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jaynovz · 6 months

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Is it time for me to foam at the mouth about one of Silver's most batshit insane decisions in the entire show?

(So the ramble underneath this is literally 2k, so like, make good choices I guess. also pls imagine me as Pepe Silvia meme the entire time)

So I see people talking a lot about how Silver is fucking deranged bonkers banana cakes he has 10,000 snakes in his head instead of a brain and of course I agree this is just Canon.

However, the moments that we focus on are like 3.3, doldrums talking to Billy about Flint controlling reality when he's starving and dehydrated or like what he says in response in 3.10 when Flint tells him his story, about Thomas.

Both of those are very very good moments for Silver being fucking crazy and saying things out loud with his human mouth that no regular unfucked human being would come up with, he set new RECORDS for it, agreed.

TODAY I want to talk about a different moment, what I think is the most egregious example of Derangement. It's in the Silver-Flint gold conversation in 2.7.

Quick context-- Before Silver meets back up with Flint in 2.7 he was sent after a VERYYYY dissatisfying conversation (aka "the gold is still a priority" where Silver challenges Flint on the Vane and the fort and Abigail Ashe plan and Flint lies to his face) to go influence the men to vote for Flint's side of things over Hornigold's. After dealing with the Logan situation in the middle of that (which I don't actually think Flint ever finds out about Silver helping to cover that shit up, but that's not the point right now) he shows back up right in the middle of Hornigold addressing the pirate council and accusing Flint of a bunch of crimes (most of which are accurate lol) and Flint is Angy about "where the fuck has you [Silver] been?" and Silver tells him (loud enough for the entire council to hear mmhmm) that the gold is gone.

Now the order of the scenes, the timeline, means The Reveal about the gold is with Max later, (right, that later is the point it becomes real for us because we're finding out the same as Max's that Silver has made the gold disappear) and so it's hard to keep in mind until a second watch how the entire time there in the tent and Silver is putting on this performance, such a good show about it the whole time and then he goes and talks and gives the speech to the whole fucking combined crew and that entire time we don't know yet.

But Silver knows. He has already engineered a situation where he has convinced to the scouts that they're going to sell the location of the gold to another crew!! He has already removed the Urca gold from right under Flint's nose!! (Which is like the thing that Flint has been working towards for an unknown amount of years since he found out about it right? This thing, this sort of mythical amount of money, which is going to solve problems and effect change and build a future and fulfill Thomas ideals.)

And while he's talking he has already waved his hand and made it disappear in the narrative and he did it so skillfully that we don't even suspect that this is happening until the reveal and so sometimes it's hard to go back and think about the 2.7 tent conversation.

Potentially it doesn't quite HIT on the first watch. Maybe not even the second.

But yeah what I want to draw attention to is that... this ENTIRE TIME, from the moment Silver shows back up, he is putting on the performance of his fucking life. He's ALREADY met the scouts Vincent and Nicholas on the jetty, he's ALREADY convinced them ON THE FLY ON A WHIM to lie to Captain Flint. He's ALREADY coached them through exactly what to say to sell it, to lie to Captain James Flint's fucking face. right??? and THEN only after that does he goes to meet Flint.

And the very specific thing I am focusing on isn't even THAT gamble, which is fucking SCARY CRAZY ALREADY. But the WAY this boy pulls the bluff out, the lengths he goes to during the next convo in the tent about "there is no we. the gold was the inducement" and all that. You know the scene.

I wanna underline how Silver decides midstream, midargument to... FLIP IT AROUND and accuse Flint of making the gold disappear.... when Silver literally just made the gold disappear.

Silver: I believe I've been clear about the nature of my investment here. The gold was the inducement. Now no gold… Flint: It's an unfortunate development that we have to adapt, and quickly. Silver: Adapt? I've had about my fill of adapting lately. Doing your bidding, keeping the crew in line for you. Flint: I wasn't the only one to benefit from that. Silver: It certainly seemed that way. Even now you're the only one benefitting from it. Flint: What are you saying, that I'm benefitting from the gold having disappeared? Silver: It certainly solved a number of problems for you, didn't it? I have half a mind to wonder if you didn't orchestrate this whole thing to your advantage.

So yeah I'm uh, I'm literally foaming im frothing im cappucino right now. I want to put this UNDER THE MICROSCOPE AND STUDY HIM. what in the FUCK. Silver knows the entire time, this ENTIRE EXCHANGE, that not only is the gold still on the beach but that he is gonna fucking SELL THE LOCATION to Max and Rackham. And then sits there cool as a fucking cucumber with his mask of irritability...(because of course if he had nothing to do with it!!) Like of course he would be mad that the gold is gone, because the gold was the inducement RIGHT.

All of the rest of that is a foundation for like the craziest part isn't necessarily that he's putting on the act That's in keeping with him, we've seen that, we saw that he was getting more and more frustrated and that part doesn't surprise us that like he would... I mean we saw him steal the page and we saw him burn the page and we have seen him make these types of kind of batshit decisions so we're like "okay this this checks out."

But the truly deranged part where it goes beyond like it just like they're like literally... he. he. HE ACCUSES FLINT OF THE THING HE JUST DID. There was no reason for you to say that and at this point it's like he is SEEING how CLOSE he can get to the fire, he is seeing how much RISK can be pulled off. He's getting off on poking and sleeping dragon in the eye when he knows very well the entire time that he stole the fucking dragon's gold.

"I have half a mind to wonder if you didn't orchestrate this whole thing to your advantage."

I--

it's... it's some reverse psychology bluffing gamble, it's "let me say what has happened, let me literally ADMIT WHAT I JUST DID but no YOU did it, I projected it onto YOU. hope that you don't think about that too hard. let me hope that this works out"

There was... THERE WAS JUST NO REASON FOR IT. He was already pulling it off, the conversation was. "There is no we" and "I was clear about the nature of my investment" THAT'S ENOUGH. STOP.

there's just no reason for him to have done that but it's because he's fucking crazy he's a crazy person

The way his brain works just does not follow lines of logic like a sane human being!!

FURTHER POINT--

this is how we also get to the point where he convinces himself to go to Charles Town (because we see him go to Charlestown!! we see him on the ship the next time!! in 2.8!!)

and he says to the scouts that, yknow, paraphrasing "we came on this endeavor in order to allay suspicion about the fact that we have all double crossed this crew that we are sailing with right now including Flint"

now the thing about that is that and I think I've mentioned this before, but I don't know if I've said it in a formal post that so many people had defected/deserted because the gold was gone and they had no appetite for storming the fort after that. And then Silver went and convinced to the rest of the crew remaining to go to Charlestown to seek the pardons right and that's what Flint wanted him to do. So if Silver then defected because the gold was indeed the inducement and there was no gold then I don't think Flint would have fucking batted an eye!!!

And neither would anyone else!! because even though Silver is very useful to Flint as a tool right now, Flint was very mission-focused, very Miranda-focused very pardons-focused, very "let's fulfill Thomas's dream"-focused. So even though he does and has needed Silver a lot recently to influence the crew, I don't think he was really thinking about him basically for two-three episodes after that basically. Cuz they don't talk again, right, and they are just not in each other's orbit for 2.8, 2.9, 2.10.

So what that tells me is that Silver goes to Charlestown and he just... really didn't have to he could have stayed in Nassau and assisted Max or just laid low until the gold got retrieved and then potentially taking his share and left before Flint crew got back!!

I've talked about this specific part before where Silver says that their safety is contingent upon whether Flint is successful in his endeavor or not. Like he says that out loud to Vincent (which is the most bat ship banana cakes bonkers thing ever) about it because he's basically hitched his horse to the outcome of this pardon situation when he absolutely didn't have to do that to get the goal he and the scouts could have all just deserted and no one would have been the wiser because so many crew had, including Dufresne, because of the gold situation!!

Now there's some arguments here about well.... one of our main characters cannot just leave.

But because the writers have created a party member who wants to leave the party what they then keep having to do is invent more and more convoluted mental gymnastics to himself to continue staying and following Flint which is why at the end of the day I sort of can't really see a situation where the Silverflint thing is not like the main thing because they're both obsessed with each other in different ways (and Silver is obsessed first because he doesn't fucking leave and there's a bunch of reasons he should and there's a bunch of chances for him to do so) and so it all starts to look real fucking gay

But yes uh circling back... Silver lies to Flint's fucking face about the gold, going so far as to ACCUSE HIM of making it disappear, then goes on an extremely dangerous errand trapped on a ship full of people who he double crossed with two scouts with loose lips... when, in order to guarantee his future, if we're looking at actual real logic and actual real pragmatism and survival instincts and not just "oh I have to follow Flint because ummmm -dial up sounds-",

Then he should have stayed in Nassau.

#black sails #black sails meta #john silver #long post #disclaimer that I basically just sat in the bed last night and did speech to text ramble to my phone for an hour #and this is what we came out with #please imagine in all ways but physical me sitting next to you on a comfy couch with two fingers of rum #furiously ranting and gesturing about him with a roller coaster amount of volume variation #and you would be accurate as to the mood this post is supposed to convey #thoughts #like I cannot stress how long of a post this is I am not sorry but also buckle up buttercakes #i ahve been waiting for nearly a month to fully articulate this and I still dunno if I managed it #okay I've been waiting three years #i think i repeat myself oops #Charles town au

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thisapplepielife · 4 months

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Written for the @steddiemas challenge.

Permanent 99

Prompt Day 30: Smut Themed Sentence Starters | Word Count: 2811 | Rating: E | CW: Sexual Content, 18+ Only | Tags: Sports AU, Swimming AU, Modern Setting, Eddie & Gareth are BFFs, Olympic Swimmers, Heat Wave, Outdoor Fooling Around, Blowjob, Eddie POV

This follows my Sports AU drabble from @steddieholidaydrabbles where they were Olympic Swimmers, but can be read standalone.

This one is also available right here on AO3.

we're hot and sticky as we can get, don't need to go swimming to be soakin' wet, you lean in and you bite my lip, it's hard to be cool in heat like this, sweat drop at the end of your nose, makes you lose your mind and lose your clothes Christian Kane, Permanent 99

Eddie rests his forearm over his eyes, attempting to block out the way too bright sun and wipe the sweat away from his forehead at the same time.

The strips of cheap vinyl from the PVC lounger are sticking to his bare back and he can't seem to shift in any way to get comfortable with the feeling. Steve is worth millions, but he's dragged out some old as shit, tri-fold lounge chairs from last century. They had to have been stashed in his parents' pool house, left over from the eighties, faded from sun and years of disuse. If Eddie's going to be subjected to the summer sun, he's definitely gonna need a newer chair, because this is really not working for him.

He's sticking to it in ways that feel really gross.

That has a lot to do with the fact that it's so humid it's almost insufferable. The glare off of the water isn't helping matters. It's blinding him, even through his sunglasses. They've spent a lifetime looking at pool water, so Eddie's not entirely sure why they're still doing it now, on their own time.

“It’s hot as shit,” Eddie finally announces, moving his arm just enough to catch a glimpse of Steve next to him.

Steve smiles, seemingly unconcerned by the unrelenting heat.

He's tanned, and glistening in the sun, looking every bit of a Greek god. That bastard.

Eddie's actually seen Steve in Athens, at the fucking Olympiad itself, and he damn well didn't look anything like he does right now. Steve was only nineteen then, still just a kid chasing a dream. And, now he's a man. A gorgeous man.

Eddie is pretty sure he looks like an overheated, wet cat in comparison. A pitiful thing that probably just needs put down.

But Eddie grins, because retirement looks good on Steve Harrington. Damn good. Retired before thirty. That's quite the thing to wrap his head around.

But that's not going to stop Eddie's complaining.

“From now on, summer months will be spent strictly indoors. It's too hot, and I’m too pale for this,” Eddie declares, as if that is the final decision on the subject matter.

It isn't. Not if his perpetually sun-kissed boyfriend has a say in the matter.

Steve just rolls his eyes, and doesn’t look away from his magazine, "You made the worst dressed list, again," Steve offers, flashing the glossy pages in his direction. "They put you on the fug list."

Well, Eddie doesn't give a flying fug what that rag thinks. He's gonna wear what he's gonna wear.

"And let me guess, you're in the other column?" Eddie asks, but he already knows it. Ever since they went public with their relationship after retirement, they've been tabloid fodder. Everyone has been speculating on how long this has been going on (since Athens) and how long it will last (hopefully forever) and they've picked apart every last detail of their lives they can get their hands on. And their very different style choices have been a popular topic of conversation.

Steve retired, Eddie didn't. Until he did. And now, they're both out of the meat grinder, free at last to do whatever they want to with all this brand new free time. Eddie's had fun running swim clinics for kids, and Steve has been funneling his time and money into his charitable foundation.

The rest of the time, they spend lazing together, just like this. Finally getting to really build this relationship of theirs into something even deeper, and stronger, than ever before.

They can't leave swimming, not totally. It's in their blood. But it's nice to be away from the early practices and constant sacrifices you have to make to be an Olympian, not just once, but several Games in a row.

Their not-so-secret love went public at Eddie's last Games, when Steve showed up, but kept out of the announcer's booth, and refused to be interviewed. He wasn't there for his own promo. Everybody was pissy about it, wanting a piece of him, wanting the ratings boost his voice, his face, would bring in. But Steve was only there to see Eddie, Gareth and the rest of his friends on Team USA swim, that's it.

So, it didn't take long for rumors to reach a fever pitch, and instead of denying them. They just admitted they were together, and had been, for a very long time. And now, they were looking forward to retirement, together.

And that was that.

They've been holed up at Steve's house ever since, trying to keep away from prying eyes, to just be together. With no other commitments. No early practices. No strict diets.

They're just Eddie and Steve. No longer Harrington and Munson.

But, Eddie's getting a little stir crazy and a lot hot. He needs to be anywhere but beside a pool right now.

“I haven’t even set foot in the goddamn pool and I’m sweating through my trunks,” Eddie whines, just making sure his opinion on the subject has been heard by Steve, loud and clear.

“Shoulda rocked the banana hammock, bro,” Steve supplies with a shrug of his shoulders, laughing loudly, totally unbothered by Eddie’s constant bitching.

Eddie smiles, "Don't call me bro, dude."

Steve giggles, and it's the best sound. So carefree. All that weight of expectation just…gone. It was amazing to see. Retired from professional swimming, Steve doesn’t sweat the small stuff, not anymore. And Eddie is one hundred percent down for that.

"Speedos aren’t exactly casual pool wear, regardless of what you might think, Harrington,” Eddie adds.

“Sure they are,” Steve answers, waving his hand over his lap.

Eddie looks over at Steve, and lowers his sunglasses down his nose. Steve's wearing a tiny, all-white Speedo that Eddie can't look away from. It was a purposeful choice, Eddie is well aware.

Steve's baiting him.

And the white makes it basically see through. It’s nearly obscene and Eddie knows damn good and well Steve wore it on purpose, knowing he’d either sweat through it, and make it see through, or end up in the pool…and make it see through.

Eddie knows this game well and it sadly always, always works on him. He's an easy mark. Always has been when it comes to Steve Harrington.

Eddie pushes his glasses back up on his face.

“You're right, the Federation should have forgotten all about the tech suits and went back to those," Eddie says, licking his lips, wetting them. Two can play at this game.

There’s a sweat drop clinging to the end of Steve’s nose and Eddie reaches over to catch it with his thumb. Raking his eyes all over Steve.

"Is this seriously turning you on?" Steve asks, lifting an eyebrow. "I'm basically wearing an old work uniform."

Eddie just nods, looking at every inch of Steve's body. Still toned, but already going slightly softer in places. Not to mention all the body hair. Steve's hairy, when the fuck did that happen? After only knowing him as the shaved and waxed swimmer, this has been a fucking revelation of a magnitude Eddie can't even put into words.

Steve's a man. No longer the kid he was when they met, a million years and a million miles away from here.

"You're staring," Steve says, teasing him, and Eddie just nods. He's definitely staring and he'll do it some more.

Steve smiles and sets his magazine down and crawls over onto Eddie’s lounger, straddling Eddie’s thighs. It creaks and shifts under them, and Eddie holds his breath, and prepares for the little metal legs to collapse. It doesn't, miraculously, and Steve takes Eddie's stillness for an opportunity to lean in and bite at Eddie’s bottom lip before Eddie can, well, give him any more lip. Eddie groans a little at the feeling, hands settling on Steve’s hips. Steve deepens the kiss and runs his fingers through Eddie’s sweat-damp hair.

When they finally break apart, Steve is even slicker with sweat than he was before, but he just grins down at Eddie.

“Let’s go in,” Eddie urges, thumbs tracing lazy circles on Steve’s exposed hip bones. Running his thumb over Steve's Olympic rings tattoo that's just barely peeking over the top of the tiny Speedo.

Steve took Eddie to get his own rings tattoo after his first Olympics, and Eddie took Gareth after his. It's a sacred tradition.

Eddie presses his thumb into the slightly faded ink, then dips it lower, stroking until he feels coarse hair under his thumb. Then, he's sliding his other hand up and down Steve's hairy thigh. More hair. Hair for days.

In fact, Steve’s chest hair is damp and right in Eddie’s face. It’s driving him a little wild. Steve spent so many years shaved, that this has been a goddamn turn on. Eddie leans forward and buries his face in Steve's chest.

Steve just laughs, and pushes Eddie back down, nipping at Eddie’s neck playfully, “S’good out here.”

“Think of the air conditioning. And the big, big bed.”

“This is bed-like,” Steve insists, reaching over and hitting the lever sending the chaise flat. The unsteady metal legs wobble comically and Eddie laughs as Steve topples over on top of him ungracefully. It's a nice change of pace, since Eddie often feels like he's the ungraceful one nearly everywhere but in the water. Always one wrong move from a trip to the E.R., while Steve stands by, shaking his head.

Eddie’s fairly certain this flimsy-ass chair can't hold their combined weight indefinitely, even without Steve trying to fuck him through it. But he still runs his fingers through Steve’s hair, pulling him closer, encouraging him.

He'll ride this train into the ground, without question.

Steve closes his eyes, and grinds down against him.

Eddie grips Steve’s hips, resting his fingers against Steve’s ass, cupping him through the Speedo. When he squeezes his fingers underneath the tight material, Steve opens his eyes to meet Eddie’s, and Eddie just raises an eyebrow, questioning.

“By all means,” Steve answers, lifting up enough for them to work together to get it shimmed off his ass.

It isn’t easy. Removing a wet Speedo never is, and Steve’s wallering him in the process. Eddie almost takes a knee to the nuts, but they finally get it peeled off Steve's hips and tossed onto the ground.

Steve unties Eddie’s trunks and pulls the Velcro closure apart loudly. He snakes his hand inside and closes his fist around him, and Eddie can’t help but buck up into the tight grip.

“Fuck, Steve,” Eddie pants, leaning back further, enjoying the feeling.

Steve smiles and leans forward, chasing him, licking a path of sweat off of Eddie’s chest. It makes Eddie shiver unexpectedly and he can’t stop himself from tangling his hand in Steve’s hair. Urging him lower. Steve takes the hint. He always does.

He pushes apart Eddie's trunks, getting himself better access, and Eddie lifts up, to let him tug them down a little further, but not all the way off.

Eddie groans when Steve’s mouth makes contact with his dick.

He rests his hand on Steve's head, feeling every movement from above and below. Steve's a gold medal cocksucker, that's for goddamn sure.

"That's good, sweetheart," Eddie says, and Steve hums in acknowledgement, head moving up and down, hand doing the rest of the work in tandem.

Eddie slides his hand down to Steve's face, pressing his palm to his stubbly cheek, and Steve changes the angle, so the head of Eddie's dick now hits the inside of his cheek with every bob of his head, bumping against Eddie's palm.

Steve's teasing him, playing with him, but it's fucking hot.

So hot, and it's all Eddie can take, honestly, and he arches his hips off the chair, coming.

Steve pulls off, and makes eye contact as he swipes his tongue around his mouth, gathering up Eddie's come on his tongue, which he shows Eddie, before swallowing.

"You're gonna kill me," Eddie says, as he moves to wrap his hand around Steve's hard dick, but Steve holds up one finger, wagging it at him.

And then he slides fully on top of Eddie, and ruts into his hip. Using Eddie to get himself off.

Jesus H. Christ.

Retired Steve is his favorite version, so far. Even more than top of the podium Steve. Or secret locker room blowjob Steve.

This version? His to keep? This is the one.

Steve's breathing heavy into Eddie's ear, hot puffs of air and soft moans that make Eddie wish he could get hard again right now. Eddie digs his fingers into Steve's slick back, just along for the ride. Getting to enjoy the sights and sounds of Steve working hard. Breath catching with exertion.

It's so familiar, and yet, brand new.

Steve lets out a groan in Eddie's ear, and then comes inside Eddie's shorts, and that's a new feat, for sure.

Steve clearly doesn't give a fuck if he glues himself to Eddie's pubic hair, as he lays down on Eddie fully. Naked, sated and happy. This is the kind of hot Eddie isn't going to complain about.

He almost says so, when he feels the whoosh of air blow past his arm before there’s a splash in the pool. He freezes. He doesn’t dare open his eyes, even if he’s certain it’s only Gareth. Maybe Robin, if he's really unlucky.

Steve's house has a revolving door. You never know who's gonna show up, unannounced.

And Eddie can't help it, he flushes even further, cheeks red and hot, totally embarrassed.

When Eddie finally cracks an eye open, he laughs when he sees Gareth standing in the pool, right at the edge. Arms folded, head resting on them. Staring right at Eddie. Gareth has no shame and doesn’t get embarrassed easily, if ever.

Just like Steve, honestly.

How he's surrounded himself with these two, he's not exactly sure.

"Whatcha guys been doin'?" Gareth drawls out, like he can't see Steve's bare ass in his face and know exactly what they were doing.

Gareth's caught them fucking in several countries at this point. This is nothing. It's not even in the top ten most compromising positions he's seen them in. But still. Eddie could do without it, for sure.

Gareth's dog, Bonzo, is prancing around poolside, barking and jumping, just as hyper as his owner.

Steve just shakes his head, leaning over and picking up his discarded Speedo and walks back towards the house, like it’s no big deal to be walking around the backyard, totally naked. It's nothing Gareth hasn't seen before, to be certain. They've all spent far too many years together, in far too many locker rooms.

Still, Eddie lifts his hips, and gets his trunks back up and securely fastened. He’s not about to get caught naked if he can help it. Unlike Steve, he does have some shame, and doesn’t exactly desire his junk getting featured on TMZ.

Some days, Eddie thinks Steve's just daring them to run dick pics of him. Probably because he knows what he's packing, and nobody in their right mind is gonna give his dick bad press.

Definitely not Eddie. No way.

Eddie is about to get up, when Bonzo seizes the opportunity for the freed up premium seating, and jumps up onto Eddie’s lap.

Eddie hears the chair give way before he feels it. Soon enough they’re both falling to the ground. It’s a short fall, but Eddie still scrapes his elbow on the concrete and Bonzo shoots him daggers as if this whole mess was Eddie's fault, as the dog darts away from the scene of the crime, and towards the house, trying to catch up with Steve.

Steve clearly saw it happen, and he’s doubled over laughing near the sliding glass doors, still naked, and Eddie really doesn’t find it all that funny.

“Fuck you, asshole, that hurt!” Eddie yells across the yard as he awkwardly untangles himself from the wreckage. Steve just laughs harder, and as much as Eddie wants to, it’s hard for him to stay mad at Steve.

Eddie gets up and surveys the collapsed heap of vinyl and aluminum. It looks like it's a total loss, and that does make Eddie smile, fully thankful that the chair from hell finally met its overdue end.

He jogs to catch up with Steve, hoping to slide in the shower with him, where Steve will kiss his wounded pride all better, and maybe go for round two.

Notes: Song is Permanent 99 by Christian Kane. It's not on Spotify, or I'd just embed it. Gareth's dog is Bonzo, after John Bonham. Because I still like to think he's a drummer in this world, and that still plays with Eddie here, too. They just took their focus elsewhere.

This is the kind of chair I'm talking about, which they're still making apparently?! I had no idea.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddiemas and follow along!

If you want to see more of my entries from this challenge, they are in my tag right here!

#steddiemas #steddiemasnaughtylist #“Is this seriously turning you on?”#steddie #steddie ficlet #olympic au #swimmer steve harrington #swimmer eddie munson #gareth is a little shit #gareth stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things fic #thisapplepielife: short fic #thisapplepielife: steddiemas

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ciaoteamo · 1 year

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Relationships with The Recoms

*na’vi reader*

(a/n): they all look so offended💀

*sfw*

*only a few recoms*

Mansk

-He wasn’t the most affectionate guy, but he wasn’t the least.

-He’d never do any public PDA, he lowkey gets shy even when you call him ‘baby’ around others.

-He’d never admit that though.

-He’d rather spend his entire day around only you, he liked the intimacy of being the only ones out.

-Speaking of being the only ones out, he completely destroyed your sleep schedule by waking you up once everyone was asleep.

-He loved the way you’d curse him for waking you one second, and happily drag him along a trail the next.

Lyle

-Being that the two of you were from completely different backgrounds, many of his jokes flew over your head.

-He was always making the effort, nonetheless, anything to keep that smile on your face.

-Lyle made your definition of clingy seem like a long distance relationship.

-He was always touching you.

-Always calling for you.

-Always needing you.

-And you sometimes would get annoyed with him, being that it kept you from doing chores, and when he realized it, he’d go into a full on heartbreak episode.

-He was like a big baby needing it’s mommy for everything.

-You’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy it though, you could always count on him to be there for you.

Zdinarsk

-Her favorite pass time with you was staring at and tracing your freckles. Especially when they were glowing. No matter how many times you’d say she has them too, she’s claim that yours were prettier.

-You couldn’t lie, it made you a bit giddy, you appreciated all of the small compliments.

- She had many questions for you, and only you. No matter how difficult she knew it was for you to answer. She only felt comfortable bombardino you with them you assumed.

-She always praised you. Sometimes, you were a little embarrassed by how she’d notice exactly when you needed to hear it. Her observation skills were a 10/10, but then again, so was everything to you about her.

-She was honestly your rock, if you had a bad day, she’d go find something to make you feel better, if you were having a good day, she’d make it even better, her #1 priority was keeping you smiling.

Lopez *the short king with no shirt on*

-He often struggled with the Na’vi language, but he loved to hear you speak it.

-He’d ask you to say a lot of things in Na’vi, regardless if he understood it or not, which led to a lot of repetitive conversation.

-You didn’t mind though, you sometimes did the same to him with his Spanish.

-He liked to tell you about the traditions his family would follow that were similar to yours, it made both of you feel more understanding of each other.

-His love language was gift giving, be it something to eat, or something to wear, he rewarded you daily with objects.

-Oh, and your hands tracing his tattoos at night was like a gift from Eywa. He melts like putty every time, growing more thankful for them every night.

-Speaking of tattoos, he low key wasn’t good in the jungle alone yet, every once in a while he’d get into an altercation with an animal that’s never seen a tatted Na’vi and wants him dead.

- Ja was an interesting guy, very quiet and to himself. You would’ve never payed him any kind had he been pure Na’vi.

-You were glad he stuck out though with his short hair and extra finger. Because he was amazing.

-Anyone that didn’t know him, would think he was some rude douche bag. But he had the kindest spirit.

-He made sure to keep you comfortable at all times, giving you space, or a boost when he knows you need it.

-He always did things the hard way however, didn’t ask for help, always let the help literally have to ask for him.

-Life or death? It didn’t matter. He was your sweetheart, and your prideful mate.

Miles

-Honestly, he just loved to look at you.

-Sometimes the way he’d watch you from afar was unsettling, but hey, to each his own.

-Flying with you before bed was his daily routine. Catching you the second before you closed your eyes to go with him.

-Sometimes you’d ride yours, most times you’d just ride with him. Even falling asleep on the back a couple of times.

-And he wouldn’t dare to wake you, making sure things were going as smooth as possible.

#x reader #na’vi avatar #avatar2 #avatar 2 #avatar: the way of water #avatar imagine #avatar recoms #recom avatar #na’vi reader #na’vi x reader #na’vi #fluff #sfw #avatar sfw #ciaoteamo #recom lopez #lopez recom

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true-blue-sonic · 2 months

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I know for sure I've asked about this a long time ago before but I'm kinda back to thinking about how different the development of Espio and Silver's dynamics would've been in Rivals 2 if they weren't as quick to fully trust each other as they were in canon but remained "enemies" a bit longer and only really teamed up out of necessity. If their dynamic isn't already near-spotless following an inexplicable "for some reason I trust you" type conversation, there's more room (and requirement, really) for growth on both sides; in the original dynamic it feels more like if there's any growth to be had then it'd be solely on Silver, so this thought might also help find a balance

I recall having talked about it before as well, yes. I would say that Espio and Silver alike have quite a few vices that would make cooperating between them far more difficult: they're both tremendously stubborn, proud, opinionated, hot-heated, and just to the extent neither can let evil go its way. While none of those are necessarily attributes that are bad in the situation they are in, I can envision them clashing very badly because of those traits. Considering Espio is actively chasing Silver down to gather evidence of him committing a crime, Silver's hot-headed nature might cause him to fly right off the handle if Espio keeps pushing him about it. And Silver's haughty and rude attitude in turn might make Espio far less willing to see the best in him and try to trust him. I think it speaks to Silver's honest nature and Espio's ability to see the truth in it that they were able to cooperate so relatively smoothly in Rivals 2, but I can also envision many scenarios wherein things did not go so idyllically until far later in the game.

What you're saying next is actually a bit of an issue I have when writing my fics: I've joked before that Espio is "already perfect" because he's just... basically an expert at everything, haha! He completes his missions well, he's driven and skilled, and his overly serious demeanour as the Chaotix's straight man alongside his snark feels like more like comedy than a flaw or something that truly hinders him to me. Meanwhile, Silver is far more 'imperfect' to me: he jumps to conclusions, he can be uncooperative and rude out of nowhere, and even if he is always right in the end, the way towards that end can be tremendously rocky because of those personality traits. That was why I wanted Espio to also go through a development in Stories that made sense to who he is as a character: specifically that he follows Vector's rule to a T regardless of his personal opinion on the matter, which begins to clash with the fact Silver is very much guilty but did what he did for a good cause (aka not a black-and-white scenario at all). And since Silver plays a central role there as well, I think his flaws can play a role also: he doesn't want Espio to be walked over, but the way in which he conveys that (which is rude as hell) might make things worse at first. Vector might be even more pushy about Espio gathering evidence if he gets yelled at by Silver, and Espio in turn might feel needled and put under pressure from two parties now that demand entirely opposite things from him (in his mind). I think such a thing could help make their dynamic more interesting and also different from New Beginnings, while fitting with their personalities.

#silver the hedgehog #espio the chameleon #I gotta look more into Espio's statements and actions as seen in the games to shape his flaws better in my mind #but I'm thinking about things like him being the designated hacker in ShTH even though he himself notes he's not good at it #or him just standing there and being present in Colours DS while Vector and Charmy (and Sonic and Tails) do NOT notice him #I get the feeling he sometimes just 'falls away' a bit in the chaos and promptly gets shoved into doing things he'd rather not want to/can'#and he's absolutely too proud to admit defeat lol #and Silver would hate that! Silver would not at all want Espio to have someone else dictate what he's supposed to be doing #especially if Espio would rather not be doing the things demanded of him #Silver's caring comes from a very genuine and concerned place but I think he'd struggle with *communicating* that clearly #and that could be a source of conflict between him and Espio I think

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drsteggy · 1 year

Text

Author’s Notes: So this took a little longer than anticipated, but I didn’t have a lot of down time the last ten days or whatever. The original plan was to do like 500-750 words per section, but this one needed more. I also had to “do research” for Link and Zelda’s path to this shrine, because I did not realize it was actually accessible by horse until like 3 days ago.

So if you’re worried about “the same Hyrule” for TOTK, maybe don’t be because I have like a thousand hours in this one and I still learn new things.

The battle sequence here is what I did to clear the path so I could ride my damn horse up to the shrine.

********

“I do,” his voice is soft as drops his gaze back to his dinner. He scrapes the spoon across the bottom of the wooden bowl. “I remember.”

She sets her own spoon down on the table and wipes her hands on a napkin. “Do you remember my apology?”

He had read about that in her diary. He shakes his head.

“I know you felt bad about yelling. We were both different people then.”

She goes silent. When he looks up at her, her eyes are round and soft. Her lip curls slightly as she fights back a tear. “Well, I’m sorry. You did not deserve my anger that day. Or any day.”

“It’s okay, Prin- Zelda. It’s okay. We were different people.”

“I suppose. There are things I wish I did differently, especially with you.”

Link debates licking his bowl clean and decides it’s not appropriate behavior in front of a princess, even if she doesn’t want to be one anymore.

“We could ride out there, maybe?” Hope lifts her voice.

“Sure.”

“Great,” She stands up, pushing the bench away from the table. “We can leave in the morning.”

Link runs the conversation over in his head, trying to figure out where he erred. “What about Impa and Kakariko? That’s across Hyrule?”

Zelda turns her gaze to him, brow now wrinkled as she briefly considers the question. Tension coils in his chest, though he isn’t sure why.

“I think Impa will wait a little longer. I did.” She punctuates her statement with a bright smile before turning and striding out of the stable.

Link sighs and tips his face to the ceiling.

****

He takes a second horse from Riverside Stable so she has her own mount and gives her a refresher riding lesson. She lifts her hands too high to steer, but the horse he picked is forgiving and gentle. She will be safe on Caramel’s back.

They set out across central Hyrule, riding past the very place they battled the Calamity not so long ago. The ground is still burned, though there’s new grass trying to fill things in. Neither says anything about it, but Link clucks Epona into a canter.

A week later they stay at the stable by the Great Bridge in the southern edges of Tabantha. The air has gotten crisp and cold. Link cooks with peppers and Goron spice that night to try and keep warm. Zelda claims his hooded cloak. She has reclaimed the slate as well.

“The first time I came here, I had to scramble past a pair of flying guardians.” Link says as he banks the coals for the night. “I hope they aren’t still there. It didn’t occur to me to try and bring a horse up to that shrine until I found the memory you left me. And then I had to back track.”

Zelda nods absently, with her hands clutching a mug of tea. Her eyes search the sky, picking out constellations.

“I guess you already know about the path up.” Link takes his own mug and sits across from the fire.

“Sorry,” she turns her attention back to him. “It still feels new, having a body again. But, yes, I know the path up. I had such a hard time getting Storm up there a hundred years ago it ruined most of my early start.”

Link doesn’t remember much about the incident a hundred years earlier before sliding Darcy to a stop at the foot of the shrine, dismounting before the horse had come to a halt. Zelda spun on him immediately, and expressed her displeasure loudly. Storm grazed, one foot cocked and ignored the entire scene until Zelda angrily grabbed the horse’s reins and dragged him off to find a suitable mounting block.

“How early did you start?”

Zelda smiles. “Well before the sun. I had to tack the horse away from camp so I didn’t wake you, and then I left. And struggled and cursed for the next two hours to get up that path. It has steps! I don’t know why he wouldn’t just go!”

“Steps are not made for horses.”

“Still, it was easier going than a lot of other places where he just went.”

“He followed Darcy. He didn’t want to go alone.”

Zelda makes a small, non committed sound.

“Well, we will go together in the morning. Together.” He makes sure to meet her eyes as he says this, and is rewarded with a smile.

“Together.” She agrees.

They rise with the sun to cross the bridge, enjoying the quiet and the early light. The bridge is in bad shape after a century of neglect, so the ride out is slow. Link hopes to pick the pace up on the other side.

He spots the first skywatcher almost as soon as the horses are off the bridge. Din’s balls.

Zelda lets out a huff as the unwieldy machine flies into view, its red light searching as it travels some prescribed path around a tall column of stone.

“Stay here,” Link makes sure to get her direct attention. “I’ll take care of them.”

“I fought the Calamity, too.” Her voice is perhaps sharper than she intends.

“Yes, but I’ve fought these particular guardians several times.”

Zelda huffs again but doesn’t dismount. Link hops off Epona and pulls out a bow he took off a dead lynel. The bow magically turns a single arrow into three, maximizing his stash of ancient arrows. He nocks an arrow, half draws the bow and runs forward.

His first shot falls short.

The skywatcher has not noticed him yet, so he drops to a squat, calling on Revali to lift him into the air.

Revali is silent. For the first time since he’s earned it, the Gale does not explode around him. Link’s eyes widen, but the fast beepbeepbeep that fills his ears says the guardian has seen him. He bolts, acutely aware that he is a little too far from the column to hide behind it before that targeting light turns…

Everything around him goes white and he tumbles, the grass burning as the guardian’s white-blue light hits him in the middle of his back. The tunic is reinforced with dragon horn and protects him from most of the damage. He gets up and runs to put the column between him and the skywatcher.

With the sight line broken, the guardian hovers in place, searching the ground for him. He takes the moment to climb the column, using all his stamina as he leaps and pulls himself to the top.

He drags himself to the top, panting, and sticky with sweat as the guardian decides he is no longer a worry and begins circling the column again. It flies low enough that it does not see him until he pulls out the bow and launches a triplet of ancient arrows into it.

The machine lights up pink and rises, planting its target in the center of his forehead. Link calmly raises his bow and takes careful aim at the guardian’s eye. The beeping grows faster and he draws a breath before releasing the bowstring.

The bow explodes into pieces as he does, but the arrows already hit their mark and the guardian drops to the ground, leaving a pile of wreckage. Link can see a small ancient core from his vantage point. That’s mine, you bastard.

He steps off the ledge, unsnapping the paraglider to slow his fall, intent on taking his spoils before dealing with the second guardian.

His hand is on the ancient core when the whine of the targeting light starts again. He drops the core and runs back to the column, making it to safety just as a bolt of white-blue light hits the ground behind him.

The Yiga bow only offers a pair of arrows instead of three, but they fly in a straight line instead of an array. He nocks an ancient arrow, draws and takes aim at the agitated skywatcher swinging its search light at the ground. It takes two shots to bring it down.

He steps forward to retrieve his spoils, suddenly tired. Slicing down the pair of chuchus sensing an opportunity is an after thought.

When he gets back to Zelda she is wide eyed and her fingers are tight on her reins. “So you’ve fought them before? Are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine.” He puts his foot in a stirrup and swings a leg over Epona’s back.

Why hadn’t Revali’s blessing worked?

He shakes his head. “Let’s go. It’s pretty straightforward from here, and the ground is easy.”

They follow the road at a canter, turning off to follow a barely marked trail that leads up to the small plateau the shrine sits on. The trip is uneventful, even as it takes them past a camp of lizalfos that seems to ignore them. Link clears a few moblins that roam the top, but by mid morning they stand before Tena Ko’sah shrine.

“There it is.” Zelda slides off Caramel and slowly makes her way to the shrine. It had been dead stone the last time they stood on this spot together. Today it is lit up in blue.

They stand together silently. Link has only a memory of a memory of what happened here a hundred years ago; his memory of this place is one of trial by combat, trying to prove that he is worthy of accolades he earned in another life.

Zelda seems oddly on edge, standing a little taller than usual, almost resting on the balls of her feet. She presses her lips together and whispers, “I’m so sorry about what I said to you here.”

Link shakes his head. “You are forgiven, princess- Zelda, Zelda.”

She looks over at him and he smiles at her. She returns it almost immediately, warming him as much as the sunshine.

“You can still get inside, correct?” She asks.

Results in 24 hours!

Rules - part one

#poll fic #poll game #my fic #legend of zelda fanfiction #breath of the wild

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dakotakazansky · 11 months

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Ghost • Seven

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Warnings: 18+, Fluff, Angst, lots of Dumb Bitch Juice, Some Smut

Pairings: Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x OC & Javy ‘Coyote’ Machado x OC

Word Count: 2,196

Kota

The following morning Jake and I got to base way earlier than we expected. It's a nice breezy morning so we get out of his truck, and lean against the driver's door. I'm tucked into his left side and he's got his left arm wrapped around my shoulder. It's times like this where I fully take in our height differences, him being 6'0 and myself at 5'2.

I cross my arms over my chest and take in the hustle and bustle sounds of the base, although something about it seems off to me. It's not nearly as noisy as it should be for the amount of movement that is going on around base.

Without realizing it I rest my head against his shoulder and he rests his cheek against the top of my head. We stand here in silence enjoying each other's company for what feels like 5-10 minutes before Jake ultimately breaks said silence.

"Alright Kota, what's going on inside that pretty little mind of yours?" He questions after taking notice of the look on my face and my lack of rambling about whatever is usually on my mind.

"I don't know honestly, it's just that the base looks busier than normal, but the sounds that usually coincide with said movement aren't present." He pays attention a little more than he was before and I point out certain things to him to further explain my thoughts.

I take out my phone, and shoot off a series of text messages. Jake watches me send off these messages before asking, "Who are you texting?" I look up to him, showing him my phone screen and the messages, stating, "My dad."

I start to feel a little anxious after we finished reading the conversation between Iceman and I. Like magic Jake can sense the change in my demeanor and tries to cheer me up with, "Haha did the legendary Iceman finally use an emoji in the correct context?" I laugh at his comment, "Yeah, he actually did, I'm such a proud daughter," I say acting like I'm wiping a tear from my eye and fake sniffling.

"So something is amiss, and he doesn't have much details, and he calls you Koty?" Jake says that last part curiously.

"Yes, yes, and yeah it's a childhood nickname that only he's ever called me" I reply to each of his questions. I look up at him still tucked into his side, "Do you think we might end up getting deployed?"

He shrugs, responding to my question, "I'm not sure if we will, but I guess the next few days of training and drills are going to be intense to prepare us in case it comes to that" he says, while softly rubbing my left arm to try to comfort me.

I chew on my lip, debating if I want to say what I'm thinking right now. Without making eye contact I whisper somberly to him, "Jake, I know how badly you want to get to Top Gun, but please promise me, if we get deployed that you won't be a cowboy in the sky like my Uncle Mav, don't leave Tate and I."

He pulls me tightly against his side resting his cheek on top of my head again, whispering back, "As long as you promise me the same thing Kazansky, I know you fly just like your dad and uncle. No funny business, unless necessary."

I know Jake means business, because he never calls me by my last name unless it's during work. I hold up my pinky finger in front of him, he takes mine with his pinky finger, and we both say, "I Promise."

It's almost time to go into the hangar, and we finally see Tate and Javy show up. I look over to Tate and wiggle my eyebrows at her, a discreet way of asking about what happened last night, and she just shakes her head no at me. I frown in response to her. Javy takes off to his hangar while the three of us walk into ours, and take our seats at our tables.

Once everyone has piled in and the work day begins we hear, "Attention on deck!" Our entire squad snaps up immediately out of our chairs. "At ease." Commander Davin says. "Todays training is going to be a little more rigorous than last weeks, there is a possibility we could end up deployed, in the coming weeks, and it's our job to make sure each and everyone one of you is ready for that."

Commander Davin looks around the room to each and everyone one of us, making brief eye contact with all of us. "Today you are going to be flying with your wingmen, your job today is to shoot me down before I shoot you down. It'll be no guns, only missiles.”He pauses.

"Hard Deck again is 5,000ft, if you break the hard deck you're out. If you're out, it's 100 push-ups. You'll see Dozen once you land. First group, Apollo and your Wingmen Bambi and Reno. The next group will be called after them, listen in over the radio, learn something."

And like that Commander Davin, callsign Jaws, Apollo, Bambi and Reno went out to their jets, did their checks and took off for dogfighting. From what we could all hear, Bambi was having a hard time shaking Jaws from his tail, while Reno was requesting help from Apollo.

Unfortunately for them, Jaws caught on to the fact that Apollo was going to be no help to his wingmen, and took off after him, getting him in missile lock immediately. Not long after that poor Bambi and Reno were caught in missile lock too, and all 3 of them returned to base, and began their 100 pushups.

The next group was Ditch, U.T.A. and Rudy. I honestly was hoping they wouldn't last in the air long, Ditch always left his wingmen, and was once found in a ditch, Uta always talked way too much, and Rudy was a rude ass, all of their names were fitting, and we just wanted them to get the shit show over with.

Within minutes of being in the sky, both planes were in missile lock, and heading back to the tarmac. We all knew that group needed to get it together, otherwise it was always going to end up this way.

Hangman, Villain and I were next. We did our checks and followed Jaws up into the sky. Jake was flying ahead of Villain and I, while Villain was watching the radar from my backseat, I searched all over the sky. "Do either of you see him anywhere?" I question both my WSO and wingman.

They both replied, "Negative Ghost." Suddenly we hear the sound of the Jaws theme music being sung through the headsets, and Villain turns to look for him, "Ghost, he's 7 o'clock low!" I heard from Villain. "Ghost, do you trust me?" I heard coming from Hangman, "With my life apparently." I responded back.

"Break left, swing back around!" I hear, and do as I'm told, as soon as I'm clear from his jet, Hangman hits his brakes and goes flying backwards behind Jaws, but not before Jaws whips around and is on my tail. "Hangman he's on me, get him off!" I yell.

"Break hard right Ghost!" I hear from Villain, and I break right, hoping this gives Hangman a chance to fall in behind Jaws and get him. "Come on Hangman, get him off me!" I yell back.

"Ghost remember trust me," I hear from Hangman, "Ghost fly up, brake now!" I again do as told flying up for altitude, and then hit my brakes as Jaws and Hangman fly past me, I swing around, and realize what Hangman has done, he's got me perfectly lined up to get Jaws in missile lock.

I take the shot and the tone comes out ringing in Jaws' ear. "Good job, Hangman, Ghost and Villain. Return to the tarmac, no pushups for you guys."

We return and park our jets in their spots, and walk back to the ready room to listen in to the last group of Dice, Ducky and Sunshine. They did pretty well in trying to get Jaws into missile lock, but unfortunately fell short, and ended up getting themselves caught.

If there was any other group in our squadron to be paired with on a deployment or mission, it would be this one, they communicate well and seem just as tight knit as Jake, Tate and I.

The rest of the week was pretty much about the same as the first day but each day getting more difficult, and practicing different things, one day was missiles, one day was guns, another was different aerial maneuvers, and then the last two day were putting them all together, and dealing with more than one bogey at a time.

It was now Friday afternoon and earlier this morning they had told all of us to meet back in the hangar after everyone finished their drills. We weren't allowed to have our phones on us while we were in the hangar, they had to be locked up in our lockers, so I couldn't text my dad to find out any more information.

Tate, Jake and I, had finished our round of flight training and drills and were already in the hangar, along with two other groups, we were just waiting for Ditch and his group to come back in from training. I nervously played with my hands waiting to find out what's going on.

Tate spoke up, "What do you think they want to tell us?" I looked up to meet Jake's green eyes who gave me a look to calm me down, before looking to Tate to reply, "My best guess is that they are either telling us we're getting deployed soon, or telling us everything has resolved itself."

About 20 minutes later Ditch's group came back, with annoyance and frustration on their faces, we could tell they had another day of getting their asses handed to them in the sky by Jaws. They take their seats as Jaws approaches the front of the room.

"As some of you may have noticed around the base, it's been quite a bit busier than normal." Some of us nod, and some you heard faint yeahs or mhmms. Jaws continues, "This is what we've been training you for, we've officially gotten orders that we are to be deployed."

My heart falls to my stomach, I'm excited because like Jaws said this is what we've been training for and this is what we signed up for, I just wasn't expecting it to come so soon.

"We have a carrier that we've lost communications to out in the Pacific Ocean. Our job while we are there is to provide air support to said carrier, while our communications crew goes aboard that ship to assess the problems and damages."

A few sighs of relief can be heard throughout the room, because this sounds just like a simple mission to provide cover to our crew. "We board the carrier starting Tuesday morning, so you have Saturday through Monday off, we'll meet back here in the hangar Tuesday morning at 0600 hours." Jaws continued. "You're dismissed for the day." Jaws finishes, while everyone gets up to leave.

The only thought I can process through my head as we walk out to Jake's truck is holy shit, we're actually being deployed. Coyote meets us at Jake's truck as he had promised to take Tate home, he looks over at me, while I'm still focused on the thought of being deployed. "Uh, Ghost you okay over there little buddy, you look like, well like you've seen a Ghost." Coyote says.

I blink a few times and try to push the thought out of my head, "Yeah I'm good, we just got word our Squad is being deployed Tuesday morning." I reply back to him leaning against the door of Jake's truck.

"Holy shit dude, do you guys know how long you'll be out there?" I just shrug, Jake chimes in, "Honestly we aren't certain, it sounds like a quick mission though. We are free for the entire weekend though, including Monday, maybe we should all meet up Sunday at the Wrecking Bar for a night out before we have to deploy."

We all agree to that and go our separate ways for the day, I climb into Jake's truck, and slide into the middle of the bench seat in Jake's truck. We both buckle up, and he looks over at me, "Kota you're a legendary flier, you've got nothing to worry about, this will be a breeze."

I sigh softly, "I know, I'm still nervous for it though, since it's our first deployment." Once he's got the truck in drive, he lifts up his right arm putting it behind me and around my shoulder, "Come here" he says while pulling me gently against him, and rubbing my arm softly. "Thank you." I mumble, before that damn thought gets stuck back in my head, deployed.

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summercourtship · 3 years

Note

Hi, could you write a nsfw oneshot or something for the Cenobite with a shy and modest fem survivor reader? Possibly include some fingering and using his hands. Thanks if you do!

I'm sorry this took so long, I obviously got a bit carried away. I have such a bad habit of needing SO MUCH exposition even for tiny one shots (or at least what are supposed to be tiny) but I’m not going to stop. I’m also not sure how well I fulfilled the idea of a “shy, modest” reader, but I think I managed to have elements of it without it becoming a stereotypical mess of stuttering and blushing.

summons [nsfw, 18+]

Pinhead (The Cenobite) x Reader | warnings: NSFW, reader could be interpreted as being a virgin but it’s not explicitly stated, I somehow made the Lament Configuration solving erotic (it’s what Clive Barker would want) | 3121 words

It was always unnerving to realize that a killer remembered you. To notice that shift in their expression as they placed your face to a memory, to an action that had made you stick out in their mind. Some killers seemed to remember everyone while others only recognized a select few. Some didn’t seem cognizant of doing either.

Luckily, you had always managed to fly under their radar. Even the killers that had memorized every survivor regarded you with an air of disinterest, preferring to go after the overtly obnoxious survivors (which was probably part of those survivors’ plans- Nea really hated fixing gens). Some could say that it was because you were boring, at least in the way of prey. You didn’t necessarily agree, but if killers thinking you were boring kept you alive you wouldn’t argue about it.

However.

There was one killer who seemed… overly interested in you because of this. Somehow your reserved nature was more intriguing to him than that of the unafraid or blatantly uncaring survivors. You didn’t understand it, but you also didn’t want to.

You didn’t want anything to do with it.

The Cenobite was an oddity among oddities- barely even touching the survivors and treating your suffering with a cold grace. In the few moments you’d been able to observe him, he seemed unaffected by anything, continuing his hunt seemingly without a care in the world.

When you were one of his designated playthings for a trial, you avoided the Box, even if it meant your continued survival. You couldn’t handle the thought of possibly summoning him, bringing the being you knew was somehow fascinated with you directly to your location.

You just did your damnedest to finish repairing gens and move on to the next trial with the usual indifferent killers, taking extra care to stealth when you knew he was coming. Because if he caught sight of you, he wouldn’t stop pursuing you throughout the trial, preferring to torment you than spread the pressure amongst your teammates.

But, despite your efforts, not every trial with him could work out this way, as was the case for the trial you found yourself in now. You had been just barely surviving through your stealth tactics when it seemed that the survivors were rapidly downed, one quickly falling after the other.

You rushed to pull them off hooks or patch them up enough to stand, only briefly hesitating when you felt your own safety was in danger. You pushed it aside, putting your team’s survival over your own sense of sanity. They would eventually pay you back in kind, and the cycle would continue.

But it seemed that luck was not on your side.

One, two, three survivors were all hooked for the last time, their cut off screams piercing the night air.

And suddenly, you were the only one left.

Somewhere, both too close and impossibly far away, a bell tolls.

You’re frozen in place, too on edge to even contemplate searching for the Hatch. You’d been in similar situations before, but this time felt different- it was as if the air was electrified from your nervous anticipation.

And never before had you been left alone with him.

Before long, the consequence of your hesitation becomes clear- the chains that he summons from nothing have started seeking you out, the few that reach you embedding their hooks in your skin. You hiss, jerking back into life and unhooking yourself, trying to be as careful as possible to not rip your skin off.

It would not be the worst pain you have felt in this place.

You set off, struggling through the terrain of the Macmillan Estate until you reach one of the smattering of brick walls that litter the Entity’s realms. Here, at least you would have some protection from the chains, giving you time to figure out what you were going to do next.

Find Hatch or wait by the Exit Gate, hoping he closes the Hatch with enough time for you to slip out? You’re debating the two options in your head, knowing full well it’s not the best use of your time but feeling unable to make a decision and get your feet moving.

You’d just mentally circled back around to the option of booking it for Hatch that you realize you were being observed. And he wasn’t even hiding like some of the others would, no crouching behind the brick or staying by the tree line. He’s simply standing there, as if waiting for you to realize he was there.

You look up at him, wondering how you hadn’t noticed his presence before. He blocks the only other exit from your shelter that isn’t a window, something you note with a growing sense of dread. No prey likes feeling cornered.

But he hasn’t moved to attack, just standing and staring at you. You take a moment to observe him back, noting the impassive expression on his face. He doesn’t move, even once you’d been made aware of him. You narrow your eyes and glare at him, ignoring the thwacking of the chains hitting the ground and walls behind you, already tired of whatever game he is playing, not in the mood to be toyed with.

“What do you want?” You ask, willing your voice to stop wavering. For once, you wanted to seem like the brave, outgoing survivor, willing to stand up to the killer for nothing more than the satisfaction of having done so.

A beat of silence, and you almost think he won’t answer. But he does, and his response is more confusing than clarifying.

“You.”

“I- I don’t understand.”

More silence.

Then, a crackling draws your attention downwards, to the small, unassuming box that lay on the ground in the space between you. The very box you had done your best to avoid touching, even looking at. You wonder, briefly, if it had been there the entire time.

“Solve it.” His voice is commanding yet gentle, coaxing yet sinister. There’s power behind it, a power that isn’t being utilized at the moment.

“No.” It’s an easy answer for you. There are few things you are sure of in the Fog, but not touching anything that belongs to a killer is one of them.

“Aren’t you curious?”

That was not what you had been expecting him to say. Suddenly, you were no longer sure about the subject of your conversation. The Box still lay between you, ready for your willing hands to run along its smooth surface, finding the small grooves that would lead you to further unlocking its mystery. But while you had been focusing on the Box, his eyes had never left you.

Because he knew that ultimately, yes. You were curious, and always had been. About everything, but you’d always been too shy, too afraid of other’s thoughts about you to try anything even mildly risky. Better to stay on the safe side and hear about other’s exploits instead of experiencing your own.

“Yes.” It comes out as a whisper.

“Then…” With a long fingered hand, he gestures to the Box.

Your hands shook as you reached down to pick it up, finding its smooth surface both warm and cool at the same time, its weight heavier than you had anticipated.

You looked back up at the Cenobite, ignoring the faint tinkling of a music box’s tune that you could now hear coming from the Box.

“What do I do?”

You were sure it couldn’t be but so difficult- less intelligent survivors had completed its puzzle under significantly more stressing circumstances than you. But you couldn’t bring your mind to command your hands to begin, some invisible wire holding your muscles back from taking action.

Maybe it was because he was standing in front of you, watching you intently.

He moved closer and you barely resisted the urge to move backwards, your grip on the Box tightening as if afraid he would take it from you. He stopped just before you and reached out, not to take the Box but to guide your hands. But instead of placing his hands over yours as you had anticipated, they hovered barely a centimeter above your skin.

“There is a force in this realm that makes solving the Lament Configuration child’s play.”

You look up at him, wondering if he had just delivered a thinly veiled insult. If he, in saying that solving it should be easy, was implying that you were too unintelligent to figure it out. You open your mouth to begin defending yourself.

“I-“

“You’ve refused it,” He continues as if you’d never started speaking, “even when it is to your detriment. But the Configuration is meant for those who seek to heighten their senses, for sensations that the earthly world cannot provide. Opening it is not supposed to be easy.”

You look down at your hands, at his.

“For those who summon us must be sure that it is what they want, for once we are summoned we cannot leave without a charge. It cannot be helped.”

He places his hands over yours now, guiding them along the edges of the Box (the Configuration, you correct yourself). Your hands are seemingly electrified from where his skin meets yours, though a sizable portion of his hand is covered in leather.

“Here it seems that, although alone, I work under different rules. The Box was made simpler and perverted into a means to assist in feeding this Entity.”

With his guidance, you are able to find the minuscule lines in the surface of the box, pushing and shifting the pieces until they form a completely new shape. But before you are able to push the final piece into place, thus completing the puzzle, he releases his hands and steps back.

“There is no need to finish it.”

You blink, feeling like you’d just woken from a hazy waking dream.

“But why did I do it in the first place?”

“I won’t have to hunt you down the next time we find ourselves facing each other. It is very tiresome when you hide from me constantly.”

He turns around like he’s about to go, either to finally kill you or let you scamper off to find the Hatch, but you aren’t ready for him to leave yet.

“Is that it?” You blurt out and almost take it back when he turns his head, indicating that you have his attention once more. But you swallow your fear and continue on, holding your chin higher. “You just wanted me to solve this box? To what? Prove to myself that I can, so that you don’t have to do as much work the next time you’re going to kill me?”

He whirls around, but there is barely any change in his expression from before. He was near impossible to read, you were quickly learning.

“I don’t get it- if you’re summoned for those who want pleasure or pain or whatever, why are you so interested in me? I don’t want any of that.”

“You don’t want pleasure?”

Your face heats up, any bravery you had felt in delivering your speech gone. You look down at your hands, still holding the almost solved Lament Configuration.

“The rules of this place may be different, but I am still obliged to answer the summons.” His words, at first, make no sense.

And then you realize what he is implying, and your face must be on fire for how hot it feels. If he was summoned for those who want whatever version of pleasure or pain he provided, then you solving the Configuration meant that he could…

Ohhhkay.

You turn from him, fully intending to put the box down and sprint for the Hatch and think about this encounter later at the campfire, but the quiet, nagging voice in the back of your head stops you.

Aren’t you curious?

Before you can rationalize and deny the urge, you act on impulse for once and press the final piece into place on the Box, the tinkling music stopping abruptly.

While you’ve had your back turned, he must’ve crept up closer on you, because you suddenly feel his hand on your shoulder.

You gasp, both from surprise and the sensation of his touch once again on you. He slowly ran his hand down your body, from your shoulder down your arm, before making its way to your front. Your breathing was picking up, hitching in the back of your throat when his other hand snuck around and plucked the box from your grasp. It’s gone when you turn your head to look at it, and you’re too focused on his touch to really ponder what happened to it.

You reach out and press your own hand against the brick wall in front of you, using the rough texture to ground yourself in reality, as much as you could in the hellish purgatory that you were trapped in. But the reality of this moment was that he was touching you in such a simple way, barely vulgar at all, but you felt as if you were being lit on fire with the way his touch seared your skin, even over the layers of your clothes.

His fingers dance over the hem of your pants, toying with the button. You’d always liked that the Entity put you in pants most of the time, their practicality better for your environment than the potential fashion statements you could’ve been making in something else. But now you wish that the Entity had decided to put you in one of the nonsensical outfits the others occasionally donned, if just for the easy access a skirt provides.

Nonetheless, he deftly undid the button and continued his journey down your body, not bothering to even pull your pants down. He completely ignored your underwear, apparently not in the mood to tease you over the fabric. You weren’t complaining, wanting whatever he was going to give you as quickly as possible.

It was now that you fully realized how cold his hands were, which only made you more aware of every centimeter of your skin that he ran his fingers along. Down over your stomach, a feather light touch that was approaching where you needed it the most.

The Cenobite found his way in between your legs with little fanfare, finally exploring the part of your body that, unbeknownst to you, he had thought of whenever he saw you in a trial. He toyed briefly with just running his touch up and down your slit, causing you to shudder and drop your head. But before long, he ended up at that sensitive bundle of nerves, flicking it just to hear you moan. His finger circled around your clit, applying just enough pressure for it to register in your mind but not enough to really scratch the itch that had been building since he’d placed his hands over yours to solve the box.

He was silent behind you, but you didn’t think he wasn’t actively enjoying what he was doing to you, if the way his teasing touches would briefly speed up when you let the little sounds building up behind your lips escape was any indication. Or the way his breathing, though quiet and low, would hitch when you would whimper, groan, hiss.

He finally moved lower, teasing at your entrance. You whimper again, closing your eyes. But he didn’t do anything aside from dipping his fingers in, for barely a second, giving you just a taste of the pleasure you needed. He teased more than you would have expected, but you also wouldn’t have expected him to want to fuck you.

“Please,” your whisper is broken, your mind hazy and unable to compose a more elegant plea. You curse under your breath when he does it again, moving back up to your clit to circle it a couple more times.

“You can do better than that,” He says, and you, in your fuzzy mind, think you detect a hint of humor in his voice.

“Fuck- please.” You roll your hips, as if to entice him to finally get to it. But he holds fast, your (pathetic) attempt to seduce him into giving in to your whims failing. He pauses in his movements.

“Fine! Please, please, please, please fuck me, put your fingers in me, I don’t care just please make me cum!”

You wonder, briefly, in the back of your mind, if the Entity is watching.

Two of his fingers finally slip into you, and you barely hold back a curse, forgetting whatever inane thought you had before. All you could focus on was the fact that he was finally giving you what you wanted, that he was finally done teasing.

He thrusts his fingers in and out of your pussy, dragging them along your walls and hitting every sensitive spot that you didn’t even realize existed within you.

“For such a shy woman, you make delightful sounds,” He mutters, almost too quiet for you to hear over the heartbeat pounding in your ears. Whether it’s yours or his, you cannot tell.

Quickly, much too quickly, you feel your climax approaching, and any sense of the amount of time you’ve spent at his mercy is lost to you. All you know is that he is touching you in a way that makes you feel like no one has ever made you feel and that you want to reach your peak now.

As it builds, you release a litany of pleas, begging with broken words and fragmented sentences.

You finally finish with a sharp, drawn out and shuddering gasp, his fingers curling into the spot that makes your toes curl, sharply punctuating every ripple of pleasure that your body rides.

And then, just as quickly as it started, it is over.

Taking a moment to catch your breath, you turn to face the Cenobite, who looks as unaffected as he had before. He examines his glistening fingers not even looking at you when he tells you to find the Hatch. If you’re stung by his sudden disinterest in you, you don’t show it, opting to add it to the growing mental list of things to think about later.

On shaky legs, you comply with his demand, stealing one last glance back at him as you leave him. You had no idea if this would be a one off occurrence, or if he would regularly find his own way to answer your summons, if he would make good on his statement that he is summoned for those who wish for pleasure and pain.

The only way to find out would be to summon him.

___

ao3 link

#pinhead x reader #pinhead #the cenobite #dead by daylight #hellraiser #lemon tag #request #ask #anon #oneshot #my writing #slasher x reader #I don't consider PH a slasher but eh it's a general label for some #thank you :3 #tumblr keeps trying to correct my spelling to the british spelling and that's Not Correct

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wondernimbus · 4 years

Text

two sworn enemies pt. 2 — draco malfoy

pairing: draco malfoy x female!reader

summary: maybe being fancied by draco malfoy isn’t so bad, after all.

requests are closed for now. please refrain from plagiarizing my work!

click here to read pt. 1!

"Why is it so bloody cold?"

[Y/N] is decked out in full winter apparel; a knitted Gryffindor sweater, ear-muffs, and a scarf that she has half of her face buried in.

Sitting in the Quidditch stands with the rest of her friends, she grumbles, "It's not even a Gryffindor match. We don't really have to be here freezing to death."

"Well, it's common courtesy," says Hermione, but she's just as cold as [Y/N] is; there's bits of snow stuck in her hair and the tip of her nose is pink.

Ron snorts loudly. “We’re here to watch Slytherin lose," he says matter-of-factly, still in the process of smearing streaks of blue paint across his cheek.

[Y/N] watches him, nose scrunched. "Well, aren't you the Ravenclaw fanatic."

He gives her a grin and holds out the small tub of paint. "Want some?"

She bunches up her lips in thought, then reaches out to take it. Annoyingly enough, Ron pulls back at the last moment, grinning wider than ever, and says, "Or d'you want to show support for your boyfriend Malfoy? Hermione, why don't you turn this green—"

[Y/N] dives over Hermione and Harry to smack Ron round the head, only for the pair to hold her back and push her into her seat.

Exasperated, Hermione huffs, "Honestly, Ronald, will you stop bringing that up?" She glares at him. "You know fully well [Y/N] doesn't like it."

Ron (and Harry, although he isn't as boisterous about it as the redhead), thinks that the "blond ferret" taking a fancying to her is one of, if not the most hilarious thing to have ever happened in history. Annoyingly enough, Ron has made it a habit to tease her about it every chance he gets—this one being one of them.

"If I didn’t know better, I’d have thought Ron fancied Malfoy with how much he talks about him," grins Harry. This earns him a smatter of blue paint across his face; Ron had flicked it at him.

With one last eye-roll, [Y/N] tears her gaze away from Ron and digs her nose further into her scarf. It really is very cold; snow is falling from the sky, seeping into her clothes, some landing on her hair and on her face. Thankfully there's not so much of it that the players on the pitch wouldn't be able to see around them, but still—[Y/N] imagines that it'd be a lot colder for them, having to fly around the stadium with the cold wind whipping at their robes.

There’s a buzz of loud chatter hanging in the air as conversations from all around them overlap over one another. The entire stadium is slowly filling up; students trickle into the stands, a majority of which have adorned themselves with blue accessories as a show of support to Ravenclaw. One side of the stands, however, is entirely green. Through the snow, she can see a big serpent-shaped balloon hovering over the Slytherin side.

"They’re coming out!" someone exclaims.

Sure enough, when [Y/N] looks down at the pitch, players from both teams have appeared and congregated at opposite ends of the pitch. Slytherin and Ravenclaw; whichever house wins will play Gryffindor for the house cup. Most bets are on Slytherin, but [Y/N] would have to be dead before she is caught anywhere supporting them.

"Look, it's [Y/N]'s boyfriend," gushes Ron.

More out of habit than anything, [Y/N] shoots the redhead yet another brief, scathing look. Draco Malfoy is there, even though he's nowhere near being her boyfriend, pale face set into a stoic expression of calm as he stands with the rest of his team, one hand on his broom and the other on his hip—and this specific image has her thinking back to what happened two weeks ago on this very same pitch, except the stadium was empty and it was only the two of them on the grounds; when he'd confessed to liking her.

As if Malfoy has somehow heard her thoughts over the noise of excited chatter coming from all over the stands, he looks up, eyes sweeping the seats in search for someone before finally, they land on her.

When he meets her gaze, [Y/N]'s breath isn't knocked out of her chest, nor does she start blushing madly. But she doesn't burn red with annoyance, either. All she does is stare at him, eyes narrowed, watching as his lips split into a wide grin and he raises his hand to wave at her.

She rolls her eyes, but thankfully—thankfully, the scarf tucked around her neck, reaching up to her nose, conceals the smile that tugs at her lips.

"May I ask everyone to please find themselves in their seats before the match begins," McGonagall’s voice echoes around the stadium, giving [Y/N] a reason to break eye contact.

She tears her stare away from Malfoy’s, inhaling a deep breath through her nose, feeling oddly exhilarated.

But this isn't anything new. That slight feeling of breathlessness, that unfamiliar sensation tickling at her stomach whenever she spots a certain someone in the hallway; she's been feeling it a lot lately, and though the cause seems to be pretty obvious, that is another thing she'd have to be caught dead before doing: admitting that she reciprocates some of Malfoy’s.. peculiar feelings.

"And they're off!" Dean Thomas announces. [Y/N] watches as the players soar high into the air until they're mostly level with the stands, a blur of blue and green robes rapidly zooming around the pitch. Slytherin is already in possession of the quaffle; not a surprise, considering Ravenclaw isn't exactly known for their exceptionally talented Quidditch team.

Malfoy, meanwhile—[Y/N] tells herself that the way her eyes dart around the pitch in search of a certain platinum blond is because she wants to watch the game properly and not for other reasons.

She spots him hovering somewhere above the rest of the players, face screwed up in concentration as his gaze moves around the pitch in search for the golden snitch. He looks even paler in winter, set against a backdrop of a cloudy sky and snow—

[Y/N] jars herself out of her thoughts and blinks, side-eyeing her friends (specifically Ron) to make sure they hadn't seen her.. observing the Slytherin seeker. (Not like it matters; it's not as though she fancies him, but Ron would certainly take it the wrong way.)

"Go Ravenclaw!" Ron practically screeches, waving his Ravenclaw banner in the air—when did he get that? "Kick Slytherin’s arse so Gryffindor can crush you in the finals!"

[Y/N] snorts. "Have it all thought out, don't you, Ron?"

"Go on and cheer for your Slytherin boyfriend, [Y/N], no one's stopping you," says Harry, grinning. She turns to face him, mouth open in disbelief, and lets out a quick breath of incredulous laughter.

"So, Harry," [Y/N] says, suddenly deadpan. ”I see you've chosen Ron’s side."

Harry snickers, then shrugs.

"Oh, Malfoy’s seen the snitch!" someone shouts from beside them. [Y/N] turns back to the game to see Malfoy zooming down the pitch, clutching the front of his broom as he swerves past Slytherin and Ravenclaw players alike in pursuit of the tiny golden ball all the way on the other side of the stadium, where [Y/N] and her friends are sat. He has the upper hand—Ravenclaw's seeker is only just now starting to fly after him, but she's a good distance behind and Malfoy is gaining speed.

"He’s gonna catch it!"

"Ravenclaw's even worse than I thought," grumbles Ron, slumping down in his seat.

But just as Malfoy passes by them, somehow, despite the fact that he is in pursuit of the bloody golden snitch and on the brink of securing victory for his team, he slows down just the tiniest bit, and then, in true Malfoy fashion—theatric as always in his displays of affection—he catches her eye and yells “This one's for you, [Y/N]!”, a grin on his face before he hurtles down the pitch, stretching out his hand towards the fluttering snitch—

"Malfoy’s got the snitch!" Dean Thomas screams into his microphone. "Slytherin wins!"

[Y/N] stares, feeling oddly warm despite the wintry weather, as Malfoy spins around in mid-air, triumphantly holding up the snitch for the rest of Hogwarts to see.

"Blimey," gapes Ron, wide-eyed, staring not at the Slytherin seeker but at [Y/N]. "That was—"

[Y/N] looks away from Malfoy to meet Ron's gaze, maintaining indifference. "He’s quite the charmer, isn't he?" she mutters, and hopes that her friends will think that the blush on her cheeks is because of the cold and not because of something—someone else.

But that's ridiculous. It is because of the cold, isn't it?

"It may be Malfoy," says Ron slowly, shaking his head, "But you can't deny that was bloody romantic. Felt like I was watching something out of one of those Muggle films."

"Yeah, we'll have to ask him for tips," says Harry, and starts laughing when [Y/N] rolls her eyes in response.

—

Malfoy may have stopped sending her Howlers, but that hardly matters because he has found every other way to pester her.

This includes consistently yelling out her name and shouting random pick-up lines every time he spots her in the hallway, as well as sending people to do her bidding—no longer first-years, but Crabbe and Goyle, who show up at random intervals everyday presenting her with a batch of different pastries. She always sends the pair off, but only after Ron and Harry accept said pastries for themselves.

"Blimey, this is heavenly!" gushes Ron, taking a passionate bite off of his second red velvet cupcake. "You sure you don't want a bite, [Y/N]? Hermione?"

[Y/N] offers him an exasperated smile. "No, thank you, Ron."

"Don’t thank me, thank your boyfriend."

The four of them walk into the dingy Potions classroom. Snape is nowhere to be seen, but it's only a matter of time before he swoops in all bat-like, so [Y/N] and Hermione quickly take a seat at their regular desk, right next to Ron and Harry.

"Have you done your homework?" asks Hermione, pulling out an assortment of parchment from her bag.

[Y/N] hums in response. "I doubt mine is half as good as yours, but hopefully I’ll scrape an acceptable."

"Oh, you're a good student, [Y/N]. Don't bring yourself down."

"Hard not to when I’m sitting next to the brightest witch in our year," she nudges Hermione’s shoulder, smiling. Hermione huffs, rolling her eyes, but it's clear by the pleased look on her face that she doesn't hate [Y/N]'s honest flattery as much as she lets on.

[Y/N] drums her fingers on the desk to pass time, not quite paying attention to the students filtering into the classroom. Or at least not until one of them calls her name and drawls, "Is someone sitting here?"

[Y/N]'s head snaps around to see none other than Malfoy, gesturing to the desk to the left of hers and Hermione’s. "Mind if I,” he pauses, grinning, "Slytherin?"

She purses her lips into a thin, tight line, inhaling deeply as she fights to keep her cool. Yes, there are times when Malfoy's gestures have her questioning her own hatred for him, but this—this is not one of them.

"That," she says, voice mostly level. "Is your seat, Malfoy. I don’t see why you have to ask me."

Which is a lie. [Y/N] knows why, of course. To get her attention. To woo her. But part of her wishes that Malfoy would realize that everything he is doing, from the overbearing pick up lines to the cupcakes to his constant public declarations of love, isn't something that [Y/N] thoroughly enjoys. Does she want him to stop yelling at her in the hallways? Yes. Does she want Crabbe and Goyle to stop bumbling up to her everywhere she goes (outside of the girl's bathroom is one example) offering cupcakes and pie and tarts? Yes. But does she want Malfoy to stop trying entirely?

Maybe not. Maybe part of her wants to give him a chance. He does seem to truly hold feelings, judging from his confession back at the Quidditch stadium, unless he's a terribly good actor.

And it wouldn't just be him she'd be giving a chance, either. Perhaps she'd also be doing so to herself. Because, over the past month, it's baffled her how quickly her feelings for him have shifted. Or maybe it's not a change of feelings, but rather realization that under all that sneering and pureblood prejudice, Draco Malfoy is a boy.

An annoyingly attractive one.

But there is so much more that [Y/N] dislikes about him. His snootiness. His arrogance. His lack of consideration for other people's feelings. He may be tall and lithe and undeniably handsome, and he may have very soft-looking platinum blond hair and stormy grey eyes like dark clouds, but he is also a prick. And that wins over everything else, no matter how.. visually pleasing he is.

So when a paper bird flutters in front of her halfway through the lesson, when Snape’s back is turned, [Y/N] hesitates. She knows fully well who it's from, despite not having to look to the side and meet his gaze.

From beside her, Hermione whispers, "Get rid of it, before Snape sees."

Exhaling, [Y/N] snatches the paper bird and quickly unfolds it.

She doesn't know what she's expecting to see, but it's certainly not the words "meet me at the Astronomy tower after dinner" scribbled across the parchment. And with a drawing of a face blowing kisses, no less.

[Y/N] sighs.

—

[Y/N] has no real feelings for Malfoy, so succumbing to his mysterious evening request at the Astronomy tower shouldn't mean anything.

Scratch that: it doesn't mean anything. Not to her. (Or so she tells herself.) This is a chance for her to tell Malfoy to sod off and to stop courting her. And for good, this time. No matter what that annoying little voice inside her head tells her, she can't possibly even consider the idea of actually giving in to him. (And to herself.)

So she's going to put a stop to it, once and for all.

"I’m going," she decides over dinner, slamming her palms down on the table.

"Going where?" asks Harry.

"The Astronomy tower," she replies resolutely.

"What, to go star-gazing?" Ron snickers. [Y/N] glances at him and realizes, quickly, that telling them had slipped her mind—she'd been far too preoccupied with her own conflicting thoughts.

She shifts in her seat. She doesn't necessarily need to tell them, does she? It's not as though it's important enough to share. And besides, Ron would only badger her about it. Mercilessly. [Y/N] can already picture him in her head, talking about Malfoy and snogging under the stars and Merlin-knows-what-else.

"Nevermind," says [Y/N], taking a bite out of a muffin and looking away. They don't need to know; it's not as though it's important.

—

After [Y/N] has walked up all of the stairs to get there, only taking one or two shortcuts, she's out of breath, but she creeps into the Astronomy tower anyway. It’s mostly dark save for the faint moonshine filtering in from the open sides, and, well—there he is.

Malfoy’s arms are crossed over his chest, his back mostly turned as he stands dangerously close to the railing, looking out over the dark landscape. Dim light catches on the side of his face, illuminating the grey of his eyes.

The curve of his nose.

Pale skin.

White-blond hair.

[Y/N] finds herself staring, one hand on the doorframe as though for support, brows furrowed in the middle in a slight frown as she watches him.

He looks lost in thought. Even from a few feet away, [Y/N] can see the far-off, distant look in his eyes. Like storms brewing behind dark clouds, she thinks to herself. It’s a quiet little whisper in the back of her mind that has her heart doing odd little flips inside of her chest that she never knew it was capable of.

But then she blinks.

This is the last thing [Y/N] needs. To see Malfoy stripped of his arrogance—to see him as he is, bathed in moonlight, glowing, almost. To look at him and to see a boy with eyes like molten silver and nothing more—it's the last thing she needs to convince herself that she doesn't feel something for him that isn't hatred.

No, she doesn't need this.

She turns around, breath caught in her throat, and starts walking down the steps. Accidentally, stupidly, her foot catches on a metal step and a loud clang echoes around the silent tower.

[Y/N] pauses, eyes wide.

"[Y/N]?" Malfoy's voice says. He can't see her. It’s too dark, and [Y/N] is too far down the steps.

She swallows. But instead of dreading what could come, she finds herself waiting, half-hoping that he'd check the staircase, that he would see her and—

And then what?

[Y/N] rushes down the steps, ignoring the loud noise her footsteps make on the way. This is the last thing she needs.

—

[Y/N] doesn't like Malfoy.

[Y/N] doesn't like Malfoy, and she is determined to make that clear. (Both to herself and to her friends, although the former seems to be taking a lot more convincing.)

"What is there to like about him? He’s nothing but an annoying pain in the arse who has an overwhelming amount of pride and arrogance simply because of his blood—which is not only something that he never rightfully earned but is also something that shouldn't even bloody matter, except he thinks that it does solely because he is an absolute nutter who has nothing better to do with his life other than leech off of his parents' money and shove it in other people's faces."

Ron meets Harry’s gaze from across the table, who seems to be trying very hard not to laugh. Swallowing down a forkful of pancakes, Ron looks back at [Y/N]. "I’m sorry," he begins slowly. "But remind me again why we're talking about Malfoy?"

"I’m not finished, Ronald," [Y/N] snaps, shooting him a dirty look. Ron raises his eyebrows. "As I was saying before someone so rudely cut me off, Malfoy is a nasty little git who finds joy in making other people suffer. he probably has tiny puppies locked up inside his basement just so he can laugh in their faces and revel in their misery because he is that horrible of a person—"

Harry lurches with poorly suppressed laughter.

"An absolute terrible excuse for a human being! He basks in other people's humiliation—mine, for example!—and I would much rather snog the Giant Squid than ever actually consider his—" She pauses, gritting her teeth. "Odd.. requests."

"It’s not like he's asking you to murder house-elves," Ron mutters.

"Something that I would rather do than date him!"

"[Y/N]!" Hermione gasps, looking genuinely offended as she, for the first time since they'd arrived at the Great Hall for breakfast, looks up from the homework she's rushing to finish. (As if her five pieces worth of parchment aren't enough—Flitwick had only asked for three!)

"Sorry, Hermione," [Y/N] says, offering her an apologetic look that she only half-means. This quickly turns into a fierce look of challenge as she swivels back around in her seat to face the redhead sitting next to her. "Honestly, since when have you started defending Malfoy?"

Ron blanches. "I’m not defending him!" he says indignantly, setting his fork down on his plate. "It’s just.. yeah, it's a bit odd that he's declaring his undying love for you out of bloody nowhere, but he's stopped badgering us, hasn't he? Nasty little ferret hasn't said a word to Harry for weeks! And that goes for me and Hermione, too!"

[Y/N] narrows her eyes at him. "So you think it's great that he's stopped annoying you at the cost of my suffering?"

"What suffering!" Ron exclaims. "He’s been treating you like a bloody princess!"

"Oh, why don't you just snog him yourself, then, if you think so highly of him?"

Ron’s jaw drops in shocked offense.

"Alright, that's enough!" Harry announces, reaching over the table to shove the two apart from each other. "Why doesn't one of you switch seats with me before you end up strangling each other?"

"I don't know, Harry," [Y/N]'s lip curls. "I might have to hold Ron back before he goes running off to his ferret prince—or should we just let him? Merlin knows he'd love to, won't you, Ronald?"

Ron’s teeth are gritted; his eyes dart around the food on the table as though looking for the most effective weapon. He seems to be choosing between a green apple and rhubarb pie.

Thankfully, Ron never gets to take his pick. The bell rings, saving everyone in the Great Hall from witnessing what could have possibly been a brawl between friends. "Come on, let's go," says Harry quickly, relief evident in his tone of voice as he ushers the pair to their feet. "Wouldn’t want to be late for class."

—

[Y/N] doesn't like Malfoy.

[Y/N] doesn't like Malfoy, but why does she find herself staring at him whenever she comes across him in the hallway the next day? Why, when Malfoy meets her gaze, does she look away and pretend to be immersed in something else?

And why in the bloody hell, when Malfoy playfully winks at her during Potions class, does she find it very, very hard not to smile?

She walks out of the dungeon classroom in a hurry with Ron, Harry, and Hermione, not wanting to spend a minute more in Malfoy's presence; she doesn't particularly enjoy being suddenly hyperaware of every move he makes, every little glance he sends her way when he thinks she isn't paying attention. It’s as though something in her system has gone awry. Is that why her heart feels like it's about to hop right out of her chest? Is that why she can't stop wondering what would've happened if she'd stayed at the Astronomy tower?

"Hey, wait up!” Harry calls loudly as they walk up the stone steps leading away from the dungeons and into the main hallway, which is bustling with students.

[Y/N], who had been walking far too fast in front of the three, looks back over her shoulder and sees that they're a few feet away. She stops, seemingly flustered, and waits for them to catch up.

"You look like you've wet your pants," says Ron.

"I’m not you, Ron," she retorts.

"Oh, can you two please stop bickering for once?" says Hermione, exasperated.

From behind the three, Draco Malfoy emerges from the potions classroom and begins walking up the stone steps. [Y/N]'s hands clench into fists at her side as she discretely presses her back to the stone wall at her sides.

The blond doesn't even as much as glance at Ron, Harry, and Hermione as he passes by them on the steps. [Y/N], however—once Malfoy has reached the step below the one she's standing on, he pauses, no less than two feet away from her, and quirks an eyebrow.

"What?" [Y/N] scowls, trying not to look at the strand of blond hair dangling in front of his eyes.

Malfoy’s gaze dances over her face. "Was it you?"

She meets her friends' eyes over Malfoy's shoulder. Ron and Harry have their eyebrows raised; Hermione looks concerned. [Y/N] takes a moment to compose herself—tries to force her heart back into her chest—before she folds her arms across her chest and looks at the Slytherin. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"At the Astronomy tower," Malfoy says, and moves up one step so that he's standing on the same one she's on. A foot away. "I heard someone last night, while I was waiting for you."

Oh, Merlin.

"You came, didn't you?" he presses on.

"No," [Y/N] lies, and hates how defensive she sounds. She shifts a little on her feet, her eyes skirting away to look at a random spot behind Malfoy. "I was.. at the library. Doing things of actual importance."

There’s a slight pause as Malfoy's nose wrinkles. "Must’ve been someone else spying on me, then," he finally says through a scoff, but [Y/N] knows disappointment when she sees it. He rolls his shoulders back and puts on his signature smirk, inclining his head towards her as he takes another step up the stairs. "Better hurry and give me an answer, [Y/N]," he tells her, grinning. "Before one of my admirers get to me first."

[Y/N] watches as he walks up the steps and disappears into the hallway.

"The library?" a voice says incredulously. She turns back to Ron, whose face is scrunched in disbelief. "No, you weren't! We were waiting for you there and you never came."

[Y/N] folds her arms across her chest indignantly but doesn't respond, instead walking up the stone steps.

"Malfoy said he was waiting for you at the Astronomy tower," says Hermione slowly as they trail after her; [Y/N] speeds up her pace. "Is that why you mentioned going there during dinner last night?"

[Y/N] emerges into the main corridor first. "No, I didn't."

"Yes, you did!" bursts Ron, sounding downright triumphant.

"Congratulations, Ron, you don't have the memory range of a teaspoon, after all," [Y/N] mutters, looking around. Malfoy is walking down the hallway a few feet ahead of them, Crabbe and Goyle at his side.

Ron ignores her. "I bet you did go. I bet you did spy on him—" And then he gasps, looking as though he's unearthed the secret of life. "Merlin’s beard, you really do fancy him, don't you?"

[Y/N]'s footsteps falter. Ron, Harry, and Hermione stop right with her.

Hermione is the only one who doesn't look stunned out of her mind. Looking between the two boys, she rolls her eyes and scoffs. "Honestly, is that so hard to believe?" says Hermione, frowning. "I understand that it's Malfoy and he is a prick, but [Y/N] is perfectly entitled to fancy whoever she likes." She turns to [Y/N]. "It’s fine, [Y/N], you don't have to feel guilty about it. Anyone would catch feelings if someone started doing such sweet things for them, even if it were someone like Malfoy."

"Blimey," says Harry, breathless. "Which part sealed the deal, [Y/N]? The pick-up lines? Or was it the cupcakes?"

[Y/N], who had been opening and closing her mouth like a fish blown out of water, finally stops trying to find words that just aren't there and instead drags her palm across her face in frustration. "I don't.." she says, sounding defeated, but really—now that she's faced with such confrontation, it's easier to admit to herself that maybe.. maybe she does fancy Malfoy.

Ron’s lips have split into a jubilant grin. ”I called it!" he says, smacking Harry's shoulder. "Bloody knew it!"

Hermione reaches out to rub [Y/N]'s back. "Don’t feel too bad about it, [Y/N]. I sort of knew—you looked at him differently after he confessed to you on the pitch."

[Y/N] sighs, realizing that no amount of denying it will convince her friends. Or herself.

She does fancy Malfoy.

Properly acknowledging it—finally admitting it to herself—is oddly relieving. She’s been keeping her feelings cooped up inside of her chest despite the fact they are so much bigger than her, and now that she's letting them burst free.. now that she's coming to terms with them..

Well. It’s not the worst feeling ever.

Ron is still beaming, looking as though he's won the lottery. And apparently, in a way, he has: "Fred and George said it'd take you a month longer to give in. I said it'd take you less—guess I’ve won myself two galleons!"

[Y/N]'s mouth falls open. "You bet on this?"

Ron raises his eyebrows, as though surprised to hear that she didn't know. "Uh, I and the entire bloody castle."

Struck by a sudden burst of both annoyance and confidence, [Y/N], scowling, detaches herself from her friends and strides down the hallway towards Malfoy, full of intent. He hasn't noticed her yet; his back is still turned, but she catches up to him easily. And when she does, she unceremoniously bumps her shoulder into his and grabs his hand, quickly interlacing her fingers through his.

"What the hell—"

Malfoy, obviously taken aback, tries to pull his hand away, sneering, until his gaze lands on [Y/N].

"Keep walking, Malfoy," she says scathingly, not quite looking at him.

Baffled, Malfoy stares at her, then down at their hands, which are now tightly interlocked between them. [Y/N] scowls resolutely at the hallway ahead of her.

And then Malfoy laughs, more out of disbelief than amusement.

"Keep walking," [Y/N] repeats, this time turning to look at him, fighting to keep her gaze indifferent. The last thing she wants Malfoy to know is that there is an onslaught of tiny little butterflies rampaging in her stomach and a tingly feeling spreading from their hands all the way up her spine and into her heart.

Malfoy’s lips tug up into a wide grin—a real one, [Y/N] thinks. Not an arrogant smirk or a deprecating sneer; one that she can't ever recall seeing. But now that she has, she finds herself wishing he'd do it more often.

[Y/N] tugs him along as she walks, feeling the stunned stares of her friends boring into her skull from behind. (Ron is going to have a field day about this.)

"So," Malfoy begins, and she doesn't have to look at him to know that he's still grinning down at her. "Changed your mind, haven't you?"

[Y/N] rolls her eyes; she doesn't fail to notice the way that the students they're passing by are staring at them, eyes wide, whispering to themselves. "Isn’t this what you wanted?"

Malfoy shrugs. "Among other things."

She side-eyes him, muttering, "Does that include snogging?"

He makes an amused sound at the back of his throat. "You said it, not me."

[Y/N] has to grit her teeth to stop the corners of her lips from tugging up. They turn a corner down the hallway, disappearing from both their friends' views (assuming they haven't followed them). At this thought, [Y/N] takes a brief glance over her shoulder—and sure enough, there's a redhead peeking out of a group of very confused Ravenclaws.

Cursing Ron Weasley inside her head, she turns her gaze back ahead of her. ”I have Charms class next."

Malfoy raises his brows. "And what do you expect me to do with that information?"

"Walk me there," says [Y/N] briskly.

She can practically feel the surprise radiating off of the blond next to her. A moment later, he throws his head back in a loud laugh. "And you want me to be late to Transfiguration? It’s all the way on the other side of the castle."

[Y/N] hums. "Can’t even do that for the girl you fancy?"

There’s a beat of silence. His grip on her hand falters a little as he says, voice still nonchalant and yet at the same time holding an undeniable sense of sincerity, "I could if I knew she wasn't leading me on."

"She isn't," [Y/N] says, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye.

Malfoy is staring at her with his brows pulled in together just slightly at the middle, giving off the impression that he's trying to decide whether or not she's being serious. He slows down his pace until he comes to a full stop, urging [Y/N] to halt alongside him until they're standing in the middle of the hallway, oblivious to the stares following them and the redhead a mere few feet away.

"How do I know this isn't a prank?" says Malfoy, lip slowly curling as he narrows his eyes at her, the first few traces of suspicion etching itself onto his face now that the whole ridiculousness of the situation has finally sunken in. [Y/N] can't blame him; her antics—suddenly marching up to him in the hallway, grabbing his hand and walking with him as though they've been doing it for years—all of it is uncalled for after having ruthlessly turned him down so many times before. But [Y/N] can't delve into a discussion of her conflicting emotions—at least not right now—so she hopes, at least for now, that he will take her word for it.

She clears her throat. "Well," she begins, looking down at their hands; Malfoy’s grip has gone slack. "If I wanted to hold your hand, I’d do it because I wanted to. Not because I wanted to get a rise out of you." She lets her gaze go back up to his, brows rising in familiar challenge. "I don't stoop that low, Malfoy. You’ve been in love with me for years—shouldn't you know that by now?"

There are a few seconds in which the blond standing before her still looks at her with a scrutinizing gaze, lips set into a thin, hard line and his eyes swimming with conflict that [Y/N] wouldn't have been able to see from afar, but sees in perfect clarity now that she's standing a mere foot away from him. But then, after what feels like ages, Malfoy nods, slowly, frown smoothing out into an expression of—could that be relief?

"I will be late for Transfiguration, you know," he says, lips quirking up into a grin.

[Y/N] laughs. (A real one, Draco thinks to himself.) This time she doesn't try to stop herself from smiling; just lets her lips do so of their own accord. It feels nice. Freeing. "Better just one of us than two, don't you think?" she says, mirroring his playful grin. "And besides, Goyle can stand in for you. You two do have quite the resemblance."

"Oh, sod off."

And it really is very odd, because everything about this shouldn't feel right; they've been enemies for the longest time, and a year ago, [Y/N] would have been revolted at the mere idea of ever coming close to Draco Malfoy—but it does. That is, it feels right. Like they've been this way for ages and this playful, harmless banter is the most natural thing.

Draco isn't perfect—Merlin, does he have a long way to go—but if he means to stop being a prat as long as [Y/N] is at his side, then she is willing to venture into whatever has formed between them.

And if this little bond is going to involve any more of this—this being her and Draco exaggeratedly swinging their arms between them as he walks her to Charms class with their fingers still intertwined, snickering, waiting for one of them to start complaining about their arm sockets hurting—then maybe it isn't the worst thing ever, after all.

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reid-fiction · 4 years

Text

A Progression of Touch

In which Spencer doesn’t like to touch people until you come along and then he can’t help himself

A/N: Look at me, dropping stories like flies. Also, I’ve been staring at this gif for far too long...

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

He doesn’t like to touch other people.

He knows it, you know it, the whole F.B.I. knows it. He told you as much the first time he met you by the way he awkwardly refused to shake your hand. Though he compensated with a friendly smile and a wave, you knew you were in for a ride with Dr. Spencer Reid.

It wasn’t that he thought you were diseased. He just knew too much about germs and the human body to risk it, especially around cold and flu season which was exactly when he met you. It was bad enough that Garcia had dragged him to the Christmas party to begin with - there were so many people in close quarters, who knew what viruses were floating around - but he wasn’t a big fan of mingling and small talk either. And that was exactly what Penelope was forcing him into when he got his first glimpse of you.

As soon as you had five minutes with Spencer under your belt, you knew you wanted a lot more time with him. He was unlike any person you had ever met and he fascinated you, especially his aversion to touch.

A few months later, when Spencer finally bit the bullet and asked you on a date (after much prompting and borderline bribery from Garcia and multiple other team members she had coerced into helping her), he knew that his no touching rule was not going to fly for very long. He didn’t know much about relationships, but he did know that physical touch was a pretty important factor to most women. Though you never pushed him, he could tell that you were holding back for his benefit. He could see it in your eyes every time he dropped you off after a date. In most scenarios, a kiss goodnight would be expected - you wanted it, he could sense it - but it felt like you were the wrong side of a magnet that he just couldn’t get himself close to.

This was a problem, because he was falling for you and he was going to have to do something about it.

Spencer knew that going the 0-100 method wasn’t going to work for him. He couldn’t just jump from not touching you at all to getting hot and heavy in the backseat of a car. But, gradual steps may work. If he eased himself in to getting acquainted with touching you, he could both push himself out of his comfort zone and give you a bit of the physical contact that you were clearly craving.

-----

It started with a hug.

One night, after walking you to your front door, you could tell that Spencer was concentrating on something and it wasn’t your current conversation. You were rambling on about some TV program you had seen the other night, and you knew he wasn’t listening to a word you were saying.

“Hey, you okay?”

He glanced up at you, frowning, as if he had just remembered you were standing there.

“Yeah, fine. Why?”

“I dunno,” you shrugged, wrapping your arms around yourself after catching a gust of chilly air. “You just seem...far away. Distracted.”

He paused, pursing his lips at your accusation, and you suddenly felt extremely vulnerable under his gaze.

“Is something wrong? Did I...did I do something? I mean, are you -”

“No!”

The suddenness of his reply caused you to jump, and he let out a nervous chuckle before running a hand through his hair.

“No, it’s not you at all. I’m sorry, you’re right. I am distracted.”

“Well...about what? Maybe I can help.”

He paused again, and then smiled. “Yeah, maybe you can. Would you be able to just...stand still for a second?”

The strange nature of his request caused you to frown a bit, but you simply nodded and watched him with curiosity. A few seconds later, he slowly started to to move a few steps closer and raise his arms slightly. You had absolutely no idea what he was doing, but you didn’t move a muscle. His arms eventually found their way to rest lightly on the sides of you waist and then started to wrap around your torso.

Your stomach instantly flipped. This was the first time Spencer had ever touched you beyond the occasional brush of your shoulders when you moved past him, or a playful kick to his leg when he beat you at chess. It had been two months of weekly dates, dinners, museum trips and evenings of sitting and talking until you were both too tired to form coherent sentences but, as much as you loved those times with him, you’d by lying if you said you never wished that he would throw caution to the wind once in a while and toss an arm around you or caress the side of your face with his fingers.

Now, just the feeling of his hands on your back was like opening up a can of worms that had been wriggling in desperation for weeks, and you certainly hoped that this wasn’t a one time thing, because there was no way you’d ever be able to put those worms back in the can after this.

He took another step toward you and circled his arms tighter around your back. You knew he had asked you not to move, but you couldn’t hold back any longer. You slowly raised your own arms until they were resting on his shoulders and then, when he didn’t protest, you wrapped them around his neck and leaned in until your head was nestled just below his collarbone. He tensed up only a moment before you felt him lean his head in the crook of your neck.

You weren’t sure how long you stood there, holding each other. It could have been a few minutes, it could have been a few hours. You didn’t care, all that you knew was that you never wanted him to let go.

-----

After the hug, his next target were your hands.

Although Spencer was keenly aware of just how many germs the human hand picked up throughout the day, he was determined to overcome his aversion. You were clean and had good hygiene habits, he knew that. He had been hugging you every time he saw you since that first night, how much more difficult could holding your hand be?

It was during a movie he wasn’t really paying attention to that he finally made his move. Lately, his go-to move during movies was to carefully put his arm around you and rest his hand on your shoulder. He was completely comfortable with that movement now and really thought nothing of it anymore. He could tell that you enjoyed it as well, so he was more than happy to oblige you and suggest a movie night as often as possible.

Tonight, however, he had different ideas. He purposely kept his arm at his side for the first half of the film, and he knew that you noticed. Truthfully, you had come to expect the motion now and were slightly disappointed when it didn’t happen as soon as the opening credits started to roll, but it wasn’t long until you figured out why.

You thought it was an accident at first. You had both of your hands resting in your lap and had your eyes focused on the movie when you felt it. The lightest, softest brush of skin against your own. Your hand twitched involuntarily and you silently cursed yourself for probably scaring him away. But, a minute or so later, it happened again. Still soft, still tentative, but it lingered.

You stealthily flicked your gaze down to your lap and saw Spencer’s hand hovering just slightly over your own. You weren’t entirely sure what he was aiming for, but you kept your hand deathly still while you waited. His hand finally came to rest on your thigh and the side of his palm rested lightly against your own. You watched as his pinkie brushed up over the back of your hand, then another finger, and another, and another, until his whole hand was on top of yours. You opened the spaces between your fingers in hopes that he would lace his own through, and you weren’t disappointed. His fingers slid between yours like butter and you felt him squeeze your palm and slowly caress the back of your hand with his thumb.

It was your idea to shuffle closer to him, lift his arm with your hands still intertwined, and loop it over your shoulder. He glanced over to you, smiled, and squeezed your hand again.

You wished you had picked a longer movie. Truthfully, so did he.

-----

The idea of kissing you was terrifying.

Spencer had kissed and been kissed before, but it wasn’t a common occurrence and it hadn’t ever been with someone he truly cared about. It was one thing for two body parts to come together in what science called a kiss, it was a whole other thing for that kiss to mean something. The last thing Spencer wanted was for him to screw up a potentially important moment in your relationship because he was hesitant or overly paranoid.

He also had no idea how to know when the “right” moment was, if there was such a thing. Hugging was easy now, holding your hand was routine - he could do those at really any time, in any location, in any circumstance, and it wouldn’t be considered awkward or weird - but kissing was different. It was intimate, it was private, and it required more thought.

It had taken him weeks, but he finally had a plan in mind. It was elaborate and detailed - as most of Spencer’s ideas were - and he knew exactly what he was going to say and do leading up to the moment.

However, what he wasn’t betting on was the sudden, overwhelming, spontaneous desire that came over him one evening while you were sitting in his apartment. You hadn’t been doing anything out of the ordinary; you had gone out to dinner, walked back to his place, and had plans to spend the rest of the night talking, maybe doing a puzzle or playing a game, and then you would go home like you always did.

But it was something about the way you laughed after he told you a funny story that happened at work that day. It was the way your eyes locked on his every time he spoke, and the way you looked so intensely interested in every single thing he was saying, even if you didn’t understand all of it. It was the way you leaned into him when he pointed out something in a book he was holding, and the way he could smell your shampoo - vanilla with a hint of lavender - when you got close to him. It was the way your hand rested lovingly on his back while he read a passage to you and the way you absentmindedly twirled your hair as you listened.

He needed to kiss you, and he needed to do it immediately.

He didn’t care that it didn’t fit into his plan, he didn’t care that it wasn’t exactly what he pictured, and he didn’t care that he hadn’t prepared himself for it. The only thing he could think of was the shape of your lips and his intense need to know what they felt like on his own.

So, he went for it.

It wasn’t slow, it wasn’t subtle, and it was probably the messiest thing he had ever done. He put the book down on the table, looked over at you, grabbed the sides of your face and pulled you to him. You were initially frozen in shock - the last thing you had expected that night was for Spencer to kiss you, let alone like this - but you could feel the intensity and desperation as his lips moved over yours, and that was enough to thaw your surprise and trigger your response instinct. You put one hand behind his head and pulled him impossibly closer to you, scooting to the very edge of your seat.

His hands dropped from your face and landed on the tops of your thighs before he slid them up to your waist and you could feel him start to tug you closer. There was nowhere for you to go other than practically on top of him, and you knew there was no way he wanted you to do that.

Was there?

As much as it pained you to do so, you momentarily broke the kiss to catch your breath.

“Wow.”

Spencer chuckled, still gripping your waist.

“Sorry,” he said, “I guess I just...couldn’t wait anymore.”

“Oh, don’t apologize!” you said, a little too enthusiastically. “It was great, and I wouldn’t have stopped you, it’s just...”

Spencer studied you, and brought one hand up to the side of your face again.

“Just, what?”

“It’s nothing, I guess I just wondered - I mean, I wasn’t sure how far you wanted to...you know...go. I don’t want you to feel like you need to do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

Spencer smiled, and you felt him tug you closer again. You gave him a questioning look, and he nodded.

“C’mere,” he said. “It’s okay.”

You tentatively stood and took a step closer to him before he gently guided you down until you were straddling his lap. You exhaled a breath of nerves as you seated yourself and brought your hands up to rest on his shoulders.

“You don’t need to worry,” he said. “I’m not going to push things any further tonight. But, right now, I would really like to keep kissing you. It’ll help me get comfortable with it. Repetition of an action you’re uncomfortable with is proven to retrain your mind in how you view the action.”

You grinned. “Is that the only reason you’d like to keep kissing me? To prove a scientific fact?”

“It’s more like a psychological fact. You see, in moments of intense satisfaction or pleasure, the brain releases something called dopamine which causes -”

You didn’t give him a chance to finish before you leaned in and kissed him again.

The psychological facts could wait.

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#spencer reid #fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #fluff

5K notes · View notes

lipstickstainz · 3 years

Text

mismatched socks - s. r.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Request: Spencer's girlfriend (reader, FBI agent too) always wears mismatched socks and when they have their first night together at his apartment he notices, and his brain goes to mush, and falls in love with her even more

Warnings: fluff, some talk about Spencer being insecure Word Count: 2.2k A/N: thanks for the request, love! I really enjoyed writing it! requests are open guys! hope you enjoy. gif not mine.

Spencer had always known he was different. He had always been the smartest in school, which could be attributed to his eidetic memory. He wasn't invited to birthday parties because he liked to tell facts that were funny to him, but that no one else found funny. And he had been rather an oddball in other ways, too.

All his life this fact had made him insecure. He thought of himself as too skinny, too unathletic-especially when he compared himself to Derek, which was pretty stupid, of course-and his hair always lay funny, no matter how hard he tried to tame it. He wore cardigans over shirts-the watch over the cardigan, of course-which was pretty weird, but he wore Converse with them and two different socks every day. He loved magic and physics jokes. Spencer couldn't talk about the latest episode of Greys Anatomy, and he wasn't sure what Team Stefan and Team Damon were. Spencer didn't fit in perfectly anywhere and it had taken him time to accept that. He also never imagined anyone would find in attractive, or even want to be with him.

Until you came along.

On your first day at BAU, he immediately noticed three things about you. First, you walked incredibly fast, actually too fast to just walk from one office to the next. It seemed to her as if you were flying. Second, you tucked your hair behind your ears every few minutes, even when it wasn't falling in your face. He wondered why you didn't use a pin or a scrunchie. But it was a habit that didn't bother him in the least. From the moment he first saw you, he found you irresistibly pretty, and he was glad your hair didn't cover your face. And third, you could write ambidextrously. As the team sat in the conference room and you scribbled something in your case file - also something he noticed, you seemed to prefer paper as much as he did - you reached for your coffee cup with your right hand and continued to write undisturbed with your left, until the entire team looked at you as if you were from another star. It was a look Spencer knew all too well.

He had never met anyone like you.

Spencer liked you from the first moment he saw you. He liked that you took your backpack on both shoulders and that you preferred cocoa to coffee. He liked the way you smiled at him when he brought you one from the office kitchen and set it on your desk. And he liked the way your skin felt on his when you reached under the desk for his hand when you noticed a change in his demeanor. You then squeezed his hand twice. Once for "It's all right" and once for "I'm here, with you."

In your presence, everything seemed as easy as breathing. You listened to him when he blathered on about a subject you didn't understand, because you liked his intelligence and the way he explained things without looking down on others. You even asked when he had to explain something to you, which had surprised him so much the first few times that he had completely forgotten what your conversation was about. He had stared at you and the blush had come to his face. One feature that didn't escape you, but made him even more attractive to you.

When you went to his table one morning and told him that you had seen Star Trek for the first time the previous night, and now wondered how realistic the physics in the movie were, he could hardly stand it. You were beautiful and intelligent and interested in Star Trek? And when you asked him if he could explain something from the movie to you, he was sure his dream girl was standing right in front of him.

"I need your help", he told Derek that very day as they stood together in the kitchen. "How do I ask a girl out?"

Derek nearly choked on his coffee before turning to Spencer. "Since when do you want to date?" He noticed Spencer's gaze, which wasn't on him, but slid past him and lingered on you.You sat at your desk and tucked your hair behind your ears before looking up and over at Spencer's desk. Derek could see your gaze wander around the office and then linger on Spencer before you smiled and got back to work. With a grin, Derek looked at Spencer. "You're going to ask Y/N out on a date? Oh boy, it's about time you finally do. I already said to Penelope that -"

"Please, Morgan. I just want to know how to ask her out”, Spencer interrupted him, looking at his friend.

Derek's grin gave way to an honest, friendly smile. "Don't make a big deal out of it. Just ask her directly."

"And if she says no?", asked Spencer uncertainly, his mouth twisting into a thin line. He couldn't imagine you going on a date with him, but he couldn't stay in the dark any longer either. He had to at least try.

"She won't”, Derek assured him. The whole team felt that Spencer and you would be perfect for each other, but he didn't tell him that. Spencer should learn to walk before he starts running. "I can see the way she looks at you. And if she does say no, she's not as smart as I thought."

Spencer trusted Derek's words and took it upon himself to ask you out on a date that very day. He had phrased the question countless times in his head, even encouraging himself in the mirror in the men's room, but every time he stood in front of you and looked at your beautiful face, he couldn't get a single word out. They got stuck in his throat and he was so embarrassed that he fled from you several times. By the third time, he had red marks on his neck, which you noticed immediately, and you wondered how you had made him so uncomfortable without having really done anything. When he said nothing again, you put your hand on his forearm.

"Are you okay, Spencer?", you asked, and he just nodded. It's now or never.

"Wouldyougooutwithme?" He almost mumbled, but you had understood him perfectly. "If you don't want to, that's fine, and we'll pretend I never asked. We'll just keep being friends and -"

"Spencer," you interrupted, smiling up at him, "I'd love to go out with you," you replied, and he was able to breathe deeply again. The marks on his neck faded as you tucked your hair behind your ear.

He had done it. Spencer had asked you and you had agreed, but where was he going to take you? Nothing seemed good enough for him. Going out to eat was nice, but you didn't seem like someone who needed to talk the whole time. He thought movie theaters were dumb because you couldn't talk there at all. After two days he had thought of something and he wouldn't have minded if you thought the idea was stupid, but when he presented his idea to you, you smiled at him excitedly.

"I can't wait."

You spent your first date in Spencer's favorite library, surrounded by knowledge and stories. You walked the aisles together, telling stories of books you had read and found to be good, and books you had abandoned because they were so bad you couldn't finish them. As you walked through each aisle, which had actually taken an entire afternoon, Spencer didn't want the date to end. He was going to suggest something else, but you beat him to it.

"There's a couch over there. Shall we sit there? Then you can read me something from your favorite book."

You would be the death of him.

A few weeks later, you had arranged to go for a walk. The weather was nice, not too hot and not too cool, so you strolled hand in hand along the paths. He liked the fact that you worked together but couldn't just talk about the job. You were explaining to him why a certain Matt Donavan from a vampire series was incredibly annoying when someone stopped in front of you.

"Y/N! How nice to see you!", the young woman said, unceremoniously wrapping her arms around you. When she broke away from you, you looked at Spencer.

"Spencer, this is Lisa, my college roommate. Lisa, this is Spencer, my boyfriend”, you explained before you could think about what you had just said. You chatted briefly before going your separate ways again. You noticed a change in Spencer's behavior and feared you had misinterpreted everything. When you couldn't take it anymore, you stopped.

"Look, I'm sorry I called you my boyfriend”, you said, looking down at the ground in shame. "We've never talked about what exactly we are, but it feels like you're my boyfriend and I wish you were, so I -"

"Y/N”, he interrupted you and tenderly reached for your hand. A smile spread across his face. He couldn't believe himself that he would ask you that. "Would you like to be my girlfriend?"

The bar was crowded and the later it got, the more crowded you felt. The team had been in the mood to celebrate after a difficult case, so everyone had gathered in the regular bar. Penelope was putting on some dance moves on the dance floor while Emily and JJ were bawling out the song, which neither Spencer nor you knew. He had his arm around your waist and pulled you tightly to his side, which you enjoyed very much. He didn't fit in here with his shirt and cardigan, but he fit you, you were one hundred percent sure of that.

As you stifled a yawn, he looked down at you. "Shall we go? You seem tired and I'm getting ready to go to bed too”, he suggested and you nodded. Outside, he hailed you a cab and as you got in, you gave the driver Spencer's address.

"We're going to my place?", asked Spencer, looking at you in confusion as you nestled into his side.

"Yeah, I hope that's okay”, you replied, "If it's too soon for you for us to sleep together, then you just have to say so. I won't be mad at you."

How could he be mad at you? You wanted to spend the night with him. You wanted to fall asleep next to him and wake up next to him. He had hit the jackpot.

"Would you like to drink something?", he asked as you sat down on the couch and kicked off your shoes. It wasn't the first time you'd been in his apartment, but you'd never entered his bedroom before and you didn't want to take the step without him. It was still his apartment and his privacy and you respected that.

"Just water, please”, you replied, pulling your legs up so he could sit next to you. He handed you the glass and you took a big gulp.

In your presence, Spencer had never felt like an oddball. You never made him feel like he was different or weird. You didn't laugh at him, you laughed with him, and you had assured him many times how incredibly attractive he was to you, even if he couldn't see it. He wasn't too skinny or too unathletic for you. He dressed askew, but it suited him like a glove and you had imagined more than once what he would look like without clothes. It didn't bother you in the least that he wasn't interested in the technology of today. For you, he was just right. For you, he was perfect.

Even though you often assured him how much you liked him and how happy you were with him, he was still insecure from time to time. But as you sat there together on the couch and you put your legs on his thighs, he was one hundred percent sure that he didn't need to be insecure. On your left foot was a green sock, while on your right dangled an orange sock.

You wore the socks like he did. Two different ones. Had you seen this on him and copied it or had you always worn socks like this? A question that could be answered later. His heart stopped for a second, his brain turned to mush, which is why he couldn't control his following words either. "I think I love you."

Surprised, you looked to him and noticed that his gaze lingered on your socks. "You see my socks and then say you love me? Maybe something isn't going right in that clever head of yours”, you grinned and leaned towards him. Blushes shot up his face. "I love you too, Spencer."

Gently, you placed your lips on his. The kiss was tender, hesitant, but Spencer saw his chance and gently pulled you onto his lap before wrapping his arms around you and holding you close. His heart threatened to overflow with love. As he placed his hands on your butt, you moaned softly into his mouth. He smiled.

In your presence, he didn't feel like he was different.

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid headcanon #spencer reid gif #criminal minds #criminal minds smut #Emily prentiss #derek morgan #aaron hotchner #Jennifer jereau

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gretagillmybeloved · 2 years

Text

a calm like no other

(Also on AO3.)

The kiss is both totally unexpected and no surprise at all.

Rationally, Amelia knows they have been dancing around this, dancing around each other, ever since they met for the first time all those weeks ago. She has never felt a spark quite like the one she did when she first laid eyes on Dr. Kai Bartley. Someone who seems to be her equal. Fully. Unapologetically.

There’s just something about their rational, no-nonsense attitude that grounds Amelia, makes her feel entirely calm, serene almost. At the same time, she’s more focused than ever. Working with Kai is… revolutionary. They know what she wants, what she needs, before she has to say it. Sometimes Amelia can’t believe they’ve known each other for less than three months considering how well Kai is able to read her. It’s easy, the way they have just clicked.

Amelia hasn’t thought about drugs once in their presence. Where Link felt overbearing, suffocating, Kai feels invigorating, exhilarating. They feel like freedom. Like finally having found your person.

And maybe it’s the smirk. The challenge in their eyes, the twinkle. The fact that she was attracted to their brain—their brilliant, incredible brain—before she ever even met them.

But she doesn’t panic when Kai kisses her. Or when they ask her out to dinner—she says yes, this time—right after. She also doesn’t panic when they stumble into Kai’s hotel room at the end of the night, clothes being discarded left and right as they go, when they make her come three times in the span of less than an hour, when she wakes up in their arms the next morning.

There is no urge to run, to rush, to burn down every bridge around herself and call it self-preservation. She lets Kai in, introduces them to Scout after a long conversation with Link during which she tells him it’s over once and for all. Even though Kai admits—quiet and sheepish—that they’ve never actually held a baby before in a non-medical capacity, they’re a natural with the little boy, if a little stiff at first.

It takes David a while to recover from his bowel resection and Amelia is trying not to be too happy about that considering it means that Kai stays in Seattle longer than originally scheduled. Dating Kai is… different. For one, they talk. About everything. All the time. She’s never communicated with a partner this much ever in her life, talking science, life, the future.

Conversations about both the former and the latter grow more frequent as they get a new FDA window, perform the surgery, and—to the surprise of even themselves—don’t kill David. And she should be absolutely elated because she has just performed a groundbreaking procedure and is well on her way to curing Parkinson’s but…

Doing that means Kai goes back to Minnesota—and Minnesota is very far away. Yeah, she’ll still fly out there once a week to continue their research but the long distance thing does put a strain on their relationship. (Though being apart for a prolonged period of time on the regular makes for absolutely amazing sex every time they reunite.)

She simply isn’t ready to uproot her entire life and move across the country and she can’t expect Kai to do it, either. She says as much at 3AM on a random Tuesday in May when they’re tangled together in the sheets in Kai’s studio apartment.

And Kai just laughs, gently running their hand up and down Amelia’s bare back, and tells her that, for a person who is a certified genius in the medical field, she’s pretty stupid because has she seen this apartment? There’s nothing keeping them here in the long run and they’d absolutely move to Seattle.

For a second, Amelia is afraid this new piece of information is going to make her feel trapped, like the walls are closing in around her—just as it has been with everyone else before.

The feeling never comes.

Instead, warmth blossoms in her chest—relief, almost—and she tilts her head up to press a kiss against the underside of Kai’s jaw.

And everything is calm.

#amelia x kai #kai x amelia #kaimelia #kamelia #kai bartley #amelia shepherd #grey’s anatomy #fanfic #fic

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bestofbucky · 3 years

Text

Eavesdrop

Pairings: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 5.1k

Warnings: none really, enemies to ?

A/N: This is my first time posting something I have written. I hope you enjoy it! Thank you so much @tuiccim for your help, couldn’t have done it without you.

Being an Avenger is tough. Of course, there are the obvious missions and kicking ass that are exhausting, especially because you don’t have any sort of enhancements or powers. You are just a regular human being, fighting with and against some not so regular human beings. Naturally when you have downtime, you spend it doing things with the least amount of effort. Watching Netflix, listening to music, taking baths, etc, meaning that your social life outside of the compound was, to put it simply, non-existent.

You had just returned from the worst date of your life, well, one of the top five worst dates of your life. Over the past couple of months Steve and Natasha had grown tired of you whining about being single but not making any effort to change it and began sending you on blind dates. Somehow, they managed five different times to find five completely awful people. This time they had set you up with Arthur, a recruit for SHIELD and a good one at that. You wouldn’t be surprised to see him on the elite squad soon, but when it came to your date, he was really blunt and inappropriate, and you had cringed your way through the entire thing.

Once you got back to the compound, you first went to your room to get changed into gym clothes for training with Nat, then headed to her room. On your way you passed one of the common rooms and heard two voices. One familiar but one you didn’t recognise, you decided to check it out and found Steve and another man.

Steve called your name inviting you over to them as they both stood up. ‘This is Bucky. He’s moving in today to begin training.’ Steve explains. You nod and smile at Bucky, remembering Steve told you about him and that he would be living here and eventually joining the team.

You have to stop yourself from gasping out loud at the sight of him. He is a 6 ft something hunk of muscle and beauty and you can’t stop yourself from trying to take him all in with your eyes.

Steve then introduces you to Bucky who looks in your eyes for all of two seconds to say, ‘hi’ before looking down at his feet. He is probably really nervous. Even from that two second glance, you could tell he had one hell of a past. They had you hooked already, you wanted to stare into those eyes and let them tell you the stories of the lifetime they had seen.

‘You were just in Wakanda right? How was it? I have only ever seen it in pictures but I really want to go.’ You let your excitement show, hoping to relax him a bit.

‘Yeah, it was nice. I was frozen for most of it though’ Shit, he curses himself. He didn’t mean to come across so rude but he was really nervous, you are really pretty and it is messing with his head a little. It doesn’t help that he has had to meet a lot of different people today and he is all socialised out. He sees your face fall slightly before you quickly compose yourself, any normal person would have missed it but he has his past of being a trained assassin.

‘Well, Nat is probably waiting for me, she told me she would show me some new moves today.’ You say realising that Bucky had probably been under a lot of stress lately and most likely just wanted to be alone, or with Steve rather than chatting to you, a stranger. At least you hoped this was the reason and it wasn’t that he already disliked you. Saying goodbye to the two of them you head off to Natasha’s room.

Not even bothering to knock, you walk into her room leaving the door open behind you, since you’ll be heading down to the gym soon anyway. Natasha is sitting on the end of the bed braiding her hair. ‘You almost ready?’ You ask.

‘Yeah, just got to finish my hair then put my shoes on.’ She tells you so you take a seat on her bed while you wait.

Meanwhile, Bucky told Steve that he wanted to go get his room sorted. Really it was just an excuse to be alone for a little while. On the way there he walked past a room with the door open and heard two voices talking, recognising them to be you and Natasha. He was just about to carry on walking to his room when he heard Natasha ask, ‘did you meet him yet?’

Bucky assumed she was talking about him and wanted to hear what you had to say. He hoped you would be understanding of his reticence after his taxing morning.

‘Yeah, I met him today.’ You sigh and roll your eyes.

‘That bad?’ Nat asks, raising her eyebrows with a slight smirk on her face.

‘Yes, I tried to be as friendly as I could but he seemed like a jerk.’ You huff.

‘How so?’

‘He was so blunt he just came across really rude. I had high expectations, especially after hearing Steve say so many nice things about him.’

‘Maybe he was just having a bad day?’ She attempts a defence.

‘Bad day or not, he should have the courtesy to smile and be polite even if it is fake.’

Bucky was so hurt to hear this. Yes, he wasn’t the nicest to you but your reaction seemed a bit dramatic. He didn’t want to hear you say any more so he rushed off to his room.

‘So, I guess you aren’t going to go on a second date with him then?’ Nat asks.

‘No, I really appreciate you and Steve trying to set me up but seeing as this is the 5th time and none of them were any good, I think I’ll go back to my old methods.’ You smile at her.

‘What, never putting yourself out there and waiting for the right person to just fall into your lap?’ Nat teases and you both laugh when you nod. She finishes tying her shoelaces and you head off to the gym.

The next day you were leading a meeting of recruits who have the potential to be moved up into the squad that worked with the Avengers. The elite squad. Unfortunately for you, Arthur was in the group of recruits and was probably the next one to be promoted. You finally dismissed everyone and started getting your stuff together to leave as well when Arthur came up to you.

‘What’s the word on who is moving up next, dove?’ You look up in shock, surely, he didn’t just call you dove.

‘Excuse me?’ You look him dead in the eye.

‘I said what’s the word on who is moving up next? I think you might need to get your hearing checked.’ He laughs at his own joke so you fake laugh with him.

‘That’s confidential., we’ll let everyone know when we have made the decision.’ You say and go to walk past him but he grabs your arm.

‘Does someone need a little convincing. If it’s you, then I can think of some ways.’ He whispers seductively in your ear. You pull your arm out of his grasp and frown at him.

‘I’m only joking, dove, come on, you can’t even take a joke?’ He laughs again.

You put on your best fake smile and your customer service voice. ‘There will be no convincing necessary. You are a good agent but you also have good competition. We will inform you all of our decision when it is made.’ You say and quickly turn and walk out the door before he can say anything else. When you get into the lift you ask FRIDAY where Steve is.

‘Common room A, Agent Y/L/N’. You make your way there as quick as possible. Heading around the corner, you slam into a solid object. You hiss at the contact on your fresh bruises, a frown appearing on your face. As soon as you look up to see what or who you bumped into, the frown quickly fades into a smile when you see its Bucky. He is already looking at you.

‘Sorry I should have been watching where I was going.’ He mumbles quickly.

‘No, it’s just as much my fault as yours. I shouldn’t have been in such a hurry.’ You apologise to him. As much as you would love to stay and chat with Bucky, you need to get to Steve to explain what just happened with Arthur and hopefully you can get him kicked off the team.

Bucky had left his room to try and find someone to help him figure out a few things with FRIDAY but as soon as he bumped into you that completely left his mind. You were all that filled his mind ever since he met you. He stood in the hallway for a while before realising he should ask you to help. Maybe this would be a good excuse to make up for his poor first impression. He heads in the direction you went but stops short when he hears your voice.

‘I think he bruised me. The dick.’ You say and Steve frowns at you ‘Come on, Steve. I’m allowed to be angry. He has been nothing but a jerk to me,’ you explain and shift to get more comfortable.

‘What did you say to him when he did this?’ Steve asks, holding your arm and examining the newly formed bruises in the shapes of fingers.

‘I put on my best fake smile and pretended like everything was ok,’ You joke and Steve laughs, ‘as much as I hate the guy, I don’t have the confidence to actually show it.’ You sigh and Steve pulls your sleeve back down and leans back into the sofa. ‘Is there any way we can kick him off the team?’ You exaggerate batting your eyelashes at him.

‘He isn’t even on the team yet and you already want to kick him off?’ Steve questions.

‘Yes! I really don’t like him. I know he is your friend but I trust him about as far as I can throw him’ You explain and Steve nods.

Bucky had heard enough. He can’t believe you could be so horrible. You had the sweetest exterior and, from first impressions, you didn’t look like you could hurt a fly. But as he heard you say, you clearly put on a fake act to come across as polite and kind when really you are rude deep down. He didn’t mean to eavesdrop on you. Twice now. But he is so glad he did, because now he knows not to waste his energy on you. He knows what you think of him and he has formed his opinion of you. He hurries back to his room.

‘He’s not my friend Y/N, I only said that to you to make you go on the date with an open mind. I’ve only ever had one conversation with the guy,’ Steve jokes and you playfully push his arm, ‘All jokes aside, his behaviour breaks a lot of conduct rules and is a good enough reason to have him knocked down a few squads.’ Steve replies and you sigh with relief. You hug Steve and thank him for his help, he’s taken slightly off guard but hugs you back before you go your separate ways.

A few weeks later, you walk into the kitchen to find the whole team eating their breakfast. Sam is cooking and when he sees you, he makes a plate and hands it to you.

‘Thank you Sam.’ You hug him and take the plate, turning around at the sound of Bucky’s scoff. You haven’t had a conversation with Bucky since you bumped into each other in the hallway. You had tried to but he either completely ignored you or just rolled his eyes and left the room.

At first it hurt, you wondered if you had done something wrong. The team seemed just as confused by it as you. Bucky didn’t have a problem with anyone else. That wasn’t to say he was extremely friendly with them, he wasn’t there yet and nobody blamed him but he could hold conversation with the others. He even laughed at their jokes. You were starting to get fed up with it so after breakfast you headed to Bucky’s room to talk to him. You knocked on the door and it wasn’t long until he answered it. As soon as he saw you his face fell visibly.

‘Can we talk?’ You asked hoping he would let you into his room. He paused to consider it then stepped out of his room, closing the door behind him. He stood there with his arms crossed and waited for you to talk.

‘Is there something I did wrong?’ You ask him and he keeps a blank face.

‘Why do you care?’ He asks still arms crossed over his body.

‘I care because you are always scoffing or rolling your eyes at me whenever I try to talk to you.’

‘I’m not scoffing or rolling my eyes now.’ He points out.

‘No but you’re not exactly being very friendly.’

‘Would you prefer for me to fake it then? Just put on a smile and pretend to like you?’ He jabs. You take a moment to process what he just said. You didn’t realise he could be so mean.

‘No Bucky I would prefer for you to maybe make an effort to get to know me before making a judgement.’ You scowl at him.

‘I have a perfectly fine judgement of you. I am not going to fall for your fake smiles and fake friendships.’ Bucky snarls and walks back into his room closing his door in your face. You are left to stand there in shock.

On the other side of the door Bucky is leaning there conflicted. The shock on your face looked so genuine. No, he has to remember it is all an act with you.

From that day on you decided you weren’t going to make an effort with him. It wasn’t the most mature decision but you were tired. What used to be eye rolls and scoffs, now turned into snarky comments and you were no longer afraid to throw them right back at him.

Steve had tried a few times to talk to you about it but, when he couldn’t tell you why Bucky hated you, he realised there was nothing he could do to change how either of you felt about the other. What he could do was change up your schedules so the two of you were rarely ever in the same room together.

Unfortunately, instead of the arguments happening quite calmly but consistently over the course of the whole day. They were now much shorter, confined to just mealtimes, and much more heated and intense. None of the team knew which was worse.

You were sparring in the gym with Natasha trying to work off some steam from this morning’s argument with Bucky.

‘Your moves are sloppy, get whatever is making you emotional out of your head.’ She grunts at you but this only forces you further into your head.

You go hard at her, but she blocks every move so you go to defence. She smirks at you, ‘Has a certain super soldier got into your head?’

That causes a surge of anger to hit you and again you go hard at Natasha, but your anger only allows her to catch you off balance and you are pinned to the mat in a matter of seconds.

‘So it is Barnes.’ She pulls you up and you brush yourself off before getting back into a fighting stance.

‘I don’t want to talk about it.’ You grunt at her and start your attack. Your moves are still predictable and anger clouds your mind. You feel yourself getting more and more worked up with every hit she blocks.

You retreat to take a breather, you hear the door open and you glance over, the man of the hour has just entered and you roll your eyes but continue to spar with Natasha.

Out the corner of your eye, you see him make his way over to you both, watching as you take a lot of hits from her and barely manage to land any of your own.

‘I have seen toddlers fight better than you Y/N.’ You hear him chuckle.

‘I don’t need your opinion.’ You grunt, still trying to keep your focus on Natasha.

‘Fight like that on the field and you’ll be dead in two seconds.’

‘Keep talking and you’ll wish you were dead.’

He laughs ‘Is that a threat?’ You ignore him and continue sparring. ‘Your punches are so weak, how did you become an Avenger again?’ He is still smiling knowing exactly which buttons to push.

You stop and make your way over to him. ‘I became an Avenger because of my talent and my strength, that I worked hard to earn.’ You are right up in his face, almost chest to chest. You are breathing hard, partly from the exercise but mostly because of how riled up you are. You notice he is breathing hard as well, his breath fanning across your face.

Your mind can’t help but drift, is this what he would look like in bed, his chest rising and falling faster than normal. Small beads of sweat gathered at his hairline from his recent run. You suddenly realise how close the two of you are and force the inappropriate thoughts from your mind. You hate how seeing him so riled up is actually a huge turn on. How could you let yourself be attracted to such an asshole?

‘You wouldn’t stand a chance against me.’ His voice drops so low that in a different circumstance you would have happily dropped your panties.

‘You’re right. I wouldn’t stand a chance against you and your metal arm that you were given. Or you and the super soldier serum that you were given.’ You know they are cheap shots but you just couldn’t help how absolutely fuming he makes you. He had managed to get under your skin and the thought of him being successful only made you angrier.

He leans down even more, your noses almost touching ‘I don’t know how everyone else can’t see through your little nice act. You pretend to be so kind on the outside but deep down you’re a bitch.’ Ouch. You deserved that one for what you said to him but it didn’t make it hurt any less. Especially because if you were hooked up to a lie detector and asked to say those things again, it would flash up as a blatant lie. However, looking into his eyes there was not an ounce of regret for what he said.

Bucky knew he shouldn’t have said what he did, but you had hit a nerve and it was the only thing he could think to say back. He saw the hurt flash across your eyes but it was too late to take it back now. The only thing he could do was exit the situation before it got any worse. He turned on his heels and left the room, leaving you standing there in complete shock at your exchange.

Natasha calls your name but you quickly leave for your room before anyone can see you like this.

The team was split all across the base. This wasn’t how you would usually handle missions but as soon as you arrived the mission started to go sideways.

‘Target headed towards the west elevator. Anyone nearby copy?’ You hear Steve’s voice through comms.

‘I'm on it.’ You say back, your comms crackling more than usual.

‘Copy that.’ Bucky said, his comms crackling from the two of you talking at the same time.

The rest of the team had heard both of your voices but neither of you had heard the other. So it was a big shock when you were waiting for the elevator and you heard his voice behind you.

‘You have got to be kidding me.’ He sighs and slowly walks up to you to wait for the elevator as well. ‘Did you not hear me say I got it?’ He snaps at you.

‘No because I was the one that said I’m on it.’ You snap back and thankfully the elevator dings it’s arrival. Normally in creepy Hydra bases you would avoid elevators but seeing as there was no stairwell nearby, this was the only option.

‘Age before beauty.’ You say to him, gesturing to the elevator.

‘Very funny’ he says sarcastically before stepping inside. You follow after him and press the only floor button available.

Silence permeates the small space as you prepare for what’s to happen once the doors open. Instead, the elevator jerks to a stop.

‘No.’ You panic and start pressing the floor button over and over. ‘No no no no no.’ Nothing is working.

‘Let me try.’ Bucky says pushing you out of the way, you so badly want to say something but the only thing you can focus on is the fact you might be trapped. Bucky taps the button and looks around for anything else to press but there is nothing. You can feel yourself start to get light headed as claustrophobia takes hold and the thought of falling to your death in this metal box takes over your thoughts. You shrink down onto the floor and hold your head in your hands.

‘Do you always have to be so dramatic?’ Bucky huffs. You don’t answer him, the only thing you can think about is the pain starting in your chest and your breathing getting heavier.

‘Stop breathing so fast. You are going to make yourself pass out.’ Bucky grunts but when you don’t reply or make any effort to slow your breathing he gets worried. He kneels down in front of you ‘Hey? Doll? Can you hear me?’ You can’t answer him, you just feel the impending doom and the immense pressure on your chest. ‘I’m going to move your hands.’ He announces then you feel him take your hands and pull them away from your face. You look at him, tears in your eyes, a look of pure fear across your face. ‘Breathe with me, doll. Can you do that?’ He asks and you manage to nod. He speeds his breathing up to your pace then gradually slows it, you follow him as best as you can and eventually you get your breathing back to normal, with the occasional hiccup or sharp intake.

Once he sees you are ok, he lets go of your hands and sits on the floor as far away as he can. You both continue to sit in silence.

‘Thank you.’ You eventually manage to whisper, he nods without meeting your eye.

You can’t help but feel disappointed, you just got to see a caring side of Bucky and it felt amazing to be on the receiving end of it, but now you are back to him not giving a shit about you. You go back and forth wondering whether it is the right time to bring up the issues between you two. If not now, when?

‘Why do you hate me so much?’ He looks across at you and sighs before he answers.

‘I don’t hate you.’

‘Yes you do. It seems like you go out of your way to make me miserable.’ You push, making him lean his head back on the wall behind him.

‘I don’t hate you. I just don’t like how you formed opinions about me so early on. You wanted me off the team before I even got cleared to be on the team.’ Bucky explains. You stare at him in confusion.

‘How do you know what opinions I formed of you? I may have wanted you off the team but it was only because you were mean and that was after you were cleared.’ You could feel yourself starting to get angry.

‘Then how come I overheard you talking about the first time we met to Nat, you said I was blunt and rude. Then after I accidentally bumped into you, you told Steve you wanted me off the team.’ Bucky says agitatedly.

‘I never-‘ you think back to any conversations you had with Nat and Steve about Bucky. The only ones that came to mind were asking them if they knew why Bucky didn’t like you. Then it hits you, he had overheard you talking to Steve and Nat about Arthur. You sighed.

‘Let me guess, you overheard me and Nat talking not long after we first met. We were in Nat’s room getting ready to go train?’ You ask and he nods.

‘Then the conversation you overheard with Steve was straight after we bumped into each other. We were in the common room?’ Bucky looks confused but nods again.

‘You are such a prick. You eavesdrop but don’t even listen long enough to hear who we were talking about.’ You can’t help but chuckle at the situation, even though it’s not particularly funny.

‘What?’ Bucky looks more confused than ever.

‘Well, if you had listened properly to the whole conversation you would know I was talking about that asshat agent, Arthur.’ That came out more blunt than you intended.

‘The recruit that got bumped down a few squads even though he is really good?’

‘Yep. That’s the one’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘Before you came Steve and Nat had been setting me up on blind dates with people. Arthur was the fifth one, I really didn’t want to go so Steve convinced me by saying they were friends and all this nice stuff about him.’ You pause to take a deep breath. ‘The day we met, I had just come from the date with him and it was awful. That's what me and Nat were talking about. Then when we bumped into each other in the hallway, I had just come from a meeting with the recruits. Arthur had been inappropriate and he hurt my arm, I was rushing to Steve to tell him and ask if he can be kicked off the team.’ You finally manage to say and Bucky just looks at you. You can see the cogs turning in his head as he is finally getting context to the snippets of conversation he overheard.

‘Shit. I am so sorry. I am such an idiot.’ He scolds himself and you can’t help but feel bad for him.

‘I am not going to disagree with you, but we have both said and done some pretty nasty stuff. I am sorry for any hurt I caused you.’ You say sincerely and he looks over to you and smiles.

‘So you didn’t think I was rude when we first met?’ He still holds your eye contact and you take a moment to look at him. You have never seen him look so vulnerable before, he almost looked scared.

‘No, Bucky, I thought you were probably nervous or tired from meeting loads of new people.’ You explain and his shoulders fall.

‘I feel like such a jerk.’ He sighs and you scoot yourself closer to him so he has to look at you.

‘I’m not all that innocent in this either. It was a misunderstanding. I am just glad we have cleared it up now.’ You say meaning it and he smiles earnestly back at you. It is something you have never experienced first-hand. You have seen him give those gorgeous, slightly lopsided, smiles to other people but seeing one directed at you causes a rush of heat to your cheeks and you find yourself blushing.

Bucky must have been thinking along the same lines ‘You’re cute when you blush. I have never seen this side of you before.’ He brushes some hair out of your face and behind your ear. ‘You know, part of the reason I was so nervous when I first met you was because I was taken off guard by how beautiful you are.’ His cheeks flush slightly at his confession.

Before you can say anything the elevator jerks again and starts moving, you and Bucky are quick on your feet, preparing yourself for the doors to open.

When they finally do you are met with a group of Hydra agents ready to attack. You and Bucky work in tandem, playing off each other’s strengths. When the Hydra agents realize this, they work to separate you. The majority of them are on Bucky but you are fighting four at once. You are onto the last one when he raises his gun to shoot but you force his arm down. Not quick enough, it fires and clips your calf causing you to cry out from the pain

It is not as bad as actually being shot in the leg but it still hurts like hell and you can’t put pressure on it. The room is pretty silent apart from footsteps you recognise to be Bucky approaching. You move quickly and uppercut the guy in the nose. The crack echoes throughout the room as the guy falls to the floor at your feet.

You turn to Bucky, his mouth agape and eyebrows raised in shock. ‘That was hot.’ He announces finally, making you laugh, you go to take a step towards him but realise too late that your injured leg won’t hold your weight. You would have fallen to the floor if Bucky hadn’t rushed to catch you.

‘Thanks.’ You chuckle, your faces are extremely close. Your eyes completely entranced in his. Your whole body warms at the safe feeling of being in his arms. You start to wonder what it would be like to fall asleep in these arms, to wake up the next morning still wrapped up in them. Protected.

You force yourself back to reality by clearing your throat. ‘We should probably get back to the team.’ You say and he nods. He puts his arm around your waist and you put yours over his shoulders to use him as a crutch.

The ride back up in the elevator goes smoothly this time and before you know it you are hobbling up to the quinjet where the rest of the team awaits. Natasha and Steve are both looking back and forth from you to Bucky in confusion.

‘What the hell happened?’ Steve asks not trying to hide how baffled he is that you and Bucky are holding onto each other and not arguing. Natasha simply smirks. Bucky helps you into a seat then sits opposite you with a wink as you smile at him.

‘No, this is too weird. Please argue, bicker, roll your eyes. Anything.’ Sam begs Bucky who doesn’t break his eye contact with you. Bucky simply laughs knowing his behaviour is unsettling Sam and enjoying the newfound comradery with you.

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jello-in-my-bello · 4 years

Text

It’s time that we had a real conversation about Aang...

For the main character of a television series, Aang somehow almost always finds himself under-rated and dismissed in fans’ posts. You see all these posts and, when they do reference him, it’s usually accompanied by the phrases “immature” and “12-year-old boy.” I mean honestly, in some ATLA fans posts, it seems as if Aang’s name is almost synonymous with the word immaturity--and it’s been that way for years. I’ve always wondered why people discredited him. Was it because they saw his age and immediately ruled him out? Is it an excuse for Katara and Aang to have never happened? Was calling him the most immature character a way to bring up their favorite characters? Or did they simply get conditioned to think Aang was immature because everyone just... said he was? Well, I think Aang’s the most mature character (from start to finish) on the show, and Imma tell you why.

I think that Book 1 Aang is the Aang that everyone has stuck in their head. We get introduced to Aang in a strange way: he’s a boy frozen in an iceberg, and the first thing he asks is to go penguin sledding. Then he boldly explores a fire navy ship after being told it might not be a great idea. This kid’s kinda stupid, we think. Why does he care about penguin sledding? Why does he explore something he is told not to? Then he stops at Kyoshi Island to ride the Unagi, then he stops at Omashu to ride the delivery service, and then he lets the gang stop at other locations—having mini adventures—without worrying about learning waterbending on any sort of timeline. Why does he choose to explore all these different places at first rather than master the four elements? Doesn’t he even care about being the Avatar? Ah... that’s right. He’s only 12.

Except surmising his entire maturity (or lack thereof) to the fact that he stops for these adventures means that you are ignoring one glaring detail of the show: Airbender and nomad culture. Aang asking Katara to go penguin sledding instead of what year it was and taking his friends to all those random stops in B1 so that he can explore can not be chalked up to immaturity. Because then you are ignoring an entire culture. We don’t get to see a lot of airbenders, and I think that plays into the problem, but from what we do know, we learn that a critical part of their culture is that they travel. A lot. And experience different cultures. A lot. Think about all the different places he’s referenced going to 100 years ago in the series. Then think about all the friends he’s talked about having in these obscure places—and it always sounded like he visited them more than once. Traveling, experiencing different cities, and meeting new people was a part of him and a part of his culture. He wasn’t being a 12-year-old when he stopped to ride the Unagi or the delivery shoots in Omashu, he was being an air nomad

On a similar note, one of Aang’s most notable traits is saying, “Hey, check this out,” excitedly while doing some air bending trick that seems juvenile--like spinning marbles around or doing an air scooter. People look at him doing this and his previously mentioned traits and go, “Oh, what a kid.” But here’s the thing: we can’t roll our eyes at his persistent need to show people marbles floating in the air or his air scooter. In the episode “Southern Air Temple,” we see Monk Gyatso—an extremely old, wise air bender—throwing cakes on other monks’ heads, and then we’re told throughout the series that Airbenders were known for their playful nature. Airbenders didn’t use their bending the same way other benders do. For example, Waterbenders might show off their skills by creating a giant wave and being like, “Look how cool!” (See: Katara, like every time she learns a new move.) We know Airbenders have some pretty powerful moves--we’ve seen the tornado Aang created, the air body imprint of Aang that slammed Zuko back--but they don’t show off those moves because they’re so combative and not so fun. They show off the good-natured side of air bending (ex: Gyasto’s staff surfing when he was a child). So those marble/air scooter tricks can’t be watered down to 12-year-old immaturity. Because he’s not being a kid when he does those things, he’s being an Airbender. People also tend to look over the fact that he is a survivor of a genocide. You need to keep in mind that he is a living relic and the only example left of what his race was. So even later in the series when he continues to show people those tricks, he’s showing them not just for fun, but to keep his culture alive. And what do you think he’s going to show them: a tornado with random objects flying around in it or two marbles flying in his hands? Which is a better representation of Airbender culture?

Also, do not forget that Aang earned his arrows. Airbenders are not just regular benders; they are known for being especially enlightened. You don’t just need to be a master at airbending to get your arrows—you also need to be a master at their culture. Aang was an enlightened boi. Look at all the speeches that he gave as the series continued. He didn’t just magically become wise in the course of a few months because he had to fight the Firelord, he just tapped into what was always there and never showed. The maturity was always there, and the receipts are in the arrows.

So, I’ve gone over why he’s not as immature as everyone thinks, but why do I think he’s the most mature on the show? It’s because his emotional maturity is freaking through the roof. He’s part of a genocide, his culture is mocked, the few things—his clothing and glider—that he had left from his home were completely destroyed, and he had to do something that severely went against what he believes in. And he almost never loses his shit. In fact, we only ever see him get actually upset (we’re not counting the Avatar state cause that’s a whole different thing) 3 times in the series: when he was telling Katara about how the monks wanted to take him away from Gyatso, the episode when Appa was stolen, and when he was explaining that no one understands the position he is in (in terms of killing Ozai). Think about how much we saw everyone else freak out over the course of the show? About even smaller things.

Katara and Zuko are generally accepted as the two most mature characters of the series. But why? Zuko is continuously snapping at everyone, and, yes, he matured. But he is not completely there yet. He still somewhat believes in revenge (See: Southern Raiders), and it’s only at the last episode of the series that he understands violence is not the answer. And Katara? She acts very mature towards everyone else, but when it comes to her own emotions? She’s a whole basket full of mess. (See: Southern Raiders, again. Or anytime she uses anger as her way to show she’s “passionate.”) A good way to showcase the difference between Aang and these two is realizing that all of them lost a parent from the war and analyzing at how they handled it. (For Zuko let’s focus on the idea that he never really had a father) Katara lost her mother, Zuko his father, and Aang his father, Gyatso. Throughout the series, losing their parent was a huge topic point for both Katara and Zuko so much so that it was as if they thought no one else had ever suffered. (Katara, we see you telling Sokka that he didn’t love your mom the same). Aang, however, acknowledges his pain, tells stories of Gyatso and uses him as an example of what he wants to live up to— eventually coming full circle at the end wearing Gyatso’s beads and an identical outfit. I can’t imagine a more mature way to handle what happened than that.

Basically, what I’m trying to say is, maturity isn’t based on how you have fun, it’s based on how you react to hard situations. And nobody, nobody reacted better in those situations than Aang. So if you watched Avatar and thought it was a story about a young boy maturing, then you misjudged. It wasn’t a story about an immature boy growing up. It was a story of an Airbender becoming an avatar.

#i just had to get this out #avatar #avatar the last airbender #avatar aang #avatar gaang #avatar the legend of aang #atla aang #atla #atla meta #aang #gaang #the last airbender #airbender #avatar rant

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