#the cab’s ‘there’s a million words I could say but none of them would do’

[theamazingannie]

Favorite specific music genre: songs where people are trying to express their love for their SO and singing about how no words exist to properly tell them how they feel

#the Maine’s ‘there are only 26 letters I can use just to tell you I won’t let go’ #faber Drive’s ‘like the perfect one word no one’s heard yet’ #the cab’s ‘there’s a million words I could say but none of them would do’ #these are just three bands from the pop rock genre so it doesn’t include everything obviously #but these are just the three I know best #idk I think it makes it even better cuz it’s not a typical genre for love songs #but you can Just feel the love and adoration in these songs #if anyone has any other recs please let me know

[an-anonimous-writer]

THE LUCKY ONE

Full credits to the GIF creator

Summary: fame was never easy and Remus warned you, after six years you want to start again.

Remus Lupin x famous!f Reader.

Warnings: none, if you think there is one, please let me know.

Words: 1228

A/N: This fic is heavily inspired by The Lucky One from Taylor Swift :)) and maybe there will be a part 2.

EDIT: part 2 is up now :)

marauders era masterlist

The stage was huge and ready for you to step on it. Your school years are long forgotten and everyone you’ve ever cared for too, even Remus. It was a shame how it all ended, all because of the difference between your ambitions, you’ve always wanted to be famous, some way, somehow.

He told you to quit your dreams, to think of something more realistic, like a healer or maybe a professor at Hogwarts. You thought about it through your last year, pursuing a real career and becoming a healer. You were great at healing his wounds, but you were so unhappy thinking about it being your future.

You were a great singer too, that was your passion, being under the lights and singing your heart to everyone that wanted to hear you. You created a band, The Marauders, you as the lead singer, James as the second guitar, Remus as the bassist and Sirius as the drummer. And you understood there, you felt great when people came to your shows and cheered, but as their last years at Hogwarts loomed they started thinking about profession that you knew, deep down, they didn’t like.

Your relationship with Remus ended with huge fights every night because of who you wanted to be. One night you packed your things and fled to London, pursuing your dreams and leaving all behind…

Now you were there, in front of millions of judges, or fans, your first concert of the year. You became everything you wanted to be, you changed your name, moved to a new town and since then your name was written in every magazine. You were famous. You were so lucky, or that’s what everyone told you. Your songs were streaming everywhere at every second in every part of the world, most of those were copies of the ones you wrote with him in school. It reminded you of where you came from.

But fame, oh fame is cold and unforgiving. You hated your new self, how you treated everyone and you hated how your bed sheets covered a new person each night, none of them knowing your name or if they did, they didn't matter. Every secret you told to your ‘‘friends’’ ended up splash on the news and you hated it, you hated this life. You felt oh so unlucky, so used, as if you were a toy. So you decided that tonight’s show was the last one. And so it was.

As the last notes were streaming, you started running, leaving the cheering behind and everyone who told you to stay. You ran to your car, your manager chasing you and punching the trunk, but you sped out of it, went home and started packing everything, your money, your clothes, your awards, but most importantly your dignity. Then you thought, he was right.

You were back, England, your home. You knew where to go. You asked for a cab and went to the countryside, you hoped the same house you once fled would still be there.

You knocked at the door, waiting impatiently and picking your last traces of black nail polish, and then it opened. Remus behind it, pure shock on his face. He scanned you, head to feet, and so did you. You noticed how scars grew bigger and how he grew a bit taller. You threw yourself into his embrace and cried, how much have you missed him.

‘‘W-what are you doing here?’’ he said. His voice was way deeper than you remembered and comforting. You wanted to be between his arms forever.

‘‘I- I just… I guess…’’ you tried saying between sobs, but you couldn’t, the only thought in your head was the warmth you were feeling.

‘‘Okay, calm down, breathe in and out’’ He held your shoulders so you could look at him, and led you inside.

He sat you down on a green couch, it was even more comfortable than yours, he went to the kitchen and prepared tea. You started to calm down after all the commotion and the sound of water boiling and the smell of species soothed you. It was strange being there, you were used to big mansions, full of people and parties, it was as if the life you’ve lived before didn’t exist.

‘‘Here, take it’’ He handed you your favourite tea. You took it and maintained it with your two hands, it was the right moment

‘‘You were right’’ you blurted out, in a whisper.

‘‘What?’’ he questioned, sitting next to you.

‘‘You were right’’ you repeated, tears welling in your eyes. You broke down bawling. He put his hand on your back, moving it up and down in a soothing way.

You felt so good and right with him, being unknown for everyone else but him. There, you were lucky, and no one had to tell you. Until the creak of the stairs, it awoke you. Remus stood up quickly, leaving your back cold.

‘‘Rem, I heard the knock are you r-’’ A woman's voice started, until she saw you. ‘‘Is that-’’ she couldn’t finish the sentence because she started feeling starstruck.

‘‘Anne, don’t, please. She is not having a great day, it seems, but she is going. Now’’ Remus spared you a look, his gaze hardened. You weren’t welcome no more.

‘‘Maybe, I-, yes, I should get going, there are more people I have to greet’’. You put your cup of tea on the wooden table and bid goodbye to the woman, Anne you thought was her name.

Remus accompanied you to the door. You wanted to cry.

‘‘I-, sorry, it was Anne, my fiancée…’’ Your heart broke, but you could understand life keeps going without you. ‘‘I don’t really know what to say, it’s a surprise seeing you here, after’’ he paused to think ‘‘seven years, and it killed me when I read the magazines. Your life page and mine were completely different, a different guy each night, I wanted to be those guys.’’

He sighed and your lip started to quiver, you also hoped for all of them to be Remus and they weren’t. You have always wanted Remus.

‘‘Until I met Anne, she is… She isn’t you’’ You felt as if someone stabbed you multiple times, she didn’t want you anymore ‘‘She works as a healer and she is the kindest person you would ever meet, she is wonderful and she accepts me, and… I had waited for you, the first years of my relationship with her’’.

‘‘But we can try, if you have waited all these-’’ you were cut by him.

‘‘Have you understand anything? Shit! I have a fiancée! I can’t just leave her because you feel overwhelmed with everything you wanted at first! I warned you, but your heart impered the fame, I was always a second choice after fame and you know that!’’ he shouted angrily.

You flinched at his tone, when he realised he stopped screaming, he was sad and disappointed, with you, with him, with how you two ended. He wanted to be with you, but Anne was in his life now.

‘‘I should get going Remus, and I was- I’ll go to James’ house, he is still with Lily, isn’t it?’’ you asked, trying to lighten the mood. He only nodded and closed the door behind him.

A few hours passed, you had cried, but you were waiting for the taxi now, Remus came and stood by your side, later, you knew he felt guilty and didn’t want you to feel alone. It was your time to go when the taxi arrived. But before you entered the cab, he caught your hand and pulled you in for the last kiss you could never share.

#remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x you #remus lupin #famous reader #james potter #peter pettigrew #regulus black #sirius black #the marauders #remus angst #remus fluff #taylor swift #reader being in a band #reader relates to the lucky one #remus lupin angst #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin i adore you #i want to be reader

[anonymousfiction211]

Meeting Tom Hiddleston

Summary: Meeting Tom Hiddleston for the first time! (A girl can dream...)

Word Count: 3502 words

Warnings: Smut

The line moved slowly. You were already waiting for a very long time, but it would definitely be worth it. Luckily, you were not alone. Your best friends Eline and John were with you, who happened to be in a relationship with each other. This was your fist time at comic con, since none of your other friends ever wanted to go. And you were extremely nervous to see your favourite actor in real life. Finally, the line moved a few paces. The more the line moved the more nervous you got. You were about to be eye to eye with him. With possibly the most charming and handsome men on the planet.

You were wondering if he would be in a good mood, or would pretend to be in a good mood. He had been giving out autographs for a few hours. Since your friends wanted to go to another panel first, you barely made it in time to stand in line. You had thought long and hard about what you wanted him to sign. Eventually you decided on a book about Loki, which you have read quite a few times. It was not about the Loki that he played, the Marvel version, but the one from the Norse mythology. Your thoughts were disturbed when Eline let out a little shriek. ‘I can’t believe we’re finally going to meet him!’ she said excited. The two of you had planned this a few years back, when you both discovered that you were massive Loki fans. The deal was, if Tom Hiddleston ever came to your country, the two of you would go.

‘Oh my god, I’m so nervous. I don’t know what to say’ you replied. From the moment you had tickets to this event you were thinking about what to tell him. Everything you came up with sounded like a cliché, and he sure would be tired to hear the same thing for the hundredth time today. After some sleepless nights and driving yourself crazy, you thought you would come up with it while waiting in line. Well, you couldn’t be more wrong. Now that you were standing in line, you had forgotten every series and every movie you had ever seen him in. You knew he was your favourite actor, but why that exactly was you couldn’t explain if your life depended on it.

The line moved along again and you were now next in line. The two girls before you were giggling loudly and you heard Tom chuckling. You started to feel overwhelmed and thought about backing out. ‘(Y/N), relax. It will be fine’ John encouraged you. ‘I don’t do well with first impressions and if I screw this up I will never be able to sleep’ you argued. Your friend just laughed at you. The three of you had have this argument about a million times when you discovered that you would meet Tom. The girls before you left and now you stood eye to eye to Tom Hiddleston. He made eye contact with you and your mind just lost it. You froze in your spot. John laid a hand on your shoulder and whispered to you ‘This is the part where we walk towards him’. From his tone you heard that he was quite amused by your state and you felt like you had embarrassed yourself already.

The three of you walked towards the table. ‘Hello there’ Tom greeted you. Your friends immediately greeted him back and started to introduce themselves. ‘.. and this is (Y/N)’ you heard Eline say. ‘Nice to meet you (Y/N)’ Tom said to you. God that voice was going to be the death of you. ‘What can I do for you today’ he continued. Your two friends gave him each a Loki funkopop to sign and after that you handed him the book. He eyed the book and looked at you. ‘Have you read it?’ he asked you. When he saw your questioning face he just laughed to himself ‘Sorry, of course you have. Stupid question’. Out of nervousness you laughed too ‘No, stupid questions don’t exist right?’ ‘I have read the book, one of my favourites actually’ you explained. ‘From all the books and stories, I’ve read about Loki, I quite agree’ he told you. ‘So, who do you like better MCU Loki or Norse Mythology Loki?’ he asked you. ‘Not to be insulting, but Norse Mythology Loki, actually’ you said, hoping he didn’t notice the blush on your cheeks. His face looked amused and you saw a twinkle in his eyes that confirmed your suspicion, that Tom and your all-time favourite trickster shared some qualities. ‘And why is that?’ he asked in his low voice while leaning a bit more forward.

‘Well, the Loki from Norse Mythology wouldn’t be stupid enough to try and kill Thanos with a butter knife’ you replied. You were shocked to hear yourself say that. The words had left your mouth before you even registered what was happening. Like you said, you really weren’t good in first impressions. You heard your friends laugh beside you. You were relieved when you heard Tom laugh also. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to insult you’ you quickly added. ‘You didn’t, darling’ he said. Great, if the blush on your cheeks wasn’t obvious, it sure would be now. ‘But remember, Loki does everything for a reason’ he said and gave you a wink. ‘I hope he does, I’m really excited for the series’ you said as steady as you could. Hoping you didn’t show how much that one wink effected you. ‘Glad to hear you say that. Do you want me to sign the cover or the inside?’ he asked you. A bit disappointed that after he signed it and you left this meeting, you would never see or speak to him again. ‘Inside, please’ you replied. Tom wrote something inside, but cut of the view with his arm. He closed the book and handed it back to you. ‘Best not to read it with your boyfriend standing next to you’ he said while handing it back to you.

Eline immediately grabbed John and pulled him closer. ‘Actually, John is my boyfriend. (Y/N) is single’ she said. The meaning behind her words couldn’t have been more obvious. If you could, you would have fainted right there and then, just to escape this embarrassment. You shot her an I’m-going-to-kill-you-for-this-look, but her look said that you would have done the same in her situation. And who were you kidding, you would have. ‘Really?’  Tom asked. The tone of his voice made your knees weak. ‘’Yeah, still wating for prince charming on his white horse, I guess’ you chuckled, not knowing how to respond to this. ‘Not for a skilled sorcerer with a God complex? Tom replied teasingly. ‘If Loki really existed I would take that chance’ you replied in all honesty. At this point the security guard behind Tom cleared his throat. ‘Mr. Hiddleston, we need to get going’ he said. Tom nodded at the security guard before turning his attention back to you. ‘Unfortunately, that is my que to get going. But I would love to explain to you why Loki tries to stab people with butter knifes. If you like?’ he said to you. You nodded quickly, more time with Tom was not something you would turn down. ‘Yes’ you said a bit too enthusiastic. Tom just laughed a little at your energetic reaction. He grabbed a piece of paper and wrote down the address and room number of his hotel ‘Here is the place I’m staying. Let’s say around 10pm if that’s not too late? I think it’s going to be a long day today. We can have a drink and talk more’ he said to you. ‘Your friends are more then welcome to join if they want’ he quickly added. You smiled at him ‘Sure, see you tonight’ you said. With that the three of you left and Tom got up to go to his next event.

‘Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god’ your friend started to chant once the three of you were in the main hall. ‘I can’t believe that he asked you out!’ she exclaimed. You furrowed your brows ‘Look, I can’t believe either that he wants to spend more time with me. But it isn’t a date. I’m not going alone, you two will be there as well’ you answered. Your friend shot each other a look before the shifted their focus back on you. ‘You’re going alone’ the said simultaneously. ‘What? How about you two come with me for moral support like good friends are supposed to do?’ you asked them. ‘We are making you go alone so you can have some time with your all-favourite actor. Who knows what will happen when you two are alone’ John said to you. ‘That is what good friends are supposed to do’ Eline added with a smile. And you knew it didn’t matter how much you argued, you were going and you were going alone. 

The day passed and you had a blast with your friends. The nerves within you were building up about tonight tough. At the end of the day, you and Eline went shopping for an outfit for tonight. She insisted that you wore a dress, but you had successfully declined that. Dresses weren’t really much your thing and you didn’t want Tom to think that you were expecting or trying something. After all, it was just a talk about Loki, a drink and he even had invited your friends. Eventually, you found a pair of black jeans and a dark green t-shirt. It was a bit Loki styled, but your friend assured you that Tom would appreciate that.

In the evening => You got out of the cab and were more nervous when you saw the luxury of the hotel. Maybe you were a bit underdressed you thought. After a few deep breaths you mastered the courage to walk into the hotel. The man behind the desk eyed you and asked if he could do anything to help you. You knew that he was really asking what the hell you were doing here. You told him that you came to visit Tom in room 325. After a quick phone call, he smiled politely at you, explained how to get there, and told you to have a nice evening. You got into the elevator and pressed the button for the third floor. You took a few more deep breaths. Maybe you should have brought something you started to contemplate. Why hadn’t you thought about that before? When the elevator reached the floor, your breath hitched when Tom was standing suddenly in front of you. Amused by your reaction he greeted you politely. To your shock he even hugged you once you were out of the elevator. ‘Are you alone?’ he asked you while walking towards his hotel room. ‘Yeah, my friends rather wanted a quiet night alone’ you lied to him. I mean, you couldn’t possibly tell him why you were here alone. ‘That just means we have the chance to get each other better’ Tom replied.

Tom’s hotel room was pretty big. It was still a simple hotel room but he had a large sitting area with comfy couch and a tv. He told you to make yourself at home, so you sat down on the couch. ‘Sorry, I didn’t think to bring something’ you said to him. He just told you that you didn’t had to bring something. He asked you what you wanted to drink. Luckily for you he had wine, maybe alcohol would calm your nerves a bit. He poured two classes of red wine and sat next to you on the couch. You noticed that he sat fairly close to you. Something you both love and hated at the moment. ‘I like the colours you’re wearing, very Loki-like’ he said to you. ‘Thanks’ you blushed, not knowing how to take this compliment. Luckily, Tom changed the subject about Loki and the Marvel Universe. After some time, your nerves calmed down and you actually had a blast. It was fun to talk to Tom about Loki, hobby’s, and he even took an interest is your life. When Tom handed you a glass with only a little wine in it he said ‘Sorry, I’m afraid that the second bottle is already gone’. You were shocked ‘The SECOND?’  you asked him. He just laughed at you ‘Time flies when you’re having fun I guess’. That is when you looked at the clock. It was past 1 o’clock at night. ‘Oh shoot, it’s already late. Sorry. I should go’ you stammered a bit. ‘No apologies, I’ve had a great time. And do you really think I’m letting a woman go home alone at this time at night?’ he said while raising his eyebrow.

‘Assuming from your tone, I guess not?’ you replied. ‘You’re staying here. You can have the bed and I’ll sleep on the couch if you want to. But I’m not letting you travel alone at this time’ he said. You saw him think over his words ‘I mean, if you really want I will take you home. I don’t want you to feel forced to stay here’ he added. You already heard your friends voice in your head telling you what an idiot you were if you actually went home right now. And to be honest, you didn’t want to go home. Things with Tom felt naturally. ‘If you don’t mine I’d like to stay for the night’ you said and immediately saw Tom’s face lit up. ‘But either we sleep both in the bed or I’ll sleep on the couch. I’m not having you sleep on the couch in your own room’ you added. It was a bold move, but the alcohol made you forget all your nerves. Tom just gave you a wide grin ‘Bed it is’ he said to you. The two of you talked and laughed more and eventually finished the wine. Tom had put his arm on the armrest around you and you sat to face him. The two of you sat really close to each other. When you put down the glass you looked in his eyes. He met your gaze and there was a long silence. His hand cupped your cheek and he leaned in ‘Can I?’ he asked while maintaining eye contact. ‘Yes’ you replied to give him your consent. You felt his lips on your, it was soft and he kissed you slowly.

When you kissed him back the kissing got more heated. Tom grabbed your waist to pull you closer and you laid your hands around his neck. After a make out session that made you feel like you were a teenager again, he broke the kiss. ‘Should we go to the bedroom?’ he asked you while catching his breath. You nodded and he laughed at you. He got up and stretched out his hand for you to take. You took his hand and he led you to his bedroom. When you entered he closed the door behind you. He immediately starting to kiss you again while walking you back to the giant bed. While you were walking you started to undo the many buttons of his white shirt. Once they were all unbuttoned, your hands roamed his chest and his abbs. You felt Tom slightly moan at your touch. He pulled the shirt of himself and you felt the back of your legs against the bed. Tom laid you down gently and grabbed the hem of your shirt. You moved your arms up so he could take it off you. For a moment he froze and eyed the sight of you laying underneath him on the bed in your bra. You chuckled at his reaction and pulled him closer for a kiss.

You undid his belt and opened his pants. He slides his pants down and was now laying on top of you in nothing but his underwear. You clearly felt his erection against your core, making you more wet. Tom unhooked your bra and started to kiss down your neck. When he reaches your breasts, he took his time. He started to kiss them, bite them, and roll his tongue around your nipples. Your nipples hardened and you moaned shamelessly from his actions. Once he was satisfied he trailed his kissing downwards. He reached the top of your pants. He looked up to make eye contact with you, while he undid the button of your pants. He hooked his fingers from the top and pulled your pants and underwear down simultaneously. ‘I wanted to do this the first moment I saw you’ he said to you. His tongue was circling your clit, but his eyes never left your gaze. The sight of Tom between your thighs looking at you was adding to the intensity of the pleasure he was giving you. When you were starting to pant from his tongue you saw him smile.

He trailed his kissing back upward and reached your mouth. You could taste yourself on him, which was adding to your lust. You took charge and moved so Tom was on his back. You slowly trailed his underwear down and he shuddered in anticipation. He quickly pulled open his nightstand and grabbed a condom. He handed it to you. You grabbed his hardened cock and he moaned immediately when you touched it. Slowly you started to move your wrist up and down and Tom was bucking his hips to create more friction. After some time, Tom was all worked up ‘Please (Y/N), ride me’ he begged you. You opened the condom package with your teeth and slowly put the condom around his cock. You startled his legs, grabbed his cock, and slowly let him enter you. You started out the same slow pace when you teased him with your hand. Tom grabbed your hips to increase the pace. You leaned downwards to kiss his neck and discovered his sweet spot. When you kissed the crook of his neck he almost yelled. ‘Oh god (Y/N)’ he said loudly. You were still riding him and gasping for air. He hit all the right spots and it felt so good to have him inside of you. You felt his hands trail down to your lower back and he carefully laid you on your back.

He was on top of you and thrusting faster inside of you. He tried the kiss you but the two of your were moaning uncontrollably. At this point you were more breathing each other in then actually kissing, but you loved every second of it. The way his breath felt on your skin, his lips ghosting over yours and his tongue occasionally sliding in your mouth. Suddenly a wave of pleasure flooded over you and you came hard crying out his name ‘O god Tom!’ you screamed. You laughed when you saw the smug look on his face. You grabbed his ass and squeezed it. He began to moan out loud again. His thrusts were getting wilder and you knew he was close. After a few more thrusts he thrusted one more time as deep as he could. He grunted loudly and stayed in that position for a few seconds. After that he collapsed on top of you, but supported himself a bit to make sure he didn’t crush you. Once he caught his breath he moved to his side of the bed. He went to the bathroom to get rid of the condom and after that you went to clean yourself. When you came back Tom laid in bed, waiting for you with a large grin on his face.

You crawled into the bed and he immediately pulled you close to him. The two of you cuddled in silence for a while and you felt yourself become sleepy. ‘So, what are your plans tomorrow?’ he asked you. ‘I am going with my friends to a museum, then some sightseeing and at the night we grab a bit to eat and go out you replied. ‘What are you going to do?’ you asked. He sighed loudly ‘Oh, well. I fly back in three days and in the meantime I have time to kill, but don’t know anybody here. It sure would be lovely to spend a day like that in your company’ he said a bit too obvious while pulling you close. ‘Are you trying to invite yourself?’ you giggled. ‘Hm.. maybe I am. Would you mind that?’ he asked you. ‘No, you are more then welcome to join us. I just thought that after tonight you maybe didn’t want to’ you replied. His face nuzzled in the crook of your neck ‘Darling, the first thing I’m going to do tomorrow is ask your phone number, because I really like to see you again’ he whispered. And with that you fell asleep.

Tags: @delightfulheartdream​

If you want to be added to the taglist, you can contact me :)

#tom hiddelson #tom hiddleston x ofc #tom hiddleston smut #tom hiddleston one shot #tom hiddleston x you #tom hiddleston x reader #Smut #shameless smut #tom hiddleston fic #tom hiddleston fluff #tom hiddleston fandom #tom hiddleston fanfiction #tom hiddleston story

[novamirmirsblog]

No more bed

Word count: 2113

Genre: Not actually sure :3

Request: No

Warnings: Swearing, kissing?

A/N that's the end of the only one bed trope. Technically requests are now closed but if you think of another overused trope you want me to write then feel free to send it in!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

You didn't eat that night and went straight to bed when you got too tired to focus on the words. You had made sure the pillow wall was twice the size it was to begin with. You turned off your light when you heard Natasha's footsteps come to the door, turning your back to her and pretending to be asleep. Your breaths were deep and completely even, there was no way Natasha could have guessed you were still awake. You felt her hesitate over you and the smell of reheated food invaded your nose and then heard her walk away.

The words she said back in that forest shouldn't have hurt you as much but they did. You shouldn't care what she thinks. It doesn't matter that she doesn't believe in your skills as an agent, that she doesn't think you're pretty enough to grab someone's attention.

If Natasha thought the bickering and coolness was bad at the start of the week, she was in for a shock. When she finally came back to that tiny, godforsaken bed and did her usual trick of sliding her foot over the pillow wall, you got up, took a pillow and the spare blanket and went to sleep on the rug in the living room.

When morning rolled around, you couldn't even be bothered to talk to her, focusing much more on the task ahead, just wanting this week to be over. It wasn't even the hurt you were feeling, it was the frustration that you felt hurt that drove you to stop talking to her. You hated her. She was annoying. She had no respect for anything anyone does.

You spent most the day preparing for the party that evening. Sure, it shouldn't take you over half a day to get ready but you had finished your paperwork early and you wanted to try on every single dress and suit SHIELD had supplied you with. You ended up choosing a navy blue, off the shoulder ball gown. Thinking logistically, it was quite possibly one of the worst things you could have worn. A pantsuit would have been a much more suitable choice and yet you looked and - more importantly - felt hot in the dress.

~~~~~

"You're not seriously wearing that are you?" Natasha asked as we both began to change into our formal wear. She had let you splurge out on a taxi but only after you had to walk what felt like 500 miles so no one would know where you were staying.

"Why not?" You asked with a fakeness in your voice "It's a no contact mission, plus, no one would look at me anyway, right?"

"Y/n, that's not what I-"

"Oh look. We're here." You get out the cab before Natasha can finish what she's saying.

Ivan might be an evil person, but he sure does know how to throw a party. It was elegant and high class and he made his way over to you as soon as he saw you. You had both agreed that you would keep him distracted while Natasha grabbed the relevant information.

"Dorogaya, u tebya poluchilos!" (Darling, you made it!) Ivan opened his arms wide, grabbed you by the shoulders and placed a kiss on both of your cheeks.

"Konechno, kak ya mog ignorirovat' takuyu ​​zagadku?" (Of course, how could I ignore something so mysterious?) You laughed and he moved his arm to around your waist.

"Prikhodite, prikhodite, yest' lyudi, kotorykh vy dolzhny vstretit'" (Come, come, there are people you should meet)

~~~~~

Ivan spent most the night introducing you to different 'modelling' agencies. You knew what he was doing, he was showing you off to potential buyers. Ivan ran a human trafficking ring along with some other not so nice business. You weren't worried - not in the slightest. Although, as the night drew on and Natasha still hadn't said anything, you were getting a little more... concerned.

You managed to excuse yourself to the bathroom. Once inside, you tapped the earpiece repeatedly, praying Natasha would answer you.

"Romanoff where are you? Have you got the data?"

Silence

"Seriously, I'm sorry I've been ignoring you but this is childish now."

More silence

"I'll let you have the bed?"

Static rang out in your ear.

Of course SHIELD gave you a crappy ear piece. It was ridiculous. They provided you with three million dresses but couldn't give you a working piece of tech.

Just as you pulled out the burner phone, you felt a needle slide into your neck and the world went black.

~~~~~

"Y/n I have the data."

Nothing. Maybe you were still mad at her.

"Y/n do you copy?"

Still nothing.

"Y/n?"

Natasha's heart beat a little faster.

"Come on Y/n. I'm sorry. I'll let you have the bed?" Her burner phone pinged. It was your location. Shit.

~~~~~

You woke up and looked around, seeing that you were in the rundown hideout, you put your head back on the pillow. Everything felt heavy.

"You were drugged." Natasha states, standing in the corner of the room, her arms crossed and eyes never leaving you.

"Oh." It was all you could muster up the energy to say.

"We leave tomorrow morning."

You push yourself up into a sitting position. "How long was I out?"

"3 hours."

You looked at Natasha, really looked at her. "Then why are you still covered in blood?"

Everything of Natasha's had some kind of bloodstain. She hadn't even washed her hands. It may have been dark in the corner she was standing in, having only the side lamp to illuminate the room, but her skin seemingly glowed, making the blood stand out.

She turned around and left, heading towards the bathroom. You wanted to get up to follow her but while your mouth worked again, your legs did not. Apparently whatever they used on you was a lot stronger than you thought because you fell out of the bed. Again. Natasha rushed out, getting to you in an instant, except this time there were no sly remarks.

"Careful princess, people might think you care." You grin, only for it to drop immediately when you saw a slight wetness to the corners of her eyes. "Hey, it's okay." You said softly. If she wasn't as close to you, Natasha would have missed it.

"I didn't know where you were. I-I thought you had gone off to try and prove something and then I saw you lying there, in some basement Ivan had. You-you looked so... dead."

"But I'm not." you reached up and gingerly stroked her hair, not wanting to spook her. "And look!" You gestured to your toes that were wiggling "I can feel my legs again!"

Natasha let out a slightly wet laugh. "I'm really sorry."

"For what? These things happen all the time. Although I will say, you seem to be unlucky because my missions always go wrong with you." You nudged her shoulder, crossing your legs so you faced her, both of you still on the floor.

"For making you think you weren't attractive. For basically drugging you myself."

"Don't be ridiculous Natasha. You didn't drug me."

"I might as well have done! If I had just agreed with you instead of fighting you, then you wouldn't have felt like you had to prove anything."

"You think I'm attractive?"

"Seriously? That's what we're choosing to focus on now."

"Umm yes? I know it wasn't your fault at all but now I want to hear about how attractive I am." You smirked and Natasha stood up abruptly.

"I'm having a shower."

"Is that a nice cold shower for you to try to get over me?" You shouted as she slammed the door shut.

~~~~~

Natasha came out of the shower half an hour later, towel drying her hair.

"I think you're attractive too." You whispered out, half hoping Natasha wouldn't hear it.

She stilled. Looking at you, trying to see if you were lying.

"Then why do you hate me?"

"I don't think I do. Not anymore."

Natasha stayed silent, encouraging you to continue.

"I didn't like the avengers in general. You guys all act like you're so much better than us. You get all the perks of looking good and none of the paperwork. You don't know the amount of times I've seen top level agents filling out avenger paperwork when they should be out in the field. I thought you were all lazy but spending this week with you... well it made me realise that maybe you're not all that bad."

Natasha had moved herself to the bed, just watching you speak. You looked over to her, signalling that you had finished all that you wanted to say.

"I'm sorry I ever made you doubt yourself. I'll talk to the team about actually doing their paperwork. Who's the worst?" She asked, curiosity laced in her tone

"Steve."

Natasha let out a full blown laugh at that. "Wait seriously?"

"Yup. I see him all the time, constantly trying to offload his paperwork to someone else. I always thought it would be Tony but it's definitely Steve, then Bruce. Then it's probably Tony."

"I promise I'll try to make them stop."

"I wouldn't make promises you can't keep." You laughed.

"Why...why did you doubt me?" You asked, a little more serious than before.

"It's not that I doubted you... I guess I just didn't like the way you spoke to Ivan..."

"You mean the flirting?"

"Maybe..."

You sat in silence for a bit, you couldn't figure out why. It's not like it was against any rules and it all worked in your favour. Then, it clicked.

"Natasha Romanoff were you jealous!" You let out a slight gasp and grinned at her.

"No. No of course not." Natasha got defensive. There was no way she was jealous of that old, wrinkly, nasty smelling man.

"Aww princess!" You adjusted yourself so you were completely facing her. "I can flirt with you too if you want." Your voice got slightly lower and your eyelids dropped a fraction, making your pupils seem bigger. While you raised your voice a few octaves for Ivan, you knew that to seduce a woman you had to lower it a little.

"Stop it." Natasha hit you.

"But why baby?" You grabbed her chin and tilted her face towards you. "Now you don't have to be jealous." You sent her a wink and let her chin go, watching as her eyes got a little darker.

"Go away. I want nothing to do with you or your terrible flirting."

"You say my flirting is terrible" Your voice now back to normal, "But your body is saying something different."

"Wrong. My body is saying nothing."

"No?"

No."

"Okay then! Night night princess." You leant over to switch off the light when Natasha grabbed your arm, causing you to look back over to her.

"Calling me princess... it - ugh... well it -" Natasha looked conflicted before glancing up to you, looking at your lips and kissing you.

You were shocked. You knew you shouldn't have been. All the signs were there and you were a very good flirt but actually feeling her lips on yours made your brain short-circuit. You kissed her back and climbed into her lap.

"We're not doing it here." You said when you both broke the kiss

"Why not?" Natasha looked at you, her hands running all over you.

"Because I'm 90% sure there are rats and I really don't want to catch something"

Natasha laughed and kissed you a little more. "Fair enough. We should stop this now then."

You kissed her neck. "Yes. We should definitely stop now."

~~~~~

Just before you were due to leave, you called Natasha into the bedroom.

"Y/n, we have to go."

"I know I know but watch." You bounced excitedly as you threw a match at the bed.

"Y/n what the hell!?"

"Well, if you remember correctly, I said that if you crossed the pillow divide, I would burn the bed with you in it. As you can see, I'm generously leaving you out of the bed. You're welcome."

Natasha just looked at you. "I can't believe I like you."

"Aww you like me? That's kind of embarrassing for you." You laughed as you linked arms with her, walking to the jet, but not before Natasha convinced you to put out the fire on the bed.

You watched as the fire fizzled out and silently thanked that damn bed for bringing you and Natasha closer. Literally. It didn't mean you weren't going to have a long chat with Fury about proper size beds though.

#natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanov #natasha x you #natasha romanov x reader #natasha x y/n #natasha romanoff #natasha x reader #black widow x female reader #black widow imagine #black widow x you #black widow #black widow x reader #only one bed trope

[toastmegureshin]

Songs That Remind Me of Gureshin Pt. 1

So this is a series I’ve wanted to make for a while now where I find song lyrics that are made just for Gureshin 😙

(Some lyrics may definitely hit different for y’all manga/light novel readers ✨)

For the first song of the series, and in honor of the cat16 advent calendar (Day 15), I’ve chosen one that would take place during Catastrophe at 16 from Shinya’s pov 💗

——————————————————

“Numbers” by The Cab

You were unexpected, when our lips connected.

I was resurrected, never found a love like you.

Don't care where I'm headed when the world is ending

'Cause you are my heaven, never found a love like you.

Sleep, dream, you, repeat. Live, die next to me.

Sleep, dream, you, repeat. Sleep, dream…

Out of the seven billion people in this world, there's only you.

Almost a million words that I could say, but none of them will do.

So many years that I have lived, but it feels like I've just begun.

Out of the seven billion people, baby, you're the only one.

Notes:

It won’t be 7 billion people anymore, but Shinya doesn’t know that (yet)

Obviously Shinya doesn’t/can’t know about his resurrection, but I like to think that Guren did bring him “back to life” after he lost all meaning in living 💔

Part 2

#cat16 advent calendar #gureshin #seraph of the end #owari no seraph #catastrophe at sixteen #shinya hiragi #guren ichinose #ons

[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

my body is a cage.

ObNeSummary: Y/N’s worst nightmare has become a reality. Her only saving grace is that she doesn’t have to do it alone. 

Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4,000+ [One Shot]

Warning: Feminist Issues, Adult/Mature Themes (NOT smut)

Y/N could feel her heart start racing faster as she studied the doctor’s office. Now she was starting to sweat as well. 

Her doctor were running late and that meant Y/N was stuck looking at the nondescript walls and smelling that sterile scent for 20 minutes. It felt like an hour. 

It was just a follow-up appointment. There was no bad news expected to be given. But that didn’t stop Y/N’s anxiety. 

Y/N finally gave up on trying to calm herself down through breathing and reached down to grab her cellphone out of her purse. 

There was a two text message notifications: one from her mom and one from Jason. 

She opened the one from Jason. 

– Good luck at your appointment today. Remember to breathe. 

Y/N smirked at the message. Jason knew how stressed out Y/N got for literally any type of doctor’s appointments. Even if it was just your usual checkup – like today – it caused her anxiety for some reason. 

Jason must’ve sent it right before passing out after patrol. 

Finally the doctor came in, making Y/N jump and almost drop her phone. She hid her scare well and quickly put her phone back into her purse. 

“Hi Y/N, so we finally got your blood work back,” she began. 

“Great. Will I be able to get a prescription and pick it up today?” Y/N asked quickly, wanting to get out of there as quickly as possible. 

“So one of the many reasons we get blood drawn before prescribing this medication is to make sure you’re not pregnant before going on it.” Before Y/N could speak, she quickly added. “You’re test results came back positive.” 

Y/N’s mouth opened at the statement. 

Her mind was going a million miles a second, trying to process what the doctor has just told her. 

When was the last time she had her period?

Why did it feel 20 degrees hotter in here all of the sudden?

This couldn’t be happening. No. No. No. This really couldn’t be happening. She tried so, so hard to make sure this didn’t happen. This was her nightmare. This was her fucking nightmare coming to fucking life. 

By some miracle, the doctor didn’t smile with joy and exclaim a congratulations. She seemed to sense that Y/N was on the brink of having an anxiety attack. 

“I remember you saying you did’t intend on ever having any kids, so I’m sure this is a lot to process,” the doctor told her gently. “Why don’t we hold off on this medication – even if it’s just for a couple of days? Just give yourself a second to process and come up with a plan.” Then she gave Y/N an encouraging smile. “When you want to make another appointment, I’ll make sure reception squeezes you in. Alright?” 

Y/N couldn’t do anything but nod – and even that was far too delayed. 

“Do you want me to call someone for you?” The doctor asked softly. 

But Y/N shook her head. 

When Y/N got out of the doctor’s office and back on the streets of Gotham, she seemed to snap out of it a bit. 

Her ears weren’t ringing any longer and the cold, winter air was doing miracles. 

‘Get to Jason,’ Y/N’s heart suddenly screamed at her. 

And just like that, Y/N went into autopilot, grabbed a cab, and gave them her address. As she watched the buildings go by, Y/N’s mind was simultaneously thinking a million things and thinking nothing at all. It was almost a buzz. 

When she got back to her apartment, the TV was on but the volume was off. Sometimes Jason would watch it after patrol and hope it would bore him to sleep. But her giant, vigilante of a boyfriend wasn’t sleeping on the couch, so that meant he was in their bed. 

Y/N toed off her shoes, tossed her keys on the side table by the door, and hung her denim jacket – no, Jason’s denim jacket – on the coat rack. 

She slowly pushed the bedroom door open to find Jason passed out on his side. His arm was reached over to the other side of the bed as if his body had searched out for hers in his sleep and came up empty. 

Y/N tiptoed to the bed and carefully slid into the empty side of the bed. 

Jason stayed asleep, meaning he must’ve been really exhausted. Usually her presence would stir him, even if it was just for a few seconds. 

Sometimes Y/N would come in here when she got back from work and take a cat nap with him before getting started on dinner or leaving to work out. Sometimes she would just cuddle with him, he would wake up and sleepily ask about her day while bringing her into his – even when she told him to go back to sleep. 

Now Y/N laid on her side and watched him sleep. 

Even when he looked exhausted and various scars were scattered across his face, Jason Todd was beautiful. 

And when he was sleeping like this, he looked so young. Y/N wondered if that was how Jason always looked to Bruce: innocent, vulnerable, forever young.

Y/N reached forward shakily and brushed the white streak of his hair off his face. His hair was getting shaggier than usually allowed. She wondered if he’d ask her to cut it again or if he’d finally listen to her and go to a barber. 

“You run your hands through my hair and I’ll be putty in your hands,” he mumbled with his eyes still closed. 

Y/N froze and stopped her combing, her hands shooting back to her chest. 

Her silence and pause made Jason’s eyes squint open. 

Those blue eyes of his were always perception, especially when it came to the woman he loved with all his heart. And as soon as they locked with Y/Ns, they immediately knew that something was wrong. 

His brow wrinkled. “You OK?” His voice laced with worry and concern.

Suddenly… Y/N’s mind and body were given the chance to release the reaction they wanted to have since the news was broken.

Her bottom lip trembled a moment before tears burst from her eyes. 

And then Y/N was shoving her face into her boyfriend’s chest. 

“Hey, hey, hey,” Jason consoled. “What happened? What’s going on?” 

But Y/N couldn’t even form words. She was fully hyperventilating. 

Her chest literally hurt as the sobs escaped. She was shaking as if it was freezing in the room, despite Jason’s body basically being her own personal furnace. And she felt like she was going to throw up at any second. 

Was that morning sickness? Or was the just good ol’ fashioned nausea?

Jason quickly realized he wasn’t going to get any verbal communication right now. So he just held her in his arms, letting her cry it out as he rubbed a hand up and down her back. 

But his mind was shuffling through all of the possibilities. 

Had someone hurt her? Did she get fired? Did a group of assholes catcall her on the way home? 

But none of those seemed like things that would upset Y/N in such a manner. 

“Breathe, Y/N. Take a deep breath,” he told her calmly as he kissed the top of her head. 

She barely gave a nod to show that she was trying to do what he advised. 

With her eyes wet and bloodshot from tears and her face swollen, Y/N finally pulled away from Jason’s chest so he could see her. 

“Deep breath,” he reminded her again gently. “Can you tell me what’s gotten you so upset? Can you do that for me?”

Y/N sniffled, really just to buy herself a second before she said it. 

“I’m pregnant.”

Jason’s body tensed. His eyes studied hers, looking for any sign that she was not being absolutely serious. 

“Fuckin’ Christ,” Jason muttered, now realizing why she’d had such a reaction. 

But then he quickly recovered, realizing that she still needed him because she was freaking the fuck out. Obviously. She just had a full-on panic attack in his arms. And she was probably moments away from possibly having another. 

“Hey,” he whispered. “Hey, look at me.”

She took in a deep breath and did as he asked. 

“No one is going to make you do anything you don’t want to. OK?”

She just stared at him. 

“OK?” He asked again, making sure she understood what he was telling her. 

She nodded. 

“I don’t want it,” Y/N exhaled. 

The words came out on their own, like she had no control over them. 

Jason winced, not at her statement, but because she sounded so desperate and scared. 

He gave her a sympathetic look and cupped her cheek. “I know, Y/N. I know.” 

Then he brought her back into his arms, holding her protectively, as usual – but protecting her from something he never had to before. 

“I know how you feel about it. I’ve always did,” he told her softly. “Just try to relax. OK?”

She nodded. 

Jason didn’t try to fill the silence. He didn’t try to say comfort after comfort. His touch did more things for Y/N then he words ever did. She needed to be held, not lectured or verbally coddled.

After a few moments, he looked down at her. “We can order from your favorite place, OK? Have a little movie marathon or finish watching that show.”

She gave him a small, shy smile at that.

“Sound good,” he asked. 

She nodded again. 

———

30 minutes later, Jason was scrolling the internet, researching Planned Parenthood locations while waiting for their takeout to get there. 

Y/N, exhausted from her emotional and mental breakdown, had fallen asleep a few minutes after telling Jason the news. 

Jason figured the least he could do is take the logistical weight off Y/N’s shoulders. All of this was happening to her and it was his fault. He knew she’d never frame it that way, but that’s how he felt right now. And he’d do anything to make it easier for her. 

But all of the sudden, the hairs on the back of Jason’s neck suddenly stood on end. 

The next millisecond, he grabbed the nearest hidden gun, shot to his feet, and pointed it at the window. 

“Relax, Todd.”

“Demon Spawn, what the fuck are you doing here?” Jason lowered the gun. 

To Jason’s annoyance, Damian jumped down from the window and into the apartment, dressed in his full Robin uniform. 

“When you texted about covering your patrol tonight, father asked me to check on you.”

Jason narrowed his eyes. “Liar. No, he didn’t.”

“So, why aren’t you on patrol?” 

“Y/N needed me.”

Damian’s body tensed. 

For as much of hard time as Damian gave Jason, he didn’t mind his girlfriend. However, the preteen would never admit to actually liking her or enjoying time spent with her. But the whole family saw it anyway. 

“Is she sick?” 

Jason just nodded, not really having the energy to compose a big lie. 

Then Damian caught sight of the laptop screen and saw what Jason had been researching. 

“Oh,” Damian blurted out without thinking. It was a very unusual reaction from him. He always had something to say.  

“Just…keep it to yourself, k?” Jason asked. 

The last thing he needed right now was Damian blabbing around about Y/N. 

But Damian nodded, not giving any further reaction to his discovery. 

———

“What’s Alfred the Cat doing here?” Y/N asked as she cradled the cat and walking into the kitchen the next morning. 

“Damian,” was all Jason provided.

Y/N laughed at his crypticness. “Did he need a cat sitter?”

Jason shook his head. “He came snooping when I told them I wasn’t going on patrol. And…Well, he’s Bruce’s kid, so you can imagine how quickly he put it together.”

Y/N’s amusement dropped when she realized what Jason was saying. 

“He brought some of human Alfred’s cookies for you, too.” Jason added quickly, maybe to soften the blow a bit. 

“That was sweet of him,” was all Y/N mumbled in return. 

“I think he was worried about you. Figured some cookies and cuddles from Alfred would make you feel better,” Jason explained. “Of course, he didn’t verbally express any of that because he’s emotionally constipated.”

Y/N managed to force a smirk at the joke. 

Silence filled the kitchen. 

“I made you an appointment today,” Jason told her gently. “Not that I’m trying to force you to do anything. You can cancel it if you want to. I was just trying to–”

“Thank you,” Y/N cut him off and dropped the cat to wrap Jason in a hug. “Thank you, Jason.” She repeated, mumbled this time, since her face was now buried in his chest. 

“Of course,” he told her before kissing her head. “Want some breakfast?”

He chuckled when he felt her nodding enthusiastically against him. 

“Your favorite?”

She nodded again. 

“You gonna let me go so I can make it?”

She shook her head no. 

“Alright, spider monkey, let’s do this.”

Y/N’s laughter filled the room as Jason somehow managed to maneuver her body so she was on his back with her arms wrapped around his neck. And she piggybacked around the kitchen with him as he made them breakfast. 

———

“Welp,” Y/N said bitterly as she looked at the building from across the street. “Don’t know how I wasn’t expecting this.”

Jason sighed as he watched too. 

There were a dozen people with picket signs. One said, “It’s a child, not a choice.” Another said, “Jesus loves you both.” One of the men had a megaphone. One woman held a box with figurines that inaccurately showed how far along the fetus would be when it’s aborted. 

“Wait here,” was all Jason said. 

“Wait, what? Jason! Jason, don’t!” Y/N hissed. 

But Jason was already halfway across the street. With the traffic and general noice of Gotham, Y/N could hear nothing. But it was clear that he was talking to him. 

“Oh, for christ’s sake,” Y/N sighed when she saw all of their faces shift to utter horror. Whatever he was saying to them had clearly terrified them. 

It only took a minute before Jason jogged back to her and offered his hand. 

“Come on,” he said encouragingly. 

“What the fuck did you just do?” She asked him. 

“I told them all of their names, social security numbers, and addresses,” Jason told her lightly. “Oh! And their top porn searched.” He gave them a glance. “And said if they even so much as looked at you, I would do what I wanted with that information."

“So…you threatened them.”

Jason tilted his head and shrugged innocently. “I wouldn’t put it that way…”

“Jason…” she groaned. 

“I thought you would be proud. I didn’t use physical violence. I’m growing!”

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh. 

But lo and behold, none of the protesters so much as faced their direction as they walked past. 

Y/N wondered how long it took Jason to memorize all that information. Did he ask Tim to hack street cameras and use face recognition to even find all of them? 

In the most messed up way, it warmed Y/N’s heart. It just showed a new angle of Jason’s protectiveness. Guess that was just another perk of dating a dangerous vigilante with too many connections and resources. 

Besides his little threat, Jason hadn’t let go of Y/N’s hand since they left the apartment – even now, as they sat in the waiting room. 

If he was anxious at all, he was doing a beautiful job of hiding it.

Y/N guessed that’s what happened when someone had the history of Jason. This was like a walk in the park for him.  

But when they called her name, Y/N looked at Jason with slight panic. 

“I can’t go with you. It’s against policy,” he told her softly. “But I’ll be right here when you get out. OK?”

She nodded. 

He must’ve learned that when he was doing all his research. 

“You good? Huh?” He whispered, keeping eye contact. 

She nodded again. 

“You’ll be fine,” then he kissed her. 

Just as Y/N reached the nurse, she turned to her boyfriend again. “I love you,” she mouthed to him. 

“I love you too,” he mouthed back. 

———

Y/N had been drained when they finally got back to their apartment. 

All she wanted was to take a nap with her boyfriend. 

A couple hours later, she had finally had the energy to stay awake. 

But neither of them had any interest in getting out of bed. So instead they stayed cuddled close.

“How are you feeling?” Jason asked her. 

“Physically or mentally?” 

“Both.”

“Physically, fine mostly. Some cramping. They said that was normal. But my period is ten times worse.” Then she sighed. “Mentally…like…I’m in control. Does that make sense?”

Jason nodded. 

“And relieved. Fuck,” she half laughed. “I can’t tell you how relieved I am.” 

“I’m glad.”

Then Y/N smirked mischievously. “Are you sad you won’t see me wearing those stupid overalls with a baby bump,” then she dramatically fanned her hands, “as we have a montage of us painting a nursery?”

Jason laughed at that. “OK. Well I don’t live in a fucking Lifetime commercial.” Then he smirked. “I’ll take the overalls without the baby bump, though.” 

She giggled at that. 

“But it’s a real shame we couldn’t have a gender reveal party and burn down all of Gotham accidentally…” Jason thought aloud. 

Y/N tried to suppress a smile, “…you do realize the point of those parties is to reveal the baby’s gender and not to burn a city down, right?” 

“Well, fuck.” Jason played dumb. “The only appealing part of that was the arson.”

“It would’ve been funny to fuck with people, though.” Y/N’s eyes went distant as she thought about it. “Put in black balloons or just a rainbow assortment. And just see how everyone reacted.”

“Missed opportunity,” Jason sighed. 

“Why are traditions so stupid and embarrassing?”

They both laughed. 

“I’d have to suffer through a stupid baby shower. And then you’d get to come in at the very end and just wave at everyone. Men really got it made, huh? Just show up, and everyone applauds.” 

Jason laughed, knowing she was absolutely right. Enough of the Justice League had kids for him to know that was how it worked. 

“Like those videos where dads do their daughter’s hair and everyone loses their mind and praises him. But name one time a video has gone viral of a mom doing her kid’s hair.”

“The bar’s low,” he reminded Y/N. 

But then Jason watched Y/N’s smile fall from her face as she got lost in her head. 

“What?”

Her brow furrowed. “Do you think I’m a bad person?”

“What?” He gripped her chin. “Absolutely not.”

“I don’t feel bad. There’s no remorse,” Y/N mumbled with as her eyes zoned out. “All I feel is weight lifted off of me.”

“Hey,” his voice was low and serious. “Hey, look at me.” 

He waited for her to do what he asked. “You’re not a bad person. You hear me?” 

Then he started making himself angry with the thought that anyone would ever tell Y/N otherwise. 

“You know what a bad person looks like? Someone who doesn’t take having a child seriously. Someone who makes that decision half-assed, knowing they’re bringing a child into a toxic environment or that they can’t properly take care of them.”

Jason made himself calm down. “That doesn’t make you a bad person. It just proves that you did exactly what you knew was best.” 

She nodded, finally convinced by his words. 

Y/N reached forward and brushed some hair off his face. 

Jason was so god damn handsome. No wonder I got pregnant, she thought darkly. This is exactly how she got into this mess. It was hard just to keep her hands off of him. 

“If I ask you something, do you promise you’ll tell me the truth?” 

He cocked an eyebrow at her. “I’ll try my best.”

Her eyes twisted into something somber and afraid. 

“Do you really never want kids?” 

Jason should’ve expected this question at some point. 

Even though Y/N didn’t verbalize it, Jason knew that one of her biggest fear throughout all of this was that it would change their relationship. She was scared that he would resent her, that he would change his mind and beg her to keep it. 

Maybe it was her tone that was really the thing that caught him off guard. She sounded so scared of what he would say. 

Jason rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. Not because he wanted to hide the truth by stopping her from staring into his eyes. He just wanted to make sure he collected al of this thoughts. She deserved a proper answer. 

“I never planned on being a father,” the statement was unwavering. “You know how my childhood went. And I see the same thing happening to kids all over Gotham today – some of them have it so much worse than I did.”

Y/N reached forward and placed her palm on his chest, right over his heart. Without thinking, his hand went to grip it. 

“But you would never be like that,” she assured him. “You’re a good man, Jason. I mean, just look at how you are with Damian – no matter how hard you try to hide your soft spot for that boy.”

“I know I can be a good father. Except before you were in my life, I didn’t know that.” 

If he were really tell the truth, he would tell Y/N that without her, there most likely wouldn’t even be a Jason Todd...only Red Hood. 

He looked away from the ceiling and back at her. “But that doesn’t want I want to be.” 

“So you can honestly say that you never want a family? Even if wasn’t with me?” 

“Y/N, look at my family,” Jason laughed. “None of us our related. Bruce is a mess of a father. His biological son was basically artificially inseminated. The butler is more like our grandma who raised us. All of them tried to take me down and imprison me at one point or another...”

He shook his head at the ridiculousness. “The point is that I know more than anyone that family can look like a million different things. And the perfect outline society has forced onto us doesn’t actually mean shit.”

He grinned. “My family is a group of vigilantes who don’t know how to quit.” His eyes softened. “And then there’s you. You’re my family, too. I don’t need add anything else for that to be true.” 

Y/N couldn’t help herself and she practically tackled him into a kiss. 

Jason gripped her waist and twisted them so she was straddling his waist, and his hands traced up and down the side of her ribcage. 

After their lips separate, Y/N looked down at him lovingly. 

She let a moment pass. 

“What if I changed my mind?”

“I think you and I both know you never will.”

“But what if I did?” She insisted. 

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly. “I really don’t.”

Y/N just wanted to challenge him. She wanted to go through all the scenarios her mind wouldn’t stop thinking about. She needed answers to the hypothetical scenarios that would never come to be. 

“I’m not going to change my mind,” she told him certainly. 

“I know, Y/N.”

She kissed him again. “Thank you for supporting me through all of this.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” he scoffed. “It’s my fault.” 

And he meant it. Most days, Jason had to convince himself he was worthy of her love. What kind of man would be lucky enough to have Y/N as their girl and not do everything in his power to make sure it stayed that way?

“No, it wasn’t,” she corrected him seriously. “It was both of us.” 

“You can’t scare me away,” Jason told her. “Nothing is ever gonna stop me from loving you. Got it?”

She nodded. 

But before she could say anything more, Jason wrapped her in a heated kiss. 

He knew these questions were her anxiety manifesting itself. And Y/N had enough stress for today. So he’d turned off her mind with his touches. 

She deserved a break. 

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

I don’t know how I managed to write yet another one of these fics. But I realized it was easier to give it a new twist since Jason Todd has a sense of humor and an edge that Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers do not. Also, he wasn’t raised in the 1930s. lol

Please, please, please let me know if you liked it!!!

If anyone is interested in movies on this topic, I highly recommend these:

Never Rarely Sometimes Always 

Unpregnant 

4 Months, 3 Weeks, 2 Days

Obvious Child

#jason todd fic #jason todd x reader #jason todd x fem!reader #jason todd reader insert #red hood fic #red hood x reader #red hood reader insert #batfam #batman family #batboys #dc #batman universe #jason todd angst #pro choice #pro-choice #feminism

[echos-newlegs]

Can I request 8 from the list with Tech?

Stop Thinking

Ahh yes!

Tech x Reader: "No, no- I liked it."

Warnings: slight cursing

Tech licked his lips. Squinting with furrowed brows as he looked at himself in the mirror. He was feeling self conscious about himself, and it didn't help you and the others decided to head for 79s. A place full of regs.. Normal clones. Perfect clones. Clones you seemed to get along with as well as you got along with him and his brothers.

"Tech, you about ready?" Your voice called from outside the door, and he felt his breath catch. "I uh, yeah, one second." He called back. Running his fingers through his hair one last time. Then slipping out of the fresher. None of you were dressed fancy. You all had your blacks on and lower armor still attached. The others already waiting outside while you stayed back for Tech.

He looked over to you. You were seated on a chair. Fixing your boots, then straightening up when you saw him trail out. "You feeling okay?" You asked. Looking at his slightly distressed form. Hands trembling a bit. "Yeah, I'm fine." You frowned. You knew he wasn't, but you didn't try and press it.

You stood up, looking up to the taller male with a small smile. "Ready then?" He nodded. You opening the door and heading out of the Marauder. Closing the door behind the two of you. He was quieter than normal as the two of you trailing behind his brothers as they bickered and rambled.

You were concerned to say the least. "It's really nice tonight, " you tried to start a conversation and he looked over. Nodding a bit. He was thankful you were trying. His mind was wandering, degrading every little thing about himself. "It really is, the stars are beautifully aligned, too." He commented, and you smiled. Looking up as the five of you went to get a cab.

You and Tech had to take a separate one. The ride was quiet, but it wasn't awkward. You were relaxed and he felt a little better just with you. You never once treated him differently for being defective. You treated him with the same respect you did other clones. If anything, you were a bit nicer to him than most. Always holding conversations, smiling his way, or going out of your way to help him. It always made his day a little brighter. Especially on days like these.

"You gunna dance with me?" You asked as you both approached 79's. You've only danced with him once. It was when you were both pretty buzzed, he was actually drunker than you. Which was a shock, but you never forgot it. It was one of the best nights of your life, and by the way he smiled fondly and his cheeks tinted pink. You were sure he at least remembered a bit of it. "Sure," you giggled a bit at that.

You walked out of the cab. Tech waiting for you to catch up with him. Two of you walking in to see the rest of the gang towards the back where they normally sat. You were going to head back there, but was stopped by the 104th. "Y/n!" Comet and Sinker nearly screamed as they ran over to you. Making you smile and snicker. Giving Tech a small glance as if to say you would join him in a bit. It didn’t take him long to disband from your side and head for the others.

You could practically feel who you assumed was Crosshair glaring daggers into the back of your skull for the five minutes you were talking to the troopers. You were just catching up, it was harmless. Or at least that’s what you thought.

“Sorry, I’m back,” you spoke with a small laugh as you sat at the booth the bad batch took over as theirs. “Welcome!” Wrecker chirped. Shoving you lightly with a snicker, and you snickered back. Eyes moving to Hunter and Crosshairs. “What..?” You spoke with a bit of a frown. “Why were you talking to them?” Cross spat, and you sighed. “Cross, I used to work for the 104th, I’m not about to ignore them. How’d you feel if I got assigned another troop and I just straight up ignored you guys?” You spat back. You noticed Hunters expression changed. He seemed to change his view point on it all, but Crosshair just scoffed.

“We should just enjoy our drinks-“ “Can it, Tech,” Cross sneered, and his eyes moved back to yours. Leaning over the table, but you didn’t back up. “They’re regs, we don’t talk to them, what part of that do you not understand?” It was your turn to lean in now. Furrowing your brow. “What part of you don’t run my life do you not understand?” You snarled. Smacking your hands on the table and standing.

“Wait, where are you going?” Wrecker asked, and you didn’t even turn to answer. “The bar.” Tech sat there and sighed. Head in hands. “They mean no harm and you know it,” “Tech we know as good as you that you feel insecure when she talks with the Regs.” Tech snapped his attention to his brother. Frown forming on his face. Nostrils flaring, “You don’t know bantha shit,” he snapped, and headed off to the bar as well.

It was nights like these he wished he was normal. Kriff, he loved his brothers, but their attitudes were always too stern and glum. He needed change, so he decided to accompany you at the bar with Comet, Sinker, Boost, Wolffe, and a few other troopers.

You noticed him approaching, smiling, but then frowning a bit. “If you came to drag me back to the table I won’t. I’m not letting Crosshairs petty attitude ruin my night.” He shook his head, fingers fiddling with the armor on his thighs. “No, I came to join you, actually.” Your smiled returned. Shoving Comet with a grin. “Move over, Tech sits by me!” Comet grumbled a bit, but did as told. “Yes, Sir,” he spoke and you rolled your eyes with a toothy grin.

“Alright Tech, this is Comet, Sinker, and Boost, that over there is Wolffe.” Everyone but Wolffe waved. “Don’t let him scare you off, he’s actually quite enjoyable.” You informed Tech with a grin. Shooting Wolffe a wink, which made the commander roll his eyes. Lips curled just shy of a smile. “Everyone, this is Tech, a good friend of mine.” He knew it shouldn’t, but you addressing him as a friend and not a coworker made his chest bubble with joy. Smiling as the others waved and welcomed him.

You, Tech, and The Wolfpack all participated in some drinking games with one another. One of them was ‘take a shot each time you could make Wolffe roll his eyes, two if he rolled his head and eyes.’ Though after some time you all moved to a different one since the buzz was hitting and Sinker was singing ‘Sweet Caroline,’ in a near scream.

You were laughing and enjoying yourself, and Tech spent most of the time looking over and studying your face. The way your nose scrunched up when you scolded one of the troopers, jokingly. The way your eyes nearly closed when you were laughing at a joke. Or even just the way your smile never seemed to faulter. This is what he wanted. He wanted an environment like this. One with you happy constantly. Where you weren’t scolding his brothers for something stupid. Or even himself. He began to wonder if you should transfer back to the 104th, or another legion in general.

His thoughts got the best of him again. Zoning out as he played with an empty shot glass on the counter. Coming back to when you nudged his side. “Hm?” “You good, Tech?” You asked, and his eyes widened. Realizing he was zoned out. He nodded, forcing a smile. “Yeah uh, yeah I’m fine. I just uhm.. need some air, is all.” He spoke, turning in the chair and heading off to the doors. You weren’t about to let this slide any longer.

You jumped off your stool, heading for the door with him. Catching it before it closed. The music still able to be heard outside the door once shut. “Hey, what’s wrong?” You asked, watching him turn around with a near hurt expression. “Don’t lie, either, I know you aren’t okay, I’ve been working around you long enough to know that.” You spoke. Approaching him a bit closer. You watched as he caved in. You could see it by the way he seemed to slump forward. His light eyes seeming to shatter. Worrying at his bottom lip.

“Y/n?..” he spoke, and you tilted your head a bit. “What is it, Techy?” You didn’t use that nickname on him much. Mainly only for your ears to hear. You weren’t sure of it at first, but he seemed to take a liking to it. Tech closing his eyes and sighing at the nickname. Then slowly opening them again. “I don’t think you belong with us.” He told you, and you furrowed your brows. He could tell his words hurt you, and he knew they would. “What?” Your voice wavered a bit. “I don’t mean it in anything against you, Kriff. You’re absolutely perfect, but you just seem so much happier with the 104th.” He told you. “I want what’s best for you, and well,” he chuckled, beginning to pace in front of you. “Quite honestly we aren’t the best. We’re stubborn, hard to work with, and quite un-enjoyable half the times.”

You folded your arms over your chest. “And you think the Wolfpack is any better? Did you see Wolffe? His scold is worse than Hunter and Crosshairs combined, and he holds a grudge as long, and if not longer than all of you. Then Sinker? Boost? Comet? For stars sake they’re a handful, they’re crazy, and chaotic, and Tech. What I’m trying to say is every clone unit has its flaws. No matter what. Whether it be the commander, Captain, General, Arc Trooper, whoever. There’s flaws in everyone.” You told him.

He stopped his pacing. Watching you as you told your spew, “and honestly, Tech. You aren’t in the authority to tell me what is good for me. I enjoy you all, even if I disagree with you all at times. I don’t expect a perfect troop. We’re in a war for makers sake,” you spoke, and noticed him shift at the mention of the war. “I enjoy all of you. Tech.. I enjoy you.” His eyes lit up at that. Then he looked back down.

“I’m not like them though, I’m blind, I can’t see without.. Without these,” he tapped his goggles. “I’m tan, sure, but I’m lighter than even my brothers and.. I stand out, and I hate it, y/n,” he rubbed the back of his neck with a sigh. “I feel like I’m not good enough,” your heart shattered into a million tiny pieces at his words. Stepping closer. Pausing when he seemed to tense. Reaching out to place your hands on his shoulders as if to ground him as you looked up to him.

You just stood there, watching his eyes look over yours for a moment. Searching for an answer, like he always was. “Tech, stop thinking.” He furrowed his brow. “You’re overthinking all of this, you’re good enough, in my eyes you are.” You told him. Watching as he seemed to relax under your touch. Hands running up to rest on the sides of his neck. Thumbs rubbing his exposed skin. Making him shudder. “I don’t care if you’re different,or that you need glasses. Tech, you’re absolutely perfect to me. You’re brilliant, handsome, and a fucking badass.” You both snickered at that. Techs fingers tapping at his thighs.

“Thank you,” you smiled and nodded. “‘Course.” The both of you standing there for a second. Taking in the moment and the touch of one another. Then you made a move that you immediately blamed on the booze. Pressing a quick kiss to his lips, and he froze up. Eyes widening. “Sorry I-“ you blurted, taking a step back. Pulling your hands from the base of his neck, but he caught them with his. His hands carefully holding yours. “No no- I liked it,” he assured, and you both smiled. Cheeks tinted pink. “Well..” you hummed, “you still up for that dance?” He chuckled and nodded. “Always.”

#bad batch x reader #star wars #star wars writing #the bad batch #the clone wars #writing #the bad batch tech x reader #tech the bad batch #bad batch tech #tech x reader

[avengerslover-yee]

Ding-Dong (Part 1)

Tom Hiddleston x (Hemsworth) Reader (Female)

Reader is Chris Hemsworth’s little sister.

Warnings: talks about spending the night together, but no smut, talks of being naked, cuss words, talks of heartbreak, drinking, angst, fluff

^^from Pinterest lol ^^

You were sick of it

Sick of being used

Sick of being a pawn on someone else’s board

Sick of being manipulated and dumped by so many different people

You just wanted someone to actually love you, and actually be there for you

You dated so many people, boys, girls, anyone who showed a slight amount of interest in you

But they all ended the same way

They always ended with you getting your heartbroken

And then seeing them happy with someone else

So, you decided that trying to find someone wasn’t going to work for you

You were just going to have fun, no matter the consequences

And that’s how you ended up at the club at 2:00 in the morning, drinking a fruity drink that you didn’t really care for but it was there so you were drinking it.

You were wearing a tight fitted black dress that stopped mid thigh, with a slight plunge of a neckline.(or whatever you think the character would be comfortable in.)

If your brothers were to see you right now, it would not be a pretty picture.

You don’t really know what your doing, just waiting, but the thing is that you don’t know exactly what your waiting for.

“Y/n?” Asked a familiar voice behind you.

You turned around to see none other than your brothers closest friend and coworker, Tom Hiddleston, looking like an actual god.

You have always had a little crush on him, but he was your brothers friend and completely off limits.

“Tom. What are you doing here?”

“One of my mates from back home is getting married and decided to have his stag party here in the states. What are you doing here?”

“Oh umm, I don’t really know. If I’m being honest.”

“Well would you like to hang with us?”

“Oh, no I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

“Oh please, your brother would kill me if I left you here alone, and there really is no intrusion. I’d say maybe less than an hour these git’s will be blackout drunk.” He said with a laugh.

You hesitated before smiling and agreeing.

And Tom was right, they all blacked out, but so did both you and Tom.

-Next morning-

You woke up from the sun shining in your eyes, you quickly rolled over to block the sun and to hopefully go back to sleep, when you bumped into something.

You slowly opened your eyes to see someone laying right next to you. You couldn’t tell who it was a first, but then you noticed his hair. Fuck. The hair that belonged to none other than your brothers best friend.

A million thoughts ran through your head before the man beside you woke up. You didn’t know what to do. You couldn’t leave, that would be too awkward. But then if you stayed it would also be awkward. You couldn’t really tell if you were naked or not. The only thing you know for sure is that your really sore.

You slowly started to look under the covers and you were wearing black boxer briefs… and only those… great.

Before you could even attempt to sneak out the man beside you moved and put an arm around you and pulled you close.

You attempted to wiggle out of his arms, but ended up waking him up.

He groaned and opened his eyes. He saw you and those gorgeous blue eyes widened wider than the sea.

“Y-your naked.” He stuttered

“Well not exactly, I think that you are the only one naked here.”

“Naked? What I’m not- Oh my Goodness I’m naked.” He said looking at himself.

“Fuck,. Did we Umm… did we?” He asked nervously

“I think so?”

“You think so? What do you mean you think so?”

“Well I don’t know Tom. It’s not like I come with a detector that tells me every time I’m with someone. And it’s obvious isn’t it, I mean your naked I’m practically naked, and I can barely feel my legs, so that’s what I’m going off of.”

“Oh my goodness. Are you ok? Did I hurt you? Oh please tell me I at least got your consent. Shit, did you need anything? Fuck where are my boxers.” He said quickly trying to get up.

“Tom, calm down it’s ok, trust me, you didn’t hurt me. And Umm, for the boxers, I might be wearing them.”

He stopped looking around and nodded. He picked up his pants off of the floor, and quickly got them on. You looked away for his privacy.

“Umm, I’ll go make breakfast, you can get dressed. I have some shorts and shirts in my closet you can wear. I mean unless you don’t want to, you can leave if that’s what you want.” He said

“Breakfast is fine.” You said. And he smiled at you and quickly left you to get dressed. But you heard him in the hallway and it sounded like he ran into a wall or something because you heard a bang and a string on cuss words following it.

You quickly got dressed in one of toms older looking shirts, and a pair of his running shorts. You quickly looked at yourself in the mirror. Then you gathered your clothes that you could find. You couldn't find your bra.

You collected your things and headed out. On your way out you smelled pancakes your favorite. (If you don't like pancakes you can picture something else.)

You walked into the kitchen and saw Tom pouring coffee while holding a spatula ready to flip the next pancake.

"Do you need any help?" you asked.

"No, its ok I'm almost done, thank you. How do you like your coffee?" he said without turning around.

"(How you like your coffee, or something else here)" you answered.

"Ok coming right up." he turned around with your drink and handed it to you. not taking his eyes off of you.

"Wow, you look very beautiful." he said making you blush

"Thank you." you said while smiling.

You don't know exactly how much time you spent starring into his eyes, all you know is that the pancake on the stove was burning.

After Tom finished the two of you sat at his counter and ate in silence, the only noise was his radio playing orchestra music in the background. It wasn't as awkward as you had expected, it just kind of felt normal.

After you both finished you insisted on doing the dishes since he cooked. He protested at first but then he realized that you weren't backing down.

It only got awkward after you finished. I mean for goodness sake the two of you were friends, You didn't know if he wanted you to leave or if he wanted you to stay. Of course he wanted you to stay, but its not like you knew that.

"Wait, what is todays date?" he asked searching for his phone in a hurry.

You were faster.

"Its the 17th of May." you answered.

He looked up with wide eyes and quickly got up.

"You have to go, right now, I promised your brother that I would meet up with him for lunch today. And he was going to pick me up, Shit." You hurried to get your shoes on While Tom ran in his room to change. He ran out fully dressed and started helping you with your things.

"I am so sorry Y/n I would never have wanted our morning to end like this." he said.

"Its ok." you said.

"I called you a cab when I was getting ready, it should be waiting for you."

"Thank you Tom, for everything."

"Of course darli-' Ding Dong.'

"Shit"

Part 2 coming soon.

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddelston x reader #fem reader #hemsworth!reader #part 2 coming soon #probably more parts too

[babymetaldoll]

Spilling drinks on my settee (Spencer Reid/Reader)

Prompt: Start a story with "Can you keep a secret?"

Pairing: Spencer Reid/Reader 

Word count: 2,8K

Genre: Fluff

Warning: none 

Summary: Spencer is drunk with Morgan, finally sharing his feelings for Reader 

Part two

Masterlist

- “Can you keep a secret?”

Spencer was drunk. He leaned over Derek tapping on his shoulder a few times, making him chuckle at the scene. Dr. Reid was never the one to go out, less going to a bar and have a few too many drinks. Hell no! He could be the designated driver for life, if only he liked to drive. When he joined his BAU friends on their nights out, he would usually stick with a whisky that could last the whole night, or even left untouched at the table after he left. But that night, Spencer Walter Reid was drunk as a skunk. Wasted. And his best friend was the only witness.

- “Ok kid, tell me your secret”

- “I'm in love”- the words came like a slur out of his lips, the ones that curled into a guilty smile- Stupid, crazy, and irrevocably in love.

- “No shit!”- Derek pretended to be surprised, but he would have been a lousy profiler if he had missed the look on his best friend's face in the latest months. He nearly had hearts draw on his eyes, like a cartoon.

- “Yesss”- he made that "s" sound longer than it should have and closed his eyes for a few seconds- “Yes, I am.”

Morgan was still chuckling as he stared at the kid. He was still a kid for him, though he was already 30. He still acted like one, still shy, inexperienced. He had more attitude on his job now, on the field, with the unsubs, his pairs. But in his personal life... well, that was a whole different story.

- “Do you want to know who she is?”- Reid whispered and brought a finger to his lips.

- “But shhhh! you can't tell anyone 'cos it's a secret”- it was getting harder for Morgan to remain serious at that conversation, but he managed to keep his poker face and nodded at his friend.

- “But you can't tell Penelope 'cos she is going to tell the whole FBI! I'm sure!”

- “I won't tell her”

- “When I told her I was afraid of the dark, everybody ended up making fun of me...”

- “I swear I won't, kid”- Derek nodded and reassured his best friend he could trust him. He knew it was hard for Reid to talk about his feelings, that was probably why he had gotten that drunk to share them.

It had been unusual when Spencer walked over to Derek and asked if he wanted to get a drink with him after work. It was weirder when he said he wanted it to be just the two of them instead of the whole team, cos "he had some serious business" he wanted to share with him.

- “I'm in love with (Y/N)”- and yes, Derek was right. Spencer wanted to talk about the obvious.

The whole team knew he was in love with (Y/N). It was crystal clear. It was so obvious even Strauss had joked about it with Rossi once. Yes, Spencer's feelings were so clear and visible, everybody was aware of his love.

Everyone but (Y/N), apparently.

Derek knew ('cos it was a well-established fact that Penelope couldn't keep a secret) that (Y/N) was sure Spencer wasn't interested in her. Garcia had tried to convince her their genius was head over feet for her, but Reid had made an excellent job in looking uninterested in her.

Why? 'cos he was stupid, and it had nothing to do with his high IQ. It was simply 'cos he was scared. Petrified by the idea he could lose her, so he had made sure his actions were nothing but friendly with her. They were best friends ever since they met, over six years ago when they both had started in the BAU, but despite their feelings, none of them had acted on them.

- “No way!”- Derek pretended to be shocked, and Spencer was so drunk he didn't get Morgan's sarcasm. Instead, he nodded and sighed.

- “Yes, I love her... I am in love, I think about her all day long when I'm not with her, and when she is around, I can't stop staring, she is the sun and I orbit around her existence.”

Derek widened his eyes as he listened to the corniest words he had ever heard Spencer pronounce before.

- “And I need help, 'cos I don't know what to do about it”

- “I think you should tell her, kid”- but Spencer shook his head frantically as if his friend had asked him to do the worst thing he could have ever thought.

- “No man, really, you've got a pretty good chance there, and you don't wanna live in the regret of thinking what could have been if you had done anything”

- “No, Morgan, I can't, I can't do that”- Spencer nearly started shaking at his best friend's suggestion. The fact he was being honest about his feelings to his friend was one thing, but sharing those feelings with the woman of his dreams, that wasn't on his plans.

Why? He couldn't find a good reason to do it. As far as he knew, letting (Y/N) know he loved her as no one had ever loved her before, could only mean the end of their friendship. And Spencer could live having (Y/N) only as his friend for the rest of his life, though it would break his heart deeper and deeper every day. But he couldn't live not having her by his side. He knew he couldn't. And he was sure if he revealed his true feelings to her, she was going to leave his side and disappear, end their friendship, and ignore his existence for the rest of his life.

Yes, Spencer was being dramatic, but he was scared. His mind kept telling him as soon as he told her how much he loved her, (Y/N) was going to disappear from his life as fast as everyone he cared for had done before.

- “If you don't want to tell her, then what's your plan, kid?”- Morgan asked the one million dollar question. Spencer just stared at him and took a sip of his whiskey.

- “I don't know”

- “Shit!”- Derek nearly shouted- “That's the first time I ever hear you say such a thing! man!”

- “Shut up! I don't know why I'm telling you this, I knew you were gonna make fun of me”

Spencer rested his head on his arm on the table and closed his eyes.

- “I just thought 'cos you are so smooth with women, maybe you could help me”

- “I can help you, Reid, I can, you just have to be open to the idea of telling her how you feel”

- “How can I tell her? she is gonna hate me”

- “She won't!”- Morgan tapped on his friend's back again and tried to calm him down.

- “How do you know?! You have never been rejected by any woman ever since I met you!”- but it didn't work, mostly because there was nothing on earth that could calm Spencer down at that point.

- “I know she likes you”

- “Sure, right!”- Reid snorted and finished what was left in his glass- “I need another one.”

- “You need to slow down, maybe get some water and fresh air”- Morgan stopped him when he tried to get to the bar and pulled him back to his seat

- “No, no no, you don't get it, Morgan, she went on a date with some random guy from a dating website...”

And Morgan realized where his friend's fears were coming from.

- “She is looking for someone, and clearly that someone ain't me!”

- “Maybe she is looking for someone to stop thinking about you”- Spencer furrowed his brows at Derek's words and stared at his hands on the table for a moment.

- “Come on man! you have to give yourself some credit! you are smart, you are funny, she is always laughing when she is around you”

- “At me! laughing at me! everybody laughs at me!”- for someone so smart, Dr. Reid was acting like an ass.

- “With you! be real, she is the girl who laughs at your jokes, listens to your rambling for hours, and actually pays attention to what you say”- Reid nodded, thinking of the sound of her laughter- “And you two spend most of your weekends off together!”

- “Clearly, she doesn't want to do that anymore, if she is looking for guys on dating apps”- Reid sounded bitter and hurt, two things he had never been very good at dealing with.

- “Why don't you ask her?”- Derek knew what Spencer was going to answer at that, the same he had said when he told him to be honest with her about his feelings: "No way". But instead, he only got a deep silence back.

- “Reid?”

- “You know what? I'm gonna ask her”- he whispered and nodded at himself- “I wanna ask her if she doesn't want to spend time with me anymore”

Morgan widened his eyes in shock.

- “And I'm gonna ask her now!”

- “Wait, kid”- but this time, he couldn't stop him, Reid grabbed his sachet, his jacket and stormed out of the bar, stumbling against a few people on his way out, 'cos he was too drunk to walk straight.

- “Kid! come one, wait!”

Derek followed him as fast as he could and grabbed his arm as he walked to her house. (Y/N) lived a few blocks from the bar, Reid didn't need a cab to get there, and he decided to face her and ask her why she didn't want to spend time with him anymore.

Of course, that wasn't the reason (Y/N) had gone out on that date. She actually wanted to spend all of her free time with him, but Prentiss had her forced to go out after hearing she hadn't been out in at least two years. Two years without a date. Two years actually without sex. Emily nearly died at the news, she couldn't believe anyone could live like that, and so, she forced her friend out with some random guy from a website.

- “There's no way you are spending another Friday night on your own! you need to have fun!”

- “I'm not gonna spend Friday night on my own! Friday nights are board game nights with Reid”- Prentiss frowned and crossed her arms on her chest staring at (Y/N) pouting.

- “Whatever it is you are thinking, please don't say it”

- “Boardgames with Reid, please tell me that means he is fucking your brains off on his dining table on top of a monopoly board”- (Y/N) wished her friend was right, but no.

- “Actually... no, it's Jenga night”

- “You are so going out this weekend!”

And she did, not Friday night, but Saturday afternoon. And it had been one of the worst dates (Y/N) had ever been on. Just like she had said that day back in the office, the guy was cute but dumb. On his behalf, she was in love with Spencer Walter Reid, any guy on earth was going to look dumb compared to him. But to be honest, he wasn't really bright either. And (Y/N) wasn't into him at all. They had a coffee, went to see a movie, and called it the night.

Spencer had no idea about that date, she never wanted to tell him 'cos it meant nothing to her. But after hearing the story of the date earlier that day, Spencer was a mess. He didn't know what to think, and that was the reason he was out there, drunk, asking Derek for advice.

He had tried to avoid her for the rest of the afternoon, he was upset, and he knew he was going to be passive-aggressive if they shared any word - he couldn't help it even when he knew he didn't have to act that way- and so, he didn't look from his paperwork until it was time to leave.

It was a good thing they were swamped with work, and (Y/N) didn't notice her best friend was giving him the cold shoulder from a safe distance.

- “Reid, Reid, wait!”- Morgan grabbed his best friend's arm and stopped him in his tracks- “What are you doing? you can't talk to her like this!”

- “I want to know! I deserve to know!”

- “Kid, you are drunk, you are not thinking straight”

- “Or am I?”- Spencer was slurring and his eyes were half-closed. Still, he knew what he was doing. He was making a mistake on purpose 'cos at that point, he was desperate.

- “Come on man, you are not thinking this, (Y/N) never said she is going out 'cos she doesn't want to spend her time you with you, those are your insecurities talking”

- “If she didn't do it because of that, then why?”- but Morgan couldn't answer, not because he didn't know the answer, but because Reid's retchings forced him to help him and pull his scarf and sachet back as he started puking in the middle of the sidewalk.

- “I think I'm gonna take you home now, kid”

Spencer felt like shit. He wasn't only drunk, but also miserable. He hated getting intoxicated like his, but he had no idea what else to do. He was lost and scared and wretched. He thought talking with Derek was gonna help, but he didn't know what to expect from his friend anyway, the only advice he got from Morgan was sharing his feelings with (Y/N), but... Reid knew he wasn't doing that, not in this life. Not if it meant he could lose her.

- “What the hell is going on here?”- (Y/N)'s voice felt like cold water running down Spencer's spine. He paused his puking for a second to look at her, and kind of smiled.

- “Oh! hey Buttercup!”- and that was all he could say before he continued vomiting.

- “Derek?”- the woman was shocked, had Spencer just called her by a cute nickname? she had always done it with him, he was her honey bunny, but he had never done it before... and she loved it- “What the fuck?”

- “Hey pretty girl!”- Morgan did his best to play it cool, though he was also freaking out. He knew (Y/N) wasn't going to be happy to know he let Spencer get that drunk. He was aware it wasn't his fault (not completely), but he also knew she was going to blame him anyway.

- “Why is Spencer drunk and puking on the front steps of my building?”

- “There's a very logical explanation for this”- Derek tried to elaborate on that idea, but nothing came to his head.

- “We had a few drinks”- Reid whispered and sighed, after everything he had eaten and drank had left his stomach.

- “Did you know alcohol is essentially a toxin, and so it can easily upset your stomach and cause you to vomit, particularly if you consume too much?”

Of course, being drunk didn't stop Spencer from being himself. After all, he didn't know how to be anybody else.

- “And now I'm taking him home”- Derek wrapped an arm around his friend's shoulder and looked around, trying to find a cab.

- “But what are you guys doing here?”- (Y/N) wasn't getting what was going on, and she was honestly concerned Spencer was intoxicated. She knew he lived alone, no one was going to take care of him.

- “Honey, do you wanna come inside?”

- “Yes, yes, I do”- Reid didn't hesitate- “We should go inside”

- “No, you are drunk, you are going to your house”- Derek didn't let Spencer move, knowing he was too drunk to have a coherent conversation with (Y/N), and making his best to prevent him from making a huge mistake. 

Morgan knew she was in love with him, but he didn't want him to talk to her under the influence, he knew it was something Spencer was going to regret in the morning.

- “Are you sure you don't wanna let him stay here?”- the girl asked and bit her lip, worried- “He can stay on my couch...”

- “He's gonna be ok, I'll take care of him”- Morgan smiled at (Y/N) and nodded- “It's my fault he is like this, I'm not gonna let you clean this mess.”

Her lips curled into a short smile. She looked at her best friend wasted, puke on his pants and shoes. His hair was a mess - a mess she wanted to run her fingers through, even when he was intoxicated - and his brow eyes were glassy. Even drunk he was gorgeous.

- “I'll call you tomorrow, ok?”- she whispered and Spencer nodded- “And I'll see you at work... I'll bring aspirins and coffee”- he kept nodding, feeling sick at the stomach again.

Derek stopped a cab and helped Reid in as (Y/N) stood at the sidewalk staring at her friends leaving.

- “What the fuck just happened?”

- “You owe me, kid”- Reid heard those words as he hugged his pillow and closed his eyes. He was on his bed, still fully dressed. He had only managed to take out his satchel and his shoes.

- “I wanted to stay over”- he murmured, making Morgan chuckle. The kid was acting like one.

- “Believe me, you'll thank me in the morning”

#spencer reid #matthew gray gubler #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #matthew gray gubler fanfic #matthew gray gubler fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid drunk #dr spencer reid #i love him so much it hurts #babymetaldoll writes

[joontier]

Subliminal in Scrubs | V1;  report ix

pairings: dr. jeon jungkook x female reader

chapter rating: NC-17 | genre: doctors! au; humor, romance 

warnings: swearing

word count: 1.8k

g/n: ((unedited skfslkdf)) also,,, i will be releasing Parallel Palpitations very soon [which features this Jimin hehehehe stay tuned for that] PLUS, im very excited to release the report x AHHHHHH send me your thoughts pleaseee 

[taglist]:  @nottodayjjk @ditttiii @zeharilisharaban @btsbunny07​ @turquoiseandplaidinautumn @aamxxrii @codeinebelle​ @btsmakesmehappy​

Subliminal in Scrubs (the records) |  navi. | m.list

You open your new group chat first thing in the morning, wanting to check on Soomin and Jimin. Just yesterday, the two had informed you of their concerns separately, both worried over the same thing. Soomin’s mother wanted to hold a small congratulatory celebration for her daughter’s KMLE results, and her subsequent acceptance at Woocheon, so there was going to be a party exclusively for all tenants of the building at the restaurant just next to the cafe. 

The two hadn’t worked out their budding acquaintance, as you had practically forced them to greet each other the last time you were at the cafe, so you thought this might be a great way to have them start over their tricky relationship. 

As you’ve expected, both of them had even tried to convince you to come, in the hopes that a mutual friend could help diminish the awkward air around them. You’ve declined each of them politely, not wanting to intrude on their little get-together. Besides, (just like you hadn’t forgotten to mention to them), this was the perfect opportunity to get rid of this wall hindering their friendship (to which, both of them had also quite strongly disagreed upon). 

A mere three hours after their outpour of sentiments, as you’re rewatching episodes of Dr. Romantic with Chohee, the pair drunkenly call you, requesting a video chat. You’re pretty sure not one of them is aware of what’s happening, especially with Jimin refilling his shot glass every thirty seconds; Soomin speaking gibberish, and Chohee literally teasing them through the screen of your laptop and yet none of them seem to mind a damn thing about it. 

So, with hopes that each of them arrived home safely last night, you type in your text message. 

‘What is this place, really?’ you mutter to yourself, slightly regretting your decision to take the subway instead of a cab. You only ride taxis for places you’re not familiar with (such is the case with today) but you didn’t want to spend twice as much solely for transportation so you took the train to the building. 

Now you feel lost. You’ve just gone to the main entrance of the building, but there was scaffolding barring the entrance, and now you’re struggling to look for Entrance B with the singular tarpaulin saying “Please use Entrance B” and a faded arrow below pointing to the left. After a grueling ten minutes of asking people for directions and walking all over the place, you finally find Entrance B and hurry on your way inside. 

There’s already a small crowd forming where the directions for the processing of your license is posted, and you can’t seemingly read the directions all the way down with people clearly taller than you blocking the way. 

“What’s the matter? Can’t see the directions, smally?” 

Your instant recognition of his voice makes you hang your head low. You figure there’s no way you can get rid of this guy anytime soon. 

“Hello, Jungkook.” 

Why is it that he’s always there wherever you are? He couldn’t be stalking me, could he? 

Jungkook almost spits his water on the girl in front of him. Oh, so he heard your thoughts then. “Yeah, you wish, woman. I wouldn’t do that even if you had one million strapped to your neck.” You roll your eyes at him. 

“Wasn’t asking for any conditions for you to do that, but thanks for letting me know your thoughts.” 

“Awh, you mad, babe?” Shaking your head at him, you try to continue peering over everyone’s shoulder to check the post. “If it makes you feel any better, I would for two million though.” 

You were just about to retaliate with a smart comment, but you see a girl walking towards Jungkook while twirling her hair with her newly manicured fingers. “Jungkook-oppa, you’re here!” she says, hooking her arm on his elbow. 

Ah yes, it’s the same brat that kept defending Jungkook’s ass during the KMLE exam. “Why don’t you come with us? My mom works here,” her voice gets down to a whisper, but loud enough for you to hear. “If you come with us, you wouldn’t have to fall in line, then maybe we could have lunch together. 

Jungkook removes her hand from his, “No thank you, I’ll just wait here.” 

“With her?”

The audacity of this bitch. 

“Yes, with her.” Jungkook says, not skipping a beat. “She’s...better company.” Oof, that’s gotta hurt. 

You try not to show much of your currently soaring pride on your face, but you can’t help but clear your throat as a terrible disguise for a snort. The girl becomes silent after that, with most of her friends trying to control their facial expressions after Jungkook’s reply. 

“Fine then, your loss,” she says with a flip of her hair, then makes her exit. 

You're unsure what to do now as the girl has already left, and you’re also not sure if you’re entirely happy about being left with Jungkook now. “Why didn’t you go with her? Could’ve saved you a lot of time considering the people here.” 

Jungkook clenches his jaw, as if in thought. “I don’t like cheating. I believe that there’s a different value in the reward that comes with something you worked hard for.” 

You’re surprised. You really hadn’t expected this kind of quote, coming out of Jungkook out of all people, but you find yourself nodding as he speaks, quite impressed that you share the same principles. 

As the crowd starts to disperse, you and Jungkook finally get your turns to take a look at the poster. “Is it often?” 

“What is?” 

You point a thumb backwards towards where the girl had gone to, “Having girls throw themselves at you all the time?” 

“Oh that,” Jungkook chuckles, then gives you a lopsided smirk, “Yeah, that. Hadn’t realized being this hot was so tiring.” Squinting your eyes at him, it then again dawns on you that you shouldn’t even have asked him that sort of question at all. 

“You know,” he says, nudging your shoulder with his, “I’m quite jealous of you really,” your brows crease together. This can’t be good. “At least you don’t experience all of that, cause you know…” he says, gesticulating his hands over his face. 

He did not just insinuate that you were not...attractive at all. Huh. This bastard can wait for his license alone then. 

“Goodbye, Jungkook.” 

“Hang on! ________, wait! I was just messing with you,” Jungkook laughs, running after you.

The cashier is already scanning the last items on your grocery list by the time Jimin and Soomin had texted you that they were done with their licenses, and you three had agreed on meeting up by the mall’s concierge. It doesn’t take long before you all decide on having Italian for dinner, after seeing the restaurant nearest to where the concierge was. 

“Wait, it took you guys only half an hour?” you exclaim, recalling how you had to endure at least more than an hour with Jungkook as you waited for your licenses to finish. Thankfully though, the latter had other errands to run so you two parted ways as soon as you got your IDs. 

Jimin, always the gentleman, offers to get your group the utensils as well as a few condiments and spices you might need with your meals. “Soomin-ssi, do you know anybody else who’s going to Woocheon too?” he says, setting the silverware atop the napkins. 

Soomin thanks Jimin for the thoughtful gesture, sending a small smile his way. You squeal inwardly, wanting to know what happened last night for them to interact like this. “Um, also, I’m not so sure about the others who will be attending Woocheon too...I only got a glimpse of the list, sorry.” 

“Ah, no worries about that. So, how was the dinner party last night?” 

The two glance at each other, seemingly communicating with their eyes. Oookay, what’s going on between these two? What exactly happened last night? If they wanted to be alone, they could’ve just said so… 

“It was fun,” Jimin initiates, plastering  what seems to be a painfully wide grin on his face. Soomin nods along with him as she adds more, “Honestly, I don’t remember much about last night, but I do recall Jimin calling me ‘sajangnim’ the whole night. And I told him to not call me that, but Jimin here is a stubborn man.” 

“Yeah, you complained about that too last night,” you laugh, cutting your garlic bread into pieces. “Wait, what?” Jimin squints his eyes at you, “Were you there last night? How did you....” 

“I’m guessing you both don’t remember calling me last night too, didn’t you?” 

“We did?!” they say in unison, making your eyes go wide. “Did I do something stupid?” “Please tell me I didn’t say something I shouldn’t have?” 

“Hmm, well, it was quite the conversation last night,” you tease them, wanting to see how far this can go, “plus Chohee was there too so I have another key witness.” 

“What?” Jimin squeaks, lips pressing into a thin line, “what’s the key witness for?” 

“That, my friend, is up to you to remember and figure out.” You give each of them a wink, before turning your attention back to your pasta.  

Transferring all your groceries to one hand, you fish your keys from your purse, shaking it lightly to hear its jingle as you blindly course your fingers through your bag. As the elevator doors open, you see your neighbor down the end of the hall, trailing after a man. 

Ayoung hears the elevator bell ding and turns to your direction. She excitedly points her thumb to her back, mouthing ‘new tenant’ to you. She keys in her code and lets the guy in first. The moment he’s inside, she leans by the doorframe and whispers how hot the guy actually was and how much of a lucky neighbor you were going to be. 

You shake your head at her, leaving Ayoung to entertain her guest. Of course, not forgetting to pray that she manages to score you a hot man next door.

© joontier 2021

#jungkook x reader #btswritingcafe #bangtanarmynet #btsghostie #jeon jungkook #bts aus #bts fic #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook fluff

[msmarvelouswinchester]

Irresistibly Yours

Chapter 2 - Noise Complaint

Summary - Y/N Y/L/N moves to NYC in hopes for a fresh start after a nasty breakup. There she meets her neighbor, the cynical lawyer, Dean Winchester. A love-hate relationship starts evolving between them ever since they met in the elevator one morning but a desperate situation and a string of lies forces the two friendly rivals to go on a date or rather a fake date. Will sparks fly between them when Dean gets to know Y/N real and up close? Will Y/N finally find her Prince Charming in the grumpy, workaholic, divorce lawyer?

Pairing - Lawyer!Dean Winchester x Y/N

Warning - None expect meanie Dean (Suspicious, isn’t it?)

WC - 2154

Square Filled - Don't put me in this position ( @anyfandomgoesbingo​ )

A/N - I promise the next chapter will have more of Dean and more conflict! This is just the beginning of a very long ride. Enjoy!

Beta’d by @miss-nerd95​

Dividers by @firefly-graphics​

Series Masterlist               Masterlist 

The silence in the cab on her way back to her apartment gave her the quality time she needed to think. In a few weeks, Meg was getting married and now, since they knew, Y/N had to show up with her 'boyfriend’. She racked her brain, scrambling to come up with a good excuse because it was all a big lie.

Every time, however, she reached two conclusions - either make a fool of herself and admit that she lied or tell everyone that she broke up and be the one person at the wedding that everyone looks down on with pitiful eyes.

There was a third option, which was risque as hell too, cause Y/N barely knew the man and their first meeting did not go so well, but there was definitely something about him that made her blush every time she thought of him.The way he carried himself and the dominating vibes he gave off, sent shivers down her spine. Maybe he wasn't a morning person and she did start blabbering in the elevator the minute she stepped in. She swallowed hard when she remembered the way her name rolled off his tongue. ‘How did he know?’ She wondered.

As Y/N boarded the elevator, she thought about how, she wanted nothing more than to see a certain green-eyed man again. She had been residing in this complex for almost three months but she had never seen the man before. Maybe he was new here, in this apartment building, who knew? Mind plagued by millions of thoughts, Y/N trudged down the empty hallway to her cosy little home.

“Who invented these fucking heels?” She grumbled as she freed her feet out of the painful, yet pretty high heels when she reached the comfort of her own home. Shrugging her coat off, she relaxed as her ass hit the soft mattress of the couch.

“I need a date in seven weeks.” She said, making a mental note of the wedding date. This was the only wedding she ever looked forward to attending where she knew she wouldn't have to face the constant stream of questions involving her dating life and a particular man. All she ever wanted was to be with her close friend on the best day of her life.

“First dress fitting - tomorrow at 10.” Her phone lit up with an incoming text and groaning, she dropped her head backwards. Y/N couldn't even skip the wedding if she wanted to. She was one of the bridesmaids and it wouldn't be fair to both Meg and Cas, if she didn't attend it. A smile graced her frowning face when she remembered the time Cas proposed to her friend on Valentine's Day. Cliche- Y/N would say, but deep down, she knew she just wanted what Cas and Meg had.

A sigh left her lips as she got up, still in her work clothes. She put on some light music as she went into the bathroom to freshen up. After the long, tiring day she had, a warm bath and a Ryan Gosling movie were very much needed. Quickly stripping off, she stepped into the tub. She leaned her head backwards, closing her eyes, as the warm water soothed her aching body and her troubled mind.

“Romeo, take me somewhere we can be alone,” Y/N sang along the song, slightly off tune but she didn't care, as she stepped out of the bathroom after some time. She let go of the towel wrapped around her body and stepped into a pair of comfortable pjs. Getting a box cold pizza out from her refrigerator, she turned up the volume of the music playing in her apartment.

“He knelt to the ground and pulled out a ring, and said,” Y/N yelled out the chorus when she started to heat up the pizza. Her private singing session, however, was cut short by a sudden knock on the door. She grudgingly pressed pause as she walked up to the door to find out the unwanted visitor.

“Excuse me- Ms L/N?” As soon as she opened the door, she was met by a very familiar, deep baritone that had been haunting her.

“Dean Winchester. And please, call me Y/N,” she breathed out. The formality in Dean’s voice made her cringe. Her eyes fell as she took in the man in front.

Dean had gotten rid of the dapper grey suit and slipped into a much laid back look. A black polo t-shirt fitted over his body and plain blue jeans hugging his bowlegs perfectly. The look on his face mirrored the one from the morning and Y/N wondered if he would look better with a smile on. Her train of thoughts were again rudely interrupted by the man speaking.

“I assume you're having somewhat of a casual evening,” Dean said, his hands waving to point at her pjs, making her suddenly self-conscious of her clothing state.

“Y-yeah. How may I help you?” She asked, genuinely curious.

“See, I moved in the apartment right beside you a few days ago, and I think you might have noticed sometime or the other that there are other people living in this building as well,” Dean said, his face not imparting any sort of emotions, “You might be having a casual evening but I can assure you that there's at least one person who is certainly not. Turn the music level down.”

Y/N’s mouth fell open at Dean’s words but she wasn't going to turn down the volume just because a man turned up at her door, asking her to do so. His words were sharp, but his tone was downright rude, and it was definitely not because he wasn't a morning person. The least he could have done was ask her nicely.

“Well, listen here pal, no one's having a problem, other than you. So you can go back to your room, put on some earplugs and do whatever the heck you were doing before you decided to make my day more awful,” Y/N said, taking a threatening stance with hands on her hips, a deep frown on her face.

“I'll file a noise complaint report against you.” Dean warned with his pointer finger right in front of her eyes.

“It's just music. Learn to appreciate the little things in life.” She said while rolling her eyes.

“I'm a very busy man and I got work to do, alright? And speaking about music, play something actually good like Zeppelin and people will personally come up to thank you. This song is not even a classic.” Dean spat back.

“Believe me or not, everyone is a Swiftie at heart.” She smirked with a sarcastic shrug. Dean’s lips twitched in anger as his face grew more rigid before he said, “If you don't lower the volume, expect a noise complaint report delivered with your newspaper tomorrow.” He walked away before Y/N had a chance to even think of a comeback.

Glancing over his shoulder, Dean went inside his own apartment room right beside Y/N’s. She glared at the empty hallway before swinging her door shut and walked back to her room towards her amazon echo, turning the music down anyway. She couldn't risk getting a report filed against her, and the man appeared to be dead serious about what he threatened to do.

“Stupid Dean Winchester.” She grumbled.

Squinting at the clock, Y/N woke up the next morning to loud bangs on her door. 7:30 am, it read. Removing the covers, she immediately shivered when the cool air hit her bare legs.

Hair still a mess, she grabbed her robe from the nearby chair, putting it on along with her slippers before she warily made her way to the door. “Dean will be complaining now for sure.” She grumbled as she unlocked her door to reveal her friend standing on the other side in a dishevelled state, eyes red like a mad woman.

“Meg?” Her face scrunched up in confusion as the said woman shoved past her into her apartment. “You’re wearing your shirt inside out.” Y/N closed the door behind her as Meg took a seat on the couch.

“Can I have some water?” Y/N dumbfoundedly nodded at her friend’s request and went to her kitchen to retrieve a glassful. Handing the glass over to her, she sat down next to the brunette who gulped down the entire glass of water in one go. Setting the utensil down on the wooden coffee table in front, she turned towards Y/N with slightly glossy eyes as she spoke, “I don’t want to go and finalise the dresses.”

Her words elicited a laugh from Y/N before she said, “Okay, bridezilla, we can reschedule it. Cas should better watch out!” She chuckled out the last words.

“No, y-you don’t understand!” Meg grabbed her friend’s hands, surprising the latter, “I don’t want to try the dress on at all.” Y/N was utterly surprised over her friend's outburst.

“Honey, you have a wedding in less than two months.” Y/N cooed as a few drops of tears rolled down the bride-to-be’s cheeks. “Meg, talk to me. Did something happen between you two?”

The woman shook her head, letting the other lady in the room know that she didn't have to kick Cas’ ass to her relief, but it confused her even further. Since their engagement five months ago, Meg had been over the moon and had started planning every minute detail with high precision and finesse for her big day.

“What if I'm making a huge mistake?”

“Don’t put me in this position. You know how I am when it comes to-”

“But I need to know, and I trust you.”

Y/N pressed her lips into a thin line before she said, “Cas is the best thing that has ever happened to you-”

“You barely even knew me when I started to go out with him. We have only been together for fifteen months - five of which I have spent being engaged to him. What if I regret this later?” Meg's words were correct. Y/N used to barely talk to her when she had started dating Cas, but all through those eighteen months, as she slowly got to know the pair well enough, she knew that they were clearly meant to be in it for the long haul.

“But I have never seen you regret your decision to be with Cas even once… so why start now?.” Y/N politely answered, her hands letting go of her distraught friend's iron-clad grasp and reaching out to soothe her.

“Sometimes even if you have been with your man for what feels like forever, marrying him might seem to be the worst decision you can ever make, but it doesn't matter how long you have been with him. When you know, you know. Follow your heart.” Meg looked up at her as she mulled her words over before speaking.

“I love him.” She said.

“Then go, be with him.” Y/N smiled. Crisis averted.

A smile started to appear on Meg’s tear stained face as her eyes twinkled with a suggestive glimmer in them. Fiddling with her sparkling ring, she said, “Dean’s good for you. Don't let him go.”

Y/N was taken aback by her friend's supposition. She sat up straight in her seat as heat crept up her neck. Her mind was stuck in a turmoil as she tried to come up with an appropriate response.

“He’s not-Dean is not-” She stuttered, the words got stuck in her throat when she tried to think of a decent excuse. Maybe, this was the universe giving her a chance to take back everything she had said before, but the disheartened look on her friend’s face made her rethink her decision. After all, a little white lie never hurt anybody. “Yeah, he is a good man.” Meg smiled as Y/N played her into the deception game once again.

“Will he be at the wedding?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“What are you waiting for? Unless he is a figment of your imagination, ask him! I want to meet this certain Dean Winchester.” Meg giggled.

“I don’t have such vivid imaginations, Meg.” Y/N let out a nervous chuckle. She was now being given an ample amount of opportunities to tell the truth, then why was it so hard for her to deny everything she had said? Maybe she liked living in this utopian world where for once, no one deemed her as the broken, pathetic girl who failed to make a man stay. Maybe deep down, she wanted this damn lie to be true.

“I’ll ask him but you do know how men are about weddings.” She replied, having no knowledge of how to keep her end of the promise.

Chapter 3

Feedback is highly appreciated

If you want to be tagged in the series, lemme know!

#dean winchester #dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #dean x you #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x y/n #dean x y/n #au dean x reader #au dean winchester x reader #dean fanfics #dean fanfiction #spn fanfic #irresistibly yours

[ncssian]

A Favor: Part Six

Nessian Modern AU

Masterlist

a/n: nsfw sort of?? barely

***

Cassian is going to kill Nesta.

He’s never met a woman so stubborn that she would rather throw herself under a bus than accept help from others.

“What happened to your rants about universal healthcare and redistributing wealth?” He gestures furiously between the two of them while keeping one hand on the steering wheel. “I’m trying to redistribute the wealth!”

She scoffs from the passenger seat. “Nice try, comrade. I’m not letting you dangle your wallet over me while I live with you for free. It’s disgusting and manipulative.”

Cassian wants to grab her by the shoulders and shake her. “Why do you automatically assume I’m trying to manipulate you?” he says incredulously.

“You don’t get to pay for my things,” she snaps. “They’re mine.”

“I know you’re already broke from that MRI—”

“That’s none of your business.”

They pull up to one of the university buildings. “Oh, great argument.” Cassian brings the truck to a stop. “Are you gonna use that one in court?”

Nesta buttons her blue blazer and furiously grabs her things, not saying a word.

“What are you thinking now?” Cassian pokes, the hardness dissolved from his voice a little.

She shoves the passenger door open. “How much longer it’s going to take to get my car fucking fixed,” she bites, hopping out of the truck and slamming the door shut on Cassian’s face.

Clenching his jaw, he watches her walk sharply for the building, tension ratcheting her figure. Impossible woman.

She does look damn good in a pantsuit, though.

***

Nesta has to take deep breaths before she enters the mock courtroom, refusing to let Cassian get to her head right now.

It's not his offering to pay for her endometriosis treatment that pisses her off, but it's that he won't take no for an answer. She wishes he could just let her dig herself into a hole of debt and despair like millions of Americans already do every day. She wishes he wouldn't demand an explanation from her every time she screams and cries about getting her way.

Later. Her mind clears through an imaginary filter. You’ll deal with him later.

Now, she has a case to win.

Nesta strides into the courtroom with her file of documents and takes the speaker’s bench, her opponent already seated on the other side of the aisle. Emerie Nikolis is five feet nine inches of Mediterranean goddess, and the only student at Prythian Law who’s been able to challenge Nesta for her spot at the top of the class. Not that she’s succeeded.

Nesta’s never been up against another woman for a moot court, though, and it adds a buzz to her nerves. Men always come into the courtroom with too much confidence and not enough research, and from there Nesta can steadily dismantle their arguments until they’re left spluttering. From Emerie’s cutting hawk eyes, Nesta knows she doesn’t function like that.

As student judges file in and head for their seats, Nesta leans over and mutters to Emerie, “Good luck defending the side that represents everything morally corrupt with this country.”

Emerie brushes back her ponytail and smiles mockingly at Nesta. “You mean the side that powerful white men have chosen since the beginning of time? I won’t need luck.”

Nesta scowls at the panel of student judges. They are all white men.

“You’re lucky I enjoy a challenge,” she hisses, and sits back in her seat as they start calling oyez.

***

Cassian doesn’t mean to fall asleep.

He’s cleaning up around the house while Nesta is gone, and ends up finding a worn paperback trapped between the leather cushions of the couch. Pulling it out, he takes one look at the cover and nearly chokes. A half-undressed man graces the cover in regency-era clothes, his flowy shirt unbuttoned to reveal toned abs. A woman with golden curls clutches onto him passionately, only dressed in a corset and underskirt.

A slow smirk spreads over his face and he snickers. He didn't know people read these anymore. A glance at the back of the book proves his point: published in 1999, a true vintage piece.

Plopping onto the couch and laying back, he opens the paperback. If Nesta doesn't want him reading her books, she shouldn't leave them lying around the place.

Flipping to a random page, he frowns when it isn't a smut scene. Boring. He keeps flipping until he finds one, and props his feet onto the armrest to get comfortable. Now what exactly does Nesta Archeron get off to?

Over an hour and a hundred pages of surprisingly tender romance later, his aching eyes finally slip closed. The open book falls onto his face, and the scent of faded ink follows him into sleep.

Cassian is in a dim candle-lit room. Foiled wallpaper and overstuffed furniture decorates the space, and there, by the small window, she waits.

She turns her head to speak over her shoulder, “You came.”

“I did.” The line comes to him naturally.

Without turning around, her hands reach up for her hair. She starts removing pins from her updo, golden curls falling apart one by one. Once the last pin drops, she finally turns around.

Gleaming locks now frame her soft face and shoulders; her pale breasts rise and fall above the low curve of her thin nightgown. Under the candlelight, she looks freshly forged and porcelain-like at the same time.

“Could you help me?” Nesta says.

Cassian is stuck in his spot, unable to move. He's never seen Nesta like this: so heavenly, but so different.

“Cassian?” she asks again.

“Oh,” he stutters, “um— what do you need?”

She steps closer. “You.” His breathing stops. Nesta slips her slender hands up his arms, to his shoulders. She's holding him close. “I need you to tell me something.”

“Anything.”

Her breath fans over his face. “Do you want me?”

Cassian is very still.

“Do you want me like I want you, Cassian?” she repeats, pressing closer to him. He can feel her nipples through the wispy fabric of her gown.

“Yes,” he breathes shakily. He doesn't know which hurts more: wanting Nesta or being wanted by her.

“Have you been very lonely, Cassian?” She drags her hands back down his arms, finding his hands and placing them on her shoulders. “Is that why you like having me around so much, because you’ve been lonely?”

This Nesta knows him… a little too well. His breath hitches as his hands, directed by Nesta’s hands, slowly pushes down the sleeves of her nightgown. In a flash, the fabric has dropped to her waist, baring her unblemished chest and stomach. Before Cassian can even absorb what's happening, her arms are winding around his neck again, and now she's pressing entreating kisses into the crook of his neck.

“Tell me,” she mutters onto his skin. “Do I make you feel heard, or am I just a pretty face to you?”

“Nes—Nesta.” Cassian tries to swallow air.

She smells so good. She feels so good, and she's not even doing anything to him, just holding him.

“Heard,” he gasps when she goes for the buttons of his shirt, her mouth finding his chest. “You make me feel heard. I like it when we talk and you listen to me. Nobody listens to me.”

She pulls away from him, mouth shining. He just now realizes how jarring the gilded ringlets of her hair are.

“That’s so good,” Nesta purrs, reaching up to clasp his face. Her hands feel thin and rough, like paper. “You’re so good.” She reaches in, her lips chasing his, and—

Awareness seeps into the corners of Cassian’s reality, and his eyes peel open. He blinks between two different worlds until he finally realizes— it was a dream.

Of course it was a dream. Nesta doesn't have blonde hair or curls. And her skin isn't porcelain smooth, but dotted with freckles and moles. And yet, the arousal stirred in him is very much real, evident by the ache in his dick. Fuck.

A throat clears softly and Cassian jumps. The romance book is still on his face, he notices, and his world is darkened by the rough pages. Batting it away, confused, he fully awakens when he sees who’s in front of him.

She’s still in her pantsuit from this morning, but her hair is undone and her cheeks carry a rare flush. Her clothes are rumpled.

“Nesta.” He scrambles upright, painfully aware that he was just dreaming about her half-naked. He carefully arranges his elbows on his knees, his hands dangling between his legs. “You’re back,” he says casually. Taking notice of the blackness outside the windows, he becomes concerned. “You’ve been out this whole time? Oh God, I was supposed to pick you up—”

“No, no,” she says quickly. “Didn’t you see my texts? I went out with some people from moot court.”

Cassian widens his eyes. He’s never heard her mention any friends from school, much less leave the cabin to hang out with other people.

“I totally kicked this girl’s ass in the Title IX case I was telling you about,” Nesta goes on, “and she wanted to take me out for afternoon drinks, and some other guys ended up tagging along too…” She twists a piece of hair around her finger, the experience sounding as brand new to her as Cassian suspects it is. “And yeah, then she got me a cab.”

He raises a brow and leans back. “You willingly let someone else pay for you? Wow, you really are drunk.”

The smile blossoming on her mouth drops and the cold veneer returns. “So you go through my stuff while I’m gone?” she scolds. “How many times are we going to have the boundaries conversation?”

Cassian picks up the paperback still on the couch. “Oh, this? This was just a little light reading. You know, since I share my Netflix and Prime with you, I figured you could share your period-piece smut with me.” He fans through the pages, trying to find the spot he left off on. “I didn’t even know people read physical romance books anymore. That’s like me keeping VHS tapes of porn instead of using my phone.”

Nesta stomps over and snatches the book out of his hands. “It’s not like I enjoy owning books with ugly covers,” she hisses. “I get headaches reading e-books. And this is a classic.” She carefully wipes at the cover as if Cassian got dirt all over it.

Cassian tries to snatch it back. “I wasn’t done with it,” he grits. “Nesta, give it back.”

“I’m glad we brought up boundaries,” she says instead. “Because we need to talk about this morning.” Shoving the book into her pants waistband, she peels off her blazer and takes a seat on the coffee table in front of Cassian.

Cassian blinks, gripped by the authority in her movements. Nesta pokes a finger at his chest. “What you said bothered me all day. Nearly ruined my night. So I’m telling you now, I’m not taking your money for anything, ever. And if you bring up the topic again, I’m moving out.” She sounds dead serious.

He’s not afraid of her. “I’m bringing up the topic now,” he pushes back, his tone hard. “As someone who considers you a friend, I don’t like to see my friends struggling.”

Nesta blinks, and maybe finally accepts that she can’t fight her way out of this, because she drops her finger. “I can’t be financially dependent on a man, Cassian,” she admits, refusing to look away from him. “I’ve done it before, and it’s no way to live life. I don’t care how nice you are; I’m not taking your money. And you can’t make me.” She doesn’t shout or hiss that last part. It’s said with a quiet strength, and it makes Cassian want to concede everything. If this is about her ex-boyfriend, then he doesn’t want to be anything like him.

But it doesn’t change the fact that her health is still on the line. “What if you don’t take my money?” he says quickly. “What if I make you work for it?”

Law school doesn’t allow for part-time jobs on the side, and Nesta’s been scraping by with scholarships and leftover money from her father’s will. The suffering is worth it now, she told Cassian once, if she’s at a law firm the year after next with a starting salary of 100K.

Nesta purses her lips, skeptical. “What kind of work?”

“You can be a legal consultant for Night Court.”

“Do I look qualified to be a legal consultant?” She’s glaring now.

“Well, it’s either that or you get to be my personal assistant.” Nesta looks even more outraged at that, and Cassian holds up his hands. “I respect your need to stay independent,” he says, “but you can’t convince me that a handout or two is worse than going broke.” Cassian himself would be dead right now without all the handouts he got over the course of his life. “Please, Nesta,” he says quietly. “Think about it for me. And if you still hate it, I’ll never bother you about it again.” Even though it would kill him.

Nesta stares at him, the gears in her brain visibly turning. Finally— “Rhysand’s company does run on handouts anyway,” she mutters, glancing away. “What’s one more?”

Before Cassian can drop to his knees and thank her, she whips her head back to him. “But I want to do real work, Cassian. Not the pretense of work while I get a fat paycheck.”

He bursts into a grin and grabs her arms. “I’m gonna work you so hard.” He kisses her hard on the cheek.

Nesta makes a choking noise and starts coughing, and Cassian realizes how that sounded. “Did I say something wrong?” he plays innocent.

Nesta’s face is red for reasons other than alcohol now, but she covers it up by shoving Cassian hard enough to send him into the couch cushions. “Asshole.” She pulls her book out of her waistband and throws it at Cassian’s chest. “Have your romance back, I’m going to bed.”

“Hey— wait, it's six p.m. What about the puzzle?” he calls after her. She ignores him and keeps walking.

“Fine,” he says to her back, “but don't go to sleep with your contacts in again; you're gonna hurt yourself.”

As she reaches the stairs, he adds, “I’m proud of you for the moot court, by the way. I’m telling everybody you're the smartest person I know.”

Nesta pauses briefly at that, before saying, “Goodnight, Cassian,” and continuing up to her room.

Later that night, Cassian does want to tell everybody that Nesta is the smartest person he knows. She's the smartest, coolest, and wittiest person he knows, full stop, with killer looks and a criminally underrated personality. But something is holding him back from sharing his feelings with the rest of the world.

It's the same feeling that's had him avoiding Feyre these last few weeks. The unspoken knowledge that not everybody sees Nesta the way Cassian does, paired with the fierce desire to protect her from any sort of criticism.

He doesn't have any definitive proof to justify his feelings, but he knows he can't stop thinking about Nesta. He knows his friends will take notice of the change in his behavior eventually, so in a fit of restlessness, he reaches for his phone to test a theory.

Scrolling through his contacts, Cassian eventually settles on Mor. She's close to Feyre and Cassian both, has an inclination to gossip, and she’s never interacted with Nesta. Perfect.

Cassian: what do you think of Nesta?

He's straightforward with her the way he always is, the way she always is with him.

Mor answers quickly without question: didn’t she let feyre work her ass off at age 14 while she sat around and did nothing?

Mor: she sounds like a bitch and i have yet to see anything to the contrary.

Mor: she has very nice eyes though

Mor: if u know what i mean ( . )( . )

Cassian wishes he hadn’t even asked. He doesn’t even know how to reply to that, so he’s about to turn his phone off when another message from Mor comes in.

Mor: why do you ask? how are things going with you two?

Cassian sighs deeply, not in the mood to start a fight with one of his best friends. He never told Feyre about taking Nesta to the doctor, or the following MRI and diagnosis. The last time he had a real conversation with Feyre was the first night of Nesta’s period, when he was worried sick over how to take care of her.

“What should I do, Feyre? She's crying herself sick upstairs and all I have is this stupid hot towel.”

“You don't have to do that,” she sighed tiredly over the phone. “Nesta goes through this every month. She’ll survive. Don’t get yourself worked up over nothing.”

That was when he decided he was calling a doctor no matter what.

And now… He’s confused and upset and he doesn't know why. Instead of arguing with Mor, he texts back, it’s nothing. A second later, he adds, but she's not a bitch.

He wants to say more, but texting Mor an essay on why she’s wrong for judging Nesta without knowing her would make him look crazy, among other things. He doesn’t know why he has to clarify that Nesta isn’t a bitch in the first place.

Either way, Cassian’s theory was proven correct.

He decides not to mention Nesta to his friends anymore.

***

Nesta lays in bed, thinking about the absolute day she’s had.

If getting drunk with Emerie Nikolis and Eris Vanserra at two in the afternoon wasn’t enough, stumbling back home to find Cassian like that finished her off for good. Her cheek has been tingling for hours.

She remembers how this housing agreement between them first started: I need you to know you can enforce whatever rules and boundaries you want while you’re here.

Nesta huffs a laugh. Boundaries are for strangers. Cassian seems content to poke and tug at Nesta’s boundaries whenever he wants, and Nesta… is okay with this. A mere month ago, this would have been her worst nightmare— living with a man who pushes her on every decision, who never does what she wants but somehow always knows what she needs.

But now they're friends, and Nesta is slowly learning that the rules are different with friends. Not everything has to be spelled out, because Cassian will understand what she's trying to say anyway. Not everything that is unknown has to be scary, because Cassian is never scary.

He’s allowed to read her books because he won’t make fun of them. He's allowed to know about her personal health matters because he won’t tell anybody else. And apparently, he’s allowed to give her a job so she doesn’t go broke trying to afford endo treatment.

These are the new rules.

She’s ridiculously glad that she told Lorene she won’t be coming back to the apartment for a few weeks. She doesn't know what she'll do after then, but for now she is okay.

***

a/n: hello i love writing cassian pov and learning more about him so much :) also thinking about having cassian call nesta 'baby' when they get together more often than 'sweetheart' just bc i think it would be a good look on him. pls share ur opinion.

tagging: @ladywitchling @sjm-things @thewayshedreamed @drielecarla @sensitiveillyrian @superspiritfestival @aliveahaahahafuck @cupcakey00 @sayosdreams @rainbowcheetah512 @claralady @thebluemartini @nessiantho @missing-merlin @duskandstarlight @lucy617 @sleeping-and-books @everything-that-i-love @cassianscool @awesomelena555 @julemmaes @wickedqueenoffantasy @poisonous-bloom @observationanxioustheorist @gisellefigue08 @courtofjurdan @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @wolfiixxx @cass-nes @seashade @royaltykxx @illyrianundercover @queenestarcheron @monstrousloves-explodinggalaxies

#a favor #ncssianwrites #nessian #nesta archeron #cassian #nessian fic #nessian au

[captaincravatthecapricious]

After the Circus Part 4

Some thoughts from Tim.  I did not edit this, sorry.  

@janekfan

cw: strained friendships, arguing, fainting, dizziness, trauma, references to Jon's getting covered in lotion, disassociation, food mention, mentions of panic attacks (none in the story), canon typical season three Tim headspace (although he's being less mean!)

Tim’s eyes are burning.   He rubs at them absently.  Christ, his back hurts.  Elbow numb from pressing it into the break room table. 

He feels like he hasn’t closed his eyes longer than to blink since after Prentiss with those pain killers knocked him flat.  Feels like he hasn’t even blinked since Martin found out that Jon was kidnapped.  Didn’t even have that small bit of respite that is due to most creatures.  

He can’t take his eyes off Jon’s fragile form.  

He’s asleep on the couch.  Jon, that is.  Martin has dozed off at the table.  Chubby cheek smashed into it.  He’s pale, Martin is.  And tired.  There are deep circles under his eyes, almost starting to rival Jon’s.  Tim wants to brush the hair off his forehead.  Wants to tell him that it’s going to be okay, but Tim doesn’t believe that it’s going to be okay.  In fact, he’s fairly certain it won’t be.  Especially not after the Unknowing.  

Maybe… Maybe he could try.  For Martin.  Maybe.  

A quiet voice from deep within says that maybe he could even try for Jon.  Maybe.  

After all, what had Martin said?  Something about not letting the Circus claim any more lives.  A voice that sounds suspiciously like Martin whispers that that includes Tim’s life too.  

Imagining things.  

Christ, he needs to sleep.  

Nothing keeping him here now.  Not really.  Just… worry that he though he was done having.  

He really thought he could quell his care for his …the people who used to be his friends.  

The people he wouldn’t mind trying to be friends with again.  

Which leads him back to Jon.  Who he’s been staring at since …well he’s lost count.  

He’s asleep on the couch.  He’s shivering, but Tim isn’t going to take the blanket from Martin.  

Tim might almost want to care for Jon (while aggressively pretending not to care, of course).  But… but he hasn’t earned blanket rights.  Not after every hurt Jon has caused.  (The Martin in his sleep deprivation induced imaginings reminds him that most of the hurts were not caused by Jon.  Most, actually.  Jon caused some, but not most).  But Tim isn’t ready to believe that.  Or even if he believes it, not admit it for long enough to give Jon the blanket.  

In any case, Martin deserves it more.  Poor, optimistic, besotted Martin.  Tim tries to call him stupid.  Just in his head.  But a phantom, imagined voice (maybe Sasha’s?) shuts that thought down.  Christ, he’s losing it.  He needs to sleep.  Take a double shot of sleepy time cold medicine and hope that knocks him out.  

He’d do that now… but he isn’t leaving Martin here.  

And Martin isn’t going to leave Jon.  Not like this.  Not in a million years.  

Apparently Martin is A-Okay with someone stalking them and just going back to calling him a friend.  

Stop it, Tim.  Not helpful.  

And Jon really just looks frail and pathetic.  And that’s just made him angry recently, but right now… right now it makes him angry at the Circus.  

Which… not the best way to fix a friendship… if that’s even what he’s trying to do.  And he doesn’t know that for sure.  He isn’t sure of anything.  Head and eyes full of sand.  Burning and heavy and gritty.  Can’t think.  Doesn’t know if what he’s feeling makes any sense.  

The feelings don’t even feel like they belong to him.  Not at this stupid hour.  

What time even is it?  His phone ran out of juice, he thinks.  Died not long after Jon fell asleep again, before Martin fell asleep, before Tim took up his vigil.  Feels like he’s taking over for Martin.  Trying to care in his stead.  Trying to care enough that Martin will let himself get some proper rest.  

Which… which means Tim needs to do something.  And by something …well that probably means he needs to open his home to both Martin and Jon.  

Martin’s flat is too small for just one extra person, even as small as Jon, and there is no way in hell that Tim is going to let Martin alone with Jon.  Not when he knows Martin will give everything he has left to watch out for Jon.  Martin is quickly running out of things to give.  

Not that Tim has much to offer, but he can’t let Martin burn himself out completely on Jon.  

And Jon… well Tim hasn’t exactly been paying attention, but he thinks Jon is essentially homeless.  If him going back to sleeping on a shelf is any indication.  Or intending to, if he hadn’t passed out before reaching it.  

See, Tim isn’t that bad.  He brought Jon to the cot.  Miles better than a shelf.  

Probably, anyhow.  

Jon might have a mattress by now.  

He idly wonders if that hypothetical mattress would be like the one Tim used to host sleepovers on.  

Like the one Tim and Sasha and Jon shared on late nights after drinks and days full or research.  

And then he feels decidedly ill.  Because the Sasha in his memory isn’t the right one.  

He’d be sick if he had the energy.  

But he doesn’t.  

So he just readjusts and ;ays his head down on folded arms.  Back glad of the movement, but still protesting the new position just as much as the last.  

He’s decided, though.  When Martin wakes up, all three of them are going back to his flat.  

Until then he’ll watch the delicate rise and fall of Jon’s chest.  The rest doesn’t look easy.  Hasn’t since he got back.  Tim has to wonder if it’s been that way since Prentiss.  But he’s too tired to think.  Only has it in him to watch.  

Watch Jon whimper in his sleep.  Too weak to move about, like Tim knows Jon does when he isn’t weighed down by another person or his weighted blanket.  

He considers going to grab that blanket for Jon now, but he doesn’t have the energy to move.  (And a private part of him is worried that Jon will vanish if he looks away for even a moment.  Like he will be stolen away again.  Or that he will just… stop breathing.  Just fade away quietly without anyone to notice.  Or… care.  

So.  So Tim tries very hard not to think about where else he’s heard these words as he waits, and he watches, and he listens.  

When Jon wakes with a strangled scream, Martin nearly falls out of his chair.  Tim barely blinks.  Too tired to even move at that point.  He doesn’t want to think about how long he’s been awake.  

Martin’s by Jon’s side by this point.  A hand smoothing down his hair, and Jon’s crying again.  

Distantly he thinks he should probably try to get Jon to drink something or eat something.  Get some salt and water into him somehow.  But Tim is too tired to do that, and Jon’s crying too hard to do anything.  

Tim gives himself 30 seconds.  30 seconds to close his eyes, then stand up.  

He should be alarmed by the head rush that nearly takes him back down.  That’s not something he experiences too often, but… well he hasn’t exactly been taking care of himself.  

He trudges off to see if he can remember if he brought anything in with him.  If he did, he’ll grab that and anything that Martin might have brought in, and after that he’ll grab Jon’s weighted blanket.  

his feet feel like lead and he’s trying not to stumble over himself or the trailing blanket.  He’s got Martin’s bag over his shoulder, with the Tim’s water bottle and phone charger shoved in on top of Martin’s stuff.  Keys in his pocket.  Phone is his pocket.  Stifling a yawn in Jon’s blanket.  

He prods Martin with his shoe.  

“Come on, Marto.  We’re leaving.”

“I’m not leaving him!”  Loud and sudden and panicked.  

It starts Jon whimpering again.  

Pathetic, he thinks before he can stop himself.  

“He’s coming with us.  You can take the blanket or Jon, but either way, both are coming with us.”  

Martin glares at him in bleary suspicion.  “Where?”

“My flat.”

“Why?”

“So you don’t fall asleep at the table again.  And if that means getting Jon and you on my spare mattress or in my guest room, then so be it.”  

Martin slumps.  Partly because Jon is needing something or other, and early because …well… he looks basically dead.   

Tim can see when he gives in.  

Marin nods.  

Tim can also see when Martin realizes there is no way he can carry Jon, at least not until he’s gotten some proper rest.  And Tim doesn’t make Martin admit it.  

He hands off the backpack and the blanket, and scoops Jon up himself.  

Jon’s eyes flutter shut.  Heart racing against Tim’s chest, head lolling against his shoulder.  Fainted again.  It’s… starting to get worrying, in all honestly.  He hasn’t seen Jon this badly off since… well the few times he was running some truly scary fevers and the one time he didn’t sleep for an entire week.  

Jon isn’t feverish.  At least Tim doesn’t think he is.  Which means, it’s not a fever or it’s very low.  So Tim has to guess whatever Jon went through lead to a hell of a flare up.  

Nothing to do for that now.  

Maybe he can stop by a charity shop and get Jon a temporary cane tomorrow.  After he’s slept.  After he’s certain he won’t pass out from lack to sleep, himself.  

Get Jon a new cane, and hope Jon is up for solid food, because damn Tim wants crepes.  

He would sell his soul for some crepes.  

Martin is struggling to his feet.  Just as warn out as Tim.  

It isn’t a long walk to Tim’s flat.  He tries to hail a cab, but… he guesses it’s a weird hour on a week night.  No one is out.  

It isn’t a long walk.  

But Martin stumbles into him every few steps.  Trying to lean over to check on Jon.  

Jon is… conscious?  Maybe?  

But barely.  

He nudges Martin onto the couch.  Then drops Jon into his lap.  That should keep Martin from going anywhere.  

Then Tim drags out the sleepover mattress.  It hasn’t been out since… since Sasha was alive.  

Since before the Archives.  

It smells a little musty.  But… it feels like home as he tiredly wrestles some sheets onto it, and kicks his coffee table out of the way to make room for it.  

Martin stares at him uncomprehendingly.  

Tim leaves him to it.  

Tim fetches a lucozade for Jon, and two glasses of water.  

He goes and showers.  He brushes his teeth.  He throws on some sleep clothes.  

Martin still hasn’t really moved.  

Tim lifts Jon off his lap and onto the mattress.  He sets Jon down with more care than he can really take in right now.  And takes his place on Jon’s side.  

Jon looks to be sleeping, not unconscious now.  Good.  

“Marto you can shower if you want.  Feel free to find some clothes if you do.  Something should fit.  Or you can just… take a load off and join us.  Whichever.  But I’m going to sleep.”  

It’s been ages since he’s slept with Jon.  But… it feels like home.  Or… something like home.  He buries them both under Jon’s blanket, and under the spare duvet.  Drawing and arm around Jon, trying not to get lost in the tight feeling in his chest when Jon snuggles up close and tucks his nose against Tim’s clavicle.  

Tim pats the empty side of the mattress, and giving Martin something adjacent to a smile.  

When Tim wakes up.  Martin is sound asleep in some sweats that are oversized on Tim.  

He feels… heavy.  Both from exhaustion and from the weighted blanket.  

He can’t tell what time it is.  Blackout curtains are drawn against any light that could be.  It’s just… a dim grey… meaning there must be light spilling in from the kitchen.  Probably light out, then.  

Then… then he spares a glance for Jon.  Looking small and beaten in his arms.  

His eyes are open, and… he might actually be lucid this time.  

He makes a small question sound.  

It damn near breaks his heart.  

“Why are you being so nice?”  His voice is still wrecked.  It looks as though Jon might have burst a blood vessel whilst sobbing at the Institute, but he can’t be sure in this light.  Still.  It hurts.  

He also doesn’t have an answer.  

Pity is the wrong answer to give to Jon, and he knows it.  

But… it was some pity.  And some for Martin’s sake.  

He doesn’t know what to say.  

His silence, however is scaring Jon.  Jon who is starting to hyperventilate.  

“Hey.  Hey.  It’s okay.  I… I don’t know why.  But… I couldn’t leave you there.  And I couldn’t leave Martin even if I could.”  

Jon finally seems to notice that Martin is basically spooning him.  And makes a small sound.  

He looks back at Tim, a little teary.  

“Glad to see you awake, but maybe you should rest a little more.  I’d get you something to drink, but I don’t think I can get out without waking Martin.  But… but if you do need anything, I’ll risk it, so uh.   Let me know?”

Jon just shakes his head, and buries his face in Tim’s chest.  

Tim is… surprised.  Last time he was this close to Jon, Jon flinched away.  And that kind of makes him feel sick to think about.  And this… this makes something melt in his chest.  Something he hadn’t felt in a while.  

“Get some sleep, bud.  I’ll be here when you wake up.”  

Jon hmms, and Tim lets himself sleep.  

#the magnus archives #tma #fic #hurt/ comfort #whump #cw dizziness #cw fainting #cw strained friendships #cw suicidal ideation

[unholyhelbig]

Title: Centerfold [Pt.2]

Ship: Beca Mitchell/ Chloe Beale

(Read Part one here)

Beca Mitchell’s phone was a box of constant communication. She had her emails redirected so that she could feel every single time she needed to address something at the office, even if she was there and the soft pinging culminated in the very screen she stared at. She had a multitude of contacts and would video chat with the team in Italy, and sometimes L.A.

So, what she knew deep down, was that it was impossible for her not to look at her phone all day. Physically she had to check the notifications to keep her world running. Emily intercepted most of them, keeping her deep stare on her own screen before glancing up at her boss every couple of minutes. They were both on edge and Beca didn’t much appreciate the tension that sparked between them.

She held her breathe each time a new ping sounded off until eventually that lull of anxiety was hushed to a dull ache in the pit of her chest. She went through her morning meets and a new presentation to her team about how their coding for a new watch wasn’t up to parr- they had a few days to fix it before it dropped, and the CEO made sure she knew that.

When the notification from Chloe did finally come through, Beca almost didn’t’ notice. She registered the pink of the logo that slowly shifted to a deep purple. But the name? Oh, the name she hadn’t clocked for a few seconds after that. And even then, Chloe Beale? Her Chloe, actually responded.

Beca lilted the computer screen and frantically looked up at Emily, who was already at her door. She didn’t bother to knock. Instead, she situated the office and closed the blinds and very coolly, but not so coolly, pressed her back against the wood and breathed.

“Dude,” Beca said.

“I know,” Emily said “Did you read it?”

She hadn’t read it. She hadn’t even thought to read it because her mind got stuck behind the massive roadblock that was Chloe Beale and her stupid pun username. She opened the application and hesitated over the message icon. She was supposed to be playing it hard to get like she didn’t’ care if she even got a response. But she did care and apparently so did her assistant because she was right behind her, blindly gawking like her halo fell into her eyes and blinded her from right and wrong.

“If I click this she’ll see that I read it and then there’s no going back.”

“You don’t want to go back, do you?”

“You told me to keep her guessing,”

“Truthfully, I didn’t think you’d even get a response.” Emily shrugged sheepishly “Figured you would forget about it in a few days and… open it.”

Beca frowned but hovered the mouse over the message. She wanted to close her eyes but felt like she was watching a car accident, complete with the red and blue flashing lights and the metallic crunch of metal. Either way, she couldn't avert her stare. She didn’t want to.

Chloe: Hey stranger. I must admit that I was never expecting to hear from you again, big shot manager. I’ve kept my tabs on you… New York is my home, so if you’re serious about coffee, so am I.

Her breath caught in her throat. Chloe Fucking Beale had said yes. Her childhood love had agreed to coffee that neither of them could probably stomach. Chloe Fucking Beale who was a playboy model with more than a million Instagram followers, and Chloe Fucking Beale who she was pretty sure she still loved.

There had been other people, men, and women that she had thought she fell for. She folded into soft touches and stronger commands. She was happy for months at a time and on one rare occasion a full year with a man who ran his own tours of the city. But none of those relationships had ever been like the one she had with Chloe.

Beca pulled in a long breath that filled her lungs with stale coffee and copy paper. She tilted her lid and looked to Emily because she was the expert. And Beca was frozen. That same cold excitement filled her and it also rocked her ever-loving shit. She couldn’t move, she couldn’t think.

Emily looked at the darkened screen, then at her boss, then back at the screen before lunging forward and typing back a reply. Perfect. Are you free this Saturday?

It turns out that Chloe was free that Saturday and if she wasn’t, she didn’t’ say a word and quietly cleared her schedule. The day was quickly approaching and Beca really wanted to know why the New York Branch put her in charge of everything when she could barely figure out what to wear to a simple cup of coffee.

This felt more like a simple cup of coffee.

Emily eventually got tired of the barrage of pictures she was getting and took a cab to Beca’s apartment an hour before the actual date. They settled on black jeans and a blue button-down that Emily pulled closer to her chest for extra measure because according to her “You look good in anything and Chloe won’t be able to make eye contact with you.”

Then she was on a subway that smelled like stale snow and hot morning breath. They picked a small shop downtown that not many people knew about. It was a feat in the city to find a place that wasn’t packed like a sardine can and Beca trusted Chloe’s judgment tenfold.

Beca got there first, and her palms were sweating despite the cool atmosphere that swept through the little shop each time the door opened. It was a meta cross between a thrifted bookstore and a café. People sat and ate and read and the scent of what Beca imagined old magic to be, mingled well with coffee grinds and fresh pastries.

She ordered a simple black americano and settled by the front window, the glass fogged from a warm contrast with the cold of the busy street and curved lettering faced the patrons. There was a simple logo and one barista behind the counter. She chose a random book and pretended to read, but only skimmed the same paragraph over and over again.

Her main focus was on the door and the bell that chimed each time it was opened. One of those times, after a businessman and a hipster kid hugging his laptop close to his chest, it was Chloe. Soft and vibrant compared to the rest of the dim academic setting.

Her hair was pulled behind her ears and a pair of golden framed glasses rested on her nose. She had aged like wine and the wind that blew in behind her carried the sweet scent of southern peaches through the front door. She wore a white sweater with a plaid peacoat and high wasted jeans, and Beca knew she was staring.

Everyone was, they couldn’t’ help it. She overtook the room with a warm and sparked presence. If anyone recognized her they didn’t’ say a thing, out of saving their own face or because the girl in the centerfold of the latest playboy was wildly different than the one standing in front of her. This… this was her Chloe.

She didn’t’ know if she could hug Chloe, if touching was okay, but as she stood to greet her, she was pulled into the warmth of the woman. She was wrapped in overwhelming touch and emotion and she buried her nose into Chloe’s hair as they held onto each other, not quite willing to let go of the familiarity before realizing that it was inappropriate not to.

“Wow,” Chloe ran her hands down Beca’s arms, stopping at her elbows “You haven’t aged a day, have you?”

“It’s the lighting in here, I think it’s one step up from basement overhead.”

Chloe laughed and it was a magical sound. The only thing more intoxicating was her smile, which never seemed to leave her lips as she ordered her own drink, something loaded with sugar and caramel, and leaned forward across the table to get a better look at her date.

Beca sipped her coffee and quirked an eyebrow “What?”

“I haven’t seen you in ten years, I think it’s perfectly acceptable for me to study you.”

“There’ll be plenty of time for that,” She tested “What have you been up to all these years?”

Chloe leaned back in her seat and cupped her mug. It was a russet red and steam rose from the pale liquid that soaked inside. There was a sickeningly sweet odor to it and part of Beca regretted ordering nothing but a black coffee. It seemed like a disservice to the atmosphere of the shop.

“Oh, a bunch of stuff here and there. I used to be based out of LA, I did a lot of acting there. Little stuff like soap operas and a couple of commercials. It wasn’t for me, though so I moved here to pursue modeling and it’s been going well. Really well.”

Beca didn’t’ want to mention the playboy magazine or the curve of Chloe’s legs and the way her skin shown under the bright summer sun. She never returned it to Jason because he never asked for it back. It was an unspoken solidarity between the two.

“That’s amazing,” Beca smiled, feeling excitement in her chest “Anything I would recognize?”

Chloe hummed into her drink “Mm, maybe a few things. It depends on how you feel about Playboy. I never thought you were much of a reader.”

Beca looked down dejectedly at the old spined book to her right. It was true, she hadn’t read the Catcher in the Rye and she barely got through the introduction paragraph because of the nerves and the heartbeat that beat so strongly against the inside of her wrist right now.

“I’m not usually. But I do enjoy looking at the pictures.” Beca flicked her stare back towards the woman across from her “Though, that’s not the reason I reached out to you.”

“Truth is, I’ve always wanted to message you, but you looked like you were doing so well. Like you were so happy. I didn’t want to throw you off or seem like I was chasing something that we used to have.” She said, “So I waited.”

It was Beca’s turn to laugh, “I felt the same exact way. We’re both pretty stupid, then huh? Waiting like this for something we knew… for something we knew we wanted.”

Chloe smiled wider and clinked her mug against Beca’s yellow one, not spilling any of the mostly full drink. “To being stupid. And getting to know each other all over again.”

And that’s exactly what they did. They sat and talked until they were the only two in the coffee shop and Beca even dared to kiss Chloe when they got to the subway platform.  She tasted like caramel and sunshine if such a thing was even possible.

But it was because she had found Chloe. Centerfold Chloe. High school Chloe, and most importantly, her Chloe.

#Beca Mitchell #chloe beale #bechloe #bechloe fic rec #pitch perfect #pitch perfect fandom #pitch perfect fanfiction #Bechloe Fanfic #Bechloe fanfiction #Request #au

[trashscenariihxh]

Last Call Lay- Ging

You’re not sure what makes you approach the grimy-looking man standing in the corner of the bar, but you find yourself striding over to him, taking a drink of liquid courage as you do so. It’s late, almost 2 am, and the bar is getting ready to close for the night. “What’s the worst that could happen?” you tell yourself as you plaster on what you hope is a welcoming smile and give the man a once-over.  He’s not particularly tall, nor is he particularly well-dressed, but he’s handsome in a grungy sort of way.  Appealing, even.

“Having a good night?” you ask, flashing your teeth at him as your smile widens.

He glances at you and says nothing for a moment, as if deciding whether or not you’re worth talking to.  Finally he shrugs, takes a sip of his drink, and speaks.  “Could be better.”  He shrugs again.  “Could be worse.”

“Same, really.” He hadn’t asked you about your night, but you decided to volunteer the information anyway. Anything to keep the conversation going. “So,” you continue, realizing that it’s going to be a struggle to get a conversation out of the reticent man, “what brings you here?”

Once again, he shrugs.  “Sometimes I just want to feel anonymous.”

You nod your head in understanding. “That’s fair. Long day?”

“You could say that.” He finishes his drink. “So what brings you here?”

“The alcohol is cheap and the drinks are strong.”

“No, I mean, what brings you here.  To me specifically?”

“Oh.” You bite your lip, unsure of what to say.  “You looked lonely.”

“And did it not occur to you that I might want to be alone?”

Your smile fades momentarily. “No, not really.  Do you want me to leave you be?”

He’s silent for a moment, looking you over with large brown eyes. “You might as well stay,” he grumbles finally.  “The bar’s about to close anyway.”

“On that note, I’m going to get one more drink.  Do you want one?”

He shakes his head.  

“Suit yourself.” With a shrug, you go and order your last vodka tonic of the night. As you close out your tab, you’re somewhat surprised that the man hasn’t left by the time you get your drink, but you head over to him again, drink in hand. 

“What’s your name?” you ask, not particularly caring whether or not he answers.

“Ging.”

“Ging?” The name strikes you as a bit odd, and vaguely familiar, but you pay it no mind.  “My name’s ____.”

He grunts in acknowledgement, and you know that pleasantries are going to be kept at a minimum.  It’s good, in a way.  You prefer to get right to the point.

“So, Ging,” you begin, resting your hand on his forearm, “what are your plans for the rest of the night?”

“None, really.” He looks you over again, thoughtfully this time.  Perhaps he’s guessed what your intentions are.  Not that you’re being coy about them or anything.

“Tired?”

“I rarely sleep.”

You lapse into silence, you take another drink. Slowly, the other patrons begin to filter out of the bar.  The night is almost over.

“Do you want to get out of here?”

The bold question takes you by surprise.  “Now?”

Ging nods his head in affirmation. It’s clear that he’s a man who gets straight to the point. You shrug, finish your drink because there’s no way in hell you’re going to finish the night with anything less than a good buzz, and stand to follow him out into the night.

The night air is refreshing, much cooler and fresher than the stale, smoke-filled air of the bar. You breathe deeply, as if you haven’t had a breath of fresh air in ages, and look at Ging questioningly.

“So…” you begin, unsure of how to proceed. Normally you try to get straight to the point when taking someone home from a bar, but something about the dishevelled man has thrown you off.  He’s quiet, unreadable. “So,” you try again, knowing fully well that you’re unlikely to fuck things up no matter what you say. The night is going to end with you having a stranger’s cock in you; it’s just a matter of where.  “Are we going back to your place?  Mine? Or…”

Ging shakes his head.  “No.” He flashes you a quick grin. “Here.”

“Here?” You look around, incredulous. At first you think that he must be joking; drunken hookups in the alleys behind bars are the stuff of tall tales, and yet, the way Ging’s looking expectantly at you shows that he’s completely serious.

You weigh your options. You could attempt to persuade Ging to go back to yours. Briefly, you consider it. After all, being fucked on a bed is far preferable to having your back scratched up by grimy stone walls. However, one look at Ging tells you that it’s the alley or nothing, so you decide to just go for it. You didn’t spend your time trying to wring conversation out of the man just to go home alone. You stick out your lower lip and shrug while nodding. “Okay,” you exhale.  “Let’s do this.”

Ging moves quickly, tugging you to a dark shadowy corner untouched by the electric glow of the streetlight, and for a minute, you wonder whether you’ve made the wrong decision. When your back hits the moist, hard surface of a wall, you cringe, knowing that your dress is not coming away from this encounter unscathed. 

Ging wastes no time in hiking up your dress.  You shuffle awkwardly pulling down your underwear and stepping out of them while he occupies himself with getting his cock out. He gives himself a few strokes, more or less leaving you to your own devices for a few moments before pinning you against the wall.  You briefly consider asking him whether he has a condom, but when he pushes against you, you close your eyes, give a big “fuck you” to your conscience, your concerns, and your feelings in general, and allow him to proceed. With surprising strength, he lifts you; you instinctively wrap your legs around his narrow waist, hoping he doesn’t drop you. Luckily, he’s stronger than he looks; with a soft grunt, he positions the head of his cock against your entrance and pushes inside.

You gasp at the intrusion and battle down the indignance at being taken without so much as a kiss. It occurs to you that Ging isn’t one for such courtesies, but you wrap your arms around his shoulders and try to pull him in closer. You probably should have known it was going to happen, but Ging forgoes the kiss you offer to him and instead buries his face in the crook of your neck as he starts to move. It’s rough at first; normally you would prefer something in the way of preparation, and Ging has failed to do the bare minimum. The discomfort you feel doesn’t last long however; it’s soon borne away by little jolts of pleasure when his cock hits you just so. You let out a gasp when it hits you that way again, and for a moment you forget that you’re being fucked in a dark alleyway behind a seedy bar.

The scraping of the wall against your back jolts you briefly back to reality. With a soft groan of discomfort, you tighten your legs around Ging’s waist, urging him deeper, pushing him to go a little faster. Ging obliges, and with a deep grunt, he picks up his pace. His breath is hot against your neck as he pants against you; through the foggy haze that has begun to cloud your mind, you register his teeth grazing against your skin.

Never in a million years would you have thought you’d be able to orgasm in such a place as this, but the way Ging’s cock is hitting you, the way his hips are snapping against yours, tilts you into an almost begrudging bliss. With a soft moan you grab at the fabric of his shirt, desperate for purchase as your legs shake around him. Ging continues to thrust into you, either unaware of or apathetic toward your overstimulated state. After a few more pumps he’s cumming, groaning against your neck as he fills you with his release.

You stay wrapped around him for a moment, desperately trying to cling to the little aftershocks of the pleasure that have up until now been coursing through you. Almost too soon, he draws back and sets you down, and suddenly you’re back in the dimly-lit alleyway, your back is damp and somewhat scraped, and his cum is already starting to trickle out of you. You take a furtive glance around you before hastily pulling up your underwear; Ging chuckles at the way you futilely try to straighten out your dress.

“You good?” he asks, his face barely illuminated by the grungy lamplight.

Words momentarily fail you, so you nod.

He nods back. “Good.”

“So now what?” you ask, vaguely wondering how long you’ll have to wait to get a cab home at this hour.

Ging shrugs. “I guess we go home. I’m tired.” He conspicuously doesn’t offer you his number.

“Yeah. Me too.” You scratch your arm, suddenly feeling the urge to shower.

“Can you get home okay?”

You cock your head to the side, surprised that he’s being so courteous as to ask about your wellbeing.

“I’ll be fine.”

“I can wait with you. Until you get a cab. If you want.”

You consider his offer for a moment before nodding. “Thanks.”

Luckily for you, it doesn’t take long for you to call a cab. Ging sees you into it, giving you a small smile as you buckle yourself in.

“I’ll see you around then?” you ask, not really caring whether you do or not.

He shrugs. “Maybe. Maybe not. We’ll see.”

You offer him a tight-lipped smile as you close the door to the cab. Either way for you would be just fine.

#smuttastic #Ging Freecss #why did I write this

[deepdonutkid]

Gambling man

Warnings: swearing, smoking, drinking, dirty talk (starting soft here)

A/N: This is the first chapter of my newest series: Do you wanna touch ! There is also the summary of the story and the masterlist and the warning for the story as a whole. Have fun reading it and I hope you leave some love here!

There were no words to describe how annoyed he was. Why should he do something for Tommy after the regular work in the betting shop? John was tired and this was an understatement. He was nearly constantly yawning, rubbing his eyes and his head was aching. The kids kept him up all night. One wet the bed. This woke up the others. They wouldn’t go back to sleep that easily, of course and John was already half-dead when he arrived at work. And now he had to go to a swanky bar called “The mockingbird” to pick something up for this brother.

He didn’t even know what it was, but apparently it was expensive. Tommy was god-knows-where and John was sick of being his clown. It was always the same. ‘John do this’ or ‘John do that’ and he couldn’t escape it. Of course he tried, like a million times already. It has been like this since they were kids and even nowadays he couldn’t say no to his family.

After all, family was the most important thing in his life, but that didn’t mean that he couldn’t complain while doing the dirty work again. At least he didn’t have to care about his kids for the rest of the night. Polly was watching them. He agreed with Tommy about that. It was his only condition. When the job was said and done, he wanted a good night sleep. John couldn’t remember his last peaceful night, maybe before the war or even before his wedding. He was still a child back then, but he doesn’t really miss this part of his life.

Back then they were poor kids with some knives, robbing some fellows to get some coins. When he was hungry he had to steal, because begging never has been his thing. Looking back wasn’t glorious. It was just sad and nothing more. Now he has the money for food, but nobody will cook for him. Martha died during the war, so when he finally came home, broken and shattered; he was all alone with no one to comfort him. Well, he had the kids, but they behaved just as bad as waifs and strays. They still did. Always jumping around, asking way too many questions, destroying everything that comes to their hands and John just needed a break.

Just one night, was all he was asking for.

But first he had to do his job. Then he could think of all the ways he could spend his free time. So he walked to the pub and grumbled. How fucking garish it looked! Everything was so nice and expensive and everyone acted like they were about humans. John gave a sniff about these posh fuckers. The look in his eyes was dismissive as he entered this fancy place.

Indoors it smelled like wine and cigars. Not bad, he thought as he glanced around. The place was light and warm and full of laughter. Golden ornaments everywhere, he noticed and shook his head about it. This was nothing he cared about. They wouldn’t even serve beer here.

John walked to the bar and ordered a whiskey, Irish of course. Then he waited at the counter, like Tommy had explained to him. A man would walk up to him and asking him how the weather was outside and regardless of the cloud free sky that night, John should answer: “It’s fookin pouring.” What a bloody drama was this anyway? Why he couldn’t pick up the package like a normal person? But with Tommy and his secret plans and all this bullshit he had no other way, but to do as he was commanded.

The Shelby drowned one glass and then next and then the next, still no contact in sight. For the glimpse of a moment he thought he had to wait all night for the man to come. After his fourth glass of whiskey a small man with a bowler, white stubbly hair and a curly moustache arrived. He had an umbrella with him and used it as walking stick. The way he walked looked almost cartoonish. John gave his best not to laugh about this codger, especially when he asked the question. “Oh, young boy, could you please tell me, how is the weather outside?” The voice of the strange man was croaking, which made the whole conversation even more farcical.

Now he really had to bit his lip, so he wouldn’t burst out in laughter. “It’s fooking pouring”, John chuckled and emptied his glass.

“Good”, the old man said: “Just as I expected. Now I don’t need the paper anymore. Take this.” He handed John a newspaper with something inside. John took it and put it in the inside of his jacket. The dossier was safe there.

Instead of saying thanks, John shouted to the bartender: “One drink for him and one for me.” The guy behind the bar rushed to them and poured another drink. John wasn’t drunk yet, but sooner or later the whiskey would do his work.

The job was a simple transaction, but his part of the deal wasn’t done yet. First he paid the barkeeper and waited for him to leave. Then he sat there awhile and drank there quietly. He still didn’t know how he should hand the money discretely… until the man asked: “Boy, please do me another favor. Lend me some money for the cab.”

This had to be a sign, he thought and pulled out a thick wad of money, which he slipped into the wrinkly hands of the geezer. “This would be more than enough. Farewell.” He muttered and stood up from his stool, ready to leave.

Just in this moment he realized nature was calling and he should do that, before walking into the cold night of Birmingham. So he took a little detour to the lavatories.

With steady steps he headed to the exit. One last time he turned around. There was something interesting about this place after all. In the back were four card tables. John liked to play, whenever he was at the garrison, but even if he left right away, the garrison would be closed as soon as he arrived in Small Heath. It was almost midnight by now, but John was now more drunk than tired and he though one or two rounds of cards couldn’t hurt.

So he walked towards the tables and studied them to pick the right one. On the first were just some posh greybeards, which weren’t interesting at all or at least not for John. The second was empty and on the third table were two Chinese men talking in their mother tongue. The last table caught his attention. There sat the croupier, a man with a scar across his face in his forties, a Spanish guy with gelled hair and a lady. She had her hair open, so the blonde locks would reach her tailbone. This seemed by far to be the most interesting table.

Without a second thought he sat down at table number four. The other players nodded slightly, when he arrived. The round wasn’t done yet, but the pot was full of chips and in the middle was a golden hair pin. Now he realized why the woman wore her hair open. She had used her pin as her stake.  

John decided to take a closer look at his fellow players. The two men were exactly what he thought they would be… greasy, compulsive gamblers. Nothing more to say.

But the lady… Well, there was something about her. John couldn’t point it out yet, but he was eager to find out. Everything from her golden shiny hair to that arrogant grin on face was capturing. She had a fierce look on her face as if she knew something everyone else didn’t. Every little detail like her dominant cheekbones or tilted chin seemed to add to the impression how privileged and entitled she was. Yet, she was quite charming in her pink dress. Her clothing seemed to be expensive, but it completed her appearance.

John was so caught by her presence; he didn’t recognized when the round ended. The other player with the scar and the hat folded, so she won. As she revealed her hand, her opponent groaned and slapped his fist on the table. Apparently she had nothing, but a good poker face. The Shelby was pretty impressed. He had played cards with some girls before, but none of them were really good at it. They just tried to flirt with him, while playing.

So he leaned closer to her and whispered: “Any luck today?” She gave him a dismissive glare and then collected her stake.

While she twirled her hair around and put the pin back in place, the croupier asked John, if he wants to join for the next round. He nodded, pulled some bills out of his pocket and gave it to the dealer. In return the dealer handed him some chips and started riffle the cards.

The man who just lost the last round stood up and left the table grunting. Then the lady declared in a dry tone: “At least more than him.” John let out a little laugh. Obviously she was funny too. He already took the bait and was curious to get more information about her.

The Shelby slid closer to her and smiled at her, but that didn’t seem to please her. “Don’t fucking look at my cards.” She growled, raising an eyebrow. John bit his lip, glaring at her with amusement. Then he noticed, he didn’t even check his hand, so he did that- a jack and a five- and then placed a bet.

After he had done that, he started staring again and couldn’t stop until she nagged: “What exactly do you want from me?” He chuckled. As if he would know that?

“Whatever you want to give me”, he grinned and leaned forwards as he tried to get in a more comfortable position on his chair. While talking he noticed her smell. It was a combination of roses, vanilla and oranges. What a great contrast to the people he usually talked to. He wanted to ensure, that this wasn’t an illusion, but sniffing on woman wasn’t a publicly accepted thing to do. Even he knew and heeded that.

With widened eyes she gazed back at him. “So… you want to get slapped?” she answered, with blank eyes. The woman was quite serious, but John couldn’t help but smirk at her. He liked her fervor.

John smothered to say a little delinquent ‘Maybe’ and placed another bet as it was his turn again. His cards weren’t the best, but he wanted to keep playing.

They played for a while. Then out of the blue the lady asked: “Should I take you silence as a yes? Or did you swallow your tongue?” He didn’t expect her to insist on an answer.

His hand scratched the back of his head as he searched for words to say. “No, I just…”

“Just what?” she interrupted him, before he could even finish his sentence. Now she seemed to sneer.

Her laugh made him laugh too. It was contagious and he always had a thing for fierce women. “I just want to know you name at least” he added.

“Does this matter?” she responded while fumbling with her chips: “Aren’t we here to play cards, ey?”

The Shelby nodded. She was probably right. He shouldn’t care about this, but yet he still had the desire to know more about this mysterious creature in front of him. “To the game… no” he murmured: “To me, yes.”

She looked down at her cards, as she raised the stake. He didn’t know, if she would ignore him again, so he introduced himself first: “I’m John.” He raised her by two more chips.

The blond groaned as if she was almost disappointed. Then in the next round she called and said with the most Russian accent he could imagine: “I’m Darja, but you can call me Dascha.” Now he was surprised again. He didn’t expect that. From first sight she didn’t seemed to be Russian… but who would have guessed he was Romani. They would have thrown him out, if they knew.

“It’s a pleasure” he nodded and waited for the other player at the table to end his turn. That slickly guy folded and now it was just the two of them in the game. John decided to call and as he placed another red casino chip in the pot he whispered to himself: “Dascha”

Her name was like a sweet melody to him and fitted her image as an entitled little madam. They moaned the loudest though, when they get a good fuck. The picture of them doing it in the lavatories wouldn’t leave his head as he peered into the distance. How he would shag her, grabbing her tiny little butt, while she begged for more.

This little though brought him unholy amounts of pleasure. With a grin on his face he finally arrived back in reality, just to notice that he should shut his cards down. She waited patiently and then showed her hand.

The two of them starred at the cards. He had won with just a three of a kind. That was luck indeed. She had a pair of queens.

“Seems like you’re lucky tonight”, she mumbled as she took a sip from a colorful drink.

His eyes widened from surprise and amusement. Grinning at her he asked: “Oh, is that so?”

The blonde woman clucked her tongue and gave him a dismissive stare. “Don’t get cocky after just one round.”

So the next round started. They played for a while. Sometimes she had won and sometimes he did.

Now his cards were even better than the last time. John had to bit his lip to hide his smile. Soon after he placed a bet, he got an idea. The guy on the other side of the table was nearly out of money and so it was clear it was a race between them now.

When the other guy reached his limit, John put three of his red chips in the middle of the table and said to the croupier: “Open a side pot, please.” Then he slowly turned to the woman. She hasn’t changed mimic or position, almost statuesque. There was still this mysterious smile on her face. But then she moved her hand to call.

“Shall we make this more interesting?”, he purposed and flicked a coin in his hands.

She glared at him for a while, completely silent, as if she tried to read his thoughts. Very quietly she hummed. John had to focus on the melody to even hear it, so it wouldn’t get lost in the surroundings. Finally she tilted her head and inquired: “What do you have in mind?”

It seemed like the Shelby had caught her interest as well and he was ready to play with her. John licked his lips and laughed. “Just a little bet. If I win this round, we’ll meet again… on a date.” He knew just too well, that if he mentioned something more sexual, this little lady would run away. But as his grandfather used to say, he had to think of the long game.

The Russian nodded. “But what if I win? What do I get? Do you even have something interesting for me?”

Now he was a little lost. He thought he’d never get this far. What could she want was the question in mind. Well, he couldn’t give up his pocket watch and he didn’t have anything else expensive with him. But on the other hand she seemed to be rich enough to deny his offer.

John was desperate, not completely, just a little. This might be his only chance with a woman like her. So he did what he could do best- be an arrogant asshole! He looked at her the whole time until he made his move. His eyes wandered from her to his manhood and then back to her. With a cocky smile on his face he underlined his wager.

And she burst out in laughter: “Hell no!” It took almost a minute until she calmed down again. She was still giggling like a five-year-old, when she added: “This is not going to happen, but I’m going to take your ring as a stake. So you’ll learn your lesson.”

At first he didn’t know what she meant. Then he looked at his hands. Like other Romani he wore at least five of them. Most were family heirloom, but his wedding ring wasn’t. All his other rings were luxuriant. His wedding ring was simple golden and had no ornaments like the others. Until now he had completely forgot about this. Of course he was still wearing it. He never took it off. Not during the war and not after Martha had died.

John had never questioned it, but now he had to. If he wasn’t so sure, he would win, he would have never agreed to this. It was a weird feeling to take it off, after all those years.  He turned the ring in his hand, still worried if he would get it back. Then he heard her giggle again. She felt confident, John wouldn’t cross this line, but because she was so convinced, he finally put the ring on the table. “Then teach me”, he grunted.

Once again it was time to turn the cards. His heartbeat was going crazy as his fingers reached for the two cards in front of him again. He flipped them as quickly as possible. There was no chance, she would win. John had a fucking flush on his hand.

He was watching her closely, as she played with one lose streak of her blond hair. One moment she was laughing, and then she hung her head. Suddenly he would realize the bittersweet nuance in her smile, as she had shown her cards. The Russian had lost again. “My luck ended, when you came to this table, I guess”, she mumbled.

On the other hand John couldn’t feel luckier. He took his bet back, put his ring back on and piled up his chips gleefully. “Oh, you shouldn’t be sad. You just won a date with me”, he joked knowing he was just rubbed salt in her wounds.

Amused he watched her as she pouted her lips. She stood up from her stool, stretched herself and declared: “I better get going, before I lose the rest of my dignity.” A nod to the croupier was enough to tell him to change the chips back into money.

John did the same, when he had put his money away, he ran after her. “Wait, darling”, he said under his breath: “You don’t get away this easily. You still owe me something… Let me walk you home, so I know where I can pick you up for our date.”

She chose to ignore him, so he grabbed her wrist to stop her from going away. Then she turned around to him and raised her eyebrow. “Do I?”, she asked: “I thought this was a joke or would you really gamble away your wedding ring? What would your wife say about this?”

Before he could even answer, she added: “I mean I feel very flattered by your attention, since you’re somehow good looking or whatever, but I don’t fuck married man.”

“Stop right there”, he replied: “Yes, I was serious and don’t bring my wife into this discussion. The date doesn’t mean we have to have sex… I mean it would be nice, but that’s not my point. I want to get to know you… and I won.” Somehow he couldn’t tell her the truth. He was a widower with four children and he didn’t want her to pity him. Actually that was the last thing he wanted right now. In his opinion it was better if she thought he was a married asshole, than a poor, sad widower.

With a straight face she wrest herself free, just to offer her arm, so he could link in. Her cheeks were gleaming red as she moaned: “Let’s just get out of here.” Gladly he would take her hand and guide her outside.

It was still warm outside and it would be one of the last pleasant evenings in Birmingham for the next time. Fall was coming soon and it would get way colder. Right now, he and the lady to his right could walk down the street without a coat. John was mentally prepared to give her his jacket, if she would need it, but she was silent as they left the nightclub.

“Why do you want to walk with me? I don’t live so far from here”, she asked and looked the other way.

It was so dark outside; he could barely see his own hands in front of him. Yet he knew that her face was still flushed with shame. His smile was undeniable. “Well”, he explained: “You don’t come from Birmingham and so you might not know, it’s a dangerous town for a woman like you.”

He could see the silhouette of her head nod. Then he heard her laughter. “And you are here to save me?”

Of course, it wasn’t his job to bring her home, but it felt like the right thing to do and after all, he wanted to spend more time with her. It was a weird thing, yes, since he had only known her for maybe an hour or less, but there was something about her, something captivating and he thought that eventually- if he could get to know her better- he could figure out why she was so fascinating to him. There was something in her eyes, something he had never seen before and he was keen to know, what it was. Or maybe he was just needy and an idiot to fall for the first pretty woman he had seen for months. After a while he answered: “Yes, I do.” His voice was soft, when he spoke, it sounded so unfamiliar.

“What make you think I need a savior?” was her next question. Somehow he got the idea, that she would never stop asking things. The way she said it seemed so innocent to him. He had seen war and violence en masse and he knew his city well enough to predict something bad, without having any second Romani sense like his aunt.

“Nah, I just think it’s better to be safe than to be sorry”, he responded and caressed her arm with his thumb. Usually he wasn’t so sweet, when it came to woman, but he still tried to charm her. And it somehow worked, at least she giggled again.

Then she joked: “So what? You’re going to heroically fight them off with your fists? Is this what you want me to believe?” Suddenly she stopped walking and just stood there, staring at him.

John chuckled and stopped as well. “No, I have a gun.” He didn’t want to scare her, so he just said it very calmly. And well, there was no need to show his Webley to her, right?

The Russian laughed even louder. Somehow she managed to say: “Excuse me… English is not my first language… Is gun another jargon for cock?”

Another time this would make him laugh as well, but now he thought she was not taking him seriously, which hurt his big male ego. After all, he was a goddamn Shelby, a King of Small Heath, a gangster or whatever people liked to call him… and yet the little lady in front of him was twitting about him.

So he opened his jacket and his gun shimmered in the light of the nearest lantern. “See? I’m not joking, honey”, he grunted. Others would fear him now, but she looked very unbothered right now. She wasn’t impressed or scared, she hid all her emotions beneath her brilliant poker face again.

They stood there in silence for quite a while. John wasn’t sure how to proceed and he was still waiting for her reaction.

All the sudden a big smile from one ear to the other was carved into her skin. Her eyes seemed so lost, like she wasn’t mentally here anymore, when she lifted her hand to his head, or to his cap to be precise. She snorted as she hovered with her finger over the edge of his flat cap. He was about to tell her about the razor blades he had sewn in there, when she presented the blood on her index finger. “You are one of these Peaky Blinders. Am I right, John?”

He felt caught, even though this wasn’t actually a secret. It was more like everybody knew who he was. So why couldn’t he say something now? All those words were stuck in his thought and he couldn’t break nor speak. His head was all blank and he still wanted to turn this conversation around. The only thing he could do was to nod.

“Good”, she whispered and came close to him: “I like when someone doesn’t play by the rules, because neither do I.” The Russian moved away and her cheek briefly brushed against his.  A shiver ran down his spine. Her voice was electrifying and he wanted her to moan his name over and over again.

She was so mean, when she teased him like this, but he couldn’t deny that this was appealing to him. “Fuck”, he groaned and put his hand on her waist to pull her closer. Now he could see her face in the light of street lantern again. To his pleasure he noticed that she seemed at least a little scared. “Following the rules is just so tiring and on top of that also boring. Why should I keep playing by the book, when is so much more fun, just to break some shit?” Under his fingertips he felt the fabric of her dress and how she trembled.

Just like he thought it was getting to cold for just a summer dress like hers. “Do you want my jacket?”, he offered with a smile and moved his hand to her cheek to caress it gently.

Slowly she shook her head and refused his kind gesture. “No, I’m fine. Thanks.” They were still close and she hasn’t hurried away, which was a good sign for him.  He liked to feel her warm body against his. The last time he had felt something like this was so long ago.

A small, but very vulnerable smile graced his lips. “Dascha?” Calling her name like was oddly intense, but his heart jumped when she squeaked. He hadn’t imagine her to be so soft all the sudden as if she was melting in his hands. And the look in her eyes gave him the rest. It was like the world had stopped for a second. There was no sound, no other smell and no other visual sensation. Everything else became so blurry. Now there was just her. Maybe it wasn’t even his action, maybe the whiskey had made him to it, but he leaned in to kiss her.

Their lips met a lot sooner than he thought. John was so relieved, she didn’t push him away and seconds later he was surprised how soft and sweet her lips tasted. He couldn’t get enough of this. His hands were all on her body. Right now everything else that happened this night was irrelevant. This was worth all the stress. And he was glad, he had enough courage to do it.

Even when they parted, they were still strangers to each other, but John was sure he felt a connection. Heavily breathing he couldn’t take his eyes of her. She was still panting. Her lips were swollen and her whole face was heading a shade of red unknown to mankind, but fuck, she was beautiful.

“You stole a kiss from me?” It sounded more like statement than a question, but John nodded in agreement. Yes, he did that and he was so proud he did. It was the most interesting thing, that has happened to him in months and he would do it again, if he had to.

The blond bid her lip and moaned: “Now I have to steal it back.” He hadn’t even realized what she just said, when he felt her lips on his again. She had caught him in surprise and he got the idea how she must have felt, when he attacked her like this. It was rushed and yet perplexing good.

They only stopped, because the bell announced the next hour. She looked up at the sky as if she could she the clock tower from this dark alley. “I have to go now”, she explained: “But let’s meet here again next week. Same spot at eight.” Then she pointed above them. Only now he noticed they were standing at the corner of St. James and George Road.

“Can’t wait”, he replied and smiled. There was no point in asking her again, if he should walk her home. She seemed to be sure to go home alone. The Russian nodded and hurried away. He kept eying her until she disappeared behind the next corner. This whole encounter was so surreal.

On the way back home he thought about her and hoped he wouldn’t forget their next meeting. Now he just had to figure out, how he would convince Polly to take care of his kids. When he got home everything was silent. The kids were asleep and he would go straight to bed to. As he stumbled out of his clothes and into his bed, he still could feel the touch of her lips. Needless to say, he had a wonderful sleep that night.

tagging: @theshelbyclan​ @justalonelyslytherin​ @bonniesgoldengirl​

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