#so they can beat a kid writing on a shutter

[unchartedthelostlegacy]

i love graffiti. "comics and jazz are the only american art forms" you forgot graffiti. did you remember graffiti? That art form birthed in Philly and NYC in the early 70s by poor Black kids. that art form that spread all over the world and influenced so many. that's used without irony in commercials when they're trying to appeal to a "young urban" customer.

did you forget graffiti? that racism broken windows theory victim? that reach the establishment takes claiming that it's exclusively violent gang members throwing up those full-color pieces and wildstyle tags in the middle of the night outsmarting fifty security cameras because the billboard was ugly anyway. as if, even if it was, it wouldn't be impressive as all hell. risking brutality and fall damage so your art can occupy the space a gentrified condo named something like "Coluumna" took away from you. proving that despite only assholes affording to live here anymore there's still a soul beneath it. an animal with dripping stripes and teeth that go clack-clack tsssss

#graffiti #it's like how they claim touching a paper that had drugs on it can kill a police officer #manufactured fear of art itself because of who made it #you won't invest in addiction recovery or keeping libraries open or extracurricular programs but you'll sure as hell give cops overtime #so they can beat a kid writing on a shutter #writers have such big dick energy

[hollandorks]

haven

battinson! bruce wayne x f! reader

chapter ten

Summary: After the sudden deaths of your mother and grandmother, you’re forced to return home to Gotham…and to the man who broke your heart three years ago. Back in Bruce Wayne’s inescapable orbit, you vow to get to the bottom of your former best friend’s new cold personality. But Bruce’s secrets aren’t what you’re expecting. a

a/n: I think this is the longest I've gone without posting a chapter...it's only been like a week though, so not too bad! I also have the entire next week off and hope to get a bunch of writing done so I can keep posting frequently!

Series Masterlist

word count: 2.6k

For the first time, she wanted to kiss someone who wasn’t Bruce, and the thought didn’t make her ache.

“I can hear you biting your tongue over there,” Batman said in a low murmur a couple of hours into their stakeout. They’d been taking pictures of every person coming in and out of the bar, even if they obviously weren’t the fourth murder suspect. Y/n had wonder, over and over again, if she would even recognize the guy. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said primly as she snapped another picture. She was seated against a low wall, just her head and camera poking above the edge. It helped with the vertigo-inducing fear. Batman was standing beside her, staring down. Was he was uncomfortable, standing for so long? “I’m just taking pictures.” But she had been biting her tongue–every few minutes she wanted to ask another personal question and had to swallow it down. 

“Taking pictures and trying not to ask who I am,” he said. She smiled where he couldn’t see it and took another picture. 

“I made a promise to Gordon not to pry,” she finally admitted. 

“Ah.” He lapsed into silence again. 

They had spoken briefly in the past few hours, but not much. Mostly it was him quietly suggesting the best angle for the pictures, helping her find a spot that didn’t make her sick with fear from being up high, or asking for a turn with the camera. 

“So…watch any good movies lately?” she asked after a few minutes of silence. No one had entered or left the pub in a few minutes and the music was more of a vague vibration now that the door was shut. 

“I doubt that will be a good clue.” She couldn’t tell if he was kidding or not. 

“It’s just a question. If I was trying to figure out who you were, I’d do something to trip you up, take you off guard.” She took another picture, this time of a woman leaving the pub.

“No, I haven’t seen any good movies lately,” he said. When she turned to look at him he was turning away from her–but, there, the edge of a smile. 

“Do you have any hobbies? Or is this pretty much it?” She was burning with curiosity. Hell, she didn’t even have to get any clues about who he was. She was just as curious about him as a person. What he liked to do, why he started dressing as a bat, if he liked or disliked the same things she did. 

In the corner of her eye she saw him shrug. It was an odd gesture from a man in a mask and cape. “I sleep a lot during the day, when I can.” 

“That’s…not really a hobby.” She snorted softly. “Do you have a day job?” she asked, then, “Sorry. Nevermind.” 

A low chuckle but no answer. 

“Okay, new question,” she asked, the camera shutter suddenly too loud in the night air as the pub door closed once more. “Why did you start doing…this? I mean, Gotham’s a shithole, obviously, but…is that the only reason?” Gotham being a shithole was an understatement. It was frequently rated the top with murders per capita, or robberies, or drugs…Gotham had always been a shithole, worse than any other city in the world. But as far as she knew, it was the first time Gotham had created a vigilante. 

“I guess I just saw too many bad things,” he said after a long pause. “It made me…angry. I was so angry, I wanted to take it out on those who deserved it. One night I witnessed a mugging and beat the shit out of the guy. It felt…good. It made the anger better.” 

“So then you said, hey, wouldn’t a costume be fun?” She laughed and glanced over her shoulder at him. He was watching her but turned away again as soon as their eyes met. His hands flexed at his sides. She was hungry for more, for whatever he would give her. The article didn’t even matter anymore, not at that moment. 

“I needed a disguise, and a way to protect myself. I used to want to make criminals fear me, so I designed this.” He waved a vague hand across his chest to mean the armor. And she had to admit, it was pretty effective. She remembered that night, turning from those who would do her harm to see his hulking shadow, inhuman in the low light. 

Several questions warred for attention at once. She settled on, “Used to?”

“A lot changed last year. Fear isn’t the tool I thought it was.” 

Last year–meaning the Riddler, the flood, Falcone. 

“But you didn’t change the design,” she pointed out. The pub below them was quiet. Too quiet. 

“Why change something that works?” Again, just the edge of a smile. She wondered what it would be like to hear him laugh. To make him laugh. Something about that slight smile was familiar, like a half-remembered dream. 

Y/n shook off the thoughts. They encroached on dangerous territory she wasn’t ready to approach yet. Just like the brief moment she’d imagined kissing him. 

A burst of noise below startled her and she hurried to take more pictures. 

“So you made the uh…armor yourself?” she asked after a moment. Three men below were standing in a semicircle, shoulders taut, breath fogging in the air between them. She zoomed in further and caught each of their faces.

“Yes.” 

She hummed, impressed. “A vigilante who can sew, huh?” 

“S’not that hard,” he mumbled. Like the shrug, the mumble was endearing, at odds as it was with his vigilante getup. 

The three men all went separate directions as their conversation finished. 

“Looks like things are winding down out there,” she said after a moment. She had to bite down more personal questions. 

“We can head back,” he said. “It’s late anyways.” 

She glanced at her phone in surprise. It was after three in the morning. How had the time passed so quickly? And she still felt wide awake, like she could sit there for several more hours. But it was cold and she was surprisingly hungry. Had she even eaten dinner? 

Now that she was paying attention to the sensations, the cold and the hunger doubled. 

She stood and moved away from the edge so she could stretch. Her joints cracked like firecrackers in the night. She took a moment to study Batman, his jaw lined in the light from the neon pub sign below, the rest of him in shadow. 

She sneakily took a picture, the form of him more shadow than anything. She hurried to put the lens cap on before he could notice what she had done. 

He clicked something on his wrist and a grappling hook sprung out. She raised her eyebrows. So that was how they’d gotten to the roof. She then eyeballed his belt, full of pouches. If he had a grappling hook on his wrist, what other gadgets did he keep on his person? She imagined, briefly, digging through all of the pockets like a gleeful child. 

He hooked the device to something on the roof and yanked hard to make sure it was connected securely. Then he looked at her, expectant. 

Right. They had to get off of the roof with that flimsy little hook and cord. She inched away from him. Sweat pooled at the base of her spine. If she fell, it would hurt. Probably not kill her, but they were high enough for it to be bad. She made the mistake of glancing down. She took another step away.

“Isn’t there, um, a fire escape or something?” She looked around nervously. 

“Unfortunately not,” he said and moved even further into her space. His voice dipped. “I won’t let you fall.” 

That promise again. She nodded and closed her eyes tightly. “Fine. Do your worst. But remember, I’m not above coming back as a vengeful spirit.” 

She felt his slight chuckle through his chest as he wrapped his arms around her. “Hold on tight,” he said and his breath tickled her ear. She shivered and this time it wasn’t from fear. She opened her eyes long enough to wrap her own arms around his neck. Would it be too much to wrap her legs around him too? It would probably be weird, she realized, though it would make her feel safer. 

“Here we go,” he said and again a shiver crawled up her spine. “I’ve got you,” he added, and that same sensation swept through her gut with more intensity. 

Her stomach almost flew from her throat despite the forewarning as they dropped over the side of the building. She had no breath to scream and instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist and clung more tightly. 

There was a jolt but her body didn’t realize yet that it was back on solid ground. She peeled her eyes open and realized her nose was pressed to the underside of Batman’s jaw, her entire body wrapped around him like a vine around a tree. She could feel the faint sandpaper scratch of stubble and leaned back. 

“Um,” she said. He was standing very, very still. Finally she managed to untangle herself. She almost fell on her ass as she stumbled back. “Sorry,” she said a bit breathlessly. Her heart was beating too fast–and it wasn’t from the fear of dropping off of a building. 

“Let’s go,” was his only response. 

She cringed at his retreating back. She hadn’t meant to climb him like a tree–and in the least sexy way possible, no less. Her face was hot with embarrassment. 

She was careful not to grab him too tightly as they rode through the city. 

When they pulled into the same alley they left from, he stayed on the bike while she dismounted. 

She handed him the helmet and self consciously smoothed her hair. 

“Thank you,” she said. “I really, really needed to get away from home for a while.” 

“You’re welcome,” he said softly. He still wouldn’t look her in the eyes. She had been noticing it all night, but now she was starting to realize if it was for a reason. Did she make him uncomfortable? Or was it because she was an inconvenience to him? Or maybe he could sense the desperation coming off of her in waves. The loneliness. The craving for love, to be loved. 

“Could we–I mean, tomorrow night, if you’re going back…could I come?” The embarrassment was slimy inside of her, heating her chest and neck and cheeks. She knew it sounded needy, but she didn’t care. “If you aren’t busy, I mean.” 

He met her eyes for the barest second before looking away again. “I’ll text you.” 

She grinned then it faded. “Right,” she said, because it was certainly a lie. He didn’t like to text, and he probably didn’t want her around. She would probably end up calling Gordon or texting Martinez to take her to the all night diner. 

“I’ll watch until you’re inside,” Batman said with a nod towards Wayne Tower. 

She closed her eyes for a second then nodded. “Thanks again,” she said. 

She turned and walked home with a new weight dogging her steps. Wayne Tower used to be a haven for her. But now it was a prison. A prison that kept her safe, sure, but a prison nonetheless. A prison made of grief and pain and desolation. 

It wasn’t until the doors shut behind her that y/n heard the distant roar of a motorcycle start up. 

When the elevator doors slid open upstairs, she almost ran into Alfred. She jumped and stepped back. 

“Alfred,” she said in surprise. Her muscles clenched, fight or flight instincts kicking in automatically. It was like being caught sneaking out in high school all over again. 

“Blake told me you left several hours ago,” Alfred said. He crossed his arms and widened his stance. He’d ditched his cane, too. Another power move. “I was worried.” 

She winced. “Sorry. I, um…was hanging out with Batman, actually.” It sounded like a lie to her own ears. 

Alfred’s surprise was immediate. “...Batman?” 

“Yep. I called Gordon because I was going stir crazy but he and Martinez both worked a double shift. So…Batman took me on a stakeout.” She chewed her lip then shrugged lamely. 

“And…how was that?” Alfred’s tone was odd. Too…tight. Too careful. She eyed him suspiciously. She knew him well enough to know something was off, but couldn’t quite put her finger on it. 

“Fine. He doesn’t talk much.” She slipped out of her jacket. The heat inside the tower felt delicious on her cold skin. She was going to take a very, very long shower with the water as hot as it could go. 

“I see,” Alfred said. He rubbed a hand over his face and his posture relaxed. Hers did, too. She wasn’t in trouble, at least. Then she silently reminded herself she was a grown woman and hadn’t actually been sneaking out. “Well, next time, please let me know. I was worried.” 

His expression softened further and y/n realized all at once that Alfred looked…older. There was more gray in his hair and beard and more wrinkles in the corners of her eyes. For some reason, the realization conjured the memory of her grandmother. The sadness wasn’t a surprise, but that didn’t mean it hurt any less. Alfred was getting older, and she didn’t like how that thought made her feel. 

“I’m sorry,” she said softly and had to blink away tears. “Really. I just–Being here–I can’t just–” 

Alfred reached out and squeezed her arm. He smiled gently, if sadly. “I understand. Too many memories.” 

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. She couldn’t tell him that it was memories of Bruce that were painful now. That it was being near him, dreaming of him, having to remember one of the worst nights of her life, that drove her away.

“I’ll tell you next time. We might actually go tomorrow night, too. I was taking pictures for him. On the stakeout.” She held up the camera and shook it lightly. “I’m sorry I made you worry.” 

Several emotions flickered across Alfred’s face, too fast for her to decipher. He finally smiled. “Now, that’s something I’ve heard before.” 

She smiled back. As a teen, she was always very sorry when she got caught. Then she’d just do it again. Half the time, she would whine that Bruce had snuck out too, to try and get him into trouble. That rarely worked. 

“I actually mean it this time.” 

Alfred laughed. “Now that’s new.” He squeezed her upper arm one more time. “You should get to bed. It’s late.” 

“What about you?” she asked, because she had definitely noticed Alfred being awake at all hours of the night. He wasn’t even in his pajamas, for god’s sake. He was still in a smart suit sans the jacket, pocket watch chain glimmering in the light of the foyer table. 

“Who’s to say I’m not up early?” He winked. “Goodnight, y/n.” 

She narrowed her eyes, conceding the point. “Goodnight.” 

Somehow, it was easy to fall asleep. Her mind was more at ease than it had been in days. 

She had the same dream that night, only it was the Batman in the bed with her, mask still on, but with his hands bare. They slid up her body, his mouth hot on her neck, the warmth of him seeping through the armor that dug into her back. 

She woke sometime around noon in a cold sweat. 

There was a text from Gordon waiting. 

Stay home tonight. Another woman was shot. 

All of the desire left her body in a rush, leaving a cold fear in its wake. A mixture of guilt and relief roiled within y/n. Another woman was dead because of her. But it also meant that they still hadn’t figured out who she was. It meant she still had some time. 

She closed her eyes as the room began to spin. 

How many more women would die? 

And how much time did that buy her before she was next?

Next Chapter

taglist:

@ktficworld @grunge-n-roses5 @anon-cat-posts @projectdreamwalker @warsaur @lachillona02 @crazyunsexycool @doetic @alexiris @that-girl-named-alex @harry-bowie-mercury @vaniasagitaa @widows-writings @missing-loki @exactlyelegantwizard @miriamnox @mavenmoon @eclipsedplanet

#battinson x reader #bruce wayne x reader #the batman x reader #batman x reader #battinson #the batman #the batman 2022 #bruce wayne #robert pattinson #haven #haven fic

[my2phetaliaheadcanons]

I'm choosing tragedy today. Can I have Yandere allies with a darling that's pregnant ( by them ). She's been trying her best to make it work with them ( but the Yanderes can tell that it's not out of love, it's out of the fact that they'll be having a kid soon ), but it's very hard for her. Soon the stress of being kidnapped and forced to do things against your will caught up to the darling. It caused her to miscarriage. They can remember that dreeded day. The darling was streaming, yelling at that it was all their fault and they had killed their baby with their sick fantasy. From that day on, the darling grew cold and bitter towards them. It's gotten to the point they hardly ( if at all!!! ) considers their existence, and it seems that they'll never let up. I need something very angst-y and depressing please.

FYI: This one is heavy. It took me almost a year to write for this one and I wanted to do it justice. So, I hope it was worth the wait. 

Night’s freezing rain beat like a lover’s wounded heart against the old roof. The gentle, constant thrum mixed with the squeak of an old glider were the only sounds that filled the dark nursery.

(Y/N)’s unsteady rocking matched the wet, glazed look in her (E/C) eyes as the empty, white cradle hypnotized her.

Its somber whispers coiled around her. Reminding her of what she had lost, and what could never be. Her damaged fingernails cracked as she dug into the stained wood as the dark thoughts continued. How HE had taken the one drop of pure sunlight that had appeared in months.

A shrill creak accompanied by a harsh beam of white light broke the tormentor’s fantasy. (Y/N) didn’t react, only gliding in the cushioned chair.

Softly, he called her name. A gentle plea for her attention, reaction, anything to prove that his beloved was still alive.

The repetition of her name and pet names grew as his thunderous, slow steps grew closer. Her own frustration bubbled up in the form of dark tears. A low dog-like growl grew from her throat the closer he came.

When his hand touched the chair, stopping the sway. (Y/N) snapped.

“GET OUT!” She stood, barring her teeth. “You have no right to mourn for what you killed! For what you’ve taken from me!”

Wailing, (Y/N) continued her verbal gnashing. Letting the disgusting flood waters flow from the haunted swamp it had been trapped in.

As the tears began to shutter like the slow change of the tide, (Y/N) laid one more verbal sting. “I never loved you.” She laughed hysterically. “The only thing you were good for was being a sperm donor!”

America: The black, leather gloves wrinkled harshly against Allen’s fists. His teeth clicked as he ground them like metal gears forced to a sudden stop.

“I’m” His hand tightened on the glider.” tired of your shit!” The chair clattered and splintered as the force of the push caused it to become embedded in the nursery wall.

Gasping, (Y/N) attempted to stagger back yet Allen followed, offering her no relief. Closing the gap until they were only a hair apart. His finger bruised her breast as he jabbed into the supple flesh.

“He” Allen’s voice wavered as tears pricked his eyes like pins. “Was my son too, and for a time we were happy. You accepted me as your husband. And we WILL be happy again.”

Allen backed up; his flushed face paired with pained tears. “Just give me more time.”

Canada: Matt was silent and stiff as the words reverberated off the nursery walls like a mortuary bell.

(Y/N) watched as he inhaled deeply, filling his lungs to the point that the bandages around his chest strained to hold the powerful muscles back. He spoke with the exhale; frustration leaking into his tone like a cracked dam ready to burst.

“I understand your hurtin, Maple. But there ain’t any reason to take it out on me.”

Guffawing in shock, (Y/N) could only gasp before she began to spit her venom like a spited Sahara serpent. Numbering her woes like the course, grains of sand in a blood-red desert. Hissing as she described how each moment of forced obedience was as if he stroked her thin skin with a Cholla cactus, leaving slivers of spines and ruby rivers in its wake.

“ENOUGH!”

His roar shook the room, ceramic figurines tinkled as they rattled, and books shifted on shelves as (Y/N) was silenced mid-word.

Still, as the nursery statues, (Y/N) remained frozen as Matt stalked closer. Their eyes locked as predator and prey.

Matt’s heavy breathing fanned her paling face. Whispering, “Enough”. Scarred hands cupped (Y/N)’s face, leading her closer to him. Foreheads softly bumped as they touched. “I get it, Maple. It hurts, and that pain will never go away. But I will remain, even as you fight me, to ease that pain.”

France: (Y/N)’s eyes widened as she slapped a hand against her (L/C) lips. She whimpered like a scared child at the realization of her grave mistake.

She had dared to insult her tormentor. The man that claimed love, but instead showed obsession. A man that privately destroyed anyone that dared to injure his pride.

When François sighed, (Y/N) flinched. Muscles tense for pain and punishment, but he made no move to her. Instead, the frumpy Frenchman reached into his back pocket, seeming not affected by his wife's sharp insults.

He shuffled for a moment before revealing a box of blue and white box Gauloises cigarettes and a simple, black, Zippos lighter. With a quick flick and click, François lit the cancer stick and lifted it to his lips. Taking a long, slow drag before letting the smoke blow like a dragon’s fire.

“Cher,” His voice rumbled like a car driving on gravel. “Are you done?”

“No-o. I’ll never be done.” (Y/N) choked on her whimpers as she backed up shakily. “I’ll always hate you.”

Another sigh from François, this one heavier like a man tired of fighting an uphill battle as he made his way to her glider. The chair creaked as his weight fully settled into it.

The calloused hand with the lit cigarette was outstretched. Inviting her into his lap. (Y/N) didn’t move, only shaking further as she pushed herself against the bars of the white cradle.

“Come, to me Cher. Let’s dream of what our life could have been had our bébé remained with us.” His hand remained out, fingers and palm relaxed further. “And when you are ready, we can try again, but we will never forget our first.”

England: As her final syllable echoed off the pastel, nursery walls, Oliver's look of shock slowly morphed into something more sinister. His cool, blue eyes darkened into the pink slits of an angered Cheshire cat, while his lips rose to show off the large, sharp canines that looked ready to paint themselves with her blood.

“Now, Poppet.” He purred tightly. “Let’s not ruin tonight by acting like the last few months haven’t been wonderful. After all.” His smile sharpened. “I have quite the surprise in store.”

(Y/N) scoffed challengingly as she looked away. Her wet eyes burned holes in the white carpet as she dropped her voice down to a choked whisper. “We weren’t happy. It was a lie to keep my child safe. And now they're gone.”

Oliver’s hardened stare softened. “Not quite dearest.”

As the pastel-dressed man stepped to the left. he revealed a small child standing in the doorway. The light from the hall creating a small halo around their head. The fluffy hair on top of his little head appeared to be made of the softest strawberry-blond silk that curled at the top of his ears. His pale, freckled face was flushed red as his (E/C) eyes bubbled with unshed tears.

(Y/N) noticed that his lips trembled as his tiny hands nervously tugged at the corduroy overalls. Never looked at her, but at the floor, as he slowly shuffled away from their captor.

“Oliver, where did you get this child?”

The questioned man smiled. Though, this one was different from the tight one given moments before. This one was still large, but genuine, warm like the end of a summer day. Somehow that sent a chill colder than the winds of hell down (Y/N)’s spine.

“Poppet, don’t you recognize our son?”

Russia: As (Y/N)’s shout turned to silence; she sneered at her captor. Arms crossed and teeth bared like a starving dog in a fighting ring ready to resist any punishment Viktor would lay.

 Instead of the monotone lecture and bruising grasp of his bare hands, Viktor was silent and still. His frown was slight, but his eyes told a silent tragedy. His dull crimson irises appeared darker than normal, almost lifeless by the heavy, purple bags that hung underneath them. His brown hair was unkept rather than the neat sweep of its usual style.

“Милый,” He rumbled with a deep sigh, “I, understand that I am at fault. I caused you too much stress.” Viktor moved closer to (Y/N), his heavy winter boots sinking into the plush carpet with each step. “Destroyed your health to the point your body could no longer maintain our child.”

On Viktor went, rattling off minor inconveniences as if they were deadly poisons that lead to the death of their child. Each one sent (Y/N) further back until her back smacked against the wall. Her cold hands clawed against the painted material searching for something to put between her and the mad beast.

A loud slam against the wooden wall resonated through the room as Viktor placed his hands against the wall. (Y/N) froze, trapped by the large arms of her ‘husband’. Their eyes were locked, red ones full of grief and stress while the (E/C) eyes contained only fear.

His whispers of atonement only increased her fear. Killed her belief that she would ever be free.

China: (Y/N) watched Jin’s eyes shut as he took a deep breath. Then another, his hands curling into tight fists before releasing in time with his breathing.

Like the slow ticking on a clock before a big event, his breathing eventually steadied. His red eyes opened like the heavy, iron gates of castles in eras past.

The tranquil rose-red garden that once lay within his eyes was no more. Withered and greyed flowers were what now remained inside. Almost like the weight of loss had begun to reveal Jin’s true age.

“I know, but will you still join me at her memorial?”

"Memorial?" 

"Yes, Qin. Though she never made it to this plane." Jin's breath shuttered as he held back tears. "She still deserved to be honored as if she did."

He held out his hand toward her. A broken smile on his lips as he silently urged her to take his hand. To begin the process of healing. 

Quietly, (Y/N) opened her mouth. No sound left her, not even the squeak of a syllable. She shook her head, licking her lips as she lifted her hand. Hesitantly placing it into his. 

"Ok."

#2p canada #2p china #2p russia #2p england #2p hetalia #2p america #2p france #2p allies #2p yandere #yandere hetalia #yandere

[fanficimagery]

Miss Knowles, Secret Agent pt. 1

After years of not being in contact with your sister, you seek her out and hope all can be forgiven. Of course, when things are going well, your past comes waltzing into Charming.

PART ONE | PART TWO

Words: 7.1K  Author's Note: SOA!AU because that's how I roll. I love Gemma to an extent, but I don't want to write her or Clay. So for this, Jackie-boy is President of the MC.

Charming, California is.. not quite as charming as you had expected. It's a quaint little town and all, but it's not a place you pictured your sister living in. Yet here you are, being dropped off down the street from where the address you had found for your sister said she resided.

Hoisting the strap of your duffel bag higher onto your shoulder, you take off down the street. Her house is easily found- single story, painted off-white with blue shutters and green bushes lining the front windows. There's a single car and a motorcycle in the driveway, and you allow yourself a moment to cheer on your sister for hooking up with a biker. All the research you did on Tara led you down the rabbit hole that consisted of a MC called the Sons of Anarchy, and well.. you were impressed. You knew your sister had a bit of grit about her, but you didn't think she had that much to associate with people like the Sons. But oh well. You weren't here to judge.

As you walk up to the front door, you hesitate briefly before knocking. It's been years since you've last seen Tara- the last time being when you were still a teen- and you have no idea what this reunion is going to be like. You hoped for the best, but you knew there was a chance she'd be truly pissed at you for falling off the face of the Earth.

Taking a deep breath, you allow your knuckles to rap against the wooden door and then take a couple of steps back. Seconds slowly tick by before the door is being pulled open and you swallow at the sight of Jax Teller. Oh yeah, his mugshot did him no justice. Your sister was one lucky bitch. "Can I help you?" He asks, raising an eyebrow at you.

"I, uh, yeah. I hope," you say as you obviously look him up and down. He grins at your stammering. And possibly at your ogling. "I'm looking for Tara."

His grin falters. "What's your business with Tara?"

You exhale softly and meet his gaze. "I'm her sister."

"Bullshit."

You snort and then immediately wince at your reaction. Jax is not impressed. "I am. Ask her. I've just been kind of.. off grid."

You're trying to make yourself appear as non-threatening as possible and you feel you must have hit the nail on the head because he leans back into the house and calls out, "Tara?", over his shoulder.

When he stares back at you, you cross your arms over your chest and glance down, scuffing the toe of your shoe on the porch.

"Yeah, babe?" You glance back up at her voice, biting the inside of your cheek in worry when you lay eyes on her in the flesh. Her gaze darts from her husband to you, giving you a double take as she stumbles to a halt. "YN?"

You smile uneasily as Jax glances between the two of you. "Hiya, sis."

She stumbles forward, catching herself on her husband's arm. "I thought you were dead. No one could-"

"I'm sorry," you blurt. "I never meant to-" Your voice cracks and you pause, shaking your head as if that would clear away your emotions as you glance at your feet once more. You take a beat and then swallow down the lump in your throat. "I just- I needed to see you," you say while looking up once more. "To let you know that I was alive."

"Y-You're leaving?"

"If you w-want me to. I'm sure you're pissed-"

"No!" You blink in surprise at Tara as she stumbles out of the house, onto the porch and reaches for you. Her hands cradle your face and you hate that your eyes sting at the kind gesture. "Are you kidding? You're alive. You're here. I want to know everything."

You chuckle and reach up to wipe away a falling tear. "I can't tell you everything, but I will tell you what I can."

"What does that even- no, you know what? We'll talk inside," she says. Tara ushers you inside her house and you smile faintly at Jax who's keeping a close eye on you. She leads you to the kitchen and you set your duffel bag down on the floor by your feet as you take a seat at the table. "Do you want anything to drink?"

"I'm good. Thanks though," you tell her. As she and Jax take a seat across from you at the table, you can't help but smile when Jax reaches into the back waistband of his jeans and pulls out a gun that he lays on the table.

"Jesus Christ, Jax!" Tara jerks away from the table. "What the hell are you doing?!"

"It's fine, Tara-"

"No, it's not fine!" She yells, glaring at you and then at her husband.

"It wouldn't be the first time I've been threatened with a gun. It's fine," you assure her.

That stops your sister short and she glances at you in surprise. "What?"

You shrug and clasp your hands atop the table. "What does Jax know of me?"

"Not a goddamn thing," he says. He scoffs when Tara has the audacity to look ashamed. "I've known Tara my entire life and not once did she mention anything about a sister."

"That's fair." Taking a deep breath, you decide to explain your relationship to Tara so her husband can understand, and then explain a bit about why you've been off grid. "So, uh, Tara and I share the same shitty dad. My mom had me when Tara would've been ten and then fled with me to the East coast."

"I only knew a bit about her," Tara says softly. "Couple of letters here and there every year, and then we finally met up when I left after graduation."

You smile at the memory. "Before anything else is said, can I just say how happy I am that you two found your way back to each other?" Jax frowns at you, so you explain. "Tara was really heartbroken when she left. Kept moaning on and on about some boy named Jax."

Jax's stern expression quickly morphs into one of amusement as he glances at Tara and she rolls her eyes at him. "Whatever. We're not talking about me. We're talking about YN."

"Right." Your amusement fades. "Anyway, I ended up in New York."

"I remember that," Tara says. "Nursing program, right?"

"Yeah. I was doing good there too," you say, "and then one day I just- I found myself in a rough spot," you admit, vaguely telling them the truth. "I struggled for a while and it ended up with some people getting hurt."

"Jesus," Tara mumbles. "Why didn't you ask for help?"

You shrug as your eyes fill with tears. "It was bad, Tara. Really bad."

"What happened?"

"I can't- I literally can't say," you tell them. "NDA's were involved."

Jax sits a little straighter. "What the fuck?"

"But it's okay now. It's all fine," you're quick to assure them. "Some people took me in and helped me get back on track."

"Who?"

You slowly smile as you sniffle. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"Try me," Jax muses. Tara's gaze darts between you and him like she's watching a tennis match.

"Avengers." Jax barks out a laugh of disbelief, but you merely raise an eyebrow at him. "I'm being serious. That's why NDA's were involved," you tell him. "Some shit went down and they got me out of trouble. Tony Stark even offered me a job to keep me out of trouble."

"A job in what?" Your sister asks.

"Assistant nurse on the medical wing. I eventually became trusted enough that they let me on other levels of the tower and got to help out in the science department, just being a gopher for them since I didn't understand anything they were working on."

"You worked alongside the Avengers and you left all that to come to Charming?" Jax asks. "Why?"

You shrug. "It gets tiresome when the building is under attack every other week, not to mention the extraterrestrial visitors. I needed some normalcy back in my life."

"Well Charming is pretty normal."

Suddenly the sound of a child crying out pierces the quiet of the house and Tara immediately gets up. You smile as she rushes away and Jax says, "That's Abel. He's my son, but Tara really stepped up when I needed it. He only knows your sister as his mother."

"That's one lucky kid," you muse. "Tara's the best."

"Yeah she is." Jax slowly smiles and you chuckle at his lovestruck expression.

You and Jax fall into a comfortable silence in your sister's absence, and then a handful of minutes later she's returning. "Sorry about that. Abel got a bit fussy, but he's asleep again."

"That's fine," you tell her. "I should actually get going anyway. I need to grab a motel room."

"What? No way," Tara says. "We have a perfectly good couch you could-"

"I appreciate that, I really do," you say, cutting her off. "But you and Jax have a lot to think about."

"Think about?" She frowns. "What would we have to think about?"

"About whether or not you guys want me here in town."

Jax tenses. "Why wouldn't we?"

You sigh and tell him. "Full disclosure here, when I looked up my sister I found out a lot of shit."

He leans forward in his seat, hand next to his gun. Tara sees it, worriedly glancing between the two of you. "Shit like what?"

"I think you know. Tara's files were connected to everything that mentioned the Sons of Anarchy, so I did a little digging to see what I was walking into. Rest assured though," you say when a look of fury passes over his features, "that everything I found out, I scrubbed from my laptop. I don't care what you guys or the club has done in the past or will do in the future. I'm honestly just here to make up for lost time with my sister." Tara's surprised expression is more acceptable than Jax's curious one. "So.. you guys think about it and if you're not comfortable with me being here, I'll leave."

A strangled noise escapes from Tara's throat, but she snaps her mouth shut. Jax glances at her, holds her gaze, and then sighs. "You swear nothing you were involved in will blow back on my family or club?"

"I'm not runnin' from anyone," you assure him. "I didn't do anything to piss anyone off, nor is anyone looking for me. I honestly just got tired of all the hustle and bustle of New York, and being friends with Avengers. I just want to get to know my family."

Jax sighs and rubs a hand down his face. "Fine. You're on probation though."

"Jax-"

"No, Tara. Until we can trust YN, your interactions are all going to held at the clubhouse. And if you want to go out, you're gonna have escorts."

"Jesus-"

"That's fine." You smile at your clearly agitated sister. You cut her off before she can tell her husband anything. "Really, it's fine. I know some shit I'm not supposed to and they want to keep an eye on me to make sure I don't rat. I'm okay with that." The fight drains out of your sister. "So now that we've established that, I really have to go. Do you have a pen and paper so I can leave you guys my number?"

Tara gets up and goes to a drawer, getting exactly what you asked for. You write your number down for them, and then she writes down hers and Jax's.

"Do you have cash for a motel room?" Tara asks.

"Yeah. Stark Industries paid really well. I'm all set."

"Well okay then."

An awkward silence falls over the three of you and you nervously chuckle. "So I'm gonna go."

As you stand up, Jax and Tara follow suit. On your way outside, you make a phone call to the local cab company and then stop on the porch to face your sister. "Call or text me when you're free, yeah?"

"Of course." Tara stares at you for a moment before she pulls you into a hug and you laugh as you wrap your arms around her. "I'm so glad you came looking for me."

"Ditto. I've missed you." A car out by the curb honks and you sigh. "And that's my cue. See you."

"See you."

When Tara calls you on your second day in Charming, she picks you up from the motel room and heads over to Teller-Morrow Automotive. She explains that the building attached to the automotive garage is the clubhouse for the Sons of Anarchy, and since Jax was wary of you then that's where the two of you had to hang out.

When you popped up on their property for the first time, Jax introduced you to his brothers. You could tell he told them that you knew some stuff about them, but no one dared threaten you.

You and Tara got to catch up out by the picnic tables, she telling you all about her career path and you yours. She tries to get some more information about the rough patch you went through, but you only gave her vague answers. Eventually, one of the Sons who went by the name Juice joined you and you couldn't help but feel he had ulterior motives. And you were proven correct when you saw him subtly try to maneuver his phone around your purse.

"If you're looking for any type of recording device, you won't find any," you had told him. Juice had frozen and Tara rolled her eyes when she realized what he was doing. "But if it'll make any of you feel better, feel free to dig through my belongings. I'll even let you wave your phone over my body, inch by inch, if you want to."

Juice's eyes had widened and Tara snorted. "I, um, that won't be-"

"For real. Have at it." You opened your purse and planted it directly in front of him. "I have nothing to hide."

Juice had looked at your sister, wincing apologetically. "Sorry, Tara, but we really need to make sure."

Tara had looked like she wanted to argue, but you really had nothing to hide. So you let Juice go through your belongings, searching for any type of listening or recording device that wasn't there. And when nothing turned up and your story seemed to check out, you were finally allowed inside the clubhouse.

Of course, though, before you step foot into their domain, Tara explained the rules of the MC world. She explained how the hierarchy around there worked, but while you understood the men were ranked differently, you were more interested in the hierarchy among the women. Croweaters, or sweetbutts, were what the men all referred to as free pussy. You had wrinkled your nose at the term and Tara completely understood, but you apparently had to know what you were walking into. Tara was Queen Bee and all the women answered to her, but the veteran croweaters would see you as competition. Tara promised to keep the drama from you as long as she could, but she mentioned it was only a matter of time before a confrontation occurred. And if said confrontation ever occurred, you were well within your rights to put a bitch in her place to prevent further confrontations. Jax's only stipulation was that you didn't kill anyone. Women business was women business, but the club did not need the cops investigating a death on the premises. You agreed.

The Sons soon became used to your presence in the club, though you did tend to stay away from their Friday night parties. You had been approached by nearly everyone- Tig tried only once to get into your pants before both you and Tara shut that shit down- and made friends with a few. However, your favorite, by far, has been Juice. Of course, you really liked your brother-in-law, but you couldn't help but feel that he was just waiting for you to slip up.

On one of the shop's slow days, Jax orders some of the lower ranking members and Prospects to watch the garage while everyone else slinks off to the clubhouse to start winding down for the day. You were already there when they walked in, waiting for Tara to get off work, sitting on the couch with your feet propped up on the coffee table and laptop in your lap. You've been in the cheap motel for too long now and you were looking for a place to call your own since Tara didn't want you going anywhere. And Juice, being the only other person in the club who knew his way around technology, was sitting next to you with his own laptop and digging through information on the houses you'd been looking into.

"Any luck?" Jax asks, sitting across from you on another couch, beer in hand.

"Eh." You shrug. "Found a few places, but Juice has been vetoing them."

"I love Charming, but our locals are seriously trying to rent out places that are in need of major fixes."

"Aren't 'ya swimmin' in cash, lass? Build. Or better yet, ask that Stark fella to lend a helpin' hand," Chibs muses.

"Nah."

"I don't know. If I had a billionaire for a friend, I'd be asking for all sorts of favors," Opie says.

You glance up from your screen, narrowing your eyes on the bearded Son. "Are you guys still on that? Just because I don't hold phone conversations with them on the regular, doesn't mean I don't personally know them. They're very busy people."

"Bullshit." Tig calls out. "I think you just threw out some big names so we would tread carefully around 'ya. Or just to make yourself look cool."

You pinch the bridge of your nose, sighing.

"What? What'd I miss?"

Your sister's voice calms you. "These idiots still think I don't know the Avengers."

"Well.."

You quickly glance at Tara. "You too?!"

"I'm sorry!" She laughs as she takes a seat next to you. "You can't just name drop those names and have nothing to show for your friendship with them."

"Phones are easily hacked! I wasn't about to have pictures with them and then have those pictures end up in the wrong hands."

"I got twenty that says she doesn't actually know them," Happy says. You gape at him, the stoic biker not one for many words. At least not when you were in the room.

"Seriously?"

"I'll take that bet," Chibs says. He pulls a twenty from his kutte pocket and throws it on the table.

You glance between those sitting around- Jax, Opie, Bobby, Tig and Juice tossing down cash as well. Chibs, Bobby, and Juice were the ones who thought you were telling the truth about the Avengers, whereas Happy, Jax, Opie and Tig thought you were spewing bullshit. Tara, however, was on the fence. She wanted to believe you, but she wanted proof.

"Fine. Fine!" You grit out, scowling at the Sons. "I'll make a video call, but I can't guarantee it'll be answered."

Jax smirks. "Of course. Go ahead."

Closing out of your opened tabs, you pull up your video calling app. Out of everyone, you figured Tony would be your best bet since he never cared to stay focused on his work unless it was super fuckin' important. So after leaning forward to place your laptop on the coffee table, you hit Tony's icon and sit back while it rings.

The Sons start to smirk as the fourth ring goes unanswered, but by the sixth when your call is answered, it's your turn to smirk.

"Shortstack! You called!"

"Hey, Tones."

From one moment to the next, the Sons are all scrambling out of their seats to stand behind the couch you're sitting on. Tara and Juice gape at the screen, and you can see the sparkling amusement in Tony's eyes. "What's up? You need me to be the Daddy Warbucks to your Annie again?"

Your nose wrinkles. "Why does that sound so gross?" Your question goes unanswered and you shake your head. "And no. Just thought I'd call and say hi. And to appease these morons around me. They didn't believe I was set up with superheroes while I was in New York."

"Ahh. Got 'ya." You can see his gaze dart to your sister. "So you must be the other Knowles. Nice. Your shitty father made hot daughters."

Tara barks out a laugh. "Uh, thanks."

"Mhm." His gaze then darts all over the screen. "And you gentlemen must be those outlaw bikers I know absolutely nothing about."

The Sons all around you tense and your eyes narrow at the screen. "Tony.."

"What?" He feigns innocence. "I said I know nothing."

"You're not Jon Snow. You know everything, don't you?"

"Oh, would you look at that? I think Pepper-"

"Anthony Edward Stark!"

"Fine. I got bored on day two of your absence and did some research on your sister. I made the connections you no doubt did, after all I taught you everything you know, and ate all the bags of popcorn as I read through their files. They're fascinating people. I definitely need to meet them in person."

You exhale tiredly. "Goddammit, Tony. You promised not to stick your nose in places it doesn't belong."

"Whatever. Natasha's impressed. She wants to meet them too. We all have our bets on which biker you've already bedded."

You choke on nothing but air as the Sons slowly start to loosen back up, chuckling. "What?! I'm not sleeping with anyone."

"Really? I had my money on Lowman. He looked like the scariest one and after you had that thing with Barnes-"

"What!?" Your sister cuts in. You can feel your face heat up and Tony smirks at you through the screen. "Did you have sex with a national icon, YN?"

"Maybe." She gasps and you groan. "But it wasn't with Barnes. He was a tough nut to crack." Tony laughs. "I, uh, I defiled the other national icon."

"You boned Captain America?" Jax asks, eyebrows raised in surprise. "Nice."

"Can we move on, please? I didn't call to talk about my sex life."

"But it's such a fun topic. By the way, Natasha has her money on Ortiz. She said you wouldn't be able to resist that goofy smile of his for long."

From your peripheral vision, you see Juice face you. You see his lips stretch wide and you shake your head. "Not a word."

"What?" This time is Juice's turn to feign innocence.

The Sons chuckle all around you as you glare at Tony. "Thanks for that, Tin-Man-"

"You're welcome."

"-but now I'm gonna go since you've started shit I'm gonna have to deal with for the next couple of weeks. A bunch of these assholes didn't believe I knew you, so now that their curiosity is sated, my job is done."

"Sure. See you, Shortstack."

As soon as you end the call, Juice leans forward to collect the cash from the table and divide it up between himself, Bobby and Chibs.

"So," your sister drawls. "That was something."

"Mhm. And now that I've opened the floodgates, I'm pretty sure those calls with Tony are going to be more frequent. He's too nosy for his own good, but no worries. He won't say shit about anything he learns. He loves the drama."

"And this thing with Captain America?" You groan and your sister nudges you. The Sons all reclaim their seats, giving you their undivided attention. "How did that happen?"

You shrug. "I honestly don't know. It was only once, so don't get carried away. We were friends, we fucked and got it out of our systems, and then went back to normal."

"And what about the Winter Soldier?" Jax asks, eyes glittering in amusement. "Now that's one scary dude. Did you really try to fuck with all that?"

"Dude's a charmer when he's not on a mission," you tell him. "That fuckin' smirk of his did me in and he knew it, but he wouldn't get involved. Said he had too many enemies and couldn't risk someone catching wind of any significant other and using them against him."

"Good," Tara says.

All is quiet and then, "I don't have that many enemies. We could still-"

"Oh my god, Juice, shut up and help me find a house."

Against your will, your cheeks heat up and you do your best to not look in his direction. "That wasn't a no."

Tara snorts so hard she clamps a hand over her mouth, muffling her laughter as you try to sink in your seat and disappear.

Juan Carlos Ortiz was definitely going to be trouble, but deep down you were looking forward to it.

Juan Carlos- er, Juice- really amped up the flirting when Tony admitted that the Black Widow figured you would have slept with him by now. He really was your type and had you met him outside of the club, you probably would have slept with him. But for some reason, you felt as if the Sons were off limits and decided not to go there. Not even after Tara had given you permission since you were an adult and could handle your own shit.

But even after having that permission, you held back a bit. You let him flirt and even started to flirt back, surprising him one day when you were playing a game of pool with your sister. You knew perfectly well what you were doing, but Juice still found it necessary to bend over your back and cage in with his arms to show you how to properly handle a cue. Across the table, Tara hadn't bothered to hide her amusement as you played along, pushing your ass back into his groin and then pulling away to take the shot on the other end of the table.

And though you never said anything out loud, you did take notice of how he started distancing himself from the sweetbutts when they tried to get him to take them to his dorm in the back. Unfortunately, the sweetbutts noticed it too and didn't bother hiding their annoyance with you.

Tara ended up convincing you to buy a house instead of renting, and it was no surprise Juice helped with that as well. With his and Tara's help, you were able to find a three bedroom, two bath house and easily put in an offer that was accepted only after a few days.

So after a long day of buying furniture and setting it up in your house, Jax threw a party at the clubhouse to officially welcome you to Charming.

By midnight, the party at the Sons of Anarchy clubhouse was in full swing. Jax gave a speech and then had you do a shot with all the Sons you've become comfortable around, along with your sister. Sweetbutts worked the stripper pole and worked the floor, trying to pick up any fully patched member of the club, and you were immediately annoyed with all the glaring when Juice chose to spend some time with you at the bar.

Juice had eventually walked off to play some pool with Opie and Tara decides she needs the bathroom after one too many drinks, leaving you all alone. A Prospect behind the bar asks if you need another beer and you gladly take one. Just as you're handed your beer, your right shoulder is shoved- shoved hard enough to know it wasn't an accident. So turning on your stool, with one knee still crossed over the other, you raise an eyebrow at the group of three sweetbutts trying to intimidate you with their glares.

"Yes?" You muse. "How can I help you.." you pause, looking them up and down, and wrinkling your nose a bit to show your dislike of them, "ladies?"

"Listen, sweetheart, I think it's time you learn the rules of the MC." The blonde addressing you has too much makeup caked on her face, and it takes everything in you to not outright laugh at her. "We've put our time in here with the boys which means we get the pick of the litter. New pussy deals with the hang arounds and leaves the patched members for us."

"Is that so," you drawl. You take a sip of your beer, eyes glittering. You know you've had one too many since you're entertaining these morons.

"Yes." Your cheek suddenly stings with a slap you hadn't anticipated and your head barely moves with the force from the hit. Those around you cease all movement and noise to see how this plays out, and even the music is lowered. All eyes are on you. "Stay away from Juice."

Blondie's staring heatedly at you, your lips twitch, and then suddenly you're laughing.

Sliding off your stool, you stand next to her while addressing everyone watching on. "Listen up, sweetbutts," you call out. "I don't know what it is I did that made all of you so insecure, but you need to knock it the fuck off right now." Several of the sweetbutts scoff. "I am fed up with your petty bullshit, so consider this your first and only warning. If you approach me with the intention of warning me off a guy who is clearly not interested in sticking his dick in a party favor anymore-"

"Oh shit," someone laughs.

"-then you're going to walk off looking far worse than this skank standing next to me."

The entire clubhouse is quiet, so it's not hard to hear the mumbles of confusion. You obviously hadn't done anything to the sweetbutt standing next to you.

"Listen, you little-"

Without batting an eye, you angle your body towards the blonde sweetbutt, grab the back of her head and slam her face down on the bar. There's a sickening crack before the sweetbutt crumples to the floor and you exhale tiredly. "There's your warning," you deadpan. "If you start shit with me, you can bet your fake tits and fake tans that I'll fuckin' end it." Everyone blinks at you in surprise and you snap your fingers at the two closest sweetbutts standing next to you. "Get your friend off the floor and clean her up." They blink at you. "Now!"

The sweetbutts flinch at the tone of your voice and hurriedly collect their friend off the ground. It's your turn to glare until they're out of the vicinity and before you can take a seat, Juice is suddenly all up in your personal space, hand grasping the back of your neck and pulling your face to his.

Wolf whistles and catcalls erupt all around you as Juice controls the possessive kiss. Then when you start to pull back, you pull his bottom lip between your teeth and nip. He groans and you fully pull back then, reclaiming your stool and sipping your beer. "Still not sleeping with you, Juan Carlos."

He smiles, big and goofy, and your heart stutters as he steps between your knees, hands caging you in against the bar top. "At least not yet."

You laugh and then act as if the last couple of minutes didn't happen, but given the look Tara and Jax are giving you, it did. "Wow." Your sister drawls. "You're not even an Old Lady and these bitches are scared of you."

Jax laughs. "You're a little spitfire, huh. Now I see the resemblance to Tara."

You roll your eyes, swatting at Juice so he pulls back some. "Sorry about the-"

"Don't apologize," Jax says. "You were well within your rights. I'm proud of 'ya."

"Yeah. Me too." You meet Juice's amused gaze, letting him steal another quick kiss before you push him away.

"Alright, Juan Carlos, off you go. You staked your claim."

Juice laughs once more before he takes his leave, Jax watching his brother with amused eyes. "Juice, really?"

"Don't give me that look. I can't help it. His smile really should be considered a weapon."

Jax laughs. "Enjoy the rest of your party, sis."

You beam at him. "Will do, bro."

The next few months in Charming are some of the best months of your life. Not only do you have your sister by your side, but Juice has become a pretty solid presence in your daily life and it surprisingly doesn't bother you one bit.

You became acquainted with the MC life a bit more and, though you and Juice steered clear of the old lady label, the sweetbutts of the club learned pretty fast to not touch what everyone knew to be yours. And when other fully patched members from other charters tried to push up on you when they were visiting, Juice was quick to shut that shit down.

So, of course, when everything is going well, it's no surprise that it all quickly turns to shit.

The charter from Tacoma is set to visit in a couple of days, so you and Tara gathered all the sweetbutts to help get the clubhouse in tiptop shape. And since it was the weekend, only a handful of patched members were working the front while the others lazed about.

You are behind the bar, taking stock of the alcohol and mentioning to Tara what the club needed to stock up on when Jax saunters up to the bar.

"Hey YN?"

"Yeah?" You hum.

"Care to explain why suited up Avengers are making their way through the lot?"

"What?" Your head snaps up and you look out the door, and sure enough you spot Natasha, Wanda, Steve, Tony and Bruce making their way towards the clubhouse. And in the middle of them all Nick Fury strides confidently with his coat flapping behind him. You pale. "Fuck."

"YN?" Tara frowns. "What's going on?"

"I- I don't know." You quickly scramble out from behind the bar, rushing towards the door to meet them before they can step foot inside. Jax and Tara are not far behind you, and the other Sons are starting to close in to see what's going on.

You can't decipher anything from Steve or Natasha's expressions, but Wanda, Tony and Bruce are clearly apologetic. Fury stops just a few feet from you, uncaring for those gathering around him. "Agent Knowles," you flinch at the title, "we need-"

"No." You cut him off.

"Doll," Steve tries then and you take a step back, shaking your head.

"Not only no, but fuck no! I'm out, remember?" You bump into someone and glance over your shoulder to see Juice there, eyes dark as he glares down Steve. When you stare back forward, you nearly roll your eyes at Natasha's smug expression.

"It's a matter of Earth's destruction, kiddo," Tony says. "We need all our heavy hitters on board."

"Wait, what?" Tara says. "Heavy hitters? But my sister's not-"

"You didn't tell them," Natasha realizes.

"Tell us what?" Jax grits out.

Against your will, your eyes start to fill with tears. "I just wanted a normal life. Why did you have to-"

"YN." A hand grips your own and you're faced with a worried sister. "What's going on?"

You swallow down the lump in your throat less your voice cracks. "We need to talk." Then looking at Jax, you say, "I'm sorry. I never meant for anyone to find out this part of my life, but if you can clear the clubhouse, I'll explain. This is something I don't want just anyone knowing, so only bring in those you absolutely trust with your life."

The tendons in Jax's cheek twitches as he clenches his jaw, but Tara's hand slipping into his calms him a bit. "Fine." Jax looks out at all his brothers. "Get inside. Get the Prospects to watch the garage and send everyone else home."

Jax receives nods in return, and Tig, Juice, and Bobby start jogging around to send all the sweetbutts home and to make sure the Prospects remain in the garage and to not take on any new appointments. Fury and your friends from New York follow you into the clubhouse, looking around and taking in their new surroundings. And when you see Tony head for the bar, you sigh and grab him by the wrist before marching him over to the couches. Tara's lips twitch when she sees you scold the billionaire and he pouts in return.

After what seems like forever, everyone takes a seat. Or stands, as in Jax's case.

Opie, Chibs, Tig, Happy, Bobby and Juice are glancing around, waiting to hear just exactly what's going on that has their President looking a bit murderous.

"So, uh, you guys remember that rough patch between my nursing job and before I started working for Stark Industries? The rough patch where I told you that a group of friends helped me out of?"

Tara's eyes light up as she comes to a realization. "You said that the Avengers helped you out."

"Yeah." You gulp. "So as it turns out, I have alien DNA thanks to my mom." The room is deathly quiet and you shakily breath out. "I could have lived my entire life without ever knowing, but I was one of the unlucky individuals who was exposed to contaminated supplements."

"Contaminated how?" Tara asks.

"With terrigen crystals," you tell her. Sighing, you realize you're gonna have to explain. "There's an alien race out there that can pass for human until they're exposed to something called terrigen mist. Once exposed, their powers are activated."

"You have superpowers?!" Juice blurts. When all gazes dart to him, some annoyed and others amused, he sinks into his seat. "Sorry."

You flash him a grin and then get back to your story. "A shipment of this mist was dropped into the ocean, forming crystals among the sea life and ocean floor. Contaminated fish were caught and sold to businesses as usual. One day I was taking my daily dose of vitamins, fish oil was in there, and minutes later I was being cocooned in rock." You take a breath as that information sinks in. "I don't know how long I was stuck in stasis, but then in the next moment I was breaking free and in possession of powers so destructive that I dropped everything and ran."

"We found her," Tony says, "and took her in. She had brought down a building, took out a ring of illegal weapons dealers-"

"On accident! I just saw something I wasn't supposed to, they cornered me, I panicked and then my powers lashed out."

"Whatever," Tony huffs. "You were a complete badass and were in training to become one of us until you decided to live life like a normie."

Tara and Jax now look at you in surprise, and you shake your head. "Sure it sounds cool, but you guys didn't see what I was capable of. I was training in between my shifts in the medical wing and I nearly killed Wanda in a training session before I suited up for the first time. Wanda!" You say, pointing to the brunette in question. "She's the strongest Avenger and I nearly took her out. I wasn't safe."

Tony scoffs. "First of all, Wands isn't the-"

"Yeah, she is," you deadpan. "But anyway, I couldn't deal and decided to ask Doctor Banner if there was any way to cure what I had become. There isn't a cure for people like me, but there are suppressors. So after signing a shit load of paperwork, I asked Doctor Banner for those suppressors and wiped my hands of the superhero life."

"So you still have these powers?" Tara asks.

"Yeah. I just can't access them as long as I take the pills I was given."

"We have an injection that can reverse the pill's effects," Fury says. You freeze and glance at the Director, eyes narrowing. "Stark wasn't lying when he said we needed our heavy hitters."

"I'm a liability. Find someone else."

"There is no one else."

"Fuck that!" You snap at him. "You're Nick fuckin' Fury! Your secrets have secrets! There has to be other individuals out there that can stand against whatever's coming. Where's Thor?"

"On Asgard taking care of his people after the aliens coming here ransacked his home," Steve says. "He sent some friends to warn us of the impending danger."

"Fuck," you groan.

"Look at it this way, Agent Knowles-"

"Stop calling me that," you grit out. "I resigned."

Nick rolls his one good eye. "If you don't help and we somehow miraculously win this fight, the life you set up for yourself here goes away. This little club you've surrounded yourself in goes away." The Sons all tense in their seats, and you and Tara stare at Nick with wide, disbelieving eyes. "And then for the rest of your life you'll be looking over your shoulder for a bunch of pissed off bikers who've been thrown back into prison all because you couldn't handle your shit like a grown-up."

The Sons suddenly draw their weapons, but the Avengers and Nick merely stand there without batting an eye. The rage you feel after your friends and family have been threatened is nothing you've ever felt before, but before you can explode on the Director of SHIELD, Tara's touching your shoulder.

The tension flees your body when you see her tearfilled eyes. "Tara, I-"

"Please," she murmurs. "If not for the club, then for Abel. Whatever's going on, it sounds serious. I want my son to live a long and happy life." Your bottom lip trembles and your head hangs in shame. Tara's suddenly in front of you, arms wrapping around you as she lets you cry on her shoulder. "It's going to be okay. You have a bigger support system now. We'll help you."

After giving yourself a moment to recover and gather your thoughts, you lift your head and school your expression before turning to face Fury. "I'll do it, but on one condition."

"Name it."

"I do this, and anything and everything you dug up about those associated with the Sons of Anarchy vanishes. Anything pops up in the future, I expect you to catch it and scrub it."

The Sons all look at you in surprise and Steve looks ready to object, but Fury nods. "Done."

To be continued..

#juice ortiz x reader #juice ortiz imagine #sons of anarchy imagine #soa imagine #marvel gen fic x reader #marvel imagine #juice ortiz #tara knowles #jax teller #sons of anarchy #marvel #tony stark

[djregular]

X-Post from my Cohost: Friday's Garbage

[If you'd like to follow me at Cohost, I've been trying to put stuff there when I wanna have a think about things and go long. As an example, I wrote a little bit about JPEGMAFIA and Danny Brown's collaborative album. This was just when I was raw about bad stuff happening and Cohost just happened to be where I landed. I still stand by all of it, and got a little spicy about TTRPG/D&D Twitter discourse.]

In personal work news, which I very rarely divulge, my team has become the victim of workplace politics, and I've been informed that among my org, there's a smear campaign in progress against us. I'm unable to provide any additional context, but know that this is essentially like the bullied kid in class finding the only kid with less status than them, then picking on them. (Editor's note: I'll add a little bit of context to note that I'm actually in a position that is very directly being threatened by tech's insipid, short-sighted rush to embrace AI. I won't say where I work, but if you know, it's especially embarrassing for the company.)

Waypoint was a victim of the Vice layoffs, and they'll be shuttering after June 2nd. One of the last bastions of great video game writing among news orgs, but also a bunch of great thinkers and a (via their successful subscription service) proven draw as personalities. They beat the odds by hanging around this long, but in a just world they wouldn't have to worry about the odds at all.

TTRPG Twitter are all slap-boxing with each other over WotC's/Hasbro's usage of Pinkertons to track down and intimidate a YouTuber over "stolen" Magic cards. I've seen people speaking on behalf of influencers and freelancers (but never actual full-time employees, who also don't seem to be targets ever) that work with WotC regularly invoke "harassment campaigns" and "smear campaigns" when given the lightest criticism about continuing to take opportunities from the company in the wake of bad actions. Essentially painting anyone who might point out the ethical problems inherent in working for WotC as bullies who are punching down. On the other side, I've seen plenty of people who've made "spitting vitriol at anyone who's ever looked at Wizards" their entire personality online do things like make up people who say things like, "I think it's okay that WotC employs the Pinkertons to harass YouTubers" to get mad at. My take:

It should go without saying that for influencers and the like, y'all should be able to sit with the idea that you can't "no ethical consumption under capitalism" your way out of every time someone critiques your choices, and that people maybe not being willing to absolve you of what they perceive as an ethical lapse isn't the same as harassment.

For the folks who are doing the criticizing: 1) Acknowledge that there are assholes who are legitimately harassing people who're influencers, not because of any fervor for ethical standards, but because of all the normal shitty reasons they pick at highly visible (but often not well-paid or protected) people in the nerd hobbyist space. Don't be willfully obtuse, and maybe consider turning the bulk of your ire on people whose cheques from Wizards/Hasbro are salaried. 2) Don't lie and claim these people are really out here throwing up gang signs for WotC and explicitly advocating for their bad actions. You can pretty eloquently draw the line to them being knowingly or unknowingly complicit in them without making shit up so you can talk spicy on Twitter. "I think it sucks that you continue to associate with Wizards, even as they continually do things that are actively harmful to the hobby and its community" is pretty easy to say without making shit up. 3) Again, maybe consider what good engaging these folks does vs. actually taking aim at the C-suite folks who are really making this shit happen. But as we all know, the latter aren't nearly as visible on Twitter as the former, are they?

I hate today more than words can express, truly.

#fuck capitalism go home

[jakestravels]

Europe 2022: Guess Who’s Back?

Well hot damn, I’m writing this as I am already in Europe, because I have been so busy, so we’ll play catch-up real quick:

After my last trip, I lost my job where I worked. Well, actually, many of us lost our jobs. Okay, all of us lost our jobs: the university I worked at closed up shop after 115 years in the biz. It was heartbreaking and demoralizing. We were told in our exit conference that we could apply immediately for unemployment. And so I did. Best decision I made in a long time.

Because two weeks later, the dreaded coronavirus hit hard, stopping the planet. And many folks lost their jobs. Now I tell people that I lost my job at the beginning of the pandemic, which is true, but in actuality it had nothing to do with the pandemic. I often wonder what would have happened if the board of regents had waited a few more weeks before making the decision to shutter us. Maybe it wouldn’t have mattered. Lucky for me I beat out the wave of unemployment seekers, some of which still had not received assistance more than a year later. Times were tough, y’all.

Either way, the world sucked. Per my last posting more than a year ago, we were all up in that pandemic. And more ignorant people than I can shake a stick at. Oh well.

So I have spent the last two years working on my home, trying to make it better. And I have learned so much! I can do plumbing, electrical, drywall, the list goes on: pretty much everything except for tile and flooring.

I have a guy for that.

Anywho,I was getting burned out, and I had the travel bug. I mean, once you catch it it never goes away (a lot like Herpes, that), but I wanted to be responsible and not go out into the world just yet. But Covid numbers have been dropping. (BTW, I refuse to call it COVID, in all caps. The grammarian in me hates it, even though technically that is the correct way. It’s like all these kid musicians nowadays who either all caps their song titles or no caps at all? Like, what’s up with that? Am I old? Yeah, guess I’m old - but I digress.)

I was itching to get the hell out. And my chance presented itself: This summer, I hosted some absolutely incredible people from Germany, and they forced me to promise to come and visit. And I decided to take them up on it. So I spent my final three weeks prepping the house for AirBnb, and off I went. And the trip begins.

[goddess-of-green]

More Tobi please !!! It’s so good 😫🙌 I love ur writing so much 😊

I'm running out of Tobi gifs you guys (Part 2 here!)

Warnings: Language, suggestive themes, submissive reader

"Yay! It must be Tobi's lucky day!" Tobi exclaimed as he threw down his cards—his winning cards.

You paled.

This generally wouldn't be such a problem.

Sure, Tobi was suspiciously good at Poker when he needed to be, but you never minded when he beat you by a landslide and proceeded to gloat until one of the other Akatsuki members had to shut him up.

Although, since you didn't really want to wager money on the game -your savings had been dwindling recently and you jumped at any opportunity to save some extra Ryo- you and Tobi decided to instead, make a bet.

If you won, Tobi would be at your beck and call for 24 hours; if Tobi won, you would be at his beck and call for 24 hours.

You knew such a bet could go either horribly wrong or horribly right.

However, you hadn't really let the implications of being at Tobi's beck and call hit you until you saw that winning hand.

Tobi was completely unpredictable and a known troublemaker.

He was always 'innocently' finding ways to insult people or taunt them. You were fairly sure he had some weird sadistic hobby to see how far he could bend people before they reacted violently.

You and Tobi had meshed so well in the organization because you were extremely patient and always reacted positively to Tobi's teasing and jabs.

After a while, Tobi seemed to realize that his taunting and teasing wouldn't make you upset, so he claimed you as his "best friend" and took to following you around in his freetime, you being the only one who could handle his overbearing and deliberately annoying nature.

Tobi loved to cause trouble and make fun of people. Despite his 'innocent' nature, you knew his humor was a little twisted at best.

What the hell did I get myself into?

Tobi was giggling like madman at your expression, a hand raised to where his mouth would be to ineffectively muffle his snickers.

"Y/N-Chan's time starts now! She has to be Tobi's maid for a whole day!" Tobi cheered, throwing his arms up into the air.

You blinked.

Maid?

Fuck.

"M-Maid?" You asked, already knowing that no matter what he responded with you were screwed.

Tobi giggled a bit more, "Yep! Tobi's even got Y/N-Chan a cute little outfit to wear while she does everything Tobi desires~" Tobi explained, his amusement coming off him in waves.

Maid? 'Cute little Outfit'? Tobi's desires!? God, help me.

You sighed, "Very well, Tobi."

"Actually, Y/N-Chan...there's something else Tobi would like you to call him~"

::

Here you are, dressed in a maid outfit.

A frilly black and white choker secured around your neck and your hair down, your top doing nothing to hide your cleavage, and your skirt giving you about two inches of leeway.

If you so much as bent over, your panties would be revealed to anyone in the vicinity. To top it all off, you had a white waist apron with little frills on the ends.

It covered even less than your skirt.

Kami, where did I go wrong? What did I do to deserve this?

Your internal lamenting is brought to halt as you hear Tobi cooing at you.

"Y/N-Chan~ you look so nice, all dressed up for Tobi like this~" He put his gloved hands on your hips, pulling you closer to him as he continued to inspect your form.

You swallowed, "Thank you, Tobi~Sama." You said softly, as he had requested you call him.

You blushed in embarrassment as you said it, unintentionally making yourself look even cuter as you looked up at him through your lashes, hoping he wouldn't make fun of you.

Tobi was unusually silent as he stared at your inadvertently coy expression. His hands still on your hips, and his expression unreadable through his mask.

After a moment, he started giggling.

"Y/N-Chan is such a good little maid for Tobi~ Tobi has a feeling he's going to enjoy this very much~" Tobi purred as he brought his arms up to wrap around your waist and buried his masked face into your neck; his body snuggling into yours in the process.

You gulped as his warm body encased yours.

Is it just me or is it a little hot in here?

You would have tugged on your collar if you had one.

Tobi pulled away from the embrace with excitement as he grabbed your hand.

"Alright Y/N-Chan, you're going to make some for lunch for your master, and then we're going to play a game~" Tobi said brightly, a teasing tone slipping through his usual beaming attitude.

Something about the way Tobi said "game" raised some flags, but you complied nonetheless.

You certainly didn't want to give Tobi a reason to punish you, as he had warned.

You shuttered at the implications.

He didn't mention or signal any sort of sexual things happening, but you could never be too careful. This entire situation was more than a little suspicious.

He's already made it clear he's got a pervy side, if the outfit was anything to go by.

You sighed lowly as Tobi's hand slipped from yours and he wandered off to wait in the living area of the base while you prepared him something to eat.

"It's too bad Tobi has his mask, or he would love to have Y/N~Chan feed him~" Tobi sighed wistfully as he walked off.

Clearly talking to himself, but you were sure he meant for you to hear.

You blushed at the thought, shaking your head to rid yourself of such thoughts as you continued on your way to the Akatsuki base's kitchen.

After you finally washed your hands and got to actually making something for Tobi, you ran into a little roadblock.

You had no idea what kind of food Tobi liked, or even if he had any allergies. He rarely ever ate around you, and when he did you tried not to stare at him too much and respect his privacy.

(Even though you were definitely curious as to what lied underneath his infamous orange mask.)

Even if you had paid attention, you doubt you would have caught much anyway.

Tobi is very sneaky when it comes to keeping his face hidden, and his food is off the plate and in his mouth faster than anyone can even tell what he was eating.

"He's so annoying all the time, yeah! The least he could do is let me catch a glimpse of his damn mug for once, un!"

You smirked as you recalled Deidara's ranting.

Remembering your situation, your smirk slipped away as you considered your options.

You could take a stab in the dark and make something that Tobi may or may not like, or you could go back out and ask Tobi what he wanted.

Neither were very good options.

If you took a wild guess then you would risk Tobi either not liking what you made or having an allergic reaction to it.

The last thing you wanted was to make Tobi sick or unhappy, but going back out to ask posed its own risks.

If you went out into the living room to ask Tobi what he wanted to eat then there was a good chance one of the other members would see you.

Then, they would ask questions.

You knew that Tobi wouldn't hesitate to embarrass you and go into great detail about how you were his cute little maid who would do anything to "satisfy" him.

Your face heated up in embarrassment just thinking about it.

You sighed, biting your lip as you ran through the pros and cons in your head.

You wilted after a moment, your morality winning the internal battle.

Discarding your dignity, and swallowing the last of your pride, you turned around to exit the kitchen and go find Tobi.

::

"But D-Deidara-Senpai! Tobi's not lying! He swears!" Tobi exclaimed, waving his hands around wildly as if that helped his case.

"Tch. Sure Tobi, un. You really expect me to believe that you got Y/N to be your maid?" Deidara scoffed.

It was then that you peaked from the hallway. Calling Tobi's name and desperately hoping that he was alone.

"Ah! Y/N-Chan! Impeccable Timing~!" Tobi said happily, Deidara snapping his head over towards you to see if Tobi really wasn't lying.

Uh oh.

Your face flamed as you tried to retreat back into the hallway, Tobi one step ahead of you, grabbing your wrist and pulling you into the living area for Deidara to see.

Deidara's eyes widened as he looked over your form, clad in a skimpy maid outfit complete with the lacy little headdress on top.

Deidara slowly but surely flushed, before turning to Tobi.

"I want in." Deidara said earnestly.

Your face flamed and you literally wanted to die in a hole of pitiful embarrassment.

Completely appalled, Tobi gasped quite dramatically at Deidara's words and pulled you close, as if protecting you. "Deidara-Senpai! You can't! Y/N-Chan is Tobi's maid! And Tobi doesn't think you would appreciate her like Tobi does!" Tobi said indignantly as he snuggled into your chest.

Good lord, you felt like your face was permanently pink today. From all this excitement you had nearly forgotten what you came out to ask-

"What?! Tobi! You can't keep her all to yourself like this! You're being selfish!" Deidara yelled.

"Nuh-uh senpai! Tobi won Y/N-Chan's free will fair and square! And why would Tobi share? This way she's all mine~" Tobi exclaimed, trailing off into a creepy giggle at the end.

It's like they're two kids fighting over a new toy... You sighed.

You blushed when you realized that you were the toy.

Before Deidara could fire back or you could finally ask what the hell Tobi wanted to eat, something awful happened.

Hidan walked in.

It took him five seconds to skim his eyes over your form, Tobi's face pressed into your chest and Deidara blushing... and burst into laughter.

"Pfft Hahahaha, what the hell kind of kinky shit is going on in here?" Hidan howled, bent over and holding his stomach from laughter.

Tobi hurriedly let go of you and turned around, putting his arms in front of you as if to hide you. "Nothing Hidan-Senpai! Y-You don't have all the information!" Tobi exclaimed, his slightly shaky voice not convincing anyone.

"Tch. Tobi got Y/N to be his maid, and he's keeping this opportunity all to himself!" Deidara scoffed, crossing his arms indignantly.

Interest piqued, Hidan walked over to you, promptly pushing Tobi out of the way and grabbing your jaw.

"His maid, huh? And just how'd he manage that...?" Hidan said, his voice quieter and more husky since he was so close to your face.

You tried to repress the shiver that threatened to crawl down your spine...Hidan had always creeped you out.

Before you could stutter out a response, you felt a stinging on your ass.

Oh my-

He pinched my ass!

You squeaked involuntarily and pushed Hidan off you, Deidara starting to fume as he realized what happened.

"Hey man! Don't touch her like that, un!" He exclaimed, though he probably wanted to do the same thing.

"Hidan!" Tobi gasped, rushing over to pick you up bridal style and cradle you in his arms.

"No one is allowed to touch Y/N-Chan like that! She is Tobi's!" He exclaimed, and you would have been happy for his defense if he didn't keep referring to you as 'his'.

Deidara and Hidan were now straight up fighting, Tobi's yelling falling on deaf ears.

The lewd things Deidara and Hidan were saying about you as they fought had you desperately hiding your burning face in Tobi's chest.

Tobi pet your hair in a soothing manner before running off, with you still in his arms.

"It's too dangerous out here with all the other members! Y/N-Chan will just have to serve Tobi in his room! Alone~"

Lunch completely forgotten, you worried for what was to come as Tobi carried you off, Deidara and Hidan still wrestling on the floor.

It was then that Kisame and Itachi walked in, just in time to hear Tobi's exclamation as they saw you being carried off by Tobi while Deidara and Hidan were rolling around the floor and pulling at each other's hair.

#naruto #akatsuki #tobi #tobi uchiha #obito #obito uchiha #tobi x reader #tobi uchiha x reader #obito x reader #obito uchiha x reader #akatsuki x reader #hidan #deidara #kisame #itachi #kisame hoshigaki #itachi uchiha

[gone-daddy-gone]

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TW: yandre, toxic relationships, abuse (emotional, some physical stuff but they don’t outright hit you), coercion, mentions of blood, spanking, twins are kinky

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❝ 𝒢𝑒𝑜𝓇𝑔𝑒 𝒲𝑒𝒶𝓈𝓁𝑒𝓎 ❞

let’s start with the type of yandere he is

i think he is an unholy combination of obsessive, protective, and delusional 

lets unpack this shall we

he, just like his brother would be the type to obsess and obsess about their darling day in and day out

making jokes about what classes they could be in (for the explicit purpose of finding out from their peers which one they actually are in)

picking at his finger nails as he mauls over what you could be doing at that exact moment, who you could be talking to

he goes to the bathroom at least once in every class just so he could walk past your class and catch even just a glimpse of you

scrawls your name on every paper he can, whispers your name to himself when he...has his privacy 

if he is in a relationship with his darling or not, he is over protective 

we all know what he did to draco for calling his mother a name, just imagine what he’s willing to do for someone he’s in love with

one time he over heard a group of boys detailing what they want to do to your body 

and he lost it

he felt his fingers curl, and his face twitch, before he turned around and knocked a kids head into another kid

at the sight of their blood, he felt a rush of encouragement 

as if the blood was some form of physical proof to his devotion to you

needless to say he beat them to a bloody pulp before finally coming out of his angered state

a very concerned fred behind him

fred knows his twin though, he knows he can get a little, rowdy sometimes 

he’s seen him do this before, and fred wasn’t exactly a saint himself 

he’s also a bonfide stalker

mascaraing his dark intentions by vehemently swearing that he’s only lurking in the dark hallways near your dorm to plant some of his pranks for everyone to enjoy in the morning 

fred eating up every lie his twin said 

because he says it with so much enthusiasm he just can’t help but go along

if you two are dating this is only made worse

for both you and he offender

he follows you everywhere

a firm hand on your hip making you think he was gonna crack your hip bone in those slender fingers of his

every single person who talks to gets some weird kind of vague threat about waking up with spiders crawling out of their eyes

or about how well he can truly swing his beater bat

slowly but surely the only people that talk to you become the teachers

every student (besides the weasley family) far too scared to even look in your direction

it was isolating 

so much so that you needed to end it

and that goes horrible 

him telling you that you can’t leave him

and that he can’t live without you

you’re his everything!

but you’re not having it, and you tell him to stay away

all is well

for a few days

you don’t see george hanging around anymore

some students have started talking to you again

you can finally breathe 

you feel so confident that you resign to throw yourself into your work alone in the library 

its a quiet night, not a single kid is in sight 

probably all partying in some house dorm on campus 

you’re just so wrapped up in your little studying that you don’t even feel georgies presence behind you

“did you miss me love?” is the last thing you hear as goose bumps cover your flesh and black clouds your vision

when you do happen to come to, you’re in some small white room bound and gagged

finding yourself staring at your ex boyfriend who currently wrapped himself around you like an anaconda 

you make a shrill scream through your gag prompting he sleeping giant to awake from his slumber 

this is when his delusional side truly sets in

when you cry to him and beg to home he chuckles and runs his fingers through your hair, telling you that you are home silly!

reciting all the “conversations” you two had about running away together 

about how sick of school you are 

how you can’t wait to finish school and two months, you need to get out now

of course you tried to convince him otherwise 

but he wouldn’t listen 

only saying how much he loves you and how much you two were meant to be together 

one can only stay in his fictional world for so long 

and with your insistent telling him you hate him, crying, begging, and hitting...well it could make a man snap

he never puts his hands on you

opting to throw things at you for crying when he enters the room

screaming at the top of his lungs terrible terrible things he wants to do to you, plans to do to you 

then he starts crying because he’s never been good enough for anyone

how hes unlovable, always the second choice 

before he starts screaming insults at you for crying in terror at his mood swings

saying that if you would just love him back you could of stopped all of this

eventually he collapses in your arms, whispering sweet nothings as tears leak out of his eyes as his fit had finally wore him out

if you want to avoid his punishments, you best figure out how to make him feel loved

his punishments are on the less extreme side, at least compared to his brother 

he’ll tie you completely down, to the point where you can’t move any joints at all

this serves as a means for him to feed you 

almost like a lover

allows him to cuddle you without you biting him again

sometimes he spanks you till you can’t sit down anymore

getting a rather sick pleasure out of seeing your plump ass black and blue

isolation, so bad that he won’t see you face to face or feed you for days, and on one occasion, a week long 

you began to give in to him rather quickly 

giving him sexual favors in turn for food

cuddling with his so he’ll let you walk around outside in the sunlight

calling him daddy like he asked so you could see pictures of your old friends and family

all in all having george as your yandere could be an amazing time, with him making you home made meals

singing you to sleep

him praising you for every correct action

so long as it’s the correct, action after all

❝𝓕𝓻𝓮𝓭 𝓦𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓵𝓮𝔂❞

his type is protective and obsessive 

it starts out small

maybe him just glaring at kids who talk about you

telling them to keep your name out of their mouth or he might just wash it out with soap

all said with a smile on his face of course

so no one really takes him seriously 

that is until he starts putting a curse on students who said your name that etched some vile things into their skin 

they kept quiet of course 

not wanting whatever else the sick red head had up his sleeve to be perpetuated on them

so when he made it increasingly obvious that he had a liking to you

you were nothing less than thrilled 

he was on the Gryffindoor quidditch team after all 

and quiet handsome to boot 

and at first everything is grand

he writes you love letters

sings to you

lets you wear his jersey

has you hang on his arm everywhere you go 

and honestly, he starts out as perfect gentleman

but that is until the cracks beigin to appear 

and you start to see his cute protective side turn into his obsessive and selfish side 

it started off with him not wanting you to talk to other guys

which was a dramatic request, but still in the realm of reality 

then it went from just boys to everyone

he said that everyone in all your classes talked trash about you

saying that it was best to just shut out those fake people

to rely on him and his family

they were real, wholesome people afterall

then when you’re isolation wasn’t enough for him he would get angry at you for looking too long at anyone really

you would receive long lectures about how you don’t truly love him because you have your eyes on other people  

you would swear up and down that you do love him

only for him to respond to prove it

if that wasn’t enough, he had to be with you at all times, he would wait outside your class room with his brother and his darling escorting you to your next class

he would stay with you up until the very last moment he could

sometimes he would force you to sneak into his dorm, or let you into yours

if you’re a trooper and can take all of this pressure with a smile, then you get to keep your life at hogwarts under his oppressive thumb

but if you decide it’s too much...

well just like his brother, you end up in a cold white room

although unlike his brother, he has a grip on reality and knows just what he’s doing

he’s heard of Stockholm syndrome before...and you already loved him before 

how hard could making you fall in love again be?

he’s still a perfect gentlemen, but this time when you don’t do what he wants 

he doesn’t hold back

he does try his hardest not to lay his hands on you

his mother taught him better after all 

but sometimes he finds himself grabbing at the strands of hair in your scalp and yanking them at a force no person should have to feel

or other unfortunate occasions he would slam you full force into a wall when you got a little mouthy and told him those lies about how you don’t love him

how no one kidnaps the ones they love 

he would always apologize and kiss you all over, detailing about how sorry he is

how if you would just be a good girl he could treat you how he prefers to

aside from that another form of his punishments is making you get through one of his traps he set up, he calls it the whipping machine

if you can get past all the lashings that cause welts and sometimes blood to from your skin

then you get to eat for the night

and if you don’t well then you get to sit there all night and the next morning without food and until you can complete his tasks 

if he’s in a more cheerful mood when you misbehave he gives you one of his new inventions to try out 

you shutter to think about what happened to your skin the last time he gave you one

he doesn’t force himself onto you

but he lets you know that if you give him what he wants then he’ll give you a new privileged

your latest privilege was getting a book to read while he went off to go work on the shop

fred much like his brother, isn’t all that bad

if you can stand the whipping tree

and his outburts

↷𝔻𝕠𝕦𝕓𝕝𝕖 𝕋𝕣𝕠𝕦𝕓𝕝𝕖↶ (mostly sex- choking, slapping, not vanilla)

having both the twins as yandere’s is by far the worse outcome

god do they feed on each other

usually, they compliment each other in the best ways 

but yandere twins,,,not so much

fred feeding into george’s insecurity 

george feeding into fred’s whole they belong to us mentality 

and between the two of them, there’s nowhere in the school you could escape from them

somehow someway they always find you

pestering you until you oblige them

with them having someone else to feed into their obsessions they both detonate at a faster rate than individually 

it would be george would decided that they needed to kidnap you

and fred was the one that planned it all out

the room they kept you in as a collective was much better than it would be if it was one on one

far more things to do

far better blankets 

more time time outside what with the two of them being there to stop you

the doors were all enchanted to spray some weird liquid at you that would make you drop down as the alarm was set off 

they would come running and laughing

going back and forth about how silly you are to think you can get away from them

they would pick you up and tell you that it was time for your punishment now

which almost always tended to be sexual

which you endured if only for the sake of your future 

this included over-stimulation 

spankings

choking 

slapping you around

and your eventual begging for forgiveness 

the twins are rather kinky in bed

the more obvious ones being double penetration

they liked to be refereed to as daddy or sir

nipple clamps

bondage

hair pulling

flogging

sensory deprivation

they want to do it all to you

they just can’t help it with how beautiful you are

and he worst part is, you like it

you like being treated like an object in bed

you knew it

the twins knew it

its rather hard to fake disdain for them when they make you cum over and over again during sex

maybe that’s what helped you to slowly begin to break 

slowly start to believe yourself when you said you loved them

after all, when you just love them and do what they say...it isn’t all that bad

#harry potter #fred weasley #george weasley #george wealsey x reader #yandere fred weasley #fred weasely x reader #yandere george weasley x reader #yandere george weasley #yandere harry potter #yandere hogwarts #yandere harry potter x reader #harry potter scenarios #harry potter imagine #hp x reader #yandere hp #fred weasley x you #george weasley x you #weasley twins #weasley twins x reader #weasley twins x you #yandere tw #abuse tw #weasley twins fanfic #weasley twins fanficion #yandere drabble #yandere #yandere scenario #yandere imagines #weasley twins imagine #weasley twins imaines

[hobipaint]

Graffiti and Chalk - one.

summary: You thought you knew him. You thought him gone. Kim Taehyung was part of you that you had carefully suppressed, keeping his memories to one box near the wall of your mind. That was your fault, though - empty walls demand for art. And who other than your own neighbourhood vandal?

↳ pairing: ex police student turned vandal! taehyung x officer! female reader

↳ genres: angst, eventual fluff?

↳ word count: 4.7K

↳ disclaimers: pg15!, vandalism, police officers, criminal past and heavy discussion of it, mentions of attempted murder.

one | two

a/n: this was supposed to be a one shot, but i decided to make it a two shot because inspiration struck at the twelfth hour. This is based on stigma tae, and has massive massive references to hyyh tae as well!! I'm warning you all. Written for the @bangtanwritingbingo prompt: chalk drawings. Beta read by @vaekth and @kookiestarlight who are possibly the most supportive and appreciative people I could have asked for, thank you so much!!

You'd thought that being an officer would mean solving cases for people who genuinely needed help. Not hunting around for a missing pumpkin. 

"It's round, large, and I think it was slightly squishy, Y/N," the kid who had run up to you exclaimed again, while making gestures for round, large and squishy. 

If the kid weren't this adorable, you'd squish him for being too loud at 8 in the morning. 

You unlocked the door to your office, taking in the sight of the homey little cubicle that you maintained alone. Being the sole officer in a neighbourhood should be hard work, but in a neighbourhood where practically everybody is asleep? Not as much. 

You sighed as you pulled the kid in - who by now had told you that his name was Sungwoo, and he was eight years old. His mother told him that if he ever lost anything precious he should head to the police, so here he was. 

"Can you find my pumpkin?" He peered up at you as you tried to get the coffee machine started- well, as well as you can with a kid in the way. "It's round, large and squishy." 

"Round, large, squishy. Got it." You smiled wearily at him, seeing how his eyes lit up at the sight of your notebook- the one he obviously thought you wrote your cases in. You took your espresso in a mug, running over to him before he damaged it. He ran over to it, picking it up, dropping it because of its weight and picking it up again. 

"Can you write a message for Peter here?" He asked you, eyes wide and round as he stared at the brown leather bound book. 

"Peter? I thought we were talking about your pumpkin?" 

He nodded vigorously- strong enough to make you worry if his head would fall over. Flopping his hair to the side messily, he scampered to you as you settled in your chair, opening the last page of your book - where you had kept your post-its. "Peter is pumpkin! It's made of something- mom told me-" he put a hand to his head, trying to force his small head to think of big words, "Is it pushy?" 

"Do you mean it is a plushie, Sungwoo?" You said, sighing and writing it down on a post-it note and sticking it on your desk. 

"Yeah!" His eyes sparkled, and he bent his head down to the paper you gave him to scribble a hasty note for Peter. Once satisfied, he raised his head, giving the chit two pats before turning to you. "It's missing, Y/N. Can you find it?"

"Of course I can," you reassured him the best you could while half-asleep. The boy suddenly pulled you into a hug, happy tears spilling out of his eyes as he murmured thank you's over and over. 

You held him for a few more seconds, understanding the worry that the kid would have over his plushie. You didn't understand why he had to bring it to you, though. 

You felt a soft yet insistent buzz in your pant pockets all of a sudden, realizing it was your phone. You pulled yourself away from the crying child, and caressed his head while picking up the call. 

"Good morning, Officer L/N." The coarse voice of your chief barked at you. 

You sighed, not wanting to deal with any of his tantrums right after you dealt with the case of Peter the Pumpkin. "Good morning, Chief." 

"I'm arriving at your office in about ten minutes. We have to discuss something important." 

You sighed again, hand grabbing Sungwoo's as you led him outside the office. Time to clean up. "Of course, Sir."

"Why is this place so messy?" was the first thing you had to hear in the form of a greeting. When your chief said ten minutes, he clearly meant half an hour.

You'd spent some time clearing up cookie crumbs from your table, dusting any evidence of your multiple ramen packets, arranging the tables in proper order, lining the chairs up, and stuffing all the stuff you couldn't clear into a closet. It seemed clean enough to you.

"I shall clean it, Sir." You bowed your head once, carefully maintaining your expression so that the chief doesn't think of you as any more insolent than he already does. 

"It doesn't reflect well upon the force to have a messy office, Y/N. I'm sure you were taught that," he said, pressing his finger to a certain spot on a table, and raising it up to show you. "Dust in our offices speaks of nonchalance. That is the last thing we'd want anyone to think of us is that we're nonchalant."

"I apologise, sir. I shall rectify it." 

"I expect you to. Anyways," he said, dusting his hands and moving to another corner of the office, "that is not what I came here for." He settled into the chair-  your chair, with the note for Peter the Pumpkin intact.

You prayed for him to ignore it. 

"There's been growing signs of vandalism in the neighbourhood you're patrolling, Y/N," The chief said to you in a gruff tone, looking like an angry cat with his whiskers trembling. He wore a scowl to match the whole look. Luckily, his pondering eyes missed out on the missing pumpkin report. "I want you to catch that person. Why isn't it done yet?"

"They were untraceable, Sir. All we could capture was a navy blue hoodie and jeans. Nothing else. There's only graffiti and chalk all over the places he's been at, Sir. I tried looking for clues-" 

"Keep looking, then."

"I'm trying, sir. I have asked the owners of all the shops on the street to hand over any CCTV footage they have of the person so that I can analyze it and try to nab him. It is a futile task till now, though." 

The chief rubbed his hand hard on his thigh, the sound of his palm scratching against the coarse trouser fabric reaching you. "They are being a menace, Y/N. A nuisance to those who want peace in this neighbourhood. You are supposed to bring that peace for them, not complain about not being able to get that person. That is your job." He looked you directly in the eye, anger clearly visible. "Or would you wish to leave?"

You twitched in anger, forcing yourself to remain calm. The chief had a penchant for transferring those who were unsuccessful in their cases to different stations- the more transfers, the more incompetent you seemed. You had already begun at a relatively low level, and you couldn't afford going lower. You nodded stiffly. 

"Any more complaints, and I'd be forced to transfer you somewhere else and hand this case over to someone competent. And you know it wouldn't be safe for your career, Y/N." He rose up from the chair, heading towards the door. "I want it resolved. Soon." 

You bowed your head, in a sense of respect for your senior you'd actually never felt. It was annoying, honestly, and your hatred for this man just grew more and more. You had requested since the day of your graduation from the academy to be put in the forensics department - something that actually was your specialty. But no, here you were, patrolling a neighbourhood where the only problem was a kid scribbling on walls and leaving an alphabet behind. 

V.

Taehyung kicked a pebble aside, letting it roll aimlessly along the half-paved, half-broken road. "I'm out of green paint, again." 

He glanced at the aluminium shutters he had decided to vandalize- no, beautify- today, deciding that the subtle decor of the florist's shop and the grim outside of the tattoo shop - both needed redecorations. He didn't care who was the owner. He didn't care how many reports they filed about the eerie similarities of the vandal to Mrs. Kim's son - they never cared about him before, so they'd never care about him now. That, he was sure of. 

His red paint had been used to make the outer petals of a rose that he had dedicatedly been drawing the previous day, until the owner had yelled from his house above for him to stop. That was early, though. 11 AM was a predictable time for a vandal to walk through the streets, spraying graffiti and dusting chalk over every nook and corner until he was satisfied by the art he had created. 

His wristwatch ticked three as he picked up his blue paint can. Just a few hours later, but effective enough for the owner to have fallen asleep - Taehyung could definitely justify that by the snores that echoed behind the shutters. 

"Reporting. Reporting. Vandal. Street 13. I repeat. Vandal. Street 13." 

The cuckoo clock that your mom had gifted you to decorate the less than neat office struck three just when the report came through. Just when you were about to settle for the night.

You pushed your papers aside, leaving the missing car complaint on your table. Holding your baton, slipping your ID into the pocket of your jeans and dusting crumbs off your chiffon blouse, you picked up the radio. 

"Street 13. Officer Y/N reporting." 

The gruff voice of your chief growled back at you. "The vandal has been found on camera, finally. The florist's CCTV; he sent a complaint. In fact, he's been wandering the streets for half an hour now, Y/N. Where have you been?" 

You were about to form a legible enough response, say that the paperwork he had set for you was what consumed your time, but he beat you to it. Sighing into the phone, he said, "Nevermind that. Get to his location immediately, and capture him." His voice stumbled for a second. "Take the taser, just in case." 

"Yes sir," you responded meekly, and disconnected the radio. 

You looked around for your keys, going past a board full of cases that were never relevant enough to be solved - especially the one of the missing pumpkin. The types of cases you received here made you shudder, this wasn't why you had spent so much time training at the university. You tucked your radio into your jacket as you pushed it on your shoulders, grabbing onto a half-eaten sandwich to satisfy your hunger along the way.

"I have to get that person before he robs me of a chance at the forensics department forever," you thought while speeding towards the location told to you - while maintaining the speed limit, of course. No space for nonchalance. 

You'd wanted to finish all your paperwork today and get back to an analysis you were working on - preferably get a nap too. Capturing a neighbourhood graffiti artist- this isn't what you had wanted to do.

This wasn't what Taehyung had wanted to do. 

The paint dried off slowly on the metal surface, a small drop of ink trickling down where Taehyung had stopped. The design wasn't matching what he had thought at all, he thought as he stared at it. Time to switch it up. 

He picked up the painting from right where he had stopped it - merging blue into the red petals as he was on his way to the centre of the flower. Painstakingly, he traced lines that would capture the delicate curves of the outlines, serving to further merge into the picture. 

His vandalism wasn't ugly drawings, nudity, or someone just spraying 'SUCKAZ!' all over a wall. That is for amateurs. His was nuanced art. Art that he couldn't do in the day. The ones he could never showcase in the galleries. The ones he buried in the deepest recesses of his mind, burning a hole into the boxes he stuffed them into. This was his freedom. 

Taehyung picked up the black can. Fixing the nozzle in the proper direction, he shook the bottle- once, twice. The paint came out in spurts at first, before settling into a steady spray. Black always enhances everything, doesn't it? Enhancement that never seemed beautiful - it was just there to make it stand out. Be noticed. Be shamed. Be suspected. Look deadly, or even look dead. Even the most innocent faces look devious with black. What's to say his flower would still look alive? 

The black slowly spiralled across the expanse of the shutter, coiling over and over in what Taehyung thought could be the leaves. The thorns that held the flower back from reaching the epitome of beauty- at least, outwardly beauty. He detested how overhyped a rose was- just as destructible as all other flowers. Where's the beauty in something temporary? 

The green paint can had been used up last time when he had sprayed ivy all over the fashion boutique's doors- all of which had been washed away. A shame, Taehyung thought, and picked up his airbrush. Filling a little green into the small holder, he tested it a few times on the footpath - he'd scrub chalk all over it later on, he still needed to add more to beautify the shops. He carefully painted leaves all over the black he had sprayed, letting them flatten out against the metal at the back and form a protective layer around the rose. Unnecessary by all means. 

He then switched to a darker green, picking up the airbrush once again to add some subtlety in the leaves. He watched the spray slowly settle right where he wanted it - paint, unlike his life, was something he had full control of. It was liberating. 

Standing back and twirling the can over and over in his hand, Taehyung was somewhat satisfied with what he made. A rose. Simple, overrated. Just like flowers. The leaves stood out more to him, along with the thorns; their prickly points being the focus of the picture. Perfect. 

He picked up his personal favorite - a small can of black paint who's nozzle had been crafted by him. Stooping down to the corner of the shutter, he slowly sprayed across it. Black settling on silver gray, one single alphabet. V. 

That's it. He was done. Just an hour's work. 

He turned to the tattoo artist's shop, the shutter a colourful mess littered with messy black stains and drawings the owner probably thought was hip. Taehyung cringed. How was it possible for an artist to be that bad at decorating their own shop? He walked a few steps back, admiring the size of it and thinking of what he could fill there. Something that would really annoy a tattoo artist- he deserved it after having ruined the shutter like that. Picking up a blade, Taehyung set to scrape away the skulls- which, he found, were stickers. Gross. Peeling them off, he set to chip away at the paint- the soft thunk, thunk of the blade slapping against the metal echoed around him. Hopefully, not too loud. 

The metal loudly protested as Taehyung pressed his blade against what seemed to be an outline of a body, done with black, and some random inscriptions that he could notice were wearing away. This had to be really old. 

Scratch, scratch, scratch. The blade kept pushing at the layers of colour, forcing them off the metal. He could see glints of silver shining underneath it, dim under the streetlight.

Scratch, scratch, scratch. He kept pushing at the paint, tongue poking out as his eyebrows furrowed in concentration. He had to do it now. There was no other time for him to do this. Now. Now. Now. 

The silver suddenly glinted more brightly- a shade impossible under the dull, flickering yellow of the streetlights. White lights created a halo of sorts around him, and Taehyung knew his time was up. He smiled. At least one place got the beauty they deserved. 

"Hands up!" A voice yelled behind him, and he could hear a click that definitely sounded like a taser gun. 

Looking up, he cursed loudly at everyone and anyone. He could have finished it tonight. His work would have been done, and he would have been on his way. He turned around, annoyance sparking in his eyes with sarcastic acceptance lining his lips in the way they curled. "You found me," he murmured, before letting himself get slammed against the very shutters he was painting.

Fate played wonderful games, and for now, you were its newest loser. 

"Name." You spoke, your voice monotone yet clear. 

"You know me, Y/N. Don't pretend you don't." Taehyung crooned, smirking while he rotated the glass that rested atop the table. 

Your annoyance only grew. When you were told that there was a vandal in the streets, you didn't expect it to be a familiar face. 

Kim Taehyung was known to you. Someone who had lived right next door. Someone who had been known as a lovable, obedient boy by the neighbours- you still remembered how your mother would gush about him. Someone you knew, and once, cared for. 

Someone who was later only known as the kid who flung a bottle on his stepfather's face and was sentenced for five years - which, in fact, was a misjudgement. He was innocent, and the video of him attacking the man was manipulated. Fake. Edited. Whatever you chose wouldn't be enough to change anything in the past. 

Taehyung had come out of jail a changed man, weeping openly in the streets when he heard of his family's fate- what he had heard, though, was something you were unaware of. Two years had since passed, and you no longer heard your mother talking about the Kim's boy. He had simply vanished, for you. No traces anywhere. 

But here he was. Kim Taehyung. Alive, breathing. Smirking. And spinning a glass over and over. 

"Give that to me." You said, snatching the glass away from him and keeping it aside. Settling into your chair, you pulled your laptop closer once again, mustering the most serious look you can. "I'm not playing around, Taehyung. Talk properly. Behave. You're already in a rough spot." 

Taehyung laughed; a mirthless, almost painful laughter. "I can't see how anything can be bad here, officer. With all due respect, of course." He straightened up, still keeping that smirk on his face.

You exhaled your breath slowly, holding back all the words you wanted to hurl at him. "Name?"

"Kim Taehyung."

You typed it in, feeling the way each letter pad was pushed down before you moved over it- momentary, but fulfilling. "Age."

"As of today, 25." 

"Job."

"Nothing. Add the official vandal of Street 13 if you want." 

You raised an eyebrow, fingers abruptly coming to a stop. "Behave." 

"No job, officer." Taehyung said, settling further ahead in his seat and pausing, before speaking again. "Why do you need this though? I already have a criminal record, don't I?" 

You turned your face to him, the sudden change in light exposure hurting your eyes. The hurt they felt couldn't possibly fathom the depths of pain you saw churning in Taehyung's eyes, like pits of fire. They were seemingly blank,  but you had known him. Known him long enough to know that this wasn't who he used to be. This wasn't him. 

"Once you were proven innocent, your record was wiped clean. The manipulators were given the charges that you had." You looked at him while saying this, trying to notice any emotions that would make way to his face. None. No twitching lips, no annoyance in his eyebrows. Just his eyes that seethed anger. "Family?" 

"None." 

You raised an eyebrow. "None?"

Taehyung groaned, getting up from the chair and turning around, hands on his waist. "Don't make me repeat all that shit again. You know it, Y/N." 

"Sit back down, Taehyung." You said, irritated by his tantrums. It was four in the morning, for God's sake. You didn't have the energy to deal with him. "I need details if you want to get out of this without any charges." 

"Dead. Most of them. Those who aren't, disowned me as soon as I got into jail. Something about not wanting to be related to a criminal." He said lowly, a gruff tone to his voice as he spoke the last words. 

You hummed lowly, not knowing what to say. How do you possibly respond to something like this? You weren't trained for interrogation at university. You specialized in forensics. This wasn't supposed to be your job. 

"I'm sorry that happened, Taehyung." You managed after a few moments of silence. 

"Don't be." He shrugged, then looked up. "You don't mean it." 

"I still need a reason as to why you are destroying the places around here with your graffiti and chalk drawings, Taehyung." You ignored him and continued, rising from your chair to let your sore limbs relax. "Unfortunately, I can't let you leave till you give me a reason." 

Taehyung stayed mum, much to your annoyance. 

You slammed your hand on the table, a loud slap that stung your hand, but also Taehyung's ears, it seemed. "Reasons. Now."

"I just wanted to." 

"Wanted to? So you were voluntarily damaging someone else's property?" 

He raised his head to look at you; once, twice. Then with a resigned sigh, he responded. "Yeah. But I was beautifying it." 

"A beautification they never asked for?" You said, as Taehyung groaned behind you. 

"No one gives a damn, Y/N-" 

"The police do." You say, preparing to send a message to your chief over the radio. "Got him." 

"The police didn't care when I was innocent in that case, Y/N. Stop pretending like they'll care for me when I'm actually guilty of something." 

"That case was mishandled."

"Yeah, Y/N. It was mishandled. But only for you." You turned to him, shocked at the venom that suddenly laced his voice. 

In the few seconds that you had turned away from him, his eyes had turned bloodshot. Red rimmed the remaining white of his eyes. "You wouldn't know what it is to be locked up for harming people you loved, Y/N. You wouldn't understand that pain," he murmured, loud enough for you to hear him in the echoes of the office. 

You wanted to scream at him. Tell him how he had hurt you. Remind him of all the things you had forced yourself to forget over seven years. The way your heart still hurt for him. 

"You're right. I won't understand. So sit here, and explain yourself." You pulled your chair back, seating yourself in it and gazing up at him expectantly. 

He was just staring at you- you couldn't say whether his gaze held expectations or disdain. Then, shaking his head, "You're still just as stubborn, aren't you," he said, softly smiling as he slipped into his chair. "Adamant, and so, so confusing."

"You don't know me anymore, Taehyung. Don't pretend. Anyways," you said, turning to your laptop again. "I need-"

"No." He stood up once again- why was he standing? "Answer me, now." 

He rested his arms on the table, chest leaning forward to balance himself- and now, you could see the changes he had brought in himself. In place of lean muscle there were defined biceps you could see being flexed. In place of short hair was curly locks that fell until his crown, now hanging over. In place of a cheeky grin that sent your blood rushing to your cheeks was a pair of lips, set tight in one line that sent chills down your spine. There was warmth to him, yes, but it was different. This wasn't the Taehyung you knew. 

"You knew that I was back." Your eyes moved back to look into his. And you noticed more changes. Instead of a carefree twinkle, there was dark, brooding black filling his pupils. "You knew. I'd seen you that night." 

The night when you had seen him falling to his knees, soaking himself in the rain as he gave his tears as a tribute to the gushing skies. The night he returned. The night you thought he didn't know you. 

"I'd seen you after that as well. That day at the convenience store, I'd seen you buying candies. You still buy the same kind, don't you? Lemon flavoured." 

The night you gave up on your dreams to become an analyst in the forensic lab for the police. The night where you stared up to question everything you did as your feet soaked in the snow. Two years ago. The night he thought he knew you. 

"You're hurting me by not remembering us, Y/N." 

"We were nothing to begin with." You cleared your throat, settling further back into your chair. "You asked me on a date, and stood me up. We're nothing. Absolutely nothing." 

Taehyung opened his mouth to speak again, but leaned back, standing tall, straight. You almost missed his warmth - no. This wasn't the warmth of a person you had cared for. 

"It's so cold outside, Y/N, why haven't you turned on the heater?" Your chief's voice filled the room after a few minutes of absolute silence. Taehyung had taken to leaning on the wall, now, maintaining an anxious distance. "Did you get the man?"

You simply pointed towards Taehyung, watching the chief's face flash with recognition, brows hastily furrowing as a frown formed on his face.

"Kim Taehyung?" Your chief asked, coming up to the two of you. "Is it really you? Are you the vandal?"

Taehyung remained silent, head hung. 

The chief inhaled, then exhaled; loud enough for you to hear him - "It is you, isn't it. What happened after the attempted murder case?" 

"Proven false, Sir." You informed your superior. For some odd reason, you felt like you had to come to Taehyung's defense. 

"I am aware of that, Y/N." The chief said, looking Taehyung up and down. As reported, he was in the navy blue sweatshirt and ripped jeans- and you could see in the clear light of your office that he had ripped the holes into them himself. Something he did before to look fashionable, he used to say. 

"I don't really want to put any charges on you, Taehyung. Why did you do it?"

Taehyung spoke, voice gravelly. "It was liberating, Sir." 

"You broke the law, though." 

"The law broke me, Sir." 

The chief took another deep breath and settled onto the chair where Taehyung was sitting just a few moments ago. His wrinkled skin seemed to age even more. Taehyung was close with the chief as a student, that you knew- you had seen him going multiple times to his office to get clarifications after class. You wondered how the chief felt - did he feel the same sting of recognition you had felt? 

"I don't want you to get any charges, Taehyung," he said, before laughing and adding, "all these years, and I still have my student in my head." 

He stood up and turned to face Taehyung again, worry reflecting in his eyes as he held him by the shoulders. "You're still the Taehyung I know, right?" 

Taehyung looked away, down, his face coming in your line of vision - you could see the small rivulets that flowed from the pool of emotions in his eye, down the lines that worry, anger and disbelief had formed on his face. Sniffing softly, he turned back to the chief. "Yes, Sir." 

The chief visibly relaxed, his arms coming down to his sleeves, gripping Taehyung. "Good. I hope it remains that way." 

He returned to his stern stance, and faced you. "I suggest you keep him here for the night, Y/N." he looked outside, the sky just turning sapphire. "I shall return in the morning to talk. Get some rest while you're at it. And Taehyung? Eat something." 

The chief swiftly departed the office, and Taehyung slumped into the chair. "Seven years, and the old man still remembers me," he laughed mirthlessly, lips twisting in an amused smile. "Always appreciated him." 

"And so did he," you mentioned. Taehyung was always brought up as a comparison for your batch of officers to emulate. Even when he was in jail, he was remembered among you as a diligent student and worker. "'Remember his good', he used to say. He always remembered you."

"And you?" He suddenly looked at you. His eyes were no longer bloodshot - there were small remnants of anger, but all you could see was wistfulness. "Did you remember me, Y/N?" 

a/n: yup, I stopped there. Do leave some feedback if you liked it- in the comments, or as an ask! Also, if you wish to be tagged for the next part, you can ask for that too! Thank you for giving your time to this fic,, and I hope you enjoyed reading it! love, hazel💞

masterlist

#btswritingbingo #bangtanarmynet #btscreatorscorner #graffiti and chalk #hobipaint #bts fanfiction #bts fanfics #taehyung fanfic #taehyung fanfiction #bts taehyung #taehyung imagines #taehyung drabbles #taehyung scenarios #taehyung angst #taehyung fluff #taehyung smut #taehyung x reader #taehyung x female reader #taehyung x oc #taehyung x you #tae x you #v x you #v x reader #bts angst #bts fluff #bts smut #bts v #bts kim taehyung

[malereader-inserts]

The Night We Met

Fandom: Riverdale Pairing: Jughead Jones x Male!Reader Summary: There’s too much pain in his heart, he really wish it will go away soon. Word Count: 1,575 Request:  I. Need. ANGST! (Please feed me some angst 🥺) Warning: Suicide, depression A/n: I would love more angst prompts.

Riverdale is a small place, it’s a town where everyone knows everyone. 

Death is common, it’s heartbreaking, but somehow it’s always more saddening when it’s a young person, just because they had so much life to experience. Riverdale is a quiet town, really, but it was only loud because of one young lad. 

Jughead Jones was very fond of this person.

You weren’t too bright that people hated to look your way, you were too good for this world. But, you were real. There wasn’t negativity in your body other than your outlook in life, you were so kind that the elderly always see you and offering your time to help them. You would help struggling students with subjects, you were an inspiration to Jughead’s side project - to tell the perfect story of you. 

See, you were a soft boy. The boy who wore round glasses, oversized sweaters and baggy jeans. Sometimes, you would wear your overalls with your long shirt underneath and converse to match. You weren’t afraid to express yourself, you were too good for this world because nothing should harm you.

So, how can this happy boy kill himself?

The town mourns because this shouldn’t have happened in the first place.

The kid, you, you were supposed to go - be free. You were supposed to leave Riverdale, make it big in the big city. Make friends, make a family, expand your horizons. 

You’re just a boy.

It hurts so much, to think, to feel. 

Jughead hated it, your story was supposed to be making it far and yet it was ending abruptly. Jughead remembers the night you met him, it was just you and him in Pop’s diner. The neon lights illuminating your face, Jughead cannot help but feel threatened by your looks.

You sat across him, sipping a cold beverage. One leg up on the booth and your arms leaning against your knee. Jughead remembers vividly the rings you hand on your fingers, the chains around your neck - the dull brown striped sweater that seems to contrast the white collar from a shirt under it. 

You two seem to hit it off that night, you were laughing at each other’s jokes, the occasional flirty remark, exchanging numbers and kept “running into each other at pop’s late at night when it’s just you and him.

“I want to write a book about you, (Y/n),” Jughead says, as you looked at him curiously, “You’re interesting.”

“Far from it, Jughead.”

He stood by your side most of the time, somehow you two formed a relationship - it was so unlikely, but it was right. Two boys just in love with each other, they see nothing but each other. Jughead adores the book he has written about you, there’s a load of wisdom sprouted from your mouth. 

“People tend to forget to tell each other how much they love or miss you or need you, and even if they do remember, sometimes they're just too shy, too scared, too certain it's the wrong thing to say or the wrong timing. But it's not. It never is. Say it before it's too late. For all we know, it could all be different tomorrow.”

“It really could.”

“I could die tomorrow, and I know there will be a lot of unsaid things in the air. There will be regret.”

Jughead looks at you, “Are you okay?”

You shrugged your shoulder, there was a faint smile on your face, “I haven’t been okay for a long time,” There was a beat silence as you laugh, “I’m just kidding, Jug, I’m okay.”

Jughead wishes he didn’t believe it - but foolishly, he did.

Life continues, he recalls how happy you were, there was nothing in life that could go wrong for you. And yet, you let out your deepest feelings in the late night meet up at Pop’s.

“You know,” You sighed, leaning your head back against the window, “I’m tired of feeling-”

“Huh?”

“I’m so done with life, this life I mean. Reincarnate me to another lifetime like two hundred years from now, maybe it’ll be better.”

“That is if climate change hasn’t taken us already,” Jughead say as you chuckle softly, “Maybe we’ll have robots.”

“Maybe, they’ll lower the age of drinking.”

There you go, joking again, as if you haven’t accidentally got to deep in your feelings. Jughead remembers how you were, and now he cringes. It’s all there, the signs of calling for help - right in front of him. And, he brushed it off because he thinks you’re joking.

Jughead remembers.

It hurts.

He had all, and then most of you. Some and now none of you.

He remembers how you started to drift away from him. The meetings late night started to be rare until you stopped showing up. The smile was there but it looked sort of faded. You weren’t by side as much until you were avoiding him, telling him that you were busy. 

You died.

You killed yourself.

You were at peace now. 

“Please...”

The wind rustles the nearby trees, it’s not cold out. In fact, the breeze was comforting in the warm day, summer was ending and autumn was starting to come about. Autumn had always been your favourite season, it was the season for staying in and the cold weather starting to nip at your nose. It’s an excuse to wear jumpers and have hot coffee.

“Please, take me back to the night we met.”

Jughead trembles, he’s on his knees as he stares at your headstone. It’s clean and fresh among those that have been forgotten over the years. Jughead doesn’t think a slab of stone fits you well, it’s just not you.

Your life could never be marked by a gravestone, something so cold and immobile. Perhaps a tree with a wind-chime in the branches could do you more justice, or a simple song sung into the wind. What lies in the ground is only flesh and blood, that's never what you were. 

You were quite honestly the most beautiful spirit Jughead has ever known. he prays that you soar with the eagles on lofty breezes and swim in oceans deep; he prays that you know the freedom this life could never give you, yet most of all he prays that when his time comes it is you that takes him by the hand and you go onwards to better times together.

There are flowers for you, some that were there since you were buried, some that were new. But, your grave was never short of flowers. 

“I would have done anything for them-”

“-Except save them,” Archie says behind him.

A reared as if he had been slapped. Jughead swallowed hard, eyes wide and startled before their gaze shuttered. “You have no fucking idea,” He whips around to tackle the redhead, “You don’t know (Y/n), you don’t know him like I know him. Don’t think for one second I wouldn’t have tried.”

“Juggie,” FP says softly, grabbing the boy by his shoulders, “(Y/n) wouldn’t want you to do this.”

“I’m sorry,” Archie whispered, he knows he overstepped the line - it’s a shock really, your death was sudden.

“I failed him,” Jughead says, it’s a struggle for him because he’s holding back tears, “I keep seeing his face and I can’t help think I’ve failed him.”

Guilt, too much of it. 

Regret, and you were right - there are a lot of unsaid things in the air and he regrets not telling you.

“I love him.”

“He loves you too,” FP says, making Jughead look him in the eyes, “There is not a bone in (Y/n) that tells you, you were ever at fault - okay? He doesn’t want you to blame yourself.”

Going home was an empty feeling in Jughead, FP knows it will take a while for Jughead to bounce back to himself. School seems to empty without you, there isn’t someone there to wait for him at his locker; instead, there’s candles and flowers at yours. Jughead goes to sleep with the papers of your unfinished story, he goes to sleep in your sweaters.

He keeps a picture of you, always on himself. One night he stares at you, it’s been two weeks since you were buried. Your relationship with him hadn’t lasted long, three months - not once he had uttered the three words as you did to him.

“I love you,” Jughead whispers to the picture of you.

“Why didn’t you tell me that when I was alive?” Your voice questions him, he knows you’re not there, but can’t help himself to imagine you by his side.

“I was scared.”

There was silence, “Yeah, I know that feeling.”

He can’t imagine how terrified you were, in your last moments of breathing. He doesn’t want to imagine it, yet sometimes it keeps him up at night. 

“Make my story ending a good one, will you?” Your voice says, there’s a tone of happiness for a second.

“I don’t know how to end it,” Jughead admits, “It wasn’t supposed to end so soon.”

“Tell them I was brave for finding peace,” Your voice softly begs, “Please, that’s how I want it to end.”

Jughead stays silent before nodding to himself; he knows he’ll be haunted by the ghost of you. But, that’s a request he can do for you - your one last wish.

“Okay,” He whispers.

Maybe, just maybe, you found peace in his word.

#jughead jones #jughead jones imagine #jughead jones x male!reader #x male reader #riverdale #riverdale x male reader #riverdale imagines #angst

[iclaimedtobethebetterbard]

snakes & silliness

Fandom: Sanders Sides Characters: Janus, Remus, Patton Rating: Teen & up Relationships: Intrualiceit, with a focus on Dukeceit Warnings: Language, some innuendo, both mostly courtesy of Remus.  Word count: 2297

Read on AO3!

My writing masterpost

Starlight Universe masterpost

Dukeceit Week 2021 start - previous - here - next - masterpost

Summary: The selecting of a first family pet is a very important matter. Almost as important as making Janus grin and blush in the middle of the reptile section. Luckily, Remus and Patton take both of these tasks as seriously as they should.

Notes: Day 3 of Dukeceit Week 2021! @dukeceitweek Takes place in my Starlight Universe, where each piece can be read without any context. Takes place 4 or 5 years post-college. Remus, Janus, and Patton all use he/they pronouns. 

–

Remus locked the car doors behind them as he, Janus, and Patton began to make their way across the parking lot towards the pet store. “What shall we name it?” he inquired, offering one hand to each of his partners.

Patton lit up. “I don’t know… Snakey!”

Remus pursed his lips. “Sure, but I was thinking, like, something cool. Like… Mouse Killer.”

“No, that’s sad!” Patton shook his head. “What about Scaley?”

Remus grinned. “Janus Jr.”

“Danger Noodle!”

“Janice, but spelled the other way.”

“Snoot Boopsie!”

“Janus, but pronounced like anus.”

“You are both terrible at naming snakes,” Janus cut in, breaking the amused silence they had maintained until now as their eyebrows rose higher and higher with each of Remus and Patton’s suggestions.

“Oh, really?” Remus rounded on them with a grin. “And what would you name it, then, if you’re so much cleverer than us?”

Janus froze, mouth open, clearly caught off-guard by the question. “…Jake,” they said weakly after a pause.

Remus snickered. “Oh, really?” He let go of Patton’s hand and moved closer to Janus, leaning into their personal space. “Is that your genius idea for Best Snake Name of All Time? You’re sure?”

Janus, being Janus, stood their ground. “Yes,” they mumbled, sounding only a little sheepish.

Remus traded a mischievous glance with Patton. “And you didn’t make it up on the spot because you were making fun of our ideas when you had none of your own?”

“Of… of course not,” Janus said, tone almost perfectly even and cheeks very red.

“Well,” Patton chirped, the picture of innocence standing there at his full height of 5’2” and dressed all in pastels, speaking in that particular syrupy sweet tone that was the surest sign that his partners were in an excellent kind of danger, “I think that’s a great name, honey!” He raised his eyebrows at Remus in a meaningful way.

Janus blinked. “…What?”

“Oh, definitely,” Remus agreed with a wide grin, catching Patton’s drift at once. Teaming up with Patton to tease Janus was, pretty much universally, an excellent idea. Remus hooked their chin over Janus’s shoulder from behind, wrapping his arm around their waist. “I mean, it really sums up the essence of what we desire in a pet snake, you know?” He held up a hand in front of them both, palm out and fingers spread, drawing a line as if to illuminate the word in the air. “Jake. Now there’s a name that really says dangerous. Intimidating. Cool.”

“I hate you,” Janus mumbled, tilting their head to press their temple against his in a fond little gesture that belied their words.

“Nah, you don’t.” Remus kissed his cheek. “Besides, sugar, if you don’t like it, all you gotta do is say so.” He drew Janus closer by the waist until they were pressed together, his tone turning to a teasing sing-song. “Just let us know you don’t like it. That you were pulling it out of your ass and that you think it’s silly. That you were wrong and you changed your mind.” He leaned closer so his breath fanned against their ear and lowered his voice to nearly a whisper. “Just say it. That’s all you gotta do.” He pulled away, putting on his best bright, innocent air. “Up to you, though! Pat and I clearly love it, so if you don’t say anything, we do have a unanimous winner.” He grinned at Janus.

“You are so mean,” Janus whined.

“What’s wrong, baby?” Remus asked innocently. “Don’t wanna admit you’re wrong?”

“I’m not,” Janus protested at once, “I just….”

“Yes?” Patton said sweetly. “You just what, honey?”

Janus let out a sigh. “You two are going to be the death of me, you know?”

“Why?” Remus inquired. “Because you like it when we make you squirm?”

Janus made a small strangled sound. “Oh, my god.”

“That definitely wasn’t a no, baby,” Remus purred.

Janus flushed pink once again. “I—you—let’s go look at the snakes.” They pulled free of Remus’s grasp and moved towards the door of the pet store.

“Damn. We really are those, like, super obnoxious people who just stand in the parking lot flirting for ten minutes,” Remus commented, putting his hands in the pockets of his green-blue-yellow colorblock jacket, as Janus disappeared into the store.

“Have we ever been anything else?” Patton pointed out in a practical tone. “Come on, now, sweetie, we’d better catch up before Jan buys out half the reptile section.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Remus retorted easily, but allowed Patton to tug him into the store by the hand in search of their other partner.

They found Janus in the reptile section, staring with wide eyes and a soft, open expression into one of the glass tanks. They had a tiny grin on their face as they watched the snake flick its tongue out, and after a second, the tip of their own tongue appeared in an answering blep to mirror the snake. Their expression was far less guarded—and far more happy—than they normally allowed it to be in public, and Remus was hit in the gut with an overpowering wave of remembering-just-how-gooshy-Jan-made-him emotions.

Patton cooed softly, phone at the ready in a flash; Remus leaned over, resting their chin on Patton’s shoulder, and adjusted the angle of the camera just slightly to one he knew Janus would like better. Patton clicked the shutter.

“I can see you, you know,” Janus commented quietly, eyes not leaving the snake.

“It’s not our fault you’re so pretty,” Remus responded, backed up by an emphatic nod from Patton. He moved over to stand at Janus’s side, sliding his hand possessively around their waist. “Is this Jake?” he inquired innocently.

“Oh my god,” Janus mumbled, rolling their eyes.

“What? I thought you liked that name,” Remus teased with his best evil grin. “You know, it being your idea, and you being so much better at coming up with names than us, and all.”

“You really aren’t going to let that one go, are you?” Janus sighed.

Remus put one finger under Janus’s chin and tilted their face towards himself. “Not unless you tell us exactly what you want, baby,” he breathed, letting his tone go dark.

Janus visibly swallowed, cheeks staining red. “I—” Their eyes flitted away from him, glancing around. “Remus, we’re in public.”

“Why, what did I do?” Remus asked sweetly, grinning.

“You know perfectly well what you did.”

Remus grinned wider. “Hell yeah I do,” they acknowledged. “C’mon, there’s no kids over here, I can be a little naughty.” However, having made their point, he did ease off the teasing, just for the moment. “Now, introduce me to our snakey pal here. Are we liking this one?”

Janus looked over Remus’s shoulder, and Patton was by their side at once. “I—I do like this one, I think,” Janus said, indicating the snake that had been engrossing them when Remus and Patton arrived. “But we can look around first, and talk about it.”

Patton dug in their pocket and produced the scrap of paper with the list of species they’d agreed upon as options, after several nights’ worth of internet research and heated discussion. They’d needed to find a pet that would do well in the apartment the three of them had just moved into—their first home together. It was one that would allow pets, which had been important to them, and choosing a snake as the inaugural pet of the family had been an easy decision for Remus and Patton after the way Janus lit up talking about it.

“Let’s take a look, shall we?” Patton said, unfolding the list.

While there were, frankly, a surprising number of snakes available for purchase—Remus counted at least ten—only two or three met the criteria that the three of them had put together.

“So?” Remus asked, looking at Janus expectantly when they had whittled down the options before them thus far. “What’s it gonna be, babe?”

Janus hesitated. “It’s going to be our snake. Not mine. We should all choose.”

“Yeah, but Pat and I have only been waiting for it for a few months. You’ve been waiting since you were eight. It’s important to all of us, but it’s most important to you.” Remus glanced at Patton. “Isn’t that right?”

Patton nodded. “I like all of the options, honey,” they told Janus. “I wanna know which one makes you most happy.”

Janus was silent, looking back and forth between two glass tanks and quietly stimming with their hands—rubbing their thumbs back and forth along all their other fingertips, a stim Remus recognized as one of their go-tos when thinking hard or overwhelmed. “I….” They bit their lip, looking beseechingly over at their partners, voice trailing off in what seemed like mild distress.

Remus put his arm around their waist again, drumming his fingers against their side. “Problem?” he asked, gently pushing Janus’s hair out of their face.

Janus hesitated. “I’m… stuck,” they said by way of explanation. They gestured vaguely towards their forehead. “Up here.”

Remus nodded and placed his free hand delicately on Janus’s chest, right over their heart, his fingertips barely pressing against the soft, clingy lace fabric of their long black dress. “How about here?” he asked.

Janus chewed on the inside of their mouth for a beat and shook his head. “Not stuck there.”

“Do you want to go home and come back later?” Patton asked.

Janus shook their head again, head bent and hair falling about their face as they stared into one of the snake tanks. “I know which one. I’m only second guessing myself.”

Remus wrapped both his hands around their slim waist. “Do you know what you need?” he said, the words coming easily to his tongue. He’d struck on that particular phrasing back in college; it helped when Janus was feeling stuck, usually due to either sensory overload or a disconnect between their feelings and rational thoughts. It was simple and, more importantly, it cut past the issue of explaining what the problem was, which could be hard for Janus to articulate.

Janus hesitated. “Not exactly.”

“Any ideas?” Remus prompted when they did not go on.

Janus rested one hand over Remus’s, still clasped about their side, and drummed their slim fingers on the back of his hand. “I… don’t know how I feel about the name ideas anymore,” they said slowly, as if trying to shape the thoughts in their head into words.

“Oh, that’s no problem, I was mostly just being silly,” Remus assured them at once, absently signing the word “silly” in ASL as he spoke—one of a handful of words he’d retained in his vocabulary since he spent a stint learning the language in middle school. He glanced over at Patton. “Right?”

Patton nodded. “Of course not, honey. We don’t need to pick a name right now. We can always work that out some other time.”

Janus let out a long breath. “Okay. That—that’s good. Yes.”

“Better?” Remus asked, feeling the way they had untensed against him.

Janus inclined their head once. “Less things in my head now.”

“That’s good,” Remus said. “Also,” he added, in a less serious tone, “can I just point out that I am being really good about how many times we are saying the word snake and how many dirty jokes I am not making, and you should both give me lots of attention about it?”

Janus let out a huff of laughter. “What exactly am I doing right now, pray tell?” he inquired, gesturing to where he and Remus were pressed together all down their side, and to Remus’s hand about their waist.

“Breathing, in that very sexy way you do,” Remus retorted at once with a grin.

Janus half smiled. “I’m flattered, darling.” They pressed their temple to Remus’s. “However, I was referring to the way we are practically cuddling in broad daylight. Is that not giving you attention?”

“True,” Remus agreed, giving Janus’s side an appreciative squeeze, “but you’re also giving some of your attention to these reptiles.” He gestured at the wall of tanks before them. “Let it be known that I am terribly jealous. And Pat is all the way over there, which is too far.” They pouted at Patton, standing all of twelve inches away from the pair of them.

“Yes, you’re being very good, sweetie,” Patton said, patting Remus on the cheek. “You get lots of kisses later.”

Remus beamed, catching Patton’s hand in their free hand. “Much better,” they said with a pleased chuckle, and looked back to Janus. “Are you ready to tell us which snake is coming home with us, baby?” He hooked his finger in one of Janus’s belt loops and ran his thumb back and forth along their side just above it.

Janus pursed their lips, clearly considering this. “Yes,” they said. “I really like this one.” He indicated a tank with a golden-brown, spotted snake inside; a corn snake, the same one they had been so interested in when Remus and Patton arrived.

Patton made an excited noise, and Janus’s face melted into a soft little grin at once. “I love that one!” Patton said. “That one is the best one.”

“Good.” Janus looked at Remus, the barest hint of nerves almost perfectly hidden in their face.

Remus leaned up and pecked their lips. “’S perfect, baby,” he said easily.

Janus relaxed the rest of the way, leaning into Remus’s touch and raising one hand to their mouth to cover the smile on their face. “Of course it is,” they said primly, reaching around Remus’s back to rest a hand on Patton’s shoulder. “It’s ours, after all.”

--

Taglist (ask to be added/removed!): @theimprobabledreamersworld

#dukeceitweek #sanders sides #dukeceit week #thomas sanders #thatsthat24 #dukeceit #demus #romantic dukeceit #romantic demus #intrualiceit #intruality #moceit #janus sanders #ts janus #remus sanders #ts remus #patton sanders #ts patton #ts fic #ts fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic #my writing #peregrin's starlight universe #language #innuendo

[taizi]

hii u still doing the prompts? ✨🥺 its ok if youre not doing them anymore! ^^

id love 14 foooooor, you guessed it! Natsuyuu ✨ any character u wanna write abt!! (sorry on mobile but let me try to rephrase it)

its a long story

you conned be into thinking u were dead for 11 months, i have time

PROMPTS LIST

14. “It’s a long story.” “You conned me into thinking you were dead for eleven months. I have time.”

x

Natsume's eyes are bright and angry. His arms are folded across his chest, posture guarded. It's as if Shuuichi is looking back in time, back when Natsume was a skinny, cynical fourteen-year-old who didn't trust him. Who didn't really trust anyone.

It makes Shuuichi wince and just keep wincing. His chest feels as though it's caving in. It's been years since Natsume has looked at him like he's a complete stranger.

And Shuuichi is-- tired. It's too small of a word, but it's the right one. He's weary down to his bones. He could just lay down here and sleep. In the back of his mind, he only wants to close his eyes. Keep them closed. Breathe slowly. Rest.

But Natsume is angry, rightfully angry, and looks as though he's seconds away from storming out the door. And Shuuichi has to-- has to fix it. He has to fix it first.

"Takashi," he says. His voice is gentle. He's approached feral, half-mad creatures with less care than he's approaching this.

Natsume's head jerks, in something like a quickly-aborted shake. His fingers dig into his sleeves. He probably doesn't know how young he looks.

Tanuma was in class when Shuuichi showed up, but a single text from Taki was all it took for him to leave in the middle of a lecture. He'll be here soon, and Taki isn't leaving, and Natsume's face is shuttered.

Shuuichi deserves that.

He's casting around for a starting point, for something to say, for any way to bridge this chasm between them that yawns wider and wider with every second of silence, when Natsume beats him to it.

"Where have you been?" he asks.

"Ah," Shuuichi says haltingly. "It's a long story."

Natsume's eyes flash, like he took lessons in being terrifying from the ugly cat haunting his shoulder.

"You let me think you were dead for eleven months. I have time."

Eleven months.

Shuuichi gives into the want to close his eyes.

He reaches out, unseeing, and Hiiragi fills the place beneath his hand in a heartbeat. She's not warm but she's solid, familiar, and one of the only reasons he's still alive.

His grip would have been bruising, were she human. It feels like he's been awake for years. He's so tired.

"You were on the other side, weren't you?" Madara says suddenly. "You went across the river."

The breath almost audibly goes out of the room. Shuuichi is still standing there like a fool, eyes closed, hand curling and uncurling around Hiiragi's because he needs the reminder of her.

"What are you talking about, sensei?" Natsume asks.

"I can smell it on him," Madara says. "The river. The one all you humans cross someday."

"I'm sorry," Taki says loudly, not at all apologetically, "but what the hell does that mean?"

Madara is talking again, explaining, but Shuuichi isn't following it anymore. His eyes are still closed, so tightly that stars start bursting through the dark.

Eleven months. Almost a year.

A hand lights on his arm, as gently as a bird coming in for a landing. When he pries his eyes open, it's to find Natsume much closer than he was before. His guard down, his heart pried wide open, the way it always is for his friends.

He's warm. Shuuichi hasn't been warm in a long time. Longer than he realized.

"I didn't know it was a year," Shuuichi tells him. It seems like an important thing to tell him. "I tried to get back."

"Okay," Natsume says warily.

It's his turn to approach with care. It's unfair that his anger should have to take the back-burner to whatever this is. He's allowed to be angry-- Shuuichi did what he promised he would never do and fully disappeared from his life.

But Natsume has never been one to cling to anger. He says, "You're back now. So it's okay."

Even now that he's not hugging himself, holding himself together, Natsume still looks laughably young. His hair is falling out of its tail, fringe hanging into his wide green eyes. He's wearing Tanuma's sweater, two sizes too big.

He's Shuuichi's family. One of the two closest things he's ever had to a little brother. One of first things he thinks of when he thinks of home. The touchstone that guided him back, through the dark. Through the water.

Shuuichi can't let go of Hiiragi, but he has two hands. When he lifts his other one, Natsume snatches it like it's an offer that might expire. Wraps both of his hands around Shuuichi's one and holds on tight. Anchors him.

"You're back," Natsume says again, as though one of them still needs convincing. His eyes are glassy. "I'm sorry that you-- that I didn't-- I thought you-- "

"I prefer you shouting at me to whatever this is," Shuuichi croaks, partly because it's true, and partly because it makes Taki bark out a laugh, half-hysterical, and Natsume verbally trip over whatever apology he was trying to scrape together. "Where did that angry face go? It was precious."

"Shut up," Natsume says immediately, a knee-jerk reaction. "How are you like this? Right now?"

The front door opens with a considerable amount of noise, and then there's the telling clatter of Tanuma and his gangly scarecrow self tripping over the umbrella stand, and when he finally comes into the room it's with a sheepish expression and a bag full of takeout.

"You brought him food?" Madara asks skeptically. "For all you knew, he'd been playing dead for the last year. And you thought he deserved free dinner?"

"When a friend comes back from the dead, the least they deserve is free dinner, Ponta," Tanuma says.

He's not as soft-spoken as he was when he was a boy, but his tone is always gentle. He always speaks kindly. He sets the bag down on the table, and smiles at Shuuichi as though it hasn't been a year since they last spoke. Another little sibling. Another anchor. All three of them.

"If he didn't have a reason for being gone, he wouldn't have come back," Tanuma adds. "I knew that much as soon as I got Tooru's text."

"That's because you're a better person than all the rest of us put together," Taki says. She's smiling now, too, the last of the uncertainty and worry leeched away, because Tanuma's presence in a room just does that. Always has.

Natsume hasn't budged. He's still looking at Shuuichi with wide green eyes.

"I'm sorry I didn't help you," he says. "I-- we looked for you. But we should have done more. We-- I should have helped you."

He's clearly shaken. Whatever Madara told him about the river, whatever that ugly cat has been saying while Shuuichi's mind drifted in and out of service like a cellphone with shitty reception, it's enough to give him an idea of the kind of place Shuuichi was trapped in.

Shuuichi is too tired to have this argument. He's swaying on his feet. If he doesn't pay attention, his mind makes up monsters, dredges up the memory of dark, rushing water. He can still almost hear it, a fuzzy white noise in the back of his mind. He'll probably always hear it. He went someplace he wasn't supposed to go.

So he holds onto Hiiragi, holds onto Natsume, listens to the sound of conversation and cutlery as Tanuma and Taki set the table. He'll tell them everything tomorrow.

For now, he says, "You did help. You were there."

They all were. All three of them. He never would have made it back across the river without these kids-- without Hiiragi's strong, guiding hands-- without this cramped little kitchen waiting for him at the end of a long, crooked bridge, reminding him of what he could have again if he only kept walking.

#natsume yuujinchou #natsuyuu #natori shuuichi #natsume takashi #nyanko sensei #taki tooru #tanuma kaname #my writing #natsuyuu fic #prompt #nycnko #aaaaa i love a future fic idk why #this is like...... a spirited away au sort of #lets go with that #this prompt was always going to have to go to natori #i just had to like.........figure out in WHAT modern day universe could a famous actor just disappear for 11 months #but in a way that wouldnt infuriate me #🙃🙃 #ANY 'pretending to be dead' fic has to be real convincing for me to not get mad at the character who put their friends through all that bs #but i digress !!! #this is not that deep

[ptergwen]

let’s just pretend

w/c: 3.5k

warnings: rom com references, drinking, and a little bit of angst

summary: you cope with your feelings for peter by getting drunk on halloween

a/n: ok i really really love this and i loved writing it too? it’s the first like original idea i’ve had in a while so maybe that’s why but yeah i hope y’all enjoy and that this puts you in a halloweenish mood :-)

-

there’s something about fall that makes you nostalgic. the same images pop into your head whenever you hear the word october. pumpkin patches, colorful leaves, and hot coffee. it reminds you of being a kid. only when you were a kid, all you could think about this time of year was what you were going to be for halloween.

you’d spend weeks getting your costume together and coordinating with all your friends. trick or treating was literally the only thing that mattered. if you wanted to get good candy, you had to have a good costume.

the high school version of candy is alcohol. everyone just goes to parties so they can drink the whole night. no one even dresses up usually. you personally would rather have chocolate than cheap beer. your whole friend group agrees on that.

that’s why you decided to throw your own party this year. anyone who misses the old halloween can come hang out. so far it’s only peter, mj, ned, betty, and the rest of the decathlon team coming. betty invited everyone for you. she also asked liz, but she’s going to flash’s party. he only gets so many people because his parents are never home and don’t care if he raids the liquor cabinet. whatever.

you’re out finding something to wear with peter and mj a few hours before it starts. ned and betty already picked their costumes. she’s going as an angel, and he’s going as the devil. you think they should switch. they’re out shopping for snacks while the three of you hit up spirit halloween.

mj groans every single second there’s silence, and peter keeps getting scared by the motion sensor decorations. he eventually ends up having to go somewhere in the store that doesn’t have any. so, it’s a lot.

“why don’t you be a vampire?” mj asks in her fake interested voice, taking a pair of fangs off the rack in front of her. you scoff. “i think i did that in sixth grade.” she puts them back with a huff. “witch?” she’s just suggesting every costume she sees so you can get out of here. her lack of enthusiasm makes you want to take longer.

“no.”

“zookeeper?”

“eh.”

“what about cat in the hat?”

“mj, what? no.”

“uh... school girl?”

“ok, that’s just offensive.”

“you’re right. why do they have that?” she eyes the costume suspiciously. you cover it up with a random cloak that fell onto the floor. you’re never going to find anything at this point. maybe it’s a sign you’re too old for this. just when you’re about to lose all hope, peter comes over.

he’s holding up the plaid yellow skirt and blazer cher wears in clueless. it’s one of the most iconic rom com outfits. you grab it with a gasp, peter giving you a knowing smile. “oh my god! wait, where did you find this?” “they have a section with movie stuff.” there’s a han solo costume in his other hand.

you throw an arm around his neck for a quick hug. peter squeezes you and chuckles when he pulls away. it gets a sigh out of mj.

“sure you don’t wanna be the guy she ends up with?” she elbows peter’s arm. the two of you share a disgusted look. “josh? ew, he’s her ex stepbrother,” you dismiss her. “they’re, like, related,” peter adds. mj rolls her eyes almost to the back of her head and starts to walk away. “someone needs to unplug both of your tv’s.” you and peter follow after her.

of course she would suggest a couple’s costume. she was probably trying to make you both get weird. you’re always being teased for spending so much time together. even your parents and may make little comments about it. you can’t help the fact that you have almost everything in common.

peter is the only person your age who doesn’t try so hard to be cool. when you’re with him, you can be the biggest nerd and wear fluffy pajamas and play with legos. it’s a judgement free friendship.

you’ll admit you’ve wanted it to become a judgement free relationship. there’s no way he doesn’t feel your heart beating against him when you cuddle during movie nights. he has to notice your goofy smile whenever he calls you a nickname.

but, it could all be platonic in peter’s mind. maybe he sees you as more of a sister. that would make josh the perfect costume to go with you as cher.

you shutter and try to push the idea out of your mind for the rest of your time at spirit halloween.

it’s almost time for the party to start when you get back to your house. your parents let betty and ned in to start setting up on their way out. they’re going for dinner so they aren’t around to embarrass you. you have until midnight, then there’s nothing you can do. that gives you four hours.

mj is changing into the coraline costume you made her get, which she actually doesn’t hate. betty is helping you do some last minute decorating. peter and ned are putting out snacks. it’s a really good system you have.

“love the the plaid, y/n. you look so fetch!” betty compliments in between throwing fake cobwebs over your couch. you snort and finish stringing up some lights. “wrong movie, but thanks.” “oh. oops,” she shrugs and gets back to cobwebbing. “peter found it for me.” all the lights are up, so you go to plug them in. betty giggles on your way over.

your living room has an orange glow to it now. dusting your hands off, you admire your work. the moment of admiration ends when you notice how betty is looking at you. “what?” “peter found it for you,” she repeats suggestively. “when he was getting his costume, yeah,” you say like it’s nothing because it is nothing.

“so, what i’m hearing is he wanted to see you in a skirt.” you furrow your eyebrows at her. “what? no, he just-“ she wiggles her own eyebrows at you. you’re going to start sweating if you talk about this any longer. too aware of yourself now, you pull down your skirt and trudge over to the stairs. “i’m gonna go check on mj.”

you’re in the middle of convincing her she looks great and to leave your room when everyone calls your name downstairs.

“what?” you shout back from behind the closed door. “you should get down here.” it’s only peter this time. mj widens her eyes at you, but you’re gone before she can say she isn’t wearing this again.

you make your way down the stairs. the three of them are huddled in front of the door. “is someone here?” you mouth, ned looking off to the side awkwardly. they all move out of the way so you can see who it is. it’s flash. you’re obviously surprised to see him at your house, especially since he’s supposed to be having his own party right now.

“um, what are you doing here?” you try not to sound mean. “didn’t you invite the whole decathlon team? i’m on it.” you’d forgotten about that. peter says he’s only an alternate. flash side steps past you to get inside. you didn’t say he could come in. he heads straight to the chip bowl on your living room coffee table. you’re left shaking your head in pure confusion.

“dude, kick him out,” ned whispers to you. you wave your hand dismissively and walk over. he’s kicking his legs up on the table when you get there. “dope outfit. you look good.” he winks and crunches on a tostito. peter is clenching his jaw, but no one sees. “why are you in my house, flash?” you push the bowl away from him. “oh, yeah. my parents came home from vegas early.”

mj finally gets downstairs, squinting at whatever is going on with you while she walks over to everyone else. “i thought we could combine parties.” flash eyes your friends in a way you don’t like. “all your guests are pretty much here, so don’t worry about space.”

you look back at peter to see what he thinks. he shakes his head no. betty is nodding her head so fast you’re pretty sure she’s going to get whiplash. ned agrees with whatever she thinks, and mj doesn’t care. majority rules. plus, you could use one of flash’s playlists to liven things up. how bad could it really be?

“text everyone my address.”

people are flooding your house in the next fifteen minutes. like, your entire grade might be here. flash hooks his phone up to your speakers and blasts his songs. people grab fistfuls of candy and dance around. you’re running low on soda, but one guy brought extra drinks. alcoholic drinks, which you’re uneasy about. that was a big reason why you wanted to have your own party in the first place.

you don’t want to be a lame host, so you let it slide. a girl is sitting on top of your kitchen counter making out with someone. people are yelling so loud you can’t make out a single conversation. this is all going on and yet somehow, the most surprising thing is that they came in costume. some are more casual, like cat ears and lifeguard hoodies. it still counts.

feeling a little bit lost in your own house, you search for peter. he’s sitting on the top stair just watching what’s going on. you get his attention by throwing a mini packet of sour patch kids at him. he catches it, grinning when he realizes you did that. “i love these.” “good. they were the only ones left.” you take a seat next to him and scratch at the material of his vest for emphasis.

“i can’t believe you said yes to him.” peter opens the sour patch kids. the first one is yellow, so he offers it to you. sharing food with him always works because you each seem to like what the other doesn’t. “neither can i, but i think betty would’ve actually hurt me if i didn’t,” you joke while chewing. he rolls his eyes, but he’s still smiling. “please. she’s too nice.”

you lean your head on peter’s shoulder and grab another gummy. he pokes your arm in protest. “this bag is small. get your own.” you’re nuzzling your cheek against him. “i told you they’re gone.” he’s about to put an arm around you when someone screams downstairs. you quickly sit up.

“i’m gonna go see what the hell that was. i’ll find you later?” peter does his best to hide his disappointment. “yeah, of course. good luck.” you clench your teeth and run down the stairs. this is somehow flash’s fault.

it’s been an hour and a half, and peter is nowhere to be seen. the chaos was just that someone really liked the song that was playing. it didn’t take you long to figure that out. when you went to tell peter, he was gone. you’ve looked everywhere for him since, except the backyard.

a pretty big group of people is out here either playing catch or talking. someone also brought a case of beer outside. you spot mj huddled up by the fence with a bottle. it doesn’t necessarily surprise you. it’s weird to see, either way.

“have you seen peter?” you walk up to her. she uses the bottle to gesture somewhere. he’s in the middle of a conversation with liz. your entire body feels like it’s collapsing into itself. it didn’t cross your mind she would be coming even when the party moved to your house.

she’s nice and all. you don’t have any issues with her. not that she knows about, at least. peter had the biggest crush on her for about a month, then it fizzled out. that’s what he told you. unless, he said that to save face.

you’re speechless. mj figured you would be. she gives you a sympathetic smile and holds out her beer. “yep. drink up.” your instincts tell you to take it, so you do. she heads back inside and leaves you alone with your thoughts. that’s not good for you. the only to way to get rid of them is by chugging the rest of this bottle.

you’ve never had your own drink before, and technically you aren’t now. this is still the most alcohol you’ll ever have in your system. before you can change your mind, you take a generous swig. it’s bitter. you don’t hate it as much as you expected to, though.

your eyes land on liz touching peter’s shoulder. that inspires your next big gulp of beer. you finish off the rest, and it hits you fast. you’re understanding why this is such a popular vice. you don’t feel anything but how tipsy you are. light and floaty. you decide to stumble back into the kitchen and find out what other drinks people brought.

the bright color of your costume catches peter’s attention. he was wondering where you were. excusing himself from liz, he follows you in. you bump into betty on your way to the punch bowl someone filled. she’s holding a red solo cup with the mystery liquid. both of you buzzed, you laugh and grab her arm.

“sorry. s- sorry.” you’re squeezing behind her, her angel wings brushing against your face in the process. you have to weave through everyone to make it to the drink table. peter meets you there when you’re getting a cup. he’s shocked.

“y/n?” smiling lazily, you take a sip. “hey, peter. pete.” the sober voice in your head tells you to stop talking. he probably shouldn’t know you’re drunk. then again, your cup gives it away. “y/n, have you been drinking?” he sounds concerned. everything is funny to you right now. you giggle out a “yes.”

peter doesn’t want to be that person, but you’re not acting right. he reaches for your drink. you pull it away too abruptly, and some of it spills onto the floor. “you... you’re so...“ you start losing your balance. “woah.” peter wraps an arm around your waist to steady you. he takes the drink out of your hand and sets it on the table.

frowning, he throws your arm around his shoulders so he can help you get upstairs. “come on, y/n/n.” you don’t argue this time. you’re at the part of being drunk where it doesn’t feel good anymore. peter holds you close to his side and walks you out of the kitchen. he stops to talk to ned for a second.

“hey, man. y/n’s parents are gonna be home soon. could you get everyone out?” he says into his ear. “why can’t she do it?” peter moves out of the way so he’s not blocking you. ned sees. you’re completely faded. “oh, shit. is she okay?” he whisper yells. “i’m gonna take care of her.” “i’ll tell everyone to go.” peter presses his lips into a tight smile, then he’s taking you up to your room.

you flop down onto your bed face first. peter shuts the door behind you. “you okay?” he chuckles, you nodding with your face smushed into the comforter. he’d think it was cute if you weren’t piss drunk. gently nudging you, he moves you so you’re on your back.

“let’s get you out of this.” “ooh, betty was right. you do like me in a skirt,” you giggle and bat your eyelashes at him. he huffs. “no, i mean you have to put on pajamas.” you’re pouting now. “you don’t like me in a skirt?” after going through your drawers, he comes back over with a big t-shirt and fuzzy pants. “i never said that.”

you grin again and grab them from him. “ha.” “do you need help changing?” he sits at the edge of your bed. you’re still laying down. he’s not sure you can handle getting up. “no. don’t be creepy,” you say completely serious. peter has to remind himself you’re drunk. “you were the one who thought i wanted you naked, but ok.”

making peter close his eyes, you peel the costume off your body. you got pretty sweaty. you kick everything onto the floor and start putting on your pajamas. your head gets stuck in an arm hole by accident, so peter has to fix that. the rest is fine. he’s about to bring you into the bathroom to brush your teeth, but you face plant into his lap. you’re out.

the next morning, you wake up feeling like ass. your breath is hot and tastes disgusting. your head is pounding. you could throw up. you’re not even sure how you ended up in your bed. then, you notice peter sitting at your desk. he must have helped you in.

a vague memory of him tucking you under the covers while you whined comes back to you, along with a few others. one of them is of him and liz. the whole reason you did this to yourself.

“hey.” your voice comes out hoarse. “hi.” peter nods and points to your night table. there’s a fresh glass of water. you drink it all down as fast as humanely possible, a hand on your heart. it doesn’t phase him after what you did last night. you set the empty glass down and pat the spot next to you. peter sits by your side.

he’s still dressed as han solo, but his vest and belt are sprawled out on the floor. the boots are under your desk. he actually stayed all night for you.

“i think i’m hungover.” you rest your head against his arm. his body relaxes. “you didn’t drink that much. mj said she gave you half a beer,” he almost laughs, you groaning. “that means i’m a lightweight.” “for now.” your arm wrapping around his, you look up at him.

“sorry you had to deal with me. am i in trouble?” “nah, your parents don’t know. we cleaned everything up before they got home.” he lightly pats the top of your head with two fingers. you squeeze your eyes shut when he does it. “you did? thank you so much, wow.” peter nods and smiles for a second.

he lays his back against the pillow on his side. “let’s just pretend that never happened.” “you’re good at pretending,” you mumble to yourself. you’re not as quiet as you think because peter hears it. “um, what?” you feel too woozy to come up with a cover. letting out a breath, you take your head and hands off of him.

“i saw you talking with liz.” “she wanted to know if i could lead decathlon practice next week. she’s not gonna be in school,” he says slowly, not getting it. “why?” having to spell it out is making you frustrated. “didn’t you say you don’t like her anymore?” “yeah, i don’t.”

“so, why was she being all... touchy?” the jealousy is clear in your voice. peter shrugs. “that’s how liz is. i still don’t get why it matters.” you ease yourself to sit up and turn to face him. those three words you’ve been meaning to tell him are on the absolute tip of your tongue. they’re about to come out.

then...

“i like you, y/n.”

peter says them for you.

you’re so surprised you nearly vomit for real. or, it could be the possible hangover. almost a minute has gone by when you realize you’ve been sitting there with your mouth hanging open. you swallow your spit. “you... you do?” “a lot. i kept trying to tell you, but there was never a good time.” his voice is softer now.

“i realized after homecoming. i wished i went with you instead of...” he doesn’t have to finish the sentence. you nod, a small smile spreading across your face. peter’s eyes are so hopeful. “i like you, too. a lot.” your gaze trails down to his lips.

“i’d kiss you if my breath didn’t stink.” “i’ll let you owe me one.” he’s fully grinning now, and both of you laugh. they’re the kind of laughs you do because you’re so happy you don’t know what to say.

peter presses his lips to your temple, your eyes fluttering closed. “get some more sleep. i’m gonna ask you out when you wake up,” he mumbles against your hair. you grab his hand that’s resting on the comforter. “can you stay with me?” “of course.”

he lays down next to you. you pull back the covers so he can get under them. your head is resting on his chest, an arm around his torso. both of his hug your waist. you’re instantly comfortable cuddled up in his embrace. you drift off to sleep with a smile.

this feels like such a dream. it’s the exact type of situation you’d make up in your head. but, it’s real. peter is still holding you when you wake up. he’s not going anywhere.

#tom holland #peter parker fluff #peter parker imagine #tom holland smut #tom holland fluff #peter parker smut #tom holland x reader

[ronnie-azumane]

Flower Rings

Hello everyone! I'm here with another Anisylum collab! This is the first time writing for my OG anime husband, so please go easy on me. But yeah! I hope y'all enjoy and check out the other works from the other creators participating!

CW: Abuse/beating, fluffy hurt/comfort, ATTACK ON TITAN MANGA SPOILERS, mentions of trauma, suicide, and death.

Life in the ghetto wasn’t a walk in the park. Sure, life could be worse, (Y/N) could be going hungry at night, slowly turning into skin and bones. (Y/N) could be shivering the night away in a flimsy tent with a single blanket to keep warm.

Although it’s a little hard to be grateful for what you have when it feels like the oppressor is always watching your every move.

It doesn’t take a genius to see the lack of justice in these ghettos provided by the Marleyan regime, however, young (Y/N) didn’t pay attention to her oppressors as much, they’re only a child after all. Why would they even want to be concerned about politics when the neighbors are playing a game of kickball?

Almost like clockwork, every week at precisely 5pm, the children born in the ghetto would gather in a courtyard and play kickball, with the ball being an old ball accidentally thrown over the fence years ago and the bases marked by old linens.

Kids of all ages gathered as usual at the court yard to divide out the teams and begin their game of ball. (Y/N) wasn’t the youngest there, but at seven years old, they were still young and scrawny, so it was no surprise that (Y/N) was one of the last ones picked.

(Y/N) sighed in relief, however, when they saw that Reiner was on their team. Reiner was three years older than (Y/N), and pretty much tied to their hip. Since both their mothers were friends growing up, they always had playdates together, playing with various figures and creating these elaborate plots to go along with them.

“We’re on the same team? Yes!” Reiner celebrates, jumping around excitedly as any ten year old would.

“You’re only celebrating because you’re too chicken to face me,” (Y/N) teased, sticking their tongue out.

A succession of ‘am not’s and ‘am to’s was promptly stopped when one of the older kids shouted that the game was about to start. Team Black would be kicking first while Team White would pitch.

(Y/N)’s favorite part of the game was kicking, so finding out that the Black Team was kicking first was music to their ears. They ran to the line, getting as close to the front as they could. Reiner held back, as he preferred catching the ball and running fast to get someone out.

(Y/N) was finally up to kick. Team Black had an out and kids on second and third base. If they scored, their team would get their first point.

The ball bounced a slight bit as it made its way toward (Y/N). (Y/N) wound back their leg and hit the ball back, aiming in between the second and third base. The ball flew and (Y/N) sprinted to first base.

What (Y/N) failed to realize was that Jameson, the eight year old boy that had a personal goal of making every day miserable for (Y/N), was waiting by first base.

As they ran toward the base, Jameson positioned himself to where his foot would ‘accidently’ get in the way of (Y/N)’s footing. Sure enough, (Y/N) stepped on his foot, causing them to lose their balance and fall to the ground before hitting the base.

“What the hell, (Y/N), you stepped on my foot!” Jameson shouted, landing a kick in (Y/N)’s side. (Y/N) yelped in pain as they curled into themself.

“You put your foot there on purpose,” (Y/N) sniffled as pain-filled tears leaked from their eyes.

“So what if I did? You still should have avoided it,” Jameson landed another kick to their side.

Reiner, who was zoned out looking at a bee buzzing around, snapped back to reality when he heard (Y/N) yelp in pain in the distance. Before he could think, he found himself running over to the two and punching Jameson square in the face.

Before Jameson could retaliate, Reiner picked up (Y/N) from the ground and ran away from the game, carrying them on his back. Deciding it was not worth the effort, Jameson let them run off as he got back to his game, but not before the team captain of the day switched him to outfield as punishment.

With (Y/N) on his back, Reiner ran to their self proclaimed happy place, if you could call anywhere in the ghetto happy. Near the entrance gate, there was a patch of grass where wildflowers grow, giving them a taste of the natural world that was unknown to them within the walls of the ghetto. He set them down and plopped next to their shuttering frame.

“How are you feeling, (Y/N), are you hurt? Do we need to go to the doctor?” Reiner asked.

“I’m hurt, but I don’t want to go to the doctor.”

“Are you still afraid that the doctor is going to give you a shot?” Reiner teased.

“Shut up! Needles are scary!” (Y/N) whined, causing Reiner to giggle.

Soon enough, the pain in (Y/N)’s side began to fade, and they focused themselves on making a flower crown while Reiner watched the Marleyan soldiers outside the gate train.

“My mama wants me to be a warrior, but I’m not too sure that's what I want to do,” Reiner sighed, lying all the way back on his back.

“How come? Isn’t becoming a warrior one of the best things an Eldian can do for Marley?” (Y/N) asked.

“Yeah, but that would mean I would have to work really hard, while buttheads like Jameson would get to play and make fun of you. It wouldn’t be fair!”

“Why are boys like Jameson so mean anyway? My mommy told me that it just meant that he liked me, but why would someone be mean to someone they liked?” (Y/N) asked.

“Is that a thing?” Reiner asks.

“That’s what mommy says,” (Y/N) finished their flower crown and unceremoniously flopped it onto Reiner’s head, earning a giggle from him. “I wouldn’t want to marry a guy like Jameson, I would want to marry a guy like you, Reiner, who’s nice to me.”

“Then how about we make a promise?” Reiner asked.

“A promise?”

“Yeah, like, we promise to marry each other now, and once we get big we actually do it?” Reiner’s cheeks were now bright red.

“Yeah! I like that! I promise to marry you, Reiner,” (Y/N) extended a pinky out.

Reiner crudely plucked a flower from the ground and tied the stem around (Y/N)’s finger. Reiner’s fingers were chubby and unskilled, so the flower ring didn’t turn out as pretty as the crown, yet (Y/N) still stared at it.

“And I promise to marry you, (Y/N).”

XXX

Reiner ended up joining the Warriors a few years later, to the dismay of (Y/N). The flower ring had since shriveled up beyond repair, but (Y/N) refused to let go of their promise, thinking that if the flower stayed in their possession, it would guarantee Reiner’s safe return home.

However, the mission that was estimated to take the four warriors a year or two to complete turned into a major failure with rumors stating that only one of them was making it home. However, (Y/N) didn’t have the time to mourn her lost friend, Marley was still causing conflict in both the battle front and the home front.

It wouldn’t be until after the Rumbling ended when (Y/N) would meet up with Reiner again. He was in the area negotiating peace with some other nations, and decided a late lunch and catch-up session with his childhood friend was in order.

“So, how was going through puberty like on an island without modern medicine?” (Y/N) asked shamelessly.

“What happened to hello?” Reiner asked, causing (Y/N) to erupt in laughter.

“I’m just sad I didn’t get to witness voice-crack Reiner,” (Y/N) wiped a tear from their eye, causing Reiner to groan.

They then began to catch up, retelling all their experiences from the past thirteen years. Reiner went into detail as to what it was like training with the man who almost killed all of humanity, his trauma, and even his suicide attempt while (Y/N) retold moments of agony in the ghetto, their dad getting drafted for one of the countless wars, and even confessed that they and Jameson dated at one point.

“You! And him!” Reiner stuttered.

“Apparently my mom was right, Jameson pretended he hated me because he couldn’t decipher his own feelings. Dumped his ass a while ago though, he started spending all his money on alcohol.”

“So I’m assuming you’re not seeing anyone?” Reiner asked.

“Not at the moment, why do you ask?”

“Well, (Y/N), I may have had ulterior motives to this lunch,” Reiner pulled out a small box from his pocket and set it on the table, inviting (Y/N) to open it up. Inside was a ring, with the centerpiece shaped as the flower that he tied onto (Y/N)’s finger all those years ago.

“What is this?” (Y/N) stuttered.

“You probably don’t remember, but one day, I gave you a flower ring with a promise. I’m sure it’s long gone by now.”

“Yeah, lost it in the rumbling. Are you really proposing to me right now?”

“No no no! This is just a reminder of that promise we made that afternoon. That promise helped me push through all the hardships I faced,” Reiner flailed his arms a bit, getting slightly flustered.

“So, a promise ring?”

“I promised I’d marry you, didn’t I?” Reiner asked as he pulled out his pinky. Smiling, (Y/N) slipped on the ring and interlocked their pinky with his.

“You did, Reiner, you did.”

#attack on titan #aot #aot spoilers #reiner x y/n #reiner braun #reiner x reader #reader insert #attack on titan x reader #h/c #server collab #I tried my best but classes start tomorrow and I'm lowkey nervous

[forthehpfanboys]

Quidditch and T

Pair: Ron Weasley x Reader; he/him; transmasculine reader.

Summary: Harry surprises Ron with tickets to the Quidditch World Cup after the war, after Hermione and after finding out Ron has a crush on the first professional trans masculine the Chudley Canons or the World Cup has ever seen. 

Warnings: Swearing, Alcohol, tiny amount of transphobia?? super long, focuses on Ron more than it should, super long and probably really bad.

Notes: Trans masculine reader again! We love to see it- No one asked for this but I liked the idea. Also, Ron has long hair because I love him and Harry is a good friend. The bestest of friends.

~DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE~

-

Even with the second wizarding war years behind them, everyone struggled to regain control over themselves. Loved ones were lost far too soon, strained relationships came crashing down and businesses all but shattered like glass, but that was a year or two after. Families were beginning to recover and move forward, but some struggled. It was only natural, that was why the Ministry decided to bring at least a tiny bit of normality back to everyone's life with the Quidditch World Cup. They thought it would bring some light in the barely lit times everyone lived in.

While life for some was morphing back to a semi stable state, times were transitioning to a new era. Of course, no one batted an eye or fought against her when the Hermione Jean Granger demanded rights for wizards, witches and sorcerers who were, for lack of a better word, different. Not after everything she’d done for the world with Harry Potter and Ron Weasley and especially not after S.P.E.W.  The world really was shifting for the better.

She created two acts for equality. If house elves can have it, why can’t magical humans who just- feel different. Hermione called it S.P.L.A.T.E.R, also known as Sorcerers Lover Protection Against The Everyday Routine, and it was meant to protect wizards and witches who desire relationships with the same sex against discrimination. The talented witch went on to create a similar movement against portraying gender and identity; The Sorcerer’s Typical Identity or Gender May Alter Shield, better known as S.T.I.G.M.A.S. Both were very welcomed by the public, which happened a good year before the game would be returning, and that led to you gaining your dream job.

You were able to join the Chudley Cannons, your dream team despite their reputation. You were naturally talented on a broom and weren’t afraid to pull some risky stunts to get the golden snitch, plus it fueled your ego to hear the crowd gasp, go silent then cheer loud enough to be heard from Mars. The team and their fans didn’t care that you were the only trans masculine player, in fact, they loved you! The team was very proud to have you be their seeker and it was even better when the Cannons got into the World Cup. You basically carried the team, and they fucking knew it.

Your face made the front page almost weekly, quoting comments from your games and showing off your merchandise like it was no big deal. While you caught the attention of many wizards, witches and magical humans in between, there was one who was absolutely fascinated, maybe borderline obsessed, with you. You somehow stuck in his head, causing him to repaint his room in his shared flat bright orange just like his childhood bedroom. The ex-auror even went as far as getting your newly printed poster. He would glance at it when he was writing letters to his mother, but then would spend a good few solid minutes staring at it, daydreaming about meeting  you and lose track of time. Life got a little harder with the moving poster in his room. Of course you had no idea the famous Ron Weasley was a die-hard fan of yours.

The youngest Weasley son ended up being the first out of three up everyday just to read the newest info about (Y/n) ‘Point Breaker’ (L/n) and the rest of the team. He didn’t want to admit it, but he knew enough about you to be considered a borderline stalker and couldn’t help but spew facts about you to his twin brothers. Those very twins would tease him about his newly found crush but were secrealty very happy that he was getting over his heart break.

Ron and Hermione, more Hermione, had decided splitting and remaining friends was better for them, leading to the poor bloke locked in the spare room of his older brother's flat for a solid week. They told everyone it was mutual, but it was clear to Fred, George and Harry that it was most definitely not a decision that they were both fond of. Harry could still remember the frantic howler he got from Fred and George saying their little brother all but stopped functioning as a human.

He only started eating and showering once he heard the team was up and running again. He figured that was why Harry showed up to the flat one afternoon with tickets to the sold out game. When Ron asked his best mate how he got them, he just smiled and said something about knowing people and favors being exchanged. The ticket was more like a bandage encased in clear plastic and stuck to a lanyard, which is what Ron was fiddling with the day of the game when his best friend suddenly appeared in the middle of the flat.

“Bloody hell, Harry!” Ron screeched out as he steadied himself in his chair. His hand gripped at the shirt on his chest and chose to ignore the head rushing to his cheeks. “Could’ve sent me a warning!” He let out a slow sigh, trying to steady his rapid heart beat. 

“Where’s the fun in that?” Harry laughed out. The professor had his hands in his jacket pocket, a sly grin across his face. “Come on then! Game’s gonna be starting soon!” The raven haired male all but yaned his freckle covered friend out of the chair.

“Ok! Ok, sheesh. Let me grab a jacket.” The red-head knew this was going to be a game that leaked late into the night. Both teams were itching to get the trophy and forget about their troubles- It was gonna be absolutely beautiful. 

Grabbing his coat and reaching into the pocket, Ron pulled out an elastic band and put his hair up into a messy bun quickly before tucking the jacket into his arm. He walked over to Harry, who was gazing at the photo-covered walls of the flat.

“If you want, I can take ca-” Harry was cut off by Ron grabbed his hand.

“No, it’s fine. I like it like this.” Ron shook his head back and forth causing the messy ball to swap back and forth. “Come on. You were the one rushing us.” Harry let out a simple chuckle before apperating them to the field. 

“Tadah!” Harry did a fancy little wave, gesturing to the crowded field and began to make his way down the hell, passing by the old boot. Ron looked down at it as they passed before looking back at his best friend.

“Damn, it has been far too long.” Ron sighed out. A smile broke out across his face when he saw little kids running around with paint covered faces and happy couples sharing tea outside of their tents. “Do we have a tent?” 

“Nope, won’t be needing one this time around.” Harry shoved his hands in his pants pocket.

“No ten- Blimey, Harry, this is a game! This is going to go on for hours-”

“Ron-” 

“Won’t need it my arse. Hours, Harry. Where are we going to sit? The damp ground?” Ron was flaring his hands about.

“We get to spend our time in the Minister’s Box, Ron, relax.” Harry shook his head in mock disapproval before adjusting his glasses and moving forward. 

“Minister’s Box-” Ron’s voice stuttered out.

“Yeah! Isn’t that cool? We’re gonna be in the middle of the action!” Harry waved to a child who had recognized him with a smile.

“Ministry box-” Ron was’t used to such luguries, even after working with his brothers at their shop. Harry figured he’d never get used to being spoiled like this. It made him choke back a soft snicker.

“Yes, Ronald, the Minister’s Box, now hurry up! I told them we’d get there before the game started so we can chat.” Harry grabbed the lagging boy’s wrist and proceeded to maneuver through the crowd with him. 

“How did ya score this, Harry?” Ron all but yelled over the crowd. Once Harry dragged them through the crowd and to the front doors of the stadium, he spoke up.

“Remember when we went on that assignment to stop LeStrange again? Just before her Dementors Kiss about a month before we quit?” He handed the ticketier his lanyard to check over. Ron did the same before they both entered.

“Yeah? What about it?” Ron’s blue eyes glanced across the crowded inside. Gods, it really had been a while since he’d been here. It felt normal, like he almost hadn’t lost Fred to an explosion, like Harry’s life wasn’t on the line everyday, like every day wasn’t terrifying. Ron turned his attention back to his friend when he spoke up again.

“Well just before that, I went on a loner mission. This one involved taking care of some dark witch who was claiming she could bring back the dead and threatened to bring back Voldemort and the Death Eaters, so they sent me down to check it out.” Harry led him to an elevator, where the gate opened allowing the pair to step in. There was an exhausted looking male standing in uniform, most likely a worker from the Ministry himself. “Ministers Box, kind sir. Thank you.” The gate closed with a shuttering rattle and soon they were moving upward. Green eyes turned back to blue to finish the story. “Anyway, turns out she was actually trying to resurrect the noseless twat, but instead of over time or promotion, I asked for this and the best seats in the house. Figured this would be a good gift for you.”

“Gift? Harry, bud, mate, my fuckin best friend.” Ron placed a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “You didn’t have to do this for me. You’ve already done your fair share of helping me. Blimey, I’m not worth this.”

The gate opened again, allowing the two ex-aurors to step out but not before tossing a few sickles to the poor man who looked bored out of his mind. Ron casted him a short wave before he was sent back down.

“You deserve more than a crummy game and a nice seat, Ronnie. You literally helped me destroy Voldemort.”

“I didn’t do that much and besides it’s not a crummy game!” Ron took his hand away from Harry's shoulder. They walked down the short hallway to the door leading to their seats, but paused just before opening it. “That’s fuckin wild, isn’t it?” Ron grumbled out. “Was she smooched by a Dementor in the end?” 

“Yup. All her research was swiped and burned. Anyone and everyone she knew was obliviated. Now enough talk about old work, let’s relax.” Harry spoke before opening the door and allowed Ron to walk in first. 

The room was bigger than Gred and Forge’s flat, Ron was sure of it. It had silvery blue walls and a huge open window in the front, showing off the screaming fans and showed the entire field which held the perfect view. He couldn’t help his eyes from darting across the fancy black leather seats and the buckets of ice holding expensive bottles of wine, flasks of firewhiskey and glass pitchers giggle water and suddenly Ron wanted to cry and simultaneously brag to Malfoy. Sure, he hadn’t seen the blonde in a year or so but it’d be nice. The red-head didn’t realise he was drifting toward the giant window until someone spoke up, snapping him out of his thoughts. 

“Ah! Mr. Potter! Mr. Weadley, I’m so glad you could make it!” A wizard dressed in a suit came scurrying over, his chapeign glass almost overflowing with foam.

“It’s Weasley, actually.” Harry didn't hesitate to speak up. “But of course! I was thrilled when Ron decided to come with me! I couldn’t have caught that witch without him. Anyway, where will we be seated?” Harry was using his Auror Voice™ while Ron stood there, trying to recall how on earth he helped his best friend with a case he wasn’t even on.

“I did wh-?” Ron was interrupted.

“Ah. My apologies. Of course, of course.” The man in the suit adjusted his tie before gesturing to the window in the front with his glass.. “Front row, just as you requested.” He took a sip from his glass before walking off to the seat he came from, talking to the witch next to him. 

Harry thanked the man before grabbing Ron’s wrist and bringing him over to their seats. He sat Ron at the seat right in the middle of the big opening. Harry could actually see his friends blue eyes gloss over with tears, causing Harry to chuckle into his hand.  It was so worth fighting that witch and staying in St. Mungos for a week with a concussion, broken hand and a stupid spell that nearly killed him.

“Bloody fucking hell, Harry. What did you do to get these seats?” Ron’s voice did little to hide his excitement. Harry released a chuckle over his friend's excitement, but the sound got louder when Ron literally threw his jacket haphazardly onto the seat only for it to fall to the tiled floor.

“I already told you. Don’t worry about it.” Harry took his seat as he grabbed a bottle of wine from the ice bucket on the coffee table at their feet. He examined the label before nodding his head and popping open the cork.

“Wish I had a camera. Ginny would’ve loved this.” Ron walked past the table to the window, resting his hands on the railing and leaning over, looking across the field.

“Ron, she’s a professional coach-” Harry rolled his eyes, testing the wine with a small sip. He set the dark, tall bottle down on the table with a clank.

“Fred and George then.” Ron turned back to his friend and walked over, plopping himself down in his seat with confidence. Harry snorted, almost dropped his drink all over himself. This was therapeutic; he got to spend time with his best friend without the ever looming death threat of Nose-less Snakey Man breathing down his neck. 

“Yes, I’m sure their jealous tears could flood the shop.” Harry’s voice was filled with sarcasm and it had Ron laughing too. Harry checked his watch while the giggling red-head grabbed an empty glass at the table in front of them and poured himself a shot of firewhiskey. “It’s about 5:53. Game should be starting at 6 something.” He turned to Ron, casting him a smile while he brought his glass to his lips. “Wanna talk about your newest boyfriend or should I ask him for the details myself?”

Ron almost spat out his drink, his hand coming up quickly to catch the dribbles falling off his lips. Blood rushed to his cheeks, ears and before he knew it, he was bright red. He wiped his hands on his jeans, his bottom lip drawn between his teeth.

“I’m sorry, my what? Harry, I’d be lucky if he gave me the time of day let alone be my boyfriend!” Ron ran his hands through his hair, his eyes cast downward into his drink. “I mean, have you seen me lately?” He gestured to himself. “I’m a bloody mess. He could do better anyway.”

“You’re not a mess, Ron, anything but. In fact, you’re probably more put together than I am. Ginny would beg to differ, but I’m sure it’s true.” Harry shook his head in disapproval before taking another sip from his glass. “Besides, you’re a good guy. You did get Mione to fall for you and you are kinda well known, aren't you? I say you got a better chance than most.” Once the niorette male finished, he turned to look at his friend who nodded his head in silent agreement before deciding to change the topic.

“How is Gin, by the way?” 

Harry answered with a long explanation that she was good, but one of her chaser’s kept giving her trouble and didn’t believe Ginny was good for the team. The Harpies would be starting their first game soon and Ron made a note to buy a ticket. The questions came around to his brothers, of course, so Ron 

“Hey! Good for them!” Harry refilled his drink once it was finished and put the glass back in the ice bucket. “And good for you.” Harry checked his watch again when it beeped out, indicating the change in hour. “Game time!” 

The room went silent as the minister walked over to the window, doing his usual speech, but no one was really listening. Ron's legs were bouncing with excitement while his eyes looked across the white, green and orange fans waving flags. Ron should’ve known it would've been the Kenmare Kestrels duking it out against the Chudleys Cannons.

The crowds were going absolutely ballistic over the Kestrels and the screaming only seemed to get louder once the Cannon’s made their appearance. He watched the players zoom past the window, felt the air rush past him and before he could control himself, Ron was back at the railing, practically leaning over. His eyes bounced around the orange and black colored players for the new seeker.

“Harry!” Ron gestured pathetically behind him. “Harry! Come here! Look-” Ron pointed across the field to the seeker who was taking circles in the middle, taking in the crowd. He couldn’t help but stare at your confident smirk as you pulled the goggles over your eyes, casting the crowd a wink. The red-head basically melted.

“Godric, your smitten, aren’t you?” Harry was leaning against the railing next to his friend, his glass still in hand. A smirk came across his lips when his friend turned red again.

“Shut it.”

“You a Cannon fan, Mr.Wealsey?” 

The two ex-aurors turned to see the man who approached them earlier coming to Ron’s free side. The man held a cocky grin and a new drink in his hand, most likely giggle water. The red-head turned back to the game once the whistle sounded.

“Yeah. Have been for years.” Ron didn’t take his eyes off the field.

“Huh, even with their sour reputation? I’m more of a Bats fan, myself. Wouldn’t count this game in favor of the Chudley’s though, new seeker and all.” The man scoffed before sipping his drink. “Good seekers are hard to find. Hogwarts was lucky to have you though, Mr. Potter. Should’ve played Quidditch professionally, if you ask me.”

The two males shared a look with each other and came to the conclusion it’d be better to not fight the man on his clearly biased opinion and clear ass kissing. The pair gazed on, ignoring the crowd forming behind them the longer the game went on. Ron almost shoved his friend over when the announcer yelled you spotted the snitch. Ron blinked and you were standing on your broom, balancing perfectly, leaned over, golden snitch just a few inches from your fingertips.

“He’s a risky bloke, isn’t he?” Harry spoke up, hands going to his chaotic locks. “Gdoric, he’s gonna fall!” He squealed out when your foot shifted just a little too far on the broom.

“He’s bonkers.” Sir Pompous sneered out over his fancy drink, causing Ron to audible groan. 

“Sod off, will you?” Ron was so fucking sick of this man. “Stop bein’ pissy he has more balls than you and he was born without them.” He shot the suited wizard a glare before turning back to the game.  He let out a cheer when you finally grasped the snitch, plopping yourself down on the broom. The freckled male turned to Sir Pompous and smirked. “So.. Wouldn’t put this game in their favor, huh?”

The wizard turned on his heel, grumbling what the two friends assumed to be insults as he walked shamefully to his seat. Harry and Ron clinked glasses, giggling like school girls as they took a victory shot. They sat back in their seats, discussing games and just over all basking in the win. 

“Godric, I could get used to living like this.” Ron sat back, spreading his legs and just feeling confident. Harry rolled his eyes.

“I can’t afford to do this all the time, Ron.”

“I can dream, can’t I?” Ron didn’t blink twice when the door to the ministers box opened or when two voices spoke up. He was busy relaxing.

“It’s an honor to meet you, Coach Dorkins! The Chudley’s have always been my favorite-” The same kiss ass from earlier, spewing the same pompous bullshit as earlier. Ron was gonna fake a gag, but he hesitated. Coach Dorkins? Coach of the- of his favorite team? 

“Ah, well, thank you, but I’m just here to drop off Point Breaker.” As your coach went on with his arm now wrapped around you. Ron whipped around, his jaw was dropping to the floor. “Got a favor to fill in for an old friend. Ah, there he is! Potter!”

“Nice to see you again.” Harry stood up and shook hands with the coach. Ron’s blue eyes bounced between his old friend, his favorite coach and his favorite player. What the fuck was going on? Ron shrunk into his seat when you glanced over. He was acutely aware of his messy outfit and hair and- did he brush his teeth? “Ah! I should introduce you to my good friend, Ronald Weasley-” Harry waved over to his friend, a smile on his face. Ron stood up as well, but almost fell into his chair when he saw you shaking hands with his old friend and suddenly everyone was turning to him.

“Uh-hi-” When did his voice get all high pitched and creaky again. He cleared his throat, wiping his hands on his jeans before shaking hands with the coach. “Sorry, big fan.” 

Dorkins shook his head, saying how he understood between deep chuckles. The male then turned to you, who was standing by his side. He introduced you to the red-head while you held a similar, nervous smile on your face. You held your hand out as you spoke up finally. 

“I know all about you, Mr. Weasley. Well, no not- Wait, not everything like.. Like everything everything, like um- I.. well- Ok, let me start again.” You cleared your throat, shaking the ex-aurors hand. “Hi, I’m (Y/n). I’m a fan, Mr. Weasley.”

Ron was just kinda shaking your hand, confusion filled in his brain. He was just running over your rambling and was so confused. 

“You’re a fan of me?”

“The famous auror? Of course!” You were grinning now and he found himself just staring at you. The two of you missed how Potter and Dorkins were chuckling about star struck fans and wondered somewhere else in the room.

“You played great today-” Ron almost blurted out, his voice turning prepubescent again.

“Thank you! You don’t think it was too much? Too flashy?” 

“No, no, I’d say it has the perfect amount of flash.” Ron shot you a lopsided smile. The smile allowed you to relax some, the star struck tension between the two of you almost dispersing completely as you joked back and forth. You soon found yourself sitting in Harry's abandoned seat, chatting away like you had been friends since your school years. 

“So then- then- hold on, stop laughing-Haha! No, shh! We stole my dad's car just to save him! My brothers didn’t even try to talk me out of it! The only thing my older brother said was “yeah, get the car. We’re gonna find out if it’s considered kidnapping if we’re children"! Mum really chewed us out when we got back that mornin’!” Ron finished his 7th story that night while you were enjoying a nice glass of cold water. You couldn’t get over his terrible impressions of his brothers. More than a few times his stories led to you almost choking on your drink or just letting out a loud laugh.

You told him some stories about your life at home too and only got encouraged by his snickering behind his own drink. You were so open with him, telling him stories of quidditch practice and the strange gifts you got from fans, his favorite being a bra with your face hand painted on it. 

More time passed by as you chatted, finally coming around to just playing 20 questions just day to day stuff. Now, it was your turn to ask a question and honestly, the game shouldn’t even be called 20 questions, it was more like 500 questions.

“Ok. Ok. Is it true that you had a thing for Krum?” You grinned when his cheeks turned red. “I heard from a chaser that you were here when we got on the field and our  keeper was willing to bet his life on this rumor that you had a fling with Krum.” 

“N-no, no fling! Just uh- more of a sexual awakening, if you will.” Ron snorted out, rubbing the back of his neck. His eyes turned away from yours for the first time that night, casting his gaze out across the empty field.

“Ooh! What is the great Ron Weasley’s sexual preference?” You leaned forward, your grin turning to a teasing smirk. You put a hand on his shoulder when he started stuttering over his words. “Come on! You can tell me! I don’t spill secrets.”

“Would hot quidditch players be an acceptable answer?” Ron was playing with a spare ponytail holder on his wrist now, his face turning redder.

“I’d say so.” You smiled, setting down your water glass. 

“What about you?”

“What?”

“I told you mine. It’s only fair, Point Breaker. Spill it.” It was Ron’s turn to get cocky as you blushed. 

“May or may not be hot ex-aruros, but who’s keeping track.” You were not going to admit you’d been fanboying over the red-head since his face came across the Daily Profit. While he knew a lot about your game stats and quotes, you knew about the dark wizards he fought against, how he helped Granger and Potter and decided fighting was too much.

“Oh really?”

“I said maybe. Don’t get cocky. Besides, I could mean Harry-”

“I have a feeling you don’t mean him.”

“Well, what are you going to do about it?”

“How about a date?” Ron leaned back in his chair, gauging your reaction. He mentally sighed when you didn’t appear grossed out or scared.

“Hmm, let me think. “ You pretended to count stuff on your fingers before smiling at the red-head. “Leaky Cauldron?”

“Sure! Tuesday?”

“I’m free after 6.”

“Done.”

#ron weasley x male reader #ron weasley imagine #ron weasley x trans reader #ron weasley #harry is a good friend #male reader #trans male reader #hp x male reader #hp imagine #hp x trans reader #x male reader #x trans reader #Ronny Writes #fic #hp male fic #hp fic

[tvdiaries-imagines]

Old Flame: Pt. 15

Warnings: Cursing & a lil touch of NSFW

Word Count: 3371

OLD FLAME MASTERLIST: CLICK HERE

-

While this 7 hour road trip to Arkansas is taking place, you and Hayley offered many times to take over the wheel but Klaus did not budge. He’s had his fair share of you and Hayley taking the wheel a few times in the past. He’ll never put himself through such horror again.

Other than that, Klaus has informed you of everything he’s learned from Finn so far. You’ve learned that Esther’s first born, Freya did not die from plague, but she was taken by Esther’s sister, Dahlia in exchange for Esther to be fertile. The thought made you sick to your stomach, but if it wasn’t for Esther’s sacrifice, you would have never met Klaus.

That piece of information wasn’t the last of it. Klaus mentioned that every first born in the Mikaelson family belongs to Dahlia and since Hope is still alive, you hope that Dahlia doesn't come after her too.

This family cannot catch a break.

As much as you tried to stay awake for Klaus, he insisted you get some rest and you did just that, leaning your head against the passenger side window. He reached his right arm over his head for his jacket that is sprawled over his seat and placed it over you as a makeshift blanket, careful to focus his eyes on the road at the same time.

Once you are fast asleep, Klaus couldn’t help but steal a glance at your peaceful state. Outstretching his right arm, he rests his palm over your thigh, briskly caressing it with his thumb.

“You really love Y/N, huh?” A very awake Hayley mentioned from the back seat behind him.

Klaus flickered his eyes at the rear view mirror, waiting a beat before responding. “So it seems.” He sniggered lightly.

“Have you told her?” Hayley asked. After not receiving a response from him, she already knew his answer. “I think you should. I don’t know anyone else on this planet that would put up with you the way that she does.”

“Your advice is touching.” Klaus hid his vulnerability with a sarcastic tone. Hayley sighed heavily, displeased that he was making a joke out of her serious advice.  

(Later…)

It is now daylight when you, Klaus and Hayley pull up to a house that neither you nor Hayley have ever been to. It is a white two story home with dark brown shutters. Rebekah, Elijah and who you assume is Hope are standing outside, eager for your arrival.

Klaus wastes no time approaching the home and Hayley nearly jumps out of the back seat, rushing towards her daughter. Klaus follows suit and you take your time stepping out of the passenger seat in slow motion. You’ll never understand how much this mother and father missed their child so you kept your distance to allow them this moment with their daughter.

You walked over to Elijah and Rebekah. Rebekah welcomed you with open arms, reeling you in for a tight hug. “Oh, Y/N.” Rebekah muttered, freeing you of her tight hold. “I’ve missed you.”

“I missed you too, sis.” You smiled.

“Has Nik been giving you a hard time?”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Of course.”

“How about that dreadful friend of yours, Kai.” Rebekah flashed a look of disgust. “Has Nik killed him yet?”

You sighed, perturbed of the heretic’s whereabouts. “No. I have no idea where he is. But your mother has something to do with it.”

“Esther?” She reeled back, shocked. “How did this happen?”

“It’s a long story, Rebekah. It’ll bore you.” You chuckled faintly. She flashed a nervous smile at you, seeing right through your facade.

“Y/N.” Nik interrupted, appearing beside you with Hope in his arms. You turned to face him, eyes widening at the beautiful infant before you. “This is Hope.” He added.

“Hi Hope.” Your mouth curved into a grin, raising your hand and Hope latches onto your finger, blue eyes staring into yours. You peer up at Klaus, whispering loudly. “She’s beautiful.” You glanced from Klaus to Hayley who both approve of your sweet comment.

“She is, isn’t she?” Hayley mentioned to you in a calm tone, gazing at her daughter as she steals him from Klaus’s arms. “Come here, sweetie.”

You started on helping Rebekah and the men gather wood for a bonfire right in front of the home. Klaus started informing his siblings about the whole mess of their Aunt Dahlia.

“So is there any chance of us running into your psycho Aunt Dahlia soon?” You asked.

“Fable’s over a thousand years old, sister.” Elijah responded, adding a piece of the wood to the neat pile, his sleeves folded up to his elbows. “Dahlia’s long dead.”

“Like Esther?” Hayley added, setting her daughter inside the car seat that is on the ground beside Klaus.

“No one’s going to hurt Hope because no one’s going to find her.” Klaus announced. “That’s enough wood, Rebekah. You’ll burn down the whole bloody state of Arkansas.”

“Well, we’re just missing a key ingredient.” Rebekah pointed out, tone exuberant.

“No, we’re not.” Klaus tensed up instantaneously. Your eyes narrowed, curious as to what the siblings are referring to.

“Yes we are, Nik. Back me up, Elijah.” Rebekah gestured a nagging hand at the noble Mikaelson.

“I suspect Niklaus would rather choke on the ashes.” Elijah sniggered.

“What are you all talking about?” You asked, fed up with being out of the loop.

“Well, before we light it, we write down our wishes for each other to burn for good luck.” Rebekah answered. “It was Kol’s favorite part when we were kids.”

“Neat.” You murmured.

“Further evidence as to why we should ignore it.” Klaus mentioned with distaste.

“Nik.” You nagged, bothered that he’s such a bully to his youngest brother.

“Hope’s first bonfire season. I like it. We’re doing it.” Hayley remarked, turning on her heel as she waltzed inside the house. Klaus let out an exasperated sigh before picking up Hope’s carrier and taking her inside with Elijah following behind him.

“Now Y/N,” Rebekah started once her brothers were no longer earshot, “tell me all about your time with my brother.”

You snorted, hands at hips. “Where do I begin?”

(Meanwhile…)

A moment after, Hayley writes down her wish. She folds the piece of paper and stuffs it inside her front pocket. Then, she grabs a notepad and goes after Klaus who is sitting at the dining table, playing with his daughter that he’s missed so much.

“Here.” Hayley said, placing the notepad on the table directly in front of him.

Klaus stole a glance at the dreaded notepad before bringing his focus back to Hope. “I’m holding a small child, Hayley. The silly wish game will have to wait.”

“You write. I’ll hold.” She responded.

“You do realize it is not I who is to be the husband you can boss around.”

“Oh, right.” She shook her head slowly, as if coming to a realization. “Y/N!” She called, briefly looking over her shoulder.

He narrowed his eyes before handing his daughter to her mother. “Fine.”

Being confident as ever after talking Klaus into writing his wish, she was all smiles. “I wish you would tell Elijah you’re marrying your werewolf suitor,” Klaus mentioned as he’s writing, causing Hayley to come to a halt and frown, “at which point I would pour him a scotch and congratulate him on the bullet he dodged.”

Klaus rips the small sheet of paper off and hands it to Hayley with a smug. She snatched it from him, crumpled it in her hand and marched away with her daughter in her arm, evidently vexed.

You walked past Hayley before finding Klaus in the dining room. “Hey Nik. Did you write down your wish?” You asked. He gestured for you to sit on his lap and you did so by sitting on his left leg, snaking your right arm around his neck.

“Unfortunately.” He replied with raised brows. “Did you?”

“Of course I did.” You said. Klaus stared at you silently with a specified expression that you can easily determine. “And no, I’m not telling you my wish.” You are certain that if you tell him that you wish for Kai’s safe return, his elated mood would quickly plummet and that’s the last thing anyone wants right now. Especially you, since you’ve had your fair share of arguments with him already.

“Alright, love.” He allowed this defeat. He suddenly pats on your behind as a gesture to stand. “Come now. Let’s get this bloody bonfire started.” His tone was far from excited.

After bringing everyone to the front, Rebekah rushes inside the house as Klaus starts throwing lit matches to the wood one by one, in no rush for this bonfire. Minute by minute, the flame grows and Rebekah finally makes her return with a fairly aged Polaroid in her hand. “Hey, look what I found!” She mentioned with excitement, making her way to Hayley, Hope and Elijah who are standing at a fair distance from the flame. “I wonder if it’ll work.”

As everyone looks to Rebekah, Klaus is the least excited about his sister’s discovery. “Oh, bloody hell.” He puts his hands to his hips and looks away from her. You couldn’t help but giggle because you know how much Klaus dreads taking photos.

“Come on, let’s try. Hey Nik, do you think you can cram us into a selfie?” Rebekah walked over to the two you with everyone else following behind her. You thought it was adorable hearing the excitement in her voice.

“Niklaus is the virtuoso of cramming his siblings into confined spaces.” Elijah said snidely.

“Elijah’s got a point.” You chimed, refraining yourself from laughing at his snarky comment.

“I’m so glad I traveled hundreds of miles to visit my mentally ill brother only to have him insult me to my face.” Klaus looks down at the Polaroid camera, prepping it as everyone squeezes together.

“Come on, just take the picture.” Rebekah spat.

Finally, Klaus straightened his arm and raised the camera so that it’s at the right angle. Then, he gives it a few seconds before he snaps a photo. Everyone waited a beat for the photo to unveil itself full of you, your beloved, his deranged siblings that you adore, the mother of his child and their daughter. To put it simply. It’s a photo full of supernatural creatures. The majority mean the world to you. What an interesting combination.

To everyone’s misfortune, the photo needed to be burned for Hope’s safety. Klaus didn’t want to risk this photo ending up in the wrong hands. And as much as it kills everyone, it had to be done. You managed to remember to throw your wish in the bonfire as well. Rebekah, on the other hand, had everyone else’s attention. She was fed up and decided that she wants to do whatever it takes to take Esther down.

As everyone retreats inside, you remain put, staring at where that little piece of paper once was. You reach into your front pocket and dial Kai’s cell phone again, even though it’s a long shot. Frustrated with this loss, you continue calling his phone over and over again until you couldn’t handle hearing his obnoxious voicemail. “God dammit.” You whispered in frustration, staring up at the sky, shaking your head. “Where the hell are you, Kai?”

The flame is now dying down, so you made your way inside, following the Mikaelson’s voices. It seems they are forming a plan to defeat Esther.

After going over the very specific plan with them with a wine glass of blood in your hand, you took a much needed shower in an en-suite bathroom of your choice, then threw a robe on while your clothes are in the washer.

Stepping out of the laundry room, you go back inside the en-suite bathroom and comb your wet hair, freeing it of any knots. The sound of familiar footsteps approach, followed by the creaking of the door opening. “Showering?” You asked Klaus.

“It seems you did without me.” He smirked, freeing himself of his dark long sleeve to reveal his flawless physique. You made sure to steal a glance at him as you continued to brush through your strands.

“That’s too bad.” You answered lightheartedly.

“Indeed it is.” He added, eyeing you hungrily. He caught you off guard when he whooshed towards you and spun you to face him. You gasped at the gesture, hairbrush falling to the ground, awaiting his next move.

You peered up at the lust in his eyes, nipping at your bottom lip. In one brisk move, you are placed over the counter behind you and he leans down, pressing his plump lips onto yours, tongue swirling inside of your needy mouth.

You are his and he is yours. The thought alone made your entire being burst with elation. Your heart was beating so wildly as you wrapped your legs around him to bring him closer to you, feeling him harden by the second.

His hands began making its way to your cheeks all the way down to the knot of your robe, lips never detaching from yours.

Before you knew it, your robe was untied and you were completely naked on the bathroom counter. You were so caught up in this ravenous moment that you hadn’t realized you were naked until he stroked your breasts. The sinful gesture alone made you pool with desire down below.

Klaus separated his lips from yours and silently went on his knees, throwing your legs over his shoulders. He licked his upper lip, gazing up at you. “Wet, are we?” Klaus mentioned before starting on his meal.

You.

(Later…)

After a much deserved nap and a cup of coffee, the sun will soon disappear and the moon will make its appearance. You, Rebekah and Klaus hit the road back to New Orleans. Surprisingly, Klaus didn’t drive this time since he’s hardly had any rest, so he had Rebekah take over.

“You remember the plan, love?” Klaus asked you from the back seat.

“Yes I do.” You assured him casually, scrolling through your phone to cure your boredom. You’ve only heard the plan a million times before leaving Arkansas.

“Do you know what to do, Rebekah?” He asked his sister.

“Yes. But if it doesn’t go to plan, will you handle my body with care please?” She pouted. “I may miss the old model.”

“Of course we will.” You chimed in, peering at Rebekah for an ephemeral time before bringing your focus back to your phone.

“If everything goes south, i’ll be there to pull you out.” The hybrid stated. “We just have to take Esther down before she body-jumps. I don’t want all of this to have been for nothing.”

“You and I on the same team, Nik. It must be Christmas.” Rebekah added. Klaus responded with a grin before getting some shut eye during this prolonged car ride.

(Later…)

As soon as you touched down in New Orleans to the Mikaelson compound, you stretched your limbs and wandered inside. Cami, Marcel and Davina were gathered together in the courtyard, prepping for a spell. You shot them a glance before making a beeline for the grand kitchen because you were absolutely famished. Klaus had a quick word with Kol before Kol and Rebekah headed over to their mother’s current living quarters. It was an urgent step for the plan and everyone was in on it besides Esther and Finn.

Many minutes later, Klaus received a text from Rebekah and the two of you drove off into the night to the Lafayette cemetery, careful not to make too much noise before approaching them.

It wasn’t difficult to locate where Esther, Kol and Rebekah were in this large cemetery. All you had to do was follow the only illuminated area as well as use your vamp hearing. “Mother, think this through. You gave birth to this body. You can’t destroy it.” You heard Rebekah plead.

“I am only destroying its flesh. Your beautiful soul will live on in the body of another. I have chosen well for you. A beautiful girl. Strong.” Esther attempted to justify her actions, tone confident. You hid behind one of the nearest tombs.

“Mother!” Klaus shouted, standing tall above another tomb. “Stop the spell.” He dashed to the ground, taking long strides towards the trio. “You and your traitorous son.”

“Nik, I didn’t know anything about it. I swear.” Kol expressed.

“Oh good. I’m glad you two boys are friends again.” Esther said, pleased. “I did wonder what you’d been up to in your time away. Now I know.”

“Stop the blasted spell.” Klaus demanded.

“I’m afraid that’s impossible.”

“Anything is possible. Take me instead.” Your brows furrowed at Klaus’s offer. You don’t recall him mentioning that. Though instead of dwelling on it, you stayed put until you were needed. You didn’t want to risk screwing up the plan. You hoped that he was just saying it to stall Esther.

“Nik, no!” Rebekah grasped his forearm.

“If only you’d taken my offer when it was still mine to give.” Esther blurted. “Unfortunately, you left me no choice but to make a deal with Mikael.”

“Mikael?” You mouthed to yourself, face contorting as you’re taken aback from the news. You completely forgot about him being alive in general, but the fact that the parents are teaming together doesn’t sound too great.

“When Finn and Kol went missing, I needed a new ally. All he wanted was the right to kill you.” Esther expressed. “Kol, I would ask you to deliver the stake to your father, but it seems your loyalties have been compromised.”

You tighten your grip around the white oak stake in your hand and your nostrils flared as you’re ready to pounce on Esther. In a flash you saw Klaus step towards your direction as if he was just casually pacing from exasperation. You were still undetected by Esther, so Klaus quickly winked at you before turning on his heel and shifting his expression back to an aggravated one. So far it’s selling.

“Stop the spell, Esther!” Klaus roared.

“It’s okay, Nik. I can do this.” Rebekah implied.

“So you’re feeling murderous again.” The mother spat, displeased. “You should know, I’ve already chosen another body.”

“Now!” Kol hollered and that was your cue.

Finally.

You whooshed towards Esther and stabbed her in the neck with the white oak stake. She looked at you with wide eyes as the blood poured down the new wound. You sighed in satisfaction, taking in the win. All went according to plan.

The sound of the witch bowl exploding into pieces near Kol at a distance and Klaus calling his sister’s name snapped you out of your victory. Looking over your shoulder, you find a passed out original sister in the arms of her older brother.

“Uh, did it work?” You flickered your eyes from Klaus to Kol for a response.

“I don’t know.” Klaus replied. “Kol, would you? I need to bring mother inside.” He gestured for Kol to hang onto Rebekah and he obliged. Klaus effortlessly threw his mother over his shoulder and escorted her body inside one of the sizable tombs. You learned from Kol that it’s spelled so that she cannot escape.

Klaus must’ve forgotten that Kol isn’t as strong as he is in his original body because he was slightly struggling to keep Rebekah on her feet. You came to his aid and threw her other arm over your shoulder, placing the white oak stake in your back pocket.

“Sister.” Kol called to you in a low tone, as if not wanting to be heard from Klaus. You hummed, notifying him that you’re all ears. “I’ve gotten mother to tell me your friend’s current placement.”

“You did?” Your head snapped to Kol, eyes widened, speaking in a loud whisper. “Is he alive?”

“Yes.” You exhaled in relief from his response. “But I’ll tell you more once we’re at the compound.”

“Thank you.” You mouthed to Kol who glimpsed at you, then to the ground. After days and nights of waiting, you’re finally going to get your answer.

-

A/N: So sorry to leave you guys on that cliffhanger! But it had to be done :) Thank you all for sticking with me and I’ll see you lovelies in the next chapter!

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