes from the darkness that lurked behind the trees. That’s when a different echo reached him.

Not Geralt of Rivia.

This voice sounded younger. Child-like.

“Ciri.” The name was but a breath on his lips, but he knew it in his heart to be true. Somehow, this voice was Ciri’s.

His staggering steps got faster, until he nearly ran. Geralt didn’t care about how the movement tore at his wound, how twigs whipped into his face, how his breath became shallow as black spots danced before his eyes.

He was urged onwards by the unbending certainty that Ciri was near, that he would finally find her.

People linked by destiny would always find each other.

But there was something else as well. A wildfire in his chest, a strand of shadow tugging him onward.

Geralt of Rivia.

The echo of his name rang through the woods, through the air and the inside of his head. Two voices. Ciri’s – and another one. A voice that sent shivers down Geralt’s spine.

The repeat of his name turned into a melody. A lullaby. A siren’s call.

Every instinct in him screamed to turn back, to get himself to safety. But instincts had been beaten out of him a long time ago.

His instinct had told him that his mother would take care of him.

His instinct had told him that he was loved.

His instinct had told him that there was nothing he could lose by calling upon the law of surprise.

But, oh, how he had lost. His mother, the woman he had thought he had loved, the certainty that he could keep walking the path that had been his only guidance since Vesemir had taken him to Kaer Morhen.

Geralt had lost, again and again, until he had become lost himself.

His chest became tight and he had to squeeze his eyes shut against the pressure building behind his eyes.

He was lost.

And yet he had no choice but to keep going. A haunting lullaby and his name on the wind forbid him from turning back.

He tried to orient himself on the rays of sun shining through the canopy of too-green leaves. Desperate to reach a path or a person that would make him not-lost again, Geralt ran until his breath turned into pants and his muscles protested. Witchers didn’t tire so easily. If need be, Geralt could fight for hours, stay up for days. Yet, no matter how much his body ached and protested, claiming it had been hours, days, weeks, the sun remained in his spot, never moving, as if no time was passing.

Geralt’s lungs were burning and the pain in his leg flared up with every step, until there were no more steps to take.

His knees gave out from under him and he collapsed, falling to his hands and knees onto the grass, the blades of which looked sharp as a sword but felt soft beneath his hands. Like a pillow to lay down on. Like an embrace. Like a home.

Witchers had no home. They only had the path, and yet, looking at this strange forest with its whispers and stagnant sun, Geralt had not even this.

“I am lost,” He called out, an act of pure desperation that never before had he allowed himself to admit to. His voice was raspy and scratched at his throat like shards of glass. As if he hadn’t uttered a single word for weeks.

Lost.

The haunting reply came in his own voice. A chill raced down Geralt’s spine and his fingers fisted into the grass, desperate to cling to something.

“I don’t know the way.”

Away.

An unshakable fear seized Geralt. He didn’t care how his voice broke, how his body was already broken.

“I need help.”

Witchers didn’t need help. They didn’t beg. And if they ever did, their pleas would go unheard.

Not so Geralt’s.

Something snapped to his right. He winced, his hand instinctively reaching for his silver sword. The medallion on his chest vibrated furiously.

He pushed himself to his feet, trembling with the effort, but unwilling to be on his knees like a condemned man waiting for his executioner.

The snapping of twigs and rustling of leaves stopped for a moment, a quiet laugh that sounded like water tumbling over rocks replaced the sounds.

“I found you.”

Geralt stiffened. It was the same voice as the first whisper he had heard – the voice that had lured him here. Only this time, it wasn’t a whisper on the wind. It was very real and far too close for comfort.

Witchers didn’t receive help. Whatever had answered his call must have darker intentions.

“Show yourself!” Geralt demanded, gripping his sword tighter.

For a moment, everything went still. No more whispers, no lullaby, not even the rustling of leaves in the wind.

Then, the bushes to Geralt’s right parted and someone stepped through. No, not someone. Something.

The creature in front of him looked how someone who had only ever seen a human’s shadow might imagine a human to look like. The being walking towards him was taller than any human could be, towering over Geralt. Their limbs were too long.

When their lips parted for a smile, the rows of teeth in them were sharp as a wolf’s.

“What are you?” The question left Geralt before he could think better of it.

The being cocked their head to the side curiously, too-blue eyes wandering over Geralt’s body, as if they didn’t even notice the sword pointed at them.

“I’m the Second Chance,” the being said, their eyes flashing with something Geralt didn’t dare name. “Yours, if you want me to be.”

“Who else’s second chance are you?” The question didn’t make sense, but Geralt had no control over his tongue. There was something about this creature – person? – that urged him to say things he didn’t understand. It was as if deep down, he already knew the answer, as if a part of him had known this person for a long time.

The being didn’t reply, but they raised their hands to their side and brushed lovingly over something. The air flickered in front of Geralt’s eyes, making him nauseous and dizzy, yet when he tried to look closer, he could only see shadow behind the creature. Until they flicked a hand behind them and the shadows parted, revealing a smaller figure. A girl with blonde hair that stared at Geralt with big green eyes.

Geralt sucked in a sharp breath.

It was Ciri. The one who had been lost to him.

And she was standing behind a creature powerful enough to lure even a witcher in. A creature who now placed a clawed hand on Ciri’s shoulder – the shoulder of the girl Geralt was sworn to protect.

“Let her go.” The demand left Geralt’s lips like a beast’s snarl.

“Go?” The being’s eyes flashed dangerously. “I made a promise to keep her with me. I don’t let any lost soul go.”

Their eyes bore into Geralt’s, searching through his soul, laying bare everything he was.

A boy, lost and abandoned by his mother.

A man who had lost a fight with the woman he thought he had loved – losing the fight, losing her, losing what he had been so sure had been love.

A human, who had lost his humanity.

Geralt, who was nothing but lost.

And there in front of him stood a creature who kept lost souls. The being sucked in a deep breath, closing their eyes as if they could taste all of Geralt’s losses.

They would keep him. Him and Ciri, damned forever to wander this cursed forest in which time stood still and echoes whispered into his heart.

He couldn’t let that come to pass. Not for Ciri.

Geralt knew his life was lost as well, even as he swung his sword. It didn’t matter. He had to save Ciri, had to get her out of this creature’s grasp.

There was a cry when his blade pierced the being’s chest. Was it his own cry or Ciri’s? Was the whole forest screaming as its master fell to their knees? There was only one voice who didn’t join the cry of agony. One, who was deadly silent, as life drained from it.

Blue eyes shot open, staring at the blade buried in the being’s chest with curiosity that quickly turned into resignation. For but a heartbeat, fear flickered in the being’s expression.

Fire blazed in those blue eyes. Fire poured forth from the wound instead of blood. Fire came to life in the being’s hair, searing the dandelion-yellow strands and racing over their body until all that was left of them was dancing flames.

Geralt watched in horror, as the flesh turned to ash before his very eyes. No, not ash. Dandelion seeds.

The wind picked up, tearing at Geralt’s hair, pushing him away, making the dandelion seeds tumble through the air in a wild dance.

Leaves tore from the trees, yellow flower petals, bits and pieces of the forest. All was dancing through the air, forming shapes and breaking apart again. The grass that had been so soft a moment before, shot up, grew faster and higher than any plant could, forming the shape of legs, of a torso, of a head. And still the leaves whirled through the air, obscuring the sight to the body that formed right in front of Geralt’s eyes.

A pit opened in Geralt’s stomach and the realisation of what this meant crashed into him with the force of a cockatrice slamming into its prey.

The being wasn’t dead. But it was only a matter of time before Geralt was, dying at the hand of the creature he couldn’t kill.

Geralt’s sword slipped out of his limp grasp, landing on the ground with a soft thud.

Geralt followed a moment after, his knees hitting the ground once more. This time, his executioner wouldn’t hesitate.

Geralt couldn’t protect his child surprise. Not in the years to come. But there was one thing he could do in this moment, one last act of desperation to save a life that he had always been meant to guard with his own.

“I make you a bargain!” Geralt’s voice got drowned in the howling of the wind, and yet, the ever-changing shape of the being turned towards him. Geralt’s throat went dry, his chest tightening. “My life for hers.” Through the whirlwind of leaves and blossoms, Geralt met Ciri’s gaze. Her eyes were wide and terrified. She was his to save. “Take my life and give the girl back hers. Let her go.”

Geralt bowed his head, awaiting judgement. For failing Ciri. For failing Vesemir and not being able to kill this creature. For failing himself. For losing, just when he had finally found the girl he had been looking for.

The wind didn’t falter, yet it changed course. The petals drew closer together, reaching towards Geralt like a hand.

A soft touch brushed his chin, tilting his head upwards, forcing him to look at the swirling shapes before him.

Though the being had no lips yet, their voice was clear and crushingly loud, coming from all around him. Every tree, every blade of grass, the very air spoke with the being’s voice. “Oh, but I don’t even care about my own life, why would I care about yours?”

Despite the roaring volume, the voice was achingly soft, like sweet nothings whispered in Geralt’s ear. The petals brushed Geralt’s cheek like a lover’s caress.

Geralt’s heart pounded in his chest, like a drum, growing faster each second, it’s rhythm dictated by the song that made this creature be.

“There must be something – how can a life be meaningless to you?” Geralt’s voice broke and his eyes flickered over to Ciri again. The child he hadn’t wanted. The life he had tried to push as far from his path as he could.

A sharp sound pierced the air, reverberating in Geralt’s bones. Only when it cut off abruptly, did Geralt recognise it. A laugh, devoid of life or joy.

“I am a phoenix, my dear.” The endearment cut into Geralt, broke him apart, made him wish that he could be more – that he could be found. “Death is just an insect to me – it stings, but has no lasting effect.”

“Liar.” The rasped out word cut through the symphony of sound.

Within the blink of an eye, everything around him stilled. The wind was still moving the petals and leaves. The being’s shape was still changing, and yet, there was no sound. Nothing, but Geralt’s own heartbeat and his blood rushing in his ears.

Then-

“What did you call me?”

It was only a single voice, within Geralt’s mind. A helpless desperation clung to it. A hunger.

“I called you a liar.”

“I cannot lie.”

Geralt’s jaw clenched and he forced himself to stare up at the swirling shape.

“Then you are a fool, if you truly believe your own words.” His hands trembled and he had to clench them into fists. Each word he spoke, dug his own grave deeper and yet, he couldn’t stop. It was as if there was something tying him to this creature, something telling him that he could know them, just as he was certain the creature knew him. “If death is like the sting of an insect to you, then it is more than just a passing irritation. Adults still remember when they had been stung by a bee as a child. Warriors flinch back from wasps, even knowing the stinging will pass. Gnat’s bites will itch for weeks.”

“Pretty words for a man who had first used his sword before attempting to speak. Yet the cut of your words hurts me as little as your sword did.” The caress of the petals left Geralt and he nearly found himself following their receding touch. “I do not care for my death, nor do I for my life.”

“Then why am I still alive? If life and death doesn’t matter to you, then why did you not just end mine?”

Unless…

I don’t even care about my own life, why would I care about yours?

They had never said they didn’t care about Geralt’s life. It had been a question – unable to either be a lie or a truth.

The only life they didn’t care about was their own.

It didn’t make sense. And yet, as minutes, days, an eternity passed and the being still hadn’t taken on a new shape, a vessel for their new life, no doubt was left in Geralt’s mind.

“Then let me give you something else,” Geralt whispered, his mind racing. In the stories, the creatures entrapping children in their realm and bargaining for their lives only ever wanted one thing. “If you let her go, I will give you my name.”

Something changed in the air. An almost palpable tension pressed down on Geralt, making it hard to notice anything around him but the dancing petals.

“Oh, my White Wolf.” The name the being spoke wasn’t Geralt’s name, and yet Geralt felt a tugging in his chest, a soothing caress, a gentle promise. It felt like his. And it felt like the being’s. “I already have your name.”

“Then what do you want? What…” Geralt trailed off, only now noticing the hint of something heavy in the being’s voice. It had Geralt’s name. Yet, Geralt had no way of referring to the creature. He didn’t know them. Perhaps no one did. “Then I give you permission to tell me your name. You may let me get to know you. You may ask to not be…to not be lost without anyone knowing who you are.”

Yearning. Hope. Helplessness.

How a being without a form could make their emotions so apparent, was beyond Geralt, but there was no denying it. The air felt lighter, the grass brighter and the silence was replaced by a soft humming, not unlike the lullaby Geralt had heard earlier. The forest was pulsating like a heart, was living off of the being’s longing to be found.

“I can’t give you my name,” the being said. “I can’t ask of you to hear it. I don’t want you to know it. I care not for my life, nor any life I’ve lived before.”

Something rose in Geralt’s chest. A fluttering, a certainty.

People linked by destiny would always find each other. This wasn’t destiny. It wasn’t any outside force pushing them together. It was two people being lost, finding each other.

Two creatures, inhuman in their own way, feared by those who didn’t understand with no one to care enough about who they were. Neither of them had had a choice in who they wanted to become. Neither of them had chosen to be lost as they were.

The witcher, who’s name had been replaced by a hated moniker. People didn’t know him as Geralt. He was the Butcher of Blaviken.

And this being before him - this Second Chance? Who had they been? Who could they have been if they had the chance to start a life that wasn’t dictated by what they were meant to be?

“I can be your second chance,” Geralt prayed that he could be what he promised, knowing in his heart that he could. “If you won’t take my name and won’t tell me yours… I can give you a name. A new life that will be more than an itch left by an insect. More than the fear of that short sting that will end it.”

The yellow petals were back on Geralt’s face, cupping his cheeks almost reverently. In that moment, Geralt wasn’t a condemned man on the execution block anymore. He was a man on his knees, asking another being to start a new life, to bind them together in a way that felt utterly right for a reason Geralt couldn’t understand.

There was a plea in the silent touch.

“Tell it to me then.” The voice was quieter than it had been before, yet it felt more urgent than the loudest cry.

Geralt lifted his hand, laying it carefully onto the petals touching his cheeks. Yellow petals. Not tough like a dandelion forcing its way through stone paths, set on coming back to life again and again. No, these petals were different. Softer. Fragile.

“Jaskier,” Geralt said, his voice laced with power he hadn’t known it could possess. Louder, he repeated, “Jaskier. I have found you. You are no longer lost.”

A tremble went through the forest. The wind stilled, but the petals didn’t fall to the ground. Instead, they finally settled on a shape.

The petals caressing Geralt’s cheeks were the first to turn, their touch becoming more solid, warmer, human.

Geralt pressed into the touch, holding the hand that formed in his. Dizziness swept over him as the form before him solidified. Green leaves turned brown as they did in autumn and turned into hair. Petals became red and gave shape to a mouth that was stretched into a radiant smile. Grass turned into fabric, dressing the person whose life was just beginning in an embroidered doublet. A tree bent down, its bark peeling off and turning into an instrument, that the person deftly caught in one hand, the other never straying from Geralt’s face.

Then, the human opened their eyes. Blue again but lacking the eerie otherness. And yet, they were brighter than before, so full of life and for once filled with anticipation of what this life would bring.

This life that Geralt had given them.

Before Geralt stood no longer a phoenix, a creature with no name. They were their own second chance. They were Jaskier.

Even as Ciri rushed from behind Jaskier and flung herself into Geralt’s arms, the witcher couldn’t tear his eyes away from Jaskier.

The new human looked at Ciri with a fond expression on their face, and yet there was a strain around their eyes.

When their gazes met, Jaskier’s lips tugged into a small smile.

“I guess I kept my promise then,” they said in a voice that held no power, but made Geralt’s heart skip a beat nonetheless. “I kept he safe until she was found.”

Geralt’s brows drew together. “You intended to let her go? Then why –“

“I didn’t bargain her life,” Jaskier said softly. “She was free to go whenever she pleased. I – I wasn’t. You gave me my life and I give it back to you. If you want it.”

Without thinking, Geralt shook his head and tightened his arms around Ciri.

“I don’t want your life. It is yours.”

“Oh.”

Jaskier’s lips moved silently, forming the word ‘mine’, as if testing it out for the first time. A smile lit up their face, making their eyes brighter.

“If my life is mine, does that mean, I can choose where I want to go?”

Something twisted in Geralt’s chest at those words. “You are.” Had Jaskier only ever known this forest? If so… “Do you know any place besides this? Will you…if you leave on your own, will you get lost again?”

A gleam entered Jaskier’s eyes and they slung the strap of their lute around their neck, their fingers finding the strings of their new lute.

“I won’t,” they said, their face set in conviction. “Because if I get to choose where I am going, I will be following you, Geralt of Rivia, my White Wolf.”

Unlike before, there was no power to the way Jaskier spoke his name.

“White Wolf?”

Jaskier’s lips twitched and he plucked a couple of chords experimentally. “You have me a new name. If you don’t want my life, the least I can do is return the favour and give you a new one two. A name, people won’t curse. One that will no longer belong to a lost man.”

No longer a Butcher. No longer a mutant, bastard, monster!

Slowly, Geralt nodded. “A life for a life, then.”

“A life for a life.” Jaskier’s expression softened. “A name for a name.”

Two lost people finding each other, silently promising each other to do everything in their power to not let the other get lost again.

#thank you for the prompt!! #fae!jaskier #fey!jaskier #*gestures vaguely*!Jaskier #geralt of rivia #geralt #jaskier #creature!jaskier #fic #my writing #witcher #the witcher #witcher fic #prompt #ciri #geraskier #kinda #i have no idea what this is but it was fun to write

[dragon-kazansky]

Made with love | Helmut Zemo

Chef Zemo AU! 👨‍🍳

Gender neutral reader

Collage by @realremyd

[Previous chapter] - [Next chapter]

Part 6

You are hereby invited to the grand opening of The Iron Grill. Doors will open at 7PM. Tables are reserved for guests.

See you there.

You look at the intricate invitation in Zemo's hand. Glancing up at him, you bite the inside of your cheek in concern. Helmut was disheveled. He was glaring down at the gold lettering on the card.

You reach out brush his hair back into place the best you could. Your touch causes him to look up at you in silence. His big broken eyes are soft, his lips slightly parted.

"He came to see you, it's only fair you go see him," you say softly. You rest your hand on his cheek, thumb brushing along his cheekbone in gentle motions.

"Will you come with me?" He asks, voice quiet and soft. There was a slight pleading look in his eyes.

"Do you want me to?"

"Yes."

You nod subtly. He tilts his head into your palm ever so slightly. You smile.

Sam excuses himself from the kitchen. When he's gone, Helmut raises his hand to place over yours, taking it in his and lowering it from his face. He takes a step closer to you.

"I need you."

Your gaze flickers between his eyes as he stands in front of you.

"Alright."

He brings your hand to his lips and kisses it, before slowly turning around to look at the mess he had made.

You let go of him and step over the mess, kneeling down to start clearing up. He kneels down to, but only to take your hand in his once more, stopping you from picking up anything.

"Don't. I'll deal with this."

You shake your head.

"I want to help. Let me help, Helmut."

He looks at you. He's not going to force you out, and he doesn't want you to leave, not really. He nods and let's go of your hand, gathering things from the floor.

He can't resist teasing you a little, however.

"I thought I told you I have only one name in the kitchen."

You glance up at him.

"Right. Chef."

His lips curl up into a grin. He is looking more like the Helmut Zemo you had come to know.

Both of you tidy the kitchen, Zemo teasing you here and there, while you spent a little bit of time becoming acquainted with hi kitchen.

When you were both done, you head out into the front. A few customers had come in. Zemo and Sam nod at one another. The table that Stark had used was now clear.

Zemo looked at you.

"I shall let you get on with your day. See you tonight?"

"Yes. See you tonight. I'll meet you here?"

He nods.

Helmut stands by the door of his beloved restaurant as you leave, waving at you with a smile as you turn to look at him once more.

This man was head over heels for you.

When you return to the hotel, Wanda is there. She smiles at you as you enter. You can tell by the look on her face that she wants to know everything.

You stand beside her bed, of which she was sitting on, and smile at her.

"Go on, ask."

"How was it?"

You sat down on your bed and looked at her. There was a happy smile on your face, one that lit up your entire expression.

"It was fun."

"Tell me more. I want to know all about your future husband," she grins.

"Wanda!"

"Come on, tell me!"

You sigh softly and look at her.

"I had fun. I really did. We made a paella for Stark. Helmut showed me how to do it. Even let me have a go here and there, though I mostly just handed him the ingredients. It was nice spending so much time with him."

"I hear a but coming."

"Well, kind of. I think he really likes me. He really wants me to move out here. He wants to see me every day. He even offered me job."

"That's good though! He likes you."

"Yeah, it's just a huge ask. Also, we're going to dinner tonight."

"Look at you! Your first date! Or does today count as a date?" She looks deep in thought. You roll your eyes.

"It's not a date! Stark invited Helmut to his restaurant tonight. It's the grand opening. Helmut asked me to go with him."

"That sounds like a date to me," she grins at you.

"It's not a date."

"Still, you have to look nice. Not just for your handsome chef, but also for Stark. I looked him up while you were gone. He's a big deal in America, you know. He has several restaurants across the States. Many small businesses have closed up shop because they couldn't compete with his business," she tells you.

"Don't say that. I can't tell Helmut that! The restaurant is his pride and joy," you say, worried.

"I'm just telling you what I know. Go there tonight, see what the deal is. You never know, it might not take off over here. This is his first restaurant outside of the US."

"His first?"

"Yeah," she confirms.

"I wonder why he chose Sokovia of all places. Don't get me wrong, I love it here, but you would think someone like him would pick a more popular country."

"Yes, you would, wouldn't you?" The look she gives you makes you wonder if she's suspicious about all of this.

"I'll see what happens tonight then."

She nods and stands up.

"We have to get you an outfit. Something that will blow him away," she looks you up and down.

"Stark, or Helmut?"

"Helmut, obviously. We need to make him fall in love with you more."

You just shake your head with a laugh. What would you do without Wanda Maximoff in your life? You would never know.

Wanda took you shopping right then and there.

When evening came around, you stood with Wanda in your hotel room. She smiled at the outfit you had chosen. Nothing too fancy, but something stylish that stood out just enough. It should be enough to catch Helmut's attention, and be enough for Stark's restaurant.

"You look amazing!"

"Thank you!"

You felt amazing. You look at yourself in the mirror once more and then let Wanda basically ban you from the hotel room. You weren't allowed back in until after dinner.

You made your way to Zemo's restaurant. He was stood outside the double doors waiting for you. He was dressed smart, neatly ironed shirt, slacks, loafers that looked brand new. A casual, yet smart, blazer hugging him nicely, just tight enough to define the muscles in his arms.

You forced yourself to look at his face before you got carried away.

He looks so taken back when his eyes land on you. His eyes scan you up and down, stunned by how good you looked.

You smiled, rather shyly because of the way he was looking at you, at him and came to a stop in front of him.

"Hi."

"Hello. You look... wonderful."

"Thank you," you could feel your face getting warm. The way this man can make you feel so shy felt bewildering to you. "You look really good too."

Helmut glances down at his outfit.

"I maybe a little under-dressed compared to you, but we certainly make a fine pair. Shall we?" He offers you his arm.

You nod and take it, both of you walking across the plaza.

"Any idea what might happen tonight?" You ask, taking in the quiet atmosphere around you. Most people had gone home by this point.

"No idea, but I won't stand by and let him insult me or my restaurant again," he says, firmly. You can see the rage flash in his eyes.

"Neither will I, Helmut."

He smiles at you. His smile is always the most dashing thing you've ever seen.

You both make the small walk to The Iron Grill with no trouble at all. It's quite busy outside and you can already tell that alone bothers Zemo. You give his arm a little squeeze and he smiles in return. You both make tour way to the door.

"Invitation?" The man at the door asks.

Helmut holds up the card Stark had left behind for him that morning. The man nods and let's you both in.

The entrance to the restaurant is buzzing just as much as outside. People, all dressed up smartly, were scattered about. You didn't really know where to look.

Stephen Strange spots you both and comes over with ease.

"Good of you to make it."

"Well, it would be rude not to come," Zemo said, biting back anything be actually wanted to say.

"Yes."

Strange led you both over to a table. Zemo stopped Strange from pulling out your chair by doing it himself. You smiled softly at Helmut for that. He sat himself down opposite you, ignoring Stephen.

Strange walked off with a sigh.

"I feel so out of place here," you say, looking around the room.

The restaurant was big. At least 2 dozen tables. The kitchen was visible right at the back, you could see chefs cooking away back there. Strange was acting ad host, guiding people to tables. The ceiling was high up, miniature chandeliers hung evenly around, right above every table. It was fancy, but not overly posh. Classy.

A bit much for a grill house, but Stark clearly had the money for it.

Speaking of, he was no where to be seen.

"Don't worry, I do too. Escorpión Morado is a family business. This is high end business. He's here to make a profit, not to make connections and provide people with comfort and love in the form of food."

You nod, agreeing.

These two were so different from each other.

Three loud claps sounded from the other end of the room. You both turned to look. Tont Stark, wearing an expensive suit, was seeking attention.

You could almost feel the way you wanted to glare at him.

"Welcome, welcome, welcome! This is the grand opening of The Iron Grill! I'm glad to see you all could make it. Many of you have flown far and wide to be here tonight."

You look around the room.

These weren't customers, these were business partners. Now you and Zemo felt even more out of place.

"It's with great pride and pleasure I present to you a taste of my menu."

He claps loudly again. Many carts come barreling out of the kitchen, each being pushed by a waiter or waitress. Each of them were dressed to the nines in carefully designed uniforms.

Whereas back at Escorpión Morado, Zemo's staff were dressed more casually, just wearing aprons with an EM stitched into them delicately.

One such cart comes to a stop next to your table. You glance at Zemo, who meets your gaze. The tall waiter pulls the sheet from over the cart and you a presented with a selection of dishes, all three shelves of the cart full with different colours and flavours.

This was... something.

Another waiter came up to the table and poured you each a glass of champagne. Tony was holding up a glass of his own.

"To The Iron Grill!"

Everyone else cheered, but you just slightly raised your glass with Zemo before taking a sip.

"Bon appetite!"

All the waiters simultaneously pick up the same plate from the cart and place it between you both.

You both take a bite each.

"So, we're here to taste test his menu?" You ask, having absolutely no opinion on what you just ate.

"It would appear so."

"We spent all that time making a paella, something from the heart, only to come here and have taste of his insanely large menu?"

Helmut sighs softly as he puts his fork down.

"It will never work. His menu is too big, no feeling is put into the cooking, everything is too basic. He isn't trying."

You reach put and place a hand on his, which is resting on the table.

"He won't last the year. Your restaurant is everything and more, he can't top that."

The way he smiles at you let's you know they he believes your words. He's thankful you came here with him tonight.

This goes on for hours. It's getting on for 10 PM when he thanks everyone for coming. Zemo pulls out your chair for you, taking your hand in his as you stand. You sigh.

You had tasted all the main courses on the menu, and then you got to choose a dessert to try at the end. Both of you chose something different so could try each others deserts.

Honestly, desert was the best thing on the menu, but that was it.

As you neared the door, Tony stopped you both from leaving.

"Will you wait just a bit longer, I want to talk to you."

Zemo reluctantly agreed.

You all waited for the restaurant to clear out before sitting down again. Stephen joined you all, offering more champagne, but neither you nor Zemo touched the flutes.

"Did you like my menu?"

You and Zemo shared a subtle look, both of you nodded, though you considered it very normal and bland compared to what Helmut serves under his roof.

"Good. We think we'll do quite nicely here. I'm going to cut to the chase, I want to buy your restaurant, use it to expand our empire."

Helmut had never stood up so fast. The bang from his fist hitting the table startled you. He was seething. If looks could kill, Stark would have taken his last breath just now. Zemo's eyes were glaring holes into the other man's skull.

Strange had the audacity to slip a cheque across the table. There were far too many zeros on it.

"No."

"Hear me out-" Stark began.

"No. The answer is no."

You stand up, taking Zemo's other hand in yours. He didn't turn his gaze away from Stark, but his hand did wrap around yours.

You glared at Stark.

"How dare you even say such a thing."

Tony didn't look at you, keeping his gaze locked on Helmut. However, he did hold up a finger at you.

"I'm not talking to you."

Helmut was going to say more, but Stark spoke first.

"I'm offering to buy your restaurant here and now before you go bankrupt due to lack of business. If I buy your restaurant, you can keep your job and your staff. However, the whole place will be remodeled in the image of The Iron Grill and I would own the building."

You scoff.

"How dare you!"

"Again, not talking to you," Stark glanced at you this time.

"No! I'm not just going to stand here and let you insult him further. You cannot have Escorpión Morado, it belongs to Helmut. It was his father's business, passed down to him, and you're just going to remodel it? Do you not care about it's history, it's importance? You have the audacity to invite us here and say this? I cannot believe you! You may be a big shot billionaire, but there are things more important than money."

You failed to notice the way Helmut had turned to look at you as you went off on your passionate speech. His eyes had softened, his lips curled up ever so slightly at the corners.

Gosh, he was so in love with you.

You were standing up for him, for all he had left. How did he get so lucky to meet you?

"Fine, but you'll see."

Stark picks up the cheque and pockets it, not once looking away from Zemo who was still looking at you.

You give a tug to Zemo's hand, he smiles as he follows you out, both of you done here.

Helmut didn't look back, unable to look away from you. Once you were back pit on the street, only then did you turn back to Helmut. You couldn't help smiling at the way he was looking at you.

"What? Why are you looking at me like that?"

"You're amazing," he grins.

"Don't be silly."

"I'm not. I mean it. The way you defended me, my restaurant, my heart could burst with joy."

"I only said the truth. He can't have Escorpión Morado, don't give it to him!"

"Over my dead body."

"Don't say that!" You stand in front of him, frowning at him.

Helmut just chuckles softly and let's go of your hands to place his on your face. He holds you gently, just looking at you with a goofy smile.

"Stark will not have my restaurant. Not if I can help it. You'll see, his very own will fail within the year."

"I believe you," you say, softly.

"Stay."

"Helmut..."

"Stay, please."

"I can't."

His dark brown eyes flicker between yours with a pleading gaze. He was so desperate to keep you here beside him, to keep you in his life.

But you had to leave.

He needed to give you a reason to stay. A reason so big that, even when you go home, you'll never forget it.

He kisses you.

He's quick and swift in kissing you. Your mind blanks as all you can feel are his lips on yours, his hands on your face.

You're kissing him back.

You just melt. You give in. You want it.

You can't bring yourself to stop him.

You're utterly in love with him and now he knows it. He can feel it. Just like how you can feel his love for you.

He was a reason to stay.

He pulls away, but does not move his hands. He gives a goofy smile as he looks at you.

"Stay."

All you can do is smile at him.

@namethathasnotbeentaken @belle82devart @cathrin2405 @lieutenantn @wilder-fangirl @latenightartist-author @lucky-luck-lucky @hb8301 @charistory @thatoneartgalsstuff @thesuitkovian @malkaviangirl @zemosimp420 @realremyd @the-chaotic-cow @lostghostgirl94 @zafiro-draco @lazygurl05 @pinkcutiepiee @goddessofmischief03 @whovianayesha @myybebe @awesomesauce-abbie @that-stupid-head-tilt-thing @zemo-is-my-muse @nonamec0s @apparrio @scuttle-buttle @alex-the-nb @my-blood-is-maple-syrup @greeneyedblondie44

#zemo x reader #helmut zemo x reader #baron helmut zemo #helmut zemo #marvel #au #chef zemo au

[leviiattacks]

Two Faced | Chapter Ten

↳ levi ackerman, the very person who was about to kindly behead you by a surprising turn of events manages to become your loving husband? you would be elated if this was true love, but it’s all thanks to a mysterious magic spell that your life is spared, for now at least.

pairing :: duke!levi x duchess!reader genre :: royal au ??? (at this point idek) angst, fluff, slice of life etc ?? word count :: 4k author note :: haha.... wowww it's been long since i last updated. honestly my physical and mental health have just been horrible... that's about it, i lost a lot of motivation but if you're still reading i am very thankful and i will try to deliver the story well. i tried my best but writing whilst sick is very tiresome :-) tags :: @patience-is-here​ , @chwlogy​ , @a--nonymousse​ , @imkumichan​ 

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Keeping yourself cooped up within Levi's estate and never daring to step a foot outside should have been what you had done. Blackmailing him to keep you confined within the walls of your bedroom would be much better compared to the problem you have to resolve now. Perhaps if you had done so you wouldn't have collided face first into this muddle.

Jean fiddles with the ends of his button up, he doesn't take the chance to glance up at any of his superiors. He's either much too embarrassed or has nothing noteworthy to start off with.

Erwin chooses to call the shots seeing as neither you or the Viscount by your side wish to begin.

"You both understand why we're here. Correct me if I'm wrong?" The Commander looks between you, Jean and your unfortunate excuse of a husband. Suddenly it looks as if the gears and cogs in Jean's brain move without warning.

Offering a demure nod you expect for him to follow in your footsteps and do the same only he stands there looking between you and Levi.

"Wait...The two of you are? A couple?" Stunned isn't the word, Jean's completely flabbergasted.

"If you figured that out this late, I do not understand why Erwin sees you remotely fit for my team." Levi's beyond insulted at the fact he's only just understood the situation.

Jean, now more intimidated than ever before straightens his back and coughs clumsily, "Sorry." He murmurs chestnut eyes making contact with the hardwood floors.

The Commander's laced hands sit atop his desk, elegant fingers moving similar to honey on a spoon. He sighs not out of fatigue but pride. Whatever plan he's come up with has to be decent at the very least, his body language is telling you that much.

"We have a number of possibilities we can choose from. We owe that pleasure to Mr Kirstein here." Erwin offers him an almost cynical smile, you can't help but gulp thinking about how this is essentially your fault. With all the constant training sessions and team building tasks it makes sense for Jean to have completely forgot about your unspoken rule. Solely blaming him is incorrect.

Raising your arm above your head to intervene you make it known that you're aware of Levi shooting you a look of warning by returning it. It's best he knows you don't care for anyone's opinion let alone his.

"Permission to speak Commander?"

Your request is agreed to immediately with the wave of  Erwin's hand.

"It's my fault for not reminding Jean. I'll take the blame, I hadn't even told him the full story concerning me and Levi."

Levi doesn't enjoy your defense in the slightest. "I don't expect my wife to fling herself at other men and allow for them to snoop around gathering the details of our personal lives."

Scoffing you shield yourself with your arms over your chest.

"Oh dear husband. If you want to get personal do tell me where my family is?" It's an inside joke only Levi will be able to understand.

"If you call those people family your standards are disgustingly low."

"Maybe that explains why I settled for you."

Again, other's opinions are not at the forefront of your priority list. Regardless it's quite enjoyable pushing Levi further into a corner with that sentence. You see the internal struggle play out within him. Jaw clenched, hands balled together. He doesn't have an appropriate response

Jean bursts out unable to hold it in any longer, chest trembling with every quake of laughter that ripples through him you have to shove him with your elbow. For a Viscount his etiquette sure is nonexistent.

"My word, the two of you sound like..."

Levi stares at him most probably expecting something along the lines of "An old married couple."

But, no. It's nothing anyone in the room expects. That includes you.

"It's as if you're unhappy with each other..."

Not a noise is made after that. Jean isn't mistaken, your heart is miserable. You've never had many relationships to begin with, whether it be familial, romantic or platonic and for someone such as your husband to treat you the way he does - it feels futile having to navigate around the complexities. Even if he isn't really your husband it's disappointing to reflect on your marriage so suddenly.

Feeling your face droop a little you bite your bottom lip with your teeth. Hearing the truth from someone you barely expect to hear it from has an effect on you.

You're so caught up analyzing everything it takes you a minute to even register Levi grumbling and lunging forward pilfering the collar of Jean's shirt.

"Every day you prove to be more and more pathetic than I expect." Levi turns to look at you after that. His stare bores into you but he doesn't come off threatening, you assume his last remark is directed solely at Jean.

When he turns back only glaring at Jean now with even more tenacity than before. He's ready to snap but Erwin has clearly had enough of the unwanted altercation in his office.

"Enough. The both of you. This is most bothersome." At the Commander's orders Levi is silenced although it takes all of his resolve to do so.

Finally bothering you take a good look at Jean. He's calm in an incredibly out of character way.

Is this not the man who trembled in his boots the first time he and Levi came into contact? It's almost as if he seems pleased with himself for drawing out such a reaction from his Captain.

Erwin shuffles through stacks of paperwork on his desk. The man needs an assistant at this point. You doubt you could find anything in that haphazard pile. Edges of crumpled paper poke out uncomfortably and Erwin becomes increasingly annoyed when he can't locate what it is he's looking for.

Just as you're about to ask if he requires any assistance it seems he's found what he's been looking for, that's if his eyes are any indication of the relief he feels.

"This." He holds up the paper, all eyes in the room are trained on it. "Under normal circumstances would not have to become an option."

"But these aren't normal circumstances?" Jean's thoughtless question is irksome when the answer is so obviously staring him down in the face.

Nonetheless Erwin nods incapable of losing his cool over something so minor.

"Sign to confirm to my proposition."

The document he places onto the desk isn't what you imagine, you can practically feel the dread climb up your throat once you're done scanning it. Jean's full name placed right next to yours in bold lettering has your stomach lurching. You don't have to read the rest to understand the new circumstances you've landed into.

To make matters worse Erwin places two rings down right in front of the both of you.

A pot of boiling hot water is what you've been thrown in.

Are you supposed to be some sort of replacement for potatoes? What's Jean in this scenario? Carrots?

"It is troublesome to have the two of you put on an act to be involved with one another but I see it as our safest option." Erwin notices your parted lips and slacked jaw. "You need not worry this isn't a marriage contract, you're simply acting."

There's no path out of this pot, you and Jean will simply have to deal with the prospect of being boiled alive.

Ah, you forgot to mention who would act as the hot water but you're sure the suspect is obvious.

Even right now Levi's fury radiates off of him, it's unclear if he was given the details of the Commander's plan beforehand but if his furrowed brow and pursed lips are indicators of the truth he must have had no idea.

Your suspicions are confirmed to be correct once Levi reaches forward plucking the paper away, it just so happens he's snatched it away the very moment Jean leans in to get a closer look at it.

"I was never informed of this."

Erwin gives him a guarded smile. "Do you have any jurisdiction over what I think is best?" Is his freezing reply.

"Yes. When it concerns my wife and another man - Correction. I meant boy."

Jean's taken aback by the subtle jab and shamefacedly shoves his hands into his pockets.

You watch the scene go down with a perplexed look the entire time. Levi's frustration seems to be legitimate yet he has no logical reason for it to ever be present in the first place. Unless he has a plan which outperforms the one you've just been given he's doing this all for nothing.

"I assure you your wife is in safe hands so long as you stop interfering."

Levi's about to bark back until he catches your confusion. He's become aware of your tilted head and telling expression and only then does he silence himself permanently not before sighing deeply, muttering an expletive under his breath.

 "I’ll sign it.” That seems to be Jean’s indirect way of asking what your choice will be.

“I... will too.” Is your hesitant reply.

Levi only becomes avoidant after that. Half way through Erwin explaining how you and Jean have to look believable Levi just ups and leaves without a word. Perhaps you've hurt his pride but for what he's done to you it's a small price to pay and so you do nothing to make amends. He has no reason to feel uncomfortable, you aren't really his wife, you're essentially strangers. Does he even know your favourite colour? Your favourite food? Your favourite pastime?  

You doubt he does.

Jean and you are rather successful with your act. It feels pleasant having him brush your hair out of your face occasionally or lovingly place a hand on your forehead to check if you've come down with a fever. He laces his fingers with yours when others are around and when they aren't he lets the act go. It's satisfying having a cooperative partner.

Naturally Jean is still a tease, even now he makes the odd suggestive comment or two in passing but you can't say you hate it. In fact it excites you to think of a response that borders the edge of teasing and simple fun between friends.

The increasing openness between the two of you is enough for the cadets to deduce that he's most probably the noble man you wed in secrecy.

It's only been a few days since yours and Jean's newfound behaviour, thankfully you haven't been flooded with questions just yet. The higher ups sit nearby during breakfast, lunch and dinner keeping watch over the cadets. It leaves you able to eat and drink without having to handle the constant inquiring of your comrades.

However, you aren't as lucky today. A meeting's taking place and after yours and Jean's convincing act Erwin deems it safe enough to leave you unattended for a short while.

Of course it doesn't go according to plan because when you're involved when does anything ever go according to plan?

The cadets are flocked around your table at dinner as soon as they notice they've been left to their own devices. The opportunity to sit down without everyone invading your space is barely provided to you. Krista is sat to your right leaning into you rather animatedly, Annie has made herself at home sat across you which in itself is completely out of character and slightly unnerving, Annie never and you repeat never concerns herself with you.

"Why did you and Jean hide it?" Armin hovers over your shoulder as per usual. He can't be blamed for naturally being inquisitive and it does give you the opportunity to lay out the foundations of your plan. Now's your time to muster up one of your rehearsed responses.

"It would interfere with work." You respond immediately wanting to appear natural. Pondering on an answer for too long would raise suspicions.

Armin makes a sound of approval and shuffles into the seat next to Krista, that is until Ymir can be overheard telling him to move if he knows what's best for him.

"I have a question." Says a voice across the table, you don't have to look at the blonde parallel to you to know it's her.

For once Annie’s initiated a conversation with you, she’s not particularly great at keeping her intentions discreet. Maybe she doesn’t care if you can tell what she’s up to? But if that’s the case her plan isn’t all that foolproof, there's no way you're to let any details slip away.

Sharply inhaling waiting for what it is she has to say you find that her sentence never comes. Instead she shakes her head and murmurs a "Never mind.". You don't even have the time to ask her to stick around, she's already rose from her seat taking her unfinished plate of food with her, you let her go assuming she feels unwell.

"So how'd you two meet? Jean already told me earlier but I'd like to hear your side." Reiner's taken Annie's empty seat and his gaze is unwavering. The trap they've set up is a clever one. Surveying the hall for Bertholdt you know he has to be observing too. The two never operate alone.

You suddenly hate Reiner. For whatever reason he and his trio are endlessly obsessed with you, they've caught onto something that's for sure but you don't know what it is and now they've completely ensnared you with a backhanded trick. There's no way out of this, you have no idea what it is Jean said to Reiner, the chances of you providing the exact same answer are slim to none.

"My memory is really fuzzy, I don't think Jean gave off much of a first impression so I've forgot." Your horrible excuse doesn't fly by, everyone simultaneously narrows their eyes in disbelief. What you've said isn't convincing at all.

Husband and Wife yet you've forgot how the two of you met?

Fidgeting with the ring adorning your finger the cool metal isn't doing a great job at alleviating the pressure of the situation.

"Jean said the two of you hit it off almost instantly. Who's being dishonest?"

Reiner's either lying to catch you out or he's saying the God honest truth and right now all you can do is hope and pray for a miracle to sweep you off your feet. Mikasa and Jean still aren't within view. At this point you're hoping for Levi to save you, it doesn't matter how so long as you escape unscathed.

"Hey, I think we're just making her anxious with all the questions." Armin is quick to side with you, deep down you know he only does so due to the respect he holds for his Commander. You thank the Heaven's for Erwin's admirable smile and commendable leadership, it seems to be the only reason Armin believes you and Jean.

"Or she's lying." Reiner's resting his head in one of his palms, he's still boring holes right into your frame.

Your eye twitches, this is all unnecessary and uncalled for, whatever it is Reiner wants out of you it better be worthwhile.

He still eggs you on. "You walked out of the Captain's quarters. I saw you."

Standing up and leaning forward you plant your feet to the ground as firmly as you can you.

"And if she did what's it to you?"

Fighting the urge to sigh in relief you've never been happier to hear Jean's voice but something's off. His breathing sounds heavy - like he fought his way to get inside. Turning only then do you notice Mikasa standing by him. She looks equally as exhausted. There's been some sort of a struggle.

"You think it was funny getting Annie to guard the door?" He heaves and runs a frustrated hand through his hair.

"And you think hiding secrets from the rest of us is any better?" Reiner's adamant there's information that the both of you are hiding, he's not wrong but that doesn't change that he's challenging you unprovoked without a reasonable motive.

"We're hiding nothing." Unlike you Jean is sure of his words, he's confident speaking up and he seems to be able to pull off the role of a protective husband perfectly.

“I came out of the Captain’s quarters because he had access to hot water. He said I could use his shower. That’s all it was.”

Reiner quirks an eyebrow upwards and is pleased with your answer. God you’ve said something incriminating haven’t you? It's not incriminating per se but it's without doubt malleable and easy to twist.

“Jean, you were okay with your wife doing that at the dead of night?” Reiner's still leading the interrogation.

“I was the one who suggested it.”

“I don’t believe you’re a couple." If it were Reiner who said that you wouldn't care much, after all it's pretty clear he never believed it but to your displeasure it isn't him who's spoken. Ymir's lopsided grin is all knowing and you're beginning to lose your footing in this argument any second now if any more people start to side against you.

If Ymir disagrees that almost certainly means Krista has her qualms about you too, you've observed beforehand that Ymir tends to speak for Krista on occasion. This happens to be one of those times.

Krista timidly raises her hand and Ymir gives her an approving nod encouraging her to speak.

"I don't like the conflict going on but it is suspicious..."

"Why have I only ever seen you two hold hands?" She asks.

Ymir slings her arm over Krista's shoulder affectionately. "Yeah, I tell Krista I'll marry her every day of the week."

Mikasa mumbles something unintelligible, Ymir gives her a look of warning but Mikasa doesn't seem to care. Instead she repeats what she has to say loud and clear.

"Stick to only speaking when Krista is involved."

Krista holds Ymir by her arm so she doesn't get up, she knows how she gets when she's been provoked. Even if Krista has her suspicions it isn't worth Ymir gaining a permanent penalty point on her record.

Thankfully Armin cuts in. "There's no solid evidence to show they're lying and even if they are the Commander's most probably told them to. Don't you think there's a reason? Leave it be if that's the case. I trust him with our lives."

"We have a right to know." Annie's returned and insists to keep this back and forth going.

Just as you're about to fire back Jean takes a hold of your waist, you look down and seeing his large hands planted securely around your frame has your stomach bubbling with anticipation.

"What are you— "

And then he kisses you, he doesn't ask and instinctively your arms move to whack his chest but you stop yourself in time. You realize it's for the sake of your plan not falling through and so you gently place your hands on his shoulders attempting to ground yourself. It becomes increasingly difficult when you sink deeper into the kiss than you'd like to admit. Blood rushes to the tips of your ears and the thumping of your heartbeat makes it difficult to articulate any thoughts, all you really know is that you like this, whatever this is.

Jean's hands don't feel like they were made to rest against your back, they feel slightly out of place as if he's a key and you're an unmatched lock. In spite of that the circles he comfortingly rubs into the sides of your waist are appreciated, you almost forget you're in a room full of people until you're flooded by cold air.

You've been dragged off of Jean and something in the pit of your stomach has you wishing Levi isn't responsible for the interruption.

To your relief it's just Hange, they're glowing in mischief, the grin on their face shows they aren't mad. They might even find this entertaining.

"Well I be damned... maybe they weren't bluffing?" Connie's been persuaded by the looks of it and Krista's busy whispering to Ymir, you hear the faint sound of the word "Romantic" escape her lips, she's equally as convinced as Connie.

Hange smacks your back light-heartedly and looks to the door for a second. "We leave ya' both for a while and you decide to give everyone a show?"

Erwin's stood by the doorway with a humorous smile playing at his lips, Levi however is anything but amused, he glares at you with murderous eyes, he looks like he's ready to end your life then and there but you know he won't dare do so and for a second you feel braver than you ever have before. Without much thought you grab onto Jean's forearm.

"Me and my husband will get going now!" You allow your gaze to loiter when you get to Reiner. He grunts an apology and you're oh so tempted to ask him to repeat himself but you'd rather not instigate anything.

With that said and done you and Jean leave after giving the performance of your lives.

Slowly but gradually the sky outside becomes dark.

The will to sleep left your body long ago. It's by pure luck that you even manage to catch three hours of rest. Training is the only available distraction and dying out in battle isn't favourable by any means, your boredom may as well be used resourcefully - Strapping yourself up in your ODM gear is the best option.

A quarter way through your warm up you can sense a presence behind you, the leaves rustle and the wind feels noticeably quieter. You'd bother to turn around to see who's intruded but Levi's snuck close enough for you to be able to smell his perfume from where you're stood.

"Feel disrespected? Embarrassed even?" You jab at him knowing it'll rile him up, you don't face him not wanting to give him the pleasure of seeing your face.

"Watch your mouth." he warns sharply.

Rolling your eyes you go about your business, it stays that way for a few minutes. All the while Levi stares at you darting from tree to tree, his scrutinizing gaze scalding you repeatedly.

"Y/N!" He yells at the top of his lungs.

For some unknown reason you automatically stop and lower yourself to the ground

"I have something to tell you." Comes his tense follow up. A finger of his latches onto one of the leather straps on your back.

You can't believe he's still denying the undeniable.

"You can wait till tomorrow. I'll be going to bed."

Levi doesn't seem to care for your cold response and proceeds with no warning.

"I'm jealous." His voice shakes. The grip he has on your harness doesn't let up. With your back turned to him you're still somehow able to detect the very obvious crack of pain.

Levi, jealous?

Gritting your teeth together you feel deceived.

How much longer will you have to tolerate Levi's push and pull?

“May I ask, what he is to you, my love?”

Your breathing grows heavy, tensing up you're completely shocked by the term of endearment that falls from his lips. You haven't heard it for so long, Levi sounds eerily different.

You hate to admit it but a flicker of foolish hope lights in your chest.

"Levi why would you ask— "

"Why don't you call me Lev anymore?" He whispers sounding strangled. You can't take it anymore and hesitantly look his way.

His eyes are filled with tears "I'm sorry my love, I don't know what went wrong." you falter for a second not knowing what to think.

At that moment the flicker becomes a flame.

The man who stands right before you is meant to be dead, never to be seen again. By all accounts this should be impossible, but Lev has always been a fighter.

Bitterness stings your heart, the wounds you've collected are still fresh but despite your body's protests you don't flinch when he gently takes a hold of your wrist, bringing it closer to his mouth.

"Lev...? Is that really you...?" You ask desperately.

The warm kiss he presses against your pulse point provides you with the answer you've been longing for.

#levi #levi ackerman #leviiattacks #aot #snk #attack on titan levi #attack on titan #attack on titan x reader #levi x y/n #levi x reader #aot fanfiction #aot headcanons #duke levi #levi smut #levi fluff #levi angst #levi fanfiction #levi ackerman imagines #levi ackerman fanfiction #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman headcanons #aot imagines #levi ackerman fanfic

[oddsnendsfanfics]

Unraveling in the Sheets

Genre: Fan Fiction

Pairing: Henry Cavill/OFC

Warnings: Language, Sexual Content, NSFW

Rating: M

Length: Short Story

Disclaimer: a strict work of fiction, I own nothing except the original characters and the plot line. In no way am I affiliated to any of it.

A/N: Spoiler Alert, there is smut. Be warned. It's there.

Also, I am no longer doing tags on posts. Since my list exceeds the tag limit. Please feel free to join the chat in place of the tag list.

Henry Cavill Master List

“How did you do it though?” Gliding the car into a free parking space, Henry glanced at Nell in the passenger's seat.

“How did I do what?” Eyeing him curiously, she tried to hide her gloating smile. She could be a terrible winner, even if she wasn't the winner, she had came ahead of Henry.

“You know what I mean, Nelly.”

He looked so silly, his new mustache curling when he laughed or smiled. Nell had to admit, if any man could wear the 'stache Henry did it well.

“Oh, you mean how did I suddenly leave your ass behind and finish nearly 50 positions ahead?” She laughed, crinkling her nose. “I told you, I've been working hard for this. Besides, you're too big. You move slower than I do. It's that simple. Maybe next year, you will finish ahead of me.”

“You're impossible.” Unbuckling his seat belt, Henry hurried to get out of the car and around to the other side, before Nell could open her own door. Nearly there, he frowned when she opened the door, stepping out of the Aston Martin. “You were supposed to let me open that.”

“I am supposed to do a lot of things that I do not.” Nell grabbed her hand bag. “I'll let you open the door, next time. You big dork.”

Henry was always the gentleman, even when Nell would rather rip his eyes out than speak to him in a civil manner. Not that she ever felt the former much, but on the rare occasion. Sometimes that's how things went for ex-lovers. The mid May air was growing cool, leaving a few goosebumps on Nell's exposed arms. She had expected to be back before now, which is why she'd left her sweater in the hotel.

“Well, happy late birthday. It was nice having dinner with your family. I've missed them.”

“They've missed you, too. I could tell that dad was happy you came along. He hasn't talked that much during a dinner since the last time you came over.” Henry smiled fondly. "I'm glad that you came, Nelly." Hands in his pockets, Henry sauntered along beside Nell. Approaching the main entrance, he held the door allowing her to enter. 

When he'd invited her for the weekend, he wasn't confident that she would come. Wrapped up in work, Nell didn't take too much time away from Dublin these days.

"It was a nice break from work." Tucking a piece of hair behind her ear, Nell bit her bottom lip. "I know that you are busy, but do you have a few minutes to talk?"

"I always have time to talk with you." Scanning the hotel lobby, Henry tried to find a spot for them to sit and chat privately. "Should we have a seat at the bar?"

"We could, but I would really like to change. Do you mind coming up with me? We can just talk in the room. It's probably more comfortable anyway."

"Is this about the wild boy?"

"Isn't it always?" 

Laughing, Henry pushed the call button for the elevator. Their son was truly something else. One day he would surely take over the world; Henry could see that coming from the day he was born.  To say Ivan was Henry's pride and joy would be a massive understatement. He lived for their son. This weekend having Ivan, and Nell, in Jersey had been fantastic. A short glimpse of what life could have been. The ding of the elevator brought Henry back from his brief fantasy.

He and Nell had split up several years ago, there wasn't much chance she would feel the same as he did. Lost in the thoughts of happy little family. Allowing Nell to step onto the elevator first, Henry stood silently with his hands clasped in front of him.

“So, Ivan has been doing well in school?” He may as well get this under way.

“Define doing well,” Nell snickered. “I get a call nearly every day from his teacher. The woman is impossible, but knowing our son, he isn't making it easy for her.”

“I was like that in school. Right up until the day I left.” Henry shrugged. The elevator gently bumping to a stop, he stepped forward to hold the door for Nell.

Muttering a thank you, Nell dug for her key card, leading the way down the hall. She loved this hotel, it was the only one she stayed in, if she could help it, while visiting the Island. A great view of the water on one side, the other dazzling with a fantastic look out into the city. The first time she'd ever been to Jersey, she had stayed in the hotel and fell in love with the charm. There were days when that felt like a life time ago.

Opening the door, Nell paused to allow Henry in. “Have a seat. Anywhere you'd like. Sorry it's kind of a mess. I'm going to change.”

The hotel room was anything but a mess, minus the few sketch books that Nell had dropped on the bed. Always working. Henry took a seat on the edge of the king sized bed, casually glancing at the colour coded notes and designs that Nell had in one of the open sketch books. Costumes. A few notes detailed leather armor and Viking era clothing. She'd done well for herself, since he'd met her. The same shy costume apprentice hiding out on set of The Tudors, was now helping drive forward the details of Vikings.

In the bathroom, Nell pulled off her dress. The fabric had became clingy after a while and she needed to be more relaxed. Running shorts and a tshirt would do the trick. Sighing at her reflection, she bit her bottom lip glancing down at her top. The worn coral Nike tshirt was her favourite, it was showing the love and wear in a few spots. Perhaps she should have picked something less frumpy? She was a busy, single mom she didn't have to look the part. Ah fuck, who cared. Henry certainly wouldn't.

He was here to discuss their son, not flirt with her until she gave in to that smile. Or got lost in his eyes, those gorgeous blue eyes – the left with the flecks of brown. His charm alone was enough to make anyone weak in the knees. Damn it, she needed to get over it. He had moved on. She needed to do the same.

Blowing out a breath, Nell reached for the door, pausing when she heard Henry talking. His tone told her that he was speaking to Ivan. Quietly slipping out of the bathroom, she smiled.

“Hold on, just a sec.” He pushed the screen of his phone, allowing the speaker to connect. “Alright, wild boy. Say goodnight to your mum.”

“Mum, momma, mum.” Ivan's voice filled the room. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, Ivan. Are you being a good boy?”

“Uh huh. I love you. Good night.”

“Good night, wild boy. I love you.”

“Night dad.”

“Good night, I love you. I'm going to be back soon, you go to bed and I will see you first thing in the morning.”

“Okay. Oh, dad, can Kal sleep in my room tonight?” Ivan was fond of the large black and white American Akita. Henry laughed.

“Of course he can. You and Kal go to bed, now.”

“Okay, bye.” A little too quickly, Ivan hung up the phone. Henry laughed at the eagerness, he would talk to his mother when he got back to the house. Making sure that Ivan and his dog had gone to bed as they were told, with no fuss.

"Can you believe he is growing this fast? My god where has that time gone?" Henry rubbed his hands against his face. His mustache and subtle stubble scratching his palms. 

"Time is a cruel mistress." Rubbing her hands on her shorts, Nell stood. "Drink? I have a bottle of Johnnie Walker." 

"Of course you do." Smirking, Henry shifted on the side of the bed. “I had a look at some of these designs, by the way. They're magnificent. My god, Nell, you are so talented.”

“You're saying that to be nice,”

Shaking his head, Henry accepted the glass, resting it on his knee. “No, I am saying it because its true. You are one of the most talented costumers that I had ever met. Are you enjoying the job?”

“I love it.” Nell smiled, leaning against the large wooden desk in the corner. “The work is great, the people are amazing, and Ivan is really enjoying it. I'm glad we went.”

“Good, that's good. He talks about it, a lot. He really seems to love being there. I'm glad. Once things settle, I am going to try and come visit. I kind of miss it, Dublin.”

“You should.” She smiled fighting the urge to scoff and roll her eyes. Henry was always busy. He'd make it to Dublin, when Hell froze over. “So, how is work coming on this new character.”

“I can't say much, but I can say that I will be happy when I can shave.” He rubbed the mustache expertly. “It's not as bad as some of the beards that I've had to grow, but it's not my favourite look.”

“You look good with a beard. I know you hate them, but you do.”

Leaning forward to set his glass on the bedside table, Henry licked the whiskey off of his lips. “I'm glad to have that compliment.”

“Sure.” Nell nodded, tipping her glass to finish the drink. “Another?”

“Uh, I'm good.” Henry motioned to his glass. Rubbing his hands across his jeans, he furrowed his brow. “I've been thinking, since I am fairly busy the next few months, what if I keep Ivan for a few extra days? Once you leave, I will take him back to London with me, until I have to go.”

Shifting on the bed, her face warm from the second glass of whiskey, Nell sniffled and cleared her throat. “What about school?”

“What about it? He isn't going to miss much, is he? They're nearly finished up and I don't know how long it will be, until I see him. Possibly not until Christmas.”

All he wanted was to spend a little time with his son, was that so hard? His next move would have to be calculated, Nell had been known to stat arguments over less. If Henry wanted to avoid a shouting match, he would have to go about this carefully. Reaching for his glass, he downed the remaining contents in one large gulp. Sighing.

“I want to hang out with him a little. It wouldn't be more than three days extra. Then you get some time alone, as well. Nell, I know that you need a bit of a break. You work so hard and take care of Ivan, please.”

“If you want to, then I suppose I can't really say no. What kind of mother would I be, if I didn't let you see him?”

“Don't say things like that, please.” Henry reached out, his hand taking hers. Gently stroking the back of her hand with his thumb. “You are a wonderful mum. You know that.”

“Sometimes, I feel like I could do better. I really do.” Nell shrugged, allowing Henry to continue holding her hand.

“All parents feel that way, I am sure. I know that I feel like that, all the time. I guess it's natural, always wanting to do better, to be better, for our children.”

There he went again. There were times when Nell could not stand to be near him, other times she wanted to be as close as possible. Damn it. Watching him talk about Ivan and the few extras days they would be together, Henry's eyes lit up. His smile broad and the enthusiasm in his voice was one that dictated proud father. Nell nodded, only because she felt it was appropriate to the conversation.

Henry continued to chatter about how he wanted to take Ivan to a new exhibit at the Natural History Museum, in London. Leave it to the father and son, finding a day at the museum to be high on the list of fun. Nell sighed, continuing to half listen, half gaze at Henry in awe. One thing she loved – well love could be a strong word – adored? Enjoyed? About Henry was how much he loved Ivan.

Mid sentence about some Sir David Attenborough documentary that he'd watched with Ivan; Nell couldn't help it any longer. Leaning in, without warning, she grabbed Henry's face turning it to her and kissing him. Lips connecting, she stopped and jumped back as if hit by an electric shock.

Clearing his throat, Henry rubbed the back of his neck, but not pulling back. “I didn't know that the National Geographic was that exciting.”

“I'm sorry.” Hiding her face in her hands, Nell shook her head. Oh that had been a mistake. She had absolutely no right. None. Henry was crazy, if he didn't get up right now and walk out. If he was angry, then she deserved that.

Blushing, Nell shook her head. “Henry, I shouldn't have.”

“I'm certainly not going to complain.” He shrugged, leaning in his arm sliding around her shoulder. Nell glanced up, getting the nerves to look at him. Oh she had fucked up. “Next time, I would like some warning though.”

“Warning? Next time?”

“Hmm, yes. Kind of like this, close your eyes.” Henry instructed pulling her closer and kissing her. Nell sighed her body melting against him. She loved the way his lips felt on hers. Soft, with a slight force.

Straddling his waist, her arms wrapped around his neck, Nell's fingers laced together. Her lips leaving his, tracing along his jaw, nearing the sweet spot below his ear. A slight nip and he was an unraveling mess. Henry nuzzled his face into her hair, she smelled amazing. Comforting and warm. A groan erupted from deep in his throat, as predicted she had gone straight for that spot.

“Nell, Nell,” Henry cleared his throat, holding her at arm's length, “Janelle, stop.” Looking for any sort of sign that she truly felt that this wasn't a good idea, he sucked in a breath. “Are you sure about this? Because if we continue, I won't stop until...”

“I am.” She nodded firmly, “I don't want you to stop. I don't want to stop. Oh god, Henry. Please.”

“I need to know that you truly, absolutely want to do this.”

“If you don't stop talking and bend me over, I am going to kick you out and do this myself. Please, stop talking. If I didn't want this, I wouldn't have started it.”

A deep rumbling laugh followed, Henry rolled his eyes. God, she was something else. Who was he to deny a gorgeous woman what she wanted? Would this come back to haunt him? Probably. Did he care? Not much. Come morning they would once again go their separate ways, but that didn't matter right now. Right now, he could pretend that he had everything he wanted. And what he wanted was her.

Pulling her to him, Henry kissed her hard. Nell moaned, the force of the kiss was nearly dizzying. Arms around his neck, she rubbed her body against his, trying to grasp the friction that was created when she started to grind herself against his thighs.

“Henry,”

“Hold on, you need patience.” He brushed a bit of hair out of her face, “all in good time.”

Nell squealed when he stood, her legs desperately scrambling to hold onto him. In a futile attempt she huffed, when he let her go, standing in front of him pouting. Unbuttoning his shirt, Henry smirked giving her a heated stare. “Well, are you going to get on the bed or make me do all the work? Shorts off.”

Sliding the mesh shorts down her ass and along her legs, Nell made a bit of a show letting them pool at her feet. Stepping out, as slowly as possible, while lifting the old tshirt from her body. Allowing it to go where it would, as she dropped it. Sitting back on the bed, she could feel her heart in her throat and her stomach where her heart should be.

“Lie back.” Henry instructed, kneeling at the edge of the bed. Arms around her thighs, guiding her to him, he studied her for a moment. She was trembling as his fingers slid across her thighs, positioning her in just the right way.

“Oh god, Hen-Henry.” Nell's mouth was suddenly dry and her voice hoarse. His hot breath between her legs was tormenting her, in unimaginable ways. In anticipation she bucked her hips forward, trying to clench her thighs. Holding her knees with his shoulders, Henry chuckled.

“Eager.”

“Please.”

“You are...” He lingered, kissing the inside of her leg. “Gorgeous. Look at you.” He brushed his thumb against her. Nell whimpered trying to push further. “Hold on, hold on.”

“Why are you teasing me?”

“Because I want to enjoy the view, for a moment.” He shrugged, her legs lifting gently. A hand on her lower abdomen, as if holding her in place, he used the other to gently tease and trace along her calf. Without warning, his lips attached to the most sensitive part of her body with his mustache adding an extra sensation, Nell bucked her hips hard, shoving his face further between her thighs.

Nell's head was swimming, it had been a while since she'd felt this good from such an act. Sure, she'd had the odd date here and there, semi-serious relationships, but nobody could do this the way Henry could. He was a fucking magician, she was certain of it. Humming against her mound, Henry couldn't hide the laughter in his eyes, when she began to squirm and wiggle against his face. She was desperate and he was going to prolong this as much as he could.

Sucking her clit, his tongue generously lapping at her, he thoroughly enjoyed the show. Pushing his head as far down as she could, Nell was nearly in tears each time he leaned in, his mustache tickling in just the right way. Oh god, she gasped trying hard to find release. Henry was cunning, backing off at the right moments.

“Henry,” She whined, threading her fingers through his hair. “Don't tease me, I really need you to finish.”

“Stop being so impatient.” He was teasingly stern. Pushing her hands away, he locked his fingers with hers, holding them at her side. Lifting his head, he smirked, kissing up her body ending with another dizzying kiss. Nell sucked on his tongue, freeing her hands from his, she tugged him closer, pulling at fistfuls of hair.

Cleaning herself from his tongue and lips, she sighed. “I'm going to need more than that.”

“You're sure?” Henry paused, holding his weight on his forearms, resting above her. His jeans still on, he could feel the strain against the denim.

“Jeans, off.” She demanded, sitting up to watch. Shivering against the slight chill, her breasts on display giving him the perfect view of her erect nipples. Nell blushed under his gaze. She was not the tight, toned, and perky body she once was. She wasn't out of shape, by any means, but compared to Henry...

“You are gorgeous.” Henry complimented, his jeans on the floor, boxers being pushed down to join them. Stepping out of his pants, he stood at the side of the bed, in all his glory.

Nell licked her lips, reaching out to take him in her hand. Hissing under her touch, Henry involuntarily bucked his hips forward into her hand. Rubbing the head, Nell intently watched Henry while she leaned in taking him fully in her mouth.

“Fuck, Nelly.”

“Hmm,” She hummed, sliding her head back along his length. Hand wrapped around him, stroking in place of her mouth. Bobbing her head back down, she swirled her tongue around the base. He nearly choked her the first time she'd ever gone down on him. Oh how long ago that felt.

Dragging her tongue against his length, she felt her core tighten, with each moan Henry gave. His slight salty taste mixed with the aftertaste of the Johnnie Walker, Nell inhaled deeply through her nose, hollowing her cheeks around him. Gripping the back of her head, Henry tried to not force her too hard, as he began to guide her movement.

Happy to go along with what he needed to feel good, Nell allowed him control over her guidance. Her finger nails grazing the back of his thighs, she mentally checked the small victory when he threw his hips forward at the sensation of her wrapped around him and her nails on his skin.

“Good girl,” Henry mumbled, his head lulling back, his chest rising rapidly. “Keep it up, just like that. Oh shit,”

Nell's chest swelled a little, she could still make him feel good, even after all of this time apart. That was not something she would take lightly, even if this shouldn't be happening. Oh fuck, who cared? They were two consenting adults. Henry's legs quivered, his hands unsteady stroking the back of her head.

“Nell,”

“Hmm?” She glanced up at him. His face soft and his jaw slack, she could feel him tightening. The perfect time to stop her actions. “Not yet,” She smirked, wiping her hand across her chin, drool gone. “Fair is fair.”

“Jesus,” Henry grumbled. He had been so fucking close, the knot in the pit of his stomach clenched Slowing his breathing, he took a moment to think of anything else. Laundry? Running? How much longer until he had to renew his passport?

“Henry?”

“Yeah?” He snapped his head to look at Nell.

“Are we going to stand here all night, or...” She shrugged, a devious smirk on her face. Laying back on the bed, she curled her finger beckoning him to her.

“You're still sure about this?” Henry asked. His eyes on her, waiting to see if she had any hint of doubt or hesitation.

“I don't have a condom, but I'm clean. It's not like I'm getting pregnant, so....” If she were to get pregnant, there was going to be on hell of a hefty lawsuit against that surgeon.

“You're sure? I know that I'm...but I don't have.”

“if you don't want to, then I understand.”

“I do, though, but...”

Nell shook her head. “No buts. If you want me, then I'm yours.”

“Fuck, you're making this hard.”

Giggling, Nell glance down. “I think we're beyond things being hard.”

His body betraying him, Henry cleared his throat, she certainly had a point. Fuck it. What did they have to lose? Unless this, some how, came back to bite them. No, no he had to stop that. Give in, enjoy what was happening. It had been too long since he'd been able to watch her in such bliss. Bliss that he was responsible for.

“You're sure?”

Nell nodded siting up, opening her arms, “Come here.”

On the edge of the bed, Henry sighed, his large frame leaning into her. Nell held him for a moment, stroking his hair, the feel of his warmth against her sent shivers through her spine. Pushing him back on the bed, she bit her bottom lip, waiting for the go ahead. Henry gave her a slight nod, adjusting himself on the bed to get comfortable. Straddling his hips, Nell lifted herself to slowly take him.

Sheathing him inch by inch, Nell groaned at the fullness. This was her favourite part, taking him to the end, feeling him stretch her. Rocking her hips forward, she countered the motion sliding them back in the same tantalizing pace. Henry held her hips, pushing his up to meet her. Nell squeaked and giggled. She loved the way he hit all the right spots.

“You can touch me, don't be shy.” Nell winked, lifting her arms and crossing them above her head, allowing him a full view of her breasts. “Go on.” She encouraged.

His large hands cupping her breasts, Henry softly rolled her hardening nipples between his fingers, giving on a slight flick when she moved herself up on his length. Close to letting him slide out, she moved back down, her ass grinding against him.

The way her body moved against his was mesmerizing. Massaging her supple skin, from her breasts down her sides, one hand settling on her ass and the other on her hip. Henry loved the shape, even if she had changed a little since having Ivan. God she was stunning.

Hastening her pace, Nell rocked back and forth, up and down. Henry closed his eyes feeling every bit of movement, each clench. Taking in the sounds of her breathing, mixed with his, her small moans not going unnoticed.

“Henry,” She whispered, biting her bottom lip, leaning forward to touch her lips against his. “Please,”

Without having to be asked twice, he moved swiftly, turning them over to pin her beneath him. Nell sighed and stretched her arms over her head, the pull of her muscles caused another shiver. Her head now against the pillow, she reached, tracing the lines of his face with her fingertip.

“I don't know that I can be as slow as you were.” Henry nipped her finger. Holding back on his desire to pound her into the bed.

“Then don't.” Nell batted her eye lashes at him.

Somehow that was all he needed, that tiny bit of permission. Picking up the pace, Henry grunted. Nell moaned drawing her knees upward, allowing him an even better vantage to this position. As if the pent up emotions from the last few years, hours, minutes had been released the couple were lost in the sensation of skin on skin. The feeling of sparks and electricity coursing through them. Connecting them.

“Fuck, Janelle.” Henry hissed, his arm locked into position on either side of her head, keeping him from tumbling on top of her.

“Henry,” She squealed splaying her hands against his chest, tugging at the soft hairs. “Oh god. Please, don't stop. My god, oh fuck.”

“You are fucking amazing. Fuck, look at you.” Kissing her roughly, he sighed, steadying his pace. His hips slapping hers, Nell shook slightly her soft sobs of pleasure were enough to send him to an end.

Shaking with pleasure, Nell gasped trying to bring herself down from the high. Henry moaned, his head back and chest heaving. It had been a while since he had felt that good. Nell laid with her legs hooked around his thighs, no desire to move. Collapsing with his head on her chest, Henry allowed his body to rest. Sweaty and sticky, they laid tangled together. Neither one wanting to break the feeling.

Dosing in and out, Nell was the first to move. Her body growing heavy with Henry still on top of her. She needed to move, before seizing up. Pushing his head to the side, she giggled and kissed the tip of her nose when he lazily looked up.

“I need to pee,”

“Hmph.” Henry nodded, slowly rolling over. Allowing her to escape. Laying flat on the bed, while she scurried off to the bathroom, Henry pushed himself up off of the bed. He should be getting back to his parents, back to Ivan.

All thoughts of moving were squashed, when Nell came back, climbing in beside him. Her clothes still on the floor. Her body was comforting against his. “Hi,” she whispered, sliding in under his arm.

“Nell?” Henry laid with his arm around her shoulder.

“Huh?” Nell grunted, her face buried in his chest.

“I should head back.”

“If you want to. You can stay, I don't mind.” Nell yawned. Her eyes closing.

“Okay, but only for a little while.” Henry agreed, closing his eyes. In a few minutes, he would get up, shower, and head back.

With a start, Henry woke, a loud banging noise rattling him. Looking around the dark room, he squinted to find the source of the noise. Hearing someone whispering at a distance, Henry laid in bed, listening. Against him, Nell stirred, but didn't wake. Someone in the hall was talking, no doubt they had been the source of the banging. He had fell asleep, Nell wrapped against him.

Looking at his watch, Henry frowned. 4am. If he left right now, he could be back before anybody woke. If he left now, he risked Kal barking and waking the house. If he waited, he would risk walking in and having to explain himself to one or more person. Of course he could tell them that he'd ran into some old friends, had some drinks and stayed on a sofa somewhere. Too drunk to drive.

Shifting in bed, Nell sighed, her arm around his waist she snuggled in closer. She was content, who was Henry to try and disturb her sleep? He would wait an hour or two, before he made his departure. So what if he waltzed in, being faced by one of his brothers, or even his mother. He was an adult, if he wanted to stay out all night enjoying the company of a fantastic woman, then he would do just that.

Kissing the top of Nell's head, Henry smiled, sinking down further into the covers, closing his eyes.

Tag List Chat

#henry cavill #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill smut #oddsnendshenryfics

[hellotvshowtrash]

Angel

Requested by @elijahs-wife​ : Hi Ashlee!! Could you write a fic using the prompt "I think I'm in love with you and I'm terrified"? Sending love 💗💗

A/N: TEHANI THANK YOU FOR THE REQUEST ily 💗 I’m sorry this took me a little bit!! I wanted it to be something worth posting! I’m still iffy on it. 

I don’t think I will never NOT be terrified to send something out into the void, so please like/reblog if you enjoyed!! and if you want to read any more from me, feel free to send me a request! I love all our mikaelson boys (except Finn tbh sorry) so i’m down to write for more than just Elijah!

Elijah Mikaelson x female!reader

Word count: 2,970

tw: kind of sad, mentions of being an orphan, not a whole lot!

credit to the gif creator!!

Elijah stood in the crowd, absentmindedly sipping his champagne while listening in on different conversations. Laughter bubbled throughout the compound at another Mikaelson ball. He sighed and made his way to find his brother. He heard Klaus from far off, bickering with Hope about the dress she had chosen for the night.

"Dad, it's my birthday ball. I should be able to wear what I want!" She huffed. Elijah turned the corner into one of the various hallways of the compound, coming around to see the father and daughter facing off.

He chuckled, "Children, please," he said, eyeing Hope's admittedly short dress. Her hair was curled and she sported a sky blue cocktail dress. "Although your father may have a point," Elijah stated, raising an eyebrow.

Klaus gestured to Elijah, "Thank you, brother!" He exclaimed.

"I'm 18! I'm going to wear whatever I want," Hope said, storming into the party with finality. Elijah walked closer to his brother, putting a hand on his shoulder, stifling a laugh.

"She is very strong-willed, like her father," He said, raising his champagne flute to his lips. Klaus glared at his brother and sighed. "She has a point though. She is a young woman now. Just give her this one night to do and wear what she wants." The men turned and departed the hallway, heading back into the party. Klaus grabbed a champagne flute and headed to stand on a flight of stairs. Elijah stood at the base, looking into the crowd again.

"May I have your attention!" Klaus called out into the large room, "I would like to say a few words about my daughter, Hope." Klaus smiled down at her as he began his speech. Elijah continued to scan the room. His brother's voice faded from his ears when his eyes landed on a woman amongst the crowd, standing with his sister Freya. She was beautiful, wearing a blush coloured, floor-length dress. Her Y/C/H hair flowing down her back in an elegantly curled braid. She beamed up at Klaus as he gave his heartfelt speech about Hope. Elijah felt an unfamiliar sensation in his chest, a feeling he hadn't felt in a very, very long time.

In unison, the crowd lifted their glasses and cheered, "To Hope!" The woman put her glass to her full, pink lips. The room erupted into conversation and movement, and Elijah lost sight of her. As if jogged from a trance, Elijah put his champagne on the nearest surface and began searching the crowd once more. He pushed passed strangers and friends alike to get to where he had spotted her. He broke through the other side of the crowd, looking around for her or Freya. He found the two making their way around the outskirts of the party, talking and laughing together. He took a second to compose himself, putting his left hand in his suit pants pocket. Taking a deep breath, he followed after her.

"Good evening," he said casually, coming up behind the two women. They turned and Freya greeted him with a smile and a warm hug. The stranger stood by with a polite smile on her face.

"Elijah! I was wondering when I'd see you," she pulled away and turned to the woman next to her. "Y/N, this is my brother, Elijah." Freya smiled at Y/N.

"Hello, Elijah," She greeted, extending her hand. Rather than shaking it, Elijah took her hand and raised it to his lips, kissing it softly. Blush crept up Y/N's cheeks as Freya's eyebrows raised.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Elijah said, not taking his eyes off her Y/E/C ones. "May I have this dance?" He heard her heartbeat quicken as she gave a small nod, letting Elijah gently tug her to the dance floor.

"I guess I'll just hang out here! By myself!" Freya called after them, huffing to herself.

--

Y/N was a New Orleans French Quarter witch. That was how she and Freya had met and became friends. Y/N had started coming around the compound more and more frequently over the following weeks, becoming closer to the Original family. Rosie cheeks and stolen glances at Elijah filled her visits under the excuse of hanging out with Freya. She loved her friend, truly, but she couldn't get her mind off of the oldest Mikaelson brother. He, on the other hand, seemed to distance himself from her after his first introduction. She had hoped that she didn't offend him in some way. “Maybe I’m just not his type,“ She thought to herself.

"Y/N?" Freya's voice sounded in Y/N's head, jogging her from her thoughts.

"What, I'm sorry?" She looked at her friend, confused. They were sitting on a couch located in the library of the compound, pulling a late-night together. Her thoughts of Elijah had distracted her mid-conversation.

Freya rolled her eyes. "I asked if you'd like to come to the Halloween party we're throwing here this weekend. Hope wants it to be a big event, and you know Klaus would do anything to keep her happy." Freya smiled at Y/N.

Y/N nodded, thinking about the father/daughter relationship Hope and Klaus had brought a sad smile to her face. She was glad Hope would have the love of family throughout her life. Y/N was alone in New Orleans, growing up in different foster homes and halfway houses. Her real family unknown to her, she had been tossed from house to house because of the unexplainable things that happened around her. Until she met Vincent, back when he was still married to Eva Sinclair. He taught Y/N about what living in New Orleans really meant for people like her. He made her feel like she belonged.

"I'd love to come! Costume party?" Y/N asked, sipping tea from her mug.

Freya nodded, "Hope wouldn't have it any other way."

–

Elijah rolled his eyes. "I will not be wearing a costume. I believe I may just stay behind and let you all enjoy the fun," He said to Hope and Klaus. Hope was trying on her little red riding hood costume for the party that night when she turned and glared at Elijah.

"Come on, Uncle Elijah. Auntie Bex is! I even got dad some devil horns that he's going to wear, right dad?" She looked over at Klaus who grimaced and looked at Elijah pleadingly.

"Yes, darling, I'll wear them," He said, defeated. Hope smiled and looked back at Elijah. Elijah shook his head again, turning to exit the room.

"Y/N will be there," Hope exclaimed as he walked toward the door. Elijah stopped in his tracks and closed his eyes, sighing. She knew that would get him to come. He wasn’t as good at hiding his feelings as he thought he was, or maybe Hope was just perceptive. Hope smiled triumphantly to herself as she turned back to the mirror to look at her costume once more, perfecting the details.

--

Y/N entered the compound, her dress flurrying around her as she was met by a large crowd of people. The sun had set and the party was in full swing. The Mikaelson’s sure know how to throw a rager, she thought to herself. She walked farther into the crowd, her dress and cloak billowing around her. She headed toward the bar, keeping her eyes peeled for Freya.

"There you are!" Freya's voice came from behind her, muffled by the music. Y/N turned and saw her friend dressed in a bright pink dress, star wand in hand with a large crown atop her head. Y/N stifled a laugh at the sight.

"And what are you supposed to be?" Y/N said over the music.

Freya frowned, "What, you don't get it? I'm Glinda! You know, from The Wizard Of Oz?" She flourished her wand in Y/N's face and laughed.  Freya was already a few drinks in. "Who are you supposed to be?" She asked, her words slightly slurred.

Y/N looked down at her costume, and back up to Freya. "I'm Sarah Sanderson! From Hocus Pocus," Y/N twirled in her spot. She and Freya giggled as Y/N spun. Mid-spin, she spotted Elijah coming down the stairs and her breath hitched in her throat. She didn't take Elijah for the costume type, so she hadn't expected him to be here tonight.

He looked absolutely regal in his black suit and tie. Large white angels wings sprouted from his back. He looked around the room while coming down the stairs, not yet seeing Y/N. Freya followed Y/N's gaze and saw Elijah.  She drunkenly put an arm around Y/N's shoulder.

"You know, I think you have a thing for my brother," She accused. Y/N blushed, turning away from the angel.

"I'm the last person he would be interested in if I was," Y/N cast one last look his way before turning back to the bar, ordering a drink. "Let's get this party started," She said to her friend, giving her a smile. She reminded herself to not get attached. Everyone leaves eventually.

--

Y/N and Freya were joined by Rebekah, but they couldn't quite tell who she was dressed as. All they could tell was that it was tight and it was spandex. The three danced and drank in the middle of the party, not a care in the world. Elijah watched from the bar protectively. Something about this woman was so magnetic, so charming. He couldn't bring himself to admit that there was a flame ignited in his heart at the sight of her. He doesn't let people in. She's a mortal witch, her life span was the blink of an eye compared to his. No, he wouldn't let himself get attached. She would see him for the monster he was. He turned to mingle with the crowd, although he never let the three women leave his line of sight.

Y/N was having the time of her life with her friends, drunkenly dancing the night away.

“I’m going to go grab more drinks!” She slurred to the other two girls. They cheered in response as she turned and stumbled toward the bar. She caught the bartender's attention and ordered. He returned with three shot glasses and she thanked him, turning to get back to dancing. Before she could take a step, she collided with someone.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” She cried, slurring her words. She stumbled back to look at the person she collided with, finding the handsome angel she had been eyeing earlier. He pursed his lips, wiping the front of his suit with his handkerchief. “Elijah,” she gasped, “I am so sorry, let me he-”

“Do not bother, Y/N,” he said, holding his hand up. He glared in her direction, not looking in her eyes. She gulped at his response.

“Please, let me make it up to you,” She tried dipping her head to catch his eye. He turned and motioned to the bartender for more shots.

“Have a pleasant evening,” He nodded curtly at her and turned to walk away, leaving her standing there, unsure of what just happened. Anger flared in her chest as she watched the angel walk away. She grabbed one of the shots that the bartender had set out and downed it quickly. Taking the other two to her friends, she let the music take her away, continuing to party.

-

The night continued on and the party began to thin out, while the three girls in the center of the dance floor kept going, laughing and dancing. Elijah had kept his eyes on them, amazed at how the two witches could keep up with the vampire. Elijah looked around at the few stragglers left, sitting around drunkenly talking to one another. He made his way across the compound, heading towards the stairs to head up to his room for the night. The music was quieter now,  not as upbeat. Y/N saw him moving across the dance floor and stumbled as fast as she could to get in front of him.

“Elijah,” She slurred,  “Please let me apologize for earlier. Dance with me!” She scooped him away before he could object, wrapping her arms around his neck, not letting him leave.

“Y/N I-” He started, but she shushed him, swaying to the music.

“Elijah I know you don’t like me that much, and I don’t know why but I just want to let you know that I’m sorry for spilling those drinks on you and I’m sorry for making you hate me for whatever reason,” she drunkenly let her head fall on his chest while she spoke, her eyes fluttering shut.

Elijah’s eyes widened at her speech, his hands falling to rest on her back. She hummed at his touch and smiled, eyes still closed. “Y/N… I apologize for making you feel that way, that was not my intention.” He looked down at her, “I just wanted to keep you safe,” He whispered.

Suddenly Y/N slumped into him, dropping like dead weight. Elijah reacted quickly and scooped her up, seeing she had passed out. He looked toward Freya and Rebecca who had already fallen asleep on the couch, snuggling into each other. His heart warmed at the sight of his sisters together. He refocused on the beautiful woman in his arms and began to climb the stairs, heading toward his room. He gently opened the door and crossed the room, laying her in the bed and covering her up. She adjusted into the comfort of the bed, grabbing Elijah’s hand as he slid his arms out from underneath her.

“Stay with me?” she mumbled. His heart softened and he silently agreed, stripping out of his wings and suit jacket. He crossed to the other side of the bed and slid into it, careful not to touch her. She turned to him and opened her eyes slightly. “Will you hold me?” she asked quietly. Tears brimmed her eyes.

He nodded and opened his arms to her, confused and worried. “What’s wrong, darling?” He whispered.

She moved into his open arms and placed her head on his chest, wrapping one arm around the front of him tightly. He felt his shirt dampen where her head lay. He held her close, rubbing one hand up and down her back, waiting for a response. He felt her start to tremble next to him.

“I think I’m in love with you, and I’m terrified,” she whispered into him. She let out a small cry, scared of his reaction. “I’m terrified you’ll hate me for telling you. I’m terrified you’ll leave if we do end up together. I’m terrified of everything falling apart. I’m terrified of people leaving.”

Elijah’s heart cracked at her words.

“Y/N.. I think I’m terrified to admit the feelings I have for you. I wish nothing more than for your safety and happiness,” He kissed her hair and he felt her relax in his arms. She had fallen asleep on him, inebriated and vulnerable. Elijah held her for the rest of the night, stroking her hair and cherishing the moment.

-

When morning came, Y/N thought her head would explode. She groaned and rolled over, putting her hands over her face. The bed was empty beside her. How did she get in the bed? Her memory was fuzzy, but she remembered large white wings and strong arms carrying her. She sat up in bed, suddenly panicked, realizing who’s room she was in. What else had happened? She concentrated, squeezing her eyes shut.  “I wish nothing more than for your safety and happiness,“ She remembered hearing his deep voice whisper to her before she fell asleep. Her heart thudded heavily in her chest. Had she dreamt of this confession? Did her drunken subconscious trick her into hearing his voice?

Someone cleared their throat in the doorway, startling her. She looked up to see Elijah holding a tray with water, aspirin, eggs, and toast. She blushed intensely, trying to brush her hair down and make herself look decent. He smiled at her warmly. “Good morning. I apologize for startling you,” He said. He crossed the room to her, putting the tray on the nightstand and sitting on the bed next to her.

He stared into her eyes, warmth flooding his chest. “It wasn’t a dream,” he said quietly, confirming her silent hope. He heard her heart flutter at his words.

Tears brimmed her eyes again. She bit her lip and looked down at her hands. “What does this mean for us?” She whispered.

He reached out and moved her chin to look at him. “It means I love you.” He smiled at her. Tears spilled onto her cheeks as she smiled and leaned forward, closing the space between them. She kissed him with no regard for the world around them. Her hands moved to his neck, tangling in his chestnut hair. He pulled her close, deepening the kiss and laying her on the bed. The eggs and toast got cold before Y/N got to them.

-

“I’ve been wanting this since you asked me to dance that night.” Y/N said, playing with Elijah’s hand as they laid side by side. “I haven’t been able to get you out of my head.” She smiled.

He adjusted to put his arm around her and pulled her close, kissing her head. “You will never have to be terrified again. I am here and I’m not leaving you. You have my word.” He moved her chin with his free hand to gaze into her Y/E/C eyes. He kissed her again, hoping to convey his pent up love and lust in one kiss. He knew he’d never be able to make her understand the depths of his affection for her. Just as he knew he may never know the extent of hers for him.

She pulled away slightly and whispered, “I love you and I’m not terrified anymore.”

#elijah mikaelson #elijah mikaelson x reader #The Originals #Check out my wattpad in my bio!!! #freya mikaelson #klaus mikaelson #hope mikaelson #tvd universe #Elijah Mikaelson imagine #rebekah mikaelson #the originals #the originals fanfiction #fic

[slashbitch2]

Chapter Six (Jennifer Barkley x Reader)

Previous Chapter

The entire day, nay week leading up to Jen's arrival was fraught with tension. Time went all too quickly, yet dragged simultaneously. By Friday you were brimming with so much unnecessary energy that your productivity at work was comparable to that of Leslie, who's determination was currently your source of frustration. Had she not been so resolute about giving Jen a 'personal Pawnee tour', than you would've reunited at 5 rather than 9.

Admittedly, it was also your fault for not calling out her lengthy lie, but those extra four hours you had to suffer through were compensation enough.

In an attempt to pass the extra time, you tried to stay at work for longer, but Fridays were your half day and Ron demanded that you go home immediately, lest you do any extra government work. Reluctant to return to an empty house, you'd asked around if anyone wanted to hang out, and were met with a series of rejections.

Except for Ann, who upon being enlightened about the situation, insisted she help you get ready for your date (initially you refuted the title of 'date', but by the second hour of your evening it became tolerated). Her company, though unexpected, was more than welcomed. Having someone to share your excitement with made the increasing tension almost fun.

"Y/N?" Ann waved her hand in your line of vision, catching your attention. "We going in, or just spending the night in the car?"

"Don't tempt me." You muttered, grudgingly dragged out of your thoughts.

In front of you the queue to the The Snakehole Lounge was gradually growing. The sheer amount of people gathered outside was intimidating, so you dreaded to imagine how packed it'd be inside. Staying at home would've been preferable, but it seemed that time alone with Jennifer was not a luxury presently granted to you.

"Come on." Ann nudged you with her elbow. "You've been going on about this all day and now you're going to wuss out?"

You twisted round to face her, illuminated by the flickering multi-coloured lights beaming out the club's windows. She was watching you closely, trying to gauge how you felt based off expression alone. Despite all that was rushing through your mind, you were at a loss for words. How could you even begin to convey what you were currently feeling?

"Stop overthinking it." She said. "There's no way of knowing what'll happen when you see Jennifer again, but only you can change that, so just roll with it."

You paused to consider her suggestion, coming to the conclusion that she was more observant than you gave her credit for.

"You're right." You admitted, grateful that she'd knocked some sense into you. "Thanks." Awkwardly, you leant across the centre console to hug her. You didn't know Ann all too well, but needed some way of showing gratitude for her sensibility.

"This is nice." She relaxed into the embrace, then unwound an arm to glance at her watch. "But we're five minutes late so I'm pretty sure Leslie will be sending out a search party soon."

You chuckled, separating from Ann to glance at the building once more. Jen was somewhere inside waiting for you. She'd voluntarily returned to Pawnee, and to one of its less than fine establishments of all places, just because she wanted to see you again. The very notion had your heart racing.

"I'm ready."

---

The atmosphere of the club was as intense and unruly as expected. By the time you'd adjusted to the blinding lights and deafening music, Ann had already slipped away, replaced by Tom.

"Welcome this evening's esteemed VIP." He thrusted a disturbingly bright neon beverage into your hand. "Drink up."

"What is it?"

"Sweetums Fizz. My go-to drink for when I'm tryna get lucky." He winked. "But if it doesn't work out, feel free to give her my number."

Coming from Tom, that was the closest you would get to his blessings. So, unenthusiastically you took a sip of the dreadfully sweet drink , screwing up your face as you forced it down. Trying your best not to grimace at the taste, you smiled at him in thanks before he dispersed into the mass of people.

Next to approach was Leslie, who engulfed you in a crushing hug while spewing unintelligible nonsense about her trip. Usually her overly affectionate manner was too much, but this time you pulled her closer. If all went well tonight than you would be forever indebted to her.

Removing yourself from her grip, you interrupted her endless talk. "As much as I'd love to hear about Washington," You yelled over the obnoxiously loud music playing. "I can't hear a word your saying."

"Right." She nodded. "Wrong time, wrong place." There was a pause as the both of you were happy enjoying each others company. Since Jen's exit, Leslie had been so supportive and you'd missed her while she'd been gone.

Although, now wasn't the time for acknowledgements. "Have you seen Jen anywhere?"

"Oh, yeah." Leslie swivelled around and gestured in a general direction. "I think she said something about staying near the fire escape. Said this entire building was probably a hazard."

"That sounds like her." You grinned, spotting the green glowing fire exit sign. "Wish me luck."

"You don't need it." She patted your back, smiling reassuringly as you shuffled past.

Navigating through the crowd while keeping an eye on your target was a challenge. Several people bumped into you, their drink nearly spilling as they pushed past without an apology. However, nothing else mattered as you drew closer to the sign. Nothing else mattered except finding Jen.

Only she wasn't there.

As you struggled through the final row of people, you were met with yet another group of strangers. You sighed, absentmindedly swirling your glass as you resigned to return to Leslie. You then raised it to drink while turning round, though the necessary libation never reached your lips as you collided with someone.

The casualty gasped, stepping back as the cocktail spilled down the front of their dress.

"Shit." You froze, surveying the damage. "I'm so sorry-" You finally glanced up to face the woman and apologise again, but halted upon realisation.

Of course it was Jennifer. You just couldn't catch a break.

"I was going to surprise you, but looks like you got there first." She joked, scanning the vicinity for any kind of napkin. You joined the search, eventually spotting a couple abandoned on a table.

"Again, I am so sorry." You repeated, watching as she scrubbed at the stain. The attempt was futile as it didn't take long for the paper to be completely soaked through, and with little improvement to her dress. "Come on." You grabbed hold of her hand as she discarded the napkins, eager to try and improve this disaster of an event.

You maneuverer through the club with much difficulty while dragging Jennifer, who had an iron grip on your hand. Invigorated by the embarrassment, you arrived at the bathroom a mere minute later, all but shoving her inside one of the cubicles. Under the blaringly bright lighting you could assess the damage in greater detail.

"You know what?" She casually leant against the wall, waving her finger around. "I'm having some serious Deja-vu right now." You looked at her questioningly, pleased to see she didn't look too upset with the state of her dress. "Us together in a public restroom, you staring at my chest..."

You scoffed, reaching past her to grab the toilet paper. "Don't flatter yourself." You wrapped several layers around your hand, creating a makeshift towel. "Completely different circumstances."

"Same outcome though?" She raised an eyebrow suggestively, taking the bundle of paper from you.

"We'll just have to wait and see."

"I think you owe me." She scrunched up her face. "Or is throwing your drink over someone a traditional Pawnee welcome? Because that would explain the mess back there. Pretty sure every surface was sticky."

"Maybe you should wear one of those plastic ponchos next time." You muttered, nervously fidgeting with your hands.

The familiar anxiety from earlier seemed to have reappeared, you were unable to drag your eyes away from where they were fixated . Under the sobering bathroom light, everything had suddenly become very real. It had been years since you'd pursued any kind of serious relationship, and Jen was hardly the easiest person to start with. You tried to think about what Ann would say if she were here.

Probably something astute like "All the best things in life are worth fighting for." Too cheesy.

It'd be more "Nothing good comes out of running away from what you want, even if it's hard." Not inspirational enough.

Possibly "With great effort comes great gain." Nope. You'd definitely plagiarised that one from somewhere.

Maybe she'd-

"Y/N?" Jen ducked into your line of vision, bringing you back to reality. "Lost you there for a second." She smiled cautiously, resting a hand against your arm as if tethering you to the present.

"Sorry. I was thinking about something a friend said." You admitted sheepishly, placing your hand atop of hers. "Or would say if she were here."

"Oh yeah?" She carelessly threw the wad of paper behind, her full attention now on you. "And what would she say?"

You'd finally settled on what Ann would suggest. She'd say "Kiss her, idiot."

And you did.

#jennifer barkley #jennifer barkley x reader #jennifer barkley imagine

[depressedhatakekakashi]

How About, No!

Au: Collage Professors Au

Words: 2101

Pairings: Yamato/Umino Iruka, Hatake Kakashi/Maito Gai (Mentioned)

Summary: Doing paperwork has never been Kakashi's favourite part of the job. Doing Tsunade-sama's paperwork is somehow even worse, but apparently that's not bad enough. Kakashi's best friend has to go and make his life more ridiculous over a stupid crush.

For: @cryptic-summons @pinkcatharsis (i don't know you might enjoy XD)

At the beginning of every semester, Tsunade-sama would ask Kakashi to help her sort out all of the paperwork. Make sure that everyone was sorted into the correct classrooms, that all of the information was up to date, and that there wasn’t a repeat of the ‘2018 fiasco’ that no one was ever allowed to bring up in front of her again.

It wasn’t his favourite part of the job, but it was a good excuse to get away from his usual workload for a little while so he never said no.

Not that he thought he could say no. The one time he had tried to deny one of her requests, he had gotten a call from his father five minutes later talking about being nice to his friend and not making her life harder because he didn’t want to have to hear about it the next time they got together for drinks.

“You’re losing focus,” a file came down on top of his head, forcing him to look over at Shizune where she was now standing in front of him with a playful smile. “If you keep stalling we’re going to be here all night.”

Not a chance. He had dinner plans with Gai and he was not missing them for this.

“There’s only one more classroom to go through anyways,” opening the file he needed on the computer, he stared at the classroom details. “Teacher, Umino Iruka. See, this one will be easy.”

Iruka’s classes were always full because people loved hearing him talk, which would usually cause him more of a headache sifting through everyone’s files to make sure they actually signed up for the class and weren’t just placed in there by a wonky system. It wasn’t a headache because Iruka liked to look through his class layout before Tsunade-sama started the mad dash to organize everything before the new semester started, so he always had a file ready full of all of the student’s class requests.

It saved Kakashi from having to look through each of their files to make sure that they were in the correct class, and there was always a note if there was someone in it who shouldn’t be.

“Where is-” The file in question appeared in front of his face suddenly, a smile on Shizune’s face when he looked up at her.

“You’re not the only one with plans tonight, Kakashi,” the playful wink she gave him told him Rin was going to be wearing a smile all day tomorrow. Probably the type he wouldn’t want to ask about, just to save his sanity. “There is one sticky note on the inside, but I haven’t read it yet.”

It was probably just a request to remove a student. Likely because they hadn’t actually requested to be in the class, but also possibly because Iruka didn’t want to deal with them again. There had been a few repeat students that had proven to be little more than a nuisance to the poor man, and while Kakashi did gain a certain amount of enjoyment from seeing Iruka tearing his hair out of his skull because of shitty students, he could also understand why he would finally put his foot down and stop letting them in his class.

Flipping the file open, Kakashi directed his attention to the sticky note first. Rechecking everything that Iruka had already done would be easy. The most difficult (but still rather easy) part would be finding whoever it was that needed removing and going through the process of having them taken off of the class list.

What he found was not something he had been expecting at all.

Professors don’t usually take classes themselves? A mistake perhaps?

Professor? Now that had to be a mistake. Maybe the systems were acting up and just throwing anyone into classes now. Who knows, maybe Shizune had been forced to remove him from one of her classes, or Tenzo’s.

Who knows what those computers were getting up to. They were so old that Kakashi was certain they were functioning on nothing but cobwebs and spite. This semester the spite was getting the upper hand and making their lives a little more interesting.

“Should be simple enough,’ scanning his eyes over to the list of students, he searched for a familiar name. “Though I wonder why the system would-” As soon as he found the name he was looking for, he dropped the file.

“Is everything alright?” Shizune asked with a concerned tone in her voice.

“It’s fine,” pushing his chair back, he snapped the file shut and stood up. This was something that needed a bit more of a hands-on approach to rectify. “I’ll be back in ten, twenty tops, and I’ll pick up coffee on the way back.”

She was less likely to be upset with him for disappearing in the middle of their work if he returned with a treat, and he knew the perfect person to pay for that treat.

After all, it was his fault that Kakashi was leaving his work behind. He could make it up to him by paying for Coffee.

Finding Tenzo had been easy. As always he was tucked away in the university garden, which everyone considered his office because of how much time he spent there, tending to some of the flowers.

Today he was hovering over the tulips. Flowers that none other than Iruka had suggested were added, admitting that they were his favourite flower when Tsunade-sama asked him why he wanted them in the garden so badly.

Tenzo had wasted no time in finding the perfect spot to plant a variety of tulips. He had even chosen all sorts of different colours, determined to grow as many of them as he could just for Iruka.

The fact that there were still people in the university who had no idea about Tenzo’s crush on Iruka was astonishing to Kakashi. There was no way he could be more obvious about his feelings towards the modern history professor.

Well, there was one way but he had gotten upset with Kakashi over the cute sign he had tried taping to his back one day that read ‘I’m in love with Umino Iruka’. Kakashi still wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t like he had made it into the university before Shizune pointed out the sign’s existence.

It wasn’t even half as embarrassing as Kakashi had intended it to be.

“So,” resting an arm on Tenzo’s shoulder, he smiled when his friend glared at him. Already prepared for whatever Kakashi was about to throw his way. “Daydreaming about Iruka? I hope you’re doing this during your break. You know how important it is not to get distracted when you’re watering the plants.”

“Very funny,” shrugging Kakashi’s arm off of his shoulder, Tenzo turned his attention back to the Tulips. “Unlike you, flowers are rather resilient. If I don’t water them right away they’ll survive. If Gai doesn’t hug you as soon as he sees you, you’ll wither away.”

Unnecessarily true.

“Meh, at least I can own the fact that I need hugs from my boyfriend,” placing his hands behind his back, he peered at Tenzo with his good eye. “Meanwhile you’re just pretending that you don’t have the biggest, most obvious crush on Iruka ever. You were so desperate to get close to him without admitting you like him, that you signed up for one of his classes. Didn’t you?”

Tenzo’s shoulders stiffened. Caught in the act, he turned to face Kakashi.

“How did you know?”

“I help out with the paperwork every semester. Did you forget that, Tenzo?” The look of dread on his friend’s face told him that he had, indeed, forgotten. “I wouldn’t worry too much. Iruka seems to think it was a mistake that your name was placed on his classroom list. I don’t think the man has any clue what you were trying to do.”

Which, in his personal opinion, just confirmed how oblivious Iruka was.

“I do have one question though,” dropping his arms to his side, he took a step forward and reached out to touch the one purple tulip that was blooming. “Out of all of the things you could have done to try and spend some time with Iruka, you decided to enroll in his course. Why?”

His question was met with silence. Not the kind that told him Tenzo was desperately thinking of an appropriate answer. No, this was the kind of silence he was met with whenever Tenzo was too embarrassed to give him an answer.

When he knew that providing Kakashi with the answer would lead to his best friend giving him an even harder time than he already was, which left only one clear reason for why he had done it.

“You could just, oh I don’t know, ask him out,” Gripping the tulips stem, he plucked it out of the ground and stood up straight. The annoyed look he received from Tenzo was no doubt in response to both his words and the fact that he had just plucked a tulip of all flowers. “What could you possibly hope to gain from taking his class, that you couldn’t from just asking him out?”

“I was hoping that it would...you know, maybe let me spend some time around him,” Turning his head, Kakashi levelled Tenzo with an unimpressed look. “I know it’s stupid. Trust me, I’ve been scolding myself for it for days. I just-I needed something. Some way to get in close to him and actually start a conversation.”

It took a moment for Tenzo’s words to fully sink in, but once they had Kakashi straightened himself up and carefully placed the Tulip he had plucked behind his ear. Keeping it out of harm’s way as he removed the file from under his arm and used it to smack Tenzo upside the head.

“Ow!” Tenzo’s arms shot up to protect his head. “Senpai, what the hell!?”

Taking the file across Tenzo’s head once again, he watched as his friend tried to back away from him. “Professors cannot date students you absolute-” cutting himself off, he smacked Tenzo once more before watching him stumble back into the tulips. “Of all the stupid ways to try and get close to Iruka, you chose the one illegal way? Are you trying to get him fired!?”

“No, that’s not…” Glancing down at the tulips that he had crushed under his feet, he sighed. “I wasn’t trying to. I just…”

The look of defeat on Tenzo’s face is all too familiar. Kakashi could remember a time when he had felt the same way about Gai. Never knowing how to approach him, let alone how to ask him out.

It wasn’t Tenzo’s fault that the heart was a stupid organ that didn’t have any meaningful connections to the brain. The thing acted without concern for the results of its actions.

It just meant he was going to have to take matters into his own hands.

“I’ll take you off of the classroom list,” he informed Tenzo, holding up a finger to silence his friend when he opened his mouth to protest. “And you’ll be ready one Wednesday evening for a double date. Gai and I will be there to make sure that you don’t do anything else colossally stupid.”

“Wednesday?” Tenzo’s eyes widened. “You’re not going to”

“Well, clearly you can’t be trusted to take care of asking him out yourself,” honestly, he’d probably leave the actual asking to Gai. He was always good at convincing people to hang out, and he might even be able to make Tenzo look good while offering Iruka a date with him. Something Kakashi didn’t trust himself to do at the moment, given what a dumb move Tenzo had just pulled. “Wednesday night. If you’re late I’ll be forced to send Gai in to retrieve you.”

For a second it looked like Tenzo was about to argue some more. Perhaps protest against Kakashi’s idea, or try to point out that he could take care of his own love life. Instead, he simply shut his mouth and nodded his head.

“Yes, Senpai,” he responded in a defeated tone. “Just...try not to be too embarrassing.”

Here he was trying to help his best friend out with his love life without possibly costing Iruka his job, and the bastard dared to call him embarrassing? That was the final straw.

He was bringing videos from Tenzo’s twenty-fifth birthday party. Iruka could decide for himself if he wanted to date Konoha’s worst karaoke singer or not.

#Collage Professors Au #Hatake Kakashi #Tenzo Yamato #YamaIru #taryn's birthday fics #taryn's birthday celebration 2021

[gifted-burnout-archive]

Jim’s Best Friend

Part Nine - Stamford Bound

Word Count: 2066

Author’s Note: I decided that Jim and Y/N need a tradition. So, have a nice little chapter with fabricated backstory!

WARNING: none.

April, 2006.

"Am I proud of myself?" Jim repeated the question, a smile erupting onto his face. "Honestly, kinda. Nice knowing I made Patrick and Y/N happen, and even though it's only been two months... I feel good about it." He looked to the producer.

"Oh... You meant about the whole Stamford thing..." Jim's face fell. "I, uh, yeah... It's a step up isn't it? Not like I have reason to stay here anyway."

—

Ever since January, Jim had been doing whatever he could to forget about his feelings for Pam: he booked a trip to Australia, he interviewed for the Stamford job, he had even gone out on a few double dates with you and Patrick. But, seeing both of his best friends so happy with their relationships and jobs, he couldn't help but feel left out of the loop. He had even complained to HR about Pam planning her wedding in the office, though the two patched things up quite quickly.

Both you and Pam had been in full blown wedding mode, and as her in-office bridesmaid, she asked at the end of February, you were helping with Save the Dates, dress colours, flower arrangements, everything. And you enjoyed it, being swept up in the whirlwind of love that filled the air.

You and Patrick had been dating as official boyfriend and girlfriend for about a month and a half, and you couldn't remember a relationship that made you happier. You even moved The Notebook from your handbag into a drawer in your apartment, since you were fully commited to an exclusive relationship now. Poker at Jim's was the best thing that had happened to you in a while, and the whole office knew it.

You were even more bubbly than the bride-to-be, managing to keep a smile on your face through all of Dwight's bullshit, and you were making more sales than ever before. And despite you and Patrick deciding to take things slow, more for your sake than anything, the bi-weekly date nights had added colour and purpose into life again. You hadn't felt so good in a relationship, and in general, for years.

As you finished up on another big sale, an email pinged up on your screen from Jim. You glanced over, but he was pretending to be busy so that Dwight wouldn't bother him, and you instead focused on the email.

Do you think I could talk to you before the casino tomorrow? In private? Need your advice on something. - J xx

You pulled out your keyboard and quickly began typing back, sending the message over quickly before your phone rang again. Jim opened the reply email as soon as he received it, scanning over the computer screen.

Of course, why don't we go to the park after work? Just us two. Get hot dogs for dinner, my treat? - Y/N/N xx

Jim smiled at the message, trying to remember the last time you had both gone for a Hot Dog Date, or HDD. It would have had to be before you went to Spain the year before. It first occurred the year Jim arrived at the office, you had only been in sales for a few months yourself, promoted from the warehouse. It was a Friday, and you were complaining about having to go shopping straight after work. Pam was taking a sick day, and Jim offered to buy you dinner. It wasn't a date or anything, and when you both decided that hot dogs couldn't be topped, a tradition begun.

Anytime either of you were too stressed or tired or simply needing a chat, a HDD took place. A walk in the nearby park, followed by Hank's Hotdogs on your favourite park bench overlooking the pond, and then the pair of you just talked. For hours. The only way you left that bench was when the rain came down too hard for your umbrella to bear, or the night enveloped you in a cold that threatened catching the flu. That first time, Jim told you about college, about feeling stuck at Dunder Mifflin, about not knowing what to do with his life, and you shared the real reasons you never ended up in college: how you started working full time in the warehouse when your mom got sick, how Michael took you under his wing and got you into the sales position.

A thousand times yes.

He responded, and the pair of you got back to work, only stopping for coffee breaks with Pam and another one of Michael's meetings.

—

"So..." Jim started as you sat down beside him on your bench, handing him a hot dog and setting down two cans of soda on the bench between you. "How's Patrick?" He asked, and you sat back.

"Not a chance, Halpert. You called for the HDD, you share first. Them's the rules." You said, biting into your hotdog with enthusiasm. You had been eating healthy with Patrick, and as much as you loved the whole 'eat good, feel good' thing, you missed junk food. He sighed, and looked out at the pond, his eyes following the ducks that swam around for a few minutes, chewing on his hot dog as he thought. You stayed quiet, letting him think through it all, he usually did this. Sometimes, it would be twenty minutes before either of you spoke, but the silence was warm and relaxed. There was no expectation.

"I think I'm going to transfer to the Stamford branch." Jim said finally, and you looked over at him. Before you could ask, he continued. "There's an opening for Assistant Regional Manager, the money's better... It's only a few hours drive away. And I already interviewed..."

"So the other day, when you were at a doctor's appointment..." You trailed off, and Jim nodded.

"Dwight gave me the idea, if you could believe it... And I need to go somewhere new Y/N. It's not like I'll move up in Scranton... Not like I'll move on." He sighed out, and took the last bite of his hot dog, washing it down with some grape soda.

"I..." You stopped, taking a sip of your own beverage. "I get it. And while Michael's speech on the boat was motivational, it wasn't exactly realistic." You shrugged, leaning forward on your knees. "Pam loves you, but Roy is her fiancé. She loves him more."

"You... You heard what Michael said?" Jim asked, and you looked over with a smile.

"Yeah... Came looking for him, found you both deep in the throws of success speeches." You giggled, and Jim smiled back a little. "Can't believe he thought we would get together." You added, and Jim nodded.

"Could you imagine? The anarchy would be neverending." He chuckled, and you were glad you could cheer him up a little. It was shit, being in a situation where no-one was wrong. Roy was good to Pam, Pam was a wonderful woman, and Jim couldn't help being in love with her. He sat up straight, and stood up, offering you a hand to get up. You took it, rising to your feet and looking up at him with a raised eyebrow. "So, what about you?" Jim asked, the pair of you beginning a stroll around the pond, the lamps overhead slowly turning on as the sun set, painting the rolling clouds in colour.

"I think I'm in love." You said decidedly, and Jim stopped in place.

"Really?" He asked, his eyes lighting up with joy, and you let out a soft laugh.

"Oh, it's too early to say anything but... I don't know, Patrick has agreed to take things slower than he's used to, and he just... He makes me happy?" You went pink. To think that only months ago, you were still with Brian. Jim pulled you into a hug, picking you up and spinning you round. You squeaked in response, the pair of you sharing a laugh as he put you down.

"You deserve it, Y/N. I expect to be you maid of honour." He teased you a litte, and you elbowed his side playfully.

"Don't get too ahead of yourself. I just, I'd like it to last." you shrugged, continuing to walk.

"I'm glad he's over Jennifer." Jim made the offhand comment after a few minutes of strolling, and you glanced over.

"Jennifer as in Jennifer Young?" You asked, and Jim nodded, frowning when you did.

"What's up?"

"He's out with her tonight... Some other friends from work too, of course. I just didn't realise she was the ex girlfriend." You said slowly. Patrick had talked about her an awful lot during the last two months, but you just thought she was a friend to him like Jim was to you.

"Oh, I wouldn't worry about it Y/N. They ended in January, amicably. Maybe they just lost the romantic spark, cut it off?" Jim suggested, and you nodded in agreement. There was never any point in overthinking friendships, it would only make you feel worse.

"You're right... Oh! I'm bringing him along to the casino night tomorrow, he can finally meet the office. Meet Pam!" You said with a smile, slowing down as you spotted an ice cream shop across the street. "Do you want ice cream?" You asked suddenly, and Jim grinned, throwing an arm over your shoulder.

"You are adorable." Jim said, and you looked up at him, still waiting for an answer. "Yes, of course I want ice cream." He rolled his eyes, and you exited the park together, crossing the street and walking up to the store counter.

"You know, there's rumours going around about Dunder Mifflin going international..." You said after ordering a strawberry ice cream and sprinkle cone. "Overheard Jan talking about it on the phone at the Women in the Workplace meeting."

"Where would the office be based?" Jim asked, getting two scoops of cookie dough flavour in a cup. You paid and walked back towards the park, Jim digging into his dessert by your side.

"Either Madrid or Vienna... I thought I would talk to her next time I see her, see if it's still happening. I don't know now though, since Rick and I..." You said, licking the ice cream slowly. The idea of Jim leaving suggested that maybe you should try something new too. You had been at the Scranton branch three years more than he had.

"They could use you! Your Spanish is... Well, I don't know Spanish, so I can't be sure, but I bet your Spanish is great." Jim encouraged it, and you smiled, letting out a breath. The pair of you slowed down, walking along the rickety wooden dock and taking a seat at the end, the half moon shining down onto the midnight blue water.

"Is this it then?" You asked, looking up, taking another lick of your ice cream, catching a drip before it hit your hand. "The end of an era? The three musketeers, no more." You said, and Jim shook his head.

"Not a chance... But, maybe... Maybe it's the mid season break? A chance for all of us to take a breather, reunite for the thrilling finale, end with a bang." He said with a grin.

"There's nothing thrilling about office work, Halpert." You reminded him with a giggle.

"On the contrary, Y/L/N. Because, while my time left at Scranton may be short, I can say with complete honesty." He stopped, taking your free hand in a gesture of faux affection. "For a day to be thrilling at the office, there simply has to be you and I... And Dwight so we can slowly torture him to insanity." He smirked, and you burst into laughter. Once it died down, you and Jim fell into that comfortable silence once more, finishing your ice creams.

The walk to his car was short, the car ride home quick, and you gave his hand a squeeze as you got out in front of your apartment.

"I do not know what in the world I would do without you, Jim." You said honestly, a smile on your face. "So if you leave, I have to get at least one email a day."

"No matter how many times you make me watch it, Y/N, I will never, ever be Ryan Gosling." Jim pouted, and you rolled your eyes.

"Night, Jim."

"Night, Y/N."

--

Tags: @imsuperawkward​

#au #jim halpert #michael scott #pam beesly #dwight schrute #the office #jim halpert x reader #jim x reader #office au #reader #reader insert #reader is female #romance #friendship #pam and jim #jim and pam #slow burn #from season 1 #fanfiction #fanfic #fandom #john krasinski #steve carell #jenna fischer #rainn wilson #jackryanplz #part nine

[crimsonbubble]

The Tutor Who Sings

Pairing: YangYang x fem!reader

Genre: Smut

Warnings: don't think I need any

"I'm just gonna drop out, I swear." You mumble as your hit you head on the table and stay like that, until you get tapped on the shoulder. You neck snaps up and you sit up right. Out of habit, you rub the back of your neck looking at the boy who tapped you. Your eyes widen, and your face flushes pink. You let out a nervous laugh as, you look away to hopefully, calm your burning cheeks.

The boy who was sitting across from you, was YangYang. The smartest guy in school. Not to mention, how popular he is; catching attention from literally anyone he passes by, even the guys. His face was too pretty to not look at. His flawless skin, eyes a beautiful shade of honey, his small button nose, his full pink lips and sharp jawline were to die for.

Today, he had round glasses sitting perfectly on the bridge of his nose. He's wearing a neutral glitter eye shadow, and his lips look more pink than usual. A pair of hands grab your shoulders and you feel yourself being shook. You snap out of your trance and stare into his eyes.

"Ugh, hey YangYang." You say softly, as you tuck a loose strand of hair being your ear. "Hey, tomato face." He says, poking your cheek, a soft smile adorning his face. You blush deeper and cover your face, not noticing the light pink tint of his face. You look at him once again, and take a deep breath.

"So, what brings you to my corner of the library?" You state as you open your textbook again. "Well," he starts. "I saw you trying to study for math, and then you slammed your head against the table. So, I thought maybe I should check up on you to make sure you're ok." His smile widens as he takes out his textbook and notebook. "Maybe, if you want, I can be your math tutor? We are in the same math class, so I know exactly what we're doing." Yang Yang paused. "Now that I think about, you sit beside me in class. How come you never asked for help?"

Your froze. "I'm way too shy to ask anyone for help." He pouts, sending your heart into a frenzy. "Well, don't worry now. I'm here to help you. Ask all the questions you like." He beams at you. "Stop, your smile is blinding me." You say opening your notebook. He pauses, blushing. "You.. you like my smile?" He asks, quietly, looking up through his eyelashes. "Yea I do. Your smile is really pretty and bright. It lights up your face when you do." You say getting confidence to flirt just a bit.

His cheeks glow red as he looks at you. "I've noticed a few things about you. You rub the back of your neck when you're nervous. You blush a lot. You fiddle with your fingers or use your phone as a distraction. You always sit with your legs crossed. You have a habit of licking your lips and you're always bouncing your leg. You cover your mouth when you laugh." You state at the boy in utter shock.

"How do you know all that? Do you stare at me and note the things I do?" He chuckles and caresses your face. "I do stare, sometimes. But you do it so often I picked up on the small things you do. You're too beautiful not to look at." He replies quietly, running his thumb over your cheek. He eventually let's go, and asks what you need help with in math. You stare at him. You sigh, and flip to the unit you need help with. 'How is he able to continue without freaking out? Does he know I like him and he's toying with my feelings?' these thoughts fill your head. You lean back, grab your water bottle and down the rest of its contents. You straighten you back and focus on what YangYang is saying.

Weeks pass. YangYang and you, got closer as friends. Greeting each other in the morning, he walks you to class and you walk him to class. The library has become your special spot. You both met there everyday, to talk, study and just hang out. Over the course of the week, your feeling for YangYang only grew. With the constant flirting, you've gotten pretty good at hiding your feelings from him. You couldn't help it. He treated you better than any other guy would have. He was always there, when you needed him. Not only did your feelings get stronger, but you're getting better at math.

It was currently Friday at the end of lunch. YangYang didn't show up to the library that day. You used that lunch hour to decide whether or not to confess. On one hand you really wanted him to know, but you didn't want to face the harsh reality of rejection. The lunch hour came to an end as the bell rang, students fill the halls making their way to their designated classes.

With a heavy heart, you make your way to class.

Once you're in class, the seat beside you, stays empty. The class time went by in the blink of an eye. You rise from your seat, grabbing your bag and making your way out the door and walking onto the fields. Slowly approaching the tree you always sit under to think, you hear a soft angelic singing voice. You stop to listen.

'In the gray sky, there is a brighter light

Behind the dark clouds, there is a dazzling light

You shine like the stars

You light up my heart

At the end of today's hardships

Brightly shine on me'

(If you know the song, I love you)

The singing comes to an end and you inch closer to see who it was. Your breath hitches and get trapped in your throat as you call out his name. "YangYang?" His head snaps back and he scrambles to stand up. He hits his head against the tree while doing so. Worry washes over you and you move towards him. He sits back down, hiding the back of his head.

Your left hand holds his face and your right hand puts light pressure on his head. "Does it hurt bad?" You say as you let go of his face, not noticing that small pout on his lips. "No, it's fine for now." He states, a small smile tugging at his lips at your caring nature.

You sit in front of him and pull your bag closer. Rummaging through it, you take out a small pouch. Shuffling things around you found what you need. A pain killer is resting in the palm of palm of your hand. Reaching for your water bottle, you offer it for YangYang to take.

He does and pops the pill in his mouth. Downing a mouthful of water, the pill is gone. Laughing at his facial expressions from swallowing the pill, you grab the bottle and put it back in your bag.

*YangYang's thoughts*

It's official. I'm in love with her. I'm in love with [y/n]. She's the sweetest and most caring girl, I've ever known. She absolutely beautiful. Her eyes filled with warmth, kindness and love. Her smile bright and contagious. Her soft and full cheeks, so cute. Not to mention, her little nose and pretty pink lips. God really spent time crafting this angel.

No wonder, everyone takes a liking towards her. What would happen if I confess to her? Would she laugh and reject me? Will she say yes, just to toy with my feelings?What am I thinking, she's what everyone wants. A smart, beautiful, talented and all round amazing girl. But, if everyone wants her, why do people have to hurt her? She's been through so much. She's pushed through it all and is still standing strong as proud.

She's been there for me for so long, that I want her by my side all the time. I want to show her that she is loved. That she's beautiful and that she is everything and more. I want her to be mine. She deserves someone, who will support her, and love her unconditionally.

*[Y/N]'s thoughts*

I can't take this anymore. I just want to tell him already. What if he's only nice because I'm a loser? What if he toys with my heart like every other guy? What if he uses me, and just moves on the next day, without a word or doubt in this world? What if I'm not good enough to be his and he stops talking to me?

What if he cheats on me with a prettier, smarter and an all round better girl? Wait what am I talking about?! It's YangYang. He's the literal definition of a sweetheart. He's so kind to literally everyone. No wonder everyone likes him, his heart is made of gold. YangYang's better than any guy in this school combined.

You know what? I'm gonna tell him. Just take a deep breath and let him know. You can do this. If he rejects you, it'll only shatter your heart into a million pieces. STOP THINKING LIKE THAT!! YOU'RE GETTING NOWHERE! Just take a breath and say it.

*Back to reality*

Your eyes lock with his.. but he looks out of it. You wave a hand in front of his face, but to no avail. You lightly grip his shoulders and shake him. He blinks and shakes his head, snapping himself out of his trance. He turns scarlet and looks away. You weren't any better. Both of your faces slowly made their way back to their natural colour.

The silence between the both of you, was slightly awkward and tense. Now wanting to bear the silence anymore, you speak up. "Hey YangYang, can.. I tell you something?" You say as you feel your face getting hotter by the second. His head snaps towards you, as he nods and urges you to continue.

Inhaling quietly, you look him in the eyes. "Lui YangYang. I like you. Like a lot." You say as you hide your face in your hands. YangYang blinks as he processes your words, a smile breaking out onto his face. He pulls your hands away from your face and pulls you closer. Placing a soft and sweet kiss on your cheeks.

Your face burns as you try to move away from the boy sitting infront of you. His grip tightens as he pulls you into his lap. His eyes looking into yours, so gently. His gaze is gentle and loving. His hands intertwine with yours as he scans your features.

A small chuckle leaves his lips. "I know you do." Is all he said before he kissed you on the lips. It took you a few seconds to kiss him back, tightening your grip on his hands. The kiss was passionate, yet soft. His lips were plush and smooth. You broke away for air, your chest heaving slightly.

"H-how did you know?" You ask as your face goes red, and your breathing turns normal again. "You weren't the hardest to figure out, my love. Besides, what matters is that I like you too. Like a lot." He says imitating how you confessed. The endearing nickname made you flush as you hide your face in his neck.

YangYang's hands untangle from yours and lay on your waist. Your hands find themselves wrapped around his neck. A few minutes pass as the two of you stay entangled with one another. Neither of you bothered to break the comforting silence that engulfed the both you you.

YangYang slowly pushes your body so you face him. His face is illuminated by a smile. "How about we do back to my house and we can cuddle, eat snacks and watch Disney movies?" His voice soft and rhythmic. A soft hum and a nod is the response he got.You stand up and gather your things. Slinging your bag over your shoulder, you hold out your hand, which YangYang gladly takes.

The walk to his house was full of jokes, soft giggling, red faces and pure love.

#nct u #nct imagines #nct #nctzen #incorrect nct #nct memes #nct doyoung #nct blurbs #nct dream #nct au #nct taeyong #nct mark #nct scenarios #nct fuff #nct fluff #writing #kpop au #kpop fanfic #kpop fluff #kpopfandom #kpop #kpop imagines #kpopidol

[shawtygonemad]

What Is This Feeling: Chapter 12

Fem!9th Doctor x Male!Rose Tyler

WITF Masterlist

The Doctor walked back into the alleyway after being laughed at by a crowd of drunks. She simply asked them if they had seen something fall from the sky recently. Then an air raid alarm went off. She had better find her human.

"Ross," she called out into the empty alleyway. Realizing she was alone, the Time Lord let out a huff. "You know, one day, just one day, maybe, I'm going to meet someone who gets the whole don't wander off thing. Nine hundred years of phone box travel, it's the only thing left to surprise me."

Suddenly a ringing filled the air near the TARDIS. The Doctor furrowed her eyebrows.

'That's not supposed to be ringing,' the Doctor thought as she approached the phone booth phone.

As she went to pick up the phone a voice from behind startled her causing her to also drop the sonic.

"Don't answer it! It's not for you."

The Doctor turned to see a young girl dressed in ragged clothes. Fear was seen in her brown eyes.

"And how do you know that?" The Time Lord questioned.

"Cos, I do. And I'm telling you, don't answer it," the girl warned.

"Well if you know so much, tell me this: How can it be ringing?" The Doctor picked up the receiver. "It's not even a real phone. It's not connected. It's not-" the Doctor paused when she turned back to the girl who was now gone. Her brows furrowed once more as she spoke into the phone.

"Hello? Hello? This is the Doctor speaking. How can I help you," she asked sarcastically to who she thought was no one?

"Mummy? Mummy," a child's voice answered.

"Who is this? Who's speaking," she asked even more confused. This was impossible!

"Are you my mummy," the child asked.

"Who is this," the Doctor asked more firmly.

"Mummy?"

"How did you ring here? This isn't a real phone. It's not wired up to anything."

"Mummy?"

Before the Doctor can respond once again the dial tone sounded. That was weird, and not the good kind. The Doctor knocked on the door of the time machine in hopes that is where Ross went.

"Ross? Ross, are you in here," she asked into the depths of the dark TARDIS. There was no response. That's when she heard a loud noise at the end of the alley. Instincts kicked in and she bolted towards the sound.

The Doctor followed to sound down the street. She noticed a family exiting the back of them home into the cellar to take shelter from the air raid. As they were leaving, she also noticed Nancy and a group of rugged looking children enter from the front. They must be scavenging for a meal. Perhaps she should join them.

As they started to get settled and still distracted the Time Lord slinked in and found an empty seat at the table. When Nancy finished carving the food slices of meat were being passed around. The kids each thanking Nancy politely for getting them this dinner.

"Thank you, Miss," One boy said.

"Thank you, Miss," Another said.

"Thank you, Miss."

"Thank you, Miss," the Doctor joined in with a grin.

The children gasped while panicking. Nancy tried to calm them.

"It's alright. Everyone stay where you are!" She instructed them.

"Good here, innit?" She smiled as she continued to fix herself a plate. "Who's got the salt?"

"Back in your seats, " Nancy informed them. "She shouldn't be here either."

"So," the Doctor started, "You lot, what's the story?"

"What do you mean," one of the boys asked, confused.

"You're homeless, right? Living Rough?" She asked nonchalant.

"Why do you want to know? Are you a copper?" Another boy questioned.

"Of course I'm not a copper! What's a copper going to do with you lot anyways? Arrest you for starving? I make it to 1941. You lot shouldn't even be in London! You should've been evacuated to the country by now."

"It's better on the streets! Nancy always finds us the best food," the children agreed.

"So that's what you do, Nancy," the Doctor said to the young woman.

"What is," she asked confused.

"As soon as the siren goes, you find a big fat family meal still warm on the table with everyone down in the air raid shelter and Bingo!" The Doc exclaimed. "Feeding frenzy for the homeless kids of London town. Puddings for all, as long as the bombs don't get you."

"Something wrong with that," Nancy bit back, ready for a fight.

"Wrong with it? It's brilliant," She laughed. "I'm not sure if it's Marxism in action or a West End Musical."

"Why'd you follow me," Nancy asked exasperated.

"I want to know what that phone rang when it wasn't hooked up," the Doctor jumped to the point.

"I did you a favor," she stated.

"Great, thanks," the alien said sarcastically. "And I want to find a blonde in a union jack. I mean a specific one. I didn't just wake up this morning with a craving." 'Liar,' her inner voice said. "Anyone see a man like that?"

Nancy grabbed the Doctor's place much to her protest.

"You took 2 slices. No blondes, no flags. Anything else before you leave," She bite off quickly.

"Actually yes." The Doc said as she got up from the table. "Anything fall from the sky? Probably about a month ago, but not a bomb! Wouldn't have exploded, and just buried itself into the ground. It would look something like this," The doctor pulled out a picture of what the ship looks like.

Suddenly a child voice sounded out. "Mummy?"

Chaos began, as scared kids quickly got up from the table and found an exit to escape to. The Doctor was trying to speak to the child, but Nancy stopped her. She claimed that if you're touched you become just like him. Nancy quickly made her exit as the Doctor opened the front door to find nothing.

After a short period of searching the Doctor found the kids at Nancy's hideout. She needed more information from Nancy if she was going to figure out what was going on. Thankfully, Nancy agreed to lead her to someone who could help. The Doctor. She internally groaned at the idea of having to meet another version of herself again. Reluctantly she venture on alone since Nancy refuse to enter. She told the Doctor that she lost her little brother during an air raid, and just couldn't handle what was waiting inside.

As she entered the ward she started to look around. She was shocked to find every bed occupied with a very still patient. After a quick scan of her sonic she realized that these things were human, but how was the gas mask fused to their face? It looked like her answer would come soon after discovering Doctor Constantine who was very sick and claimed to be dying. Much like the patients he seemed to somehow have head trauma, a collapsed chest, and a scar on the back of his hand. It was a domino affected. Only one victim was injured at first, then suddenly everyone he touched fell to the same injuries. The final phase is growing a gas mask which fuses to the face.

"You must find Nancy, again," Doctor Constantine choked. "It was her brother. She knows more than she's saying. She won't tell me, but she mi..migh…might…mummy? Are you my m-m-mummyyy," he cried as a gas mask grew from his mouth and fused to his face.

"Hello?" a voice came from the corridor.

The Doctor quickly stumbled into the corridor. She needed to warn these people to get out. Quickly turning around she bumped into a tall, handsome man. However, next to him was her beautiful human. She was finally able to breathe a sigh of relief knowing he was okay.

"Good evening," the unknown man said. "Hope we're not interrupting. Jack Harkness," he extended his hand while sending the alien a charming, flirtatious grin. Hesitantly the Doctor shook his hand. "I've been hearing all about you on the way over."

"He knows," Ross said to her. "I had to tell him about us being Time Agents."

"And it's a real pleasure to meet you, Miss Spock," Jack spoke again.

"Miss Spock," she asked amused as she looked at Ross.

"What was I supposed to say? You don't have a name! Don't you ever get tired of Doctor? Doctor Who?" Ross rambled on.

"9 centuries in, I'm coping," she said sarcastically. "Where have you been? We're in the middle of a London Blitz! It's not a good time for a stroll!"

"Who's strolling? I went by Barrage Balloon! Only way to see an air raid," he said smugly.

"What!?" She exclaimed.

Ross brushed her off, "So what's a Chula Warship?"

"Chula?" The Doctor was so confused. What the hell is going on? "What kind of Chula ship landed here?"

"What," Jack questioned, distracted.

"He said it was a warship," Ross injected. "He stole it, parked it somewhere out there, somewhere a bomb's going to fall on it unless we make him an offer."

The Doctor crossed her arms and stared hard at the new man. She did not get a good feeling from him or this situation. What kind of game was he playing at?

"What kind of warship," she questioned.

"What does it matter? It's got nothing to do with this," he said wildly as he gestured to the gas masked patients.

"This," the doctor pointed at the patients," started at the bomb site. It's got everything to do with it! What kind of warship?"

"An ambulance," Jack exclaimed. "Look!"

The man proceeded to project a holograph image from his wristband of the machine they had previously been following.

"It's what chased you through the time vortex. It's space junk! I wanted to kid you it was valuable. It's empty. I made sure of it! Nothing but a shell. I threw it at you. I saw your time travel vehicle, love the retro look, by the way, nice panels." The Doctor couldn't help but slightly smile proudly at that compliment. "I threw it to you as bait."

"Bait," Ross asked.

"I wanted to sell it to you, and then destroy it before you found out it was junk," Jack explained.

"You said it was a warship," Ross accused.

"They have ambulances in the war," Jack defended. "It was a con. I was conning you! That's what I am, a con man. I thought you two were Time Agents. You're not, are you?"

"Just a couple more freelancers," Ross told him smugly.

"Oh. I should have known," Jack shook his head in disbelief. "The way you guys were blending in with the local colour. I mean, Flag Boy was bad enough, but you, Biker Bitch?" He laughed. "Anyway, whatever's happening here has got nothing to do with that ship."

The Doctor started to pace while thinking. What could be happening here? How is it possible for this sickness to simply pass through touch and not be air born? How do the other victims also receive the same injuries as the first victim?

"Human DNA is being rewritten," She said offhandedly.

"What do you mean," Ross questioned.

"I don't know," the Doctor stopped pacing to look at him. "Some kind of virus converting human beings into these things. But why? What's the point?"

Suddenly all of the patients sat up in their beds and turned to look at them.

"What's going on," Ross asked creeped out.

"I don't know," the Doctor said slowly as she started to steer Ross behind her.

"Mummy," they said.

"Don't let them touch you!" The Doctor instructed as she led the men back.

"Mummy. Mummy. Mummy. Mummy."

This isn't good.

#romance #adventure #doctor who fanfic #doctor who #doctor x rose #the doctor #doctor who fanfiction #bbc doctor who #doctor who imagine #9th doctor x rose #9th doctor #fem!9th doctor x male!rose tyler #fem!9th doctor #male!rose tyler #the doctor x rose tyler #rose tyler

[whatyourfathersays]

Senorita → Brad Simpson (Part One)

A/N: hello! this is gonna be a very mini series based off of the music vide ‘Señorita’ by Shawn Mendes and Camila Cabello. Feel free to watch the music video first to get a general gist of what is going to happen.

Words: 4.5k, I got carried away

-

Brad runs a hand through his dark curls, pushing them off of his forehead as he walks into the small café on the corner street of Long Valley. A white vest top clung to his torso with ease, broadcasting his muscles perfectly. His trousers were black, contrasting his vest top well. Only he could look that good in such a simple outfit. Everyone in the café that noticed his presence instantly looked away from the towering, intimidating man.

It was a hot day in Long Valley, everyone out with their hats, sunscreen lathered on their skin to protect them from the heat, shorts on everyone's legs and minimal shirts on their body. It was a bold statement for someone to be wearing jeans, but Brad Simpson loved being that bold statement, always. From his retro motorcycle he'd bought five years ago when he turned eighteen to his leather jackets, skinny jeans, broad shoulders. There was always at least one reason to look at Brad Simpson, even if it was just for the pleasure of looking at such an attractive person.

He sits down on one of the booth chairs in the retro café. The floor was tiled with white laminate tiles, the walls tiled up too with a strip of red as a pop of colour. The faux leather on the booths' benches and stool tops were the same burgundy red, matching the marble counter that drinks were currently being served on as people craved the cold, refreshing drinks.

The only reason Brad had found himself at the café at the day's peak was because he had some friends to meet up with who were passing through town. They were usually moving from city to city, placing bets, getting with girls, doing drugs, drinking alcohol. Brad would much rather do that in the comfort of his own town, where he knew everyone had links to get whatever he wanted far as cheap and as soon as possible. But with their unexpected arrival in town, Brad had agreed to meet them after their absence in his life.

He looks over his shoulder as a girl in a pink uniform-dress walks out of the door separating the café's bar from the kitchen. Orders were usually taken at the tables if people were planning on staying to eat, while quick drinks were ordered at the bar. So, expectantly, the girl ghosts her eyes over the café before landing on Brad, the only table that she knew hadn't been served yet.

Brad was well enough known in Long Valley—whether for his reputation with girls or his reputation with his bold statements, he was known, and not for the greatest reasons. Everyone seemed to know Brad, or at least know of him. He was a brooding boy, a constant stoic and unreadable expression glued onto his perfectly porcelain features: he was pretty difficult to miss.

However, the waitress walked over with such confidence—head held high, shoulders up, back arched—that Brad couldn't help but raise his eyebrows at her, a smirk hinting on his lips. She had dark hair, it fell to her hips, complimenting the curves Brad could see from her uniform-dress. A name tag with her name on was actually hidden from his view by her long hair, which made him want to push her hair behind her ear—not only a way of flirting, but a way of knowing what her name was. He didn't though, for she opened her mouth to begin talking before he had the chance.

"Welcome to Retro Bites," she says, her voice confidence unlike other waiters and waitresses who have cowered under his intimidating gaze. He was impressed she was keeping her cool, and he wondered if she was even aware of who he is. "Are you ready for me to take your order or would you like a few more moments to decide?"

"You on the menu?" He drawls, his eyes looking her over again. There was no evidence of blush, no evidence of swooning, and he knew it was a first.

"I'll give you a few moments to look at the menu," she says, rolling her eyes discreetly but Brad noticed. He chose not to say anything to her.

"Who said I wasn't ready to order?" He asks, his voice slow as he smirks up at her. He was in no rush for her to leave or for this conversation to be over.

"You thought I was on the menu," she says bluntly. "So I'm assuming you've not looked through it. If you had have looked through, you'd know I'm not on the menu."

He raises his eyebrows, surprised. He wasn't used to people talking to him, never mind back chatting. Yet she continued.

"And your sexist, unwanted comments are also not on the menu, last time I checked," she says. "So, as I said, I'll give you a few moments to look over the menu and then I'll come back to take your order."

She gives him a final smile, a smile that anyone who had dared to look over and see the minor dispute that had just occurred would've thought meant she was apologetic, or sweet. They'd definitely not think it was a sarcastic smile as she intended, and Brad received.

"What's your name?" He asks her, giving her no chance to turn around and leave. Instead, she brushed her hair off of her name tag for him to look at, since she didn't want to verbally engage with him. "Well, (Y/N), you've got quite a mouth on you, haven't you?"

She rolls her eyes in response.

"The cold shoulder already? We've only just met," he teases her, getting under skin successfully. He wanted to see how long she would last before she snaps and shouts at him; she seems like a feisty one. "Pass me the menu?"

The menu was nearer to him than her, but he was just trying to be difficult. He wanted to see if she'd be a good employee, telling the customer they're always right, doing as the customer wants.

She grabs the menu she had stuffed in her uniform pocket, throwing it down to the table for him to read. It wasn't laminated like the one on his table. In fact, it was crumpled up and creased from its lack of use yet constant position in her pocket, and he was far from impressed by its poor state.

"I said—,"

"Get it yourself," she says dryly. "You're right next to it."

He pushes the menu she had given him back to her before grabbing the menu. She takes the chance to leave the table and go to serve a couple of elderly that had walked in. They were regulars, she knew their order off by heart.

(Y/N) was fully aware of Brad Simpson's antiques—in fact, she knew someone first hand that had experienced his bad attitude. Her best friend, Taylor, had been walking home one night after a shift at his own workplace. It was only ten in the evening, maybe even earlier, and Taylor was wearing his own earphones as he walked down the street minding his own business. That was until two motorcycles pulled up to the side of the road and beat him to a pulp and stole all the money he'd earned.

It wasn't a surprise when Taylor came home and told her that it was Brad, he knew from the light on the lampposts that reflected onto the motorcycle. From that day onwards, (Y/N) hated every inch of Brad Simpson, even if she'd never had the displeasure of meeting him.

That was, until today.

By the time he's read through the menu and actually decided what he wants, his two friends from out of town are sat with him, laughing about some story from when they were high in a city up in Scotland. The three of them were loud in the quiet café, drowning out the sound of the eighties music that (Y/N)'s boss had put on in the background.

She walks out backwards from the door separating the kitchen and bar once more, this time holding a tray of two cups of coffee and some fries for the elderly couple. She serves them quickly and smiles before leaving and scanning over the café.

She inhales deeply, hoping her co-worker would take Brad's table instead, but of course her co-worker was too engrossed on the level of Candy Crush that they were adamant on beating, despite the game being years old by now, and totally out of trend.

Sighing, she grabs her notebook and pencil from her waistband, walking over to Brad's table with a false smile. His two friends weren't overly attractive, both sporting a black leather jacket, black trousers and a black shirt, ink exposed on their neck as a toothpick was in their mouths.

"Hello, welcome to Retro Bites," (Y/N) sounded like a broken record, repeating the same mantra for the billionth time that day. "Are you ready to order?"

"Ready to order some'a that ass!" The guy the nearest to her grins, taking his toothpick out and looking her up and down.

"I'll have a tray of fries and a coke," Brad says, glancing up at (Y/N) who looked evidently uncomfortable. In the time he had watched her walking around, he had time to admire her body but also understand why she was so sassy with him. "These will have a beer each."

She nods slowly, writing down their orders on the notepad. "Is that everything?"

"Yeah," Brad replies, glancing at his two friends who were surprised Brad wasn't making an offensive comment about the waitress. He sighs, trying not to ruin his reputation too much. "So you can go now."

Don't need to tell me twice, she thought before turning around and taking the order to the kitchen.

Brad felt bad for his comment that he made the first time she'd taken his order—she was just doing her job, not there to be perved on by customers. Maybe the fact that she had the balls to stand up to him made him feel bad, realising it's probably not the best thing to do to someone. He'd never say that to her though, she seems like the kind of person to gloat over him apologising to her.

Once their order was ready, she took a tray full of their drinks and went back into the café, making a beeline for their table before handing the drinks out for them and placing the fries in the middle. Brad slaps a ten pound note onto the table, paying for the food and drinks.

"Keep the change. It's your tip."

Surprised she got a tip from him, she takes it anyway with a curt nod, saying her usual scripted monologue about how they should enjoy their food and always feel free to call her for assistance.

She puts the ten pound note into the cash register by the bar, grabbing the change and putting it in the charity box rather than her own pocket. It was only fifty pence, so she didn't see why she should've kept it when someone else, a charity, could have it instead.

Not long after, Brad and his friends had finished drinking, eating, and talking really loudly and were ready to go. Brad got up first, sliding out of the booth and glancing around the café for (Y/N). She was serving another group of boys, however they were much more respectful than him and his friends as she smiles and laughed along with their innocent jokes. Brad's eyes lingered on her a little longer before he moves his head to face his friends who were complaining about the heat as they walked through the door.

That wasn't the last time Brad went to Retro Bites.

-

Brad walked into Retro Bites seven days later, all on his own. It had been a quiet day at the small diner, with only a few people littering around on the seats—a man sat at the bar, crying to the barman about his cheating wife, a lovestruck teenage couple smiling in the back corner, a group of young adults all laughing loudly. And then there was Brad, dressed in a white button up and his infamous black trousers.

He could see no sign of the waitress he'd arrived at the diner to see, though he thought he'd sit down and have a drink while he was here. The food and drink was nice enough, pretty standard, but the waitress he wanted to see was what really made him come back here.

He gets served by a woman with blonde hair and a kind smile as she takes his order quickly, her eyes never meeting Brad's out of fear. His name had been littered around town too many times for anyone to have the balls to look him in the eyes anymore.

Except, of course, (Y/N).

As the blonde waitress hands him his drink, he catches a glimpse of (Y/N)'s hair as she pulled up into a messy bun before taking the tray of food she needed to deliver to a the teenage couple. Brad made eye contact with her as she walked by, his fingers ghosting the ring of his latte.

"Anything else?" The waitress asks, pulling his attention from (Y/N).

"I'll have some fries," Brad says, digging out some money and handing it to her. "Keep the change."

She nods, moving away and keeping the change for herself as she gets his order of fries ready to be cooked.

"Brad Simpson wants some fries," the blonde waitress had said to the chef once she was in the kitchen and out of hearing range. "Get them done fast, yeah?"

"Yes, ma'am," the chef says, nodding and getting the fries done within only a few minutes. People knew better than to leave Brad Simpson waiting for too long.

She takes the box of fries into the diner, putting them down in front of him but his eyes were fixated on (Y/N) again as she set down some drinks for an elderly couple. As the blonde leans down to put the fries on the table, Brad's moved to the side so that he could still see (Y/N), catching her attention for a few seconds before the blonde speaks again.

"Is that everything?"

"Yeah," Brad nods, glancing at the blonde before trying to find (Y/N) again but she was walking back into the kitchen once more. He curses silently to himself, taking a sip of his latte before preying his eyes on the door in hope to grab (Y/N)'s attention again.

"Brad Simpson was looking at you," the blonde waitress had said. "Be careful, (Y/N, you know what he's like."

"I know what he's like better than anyone," she says. Most people that had confrontations with Brad Simpson never spoke about them, except her friend, Taylor. "Don't worry, I'll be careful."

Her concerned friend and co-worker nods with a smile before tending to a table that had just been sat at. (Y/N) sighs before going out of the kitchen, too, where she sorts out the money in the cash register. She could feel eyes burning into her but she shook off the feeling as she takes money from her uniform that she got from customers and puts it into the cash register, putting her tips in to the charity pot.

They money was all stuffed in her pocket from when the diner had met rush hour and she didn't have time to put the money in the cash register. Now, it had quietened down significantly as it reached closing time.

"Hey."

(Y/N) looks up, startled. It was sudden, it was confident, and it was the voice of Brad Simpson. He sits down at the bar next to the cash register, looking at her as he puts down his plastic tray of fries.

"Want one?" He offers, his eyes showing no signs of malice. She shakes her head, though, looking back down at the money in her hands as she continues to sort out the register. "You sure? I don't offer my food that often."

"I'm sure, I'm not allowed to eat on the job," she replies, her voice soft and gentle, unlike the first time Brad met her. He liked the sound of her voice.

"I won't tell if you don't," he winks, shoving the fries towards her. "Besides, you look famished. You should get some food in your system."

She glances from the fries, to Brad, to the clock, before back to Brad as she pushes the fries back to him. "I finish in thirty minutes, I can wait until then to get my own food. But thanks."

"If you say so," he says, taking a fry and eating it. "How long you worked here?"

Long enough to know the intentions of assholes like you, she thought before shrugging. "Not sure exactly. Couple years, maybe."

"And I've never seen you before last week," he drawls, glancing over her once over. "Are you busy tonight?"

"Yes."

"What are you doing?"

"Pretending I'm busy so you don't ask me to hang out with you," she says bluntly, putting the cash away and closing the draw of the cash register.

He chuckles. "You've always got a witty comeback, hm? It's quite entertaining to listen." She stares at him blankly, not biting back with a comment because she does want to give him that satisfaction. "A friend of a friend of mine is having a party tonight. You should come."

Brad Simpson didn't request people's presence, he demands it. Most people would agree, comply, no questions asked, except (Y/N).

"I already told you, I'm busy."

"I'll keep you company, (Y/N)."

She felt weird at the sound of her name rolling off of her tongue, but she shoves the feeling deep, deep down to the pit of her stomach. "You're just giving more of a reason not to go."

"Wear something nice," he says, grabbing the receipt the blonde waitress had given him when he was being served. He turns it over, scribbling some words onto it. "Here's the address, it starts at nine. I'll be disappointed if you don't come."

He downs the rest of his lukewarm latte, putting the glass on the marble bar before winking at her, leaning the diner swiftly.

She picks up the receipt with the address written onto it, glancing once over it. She shook her head, digging it into the depth of her pocket.

-

(Y/N) hated the party as soon as she walked in. She knew no one other than Brad, who she hadn't even spotted yet. People were drinking and dancing and talking and taking lines on the windowsill, and she felt uncomfortable. It wasn't her scene, she knew that before she even arrived, yet she still came without a real explanation as to why.

She wore a black dress, one that flowed from the waist yet still showed off her entire figure perfectly. Her hair was curled as it sat by her breasts, she wore a bracelet on her wrist and a ring on her middle finger, and she wore hooped earrings. She felt stunning, she looked stunning.

"Hello, beautiful," a voice says in her ear and she turns around, hand raised in defence and surprise, thankful its only Brad. Her shoulders relaxed. "Knew you'd end up coming. Can I get you a drink?"

She looked over his outfit for a moment, taking in his appearance. He wore black jeans that were cuffed up at the bottom, a brown plaited belt to keep them up while a white shirt was tucked into his jeans. He looked good, she couldn't deny that, but she knew it wasn't enough to make him get what he wanted from her. She wasn't as shallow to go for someone over their looks.

"No. I don't drink."

He nods slowly, his arm going over his shoulder because he knew people were looking at him. More specifically, the guys who wanted to catch (Y/N)'s attention and the girls who wanted to catch his attention. Brad was making a statement, claiming her as his for the night, proving to make sure that no one tried it on with her.

They walk through the lounge of the party, more people bustled around as they dance and laugh and gossip and drink. He had ditched his red solo cup somewhere else a while ago, which made it easier to spin her around and hold her hands at arms' length.

"Dance?" He says loudly over the music and she nods, letting him pull her close.

Her arms were slung loosely over his neck, his hands on her waist as they swayed to the beat of the slow song that he had told the DJ to put on 'once he was dancing with the prettiest girl in the room'.

"Surprised you came tonight," he starts a conversation, his head looking downwards as he makes eye contact with her.

"Me too," she says. "Don't know why I did come, actually. I don't like it here very much."

They both knew why she came, but neither of them wanted to say it to one another. She would just deny it and he would rub it in her face.

He spins her around as the beat drops in the song. She only turns one hundred and eighty degrees, causing Brad to pull her back flush again his chest. His lips dipped down to her ear, brushing over and sending a tingling sensation over her entire body.

"You look very pretty tonight," he says in her ear quietly. "The dress suits you, it's nice seeing you out of your uniform."

He spins her again, she turns a few times before he pulls her back to his chest, this time so they're facing each other.

"If the only reason you invited me here tonight was to offer me compliments so I'll end up sleeping with you, then I'll be leaving," she says, pushing herself away from his chest.

He was surprised, never being rejected before. Nonetheless, he begins to play it off cool. "Who said anything about sleeping together?"

"I'm not stupid, I think I know your intentions," she shakes her head. "You forget that you're known around town a lot, I've heard the rumours about you."

Rumours. Rumours, rumours, rumours. He hated that word, he hated every letter of it. There were too many untrue rumours about him, that the word started to settle wrong in his bones. There was nothing he hated more than falsities.

"They're rumours for a reason," he says but she shakes her head. "But believe what you want."

She takes a few steps back. "I'm going to go home, this isn't my scene." He doesn't react, he just watches her move away from him before she turns and walks out of the house, glad that the visit was short.

-

(Y/N) walks out of her work, just finishing her final shift of the week. She was ready to go home, relax, take some time to herself. After the failed party the night before, she was still exhausted from getting ready to go out.

She walks through the door, pulling her jacket tight over her body. It was cold as the darkness began to settle over the blue skies, turning it navy and the clouds gray.

"Y/N)," Brad's voice startled here, always seeming to be welcomed by surprise. She turns to her left to see him leaning against his motorbike with his arms folded. "I came to apologise."

"For what?"

"Misleading my intentions," he says, pushing himself off of the bike as he walks over to her. She sighs, not wanting to engage in a silly conversation with him. It wasn't that serious, she had hoped he'd get the hint and would leave her alone though.

"I'm not bothered, Brad. You didn't have to drive all this way to apologise."

"I know, but it felt like it an apology was due," he says, lifting up sunglasses she didn't even notice he was wearing. "For my comments the first time we met, for pushing you to go to the party, for misleading you with my intentions."

"Apology accepted," she says, beginning to move forward but Brad steps in front of her. "What are you doing? I have a bus to catch?"

"What's your address? I'll take you home," he offers and she opens her mouth to object but he beats her to it. "Consider it a part of my apology."

She sighs, nodding only because it would be quicker for her to get home. She's compliant, following him to his bike before he hands her his helmet, causing her to frown.

"You're not wearing one?"

"I've been riding this bike for years," he says with a chuckle. "Don't need one, really. Besides, you should wear it so you feel safer."

She nods slowly, putting it on her head before clipping it together. She gets on the bike, sat behind him as he grips the bike handles, ready to leave.

"Hold on tight, (Y/N)," he says as he turns it on. "Don't want you falling off."

She sighs, holding on to his torso as she jokes. "I'm starting to think that this was your way of getting me to hold you."

He chuckles before getting her address and setting off, the roar of the engine loud in her sensitive ears as they drive through the streets of Long Valley. It was dark, street lights blocking out the shadows as they lit up people's faces. Barely anyone was walking on the sidewalks anyway, most people resorting to driving at this time of night. The few shops that were open were dimly lit and mostly empty, giving the town a barren feeling.

When they arrive at her address, Brad turns off the engine of his motorcycle and helps her off as she's a bit dizzy. He only knew he way to her house because he's known every inch of Long Valley since he was a little kid.

"Thank you," she says honestly once she's off of the bike and has her balance back.

"My pleasure," he says. "Maybe I'll see you around, (Y/N)."

#aesthetic #all night #brad simpson #bradley will simpson #connor ball #james mcvey #middle of the night #night and day #the vamps #the vamps aesthetic #brad simpson blurb #brad simpson imagine