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rhas-writes · 2 years

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How an Alchemist Feels - Albedo x Reader

Another addition to my Fallen Archon Reader! (I like this title better) thoughts. However, can still be read as a standalone.

Spoiler's! for Albedo's lore.

Content? Fluff, falling in love, strangers to friends to something. Format? Bulleted headcanons/imagines. Pronouns? You/Your.

Synopsis: Little scenarios of Albedo's overall relationship with you.

Extra: Reader is a fallen archon in this, but it kinda? doesn't matter.

- - -

There's an uncanny sense of familiarity when Albedo first meets you. It's like he already knows you beyond your moniker of Mondstat's Eastern Breeze. But that's impossible, he's never met you before. Surely he would remember someone as striking as you.

How curious. He questions himself for days on end, wondering if he truly did see a knowing smirk on your face. Did your eyes dance with amusement upon seeing his visage? Did your chest swell with pride upon hearing his unknown past from other members of the Knights of Favonius? Did any of this really happen? Or was he just overanalyzing his interaction with you?

What a challenge it is to impress the Chief Alchemist of the Knights of Favonius in his field of study, but oh you do it without trying. Your splash potions are a marvel - concoctions of pure elemental energy that make up for your lack of a Vision.

Albedo never thought he'd have ease in conversing with someone but you happily ruin his theory. You just understand. Be it alchemy, history, or just a mundane topic, a conversation with you is always comfortable.

Surprising himself and his students, Albedo allows you to help with many of his experiments. Typically, he detests any possible distractions. But that's just it. You're not a distraction. You keep him focused, determined. Experiments that go for days on end and yield no result aren't a waste if it's time spent with you.

Over many nights spent together in his beloved lab, Albedo learns more about you. In turn, you learn more about him. Both of you jot down information about each other in your respective notebooks. Perhaps it's a bond between researchers, but there is an innate trust between you and him. Neither of you really keep the truths about yourselves a secret from each other.

For the first time since his master abandoned him, Albedo feels like he truly belongs. A creation and a creator camouflaging among humans. The two of you are a pair of outsiders in a nation that welcomes all.

Although you fear Albedo only grows closer to you out of his attachment to your friend, Rhinedottir, he reassures you this is not the case. Sure, there is comfort in knowing you once spent time with his mother but he seeks your presence for you alone.

Albedo does not think much on his friendship with you until you're gone for a three month-long expedition. He waits for a response to his rambling only to turn to an empty stool placed next to his desk. While knee-deep in an experiment, he wordlessly reaches a hand out. His brows furrow as Sucrose awkwardly asks what he needs. It's only after he blinks a few times does he remember you're not the one assisting him. The scent of decay fills his lab before he remembers to change out your flower bouquets. He should be annoyed another task has been added onto his long to-do list, but he misses you less after doing part of your usual routine.

As the weeks drag on, he finds himself doing more things that remind him of you. He finally reads those light novels you suggested and enjoys them. He practices cooking your favorite dish as a surprise for your return. He visits your favorite places regularly, even the ones not on Dragonspine. He plays with Klee more often knowing she's missing you too. He writes about his day in a journal, just in case you both need something to talk about (which is doubtful but he's prepared nonetheless).

When news of your return reaches Albedo, he is pacing in his neglected office in the Knights of Favonius' headquarters. You were three days late and he was preparing to go on an expedition to look for you. He runs to Angel's Share where your welcome party is being held, caring not of the odd stares he receives.

Seeing your tired but smiling face brings an overwhelming relief he's never felt before. You're here. You're safe. His stomach flips and his breath hitches when you look at him. Although he's not one for social anything, he takes a seat in the tavern. He doesn't contribute much to conversations, he just wants to be near you again.

At the end of the night, when most have gone home or are too drunk to listen, Albedo takes your hands and locks eyes with you. "Please refrain from going on such a long expedition again. If you must, allow me to accompany you. Two minds are better than one, no?"

It's odd. Albedo knows of the many feelings humans are capable of having, but is he experiencing them as well? His symptoms cannot be sickness - he's not even sure he can get sick, he should really test that one of these days. Increased heart rate, dry mouth, sweaty palms, all are indicative of many emotions. Perhaps, the most likely emotions is love??

Love...Love? Love?! Does he love you? He's unsure. He doesn't have enough data. What would loving you even mean for him? Love isn't an automatic gateway to a relationship. Does it matter if he loves you? Testing. More tests need to be done. But...how does he test if he's in love?

All Albedo is certain of is he cares for you. The way his shoulders tense hearing you've been injured, the soft smile curling his lips watching you play with Klee, the accidental sketches of you on research papers, the longing for that brief warmth of your hand brushing against his - all of it and more tells him he cares. To what extent? Well, only time will tell.

- - -

Published: 24 May 2022

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #albedo x reader #fluff #sfw #gender neutral reader #albedo headcanons #genshin imagines #genshin headcanons #genshin fluff #genshin albedo #albedo kreideprinz #albedo #klee #x reader #reader insert

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mysticalrambling · 3 years

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Coming Home (C.E)

Chris Evans Fanfiction (Fanfiction Masterlist)

Summary: dad!Chris Evans. Chris comes home to his twins fighting and he scolds them. But he also takes care of their wounds with you and then you all go out to eat ice cream and have a family day.

Warnings: None. Minimum angst but fluff all the way.

._._._._.

"Where are the kids?" Your husband came and sat right next to you on the couch. It was a shock to him when he didn't see his two little munchkins clinging to his legs the moment he entered the house. It has been kind of their routine from the moment they could walk on their little two legs.

“They are busy playing in their play room. Why are you not happy about it?” You knew that after a full day of shooting, coming home to two energetic kids was tiring and stressful. So you were shocked when he wasn’t glad to have a moment of peace by himself.

“Well, they are a part of my routine now. It feels weird not having them jumping around me.” The three year olds have always been more attached to Chris than you. Initially, you were a little jealous that the twins focused all their attention on your husband but now you were glad. Having a piece of quiet while he handled the children was pretty awesome.

You both had pretty successful careers and when the twins came into your lives, you both decided that you would handle it all together. In the start, each one of your married girlfriend told you that you had to quit your job as the marketing head because being a mom was a full time job. You were scared and when you shared your concerns with Chris, he consoled you and told you that you would both do it all. Having successful careers while being good parents.

“Just spend sometime with me while Emma and Jason are distracted.” Pouring him a glass of wine, you leaned in to him with your head on his shoulder.

“That is a good way to spend my evening. How was your day, sweetheart?”

“It was hell. My boss gave me a project to complete with a bizarre timeline and when I couldn’t complete it on time. He just took it all out on me in front of my colleague.” Today was humiliating for you and you couldn’t wait to get home, drink a nice glass of wine and relax. “Hated it, babe. How about you?

“Well, my co star couldn’t get her part right so we had to do the same scene five times. We are behind on shooting now and I have to get up early tomorrow morning so that we can catch up to the schedule.” Sighing, he took a long sip of the red liquid and felt his muscles relaxing.

There was a moment of silence that enveloped the room and you just basked in it. “A crappy day for us both.”

“Indeed. Let’s do something exciting then.” He kissed you and just when things were about to get heated, a piercing scream interrupted the moment.

“What-What is happening?” He was still in a haze and couldn’t properly interpret anything.

“It looks like your kids are fighting again.”

“Are you going to handle them?”

“Oh no!” Laughing at his incredulous request, you picked up your glass again. “You wanted to spend time with them so go on.”

Chris got up from the couch and went upstairs. Emma and Jason love each other to death but they have been fighting from the womb. Emma is the stubborn one and while, Jason backs out most of the time. Sometimes, he retaliates and it turns real bad, real fast. They were pretty hot headed, just like you.

“What is happening here?” The dad mode was fully in place when he saw his little girl sitting on the floor with hands pressed to a bloody forehead and his little boy trying to console her.

“She pushed me and then I pushed her. Not my fault. But she hurt, daddy.” The panic in Jason’s eyes was evident.

“(Y/N)! Come here, right now!” You scrambled to your feet as soon as Chris’s voice boomed across the living room. “You never hurt your sister, Jason. This is not alright.” The stern voice was new for Chris but the situation required it.

“But, daddy-”

“No excuses, Mister. Now, apologise to your sister and no toys for you for the whole week.” He got in to action with the first aid kit that he took out of their walk in closet. Emma was still crying her lungs out even when Chris tried to console her. She was not letting him touch the wound and was squirming uncontrollably in his lap.

“Daddy, why you always bla- blame me? Hate you.” Hiccuping, he stuttered on the big words and then stomped out of the room. You tried to stop your son but he just ran past you.

“What is- Oh my god!” The blood was now soaking up your little girl’s shirt and she still wouldn’t let Chris touch the wound.

The one thing that your kids inherited from your husband was the fear of blood and stitches. The small three year old knew that a boo boo that hurts really bad will lead to stitches. You knew how to handle all three of your babies in situation like these. Taking Emma from your husband, you hugged her lightly.

“Bubba, I need to look at your boo boo and then you can have the Elsa bandage.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.” When she removed her chubby, little hand, you were relieved that the cut was not big or deep. A bandage would just do the trick. You softly hummed a tune in her ears while you applied an antiseptic to the wound and then the band aid. She had tears streaming down her face and she was sniffling quietly. Chris took her from you when you were done and gently rocked her in his arms. He always loved it when both your children seeked comfort in you. It reminded him of how lucky he was to have you. “Where did Jason go?”

“I scolded his regarding this and he threw a tantrum.” When Emma heard Jason’s name, she further curled herself into his chest.

“Give her to me.” Raising her face by holding her chin, you sternly asked her. “Tell me what happened, young lady?”

With a guilty tone, she told you both that she was the one who pushed Jason first. They were both playing with the doll house that Chris bought Emma as her third birthday present. Jason wanted to add his toy cars to the doll house but she won’t allow it. She pushed him first and he hit his wrist on the small coffee table but then he pushed her back. When she fell back, she hit her head on the side of the wooden house.

“You are going to apologise to him, Emma. I told you that this much anger is not alright, bubba.” Chris took her to the twin’s room that had two different themes running through it. Emma was never a fan of the color pink so she went with purple and Jason really loved yellow, so he got that. The room looked like a clown’s den but Chris was never the one to deny his children’s requests. They had his whole heart well, except you.

“Jace, Emma would like to say something to you.” Setting her on her feet, she went towards his elder brother by barely three minutes.

“I am sorry, Jacey. Never should have pushed you. Kiss your boo boo to make up?” He nodded gently when his sister climbed in to the body. Extending the bruised wrist, Emma held it in her hands and lightly pecked on it. Meanwhile, you got a numbing cream for Jason and you stopped in the doorway with Chris and watched their interaction. They were your and Chris’s two little bundle of joys and you both couldn’t get enough.

“I am sorry that I yelled at you, baby. You two will not have your toys for a week. But who wants ice cream right now?” They both jumped at the mention of their favorite treat.

Chris had a way with the children. He completed all their wishes from eating ice cream as dinner or buying the most expensive toys for them. Making them happy was his primary job and he fulfilled it with great joy. However, he knew when to step up. He knew when to tell them no because he didn’t want his children to be some spoiled brats. He knew how to mediate and that was one of the many thing that you loved about him.

“I will get your jackets while daddy will help you with your shoes.” Going downstairs, you placed Dodger’s food in his bowl because you were going to be out for sometime. Chris always turns a simple outing to a full blown family day. A walk in the park, dinner at a high end restaurant and then shopping at the mall.

“Let’s go.” He buckled both the kids in their respective booster seats and made sure that they both had their preferred stuff toys. God knows, if they didn’t have them on their car ride.

The ice cream place on the fifth avenue was your favorite because it was where Chris took you on your first date. Both the children went for chocolate ice creams and Chris cleaned them up after they were done anything. It was so wholesome to watch him perform his dad duties.

“Then Oliver tried to eat dirt and the teacher gave him a time out.” You never understood why your son was friends with that boy because all he ever cared about was dirt.

“That’s why I hate boys. They are dirty.”

“That’s right, bubba. They are all dirty and disgusting. You stay away from all of them.” Gently nudging him with your shoulders, you playfully scoffed at him. He was sometimes very protective of his children.

“Ollie said girls also have icky germs.”

“Yes. You also stay away from them.” Chris was full on laughing at the situation right now because both the kids were in some serious thoughts.

“Okay dadda.” They both started skipping on the side walk and already started bickering about who was their dad’s favorite. He took you in his arms and kissed you on the forehead.

“Thank you for all this, babe. I love you.” He was truly thankful for you and for everything that you brought in his life.

“I love you too. Now let’s buckle them in before they start pushing each other again.”

Hope you guys enjoyed it!!

._._._._.

A/N: Dad Chris Evans is a dream so I wanted to write a little blurb related to this idea. Hope you guys enjoyed it. You guys can send in requests but I will get to them a little bit later because I am focusing on my drafts right now. Tell me if you guys want to be added to the tag list.

Taglist: @justile

Like, comment and reblog.

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acourtofsnakes · 3 years

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A Helping Hand - Bucky Barnes x Reader (f)

(Gif: @sebastianruinedme )

Summary: After a stressful week, you try to wind down with some personal time but nothing quite hits that spot. And a certain Super Soldier may just be more than willing to help you.

Warnings: 18+ Smut - Masturbation/toys, Oral (f receiving), fingering, neck play, arm/hand kink, dirty talk, a faint Dom theme if you squint, swearing – honestly, Bucky should just be a kink in himself.

Word count: 5k+ words full of hot playtime.

A/N: This is just filth, to be honest. I was feeling a certain way after watching episode 3 of TFATWS and seeing that scene with Bucky cleaning his hand and… ideas happened, and this was born. There’s not really a plot… simply enjoy.

Smut under the cut!!

Permanent Taglist: @greeneyedblondie44 @mamacitapascal

Part 2

There was something to be said about the advancement of toys in recent years.

There were hundreds of them. All different types. For all different things.

Rabbits, waterproof vibrators, pulsating and pounding ones, ones that felt like oral, handsfree vibrators, remote control vibrators – the list went on.

You had a lot. Tucked in a drawer of your dresser in a pretty box that just made you go all tingly in the knees every time you saw it.

You were proud of your collection.

And boy, did you love them.

They never let you down, ever.

But unfortunately, tonight was just not one of those nights.

It has been a tough week.

Not only had you taken a beating in training yesterday, but you were also late for an appointment across the city, which resulted in being yelled at by Fury.

You really regretted decided to help him when he needed it.

There wasn’t a lot going on lately, so you offered to help Fury when he needed it.

Usually, you were on his food side.

Yesterday, not so much.

Everything seemed out to get you, and after the shit show of the week, you just wanted to treat yourself. So, you’d holed yourself up in your room on your floor of the compound, had a long, luxurious soak in the bath, and then decided to work out your anxiety and tension with one of your many, many friends.

And for the first time in a while, they just weren’t hitting that spot.

Literally.

You groaned, throwing the third toy - this one a rabbit that was one of your most trusty companions - on the side of your bed.

For the last forty minutes, you’d been dancing between three different toys and your fingers.

You’d tried being on your belly, your side, and your back. You’d even tried a pillow.

But nothing was the right pressure on your clit, no toy or finger felt deep enough inside, and you couldn’t hit that spot inside without getting a wicked cramp in your wrist that forced you to stop.

You sat up, every nerve in your body wound to a knife edge, leaving you frustrated and tempted to throttle someone.

Or get someone to throttle you.

Preferably whilst pinning you to a wall... or a desk.

Or anywhere really.

You just needed something, anything to get out this frustration and give you the release you’d been desperately chasing all night.

It wasn’t even a case of hovering on the edge - you couldn’t even get there. The fire and heat just stayed a kindling ember in your belly, and never reaching that explosive fire.

After getting up and downing a measure of whiskey whilst watching the rain, you decided to try a last-ditch attempt with a different toy.

This one was a curved vibrator, with a thicker rounder head for supposedly perfect pressure on your g-spot.

Simple, straight forward.

Surely, if none of the others had done it, this one finally would.

After settling back on your bed, you took a little more care this time, even going as far to light a few candles to add an ambiance to the room rather than have it pitch black with the sounds of the rain.

You worked yourself up this time, building it slowly, teasing yourself with brushes of your fingertips over your throat and breasts, setting your skin ablaze.

You pushed yourself to the edge a little, and then worked over with your vibrator.

Until ten minutes later, when you literally launched the vibrator across the room and it hit the wall with a resounding thud, that echoed your hiss of frustration. “Fucking hell.”

A shit week, a shit day, and you couldn’t even fuck yourself well enough to be able to wind down and get some sleep.

There was a sudden knock and then Bucky’s voice echoed through your bedroom door. “Darlin’?” There was a slight hint of his Brooklyn accent peeping through at the end, stirring something within you.

You startled, sitting bolt upright and your head snapped to the door, “Bucky?” You had the good sense to lock the door, but still. He was right there.

His shadow moved beneath the door, and you realised he was leaning against it, “Is everything alright? I heard banging.”

Well, no not really. I’ve been trying to get myself off for the last hour and nothing appears to be working and I’m sitting here naked whilst you’re the other side of my door calling me Darling in that ridiculously hot accent that shouldn’t even be that hot. But hey, apart from that, everything’s great.

You slid off the bed, padding across the room after dropping your toys back in their drawer, glaring at it as you passed. You slipped a robe on before making your way across the fluffy rug to the door, “Yeah, I’m okay...” You unlocked the door, tugging it open.

Bucky was leaning against the doorframe, all broad shoulders, long lines and soft smile.

His searing blue eyes were instantly locked onto you, a smirk playing on those gorgeous lips.

He cocked his head, standing there with his arms crossed, and you noticed that for once, he wasn’t wearing any gloves. Just a simple long-sleeved T-shirt, jeans that hung sinfully close to his hips and... no boots. Just socks.

Like he’d taken his shoes off before waking into your apartment.

Ever the gentleman.

His arm was bare, the soft light of the hall bouncing off of the black vibranium and sparking the gold. You’d always loved his arm. The sheer power of it, the way you’d seen it shatter a man’s ribs instantly and tear through a brick wall like it was made of glass. The same hand that tickled behind the ears of a stray kitten in Prospect Park and test the ripeness of plums at the market.

You wanted that hand around your throat.

Eyes the colour of the Arctic sea roamed over your body, from your slightly mussed up hair to the flush along your neck that disappeared in the dip of your dressing gown. “Mm... are you sure about that?” He tilted his coyly, a smirk playing on his lips and you had a feeling this expression had been one of the trademarks since the 40’s.

You narrowed your eyes at him, more than aware that he was seeing far more than you wanted him to, “I’m fine.” You turned from the door, leaving it open for him to come in, “How comes you’re up on my floor, anyway?” You peered over your shoulder at him as you padded across the room to the drinks cart.

Yes, there was a bar on your floor, but why couldn’t you have a cart in your room? Tony hadn’t even needed to ask when designing it.

Bucky walked in, his footfalls silent like a cat, that training never quite leaving him, “I couldn’t sleep. No nightmares, just restless.” He added the last part quickly, in response to the concern that tightened your expression.

It was nothing unusual, Bucky coming up here to your room.

You often found each other after nightmares or rough days, seeking comfort and distraction from the darkness that lingered.

Some days and nights, you went out, needing an outside diversion from the thoughts.

Other times, you stayed in, watching films, talking, training or just... sitting quietly, knowing that the other persons presence was enough protection and reassurance. Words weren’t needed… just company.

You handed him a drink, plopping down on the end of your bed and you watched him sink into the couch opposite, “Anything you wanna talk about?”

Since everything with the War, Bucky was working on fitting back into a routine, into ‘normal’ life - or what could be considered normal for people like yourselves.

He was undergoing his mandatory therapy sessions, and they seemed to be helping him.

He was back in contact with Sam, and the pair even worked a few jobs together now and then, even if they did bicker like an old married couple - it provided great entertainment when you tagged along.

He leant back on the couch, settling his left arm across the back. He always looked at home on your floor, relaxed, like his mind could shut off a little. “Nah, I’m okay... Thank you though.” He shot you an easy smile again, one that he probably hadn’t used in.... decades. “What about you? Why are you up so late?”

Mimicking his shrug, you kept your expression neutral, making sure your eyes didn’t drift to that certain drawer, “Rough week. I was reading to try and drift off.”

“Mmmhm...” Bucky’s hummed response told you instantly that he did not believe you one bit. “What were you reading? Cosmopolitan’s best guide to toys?” That shit eating grin graced his face and he motioned gracefully with his left hand... to the corner of the room.

The vibrator you’d launched was sitting on the floor, nestled in the rug, the soft mint green silicone practically a beacon.

Okay.

Okay…. So. There were two ways you could respond to this.

Either play it off, deny it and change the subject.

Or…

Turning back to him, you shrugged again, “Oh, I’ve read that back to front. And made a few additions myself.” You cocked your head, a faint flutter in your belly as you awaited his response.

The barest flicker of surprise danced across his beautiful, rugged features before dissolving into something confident and smouldering. “Well, it looks to me like their guide isn’t true to review tonight. Something tells me you’re having a little bit of trouble.” His voice had begun to lower into a deeper, the natural roughness of his voice coming out.

It stoked that fire within you, warming your blood and curling low in your belly.

“And if I was? What would you suggest to help?” It was almost impossible to remain sitting still as the atmosphere folded and changed. There was one obvious route to your back and forth… and you wanted it.

Wanted… him.

And if you were honest, you had for a long time now. There was just something about him that you’d always been drawn to, a simmering tension that settled whenever you were together.

Bucky rose from the sofa in a fluid movement, walking toward you slowly, casually, but with the grace and prowl of a wolf eyeing up its next meal – you.

And fuck, you wanted him to devour you.

He slid his hands into his pockets, feet silent on your wooden floor, “Well… I would say that as wonderful as your toys may be… they’re just that. Toys. They can’t… feel what you like.” His eyes burned through you with each of his steps. “They don’t hear the noises you make when they hit the right spot. They don’t get to see the way your body reacts, the way your teeth sink into your bottom lip because it feels overwhelmingly good.”

He was close enough for you to smell his cologne, and that only added to the growing wetness between your thighs as his filthy, beautiful words.

Bucky stopped in front of you, removing his left hand and touching his fingers to your chin to tilt it up to face him, “They can’t know the little things… the deeper angle, that extra finger or sweep of the tongue… they can’t make you so wet that it runs down your thighs and they can’t make you arch off the bed as you shatter into starlight…” He sighed softly, shaking his head in mock disappointment, “I’m afraid they just… can’t make you come the way a real person could.” He applied a little pressure to the underside of your chin, and you rose to your – unsteady - feet instantly, putty in his hands.

Holy fuck, Bucky Barnes had a mouth on him.

Your teeth had indeed sunk into your lower lip, and your breathing had grown shallow. It was an effort to keep your thighs firmly locked together… Because you were just as wet as he had said.

The dark flame in his eyes told you that he knew the reaction you were having to him. He brushed a cool thumb over your lip, then tugged it gently to free it from your teeth and at the same time, he leant his head down to your level, “They can’t make you come like I can, darlin’.” This close, his warm lips brushed the shell of your ear, his voice reduced to a husky rasp that only further drew out that Brooklyn accent.

The soft moan that left your lips was almost pitiful, but you didn’t care, “Shit.”

You breathed the word, earning a deep chuckle in your ear before Bucky pulled back, only enough to see your face, “You want me to help you? Give you a helping hand?” His words were low and seductive, but he was looking between your eyes, making no more moves until he knew you wanted this.

If you changed your mind, he would leave right now, and say no more about it.

That very thought pained you.

Something had always hovered between you both… and maybe now was the time to let it out. You shared a few kisses on nights out and he had featured heavily in your fantasies night after night, wishing your fingers were his, the toys were him….

You met his eyes, your own clear and sure and you kept that gaze as you parted your lips. Then swept your tongue along his thumb and tilted your head down just enough to take it between your lips. The vibranium was smooth, cold and it felt oddly delightful on your tongue. “Make me come, Bucky. Prove to me you’re better than the toys.” Your voice was low with need, a soft pleading note for him there as you gazed up through your eyelashes.

The Arctic blue of his eyes deepened to near midnight, his pupils blowing out as he watched you talk around his thumb, your tongue sweeping over the metal and he almost purred, “Oh, baby, you won’t need toys when I’m done.” And then he was on you.

He gently pulled his hand from your face, instead placing it lightly around your neck, the heavy metal settling on your collarbones and that alone drenched you.

He looked between your eyes, checking one final time and then his mouth was lowering onto yours, his lips warm, plush and ever so inviting. Instantly, he licked a teasing line along your lips, which you would have parted for him without the request.

Bucky’s tongue slipped past your lips, sweeping against yours in hot strokes as he explored every corner of your mouth.

He tasted divine, and even more so when his thumb lightly tipped your chin back and he traced the tip of his tongue along the roof of your mouth, licking over the ridges and showing you exactly what that tongue could do.

A groan left your lips, and you slid your hands up his arms to those shoulders, those gorgeous broad shoulders that all you wanted to do was dig your nails into them and use for support as you rode him.

A deep curl of delight and joy was unfurling within the heat in your belly, because you needed this, needed more of him and his hands and his tongue and his words… and you were finally getting it

Hell, he had only just started kissing you and you already could have fallen apart just from that.

“Why have we not been doing this all the time?” Was the only thought that your already fuzzy mind could come up with as he pulled away slowly from your lips, only to begin pressing hot, open kisses against your jaw that were all teeth and tongue. He seared a path to your neck, kissing all over until he found that particular spot that made you whimper and arch into his body.

Bucky laughed low against your neck, the sound vibrating, “Oh, baby, you were struggling, weren’t you? I’ve barely even touched you and you’re already a mess…” He used his hand on your throat to tilt your head to the side, before biting at your skin, sweeping his tongue over the hot and sucking a deep mark there.

A slight whine rippled in your throat, fingers pulling as his shirt and your chest pushed against his, the firm heat of him making your nipples tighten, especially when he pushed into you.

Bucky slipped a hand between your bodies, tugging at the cord of your dressing gown and it slipped from your shoulders, leaving you bare and open to him.

He licked down your neck, his tongue smoothing over the shape of your collarbones and then down your sternum to your breasts. He butterfly kissed the soft flesh, then almost delicately sucked at your rleft nipple, lifting his vibranium hand to squeeze the other, “So beautiful…” He mumbled it half to himself, his dark mussed up curls soft against your skin.

One of your hands trailed up the back of his neck, slightly tangling in the hair at the base of his head and you pushed your chest further into his mouth, “Tease.” The word was a soft gasp, your eyes closing in pleasure and your lips parting.

He chuckled, pulling back to blow a cool breath on the wet skin, watching your nipple harden and then he moved to give the other the same treatment, “Oh, I’m a tease, am I? I can stop if you like.” He grinned around the delicate skin, just slightly grazing his teeth as he tugged your nipple and then he continued his trail of kisses down your body, slowly sinking to his knees. “I don’t think you’ll ask me to stop though, darlin’.” His right hand grasped your ankle, and then he ghosted warm fingertips up your leg, past your knee and then pausing at your inner thigh, at what he felt there, “No. No I don’t think you’ll ask me to stop at all.”

The cocky bastard grinned once more against your stomach, before dipping his tongue inside your belly button.

“Bucky…” You couldn’t hide the whimper in your voice, nor the way your hips rocked forward in a plea. It was almost painful how much you needed him to touch you, needed to feel his lips and his tongue.

“Shhh, baby, I know.” His hands slipped up your waist, as soothing as his gentle coo against your belly button and then he brushed his lips lower and lower… and then finally, he pressed a soft butterfly kiss to your pubic bone.

A low groan tore from his throat, his hands digging into the soft flesh of your hips as he saw you, swollen and positively dripping for him, “Oh, darlin’, look at you…”

The sheer desire and awe in his low voice caused heat to flush along your cheekbones. You weren’t shy by any means, but the almost primal admiration in his voice was something you’d never heard before, the pure want and desire to make you feel good and worship you.

Bucky admired the sight before him for a single moment, before lifting his eyes to yours and then he dove in, immediately devouring you like he was starving. His deft tongue slipped through your slick folds with ease, and he moaned again at your taste, at your smell, everything.

He pressed his tongue flat against you before sucking at your clit, with such an intensity that you almost choked. It was a simple movement, but it shot electricity through your body and made every single nerve stand on end.

He let that coil of energy begin to build, and then he licked back down, his hands sliding down to palm at your ass cheeks before digging his fingers into your skin, pulling you in further so he could bury his nose against your clit and his tongue – fuck, his tongue pushed inside of you, hot and heavy. It just felt so, so good, his nose putting pressure on your bundle of nerves, his tongue pumping inside you.

Your hands flew down to his hair, winding through it to keep him there, keep him doing that, to keep him fucking you with his tongue, “Buck-”. You weren’t sure what you were begging him for, only that you just needed to say his name, needed to do something.

Your hips began to rock in time with his thrusts, and you became aware of it only when Bucky’s muffled moan reverberating through you.

He liked it, no... he loved this, that you were grinding against his face as his tongue worked inside you, tasting parts of you no one else had ever gotten right before.

“Fuck, Bucky, keep doing that – I’m-” You cut off with a high moan, your head tilting back as you rocked into him faster, chasing down that high that was so tantalisingly close. It hadn’t taken long, you were so worked up from your failed attempts that you were already there.

Bucky’s began to lick and suck you with new fervour, his head moving in time with the jerks of his hips, feeling the way your walls were tightening around his tongue. His fingers dug harder into your ass, and you felt the silent command almost, Come.

And you did.

You cried his name out to the sky, every nerve in your body winding to near painful tautness before you shattered on his face, your first orgasm ripping through you.

Bucky didn’t stop, working you through it and drawing it out further and further as he lapped up every single drop you gave him, moaning himself like it was the most tantalising thing he had ever tasted.

He stopped only when your grip released on his hair, the sensitivity of your nerves almost painful, your legs shaking like crazy and he lifted his hand from between your thighs, his lips and chin glistening. He rose from his knees, nudging you back onto the bed and instantly crawling up your body, “You have no idea how good you taste.”

You whimpered slightly, catching your breath as you watched him crawl up you, eyes burning like sapphire fire, his tongue licking slowly over his lips as he savoured you. Words were beyond you, desire still coursing through your veins and you were a little in awe at how quickly – and hard – he had brought you to your first orgasm.

Bucky grinned devilishly, “That won’t be your last.” He lowered his mouth back to yours and as you tasted yourself on him, you grew instantly wet for him again.

His body brushed into yours and you felt how painfully hard he was through his jeans, the sounds and taste of you getting to him of course.

Your fingers had barely brushed against his restrained length when he shook his head, nipping at your lower lip, “Oh no, baby, this is all about you.”

You ignored him, palming him through his jeans and he moaned lowly before his eyes flashed, his hand suddenly back on your throat and he moved his hips away so you couldn’t get to him. “I said no.” It was almost a snarl, “This is about you. Not me.” His hand tightened just slightly around your throat, making it that little bit harder to breathe and your eyes rolled back at how delicious it felt.

It was a huge kink for you, the idea of someone – of Bucky - taking control, being in control of your body even it was just for a little while. You didn’t need to think or do anything. Only feel and be at the mercy of his touch.

You relented, legs falling open for him and you tilted your head back, searching for his lips.

Bucky granted you the kiss, a slow, languid kiss at first that was all simmering passion and tangling tongues, the taste on you still lingering on his lips.

He palmed your breast again, tugging and squeezing the flesh until he scratched his nails lightly down your ribcage and belly.

Yes, yes-

He wasted no time, no more playing and his fingers slipped lower, circling over your clit with a delicious pressure that had you instantly moaning into his mouth.

He toyed with your clit a little more, before gathering your wetness and then sinking two fingers inside you, pushing all the way into his knuckles, then drawing back out slowly.

As he withdrew, you moaned long and slow into his mouth and he began a steady rhythm. Pushing and curling his fingers inside you a few steps, then circling and pulling at your clit, ever so subtly switching it up with each pass so you couldn’t predict what he would do.

It felt amazing, but… there was something still missing. It still wasn’t quite enough to send you over that final edge… it wasn’t what you’d been fantasising about.

No, it was his left hand. That dark, golden vibranium hand that was currently seated around your throat.

The knowledge of what it could do, the sheer power in it that could easily crush your windpipe or shatter your jaw with a single flick of his wrist.

That is what you needed.

Those cool, powerful fingers inside you, working you over – that was the best toy.

It was like he could read your mind somehow, or the way your body sung to his tune. He lifted his head, looking down at you with those searing blues and he cocked his head, a slow grin lighting his gorgeous face, “Oh… This-” he scissored his fingers inside you, stretching your walls and ever so slightly brushing up against that spot, “isn’t quite what you want, is it, darlin’?”

Holy Christ, he was going to destroy you before you even got what you wanted.

You looked up at him, panting, hips rocking to the slower thrust of his fingers and you shook your head.

Bucky swore softly, panting himself and he squeezed your throat once before lifting his fingers, “You want these, don’t you?”

Instead of answering him, you ducked your head, taking his three fingers into your mouth and immediately gliding your tongue around them, up and down in slow, dirty strokes.

The effect was instantaneous. Bucky’s hips jerked slightly against yours, his mouth parting as he watched you suck his vibranium fingers, hollowing your cheeks, eyes rolling back in your head like… like it was something else entirely.

He groaned, swore again and then almost ripped his fingers from your mouth and from between your legs at the same time.

Your entire body mourned the loss, feeling empty, clenching around nothing but mere seconds later, he plunged those three vibranium fingers inside of you, slick with your saliva and how unbelievably wet you were.

It stung a little, but only added to the feeling as your hips rose off the bed, “Shit, shit-”

They felt… like the best toy you could ever imagine. Smooth, cold, and hard enough that you could feel every faint ridge of the joints as he slid them in and out. You reached out, grabbing his arm with one hand and the bed with the other, needing something to hold onto as instinct took over. Your hips rode upwards, back arching as you rocked his fingers in deeper, feeling them in your spine almost. It was better than you could have imagined.

Bucky dropped his head to your chest, spreading his mouth over your breast and his other arm slid over your hips, pinning them to the bed so you were forced to take it. “You wanted this, baby… You take it.” He bit down on the soft flesh of your breast before smoothing his tongue over it again, working an alternative rhythm to his fingers and thumb again, so that your brain couldn’t keep up with which one to follow. It knew only the waves of fire singing through your veins.

Time may have very well dissolved, because you could only feel pleasure, tinged almost with pain.

The thick, hard stroking of fingers as they stretched and wrecked you.

The circling, hard-soft-hard pressure of his thumb on your clit.

The bite of his teeth on your breasts, neck and chest, followed by the wet press of his tongue.

The way he couldn’t help his hips slightly rocking against your leg.

This was almost like a fever dream, expect your brain couldn’t have come up with something this mind melting. Not even if you were really, really worked up.

The noises in the room were absolutely sinful. The unrestrained cries and moans from your lips, Bucky’s groans and his filthy words, the wet pump of his fingers inside you – it was obscene, filthy and completely, painfully mind-blowing.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, Bucky, please-” You had no idea what you were begging for, but every single nerve and muscle in your body was coiling tighter and tighter, your hips jerking against his arm as he pinned you down, forcing you to take this, to feel everything he was doing with no relenting. Tears were beginning to blur your eyes and the pleasure he unleashed upon you was almost painful.

Bucky somehow moved his fingers harder, deeper, the ability of the tech in his arm allowing him to do so, “Let go, baby, come on, let it go for me..” He dropped his head, biting down on your neck and he pressed his fingers against that spot inside you, flicking your clit with his thumb and then it all just snapped.

Waves and waves of hot fire flooded your body, dragging you up to the stars, further. It ripped the air from your lungs, made you half scream his name in a never-ending prayer.

It just didn’t stop.

Bucky kept moving inside you, drawing out every single second of your mind-shattering orgasm, letting go of your hips so you could grind them into his hand. “That’s it, baby… Look at you, so beautiful like that…” His praise spurred you on, making you feel almost like a goddess as you flooded his hand.

He stopped only when you slumped back onto the bed, sucking in deep breaths as you tried to piece yourself back together.

Better than toys indeed.

A little while later, you stirred from a light dose to see Bucky lounging on your couch again, cleaning the grooves and metal of his fingers with a soft cloth.

The sight of him concentrating, taking such care and detail with the clean-up, the cleanup from the mess you had made, had you instantly wet again. “Bucky.”

He looked up, hearing the low thrum to your voice and a smirk crossed his lips.

You had a favour to repay for his helping hand, after all.

#well #that happened #i am not sorry #bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #arm kink

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hercleverboy · 3 years

Text

the waiting room

spencer reid x fem!reader

summary ↠ the three times Y/N waited for spencer, and the one time he waited for her. (based off of this blurb)

category ↠ angst

warnings/includes ↠ mentions of death as a result of potential illness, spencer’s headaches, mri scans, swearing, indefinite ending.

word count ↠ 2.9k

dedicating this one to two of the literal loves of my life, @voidsfilm + @ellesgreenaway ♡

“What is stronger than the human heart, which shatters over and over and still lives.” — Rupi Kaur

Spencer had always hated hospitals.

He found it so conflicting, how a place could hold so much hope for life and promise for the future, and yet also hold so much heartbreak and despair and agony.

The strong disinfectant smell wasn’t his favourite thing, either. He hated how the bright lights always irritated his eyes, and how the hallways all just looked the same, so bleak and lifeless.

Most of all, he hated the waiting room.

The navy-blue carpet that lined the floors, wooden chairs that were always, without fail, extremely uncomfortable to sit in. The way that nurses and doctors would walk past the room, eyes full of pity and sorrow. With his job, he’d seen more waiting rooms than he would’ve liked. He spent more time than he wanted to in hospitals, talking to victims’ families, and even sometimes having to witness them receive such heartbreaking news. On one or two occasions, he’d even had to be the bearer of bad news himself, the one who had to tell expectant family that their loved one was gone. It only added to the list of reasons why he despised hospitals.

Then there was the other side of the coin. He took frequent trips to the hospital, but unfortunately more oftenly as a patient than an FBI agent. He wouldn’t say he was reckless, but he didn’t exactly put much value on his life. Or at least, he never used to. He figured it was because he was the only one on the team without a family to come home to, without people who were dependent on him. And so, if it came down to it, he would willing take off his Kevlar vest and put down his weapon while talking down a gun-wielding unsub. Of course, he’d get the third degree from Hotch later, but he could live with that. And then he met Y/N, and he realised that now he had someone counting on him, someone waiting for him to come back home to them, he couldn’t afford to be so careless in the field.

Though sometimes, despite Spencer’s best attempts, things still went wrong. Y/N had seen the inside of the hospital waiting room more than most, often because she’d get called by one of his team mates to alert her that he’d been injured in the field. And without him ever asking, she’d drop everything to be there for him, even if it was his own stupidity that had landed him in those situations.

The first time was after he’d been shot in the knee. Y/N had been midway through her workday when she’d received a call from JJ telling her that Spencer had been injured. She knew that it was only a leg wound, that he would be absolutely fine, but that didn’t stop her from being worried. She’d been sat in the waiting room, waiting anxiously for a nurse to come by and update her.

As soon as she got the all clear to see him, she’d breathed out a sigh of relief and made her way to his room, catching his attention as soon as she entered.

He gave her a tight-lipped smile, grimacing slightly at the pain shooting through his leg. “Hi.”

She chuckled at that, moving to stand at his bedside. “Hi baby, how are you feeling?”

“I’m ok.” He smiled, reaching up to tightly grasp one of her hands in his. “You didn’t have to come all the way down here, you know.”

“Oh, stop.” She mumbled with a smile. “You know how much I worry about you.”

He grinned at that, the warm feeling that he always got when he was with her spreading through him. He used the grip he had on her hand to pull her down to him, so his lips could meet hers in a sweet kiss. “Hotch has demanded I take some time off to rest, or whatever.” He murmured against her lips. “So, I’m all yours.”

“Hmm, and what you mean by that is that you need someone to take care of you at home for a few days?”

“Well, I did get shot in the leg, you know. Taking down the bad guy...” He gestured to his bandaged-up knee, a pout on his pretty pink lips.

She let out a laugh at that, amused. “Alright, Superman. Let’s get you home, shall we?”

The next time Y/N found herself in the hospital waiting room was a year later, when Spencer had been suffering from painful, unexplainable headaches.

Initially, Spencer hadn’t wanted her to attend his MRI scan appointment, but it didn’t take much convincing for her to assure him that she wanted to be there for him. He’d held her hand in a vice-like grip on the drive to the hospital, only letting go when the nurse called his name to tell him they were ready for him. She’d kissed the back of his hand before he’d left, a whispered promise leaving her lips before he went, “I’ll be right here waiting.”

She looked around the empty waiting room, took note of its greying walls and stained carpet, and how awfully uncomfortable the chairs were. She thought of anything and everything that could distract her from the way she was feeling at that moment- knowing how scared her boyfriend was that there was something was wrong with him.

Spencer came back to the waiting room an hour later, both relieved to see that his girl was indeed still waiting for him but frustrated with what little the doctor had told him.

“Hey!” Y/N sat up straighter, putting on a smile for the sake of her boyfriend. “How’d it go?”

Spencer just shook his head. “He says there’s nothing physically wrong with me. He suggested I should consider that it’s something more mental, but he’s wrong- he’s wrong, Y/N.” He sat down in the chair next to her, seeking comfort in her arms as he whimpered into the crook of her neck. “I’m not- I’m not crazy, am I?”

And the truth was, she didn’t know. She was so afraid for him, worried that he was sick, dying, perhaps of something that the doctors hadn’t detected yet. It terrified her. Her hands ran up and down the expanse of his back, attempting to soothe his weeps the best that she could. Spencer grabbed fistfuls of the back of her shirt and breathed in the scent of her hair as deeply as he could to try and ground himself.

“I’m scared, Y/N.”

That broke her heart to hear, but all she could do was nod in understanding, hoping her words would offer him some form of comfort. “I know, I know. We’ll figure this out, ok? Everything is going to be alright.”

The next time Y/N inside of a waiting room was on what she could only refer to as the worst night of her life.

There were no words that could encompass the plethora of emotions she went through when she’d received a phone call from JJ, “Spencer has been shot. It’s- It’s pretty bad, Y/N. You need to come quickly.”

When she got to the waiting room, she saw JJ and Alex sat opposite one another, a worry that made Y/N’s stomach sink on both their faces. She hurried towards them, tears blurring her vision. “Have you had any updates? Is he ok?”

JJ looked up, shaking her head sadly.

“What happened?” Y/N asked, her voice wavering.

“He got shot in the neck. He pushed me out of the way.” Alex sighed, as though she was still in disbelief that he’d done that to save her.

Y/N stared ahead in shock, dropping down into the seat beside Alex. Of course, of course, Spencer would risk his life to protect Alex. Y/N knew how fond he was of his colleague, how he idolised her, saw her as a sort of mother figure, even.

Eventually JJ got called back to work, with Alex insisting that she’d stay with Y/N and wait for Spencer to wake.

Y/N was so sick and fucking tired of the waiting room. Before, she hadn’t minded it, it had even bought a sense of comfort to her- because she was in a hospital, where they saved lives. But now? The familiar walls and dull navy-blue carpet made her feel nauseous. Not knowing whether her boyfriend was going to live or die was incomparable to any other time she’d found herself waiting in the same four walls. She was feeling everything and nothing all at once, she wanted to cry and scream, curse the universe for once again hurting a man that had done nothing in his life but protect others. Hell, part of her even wanted to laugh- laugh at the absurdity of the situation. If he died, - god, if he died - the world would’ve robbed him of a lifetime with her, the chance to live the life that he deserved.

She barely registered that Alex had left her side to bring her a coffee until she sat back down beside her. Y/N looked over at her, giving her a small smile as she gratefully accepted the coffee.

Y/N brought the cup to her lips, relishing in how the hot liquid brought her a sense of warmth, and she wondered if she’d ever feel Spencer’s warmth again. She sucked in a shaky breath, speaking the first words she’d said in all the hours they’d been waiting. “You know he wants kids?”

Alex looked over at her, sad smile tugging at her lips. “I do.”

Y/N nodded, sniffing. “He’d be a phenomenal father.”

“He would.”

Y/N let out a small cry, trying desperately to hold herself together. “What if I never get the chance to give him that, Alex?” She cried, body finally giving in to the painful ache that consumed her entire being.

Alex placed an arm around her, allowing the younger woman to lean on her shoulder for support. “You’ll get the chance. Spencer is strong, he’ll pull through.”

And sure enough, Alex had been right. When Y/N had been told he was awake, she couldn’t describe the relief that flooded her. After meeting Penelope in the hallway and being given a much-needed hug, she took a few deep breaths before walking into Spencer’s room. When her eyes landed on him, she felt the tears start to well again. She had to remind herself that despite the bandage on his neck and the numerous machines hooked up to him, he was there, and he was alive.

She came towards him with the best smile she could muster, and he looked up at her with a drowsy smile.

“Hi.” She whispered, standing beside his bed.

He grinned up at her, reaching out for her hand just like he always did. “Hi.”

She squeezed his hand gently, reminding herself again that he was ok, though she couldn’t prevent the tears that began to tremble down her cheeks.

Spencer’s heart throbbed at the sight, and he allowed himself to imagine the pain she must’ve been through, having to wait for hours to see if he was alive. He wouldn’t wish that on anyone, especially not the woman he loved more than anything else. “It’s alright, sweet girl. I’m alright.” He promised, wishing more than anything that he could pull her into his arms and soothe her, though the pain in his neck prevented him from doing so.

“I could’ve lost you.” She whimpered, her other hand coming out to delicately trace the side of his face.

“I’m right here.” He gave her hand three squeezes just to emphasise his point.

She leaned forward, pressing a light kiss to his forehead. “You can’t ever scare me like that again.”

Spencer chuckled lowly, nodding. “Yes ma’am.”

“Promise me?”

And though it was a promise they both knew he couldn’t keep, he granted her the reassurance that she craved.

“I promise.”

Y/N knew that wasn’t the last time she’d be sat in the waiting room, scared and anxious and hoping that the love of her life was ok. She knew there would always be a ‘next time’, no matter how many self-serving promises she asked Spencer to make. What she didn’t plan for, was that the next time she saw the inside of a hospital, it would be her fighting for her life.

It had been a slow day at work for Spencer, with him managing to complete a majority of his withstanding paperwork. He sat at his desk, focused on how he twirled his pen between his fingertips, willing the clock to move faster so he could go back home when his phone rang, Y/N’s name flashing across the screen.

He answered eagerly, though all eagerness was wiped away when it wasn’t her voice on the other end of the line.

“Hi there, I’m looking for a Dr Spencer Reid?”

Spencer’s mind raced, and he swallowed thickly before squeaking out an answer. “That’s me.”

“I’m calling on behalf of Y/N Y/L/N, you’re registered as her emergency contact.”

“Is she ok?” He croaked out, begging and pleading internally that all the worst-case scenario’s running through his head wouldn’t come to fruition.

“She was involved in a severe road collision. You’re going to want to come down here-”

Everything past that was drowned out by the sound of Spencer’s heart beating quicker, so loudly he could hear it. He hung up, gathering his things together as quickly as he could and rushing toward the doors of the bullpen- running directly into one Derek Morgan.

“Woah, easy there, kid. You got somewhere to be?” He joked at first, but erased all hints of a smile from his face when he saw the tears filling the younger man’s eyes. “What’s going on? Talk to me.”

Spencer couldn’t form a sentence, only managing to splutter out a few barely strung together words. “It’s Y/N, she’s- she’s been in an a-accident and I need, I have to get to her.”

Morgan’s eyes widened, nodding in understanding. “Alright, ok. You’re in no condition to be driving, let me take you.”

Spencer wasn’t about to argue, already making his way toward the elevator.

Spencer had always hated hospitals.

But he’d also decided that he really fucking hated the waiting room.

The doctors didn’t have any updates for him, no matter how many times he asked. So, he’d been forced to sit in that damned room and wait.

He thought of how cruel the concept of the waiting room was. Waiting for either good or bad news, waiting to hear the words that would either fill him with relief or dread, signify the start of his life or the end. How cruel was it that people had to sit and wait, with the weight of the world on their shoulders and just hope their loved one was ok?

With the first hour brought Spencer’s upset, tears trembling down rosy cheeks and whimpered words of disbelief that he could lose the woman he loved. He’d sat in the uncomfortable blue chair with his head in his hands as sobs wrecked through his body, with Morgan sat next to him, a comforting hand on his shoulder.

The second hour brought with it a slither of hope, as a doctor came out to update them. Though it wasn’t good nor bad news, just that Y/N was still in surgery and was expected to be so for the next few hours. Spencer had again buried his head in his hands, his thoughts racing. The rest of the team arrived, joining the sombre atmosphere of the waiting room.

The third hour saw Spencer grow agitated, angry with himself for not being with her, for not protecting her, despite how many times the team attempted to reassure him that there was nothing he could’ve done differently. They brought him cups of coffee with gentle reassurances, empty promises that Y/N would be fine, that she would pull through, but how could they possibly know that?

In the fourth hour, Spencer sat staring blankly at the wall. He reminded himself of the future he’d dreamt of time and time again, and how he couldn’t imagine himself having that life with anyone else but her. He recalled the location of the velvet purple box he’d bought just a few months prior, hidden amongst pairs of his mismatched socks in the second drawer of his nightstand. What if he never got the chance to propose? To give her the life that he’d promised her time and time again when it was 3am and he was holding the love his life as close to his chest as he could get her. After all he’d done, the years of his life he’d given to helping to protect those who couldn’t protect themselves, this was the thanks he got? What a sick twist of fate that was.

By the fifth hour, he was exhausted. His eyes drooped but he fought to keep them open, choosing to ignore the pitiful looks JJ shot him when she saw him fighting sleep. He would wait for her, just like all the times she had waited for him. He recognised how the way that he felt must’ve been how Y/N had felt after he’d been shot the year before, and the thought almost made him sick. He ran over all the possible outcomes in his head, allowing his eyes to close for a single moment as he mentally calculated the statistical probabilities of each outcome. He despised how helpless he felt. For a man whose job was to help others in need, he’d never been a position before where he didn’t have the answer, where he couldn’t come up with a solution. His heart ached as the realisation that he could very well lose her settled over him, the statistic he’d calculated of her survival being a number that was way too low for Spencer’s liking.

For the moment, he had no choice but to wait.

It was all he could do.

permanent taglist: @beyonces-breastmilk @pinkdiamond1016 @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto @thelovelyrose @averyhotchner @cynbx @calm-and-doctor @reidyoulikeabook @katexrichardson @jemimah-b99 @muffin-cup @shadyladyperfection @rigatonireid @amoeebaa @mggsprettygirl @alltooreid @s1utformgg @awritingtree

spencer reid taglist: @reidtome

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid one shot #spencer x fem!reader #spencer x y/n #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #matthew gray gubler x reader #matthew gray gubler #mgg x reader #mgg #criminal minds

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kieraelieson · 3 years

Text

Three Times Patton Got Lost in a Market

Thomas was walking through the old store with his mom, careful to hold her hand while they shopped.

“Oh, look! There’s a wind chime! It’s just like the nice neighbor lady!” Patton said.

Thomas stopped to look, and his mom stopped too, looking at something else across the aisle.

“It isn’t exactly the same,” Logan said. “Hers has a hummingbird on top, but this one has a butterfly.”

“And anyway, this one has prettier colors when the light hits it,” Roman added.

“Oooh, the red really is pretty, Roman!” Patton said excitedly. “And the purple, and the yellow!”

“It’s exactly the colors of the most beautiful rainbow reflecting back from a pot of gold,” Roman said dreamily.

“Mom!” Virgil suddenly shrieked, alerting them all to the fact that Thomas’s mom was no longer beside them.

Instantly, there was a pandemonium of overlapping voices, all very confusing, and Virgil at the front screaming.

“Quiet!” Patton yelled, as loud as he could, and then felt a little like crying. He didn’t like yelling, but this was important!

“But we have to find Mom!”

“We should run after her!”

“If we yell someone will hear!”

“Listen to me!” Patton yelled again. “Remember what Mom said? If we get lost in the store we stay put, and if we see an employee then we ask them to call mom for us.”

Virgil bit down hard on his sleeves, and Patton took his silence for agreement.

“That is indeed what Thomas was told,” Logan admitted.

“I still think we should go find her!” Roman protested, though less pointedly than before.

Thomas plopped down on the floor.

“Ok. That settles it, we’re waiting for mom,” Patton said. “Let’s look for more pretty things while she comes to get us. Roman, what else can you see around us that looks like a rainbow?”

Roman grumpily crossed his arms. “There’s a rainbow on the lawn decoration.”

“Very good!” Patton said. “Logan, can you see anything that’s science-accurate?”

“Science-accurate is a very vague phrase, but I suppose you could be intending to direct me to the collection of decorative barometers.”

“Oooh~ yes, the water swan neck thingies~” Roman said.

Logan launched into an explanation of barometers, most of which Patton didn’t understand.

He checked on Virgil, who was scanning the aisle they were in over and over again, and chewing holes in his poor sleeves.

“She’ll be here in just a minute, don’t worry,” Patton said gently.

Virgil nodded slightly, but didn’t stop checking the ends of the aisle and staring down each person that passed.

And then his eyes went wide. Patton turned to look.

“Mom!”

“Thomas, I thought I lost you for a minute there! Stay close, ok?”

Thomas took his mother’s hand and nodded.

Patton let out a sigh of relief. They weren’t lost anymore.

••^*^••

Thomas was a bit worried about high school, and especially the test coming up, and Logan and Virgil were mostly helping him with that. But now he had to go to the store for groceries. And Roman was exhausted after being all excited over the play and was sound asleep.

So Patton was helping shop!

He smiled confidently, prompting Thomas to look at the list again. He needed to get the ingredients for tacos, and some bread, milk, eggs, and ice cream. Yum!

Now what all went into tacos?

There was meat, and sour cream, and little shredded lettuce, and cheese, and taco shells, or was he supposed to get soft tortillas?

Patton considered, wandering into the store towards the food. Maybe both? Yeah. Both. Oh! And there was the bread! That would probably have tortillas near it!

Patton hummed happily, finding the bread that looked the same as what mom had been getting, noting the brand name. Nature’s Own. Huh.

Now tortillas… what kind did they normally get?

He finally just picked the one that had blue on the label.

Virgil popped up, startling him for a moment, especially with his intense frown. “People are staring. We’re taking too long near the bread, and your humming is gonna make people think Thomas is weird.”

“Oh, it’s alright!” Patton said cheerfully, glad he hadn’t dropped the tortillas. “I didn’t get in anyone’s way, and they haven’t said anything yet about thinking Thomas is weird.”

“Yeah…” Virgil glared at the people milling around and shopping. “Well they could. Just… keep it quiet.”

“Will do!” Patton grinned, and Virgil sunk back out.

Next he had to find… well, next he had to find the next thing. Should he keep walking and hope to see them, or should he seek each one out? He’d stumbled upon the bread, surely he would stumble across the rest.

Patton hummed happily and kept walking, skipping along beside the cart as Thomas pushed it. Thomas must really be out of it, poor guy. But Patton could help him cheer up!

Pretty soon, they had almost everything! Except for taco seasoning. And Patton wasn’t sure if they were supposed to get the kind that was in packets, or the actual spices. And he also wasn’t sure whether he should look in the spices area or the Mexican food area. Or where those areas were.

Surely they’d passed those special Mexican drinks a while back. But where?

Patton encouraged Thomas to turn around and go back, but after several aisles he still couldn’t find anything he was looking for. He turned back around, and then again.

“Perhaps… I need to go from one end all the way to the other…”

Virgil popped up again, rather grumpy looking, but not as much as earlier. “That’s gonna take too long. We’re already late, and Mom is gonna need Thomas home son so she can make dinner.”

Patton sighed. “Ok. Logan, help please, I’m lost.”

Logan popped up, looked around, and then pointed. “That aisle.”

“But how do you know?” Patton asked.

“There’s a sign above it.”

Patton looked up. “Oh. Yeah.” He chuckled. “I should’ve thought to look for signs. Thanks, Logan!”

“You’re welcome. However I do suggest we attempt to make our trip home expedient. I’ll need Virgil’s full attention and assistance to prepare adequately for the test.”

“Will do!” Patton said, already spurring Thomas towards the aisle.

••^*^••

“I have created the ultimate maze!” Roman said excitedly. “It is called Infinite IKEA!”

Patton clapped excitedly, and even Logan gave a single clap.

“I really don’t see the point—“

“The point is a race, Emo Nightmare, and the winner gets to pick which old reruns Thomas watches tonight.”

Virgil tried to pretend he was still disinterested, but Patton could tell he was excited. “So what would we have to do to win the race?”

Roman grinned. “I’ve hidden a copy of each of our logos in the store somewhere, except for mine, which Logan hid by sinking in and placing it in a random place, so he doesn’t know the layout of the store yet. You have to find your own logo, and then exit the store!”

Oh, so that was why Logan had a bump on his head. He’d probably tried to rise up too close to a shelf. Ouch.

“Everybody ready! Set! Go!”

They all rushed into the store. Patton looked around excitedly, getting more excited to see that the store was full of items that came from houses where Thomas had lived or visited. He ran to the section of beds and flopped onto the biggest one.

He let out a comfy sigh, looking up at the roof which, rather than being metal supports and too-bright lights, was intricately painted with something that glowed.

It was amazing.

“You did a really great job, Roman,” Patton said, even though Roman was probably running ahead to win the race— oh! This was a race!

He jumped up and started walking, looking around for his heart with glasses.

After the bed section, where he wished he could stay and flip onto each one, he wandered into the lamps and chandeliers section. That was beautiful. He was still dazzled and in awe walking out. It even had that massive one Thomas had seen in the one hotel once.

And then came books, where Logan was!

“Hi, Logan!”

“Ah, greetings Patton.” Logan was looking through the books, just as captivated as Patton had been by the beds.

“Find your logo yet?”

“Not yet. I’m not overly concerned with winning, and Roman has certainly made this an interesting place to browse.”

“Mhmm!” Patton looked around. “Where are the kids books, I want to see if the Winnie the Pooh book is still chewed on or if Roman made it brand new.”

“That way, two shelves down,” Logan said, rather distracted by a book he’d picked off of the shelf.

“Thank you!”

Patton found the children’s section, and then found the book. It was still chewed on the corners. He smiled, and flipped through the thick cardboard pages. Thomas had loved this book.

And then, when he opened the last page, his logo fell out.

“Awww, look!” He picked it up, and found that it was a sticker. He promptly stuck the sticker to his chest and put the book back. Now all he had to do was find his way out!

He wandered into the next section, which was all dark and purples and blues and blacks and everything cozily packed together.

There was even a sign warning him away from certain aisles, because there would be spiders, and Patton was very glad Roman had thought of that.

And then he remembered the sunglasses stand sitting at the beginning of the lights aisle. That was probably for Virgil. Roman had been so thoughtful in building this! Patton hoped Roman would win. He certainly deserved the prize after putting all this together.

There was a whole section of Disney, all the movies, and posters, and any Disney themed toys and figurines, and even cardboard cut outs! It was lovely and chaotic and colorful, and it bridged Virgil’s section with Roman’s very well.

Roman had every single picture Thomas had ever seen, which was so many pictures!! Patton looked in awe until he realized that the paintbrushes weren’t just for show, some of them had been used. There was a little black cat in the corner of one painting, and a little V, and the paintbrush was in a cup of black water.

Patton found a picture of a field of flowers, and picked up the paintbrush, dabbing a bit of pink onto the picture. It turned instead into exactly the kind of flower Patton had been envisioning! He smiled wide and painted another, and another, and another, and each one turned out beautiful!

He ran to another painting and gave a little boy in the background a balloon and a smile. And then he gave the lady sitting in a rocking chair a baby to hold.

He finally had to stop himself. He could stay here forever, but he probably should get to the end of the store so he wouldn’t worry the others.

He got to the end of Roman’s section, only to find a massive blanket fort. He kept himself from exploring, and passed through, coming out at… the beds again?

Ohhhhh, right. It was a race and a maze.

Patton flopped down on the bed Thomas had grown up with, wrapping up in the blanket. He let out a happy sigh.

“Logan! Roman! Virgil! I’m lost! But I’m also gonna stay lost!”

Roman rose up and leaned against the footboard, a pleased smile on his face. “Enjoying the store?”

“I’m loving it!” Patton said happily, sitting up. “You did a really good job!”

Roman glowed. “I guess I’ll have to leave it up for you to wander in then. Once Virgil finds the exit I’ll put it somewhere more obvious so you can get out once you’re done.”

“Oh, did you and Logan already get out? Who won?”

“Logan, but only by a few minutes. He hid my logo in a hard place! How was I supposed to guess he’d put it under the makeup stash?”

Patton chuckled. “Wait, I didn’t see that.”

“It’s in Virgil’s section, in one of the spider aisles. I can un-spider it for you if you want.”

“Well, let Virgil have his fun first, but I’d really like that.” Patton smiled. He could have fun in here for a long time. “You did an amazing job with the paintings too! I loved those!”

Roman puffed up happily. “I did, didn’t I?”

There was a distant, triumphant, “Ha! I made it! Wait, Princey beat me? Aww.”

Patton giggled.

Roman patted his shoulder. “Have fun.”

“I will!” Patton said happily, eyeing the blanket fort which he now had time to explore.

—————

If you enjoyed, please reblog! And consider supporting me as I try to make a living off of writing 😊

#my own work #sanders sides #sanders sides spoilers #virgil sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders

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becausethathappens · 3 years

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Will you please write a super angsty fic where Link is freaking out because he thinks the wedding vows he has written aren't good enough and Rhett helps him go over them and make corrections and says they're perfect but also, just says the vows he would say for Link if it was them like it should've been because he's heartbroken and Link can tell but their hands are tied and they don't know what to do so they soldier on without saying a word, but wordlessly communicating lifelong love and misery and everything, maybe comfort as well?

i'm really really sad and i can't shake it off and i really want some good angst and hurt/comfort and i really love you, maura, you're awesome

I don't do unhappy endings, anon. I'm confident you don't either. In fiction or otherwise. So, pardon this if it’s not what you expected.

Please enjoy? This was done a little hastily to share it with you (and I should be writing other things per usual) but I've had a rough week and I want to hopefully make someone smile. (I have way angstier stuff in the drafts and I will be sure to get those out eventually, too.) You’ll feel better soon. 🤞 Thank you! 💞

-———————-

now or forever

4k - Rhett writes Link vows.

If you were my boy, Blue

I’d bathe you in honeys (sp?)

I’d sing write you a love song

I’d shoot you a star**

If you were my boy, Blue

There ain’t nothing in this life I wouldn’t give

From my heart, to my toes, to my fingers, my nose (**)

Whatever it takes just to watch you live

continue to ‘ ’ grow with you like a vine ‘round a rose

If you were my boy, Bue

I wouldn’t want you all for myself

There’s no star bright enough to match your lightin’

In sickness, blue, so certainly while we have health

Hand in hand, no longer fightin’

What’s destiny (**)

You and & me

If you were my boy, Blue

I'd marry you

Thank God for Rhett. Giving him, delivering him, blessing him with Rhett.

Link is in the middle of a spiral (what he’ll later recognize as a panic attack) when Rhett arrives, the eve of his wedding. Bailing him out of this with pen, paper, and a smile.

Link has always been good at improv.

Though Rhett tended to find the words to start. These were his own vows and Link has been putting time to sit and start them off for weeks. Now that he has to, he’s dumbfounded, despite being deeply in love.

Amidst all the planning and chaos, writing his vows was such a given that Link left it as priority sixty-seven on a list of many more.

Unfortunately, even as busy as they’ve been, that list was shredded with the “who gifted what” tracking sheet (both literally, accidentally, and figuratively) back around the bridal shower and it’s been anarchy ever since.

So he thanks God for Rhett, who’s here, to stop another needless disaster from happening.

That same generous God, however, watches him plagued with thoughts of utter devotion at Rhett’s willingness to drop everything on a weeknight and rush over to help Link find his words.

His lyrics, really, is what Link has in mind. Since they used to write songs together and this felt much the same. He’s been floundering all night and now that Rhett’s here, he knows he’ll at least get what he needs done. Even if it’s not all he wants, right now.

That same God seeks judgment on his every decision or flinch against His will, for any reason, to spite him.

For this reason.

He wants to smush Rhett’s face and kiss him. Deeply. He doesn’t.

Even if there were sometime in the past that he could get away with a platonic smooch, now he can’t. He simply could not prevent that from escalating.

So, he merely tightens his grip on the wrinkled scrap paper in his hand and scrunches his eyes.

“Why can’t it be you up there…” Link bemoans, loudly, in his frustration.

Rhett’s eyes widen, in horror, and Link slams his other hand at his mouth, rolling his eyes. “Not like - I mean - why can’t you go say my lines for me. You’re so much better at this kinda thing.”

“Let me read what you’ve got,” Rhett says.

After some review, Rhett sighs, not unkindly and sits down next to Link. “Let’s just talk through what you’re trying to say because, yeah, this reads like liturgy.”

“Ain’t is supposed to? It’s in a chapel!”

“What do you like about her?” Rhett asks, ignoring his nitpicking. “Christy?” Rhett stares at him, waiting, too upset for Link to chastise but clearly wanting to.

“She’s patient,” Link says, reminded by the similar. Rhett folds over the book to an open page and clicks the pen in his hand, writing that down. “A-And she’s kind. Like considerate, ‘specially with babies and little animals. Sh-She does this thing where she immediately drops to their eye-level to make sure they don’t feel unheard or seen. Probably ‘cause she’s always been so tall…”

Rhett’s still writing.

“Then when I’m sick, she forces me to rest. You know I hate that,” Link says, voice rising a little, at the memory. “But you know I need that. You won’t be the last to make me stop and smell the roses or take a break, once in a while.”

“Her hair, write, her hair - the way it looks in the sunshine. Like warm caramel with flecks of gold. She’s a vision, an angel. Especially when she’s wearing all white, like,” Link says, pausing to point to Rhett’s undershirt and pale grey sweats. “Makes blondes look ethereal-like, always has.”

“Oh, and her voice. Sometimes, the way her accent catches, well, you know she don’t like to sing like us, never has, but when she says certain things, asks a question the right way - it’s music. The way it harmonizes with my answer, reminds me of singing, reminds me of us.”

Rhett keeps writing, quiet, and focused.

After a short time, Link can’t stop and wants to crane over to see what he’s come up with. Rhett hands it over after crossing a final “t” somewhere on the page.

“Those’re good, Link, but I think you need to keep closer to what I wrote, leave out the stuff about me.”

“Stuff about you?” Link asks, having spoken in a stream-of-conscious style, Link forgets most of what he even said

Rhett looks away, shakes his head.

Distracted by the desire to read the rest, Link abandons the lingering questions he has about Rhett’s suggestion and response.

“These are great, man, thanks,” Links says, pushing a soft hand into Rhett’s side.

His eyes scan to the bottom where Rhett’s added a few lines about the journey, the marriage, all the ceremonial aspects of the day for him to close with, but then something more.

Something about him.

Rhett catches him catch it and looks further away. “I know Christy pretty well, too, y’know. Y’all are just alike, in that way. She might need some back-up vows, to have and hold.”

Link reads them.

“You know, just in case.”

Link looks up and tries to laugh.

He doesn’t laugh.

He goes back to reading them.

Rhett shifts uncomfortably, touches the back of his neck, and shuts his eyes.

“Rhett, these ’re…”

“I know, bo, you can forget ‘em,” Rhett excuses, still not meeting Link’s gaze. “You want me to… I can rewrite the others on a different - I can turn the page and write ‘em there so you can just…”

“Hey, hey,” Link interrupts him, mad at Rhett putting down his best friend, and eager to explain his actual thoughts. “Rhett, these are perfect. These are… I’m sad I can’t say anything as nice in return to you.”

Rhett finally looks up to acknowledge that and their gaze heats and lingers.

“Not that I…” Link stutters to clarify. “Y-You’d have to be a - if that’s something that was gonna - you know - if that was gonna work…”

His mind does it’s usual jump to a visual for the worst case scenario depicting the implication he stumbled across. Him out eight grand on the wedding. Not to mention a wife, a family, a future, a faith -

a friend -

Link gulps, pushing that back away, pushing them both forward, in his estimation.

It’s too much to bear to think about for another second. When he glances at Rhett, he can’t get a read on his face what he thinks about it, and that’s scary enough for him to want to abandon the concept altogether.

“Christy’s gonna love them.”

It’s enough, saying his fiancée's name, to ground him again. Enough to make it okay for him to grab Rhett’s palm and squeeze it in thanks, between them.

Rhett’s made his choice to give up on film school.

Link’s made his choice to give up on whatever schoolboy obsession he has with monopolizing all of Rhett’s days and nights.

He’ll stick to the days or every other weekend, however they can still fit time together, is fine by him. This ceremony, tomorrow, feels as much about his graduation from friend to husband, and all that that entails.

They’re adults.

They both know there’s a lot of sacrifices to be made and this feels like the first time he’s really acknowledging how hard they’re going to be to make. He hopes they’ll still see each other.

He hopes their kids will get along.

He has a lot of hopes.

All of them involve Rhett.

There’s a lot he should write down for when Rhett finds his own bride to wed.

Link notices, suddenly, that Rhett is crying. The same part of him that's nearly broken the headwind of these conflicting emotions turns back to comfort him.

“Hey, don’t cry,” Link soothes, realizing he’s also still holding Rhett’s hand.

“‘M sorry,” Rhett intones, the words bubble up and out of him simultaneously, sounding like water draining in a filled sink. “And the night before your wedding, good Heavens.”

“Hey, I’ve been crying all week,” Link says, waving a hand at the stress that planning a wedding has kept put on him. “Nothing I haven’t seen in the mirror.”

Rhett laughs, rubbing a thumb over his own thigh in a way that brushes upwards against the place Link’s clasping his hand. Link nearly pulls his hand back, thinking Rhett’s trying to get him to sense his want for space, but when he meets his eye it’s clear he’d like nothing less.

“I think I’m just -” Rhett starts to say, trailing off. The light from the lamp on the far coffee table is the only thing on in the room. Link drops his gaze a few inches to try and see more of Rhett’s downturned eyes as he hems and haws. He squeezes their hands together, again, this time clasping it more firmly, still pressing Rhett’s large palm down from above. “I think I’m just a li’l jealous, is all.”

It’s the quietest admission he’s heard from Rhett since he told him he failed their chemistry mid-term in eleventh grade.

Link is also so lost at the innocence of the admission that he can only think of follow-up questions. “Of me?”

Rhett looks at him for a long, long minute and finally, when Link’s gaze remains confused for the whole length of the pause, he shakes his head, no.

Then he waits.

He waits for Link to realize what he means.

But he’s still waiting when Link, oblivious, moves onward trying to comfort Rhett, instead of understanding him fully.

The tension in the room is palpable as Link talks, but only to Rhett, it seems. Only Rhett pictures air bags being deployed in a car safety video as metal hits cinder block. Only Rhett moves his hand, though it’s all it takes to dislodge them from each other completely.

“I know you’re gonna make an amazing husband some day.” Link is saying.

Rhett’s hand aches where cool air now surrounds it.

“I know your wife is gonna get to hear you say such wonderful things about her.”

Rhett wipes his hand of the misunderstanding on the cotton of his pants.

“I know she’s gonna say the same kind of things about you, when it’s your turn up there.”

Rhett mourns the idea that this would ever be requited.

“I know she’s gonna love you, just as much as I do, so she’ll have plenty to say.”

Rhett looks away, wiping the last of his tears from his eyes.

“I’ll make sure she has plenty of ideas where to start.”

Rhett pats Link’s leg, in camaraderie, and nods.

And that’s it. They shoot the shit, they make a plan to meet up at a donut place for the groomsmen’s breakfast to thank them for their help, before the ceremony, and they’ll talk things through if Link’s feeling jittery still. Then Rhett’s gone.

It’s not until the next day at eleven on the dot (everyone has an agenda to follow and every moment is accounted for) that Link understands Rhett’s pain.

His mother straightens his tie and flattens the edges of his suit. “You’ll wanna know I heard Christy looks like an angel in her dress, from the girls upstairs.”

“Those actual angels you been talkin’ to, Sue?” Rhett jokes, where he’s twisting his cummerbund around every so often, bored.

“Very funny, honey,” Sue ribs back. “From the cousins, Beth and Hailee Sue. Remember they’re friends with the hairstylist you got to do the curls for Christy’s hair, today? She was over last night getting Christy ready for bed with how to wash and dry it a special kind of way. They were there, too.”

Link starts to tune her out, since there’s a lot on his mind, but then she says more.

“She says the hairstylist was talking about how jealous she was of Christy, all night, getting to marry you,” Sue relays.

“Oh, mama, please,” Link dismisses. The compliments he’s been getting have felt faker than the toupee on his uncle Bruce. That girl has never even met him. “I’m the only person here people should be jealous of, who would be jealous of Christy,” he says, trailing off, muttering his reasoning as he did. “Marrying a trainwreck like me.”

Link looks up in the mirror where some of his friends continue to mingle in various states of undress. Rhett is already dressed, however, and staring straight at Link like he’s been caught with a hand in a cookie jar.

Link’s about to ask what’s wrong when he remembers his words. Then looks again over the planes of Rhett’s face.

Last night’s words slam back into his mind and Link’s mouth drops open.

The church organ belts out an opening flurry of notes before Canon in D begins playing loudly through the sound system built into the rafters above them. Link looks up to see one of the church staff at the door instructing them to join the bridal party to line-up.

Link’s mom dashes off to where she’s paired with her nephew, Link’s favorite cousin, to be escorted down the aisle.

Rhett sees Link’s face rushing through a wash of emotions from a distance, he nods to the staffer in silent understanding that he’ll handle it, and then they’re alone.

He walks up to Link and takes his hand. He squeezes it.

“Hey, you gotta go. We gotta go. It’s showtime,” Rhett insists.

Link looks around like a bomb went off, since in some ways it did, and he doesn’t know what to do.

Rhett seems to pick up on that. He squeezes Link’s hand again.

“I’ll get over it, Link, it’s okay,” Rhett whispers, on the verge of desperation.

That confirmation is enough to fully shatter Link.

Only for a moment.

The music continues and Rhett keeps his hand hold.

They are adults. They are in love. They have to marry.

None of these things can be helped.

“I’m gonna be so jealous of Her, too,” Link whispers back. He squeezes Rhett’s hand one last time, as they part.

They leave.

They walk straight.

They part again.

Until later.

They move houses and cities and states.

They move mountains, inside and out.

They move together.

Much later.

They join again.

They run crooked.

They return.

To one another.

Link has spent years worrying a ring that means too much to too few people.

In the beginning, when he cries himself to sleep at what he thinks has been the mistake of a lifetime, it’s His talisman. It reminds him of the expectations upon this life he’s made.

As the years pass, however, the adherence to the bogeymen of their childhood’s rules wears thin. It starts to strictly represent love and patience.

Sacrifice.

It begins to feel like a burden. A representation of what’s been lost, not what’s been found.

He contemplates taking it off, but believes that to be a betrayal of all that it stands for to the people he stands for.

Then, one day, (surely mid-spin) he hears Rhett tell a story about wanting to change his ring.

He watches the silver twirl as Rhett explains.

He believes he was rushed into a certain type of marriage and a certain type of life by a certain type of person.

It’s a life that he’s grown to love but the ring represents a union forced by custom and not one that’s grown through devotion.

His ring reminds him of that too often to be good for him.

Link twists his again at the admission.

So, Rhett’s thinking about replacing the ring.

Link returns home that night in a stupor. He’s sure he said one too many things to Rhett to emphasize how wild it felt to hear him talk about changing rings.

Any memories of that day, their wedding, bring up a rush of emotions that he’s never been good at sorting through.

Today’s admission makes him feel the same spur to make use of idle, betrothed hands he feels when he cleans the fridge.

He wants to clean the slate.

He finds an old DVD copy of their wedding ceremony that he paid to have converted from miniDV some years ago. Now he struggles to find a place to watch that DVD. How quickly time has flown by.

Eventually, he ends up in his son’s room - no one’s home for the remainder of the night but he and Christy - now, he’s sitting on a bean bag, squinting at the game console’s controller trying to get the joysticks to move to “play” on screen.

The ceremony bursts to life and, like it was yesterday, Link’s nerves fizzle awake.

About halfway through the video, Christy finds him like that and sits down next to him in a thwump absorbed mostly by the stuffing of the chair.

They watch themselves smile happily at each other and Christy takes his hand.

“Should I be happy or scared to find you alone watching this on a Saturday night?” she asks, wryly, squeezing his palm.

Link doesn’t know what to say. He’s caught up in Rhett’s bygone script being spoken on screen. Words about Christy and about Link that were not their own, declared loudly in front of the congregation.

“I don’t know,” Link admits, shrugging. He doesn’t. He squeezes her hand back.

“You wanna tell me what’s eating you?”

Link hesitates, but relents. He wants that clean slate, after all. “Rhett’s getting his wedding ring replaced.”

“Replaced?” Christy asks, balking.

“Replaced, yeah,” Link responds, sure he didn’t misspeak.

“With what?” she asks.

“Oh, some new one. Fancy thing, very cool, made of trees or something. Honestly he wears the other one, the slick black one more than his wedding band half the time. He says it feels like the old one? It’s the kind of ring you get in a bauble at a vending machine crank. So, he wants a new one.”

“Jeesh,” Christy says, making a face at the screen. The camera catches Rhett stealing glances at the couple, then at the crowd, beaming at all with unbridled pride.

“Wouldn’t you be mad if I did that?” Link inquires, still baffled at the idea.

“Well, no, but don’t you love your ring? Heirloom and all that,” she says.

Link cringes. “Yeah, yeah. Honestly, I do.”

“So?”

“So, I still kind of want to and I’m not sure what that means.”

They watch the screen together.

“Do you wanna stay married?” she asks, in a small voice.

“Yes,” he breathes out.

There’s a long pause.

“To me?” she asks, her voice even smaller.

“Yes,” he breathes in.

She squeezes his hand, her confidence built back up. She begs him to join her.

“And him?” Christy whispers.

They both look the screen, the lens centered on the two of them, but their gaze is mutually torn to where Rhett stands wiping a tear from his eye at Christy reciting the last of the vows that he wrote her. Wrote him. Wrote them both.

She squeezes his hand again.

“Yes,” he breathes out.

She leans her head on his shoulder.

“You should probably get another ring, then,” she jests. “We shouldn’t have to share everything.”

The slate is clean.

There’s a lot he wants to say to Rhett about it, but just as before, he’s relied on Rhett to give him the right words to say. So, instead of words, he starts wearing Rhett’s ring.

Then, a new one, when he realizes he can match him separate from the other, all told. Have something of Rhett’s, all to himself.

In his unspoken push towards something more, their hands now match along with their steps, as they walk forward.

On the last week in July, they get ice cream at the fifth place that month to mistake them for husbands, but the first one he hears Link crow an affirmative in response.

Rhett waits for him while he triple-tips the cashier (for the guess) and pays for their cones.

“Bad joke,” Rhett says, softly, but firm.

“Who’s kidding?” Link parries back, a smirk dancing it’s way across his lips.

Rhett watches him with a wistful look of disbelief.

“Link, we’re married,” Rhett warns him.

Link shrugs. “I know. I’m just waiting for you to figure that out and minding my ice cream here, all right?”

He’s got a mouthful of vanilla bean and extra cookie crumble, the next second, so his vow ends there.

Later, at home, Rhett startles Jessie awake when he fully realizes Link’s words.

He shakes her awake. He shakes them both awake.

“I’m in love with Link,” he says, like it’s a confession.

She kisses him because so is she. So are most people.

“What’s wrong?” she asks.

Rhett repeats himself.

So does she.

They stare at each other under the cover of silk and moonlight.

“We’re married,” Rhett whispers, touching his hand to hers. Their rings clink, new and shiny.

“Yeah, and so are we,” she whispers back.

They fall asleep smiling.

The next day, Rhett sneaks up behind Link while he’s working and causes him to spill his cup of coffee. He gets the stink eye for only a minute because it’s the same length of time he can stand Link’s grumpy mug before he has to swoop down and kiss him on the lips.

“You figured it out,” Link says, grinning.

“I did,” Rhett chirps as he kisses Link more.

They take a car to their house. It’s filled with their love and the history of it; before, during, and after.

“What’s this?” Link asks, dazed in their post-sex glow, naked and alive.

He spots an old chord book of theirs from last time they wrote music.

“Oh,” Rhett says, bashful. “I came looking for you here this morning, hoping you slept over again, but, uh,” Rhett stalls, looks away and tries to take the songbook from Link’s hand. Link pulls it far enough he can’t reach. “You were already at the job.”

“And?” Link asks, using his spry, sinewy body as an advantage to slink away from the bed out of Rhett’s grip. He still has the book in hand.

“Those are your vows,” Rhett explains.

Link looks down and squints, confused. These aren’t the vows that Christy read at their wedding. He’s seen that video only a few months back and is sure of it.

“Our vows,” Rhett whispers, explaining further, at Link’s puzzled look.

“It’s a love song,” Link notes, marveling at the gesture. What it means to a young version of himself that once felt like they had surely cut out and mourned the possibility of this - all of this - ever happening. To have that thought coexist with the image of a nude, hulking tree trunk of a husband laid before him smiling up adoringly felt panoptic.

“So are you.”

Link begins to cry.

“Play it for me.”

Rhett wipes his cheek.

“Get my guitar.”

They sing twice more that night, always in harmony (not always in lyric), then spend the rest of their lives together doing much the same.

#things i wrote #@anon #i hope you are doing well soon #💙#rhink

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idyllicbunny · 3 years

Text

Hide and Seek | Chapter One | G.W

"Mr Weasley, care to share what is so intriguing that you can't be bothered to listen to what might be on your N.E.W.T.S?" Snape snapped irritatedly.

George shot the professor a wink before leaning back into his chair.

"Professor I apologise but I can't help it if you're rather large snout-"

"George" Elirah hissed smacking his arm. "Don't even think of finishing that sentence!" She turned to the seething professor.

"Sir, please accept my apology on behalf of George. He doesn't know what he was saying if we could just go back to going over the spec content-"

"Lirah please it's not my fault his snozzer is big that its a distraction to my learning. I should really speak to Dumbledore about it." Elirah winced as Snape abruptly stood.

"Get out my classroom.. NOW" George shot her a wink before walking out the classroom.

Elirah turned to Fred who sat there holding back his laughter. She scowled at him throwing her quill at him.

"It's not funny!" He chuckles before sliding into the seat that George just vacated.

"It kinda is didn't think the he had it in him." Elirah raises her eyebrow at him as he waited for Snape to continue with the lesson before turning back to her.

"He's never been sent out before. So we made a list of all the things we have yet to do in Hogwarts before we leave." He smiled proudly.

"You dimwitted, good for nothing idiots!" Elirah whisper shouted. Fred's eyes widened as she reached for the potions book and began hitting him with it repeatedly.

"Ouch Lirah stop it oww Elirah!" Fred cried. She threw the book onto the desk before crossing her arms glaring at the flushed boy.

"If you can't take me simply patting you with a book what do you think your mum's going to do when she receives an owl from Snape about today!"

Fred felt the blood drain from his face at the mention of his mum.

"Oh shit!"

"Yeah exactly George is going to be slaughtered because you airheads didn't think this through!."

"It still baffles me how you irritable brats were able to befriend Miss Amare!"

Elirah and Fred jumped as Snape leaned down from behind them looking over their parchment.

"Merlin I think I just had a heart attack" Fred said clutching his chest.

"Didn't feel good did it Fredrick maybe keep that in mind when you and your other half decide to go on your childish rampages with Peeves." Snape grumbles before shooting Elirah a small smile.

"Keep up the good work Miss Amare!" Fred gapes as he walks off.

"I still don't understand how you are his favourite student"

Elirah grins at him pinching his cheeks.

"Is someone jealous?" He pouts leaning into her touch.

“Stop bragging" she shakes her head gathering her things making her way out.

"Come on let's see where your not so better half has wandered off to."

They make their way out with Lee and Angelina.

"So what was that all about?" Angelina asked smiling as she linked her arm with Elirah's.

She rolls her eyes explaining the situation to which Angelina shook her head.

"Why am I not surprised?"

"Hey in our defence we literally thought of this before we went to sleep okay!" Fred said linking his arm into Angie's.

"Well I'm not going to just walk alone." Lee mumbled wrapping his arm around yours.

You all laughed making your way to the Gryffindor common room.

"Finally I was wondering when you'd show up!" George grunted he was draped on the arm chair next the fire.

"We're not that bad a company. In fact wasn't it you who interrupted our study group to complain about and I quote 'Snape's abnormally large snout'?" Calliope joked throwing a chocolate frog at him.

"Yeah what Pea said" Aramis smirked throwing his sugar quills.

"Actually it was more like him coming in and dramatically throwing himself onto the sofa like those muggles do in films. But unlike them George never stopped complaining" Millicent added.

"You're all wankers you know that!" George sulked. Everyone laughed as he pouted turning around so his back was facing everyone. Elirah laughs walking over to him. She perched on to the sofa poking his side.

"George ..."

*Silence*

"George Weasley"

*Silence*

"Georgie?" Elirah says softly. George audibly groaned knowing he was a sucker for when she called him that. Of course he daren't tell anyone because they would tease the shit out of him.

'Come on George ignore it it's only a name for Merlin sakes get a grip-'

"Georgie?" she repeats wrapping her arms around him her hands finding his hair.

'Well fuck I'm a goner' he thought as she stroked his silky strands. Sighing he sighed turning so his nose brushed hers.

"Yes Lirah?"

She grinned clutching his face.

'That fucking smile'

"Come on we're all friends here. You know they were joking and you have a match tomorrow can't have our best beater all moody now can we?"

"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that Lirah!" Fred chimed.

"Fine okay I'm happy!" He shot her a sickly smile "See all smiles."

Satisfied Elirah turned around to get up only for George to pull her into his chest. She rolled her eyes used to his behaviour.

"How the fuck does she not see it!" Lee sighed wedging himself between Angelina and Fred.

"Your guess is as good as ours" Angie replied.

"So what's your plan for tomorrow?" Aramis questioned popping a sugar quill into his mouth.

"We're going to thrash them slimy gits what else is there to say no offence Mills?" Fred retorted.

"Non taken" the Slytherin smiled before turning back to her book.

"You best do ever since that Malfoy has been seeker they think they're Merlin's gift" Raine grumbled.

"Don't worry we'll knock em down a few notches" George winked.

"Ow what was that for Angie!?" George whined throwing the chocolate frog back at her.

"Absolutely not! I want a clean game tomorrow. I'm sick of this stupid rivalry shit. All it does is get us in trouble I can't have either of you being banned or I'll have no beaters for the rest of the year. For some reason ever since Oliver left everyone thinks no one can fill his place." Angelina said crossing her arms.

"Fine but I swear if they pull what they did last time-"

"Let's not think that shall we? Don't manifest negative thoughts and it won't happen" Elirah cut tracing the veins along George's arm.

“You're such a bloody Ravenclaw sometimes Lirah it's painful!" Aramis teased.

"Hey what's wrong with what she said" Calliope and Raine said in unison.

"Oh here we go." Lee sighed.

——————————————-

The next chapter ... yall aren't ready for.

Here's a sneak peak

Credit to @_neptuness_ (Instagram acc) @y_eojinkiss (tiktok acc) for this masterpiece!

#george weasley x oc #george weasley angst #george weasley fluff #george weasley smut #george weasley #fred weasley smut #weasley twins #harry potter smut #harry potter au #george weasley x reader

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boxofbadaddiction · 4 years

Text

Careless

Fred Weasley x Reader

This story is inspired from a request of my F.R.I.E.N.D.S Themed Prompt List.

Prompts: 13, 19 & 23

"I'm so happy and not at all jealous."/"We had a deep and meaningful relationship/What was their last name?"/"I thought it mattered what I said or when I said it. Then I realised, all that matters is that you make me happier than I ever thought I could be."

Warnings: Swearing. War Scene - blood & injury. Angsty.

Y/n was trouble with a capital T. She was daring, confident, snarky and a massive Quidditch fan. In other words; she were Fred Weasleys perfect woman.

But it's not what you think, they were just friends. Chaotic, hell raising, perfect-for-each-other friends.

With the Twins and y/n around Hogwarts it were remarkable the Castle were still standing. But not for their lack of trying. After an especially careless prank, which left the Gryffindor Common Room with a new window, it's safe to say the threesome were there for one another through thick and thin.

Pranks however, weren't the only area in which Y/n, and Fred for that matter, were careless.

Both had the tendency to be rather frivolous in romantic relationships. It seemed like every other week the pair had a new partner on their arm. George liked to joke that, of all the people left in their age group, the only people they hadn't 'had a round' with were each other. The rumours, jokes or insults to character never bothered them though. They were young and weren't looking for anything serious - so what's the harm in having a little fun? That was y/ns reasoning anyway. It had been Freds as well...in the beginning. Until he were struck with a rather bracing realisation.

The reason why he rushed so fast into new relationships without a care wasn't so much 'for the fun of it' or genuine interest in the other, but denial. He were running and burying his head in the sand, or rather the bedsheets - as it were, to distract himself from the very chilling reality that he was desperately, hopelessly and unequivocally in love with his best friend. With y/n.

So after that particularly bitter pill to swallow, Fred's relations became a means to an end. A means of getting over her. Of finding someone to replace her.

It never worked, of course, because no other girl was her. No one made him laugh or smile like her. Nor did anyone get his heart racing like she did.

He did everything he could to bury his feelings; under piles of work, copious amounts of alcohol and an abundance of meaningless sex, and it genuinely seemed to be working...until the War came.

That walk into the Great Hall after the initial Battle is one Fred would never forget.

The smell; of death and destruction. The way his body ached and longed to rest.

Slowly limping through the destroyed arched doorway, accompanied by Percy - who's shoulders he'd drapped an arm across seeking support. They were talking with one another, throwing around light-hearted brotherly insults here and there, which helped keep Freds mind off the immense pain surging through his leg at the time, small smiles adorning their faces.

That's when they heard it.

A blood curdling scream. One of pure agony.

Their eyes shot directly to the source, on the far side of the room - where all the Weasleys were gathered around a body. A girls.

Arthur was holding tight onto Molly as she sobbed uncontrollably. Ron stood on the outskirts pale and afraid, while Bill and Charlie had a hold of Ginny in attempt to shield her. Fred's gaze flickered to where he saw George had knelt beside the body.

He was gripping one of her hands as his other tried desperately to keep her still on the floor while she writhed and cried out in pain.

She were covered in blood as Madam Pomfrey worked frantically to mend the severe wounds in her abdomen, where shards of debris protruded from her flesh.

The cry had been caused from the extraction of a particularly large shard, of what Fred didn't know.

George was running a tender hand over y/ns head, gently stroking her hair and the sides of her face as he whispered soothing sounds and comforting words in her ear.

Fred didn't know how long he'd stood there, staring in shock, he'd felt petrified - numb to everything but the fear coursing through his veins. Till suddenly his feet were moving.

A first painful step, which nearly crippled him, was followed by an equally sore but determined second. Then a third, and before he knew it he was running. Sprinting as fast as he could regardless of the pain it inflicted, nothing could stop him from reaching her side.

Barging past friends and family members he collapsed on Georges otherside. Eyes raking the ever paling and blood covered woman laid before him. George was shaking as he looked to his brother with tear-filled eyes but Freds stare was unwavering.

Somehow mustering the strength he spoke the only words playing through his mind, "What can I do?" His eyes never left y/ns wound, above which Pomfreys hands hovered as she worked.

"Fred?" Y/n cried through deep breaths, her head turning to the side in an attempt to see him. "I'm here, Sweetheart." He placed a hand to her knee. Her eyes were screwed tight shut as she threw her head back against the hard, cold floor. Tears parted tracks through the thick dust and muck plastered to her cheeks as she clenched her jaw inhaling sharply as the next piece of debris was removed - a relatively small piece in comparison to the earlier one. George continued to soothe his friend as Pomfrey instructed Fred on what to do.

They wished everything had gotten better from there. That after they successfully removed all the debris and stopped the blood from further pouring from her body that she'd been able to recover simply. But news only seemed to get worse once they reached St Mungo's.

She'd fallen into a coma. Y/n had suffered severe internal injuries and the Healers never held out much hope that she'd survive.

Y/n always was full of surprises.

She'd come out of her coma and began showing signs she could yet make a recovery. No one could have possibly anticipated the day healers would begin talk of rehab. They considered it a miracle she were even breathing.

Naturally the Twins were there every step of the way. Especially Fred. There were whole nights, even before she'd regained consciousness, where he'd spend every minute by her bedside. Nights he'd spend working tirelessly in the shops office to perfect ideas they'd concocted to help ease and enhance y/ns physical therapy. Inventions that worked so well Healers from all over were lining up to get their hands on, after seeing how successful y/ns recovery were as a direct result of their products. Hell, most days you couldn't even tell she'd been through a war - her scars the only physical reminder, to the untrained eye.

There were no doubt left in Freds body after that. He loved her with every part of his soul and that was never going to change, and so his involvement in the dating scene became virtually non-existent.

Y/ns on the other hand...well some things don’t change.

She was given a second chance and wasn't about to waste it worrying about what 'could' have happened. Life were too short for that. She did, however, start keeping an eye out for 'Mr/Mrs Right' during her rendezvous'.

Fred tried his hardest to be supportive. Opting rather to love her from the sidelines than risk hurting their relationship by getting his hands dirty and playing the game. After Y/ns most recent conquest however his happy facade may officially be waning.

It was just past sunset in Diagon Alley and so Weasleys Wizard Wheezes, much like all the other stores, were going through their nightly closing routine.

Fred was working through the registers whilst, much to his dismay, George were left to the Twins least favourite chore - cleaning and restocking the store.

That's when the front door burst open.

"Evening, Boys!" Y/n announced happily as she strode into the store. "Fred! I told you to lock the door, lest the riff-raff barge in!" George called jokingly over the railing of the second floor. Fred couldn't help but smile, not looking up from the task at hand "My mistake!". Y/n scowled up at George as she hopped onto the front desk, "Like that could keep me out." Leaning over the counter top she placed a kiss to Freds cheek, "Heya Freddie". He looked to her, instantly finding himself on cloud nine, and leant casually onto the counter to speak with her. "Hey, Lovely. How was your day?" "Oh, I am so glad you asked!" Y/n said beaming as she clapped her palms against her knees, kicking one leg atop the other. "It was fantastic!" "Do tell." George spoke, decending the stair case, "What's 'fantastic's name?" He goaded.

Y/n glared at him playfully, "Think you have me all worked out do you?" "You know we do." Fred interjects. "Can read you like a book, Darling. You've got not secrets from us"

"Especially after our little incident during rehab, when I had to help you in the shower." George added with a teasing brow, this causing y/n to scrunch her nose. "Okay, George, that's talking about it when we agreed never to talk about it!" The Twins laughed at her embarrassed expression. "Anyway, 'fantastic's name is Mason."

Fred swallowed thickly at the news of, yet another, romantic partner but still he suppressed his distaste as he normally would.

The next 30 minutes or so were spent listening to y/ns retelling of how she met, Mason. About how great they made her feel. Fred couldn't help but envy the way the mere thought of them had y/n biting her lip in attempt to suppress a giddy smile. He'd give anything for her to look that way while thinking about him.

Fred had been quiet through most of the conversation, untrusting of his own voice not to give away his utter disdain at the news. Still he smiled when he should and convincingly feigned interested as she spoke. It wasn't until she began talking about her date, tonight, with them that he finally spared himself the heartache and stopped listening.

Later that evening, Fred was trying hard to keep himself occupied with thoughts on anything but the date the love of his life currently found herself on. As George and he just finished their own meal he'd taken to determinately cleaning the dishes piled within their sink - whilst George dried, a small habit the two fell into thanks to years of Molly putting the pair on dish duty after meals.

Unknowingly to Fred, he'd been uncharacteristically quiet for the whole evening. Something his brother had not failed to notice. "So..." he began breaking the long running silence of the night, "y/n seems pretty bent on this new bloke doesn't she?" "Mmm" "Never know this one may even last" George let out a breathy laugh as he prodded Fred's shoulder with his elbow, watching carefully for his reaction.

George wasn't stupid. He knew exactly how Fred felt, well before the night of the battle.

Fred's eyebrows quirked, lips parting as he clicked his jaw, visibly unsettled by his Twins topic of discussion.

"You okay, Freddie?" "Yeah. No, they sound great. Absolutely perfect. He's bloody 'Mr Fantastic'" His voice was laced with attitude and sarcasm as he spoke.

Finishing washing the final glass Fred throws the dish sponge against the back wall of the sink harder than intended in his frustration. "Easy there mate, get you're not happy but don't take your jealousy out on the poor bloody sponge" George picks it up from where it'd landed, mockingly shielding it from his brother with an overly concerned expression. "What are you on about?" Fred sneered defensively, "I'm so happy and not at all jealous."

"Sure you are" George replied with a look which read 'really?' "Yeah no, I get it. I'd be fine too if the girl I fancied was out on a date with some other bloke." He shrugged nonchalantly as he walked back to the living room, lounging comfortably across their sofa.

Fred looked to his brother as if he'd grown another head. "Don't give me that look. We both know I know." George rolled his eyes. "Well then tell me, oh wise and all-knowing Brother" Fred bowed mockingly, "what would you do in my situation?" He walked over with an expectant brow, perching himself of the sofas opposite arm rest.

"Oh, I dunno...maybe confess to the poor girl." "You say that like it's the simplest thing in the world." "It is, Freddie." "No. No it's not, whatever this is it's not simple." "It won't get any easier if you don't try. Here look I'll help you" George sat up eagerly, leaning against the back of the couch. "You be you, I'll be- don't give me that look. I'll be y/n. Tell me what you'd say to her." "This is stupid" Fred rolled his eyes. "Don't be a prat, just...go. I won't judge." "Right, cause that sounds like you." "Fred-" George warned. "Fiiiine!" He groaned which only caused his brother to smile cockily, satisfied he finally got what he wants.

Fred looked at his brother who flicked his hair and batted his eyelashes dramatically. There's no way he can do this looking at him. Rolling his eyes again he looked away with a scoff, contemplating all the things he'd say to y/n if he had the courage to.

"Well?..." "I don't know. I don't know what'd I'd say to her or where to start, I've never thought about it." "Maybe it's time you start thinking about it Freddie." George clapped him on the leg as he stood from his place on the couch.

He were half way to his bedroom before stopping, having just faintly heard the words whispered after him...

"I love her, Georgie." George smiles sadly to himself, only just turning his head he murmurs a reply. "Tell her that."

---

The store was closed for the day and Fred had choose to have a rather uneventful night in, and so he sat on the end of the sofa reading the paper hoping for product inspiration to strike. George on the other hand were getting ready to go out for the night when came a rhythmic knock on the flat door. No need to ask who it were as they let themselves in, per usual.

"Hello, Boys" y/n bounded into the apartment, flopping casually onto their couch with her head in Freds lap.

He lifted the paper into one hand to better see her smiling face looking cheekily back up at him. His own fond and loving smile shown back. "Hey, Freddie" "Hey, Gorgeous." "HELLO, GEORGE?" She shouted listening intently for his response, "YEAH YEAH, Hello freeloader!" He yells back causing her smile to grow.

"You seem awfully happy, have a good day?" Fred asks as he begins to softly run his hands through y/ns hair out of a developed habit from all their late nights at Hogwarts. "Yeah it was good, just went out with Mason. We had a nice time but I'm just happy to be here with you losers." "Losers? How flattering" George calls from his bedroom. "Oh" at the mention of y/ns partner, Fred puts an end to his hands actions. Turning his attention pointedly back to the paper he'd been reading previously. "And how is 'Mr Fantastic'?" He sneers. "Yeah great...I think. I don't know, he sorta got carried away talking about work. Barely got a word in myself." Y/n chuckles fakely. Sensing her pent up reservations Fred can't help but resume his earlier actions, stroking her hair, but still his eyes stay on the page in front of him. Even if he can't seem to read a single word - too focused on the warmth y/ns body provides pressed against his. Wishing this were how he could spend every night, wrapped up on the couch with her in his arms.

"Alright, children!" George emerges from his bedroom, "I'm off. Don't destroy the place while I'm gone." "Oh that's right!" Y/n sits up excitedly to peer over the back of the sofa. "Tonights the big date" she rests her chin atop her arms as they fold over the backrest looking to George as he collects his wallet and keys. "That's right, Dearest." He ruffles her hair as he strides past to the door, "You're not the only one around here who goes out." He winks before leaving, a quick 'behave!' Called over his shoulder.

Y/n lays back down across Freds lap with a warm smile on her lips. "So...what do you wanna do tonight?"

---

Fred was quietly thankful for George being out of the apartment for the night, the quality time spent with y/n were more than he could possibly ask for. It felt like being back in school, when they'd sneak to the Lake or Astronomy tower past curfew.

They were currently sat on the lounge room floor; a bottle of firewiskey and several stolen sweets from George's stash, scattered in front of them.

"I can't believe you just called me a slag!" Fred shouts as y/n laughed loudly. "W-well it's true." She shrugged, speaking through poorly restrained giggles. "Need I remind you of your time spent with Alice?" "Hey! We had a deep, and meaningful relationship." "Oh yeah?" "Yeah!" "What was her last name?" Freds mouth opened in retort before swiftly closing. Eyes blankly scanning the room in search of the answer before realising he didn't have one. He nodded and shrugged in acknowledgement. "Point taken. Not that you're one to judge" he chuckled, taking a swig from the bottle of whiskey before offering it to her. "Also true." Y/n accepted.

"When was the last time you waited until the third date?" "Honestly?" "No. Lie to me." Y/n rolled her eyes at his question. "Katie Bell." "Noooo...in 6th year?" "Yeah. Go on then, when was the last time you didn't just give it up?" "What, 'Honestly'?" "No. Lie to me." Fred threw an every flavour bean at her for the mockery. "Okay...Mr Fantastic." "Noooo..." "yeah." "I don't believe you." "What!? Why?" "Because you're whipped by the bloke! Surprised he even made it to a first date- OW! Hey, chocolate frogs are NOT for throwing!"

Neither were sure how this odd game of confessions began, perhaps somewhere around the half way mark on their bottle of Whiskey, but the embarrassing dirty little secrets they'd begun to reveal to one another had them both in hysterics as a result.

"So, why not?" "I dunno he just...hasn't got me feeling that way, ya know? Like, he's great, and we have a good time together - I guess. But it's not like this" she guestured between herself and Fred, who was listening intently. "I can't seem to relax and just be myself around him. He doesn't get me laughing till it hurts. Or make me feel safe and comfortable." Fred's lips parted slightly at her words, eyes dancing hopefully back and forth between hers which seemed to hold the same emotion his did in that moment. Was it possible she felt the same way?

"Or ya know, something less sappy." She chuckled, taking a drink from the Whiskey bottle and turning away from him. Whatever moment he'd felt was gone, and reality set in with the familiar bitter pill settling in his mouth which he refused to swallow.

He shook his head, trying to rid himself of the disappointment that began to creep in. Over her comparison, in wanting someone like him, but in the end, not him. Never him. A sharp breath left him before speaking, "Yeah, well, I ah- I have work in the morning so I'd best call it a night." He avoided eye contact as he stood from his spot on the floor, all joints painfully stiff from the lack of movement.

Y/n was shocked by his abrupt change in attitude. He were no longer smiling, and there was an edge to his voice which wasn't there moments ago.

"Woah, wait...what just happened here? I thought we were having a good time." "We were" y/n stood, taking a tentative step towards him "So, what changed?" "Nothing"

"Fred? Come on, sit back down...please?" She grabbed one of his hands holding it close to her chest as she pouted at him. For a second Fred caught himself smiling at her antics. But only for a second. He shook his head, pulling his hand back from hers and stressfully running it through his hair.

"I can't, love." "Can't what?" Her brows furrowed in confusion. "I just can't sit there and listen to you talk about us; me and him." He snapped looking away from her. "Why? What's that have t-"

"Because I'm fucking in love with you!" Fred shouted, turning back to y/n in anger. "I'm in love with you and sitting there listening to you talk about how I make you feel safe - and how you wish it were him - it's ripping my fucking heart out y/n! But I'm stuck. Because I can't move on but I can't have you. So I just sit here like an idiot, watching you jump from one relationship to another, waiting- hoping that you'll care. I keep hanging onto moments - like right there - thinking there may be the slightest chance you might feel the same way. But you don't. And I can't do it anymore...so don't ask me to."

"Fred-" "I think you should go." "No, Fred I-" "Please! Go."

Y/n stood in place, staring in shock as her body seemed reluctant to move. She were petrified - numb to everything, but the fear swimming within her blood. What would happen if she walked out that door. Would he ever let her back in, or was this it? What if she leaves and loses him forever - and he never knew...

She drew a shaking breath that seemed to give a modicum of control back over her body. Her eyes flickered over the expanse of the boys flat. It were always so cheerful and warm - so why did she feel so cold? Her body trembled as her feet began to move, each step more painful than the last.

As she opened the door every nerve screamed for her to turn back around. Her head turned to the side, mouth falling dry and lips parting to speak though no words came. But the tears did. Rolling sadly down her cheeks as the door sealed shut behind her.

She was gone.

Fred fell to the couch. Any strength that were holding him from the ground disappearing as she did. Slouched over his knees, elbows digging into his thighs whilst he ran his hands through his hair.

He let out a heavy breath, a small relief spreading in his chest from the weight that'd been lifted. But mostly all that came was pain and tears from the heartache he'd tried so hard to shield himself from for all these years.

There's no telling how long he sat there, furiously rubbing at his eyes as the tears refused to stop falling. Not till the familiar crack of apparation reached his ears could he fully hold himself high again. George couldn't see him like this, he wouldn't let him.

With the creaking of the front doors hinges Fred stood, clearing his throat and running a final hand across his puffy, tear stained cheeks. "You're back early, what'd happen you strike out?" He joked, turning only to be met with the equally teary eyes of y/n. Although hers held something else as well - anger. Fred felt cold. What was she doing back here?

"Where do you get the nerve?" She snapped. Freds expression screwed between a mixture of insult and confusion. "Don't you dare, for a second, think you know how I feel." "I do." "No. No you don't! Otherwise you would have realised that I fucking love you too!" "W-what?"

"You think you're the only one? That after all these years together; after all those nights in the Astronomy tower. After all those days you spent by my side as I laid dying in that hospital bed. After all your time spent healing me; that I haven't fallen in love with you?"

"Well...well WHY DIDN'T YOU SAY ANYTHING!?" "WHY DIDN'T YOU!?"

Freds mouth was open but no words were coming. He let out a defeated breath, leaning against the back of the sofa as the weight of everything set in.

"...when?" "I don't know when I fell. Only when I realised. Guess that was the only good thing to come from that evil, pink bitch being around." Y/n chuckled sadly.

"THEN!? you knew then?" "After your first detention. I bandaged your hand and we spent the night together in the common room. You fell asleep in my lap, that's...that's when I knew."

This was all so overwhelming. So much for the quiet night in. Fred stared fixedly at a point on the side wall in thought, lightly shaking his head, unsure of exactly how he felt or what to do. This was everything he'd ever wanted to hear and that scared him a little bit.

"Look, I didn't say anything because you mean too much to me to ever risk jeopardising what we had and I- I could never find the words to..." Y/n swallowed thickly as all emotion caught in her throat. Taking his hand tightly in hers she tried to ground herself within the moment. The action turning Freds gaze back to hers.

"I thought it mattered what I said, or when I said it. Then I realised, all that matters is that you make me happier than I ever thought I could be. I never want to lose that and if you’ll let me, I will spend the rest of my life trying to make you feel the same way. All you have to do is just tell me; what do you want?"

Fred watched as the tears welled within y/ns eyes the longer she spoke, he wondered how they ever managed to be so goddamn obliviously stupid, that neither realised.

A soft smile crept across his lips as he tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "All I've ever wanted...is you." Y/ns whole body relaxed at his words, head falling in relief. Looking back into his eyes she bit her lip to suppress a giddy, lovestruck, smile.

"You've always had me."

#fred weasley x reader #harry potter fanfiction #fred weasley #hp imagine #harry potter #fred weasley fanfiction

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ninacarstairss · 3 years

Text

Golden

Just some self indulgent fluff for the herongraystairs week where Jem is well and never became a silent brother, Tessa never had to let go of half of her heart and Will has the two loves of his life by his side but still keeps on biting vampires

“You cannot possibly tell me you bit another vampire, Will!”

Will and Jem had just came back from a patrol night that had taken a turn for the worst. There seemed to be some peculiar demon activity in some parts of Soho that turned out to be a rogue clan of vampires wreaking havoc in taverns and clubs, attacking when people were most drunk or tired from a long night. Charlotte had sent out Will and Jem to try and neutralize the problem, together with Gideon and Gabriel. When they found themselves in the den of this clan, outnumbered and unprepared to fight them with proper weapons, they'd tested one of Henry's latest inventions to even their odds: Henry had manage to produce a device that radiated light as bright as sunlight but with different components. It might have worked well with demons, but it did very little to vampires, since it was artificial light. Even so, it was their only chance, so Will had lit the device and the searing light caused the vampires to back away for a moment. They had soon realized it couldn't hurt them, but a second's hesitation was all the Shadowhunters needed. Gabriel shot his arrows and covered for the others as they lunged for the rogues. The place went dark again in a few moments but they succeeded nonetheless.

As they came back to the institute to check on their injuries and update Charlotte on the night, Will had slipped away to look for Bridget and ask for a bucket of holy water to be delivered to him without fussing anyone else, but Jem had of course found him.

“I knew you'd do that, you nitwit!” Jem says as he comes up behind Will. “This is the fourth time in six years, I'm starting to think you enjoy drenching yourself in holy water.”

“I certainly do not,” Will replies, a playful spark in his tone. “It was necessary, that vampire was sneaking up on you!”

Jem heaves a sigh. “Thank you for your heroic gesture, my dearest Will” he mocks, “but I'm certain you're aware that you had weapons on your gear for a reason, aren't you?”

“I– well, I had to think fast.”

Jem throws his head back and laughs. “You surely weighed the options carefully,” he says. He throws an arm around Will and heads for the corridor where their rooms are. “Come on, we need to get you out of that gear and get you drunk on holy water,” a ritual, Jem thinks, they were probably too accustomed to by now.

Will smiles and follows him. “Find Tessa on your way up to the attic. And ask for books. I'm going to need a distraction.”

“Are you implying,” Jem frowns, “that Tessa and I aren't a fitting enough company?”

Will grins a plants a kiss on Jem's mouth. “I think you know the answer to that question quite well.” He flashs a dazzling smirk at Jem before he makes for his room to change out of the gear.

– – – – – – –

“So, did this one taste particularly good?” asks Tessa as soon as she comes into the attic, a tray of pastries balanced on her hands for the long night ahead of them. Both Jem and Will laugh.

“Yes, my darling, quite salty and bloody. There was something missing, though”

“Let me guess, your senses?”

“Why, has he ever had any? Did I miss that?” asks Jem.

“Ah” Will heaves a dramatic sigh. “Betrayed by the ones I love the most. You should be thankful.”

“And you should be drinking buckets of holy water instead of bathing yourself in it,” Tessa shoots back. “But thank you for saving our dearest Jem,” she says, her tone softening on the name. She leans in and gives him a featherlight kiss.

Tessa lays down next to Jem on the floor and lets her head rest on his legs. “What happened, then?” she asks, looking up at Jem's clear eyes.

“We ran into some ill-mannered vampires.”

“Meaning that they were quite happily calling us their dinner,” intervenes Will.

“Yes,” Jem concedes. “It was a rogue clan. They must have been newly turned because no other clan had ever heard of them. However, we tried using Henry's new invention to gain some time.”

“Did it work?”

“Better than his last invention,” says Will. “This one didn't almost deafened us all.”

“It was actually very helpful,” confesses Jem. “It gave us time to even the numbers. Then it stopped working, everything went dark again and, as we were fighting, Will apparently bit yet another vampire.”

“You know, Will, you are becoming quite predictable” Tessa says, chuckling.

“Oh! How– ” cries Will.

“Yes,” Jem cuts him off, “my love, you should try some new moves sometimes–”

A splash of water comes at them. Jem and Tessa hear Will laugh as they shake droplets of water from their faces and hair. Jem's half-drenched clothes cling to his body and Tessa's dress feels twice as heavy soaked in holy water. Their gazes meet and a laugh escapes them as they watch Will grab a soaked pastry from the tray with a rather satisfied look on his face.

There is still a dramatic frown on Will's face when he turns back to look at them and Tessa and Jem exchange a brief glance, their eyes gleaming, smiling at what they both are thinking.

Jem's grin widens even more when his eyes return on the dark haired boy. “Have I ever told you how cute you look when you're angry?”

That earns Jem another bucketful of water but this time he dodges most of it, as he lets out a bark of laughter. The shadow of the scowl on Will’s face vanishes with a chuckle and Jem notices his gaze soften as it lays on him and Tessa and the smiles on their faces.

Time seems to stretch out for a moment as their gazes intertwine and lock. An always inexplicable quietness settles in the air between them as they take in the sight of each other in the soft gleam of sunrise. Jem catches Tessa's grey eyes washed in the golden light and Will's tousled wet hair sticking to his forehead. Driven by a desire he cannot silence, he raises a hand and cups the nape of Will's neck, running his lean fingers through the silky curls, and Will revels in the touch. Jem's other hand seeks Tessa's and she closes the distance between them to kiss him. In the familiarity of the moment Jem thinks of hundred others like this, when the warmth in his chest rises to a steady flame, a sure certainty often bigger than himself, a warm embrace in which he would gladly lose himself over and over again.

And he does; savouring the love gleaming in Will's impossibly blue eyes and Tessa's soft lips, welcoming this marvelous feeling he never thought he'd have the chance to experience.

They sit still for an infinite amount of time, the golden light pooling in the room, the stinging smell of holy water still dampening the air around them.

After a while, Will smiles and grabs another one of the pastries, a spark crossing his eyes. “So,” he asks, a mischievous undertone again in his voice, “did you bring me any real entertainment?”

His eyes meet Tessa's as she takes out a book from behind her back. The cover, Jem knows without having to see it, reads A Tale of Two Cities. He rolls his eyes as Will smiles. “Ah, you know me well, my beautiful Tess,” he says as he reaches his hand to the tray to grab some more food. “You know,” he adds, taking a bite, “holy water tastes much better with these things.”

Jem grins as Tessa opens the book and starts reading aloud. Will's eyes lay on Jem for a moment and he looses himself in that immensely deep blue and the gentle expression in it.

In the warm light of sunrise Jem finds himself thinking that if their wretched pasts, if the pain they'd endured and the people they'd lost were what it needed for the three them to be together on the floor of an attic, drenched with holy water and surrounded by pastries and a good book, it was all worth it.

Tag list: @cordaisya

(let me know if you want to be added!)

#cece writes #my writing #herongraystairs week #herongraystairs #i’m not entirely happy with how this turned out #i definitely can’t write 1800s english #will herondale #jem carstairs #tessa gray #tid #the infernal devices #tid fic #tsc #tsc fic #the shadowhunter chronicles #shadowhunters #userfandomsnett

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izabellq · 3 years

Text

Costumes -> Tamaki Amajiki

summary: you accidentally match costumes with tamaki. prepare yourself for a whole day of endless shenanigans.

contains: MAJOR FLUFF, language if you squint (ik canonically, mirio is in 3-B, but for the sake of this plot, the big three are all in 3-A) also, i tried to make this gender-neutral, so if there’s any specified pronouns, let me know and i’ll fix it ASAP!

THIS IS MY HALLOWEEN SPECIAL! (im very much aware i posted this a day late oop)

UA had decided to hold a special event where students could wear their Halloween costume to school. You weren’t planning anything special or unique, just something to get the job done. So, you decided to dress like a cute puppy. It was only a simple onesie: topped with cute floppy dog ears on your hood, and a tail that attached from the bottom. You weren’t expecting to get a lot of attention, which was perfectly fine with you because you were never the type to seek the stage. You topped off the simple look with a black spot on your nose and one around your eye. And just like, you were good to go.

When you walked into school, you couldn’t help but feel a tad bit insecure. It seemed like everyone had decked out for this special occasion. You passed by some anime cosplay, food costumes, group oriented costumes — everything you could possibly think of. And as you made your way to your class, you wondered what Tamaki would be wearing.

You couldn’t help yourself. It was undeniably true that you had a rather large crush on him. Everything about him was enticing. He was so shy that it was usually you who initiated conversation, but that wasn’t enough to make you falter. You understood he wasn’t the most socially active person around. To be frank, it was rather comforting to know that not everyone at UA was a egotistical narcissist.

Finding your assigned seat, you scanned the class. Some of your peers also took the simple route which put some of your thoughts at ease. Others, the more competitive students, were quite impressive themselves.

You turn towards the doorway when Mirio’s booming voice gathers the room’s attention. He was wearing a... whoopie cushion? Oh dear lord. Mirio was a stickler for humor, so of course, he’d wear practically anything that could rise a laugh out of someone. Only, his jokes kind of sucked and no doubt would the class of 3-A be subject to awful fart jokes for the rest of the day. You weren’t so worried about that as you were worried about the two other students usually attached to his hip. One of them being Tamaki Amajiki.

The next one to stop into class was Nejire Hado who was absolutely breathtaking. Her costume, which was nothing more than a fairy, seemed to capture her true personality perfectly. Although, an angel would also be very accurate in her case. She turned towards the entrance way and stuck her head out into the hallway, “Tamaki! Don’t be shy! You look so cute!”

Your heart began to beat just a little bit faster.

“Mirio! Come help me out with him,” Nejire stomped into the hallway, the fluttering of her makeshift wings dissappeared, only to be followed by a laughing Mirio.

When they returned, their hands were clasped over Tamaki’s wrists, forbidding him from turning around and sulking out in the hallway. When you saw him, you’re taken aback. The smallest of gasps erupt from your lips when you notice his costume choice. A onesie, similar to yours, but instead of the dog ears; replaced with cat ones, and a longer tail attached to the back. He had the same minimal face paint (lined whiskers and a nose) as you did, curtesy of Nejire.

When he looked up, his cheeks were flamed with embarrassment. He found your gaze, and if it were possible, he became even more sheepish. You weren’t any different. The thought of having a matching costume with Tamaki, despite not having any prior arrangements, made you equally embarrassed. Now, all you wondered was, did he notice?

Well, if he didn’t before, he sure did now when Nejire spoke up, “Hey Y/N! Oh my– are you a puppy? How cute! Wait! You’re matching with Tamaki! Now you two look like an adorable couple!”

Her excitement, plus her lack of censorship, made the class laugh— everyone’s attention on you and Tamaki. “Nejire...” Tamaki muttered. He stared at the floor, wishing it’d just swallow him whole.

“You guys should take a picture together,” Mirio suggested, walking over to where you sat and giving you a hand. You hesitantly took it, positive that you looked about ready to vomit or pass out. Maybe both. In that order.

Dragged to stand next to Tamaki, you spare him a single glance. He has his left hand up to his face, doing a shoty job at covering his red cheeks. To you, he seemed... more embarrassed than usual? Perhaps he just didn’t wanted to match costumes with you. It saddened you, but it wasn’t like you could do anything about it now.

Nejire laughed, “Say cheese!”

Tamaki mumbled something that you could only assume was in response to Nejire. In a small pickle of confidence, you grabbed his hand and entangled your fingers with his just before the camera went off.

“Cheese!”

That was first period.

When lunch rolled around, Tamaki had face planted himself on the table.

Nejire and Mirio sent each other a knowing look before moving to console him.

“I don’t understand why you’re not happy, Tamaki! You’re matching costumes with them, you got a picture with them, and they also held your hand!” Nejire listed off the things that happened before the bell rang, signaling the start of first period.

“I am happy...” Tamaki muttered, lifting himself up from the table, “But they probably hate me now.”

“I wouldn’t say that!” Mirio added, “Haven’t I told you that they most definitely have a crush on you?”

“No offense Mirio... but I’m not too keen on taking advice from a literal walking whoopie cushion.” Tamaki propped his arm on the table, before leaning his head into the palm of his hand. The same one you had so eagerly held. He wished to repeat the notion a million more times. Only now, he was afraid he had messed up his one and only opportunity.

Mirio gasped, “I’ll have you know that I got many compliments today!”

Nejire giggled before turning back to Tamaki. “Why don’t we just call them over here?”

“I- um, no... I’d rather not do that,” Tamaki rushed out. He wasn’t sure if he could handle another awkward occurrence with you. You’d surely find him weird.

“Where are they anyways?” Mirio asked, not before sinking his teeth on the apple provided on his lunch tray.

“Oh I see them!” Nejire not-so-subtly pointed at you. Tamaki couldn’t help himself as he turned to look in your direction.

You were laughing at something someone had said before adding your own little quip. You were so cute, he thought. Nejire was the one who suggested he wear a cat-themed costume due to the running joke that he was a ‘cute little kitten’. He was prepared to arrive in his normal uniform but Nejire’s persistence was unwavering. And if he knew what you’d be wearing— would he have accepted the costume more easily? You deserved better than him, he knew, but a small part of him fantasized about the ways you’d love him in a way no one else had before.

“Earth to Tamaki,” Nejire sang, snapping him out of his thoughts. “They’re coming over here, straighten up!”

“Hey Y/N, care to sit?” Mirio asked.

Tamaki’s looking down by the time you got there, so he barely registers it when you sit beside him. Your shoulder rubs against his in brief contact and it makes him shudder. He hopes you didn’t notice.

“What’s up guys?” You brought over a juice box from your other table, sipping on the straw of your drink rather intently.

“Tell Tamaki that my costume is funny!” Mirio piped up, distracted from the match-making he was SUPPOSED to be doing.

You nervously giggled, “Well... your costume is certainly an attention-grabber!”

Mirio seemed pleased with that answer, not having considered the fact that you dodged the question the best way you knew how. Tamaki stared at you, adoration etched into his irises. He didn’t realize he had left out a soft laugh until you were staring at him.

He choked up, “Uh- sorry... I didn’t mean to laugh.”

You smiled, a picture definition of the word perfect. Everything about you, he loved. He just loved you in general. “You don’t need to apologize Tamaki! Your laugh is very cute!”

You pinched his cheek before continuing your previous conversation with Mirio and Nejire. Did you even realize what you were doing to him? He hid his face in his arms and rested on the lunch table. Tamaki knew his face was probably several shades of red and pink. He was only wondering how long it would take before you’d actually kill him with your presence.

And that concluded lunch.

The last period of the day came and went uneventfully. And soon enough, class 3A had returned to the dorms, agreeing to remain in their respective costumes until the clock striked midnight. Some students had decided to spend the night on a scary movie binge, while others payed no mind to the event by studying and finishing thier cumulated late assignments.

You on the other hand we’re stuck in the kitchen, preparing some coffee to get you through the night. Mirio and Nejire had wanted to pull an all-nighter as well, which meant you had to figure out a way to not fall alseep before midnight hit. You already had a messed up sleep schedule as it was, so one more added incentive should make the whole evening smooth sailing.

“Y-Y/N?”

You turn towards the kitchen doorway where Tamaki stood, a bit shellshocked from your presence. Still in that cat onesie, you could see his whiskers had become a bit smudged.

You smiled at him, an ache wrapped around your chest became noticeably present to you. “Amajiki! Shouldn’t you be up in Mirio’s room with Nejire? I’ll be up there in a second, I just gotta finish this.”

“Ah, well,” Tamaki moved into the kitchen, fidgeting with his fingers as he talked. “You were taking a while, so they sent me to check up on you. I’m glad you’re o-okay though.”

You hummed in acknowledgment, turning back to the light stirring of the coffee machine. Your fingers uncoordinatedly tapped the kitchen’s counter, a melodic beat strung to match your voice. Tamaki watched with amusement— nothing like the sight of you in your element could make him any happier.

Actually, there was one thing that would be slightly better.

Slowly, he approached you until he had occupied the space beside you. You noticed him almost immediately, but had pretended to take more interest in your coffee than him. Your heart rate picked up, leaving you to mentally curse your inability to remain calm.

“I have a question,” His voice was hushed, a bit unsure of itself. You turned to look at him but his vision remained on the counter.

“What’s up?” When the coffee machine stilled, you pulled your mug out and carefully placed it in front of you. The smell of the roasted beans infiltrated your nostrils and you couldn’t get enough of it.

“Do you- I mean... I think I’m... no that’s not right. I think it’d better if I just show you...” He bit the inside of his lip, whilst finally mustering the courage to look at you. You’re eyes were widened with curiosity, the reflection of the night settling in your skin.

He moves slightly closer, and when you don’t move away, he softly places his hand on your cheek, angling your face so your centimeters away from each other. Tamaki tries to speak, but he honestly didn’t even think he’d get this far. He’s left utterly speechless. Perhaps if Fatgum were here, he’d supply him with the confidence he needed to pull this off. His anxiety-prone thoughts began to take initiative and he starts to pull away, believing to have bit off more than he could chew. He really did believe you deserved better than him.

But your still there. You’ve always been there. In more ways than one. You grip the front of his onesie and pull him back to his previous spot. His hand recupped your face, and you take this opportunity of surprise to place your lips on his. Nothing more than a second long, only the brush of your lips before the tingling sensation had dissappeared all together.

It wasn’t enough. For either of you. You can’t remember who surged forward first, but it couldn’t have mattered less. The only thing that was being even remotely processed was the heat of your frenzied kisses. Tamaki poured all of his emotions into that moment; from the way he felt when seeing you in your puppy onesie to the butterflies that clouded his mind whenever he thought of you.

You were the first to pull back out of breath. You don’t care that your makeup is beyond repair, or that his is either. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you muttered six words into the smooth crevice of his skin, completely forgetting about the coffee you were prepping for yourself. “I love you, I always have.”

Tamaki smiled, though the nervousness hadn’t completely disappeared. “I love you too.” He admitted, feeling his heart flutter at the mutual affection. It wasn’t one-sided after all, not one bit.

Maybe he ought to take more advice from his friend the whoopie cushion.

Then again, maybe not.

“There waiting for us you know,” Your voice was a bit muffled, having been the after-effect of hiding your face in his neck. He understood you perfectly nonetheless.

“They can wait a little longer,” His arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you impossibly closer.

“Kiss me again,” You pleaded.

And so, he did just that.

CHECK OUT MASTERLIST HERE!

#anime #fanfic #my hero academia #fluff #my hero academia x reader #bnha #boku no hero academia #tamaki amajiki x reader #tamaki amakiji #amajiki tamaki x reader #mha tamaki #I LOVE THIS MAN OMG #gender nuetral

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mcfiddlestan · 3 years

Text

WinterFrost Single Dads AU

Good news! I think I've finally settled on a title for this fic. I'm going to post the third chapter here, but I will probably wait to post any more until I start posting on AO3. Which will hopefully be soon. For now, enjoy this short chapter!

xoxo, La

Pairing: Loki x Bucky Barnes (there are others past and future, but I’m not giving them away just yet)

Rating: M

Word count: 1,289

Summary: Loki is living a great life as a Manhattan lawyer and constantly partying with Tony Stark, his best friend. Loki’s life before he came to New York more than a decade ago is a mystery for those close to him. But it’s all about to come to light when he gets a call from someone in his past.

Bucky is just trying to catch a break. A few hookups with a fellow soldier led to a quickie marriage and baby – and two years later, a quick divorce. His daughter is now eight years old and the light of his life. But he can’t seem to get his shit together. Struggling to find a job and keep a hold on his sobriety, it’s a one-night stand that gives him the kick in the ass he needs to be the man his daughter believes he is.

Warnings: Mature language and situations, some drug use, and talk about addiction.

Read: Chapter 1, Chapter 2.

Tag list: @teadrinkingwolfgirl, @abbessolute, @marvelswinterfrost

Chapter 3

Loki watched, entertained, as Tony flirted with and charmed one of the girls they picked up at the last place they’d stopped. And he meant girl; she couldn’t have been older than twenty, as far as he could tell. As Tony’s friend, Loki could only roll his eyes and laugh at his antics. As his attorney, Loki had to consider whether he should step in and stop his friend from creating a legal nightmare. Ultimately, Loki had, together with Pepper, now Tony’s co-CEO — and his next closest confidante next to Loki — devised a plan whenever Tony took a liaison back to the Tower.

The small party was tucked into a booth in a dark corner of the bar, and Loki was starting to feel his buzz fading. No one seemed inclined to get another round of drinks, so Loki decided he would just get his own. Sliding out of the booth, he made his way toward an open spot at the bar. Just as he reached it, another patron rudely shoved him aside as he tried to pass.

“Watch where you’re going,” the man all but growled at Loki.

Pushed into another person sitting at the bar, Loki apologized to him as he straightened. “I believe it was you who bumped into me,” he tartly responded as he made a point to brush off the jacket of his dark suit.

“Then get out of my way, you prissy asshole.”

“Prissy?” Loki snickered.

“Something funny?”

“You. Was that not obvious?” Loki laughed again and earned a thump to the chest that didn’t do much to move him. “Careful. This suit was expensive.”

“Maybe you’d like to step outside and settle this, huh, Chuckles?”

Loki laughed again, but before he could respond, the person Loki had fallen on turned around. “Hey, fellas, come on. I’m trying to wallow here. Do you mind?”

The man glared at Loki, who simply arched a brow and smirked, before he walked around Loki to leave. Loki watched him until he was gone, then relaxed his shoulders and turned to face the bar again. “Thank you,” he murmured to the interrupter.

“Hmm?” He hummed in question, half-turning so he could keep his straw in his mouth.

“You saved me an expensive dry cleaning bill. That wasn’t exactly the kind of distraction I was seeking out tonight.”

The stranger cocked a brow, his eyes running over Loki’s black-on-black suit. “Could you have? Taken it outside,” he added when Loki raised a brow. “You look a little slim there, doll.”

Loki's lips curved, tilting his head in amusement. “I can hold my own, thank you very much. May I sit?” He motioned to the stationary stool before him. The man shrugged and gestured to it himself. “Why are you wallowing?” Loki asked once he was seated.

“Hmm? Oh.” The stranger sighed, breathing out through his nose because the straw never left his mouth. He seemed to be sipping at what could've been a whiskey. “It’s my birthday,” he mumbled, looked at his watch, and grunted. “It was, at least, until about an hour ago.”

Loki waved down the bartender as he waited for a response. He frowned at the stranger's answer. “Oh. Happy birthday?”

He snickered around the straw. “Thanks. I’m just not in a great place to celebrate at the moment. Life is just kicking me in the balls lately. And, on top of that, none of my friends could find the time to join me. So that just made it worse.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. Vodka rocks, please. Make it a double. Top shelf,” Loki requested once the bartender stepped up. He didn’t see the stranger's brows shoot up high over his eyes.

“Jeez. That’s some hard stuff for the middle of the week.”

Loki chuckled. “I suppose I’m doing a little wallowing of my own.” His eyes were drawn to the man beside him when he shifted to lean his head on his hand, raising his brows again expectantly. Loki only grinned softly.

“I shared, doll,” the stranger said. “Now you.”

Loki’s smile faded, and he looked away. He hadn’t even told Tony why he wanted to get totally out of his mind tonight. What was the harm in telling a stranger? “I, erm, lost a friend recently.”

“Lost like misplaced or...?”

Loki glanced at the stranger as the bartender set his drink before him with a cocktail napkin and sighed. “Or.”

“Oof. Condolences, doll.”

Loki brought the glass to his lips to take a sip and chuckled as he brought it down again. “Why do you keep calling me ‘doll’?”

The stranger’s mouth ticked up. “Ah, well. I don’t know your name, for one thing — which is fine, of course. I meant no offense if you are offended. ‘Doll’ is just what I say. Kinda like you Brits saying ‘dahling.’”

They both snickered at the stranger's exaggerated drawl of the word. “I’m not British, but I understand what you mean.”

“You’re not? You sound British.”

“I know.” Loki took another drink. “It’s a long story…” Loki looked at the man again and added with a twinkle in his eye, “darling.��

The stranger smirked. “You got a nice smile.”

Loki felt himself blush and smiled wider before he could stop himself. “Thank you. I expect you have one, too. To match those devastating eyes.” The straw fell out of the stranger’s mouth for the first time as he smiled fully. Loki nodded smugly, turning back to his drink. “I was right.”

The man beside Loki went quiet for a moment, but Loki felt his eyes on him as he continued to drink his vodka. “You wanna get out of here, doll?”

Loki almost wanted to puff out his chest proudly. For most of the night, it was Tony who’d received all the flirty looks and free drinks. Of all nights, it was a comfort to know Loki could still attract a good-looking man once in a while. Loki took a moment to contemplate his next move, even glancing at himself in the mirror behind the bar. “I live alone. My place is —"

“Okay.” The stranger tossed aside the straw from his glass, swallowed back the rest of his drink, and reached for his wallet.

“Just let me get my coat,” Loki said as he rose from the stool and dropped a large bill on the bar before he crossed back to the booth to grab his long coat.

Tony looked up from the slim, tanned neck he was currently nuzzling — which, Loki realized with a start, was a different female from when he left the booth. “Where’re you going?”

“Home,” Loki answered, a tilt to his lips, as he slipped on his coat.

“Already?” Tony glanced at his watch. “Lokes, it's not even two am yet. We still have all night.” He snuck a sideways peek at the girl beside him then leaned toward Loki. “Is it because of them? We can ditch them and head back to the Tower if you want.”

Loki chuckled as he tugged his long black strands from the neck of the coat. “No. Don’t worry. Stay and enjoy yourself with your bevy of worshippers. There’s no need to accompany me.”

“Are you sure?” Tony asked the question just as the stranger popped up beside Loki.

“You ready?” he murmured just loud enough for Tony to hear, leaning just so into Loki’s side. Tony’s brow cocked high.

Loki sent the unknown man a sly smile and nod before grinning at Tony. “I am. Have a good night, Anthony.”

Tony stared tight-lipped as Loki left with his new friend.

#WinterFrost Single Dads AU #winterfrost #my fic #loki x bucky #yay i wrote a thing

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vidalinav · 3 years

Text

Why? Why? WHY? Rant 2.0

ACOSF is very interesting to me, because there was absolutely no reason to have any of them be so antogonistic to Nesta when she was at rock bottom unless it’s to set up that they’re still going to be problems with Nesta in later books. That’s what SJM set up whether she meant to or not and only time will tell. But If the IC and the sisters had said nothing and were more neutral and the plot stayed the same... it would have been a better book. If they showed an ounce of compassion, it would have been a fantastic book. If there was a mixture of different views on the matter, it would have been a realistic book. Except in the narrative we got, the amount of antagonism is too strong for what didn’t happen to negate that, which is also why I have such a bad feeling about this healing arc. Let me explain.

Let’s say they said nothing. They told her about the intervention. Nesta agreed albeit still feeling a bit betrayed because she wanted more time to heal. Rhys was quiet, not sneering. Mor didn’t say anything. Amren was civil maybe business like. They were a bit pushy about using her powers, but Nesta conceded after learning about the baby. They were never directly antagonist. Elain stayed away, but we’d obviously know why from Nesta’s POV. We would also know why Feyre is not there, because Nesta doesn’t want to see her. Cassian would then be there to segment the romance and be the person she leans on, when she is healing. Maybe she’s a bit mean, but he takes it. He challenges, eventually he shows the more caring part of himself and the romance begins. Everything else can stay the same, mostly Cassian too. IF that all happened, then I would be more inclined to believe that the intervention was necessary, that Nesta had a skewed perspective, that they all might have tried to help at some point but Nesta was the one pushing them all away and did so up to this point. She would have her revelations, her epiphanies, and realize hey perhaps she is mean sometimes, or she would still have her personal hatred, and it would be about accountability, but no one is actively proving her right about her skewed perspective. The consequence is then not that she is being shamed into healing, but that without healing, she would lose her relationships and she wants them. She grows to want them. I would then be inclined to believe that the IC were waiting her out, possibly having Feyre or Cassian in their best interest if not Nesta, and that they were minding their own business until they directly needed Nesta involved. Not hostile, but wary perhaps. And then when Nesta did start healing and opening up, then their reactions would have made sense in that they were lightly friendly but not close, and it was up to Nesta to really fix those relationships. And when she did sacrifice her powers, then it would have been purely internal, that Nesta was proving to herself and to others that she’s open for love and that she loves them, particularly Feyre. The entire healing arc then would have been more internal because it focuses on Nesta and not the IC’s involvement with Nesta, and the outcomes and the ending are still the same.

Opposite wise, let’s say that the IC/sisters were empathetic, as in the arc that would be more external. Healing not just for Nesta but for the relationships. A reciprocal sort of love. Feyre would tell her that they’re intervening, but because they care for her and she’ll learn in due time. Rhys would maybe be more hard-pressed, but we would see instances where he understands the darkness, the hollow feeling. We would have Amren who looks deeply concerned for Nesta, because she had been her friend at some point. We’d have Elain, who would come to the library desperately seeking comradery and even though she cries at what Nesta says, she understands that Nesta is hard-pressed and only recently started healing. Cassian would possibly be getting frustrated, but there would always be this internal monologue of I want Nesta to heal. I want that girl back. I understand as a soldier if nothing else. Having this deep sorrow in his chest from perhaps not being able to do anything but wait. Mor wouldn’t have to be nice, but she would see how Nesta fits in the library, know the pain of growing up in a gilded cage, would perhaps see Feyre and Cassian and feel compassion for her friends and want to perhaps help for them, so she offers to teach Nesta how to dance. Nesta then would slowly open up to them, open up to love, and all of the ugly parts of herself, the hateful, angry parts would then be juxtaposed with the action of everyone else, with the love that she needs to feel for herself, the love that came even at the last moment with her father. And when she sacrifices her powers, it’s just proof again, that she loves, and she wants to love, and she’s willing to be hurt for love, because she wants to feel it all. And then the relationships at the end would then be open to be made, to be healed more completely, but then I would understand this hopeful sort of ending where her story is complete, but also just beginning.

Third option, is that we could get a bit of everything, because why does everyone have the same opinion as it seems in the book? Perhaps it’s Feyre and Cassian who completely show compassion, empathy. Elain could still have the problems, but either show empathy, or completely be antagonistic. Azriel is fairly neutral, Rhys is maybe more neutral where they’re waiting it out, but there are no bad opinions towards her. The antagonists could be Mor and Amren. Any of these people could be switched in that role, but the point would be that a few are neutral and more business like or minding their own. A few could possibly have bad intentions and it would be clear. And some would be undeniably empathetic, and I don’t mean to be kind--I mean that they understand, they have viewed Nesta through her eyes, and understand what she is going through and are unwilling to give up on her. The empathy would be the important aspect. But the point would be that none of them change their characteristics. The antagonists would still be fairly antagonistic. The mind your own’s would be open to a friendship, but the friendship would need work but there is a foundation for it. The empathetic would be completely close to the main, because they have stood by her, they have fought, and Nesta would realize this in her own personal journey. They have segmented a bond. The plot would be the same, except we’d now see that some characters suck more than others, and there’s definitely character arcs and growth that need to be made, but it would lead to future books that that might be highlighted and therefore leaves the door open for the rest of the series.

HOWEVER, what we got is very odd.

Because all of these characters start off antagonistic. All of them have some comments that are goading (except for Azriel). We have Feyre who makes the embarrassment comment, Rhys who... is antagonistic in many places. I won’t list them all. We have Mor and her lines. We have Amren and her lines. We have Elain and her lines. And no variation with anyone. Nesta gets proven right about her wrong perspective. She has an internal healing arc that seems to just morph into another odd perception, because she’s never proved wrong about herself, but she’s proven right about how good Cassian is (rolls eyes). She notes that she might like who she's becoming by the end, but how? Why? What has occurred to disprove her irrational thoughts? At the end, she is still very much irrational. Nesta still thinks too highly of Cassian, and she thinks too highly of everyone, and very little for herself. She is ripped wide open emotionally though, but that happens after the solstice scene where life suddenly looks very good. She apologies to Amren, who probably least deserved the apology, and to Cassian who also makes comments, but keeps making comments until the end where he means to apologize but doesn’t get the chance to by plot. Oh wait, she does apologize to Feyre about telling her about the baby, I think, but that situation is just swept under the rug for how dramatic it ended up being. Her not wanting to exist is also one and done. The necessity of the intervention is never highlighted, so the reader questions if it was necessary. I question if she might not need an intervention from them. Some of them stay the same throughout (Azriel, maybe Elain... maybe Feyre). Some of them miraculously change to neutral, even if nothing happens to change their mind (Mor). Some of them just change completely (Amren). Some of the relationships are only really fixed because of the baby plot (Rhys and Feyre). And Cassian is probably the only one who has the most reasonable scenario on why that relationship blooms, but it’s questionable if it was truly satisfying because ultimately the only person who really had growth was Nesta even though there are two POVs. And at the end, no one still has shown empathy. Well actually Gwyn and Emerie showed empathy, so perhaps the motivation in healing with Nesta was just added friends, a mate, and distraction. Which I guess... but why then involve so much of the opinions of the IC/sisters if they don’t mean too much? Why emphasize the danger of Nesta, the badness of Nesta, the problems with Nesta, and not negate any of these in scenes with the people that are perceiving her like that. Especially if the goal of this is not to just heal but to heal relationships, as it seems like that was the goal or should have been the goal if the perceptions of others were emphasized. So the end was almost too happy, too hopeful for an arc that started off with such deep trauma and every relationship seemingly failing to a point where the others are antagonistic, and who the narrator received the bare minimum at best to facilitate change... It’s a balance issue I’m telling you.

And, I am making general statements about what happened for good reason. I am trying to show how this could be more satisfying, if the aspects of the story was changed just a teeny bit. I have never read a book so deep in good and bad things. So easily arguable and all it took was how other people affected the narrative. So, I ask why? Why not make the IC/sisters empathetic or neutral or a strong variation of all three (empathetic, neutral, and antagonist). Why have all of them start fairly antagonist, very obviously antagonistic actually, and then have no major scenes of disproval? Because if you start that dramatic you need dramatic scenes throughout to facilitate the dramatic ending. If you start very low or very angry and the ending is suppose to be higher than rock bottom, the middle scenes should be a tug of war. So where was it? Why do it?

WHy? why? WHY???????

#nessian #nesta archeron #cassian #anti acosf #anti sjm #is this my last rant #idk #i need to get over this book

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elareine · 4 years

Note

Reverse robins idea. Jason doesnt become a Robin. The bats dont even find him before the cat herself. Selena is still on and off with Bruce at this point. Damian as noticed the little kitten running around and decides the kitten need a more responsible adult than his father and the cat. Cue thugs being terrified of the shadow that follows the little kitten around.

Thank you for this adorable prompt <3 Sorry it took me so long to finish.

“Uh. Dami? What’re you doing?”

Those were—a lot of throwing knives. Like, actual knives, not Bat-themed at all.

Damian didn’t look up. “Sharpening my weapons.”

They looked plenty sharp to Dick, but Damian was a fussy old maid like his father. Their father. He was still getting used to that one.

“You’re supposed to be in Metropolis,” Dick pointed out.

Damian scowled. Dick didn’t take it personally. He liked his oldest brother. Dami glared a lot and yelled at Bruce when he was mean, and he never told Dick that he should stop seeking revenge for what happened to his parents. “Change of plans.”

“Can I come?”

“You’re heading out with Father tonight,” Damian pointed out. “And anyway, no.”

“What’re you doing? Is it a date?” Full disclosure: Dick wasn’t entirely sure what a ‘date’ was. He just knew that everyone blushed when he asked the question and that Bruce, according to Alfred, never got any.

Damian, however, just shook his head. “No. It’s a mission.”

Dick tilted his head to the side. “I don’t believe you.”

“That does not matter. It is the truth either way.”

Bullshit. Damian was sharpening his weapons, okay, but there was no mission for him in Gotham tonight. Bruce had told Dick so when he mentioned that all that would be happening tonight was a Catwoman heist, so he would pick Dick up after.

(Dick had a sneaking suspicion that for Bruce, ‘heist’ and ‘date’ meant the same thing.)

Nooo, Damian was up to something. Something important—or embarrassing—enough that he would lie to his cute little brother about it.

Just wait until he told Babs about this! She was always going on about “Steph did this” and “Cass did that,” and now, finally, Dick had a juicy mystery to distract her. Hehe. This was going to be fun.

—

Selina would never understand Bats. If you’d asked her twenty years ago if she could see Bruce adopting a gaggle of orphans, she’d have laughed but agreed—if the kids were all alone in the world or in a situation that reminded Bruce of his own.

Like, the first kid—okay. That was his son. From the daughter of an immortal cult leader, Selina later found. Weird enough. Then the second just showed up because… the city needed him? And he was right? And then another assassin kid, this time a daughter.

Really, only Dick fitted the pattern she’s envisioned for Bruce. Which was ironic, because, by that time, she’d taken in her own boy (the first after two Catgirls), who fit the pattern much better.

Of course, their child-rearing methods showed some marked differences. Selina thought it was for the better, really. Jay needed to be trusted, given responsibility, to determine his own fate. She let him run his own missions, treated him as an almost-equal when they went out together, didn’t comment on how he sometimes didn’t seem focused on the target so much as on the corrupt people owning it. Jay was thriving.

When his shadow showed up, Selina had expected him to be angry, the way he was whenever B mentioned a concept like ‘bedtime’ or Selina tried to protect him. But he’d lit up like there was nothing more comforting than a six-foot-four shadow following you around, glaring at criminals and innocents alike.

Selina, in her heart of hearts, did not like Damian. She didn’t fault him for his flaws, but it was hard to like someone who called you a harlot under his breath a million times.

Jay, though, adored him. Like, hung-onto-his-few-words, begged-to-buy-a-sword adored him. They even went out on patrol together sometimes. So Selina… let them. Taught Jay more restraining holds and knock-out moves than she had the others because he was a gifted thief already, but that was clearly not all that would be on his path.

And, hey. Usually, she and Bruce had to put their… thing on hold when they were responsible for pre-teens. If these ones took care of themselves, she wasn’t going to complain.

—

“Dames,” Jon greeted him cheerfully, “what’re you up to? Gonna join me tonight?”

“I can’t.”

At twenty-seven, Jon was way too old to pout. He still did. “Aww, why not? Important mission?”

“Not precisely.” There was shuffling on the other end of the line. “I… Catwoman is planning a two-person heist tonight. Batman has intentions of preventing it.”

Jon instantly forgave him. He looooved seeing this side of his partner. Damian rarely let himself be openly soft about anyone but his family, pets, and team, and even that was kept incredibly guarded.

(He often considered that Damian would have benefited from being a younger sibling. Being the first to come live with Bruce had been a steep learning curve for the man. Too steep.)

Didn’t mean Jon wouldn’t tease Damian about it. “So two adults are not supervision enough for the kid?”

“You know it isn’t,” Damian growled. “Father and that woman might do a passable job separately, but not together.”

“What, are they fucking again?”

“Jon!”

Jon laughed. “C’mon, you caught them often enough to know it’s happening.”

“I’m not listening.” Damian immediately proved himself a liar by adding: “This is a dangerous area. They should know better.”

“Good thing you’re there, then.”

“I am sorry, though.” Damian’s voice softened. Jon once again marveled at how far he’d come. The teenager he’d befriended back then would never have such a thing. “Rain check?”

“I could join you, instead,” he offered, just to hear Damian sputter: “What—no! Your colors are visible a mile away!”

“Awww, don’t be like that!”

He decided then and there to keep an ear out for the kid when Damian wasn’t there. Just in case Jason wanted to sneak away to find his birth mother in a foreign country or some other stupid dramatic Gotham shit.

After hearing what had happened to Damian years ago, Jon had already made it his mission to protect the Robins, whether they wanted it or not. There wouldn’t be any more dead ones on his watch. It wouldn’t hurt to add a kitten to the list.

—

Jason had it handled. Really, he had. One of the goons had just taken a bit longer to go down, that was all. The knife had been totally unnecessary.

It took him another three minutes to do anything about that—two of the security guards were still standing, and they were pissed. Jason pushed one down the hallway, choked the other, and then clocked the first so hard he went down.

Then he turned around and searched for the darkest shadow. “I had that.”

Nothing moved.

“…it was a pretty good throw.” Maybe Jason should rethink his stance on throwing sharp shit at people, after all. He still maintained that a gun would be cleaner and more straightforward. Maybe Selina (and Damian) were right though about the value of silence. Their fight hadn’t alerted anyone.

At that, the thrower finally emerged from the shadows, cape dramatically outlining his figure. Jason rolled his eyes. What was it with Bats and dramatic costumes? Selina had made him swear that no matter how much he hung out with them, he wouldn’t ever wear one of the stupid things, and that was one promise that had been very easy to give.

“I have an observational task at the Bowery in two hours and could benefit from a second pair of eyes,” Damian said stiffly. “And your knowledge of the area, of course.”

Oh, awesome. Jason loved working in his old neighborhood. Made him feel useful, like he was doing something. “Can it wait an hour? Only, I’m kinda busy here, in case you didn’t notice.”

“Of course.” Was that a smile under the mask? “I will be waiting.”

Jason gave him a thumbs-up, though he made sure to call: “Don’t barge in again!” while running off. Selina would be waiting.

Jason had had a mother. Still had, really, death didn’t change that. Selina had told him she didn’t want to replace her, which was good cause she couldn’t. As for fathers—Nah. Jason had had enough of those for a lifetime; thank you, Bruce, you can fuck off.

But a big brother? That was new.

He liked it.

#elareine writes #batfamily #damian wayne #jason todd #jondami #batcat #dick grayson #selina kyle

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maliby · 3 years

Text

Diagnosis: Love (40)

When Johnny mentioned he would see you at the Hospital, both you and him had no idea it would be this way: you sitting in the waiting room with a presumed broken arm. It was nothing serious - you thought - you were walking to work, thinking about all of this Jaehyun mess, when a guy in a bike crashed into you and you fell to the floor.

"Y/N?! Oh my God, are you alright?" Johnny was passing by the emergency room when he noticed you and immediately came running.

"Yeah, it's nothing serious, just a guy on a bike that crashed into me."

Johnny soon started inspecting your arm, making you hiss as he touched it.

"Nothing serious? This could be broken! Come on, you're coming with me." Johnny placed his arm around you as he tried to help you up by tugging at your healthy arm.

"Johnny I can't just skip in line! There might be people that are worse than me." You tried to reason with him but to no avail, he was already guiding you to the x-ray room.

"I don't care."

You felt a little bad for cutting in line but, at the same time, your heart warmed up at the way Johnny was taking care of you. He stood by you, ran soothing circles on the small of your back and whispered in your ear he was gonna take care of you. You definitely couldn't wish for better.

Once the x-ray was done, and it was confirmed that you indeed had a broken arm, Johnny took you to his office to put a cast on you.

"You need to be more careful Y/N, it could have been much worse, you could have hurt your head!" Johnny reprimended as he wrapped your arm up.

"Yes dad," you mocked, acting like a little kid.

"I'm serious, I need you whole." Johnny's voice suddenly got smaller, warmth and care emanating all over. He then softly kissed your nose, the action making you blush.

"You look cute when you blush," he commented as he saw your reaction, a cute smile spreading all over his face.

"You told me that on purpose to make me blush more didn't you?"

"Maybe," Johnny said, sticking his tongue out and winking at you.

"Alright, you're all done baby. Now, I can't take you home righ now but, do you want me to call you an Uber?" Johnny asked, as he took off his gloves.

"What? No, I have work, have you forgotten?"

"Y/N, your arm is in no condition to work, you need to go home and rest."

"Please, this is why I have 2 arms, I'll just do everything with the other," you explained, lifting up your healthy arm to get your point across.

"How are you going to lift up patients with only one arm?" Johnny inquired.

"Well, you've been training me at the gym, I'm strong enough," you said, knowing fully well it wouldn't stick.

"Nice try but no. You're going home missy," he gave you a stern look before he pulled out his phone and opened up the Uber app.

"Ugh fine."

The truth was that you didn't want to go home. At work you could do just that - work. You could be busy, distract yourself, but at home? You'd have a much harder time keeping your thoughts about this whole Jaehyun situation in check.

What was happening was that you couldn't stop thinking about what Mark had told you. Ever since yesterday, your thoughts only remoted back to Jaehyun and it was driving you absolutely mad. You didn't know what to do. Should you talk to him? Ask him if it's all true? Or should you just let it go?

Your mind kept racing with these thoughts as you went to NCT Hospital's parking lot to wait for the Uber Johnny had sent for you. You begged the Universe to give you an answer on what to do, and even though it usually didn't give you any, today it did.

"Y/N? Oh my God, what happened to you? Are you alright?" Jaehyun asked.

--------

Y/N is the new nurse at NCT Hospital - the best hospital in the country. She was expecting it to be a big step in her career, but 'Bad Boy' Doctor Johnny Suh and 'Valentine' Pediatrician Jeong Jaehyun take her by surprise.

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sarcastically-defensive17 · 4 years

Text

Comfort - S. Reid

TW: death of loved one and grieving.

Spoilers: if you have not seen from season 6 onwards then please do not read as this contains spoilers for season 6 and season 10 at least!

Reid has a distinct knock. It was soft, but urgent. A large difference to the loud rasps he adopts at work. He would often come by after he finished a case. Or if he wants to have dinner, or simply spend some time together. But he hardly graced her door at such an odd hour.

When she heard the knocks, she rose from her chair. She had as bad a sleeping pattern as he did, except she spent her nights with her glasses on her nose and hair tied in a bun, painting various scenes that worked their way across her mind. The sound cut through the noise of her speaker, and she halted the dulcet sounds of Sinatra with a worried frown on her face.

Maybe he had a bad case, she thought. It was rare but common for him to come to her seeking comfort, or a distraction from whatever was playing on his mind. After all, that’s what (maybe) girlfriends did.

She pulled the wooden door open, meeting the eyes of the genius. His whiskey coloured eyes stood out from his unusually pale skin, red streaks piercing the sclera. His cheeks were blotchy, contrasting harshly against the purple scarf thrown over his collarbones. He was disheveled. Unusual for the doctor.

She offered a small smile, stepping aside to let him enter; a silent permission.

His heavy feet carried himself to the lounge, and he sat as best he could with his slumped and ragged posture. He opened his mouth to talk, but no words came out.

A strangled sound, a mix between a sob and a sigh tore from his throat, and Y/N launched herself onto the seat beside him. Tears streamed down his face, and she swung her arms around his neck. His face buried into her shoulder, but she didn’t need to see him to know how much he was hurting. The way he grabbed at her shirt so tightly, as if he were afraid of her leaving him.

“Spence, honey, what happened?” She whispered softly, petting his hair as he struggled to regain his breath. He was silent for a minute, composing his voice and hoping to let the words out in complete.

“I, um, one of my friends passed away. I hadn’t spoken to him in a while and now-“ he choked on another sob, refusing to lift his head “- now he’s gone.”

Y/N tightened her arms around him, “Oh, baby, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

She felt him sigh against her, sniffling heavily. She could feel that her shirt was damp, but she had not a single care.

He had lost friends before. He was at her house every night for three weeks after the loss of his friend Emily, and another three when he found out that she faked her death. Y/N had been there to hold him through it all - back when they were just friends.

Now, she felt a deeper connection to the genius, with no idea if he felt the same. And it broke her heart to see him so shattered.

“Do you want to talk about him? I’m here to listen whenever you’re ready, Spence.” She has allowed him to raise his head, retracting her hand from his hair. Even with tears streaming and snot clogging his nostrils from the aggressive sobs, he still looked magnificent in her eyes. A picture she would love to paint.

“I hadn’t heard from him in so long. He was off, enjoying his retirement. He lost his girlfriend and sort of just took off to figure himself out.” A shaky breath, eyes fixed on his long fingers. “I know I didn’t keep in contact with him, but I guess... I guess I always knew he was out there. If I needed him, I could try and turn to him.” A sniffle, a small smile as Y/N rubber her hand along his back softly. He had risen into a seated position next to her, now. “Now... there’s nothing. I’ll never see him alive again.”

Y/N rested her hands on the sides of his face, brushing his long hair away from his eyes. The tear stains matting his hair to his face. “There is never nothing, Spence. He may be gone but your memories of him are not.”

“He was my mentor,” Spencer snuffed again. “He was the one who helped me get used to the Unit. He helped me find my way into the group when he knew I was scared. He was the father I never had and I saw him. He was murdered and I saw his dead body.”

“Oh, baby...” she whispered, resting her forehead on his. His sobs had halted but she could feel the tears running down his cheeks. She had never seen him so broken, and she never wanted to see him so hurt again.

Within seconds Spencer pulled away, wiping at his eyes furiously and standing to his feet.

He was grabbing his bag from the other side of the lounge and pushing his hair away from his eyes.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. I shouldn’t have come here,” he was already walking towards the door when she stood to her feet.

Her lips set in a frown and she reached to grab his hand, “what do you mean? You’re always welcome here Spencer, no matter what.”

He simply shook his head, and she could see more tears fall from behind the curtain that his hair creates. “I shouldn’t have bothered you. You should be enjoying your night, not dealing with me. Maybe if I had have just kept in contact with him I could have prevented this-“

She placed her hands on his neck, turning his face up and towards her. He towered over her, but he still kept his gaze so low that he was staring at her feet carpet rather than at her. She wanted to look him in the eye.

“Do not ever think of blaming yourself Spencer.” She asserted. “You love him, you were there for him. He knew how to contact you. You couldn’t have changed this, my love.”

He sniffed again, hiccuping slightly, “I’m so sorry-“

“You have no need to be sorry Spencer!” She stressed again, brushing tears away with her thumbs. “You are always welcome here and you can always come to me whenever you need anything. I- I love you, Spencer.”

He inhaled softly, “you don’t need to say it just because I’m a crying mess in your living room.” He chuckled softly, a sad sound.

“Spencer Reid we have been dancing around one another for nearly five years. I am madly, and irrefutably in love with you. I don’t expect you to feel the same, nor return my feelings, but right now I need you to know that I will always be here for you, no matter what. Day, night, rain, hail, shine, you can always come to me. So please, darling, do not think you in any way could be a cause of this,” he couldn’t dispute the intensity in her eyes. He knew that every word she spoke was true. He just knew. “You are the kindest soul. You and your team would have caught his murderer and put him where he belongs. You are grieving, but you need never blame yourself.”

He pressed his lips to hers softly, allowing his love to flow through the collection.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, his voice wet with emotion. “I love you too.”

She smiled softly, hugging him as tight as she could. Just to remind him that she would always be there.

That night, he spoke to her about everything. His feelings over the past few years. His relationship with Gideon. His heartache. His loss of another father figure. His insecurities, his fear of losing another person that he loves.

She held him through it all. She stroked his hair until he fell asleep and dozed with him. Her genius needed her, and she would always be there for him. Whenever he needs a little comfort.

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