#to recognise him without him having to actually say out loud that they knew each other''

[flowerandblood]

The Pearl and the Sapphire (4)

[ modern! • Aemond x Baratheon! • female ]

[ warnings: sex content, oral sex, fingering, smut, angst, sexual tension, obsession ]

[description: As a representative of a large family-owned gemstone business, Aemond is attending a major jewellery event where jewellery makers from all over the world are exhibiting. One of them is the Baratheon family. Aemond is tasked with focusing on attracting new customers, but his attention is diverted by the youngest daughter of the eminent maker Borros Baratheon. Slow burn, bitchy, possessive and obsessive Aemond, lots of dark angst and sexual tension. (Anon Request + my sweet @valeskafics)]

A story which is an alternative universe of The Impossbile Choice taking place in modern times. The characters are all the same as in the main series, however, for obvious reasons they will behave differently and experience things differently from medieval times. You can read this without having to delve into the main series.

Series moodboard: Aemond & Miss Baratheon

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Previous and next chapters: Masterlist

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As soon as she entered his room she wondered in her slightly unsober mind what she was actually doing. She watched as he took two wine glasses out of the kitchen cupboard and walked towards the open living room, while she thought strenuously about whether he would add something to her drink if she just went to the toilet for a moment.

She knew nothing about him.

He was a stranger to her.

She was snapped out of her reverie by his low voice, the look in his healthy eye dark and expectant.

"What does he want from you?" He asked directly, without any warning, as if they had known each other forever, and he was her friend to whom she was about to tell her heartfelt dilemmas.

She swallowed quietly at the thought, moving slowly towards the couch and sat down on it. Targaryen immediately sat down next to her, but not too close, allowing her to keep her distance. He poured what was left in the bottle into their glasses, waiting patiently for her response.

With a trembling hand, she opened her clutch bag and took out her phone. She unlocked it and began to read the messages she had received from Cregan.

She swallowed loudly, struggling to hold back tears, locking the screen back, putting the phone again in her purse. She couldn't believe in what she just read, her heart pounding like crazy, her head humming from the wine and stress.

She had spent so many months getting herself together, to accept the fact that he didn't want her, and now he claimed he had changed his mind?

"Question for question." She said abruptly, looking at him tiredly. She recognised that if she was to externalise herself to him, he had to reciprocate.

They knew nothing about each other.

He looked at her intensely for a moment, indecision painted on his face. He was apparently considering all the pros and cons, but in the end he grunted and nodded. She looked down at her hands.

"My ex-boyfriend wanted to be my friend. Months later, when I finally got myself together, he decided he had made a mistake. That maybe we should get back together after all." She choked out with difficulty, reaching for her glass and taking a loud sip from it. She saw that he moved restlessly, playing with his fingers stretched out on his knee, tense. She felt he wanted to say something, but she didn't give him the chance.

"You and the woman you were with at the banquet. Are you two together?" She asked uncertainly, arranging herself comfortably on the sofa, taking a sip of wine, looking at him intently. She saw his whole body tense up, he wasn't looking at her but ahead.

"No." He replied coolly, immediately pressing his glass to his lips.

"Why did you break up?" He asked almost immediately, and she twisted in her seat feeling her heart pounding.

She felt shame.

Why did they break up?

Because she was insufficient?

Because he wasn't ready?

She lifted her legs and tucked them under her thighs, changing positions slightly and sighed quietly.

"He wanted to have some more fun." She said quietly, feeling him give her a sudden, surprised look and move as if he wanted to say something.

"Are you sleeping with her?" She asked suddenly, looking down at her glass, which she held in her hands.

She needed to know.

She needed to know who she was dealing with.

He was silent for too long for her to realise what his answer would be.

"Yes." He said, but there was a kind of withdrawal and uncertainty in his voice that surprised her, as if he really didn't want to admit it.

She looked at him thoughtfully recognising that he was a very insecure man hiding behind a mask of indifference and coldness. She concluded that there was no point in her trying to understand him or his relationship. She opened her mouth wanting to ask at last the question that had been pressing on her lips since she had entered his room.

"Why did you want us to come here?"

He looked at her horrified and went pale, swallowing loudly, twisting uncertainly in his seat, looking away. She pressed her lips together, feeling that they both subconsciously knew answer to this question.

She thought that there was nothing wrong with what they wanted. Since he claimed he wasn't in a relationship with his assistant, and she wasn't in a relationship with Cregan, they were free people.

She looked at him, at his scarred cheek, at his artificial eye. She looked at his jaw, at his nose, his mouth, his hair. He was handsome, he was dark, cold.

She thought he attracted her.

“You can say it. It’s okay.” She said quietly and softly, wanting him to know that she wasn't judging or condemning him, that she appreciated how honest he was with her. She knew what she could count on and what she couldn't and it gave her a kind of security.

She saw him lick his lips nervously and move his shoulders, swallowing hard without looking at her, playing with the glass in his hand.

“I want it.” He whispered almost silently, his lower lip trembling as he spoke the words.

She lowered her gaze at his words, embarrassed, feeling her insides pulsate involuntarily at the very thought of what could happen between them. She lifted her gaze to him and, seeing that he still couldn't look at her, she set her glass down, moving closer to him, sitting on her knees.

She saw him look at her surprised and horrified as she grasped his large hand gently, her thumb running gently over his soft skin. They were both warm from the alcohol and the tension. She saw him swallow quietly, then lean back and set his glass down on the table.

He looked at her as if hesitating, and after surprising her by grasping her face in his hands, he moved closer to her, looking at her with slightly parted lips.

Only now could she see his scar more clearly, his glassy, artificial eye and the healthy one looking at her with a hazy, dark gaze.

She thought she was not afraid of him.

That she wanted to touch him.

When he leaned towards her she moved closer to him, their lips brushed uncertainly, tentatively. They both sighed and kissed again, just as gently, unhurriedly, as if to see if they liked the feeling, his lips firm and warm, tasting of wine. She threw her arms around his neck and he purred into her mouth, emboldened by the gesture.

Only now did she feel that he was much bigger than her, taller even than Cregan, she had the feeling that he encircled her whole person and she felt safe with that thought.

"I want to taste you." He whispered and she felt a powerful shudder, her insides clenching helplessly around nothing. "Will you let me?"

She felt shame at the thought of how much she wanted this.

She couldn't hide what was happening between her legs. As soon as he slipped her underwear off her thighs he could see what his words, his temper and his appearance were doing to her. He touched her leaking entrance gently, watching carefully for her reactions. She shuddered and moaned helplessly, delicate and hypersensitive.

He did what he wanted with her, teasing her clit with his thumb while sinking his finger into her hot entrance once in a while. She breathed loudly, trying to meet his expectations and answer his questions.

"− what made you so wet? − hm? − messages from your ex? −" He hissed, his finger sliding in and out of her with a perverted, sticky click of her own wetness. He tightened his lips as soon as she squirmed at his words, turning her head away, writhing beneath him.

"− answer me −"

"− no −" She mumbled with difficulty, and he hummed under his breath with the satisfaction, leaning between her thighs. She couldn't stand his subtle caresses, she hadn't expected him to be so gentle, the tip of his tongue teasing her entrance and clit, barely slipping in between her folds.

"− I fucking knew it − I knew you would taste wonderful −" He exhaled, pressing his nose against her warm womanhood. His tongue slided suddenly into her swollen, fleshy interior, licking her shamelessly, her hands tightened involuntarily on his hair pressing him closer, a quiet mewling came out of her mouth.

She was horrified at how close she had come to fulfilment, at how easily he had brought her body to such a state.

When she came on his face she lost touch with reality completely for a moment, panting loudly, clenching her eyes shut, the tickling heat spreading throughout her body, loosening her muscles.

She looked up at him sleepily when she heard the sound of fabric being unfastened and saw that his hands were at his zipper, his pupil dilated, his gaze thirsty and hot.

"You still want this?"

She nodded.

She let him carry her onto his bed, his arms holding her gently and tenderly. She hugged his neck and felt a pleasant buzz in her head as he laid her down on the sheets. She swallowed loudly as she watched him put a condom on his swollen, hard manhood and pressed her lips together at the thought of actually doing it.

She felt her insides pulsate again at the thought.

Her heart was pounding like crazy.

He leaned over her, his gaze full of something she couldn't name. It was dark, murky, but warm at the same time, full of affect, although she didn't know why. For some reason she sensed he would not be violent towards her and she felt a momentary relaxation.

"Already during the show I was wondering how to get you into my bed. How tight and hot you must be inside." He exhaled, guiding the tip of his cock against her hypersensitive entrance. She opened her mouth, drawing in a deep breath at his words.

Already during the show I was wondering how to get you into my bed.

That's why he was looking at her like that.

She felt a strong shudder pass through her at the thought.

When she felt him inside her she closed her eyes, sighing with effort and relief at the same time. He was big and pulsating, pushing her tight walls to their limits, making it hard for her to catch her breath. He looked at her as if he couldn't believe they were really doing this, his lips parted in an accelerated breath.

They both moaned in surprise at as he began to move inside her, slowly at first, as if he wanted to savour this moment and the feeling of her throbbing, warm walls.

After a moment, his hips began to accelerate, stretching her insides to the limit, pulsing on him with desire. She had already forgotten how wonderfully pleasurable it was, her lips parted in accelerated gasps each time he rubbed the point inside her that made her hot.

"− oh, baby −" He exhaled, speeding up, entering her with a loud, wet slap of flesh against flesh, looking at her with an expression of delight on his face.

She wasn't sure if Cregan had ever looked at her like that.

She felt her insides tighten around his length at that thought, with every thrust he made, the slap of his thighs against her buttocks, it felt better and better, as if she realised that she really did want this.

She wanted him.

She touched his cheek with her palm as he leaned down and kissed her tenderly, deeply, devotedly, pressing his forehead against hers.

"− you like it when someone takes care of you, don't you? − when someone fucks you properly −" He gasped fucking her faster and faster, she felt the whole bed creak beneath them, his hands clenched tightly on her hips, his body focused only on pushing his cock into her again and again.

She felt the heat in her lower abdomen reach its zenith again, a mewling sound erupted from her mouth that was also meant to be a pathetic confirmation of his words, her lips parted wide.

"− I'm gonna cum now, okay? − I'm gonna cum inside my sweet little girl −" He exhaled and she nodded quickly, feeling his words between her thighs, sensing that her fulfilment was rapidly approaching, that just a few more of his movements and she would come again.

"− oh, yes, please −" She mumbled, feeling his hand begin to tease her clit again.

They both moaned loudly into each other's mouths, feeling each other's orgasms, she heard him sigh helplessly as he felt her core clench violently against him again and again, his cock twitching and pulsing inside her in fulfilment.

Looking misty-eyed at his face, at his clenched eyes, feeling his nose pressed against her cheek, his lips trailing over hers, his trembling hot breath enveloping her skin, some part of her regretted that he had to use a condom, that she couldn't feel his semen inside her. She blushed at the thought, panting loudly, embarrassed at the idea.

They stroked each other's faces with their palms, breathing fast and trembling all over, trying to calm each other down, when suddenly someone started pounding on his door with their fist.

"Aemond? What the fuck? Who the fuck are you in there with?" She heard a raised, distraught female voice and looked at him with big eyes, horror on his face, he shook his head quickly, his mouth formed the voiceless words "Be quiet".

"Aemond!" The woman started pounding on the door and pawing at the handle, she felt her whole body start to quiver, she sobbed quietly. He laid on top of her and embraced her as if he wanted to comfort her and protect her from what was happening.

"You fucking bastard! Are you fucking this little girl? This little slut? God fucking damn you! How could you do this to me!" She heard her angry voice followed by sobs. She herself began to cry hearing it, in her head the words she had spoken.

Are you fucking this little girl?

This little slut?

Why did she feel like a whore if they weren't together?

"What have we done?" She asked in a terrified whisper, feeling his lips pressed against her temple.

"Shhh." He silenced her by stroking her head, she could feel his heart pounding hard.

He was as terrified as she was.

She cried out quietly in his arms hearing her for a moment longer, and then she heard someone in the distance open and close the door loudly.

Complete silence ensued.

She swallowed loudly, his hand steadily stroking her head snuggled into the hollow of his neck, only after a moment did she realise he was still deep inside her.

Seconds later he lifted himself up on his elbows, glancing down at her most likely to see what state she was in. She could see that he was also shaken, both of them looking at each other breathing unevenly.

"You can sleep here if you want. I'll give you my shirt." He said uncertainly and she blinked, her lips slightly parted in disbelief.

He was proposing that she stay with him for the night.

Probably through remorse.

She shook her head and saw that an expression of disappointment flashed across his face, his jaw clenched tightly, his nostrils moved anxiously.

"I can't. I'll be up all night dreading that she's coming here again. I won't sleep a wink." She explained in a trembling voice, wanting him to know that this wasn't about him. He swallowed loudly at her words and nodded, then slowly pulled himself out of her.

She gasped in discomfort and clenched her eyes shut, feeling a sudden chill and emptiness inside her, his hand stroking her cheek reassuringly.

"Shhh. Wait here a minute, okay? Don't go anywhere." He said pulling up his trousers and getting out of bed to disappear into the bathroom a moment later. She sat on his bed only now feeling that her whole body was shaking from stress, her eyes burning from crying.

A minute later he came out of the toilet, a wet towel and a glass of water in his hand. He handed it to her, his hand with the damp material slipped between her thighs. She clenched them, frightened, but he looked at her calmly.

"Let me. I don't want you to leave my room in this condition." He said lowly, and she felt a warmth spread over her heart that she didn't want to feel at all.

She relaxed her hips and felt the warm, wet towel wipe her clean of all her sticky juices, bringing her relief and comfort. She involuntarily took a few deep sips of water from the glass feeling her throat dry up after what had happened.

As soon as he finished he rose and she stood up with him, covering her thighs with her dress, moving on shaky legs towards the sofa to get her underwear, putting it on quickly. She felt him watching her alertly as she picked up her clutch bag and his briefcase of documents.

As she moved towards the entrance, putting on her shoes quickly, he followed her, doing the same as she did.

"What are you doing?" She asked surprised, fatigue, terror and alcohol mixing in her head.

"You don't think I'm going to let her catch you alone in a corridor somewhere after that scene, do you?" He asked coolly, and she swallowed loudly.

She saw him quietly grab the doorknob and open the door silently, leaning his head out, looking around. He nodded for her to follow him and they both started for the stairs, not wanting to wait in plain sight for the lift.

They climbed to her floor and only then did she feel relieved. However, they both froze and stopped in mid-step when they saw her father emerge suddenly from his room, apparently heading for her brother's apartment.

When he saw her, her tear-stained face his brow furrowed in a way she knew all too well, his accusing gaze falling on the Targaryen standing beside her.

"What happened?" He asked expectantly, she could feel her heart pounding hard, she thought she had to think of something quickly.

"Cregan has been nagging me all day and I felt bad during our conversation. Mr Aemond was kind enough to offer to walk me to my room to make sure I was okay." She mumbled being on the verge of crying again, looking at her father pleadingly.

He muttered under his breath and nodded at Targaryen, putting his arm around her and saying 'thank you for your concern'.

Before she entered her room she glanced at him apologetically over her shoulder, their tired gazes meeting for a moment before he turned and started down the corridor in the other direction.

Her father began to question her about what was going on and ordered her to show him what messages Cregan was sending his daughter. Feeling that she needed to somehow make her story credible she showed him textes she had been receiving from him throughout the day.

"Couldn't he finally decide on something? Why is he messing with your head like that? I'll talk to his father when we get back." He said angrily, ignoring her pleas for him not to do so and that they were no longer children in kindergarten. When her father left, angry and shaken, she called Royce quickly.

He was in her room after a few minutes.

He walked in smiling, but seeing her state and her red eyes he immediately furrowed his brow, looking at her anxiously.

"What's wrong? Cregan?" He asked walking up to her, putting his hands on her shoulders, as usual physically showing her his support. She pressed her lips together at his questions.

"Not only that." She whispered with a blush of embarrassment and shame not believing what she was about to say.

"I slept with someone." She mumbled, burying her face in her hands, shaking her head. Her brother threw her a confused yet amused look.

"Well… I told you to have fun. I just hope he didn't hurt you? Do you regret it?" He asked bending down to her level as if to see what the look in his eyes betrayed. She looked at him helplessly, lowering her hands.

"I slept with Aemond Targaryen…"

"WHAT?"

"…and when it was all over his assistant, who he is sleeping with but is not in a relationship with, started banging on our door when she heard us, screaming and crying." She mumbled out quickly on one exhale, wiping quickly the tears that were again flying down her cheeks, her brother looking at her in disbelief. He ran his hand through his hair, shaking his head.

"I, God, this is totally fucked up. If they're not together then why did she make him a scene?" He asked rhetorically.

"I have no idea! Maybe there's more to her than that though. She was already looking at me at breakfast after I exchanged a few words with him and I'm afraid she knows it's me. That she's going to say something to our father." She said in a trembling voice, Royce pressed his lips together.

"Has she seen you?" He asked uncertainly.

"No, but our father saw me and Aemond when he walked me to my room. He wanted to make sure this woman didn't catch me anywhere. I told him he only saw me off." She explained brokenly, seeing her brother's horrified gaze.

He let out a loud breath, burying his face in his hands as if he felt immense relief. He put his hands at his sides, looking at her with a mixture of awe and disbelief.

"Well, my little sister, I see that when you do have fun, you do it with pomp." He said amused and she burst into laughter at his words, somewhat relaxed by the fact that she had told him, that she didn't have to carry this burden alone.

Before bed she took a quick shower, wanting to refresh herself after what they had done. She realised to her surprise, standing under the drops of hot water falling on her body, that she didn't regret what she had done after all.

She couldn't erase his touch, tell herself that it hadn't been pleasant, that it hadn't given her pleasure.

She thought, sighing, that they were both adults, they had done what they wanted, and now their paths would part and everything would go back to normal. She thought she would call Cregan tomorrow and explain to him exactly how she felt, and if that didn't work, she would just block his number for a while.

She came out of the bathroom in her pyjamas and involuntarily reached for her phone wanting to see if Cregan had written anything else. She was surprised when she saw that she had received some direct message on Instagram from a strange account, but it didn't look like spam. She opened it and started reading.

She swallowed loudly feeling her heart pounding.

A.

Aemond.

She felt relieved and hot in her lower abdomen at the thought that he had found her, that he had made the effort just to write her that.

She knew that he must have seen that she had displayed the message and she didn't want him to feel that she was pretending that nothing had happened. She took a long time to respond and deleted and rephrased several times.

She felt a shudder when she saw that he had immediately displayed her message and wondered if he would write anything more. She felt a stab of disappointment when nothing appeared after a few minutes but decided it was still nice of him to write to her.

She shuddered when she heard the sound of a vibration, a notification displayed on her phone that she had received a new message on Instagram. She unlocked her phone with her heart pounding hard, wondering why it excited her so much.

She thought maybe it was because he seemed so withdrawn, dark, silent, and now he was talking to her of his own free will.

She pursed her lips as she read this and swallowed loudly.

He opened up to her.

He talked about his relationship.

She rolled over on her sheets, sitting up, thinking deeply about what she should answer to that. She didn't want to judge him or ask too in-depth questions, but she wanted to understand him.

She finally replied, her heart tightening.

Will this answer upset him? Was she too direct? She flinched as her phone vibrated again.

A short, cold answer. She swallowed loudly, sighing softly, not knowing whether she should write more or not.

She pursed her lips as she read this. Somehow their relationship was as complicated as hers and Cregan's. She wondered if she should advise him something.

She blinked, feeling her heart pounding hard.

Exchange of mutual benefits.

Objectification.

Had he done this to her today to make her go easy on his grandfather's deal and convince her father to sign it?

She swallowed hard at the thought.

He didn't answer her question for a very long time and she slowly started to fall asleep in her bed. She suddenly jumped up when her screen lit up after several minutes.

She pursed her lips as she read the messages that appeared quickly one after the other. She thought he had finished the rest of the wine that was left in his room.

She fell asleep almost immediately after sending the message, the alcohol numbed her completely and made her not wake up until the morning. She flinched when the alarm on her phone started ringing and she turned it off, glancing at the display. She saw then that she had received another message from him.

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Taglist

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[bueris]

not going home club (hiori yo)

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angst, hiori parent bashing, 1.9k words

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Music blasted in his ears, as loud as he could stand it, heavy bass and raggedly screamed lyrics drowning out his roommates conversation. God, guys his age could be so fucking loud and for what? To be stupid? Yeah, he was being salty but when wasn’t he, he just made sure no one else saw it.

Hiori remembered the sentence that made the headphones get brought out, it wasn’t even a full one…

“When I go home-” and that’s all he heard before he decided to tap out of the conversation. His headphones were in his hands and turned on before he really recognised what he was doing, getting frustrated with the way they refused to pair with his phone. They did eventually though, thank fucking god for that, and metal was playing through them soon after.

Sure, he felt slightly guilty for getting pissed over some small and insignificant comment his friend said. But he didn’t do anything, didn’t yell or get pissy so maybe he shouldn’t beat himself up so damn much. Still, though, he felt silly for getting so worked up for something so small but hey, he had his reasons.

The thought of going home felt physically repulsive, like he wanted to rip out from his skin and get as far away from the thought as possible. Whenever the thought crossed his mind it felt like his whole brain came to a full stop, like it hit a brick wall that prevented him from continuing along those tracks. 

Of course he didn’t want to go back, he had no plan to, actually. His parents didn’t give a fuck about him, Yo, the child they had, no they only gave a fuck about what he could do, pressing him into their shitty mould to coping with being second rate halfwits who couldn’t succeed with their own lives. Seriously, Yo’d seen those American pageant videos online, you know the one, dozens of little kids forced into the stupidest, most invasive procedures to live out the half baked dreams of their mothers who only wanted to live through them by dressing them up like they were a doll and not a person.

He related to those kids so fucking much it hurt, yeah he liked doing football now but in no way did that mean that he forgave his parents for being like that. The way waking up felt pointless and empty because the day would be filled with doing shit you had no fucking say in built up over years and crushed him with its void-like weight, soul sucking and soul crushing.

Sometimes he feels like he’d betrayed himself, his young self, the one who hurt his ankle and realised his parents didn’t really love him in the same few minutes, the one that desperately tried to be good so they’d keep loving him and more importantly each other, by learning to enjoy football in his own way. That petulant child kicked him on the inside, cleat covered foot driving its too-firm outsole into the backs of him eyes, reminding him of everything that drove him insane.

Yo didn’t really feel guilt about the resentment he harboured for his parents, no, he couldn’t. They really were exceptionally stupid, emotional creatures that were so desperate for the centre of the limelight that they just had to make a whole new person about it? He felt angry on behalf of his younger self too, how dare they do something so fucking selfish? How dare they play with him like he didn’t have his own personhood? How fucking dare they.

Ever since the incident on the stairs he’d doubted every ‘kind’ action they made, doubted the sincerity in them, doubted their motivations. It always felt forced but now he knew it absolutely was, there only just to fulfil his basic needs so he wouldn’t have a breakdown mid match or something, or god forbid, end up in therapy when he could be practising.

God it made him feel mental, how long could someone go without genuine human contact without losing it? He found out, sixteen years. Sixteen years and he still clung on. And he was mad he was clinging on, because he shouldn’t have to fucking cling to the edges of his stability with often-forced politeness, he deserved better.

And that’s why he would never go back home, when Blue Lock was over and he’d ultimately failed because being a striker wasn’t even his goal anymore he’d leave for Tokyo instead of home the second he was left unattended and disappear into the grey jungle and make it alone no matter what. Going home was the same as being stuffed back into a display home, and on top of that he’d have to deal with his parents coping with his failure.

The thought brought a smile to his face, actually, wouldn’t it be so fucking funny to watch their faces fall when his foot crossed the threshold? To watch as half of their lives crumbled into nothing with his very presence, to try and wrap their tiny minds around the fact they’d never get the spotlight they wanted. It was a gleeful feeling, to imagine they’d be crushed with hopelessness, folding under the weight of disappointment the same way he did when he realised he was only worth as much as his football was to them.

Often though, the anger and its accompanying vengeful joy shattered into pained fragments, stabbing and poking at him with an overwhelming sense of loss. If only his parents actually loved him, if only they could look at him and truly see him, witness his truth that strayed from the path they set out and still cradle him in their arms with love and sweet words.

It ached, that longing, constantly. Sometimes it was ignorable but most of the time he could tell it was there, looming over his head like the worst, most decrepit kind of shadow. An all consuming void that soaked up genuine praise like a parched sponge, but never felt full, never satiated. Sometimes he just craved to be held like he should’ve as a child.

Other times, that being most, the waves of anger intersected with the waves of sadness and they dulled each other out like opposite colours being mixed together, red and blue forced to co-exist in the childhood shaped hole in his mind. They cancelled out, filling the base of his being, the root of his psyche with a nothing colour that felt like it could block out the sun. That nothing feeling was so normal, it was everyday, it felt so weird because it was like walking around half deaf. The numbness didn’t feel like much, because he didn’t feel like much and he hadn’t for a very long time, the only breaks from it were filled with ugly feelings he’d rather ignore.

He felt tired a lot of the time, a consequence of the numbness sometimes and a result of his anger burning too bright at others. The tiredness after a bout of anger felt so bone deep, probably because it was, he had nowhere to put it and it dug through the fibres of his muscles and into his bone marrow and from the blood they produced the tiredness spread and filled him. Yo wished his anger could go somewhere, disappear off of his head like steam from water when he put his head on the pillow to finally sleep, he really wished it could.

Blue Lock felt like a monumental chore at first, playing along until he got far enough for his parents to not disown him instantly then quit and disappear. Oh, he wished he could disappear, pack his life into a bag or two and vanish from the face of the earth. Not only that, no, he wanted it to hurt. He wanted it to hurt his family, to watch them mourn the idea of their missing son, the tears they’d shed over their hopes dissolving in front of them as an intangible spectator. He wanted it to hurt him, to feel the guilt and the horrible impending doom of no longer existing as he stuffed clothes into bags until there was nothing left but the mementos that tied him to his parents that he would leave behind forever to collect dust in his empty room that was never really home.

It was a stupid childish fantasy, and a tragedy that he could only imagine half-genuine tears of half-genuine care being shed over him when he wasn’t there. But he could, if he wanted to, disappear into the city and never come back, be swallowed by its crowded streets never to be seen again.

It would be awful, the life of a teen runaway would never be easy, especially in the city. He’d considered the countryside too, miles of forest to hide in and less people to catch him. It would be easier to physically do too, to hop off the bus taking him back home, wait for it to leave and walk in the direct opposite of his house. But he wanted to live properly, live freely in society when he was of age and no longer required to be in his parent’s ‘care’, and he could only do that with a good job. Safe to say, he’d been planning this for a while, since he was a child.

God isn’t that awful? A childish plan that lasted so long it evolved, and all because two people decided to be selfish.

Yo sighed, the paper in front of him wasn’t getting any fuller, what a waste.

He wondered if his parents would’ve been happier if they hadn’t had him. Maybe they would’ve divorced and found something healthier to do with their time than reminisce, maybe his mother would’ve gone somewhere with her life instead of ending up as a miserable stay at home mother, maybe his father wouldn’t be so distant with her. Maybe, just maybe they would’ve moved on from their early peak and been happy.

And so, he felt guilty for existing sometimes, without him they could’ve moved on, had a happy life untethered by accomplishments they didn’t quite get, maybe even had a child they could love right. He kicked himself a little every time a ‘what if’ burrowed its way into his brain, that would never happen and thinking like that is useless because he’ll end up killing himself, and he intends to live long enough to abandon them.

Still, he rewatched the U-20 match sometimes, telling himself over and over that it was for the game play, but only focusing on the interviews at the end. With the glossy eyes of a child he’d watch them, watch as his peers spoke of their families, watch as their families spoke of his peers. There were highlights and social media posts that captured them embracing, the high emotions and the tears and the tight grip they had on one another that spoke of immense pride in them. 

Oh, he wanted that, he wanted it dearly because when they did it, it meant something, it was more than some self-congratulatory act. He wanted it, and he mourned all the times he never got it everyday.

And so, no matter what he’d leave them. No more watching himself from someone else’s perspective, no more living for anyone else, from the moment he stepped foot outside his parents property he’d become a member of the world’s loneliest club. The not going home club.

Yo gave up with the paper in front of him, putting the pencil down and taking his headphones off. The chatter had died down, everyone focusing on their work. Next to him, Isagi shuffled closer, their legs brushing. It was a small act but it fit a lot of worth into it, not going home meant finding a new one. He wouldn’t be alone.

------

also available on ao3!

thanks for reading ily <3

#hiori yo #bllk fanfic #bllk #blue lock #gave myself a headache writing this

[vintagemulti]

unbreakable

pairings: marc spector x reader , steven grant x reader

desc: there’s a reason wedding vows include “til death do us part”. want to find out why?

warnings: smoking, gun violence, swearing, harrow (hes a warning in himself), major character death, violence, injury, torture, reader is a killer

a/n: this one took a bit longer than the others but … you’ll see why. pls pls pls like and REBLOG!! reblogs do far more for writers than likes, so pls do it! also i should probably say i don’t normally proofread my fics, so if there’s any typos just use context clues or common sense lol. writers are human too🤷🏻‍♀️

series masterlist

masterlist

the air outside was far colder than indoors, but the heat of an egyptian evening was still much warmer than an average day in london.

you lit your cigarette, watching the people in front of you. they partied, not seeming to even notice the absence of their host. their host, who as you turned to look back inside the house, seemed to be speaking to your husband - the tension in marc’s jaw making it apparent that his temper was shortening.

blowing the smoke out of your mouth, you rolled your eyes. whatever anton was saying, marc would be angry about it for days. whatever peace you had created could be shattered if you didn’t stay on his good side.

you brought your hand to your temple, massaging the skin between your eyebrows. you could feel the heat of the lit cigarette on your forehead, but you didn’t even care if it began to burn you.

every part of you had known it would be a bad idea to come here. not wanting to admit it - prioritising layla’s safety (and your own, by extension) over some uncomfortable feelings - had most likely done more damage to the already strained marriage.

fuck, you thought. fuck anton, fuck his stupid face and fuck his massive house. you and marc had been on a good run, the possibility of a healed marriage actually being within reach for one.

but no. anton - ever the possessive one - just had to get a dig in there. you wished you could hear what he was saying, assess the damage before it was done. even from down here, you could see marc’s clenched fists - the few scratches that were still awkwardly placed on his knuckles reopening and springing red.

“those aren’t good for you, you know.” a voice spoke from behind you.

a voice you recognised. could it be? surely not. you spun on your heel, the red shirt catching your eye before anything else. it was him.

you swallowed. “what do you want?”

“i’m sorry,” harrow said. “this won’t be pleasant for you.”

a hand grabbed you from behind, forcing you backwards with so much force you dropped the cigarette that was between your fingers.

you were an idiot. you were unarmed, taken from behind, and a few glasses of champagne down. fuck, fuck, fuck. there was no was you could overpower the person behind you - they were strong, so strong you thought even their grip could break your bones.

so you did the only thing you though to do. scream. it was a technique taught to you by your old boss - that when in doubt and unable to fight back, scream as loud as you possible could.

the scream cut through the air, louder than the music from the party. you hoped and prayed it would be loud enough for marc to hear.

harrow didn’t seem to like the amount of noise you were making, scowling at you. his frown was the last thing you saw before he raised his cane, whacking you over the head with one of the crocodile busts.

the world went black.

-

your eyes took a few blinks to adjust to the darkness of the room, the space only being illuminated by a few candles in each corner. without having to ask, you knew where you were. well - not specifically, but you knew you were inside a pyramid.

the pouding in your head was disorientating, room spinning around you for a few seconds. a ringing formed in your ears, silencing the footsteps approaching.

against the duct tape over your mouth, your breathing was hot and erratic, coming out in short spurts rather than deep breaths.

“i do apologise for the pain,” harrow spoke. “but sometimes it in necessary.”

you glared up at him, writing against the restraints on your wrists and ankles. the wooden chair creaked and groaned, tipping slightly with every movement.

“i really wouldn’t.” he mumbled.

you tried to sneer a “why” at him, but it came out as more of a muffled groan - somehow, he still seemed to understand your question.

“because you will only hurt yourself more.” harrow waved his hand as if to dismiss you.

biting back a laugh, your eyes scanned over the man. he was wearing the same as before, red shirt and matching slacks. he balanced himself on his cane, one of the crocodile heads splattered with blood - your blood.

“but i suppose,” his eyes met yours. “a mercenary doesn’t care much for pain, not when they dish it out on a regular basis.”

you swallowed. something about his tone rang off the alarm bells in your gut, unsettling you and making the hair on the back of your neck rise.

it was only now that you thought of marc and steven and layla. would they be running around cairo, trying to find you? or would they be sat with mogart, oblivious that you were even gone? you prayed it would be the first option.

“do you know where we are?” harrow asked.

you shook your head.

“we are inside the resting place of one of ammit’s most famed avatars, can you guess who?”

mumbling a sarcastic comment against the duct tape, harrow seemed to remember the barrier was there. he walked over to you, ripping the tape off with such force you thought it might have taken the top layer of your skin off.

“go fuck yourself.” you spat at him.

harrow raised his hand to you, slapping your cheek. you didn’t flinch - his hit wasn’t particularly strong.

“you’d be smart to respect me, y/n spector. or should i say, y/n grant? which do you prefer.”

“it doesn’t matter, he’ll kill you either way.” the words came less of a threat and more of a promise.

it made him laugh, a devilish, soft chuckle. “if saying that makes you feel better, then be my guest.”

a beat of silence passed; “why am i here?” you asked.

“well,” harrow breathed. “you are the easiest way to get to marc spector, unfortunately for you. i believe you have information that could help the both of us.”

instead of biting back your scoff, you let it come this time. “you want me to sell out my fucking husband?”

harrow looked at you for a moment. “he isn’t much of a husband, is he?”

you bit the inside of your cheek. “the answer is no. no, i will not rat out marc for you.”

“so you do know something,” he raised an eyebrow. “see, you’re already telling me things.”

letting your head drop between your shoulders and feeling hot blood run down your face, you resigned to silence.

“what i need to know is simple,” harrow explained. “i need you to tell me where to find ammit’s ushabti.”

you felt a laugh crawl up your throat, pulling at your vocal chords and scratch past your lips. “go fuck yourself.”

he hit you again - harder this time. you were unlucky enough to accidentally bite down on your lip, teeth sinking into the skin as his palm hit your cheek.

the blood was hot and metallic in your mouth, the flavour dancing on your tongue and filling up your mouth. you felt the liquid run down your chin, dripping onto your cargos.

harrow lifted your head, his grip strong enough to bruise. “you cannot say i didn’t give you a chance. i amen’t able to promise you that my friends are so keen on talking.”

he let your head fall, another few sets of footsteps approaching. you didn’t even bother to look up, just squeezed your eyes closed until shapes formed behind your eyelids. if you looked hard enough you could see marc again, swirling in the darkness. there was steven, too, face appearing amidst the shapes and colours.

you hoped they’d find you. really - you did. over the last few years your pain tolerance had deteriorated, after all you hadn’t needed it. your work hadn’t got less dangerous, not really, but you’d gotten better. better aim, better stamina, better at getting out of situations before you were even in them.

but now there was no way out of the pain. you understood completely what harrow meant by ‘not too keen on talking’. unfortunately, marc’s version of not talking was far different from what you assumed these people had in mind.

the footsteps approached you, your head still hanging between your shoulders. one set came in front of you, another behind you. seconds passed.

a hand pulled your hair from behind, hoisting your head up with a burning in your scalp. opening your eyes, you saw a man in front of you - one you recognised from coming to steven’s flat a few weeks ago.

“you may not want to tell us,” his irish accent was thick, hanging in the air. “but you will.”

something punched you in the gut, completely taking the wind out of you. the stinging came quickly, leaving you unsure if a rib had been broken or not.

this was going to be a long night.

-

marc was just as frantic as you’d have expected, him and steven switching at least a few times a minute - something that only happened when both of them were extremely stressed.

it has taken them a few hours to work out where harrow had taken you, but during that time steven had proved that yes - he actually would move the heavens for you.

turning back the night sky by thousands of years was no easy feat, it turned out, steven collapsing as soon at the sky was in the right place. it came with sacrifices, too, the gods making good on their promise to turn khonshu to stone if he changed the sky once more.

but that didn’t matter, now now. layla’s foot almost hit the floor as she drove through the sand, pyramids only now coming into view.

“he better not have touched her,” marc grumbled. “i’ll kill him.”

“you’ll kill him?” steven asked. “i’ll bloody dissect him.”

“she’ll be fine, boys. y/n’s stronger than either of us know.” layla said in attempt to soothe them.

but even she wasn’t calm, fingers tapping against the wheel and her blinking becoming rapid. she could say all she wanted, but as time ticked on she couldn’t pretend that the chances of you remaining unharmed weren’t slimming.

“i know she’s strong, but he’s dangerous. and deranged.” marc snapped, electing to stare out of the window.

he couldn’t act like it wasn’t taking a toll on him, switching in and out of consciousness every few seconds. he was tired, stressed, angry, but above all terrified for you. much like layla, as much as he wanted to pretend that harrow wouldn’t have laid a finger on you, he knew deep down that using violence was the easiest way to get what you wanted.

now, he thought, they were truly fucked. not only did layla have people chasing her, but the entire concept of harrow had slipped his mind for a minute. he had forgotten how much of a threat you two had coming for you, that layla wasn’t the only person needing to look over her shoulder.

he was an idiot - he was sure of it. if he had went with you, not been so angry with mogart, if he hadn’t let you go by yourself - fuck, if he hadn’t dragged you into all this mess, forced you to stay home and let your injury heal. it was all his fault. you were gone, probably being tortured, and it was all his fault. all of this was his fault, his fault-

steven blinked. the landscape of the egyptian desert seeming strangely beautiful, even in the darkness - the sand rising up and down to form what looked like waves.

“how far away are we?” he asked, turning to look at layla.

“not far,” she said. “a few hours, at most. she’ll be ok.”

-

everything hurt. every part of your body was screaming in pain, crying out for a break.

you were sure you had at least three broken ribs now, along with a broken nose and new gashes to add to the collection of scars.

the black, long sleeve t-shirt you had been wearing was littered in holes, having either ripped from force or the edge of a blade. your skin was covered in cuts, blood feeling like it covered your entire body.

hours must have passed, you thought. almost the whole night, surely? if there was any windows, you’d have guaranteed that the sun would be rising.

what a funny thought right now. the sun, rising on you and your husband. you almost felt the head on your skin, and steven sitting next to you. why you imagined steven you weren’t sure, but even after being away from him for a few hours, the longing for him had settled into your stomach.

you missed his arms, his smell, his touch, his smile, his hair - everything. you would have done anything to feel steven’s soft, gentle touches right now.

soft, gentle touches that were greatly contrasted to the hits you were taking right now.

you felt another blow to your abdomen, this time being hardened by the toe of a boot. the pain didn’t even feel real anymore, just adding to the many bruises you could already feel developing.

“why are you so loyal to him?” a voice spoke from behind you for the first time.

if you had the strength to turn around, you would have.

“he’s hardly the worlds greatest husband.”

your eyelids felt heavy, head falling back, limp against your shoulders. the world turned upside down, but the space behind you was almost identical to the rest of the room.

“i mean,” the woman spoke. “he’s probably hurt you more than we have.”

using all your energy to scoff, you let your eyes close. maybe this was a new tactic to get you to speak.

“why does he do that?” she pushed herself off of the wall she was leaning against. “injure you, and leave the other one to clean you up?”

she walked round to in front of you, but you didn’t move - never mind acknowledge that she was speaking at all.

“your husband is sick, y/n.”

that made you move - pulling your head up to face her. “shut your mouth.”

“what? you know i’m right. he’s ill, his head is all messed up.”

you spat on the floor, seeing blood combined in the liquid. “you’re one to talk about messed up.”

“maybe,” she nodded. “but i don’t talk to myself in mirrors and speak in a random british accent when i feel like it.”

if you could have hit her, you would have. she was so painfully uneducated - as well as a bitch.

“you know it too, deep down.”

“know what?” you sneered.

“that you married a broken man - a broken man with a fractured mind.”

“my husband,” you pulled against the ropes again, pain of irritating the burn even further stinging in your wrists. “is not fucking broken, or sick, or fractured. he’s a human being.”

before she could retort, another set of footsteps approached, sound of crushing glass and tapping cane coming with them. you knew who it was before he walked through into the room.

“leave us,” harrow spoke, the two people instantly scurrying away. it made you laugh lightly - how completely devoted to him they were.

“i hear you still haven’t budged.”

“nope,” you said, popping the ‘p’. “i told you i wasn’t going to.”

harrow hummed, walking slowly around you. “you defend this information so much from us, it’s as if you don’t keep things from other people.”

“meaning?” you mumbled.

“does marc know why he almost died that night? the night he became a slave to khonshu.”

you swallowed, hot blood running down your throat. “he doesn’t need to know.”

“he doesn’t need to know?” harrow repeated. “or does he not deserve to know?”

“of course he does,” you snapped, hissing at a sudden pain in your chest. “but he doesn’t need to know.”

“no, i get it, i get it. what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him, right?”

silence fell upon the two of you for a few seconds, before you spoke; “why did you come back?”

“i’ve realised you are of no help to us, y/n spector.”

“no help?” you raised an eyebrow, but relaxed it after feeling the stinging in your forehead. “did you seriously think i would tell you fucking anything?”

“perhaps not,” harrow sighed. “but i thought your husband would have took the bait.”

you already knew why harrow had brought you here, the intention of leading marc straight to you being as clear as day. there was nothing you could do to prevent him from coming, though, only hoping when he did arrive he would be prepared to fight.

a cold metal against your forehead made you open your eyes, being met with a gun straight between your eyebrows.

you let out a small laugh. “you’re seriously going to kill me?”

no part of you expected him to pull that trigger, why would he? you could have been killed a hundred times over by now, harrow could have allowed his men to beat you to death, but no. you had something he needed to know and you were convinced he would do anything to get you to tell him.

maybe it’s a good thing, that you didn’t expect to die. perhaps it’s nice that your last thoughts were not of fear or regret - but of calmness. sureness in yourself, that you were two steps ahead.

but no. despite everything you were so sure of - everything you would have bet your life’s savings on, arthur harrow pulled the trigger.

you didn’t even know you had died, it happened to quickly. you didn’t hear the bang, because by that time, your brain was in a million little pieces on the floor.

“this may persuade your husband to tell me himself.” harrow said to your corpse.

he walked away, crunching of glass following in his step, leaving you in the room. you had fallen back in the chair, body laying on the stone floor.

blood seeping into the stone, your lifeless eyes stared into nothing, smile still half etched onto your face.

strange. you were so utterly convinced he wasn’t going to kill you. oh well, now the real fun could start - afterlife, here you came. and the funniest part? regardless of what harrow thought, you had no fucking idea where ammits ushabti was - you just pretended you did in attempt to keep your life.

#moonknight #moon knight #moonknight x reader #moonknight fanfiction #moonknight imagines #moonknight imagine #marc spector #marc spector fanfiction #marc spector imagines #marc spector x reader #marc spector imagine #steven grant #steven grant fanfiction #steven grant imagines #steven grant imagine #steven grant x reader #jake lockley #jake lockley imagine #jake lockley x reader #jake lockley imagines #jake lockley fanfiction #marvel #marvel x reader #marvel imagine #marvel imagines #marvel fanfiction #the glass series

[msdrag0nfly]

Bakugo x reader

✨Meeting him✨

You were new at UA, and you were nervous about your first day. you felt the butterflies dancing around your stomach as you began making your way through the confusing hallway, as you did this you noticed a group of people huddled around a tallish boy (around 5’8) With blonde spiked hair and a irritate, stern expression, all of the people who huddled him seemed to be poking fun at him only making his expression become angrier by the minute.

You stared at his slouched messy appearance as you recognised him from somewhere but you don’t know where from- oh it’s that boy Bakugo from the sports festival last year you thought to yourself and with that you made a mental note to try and get to know him later.

As the day progressed, you found yourself sitting two rows away from Bakugo in every lesson- you only knew this because his spiky hair made it impossible to see the lesson on the board so you watched him instead as you had heard of his poor reputation of being brash and over-reactive however after inconspicuously watching him you found he was actually quite hardworking and intelligent and you could see his passion for heroism clearly.

After school you approached him cautiously after all you knew what people said about him and besides it was your first day and you weren’t intending on dying today of all days (how embarrassing). “Hi I’m y/n ur you can call me n/n* I’m new here and I just wanted to introduce myself” to your greatest surprise he didn’t get angry and yell instead he just said “got it. Just don’t get in my way and we won’t have any problems”- cocky but that’s better than getting your head blown up.

Over the following months you had become friends with bakugos friend group- the Baku squad as other students called them and even may I dare say become friends with Bakugo due to the countless nights of studying for the tests your unmerciful teacher Mr Aizawa had given out. With each study date and training session that went by you found yourself deeply enamoured by Bakugos determination and willpower which deeply inspired you to work hard and pursue you out Dreams whilst developing on your quirk abilities.

You could tell behind his tough exterior there was a caring personality because sometimes whilst training or studying he would go out of his way without being asked just to come and help you and others out by giving advice and offering to spar even if he was cocky whilst doing so.

One Friday as you headed to the corner shop to top up your dorm snacks you heard a loud scream filled with terror. Turning on your heel you bolt towards the dark alleyway in which the scream had came from where you found a middle school boy on the ground crying holding his bloody head and a man with shoulder length greasy blonde hair and a grey dirty hoodie sprinting away you activate your quirk not caring if you could get in trouble for doing so and use it to catch the villains attention who turns to stare at you before activating his own quirk where he nearly triples in muscle size and double in height which is then used to over power you and throw you aside like garbage. As the villain walked towards you you felt fear and prayed to all the Gods for some form of strength when suddenly BANG! As the smoke cleared your vision you saw Bakugo standing palm out facing the villain the next thing you saw was black.

When you woke up in the hospital you saw your friends Mina, Kirishima, Denki and Bakugo sitting down talking together. “OMG guys they’re awake they’re awake!” Mina squealed with excitement. You felt confused trying to recall what had happened. You were told that Bakugo - your friend had bravely saved you and you had suffered a concussion. When you were discharged from the hospital you went to Bakugos door knocking. When it opened you thanked the ruby eyed boy to which he responded with a scoff and told you that you needed to train more.

“Stop being so rude Bakugo I do train and you know that” you state feeling embarrassed and upset

“I know you do stop being so sensitive it was a joke I’m sorry” he said apologetically- wait did he just apologise? you thought which made you laugh because over the past few month you hadn’t heard him apologise to anyone even when he had thrown poor Midoryia into a wall- this made you chuckle “oi what are you laughing at?” He asked almost threateningly. Not wanting to actually die this time you change the subject “Nothing, nothing anyway how did you find me?” You asked curiously “you butt dialled me idiot and your snap maps were on so I found you” you laugh at the absurdity of his response which also makes him laugh with you.

You then realised you had made a true friend. Bakugo wasn’t as mean as everyone thought.

*n/n=nick name

#katsuki bakugo x reader #mha bakugou #mha fluff #mha oneshot #oneshot #fanfic

[parcequecestnotreprojeeeet]

Actually, I wanted to write a third part to "Hands" and "A week later", but then came the desire for a change of perspective. So I thought about it and that's how it came about. Kind of a mixture of both. Your Strawberry

When both feel the same

Her hand was in the exact spot where his hand had been. A whole week had passed since they had kissed at that door. A week in which she had relived that kiss over and over again. A week in which she had longed for him. A week in which she had wanted to forget everything. That kiss and that boy had haunted her into her dreams and she could think of nothing else when she saw that door. She was torn between her feelings and her mind.

In a moment he would ring the doorbell and she would have to face him. All week she had avoided being alone with him. It had cost her so much strength to just carry on. Then today at drama club he had asked her if they would meet to write. Her head had roared "No", but her heart had screamed "Yes". Completely beside herself, her voice had taken over the decision for her and without revealing the chaos inside, she had said "yes". She herself had been shocked at how normal she had sounded. Then she had seen his hopeful look and the chaos inside her head had gone silent.

"Maman, are you all right?" her daughter asked from behind her. "Of course," she brought out with a smile and took her hand from the door. "I forgot what I wanted," she explained and walked into the living area. Her daughter looked after her in confusion, then shook her head and ran into her room.

He had come and they had written the play for a while. Then her daughters had decided to go to their friends again that Friday. Since her husband and son would not be home until the next day, she was alone with him again. Nervously, she had sat down next to him and they had started talking to each other. After a short time, they had kissed again. The attraction between them was so strong that they both couldn't stop it and didn't want to.

She had interrupted the kiss because everything was happening much too fast. Then he had surprised her by already talking about a future together. His words had shaken her and at the same time she had recognised her own desires in them. As crazy as it sounded, she had the feeling that this young man was the man she wanted to spend the rest of her life with. But no sooner had he spoken his words than he left her house.

For a moment she stood frozen and watched him go. Then she felt her body give a jolt and she ran after him. In the front doorway she stopped. "Wait," she called, her heart beating wildly. He did indeed stop. "Don't go," she pushed after him and she heard her voice break. He turned to her and glared. She bit her lip in nervousness and the pain she felt loosened her stiffness. She held out her open hand to him and noticed how it trembled slightly with tension. Her gaze caught his and slowly he came back to her.

His hand grasped hers and she pulled him back into the house. As he stood in the hallway, she closed the door and her hand lay again where his had been for the past week. Her gaze lingered on her own hand and this time it was he who stood between her and the door. His hand gently rested on her arm and he pulled her hand away and placed it on his heart. Their eyes found each other again and she saw all the emotions that were also raging inside her. "I've been thinking about it all the time too," he confessed softly and she wasn't surprised that he knew exactly what she had been thinking about.

"You know exactly what you want and you're brave enough to say it," she said softly and he nodded. "Maybe I shouldn't tell you this, but you deserve to know," she began and closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them again, he saw warmth and confidence in them. "Your idea of a future together has shaken me. But not because I can't imagine it, but because I felt you were saying my thoughts out loud." She paused and let her words sink in him.

Astonished and full of curiosity, he looked at her. "I have absolutely no idea how it's going to work, but the thing that already connects us is so special that I can't give it up," she explained, smiling tentatively. Gently he pulled her to his chest and with a sigh she let her body fall against his.

Hellooo sweet 🍓! ❤️

This combination of Brigitte’s point of view and a continuation of “hands” and “a week later” was perfect. They are struggling, they are are trying to fight it but they are also giving into it every single time, step by step. I will never get tired of saying how normal and natural you make it sound and it gives it an extra touch of special.

Thank you so much, Strawberry! ❤️❤️❤️

#fanfic #strawberry

[resident-gay-bitch]

My prongsfoot hc is actually really simple. They were each others first kiss, for practicing of course. But with the time they realize it's more than just platonic or brotherly love. James realizes first, bc he grew up in a loving household and when he is in love he is the all or nothing type of guy. Sirius on the other hand never really knew true love until he found it with James first. He's already overwhelmed by being loved as he is platonically. So he takes more time to figure out that this love literally could reach another level. I don't really know how they realize and how they confess, but what I know is, that nothing really changes. From all characters of the fandom Sirius and James are the ones with true soulmate potential. I could imagine that when one realizes and he confesses it's like 'fuck, I don't know what to do, we can talk about everything, but I can't talk about this, bc it's about you and it's killing me bc I don't know how to act around you anymore' but when it's reciprocated it just happens like it never was different.

I dunno this might be really lame and average thought but I love them so much.

And it's not that they are the one and only ship for me. I'm as well into wolfstar or Jegulus. U know ship them all idc. But they are really special and true to me. And normal! For me they are just normal u know? Like what I love about the thought of prongsfoot in a romantic way or when I read fics about them is that when they finally figure out they're more to each other than friends or chosen family, they act so natural. Like nothing about kissing each other the first time or whatever is strange to them. It's new, yes. And of course they are hell of excited, bc when you're in love you can't stop your body from reacting to those feelings. But it just feels right. And once they took the first step they just fall with it. When they make their first experiences they can laugh bc they don't really know what to do and they can say it out loud without hesitation and it doesn't ruin the mood bc they're still James and Sirius. And I love the thought that these two blokes have the most healthy relationship ever. They know each other better than they know themselves, they observe each other, they accept each others flaws like 'I know you are like that sometimes and you have issues with this or that but I've got you. Take your time and I'm here.' and they would also be like 'I already know that but thank you for telling me that I'm an assohle sometimes. I will work on that and you already made a better person of me.' when they struggle with anything, like each others bad habits they would do anything to make it work out bc neither of them could ever imagine being without each other.

THIS!!! EXACTLY THIS!!! I AGREE WITH YOU SO MUCH OH MY GOSH!!!

yess it’s just like nothing even changes. I think I responded to my last ask with a head cannon so much like this that I love. Like it just kinda flows, there’s no awkwardness or big changes they need to adjust too. It’s not even weird for the people around them because they’re still exactly the same they just get to kiss now!

They’re so special to me too. I love them so much. Like I love wolfstar and Jily and jeggy and like so many other ships too, I’m big on rarepares and that as well, but prongsfoot is so deer to me (see what I did there?!). I love them so much, and it’s probably the demisexual in me but FUCK I ADORE THEM IN EVERY ASPECT!

It is not really lame and average, thank you so much for sharing anon because I completely agree. I love that we share that headcannon! <3

The only difference for me is that I think sirius recognises his feelings first. As you said, James was raised with love and is very deeply immersed in all that good crap that it just doesn’t even occur to him really. He just knows he loves sirius as a super close best friend and doesn’t put any more thought into that. He’d do anything for sirius, but his parents taught him that you feel similar ways for anyone you love so why would it be different? He just remains oblivious for a while.

But Sirius? It drives him crazy. He notices immediately because what the fuck how is he in love with his best friend and also a boy?! The thought has him so anxious but whenever James is near he just looses all anxieties and melts into him. James doesn’t take long to figure it out, I imagine Peter or Remus or someone would make a teasing remark about his crush on Sirius or something and he’d be like OH!!!

I do love how you perceive it though, and it definitely makes so much sense. Them in anyway makes so much sense to me :)

#i adore them #prongsfoot #jay answers #thanks anon! <33

[pandoradoesotherstuff]

The Moon in His Night Sky

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

A/N: Back on my Kollok: Council of the Gods bullshit. 🙈😂 I watched the last episode out of a full series and just fixated on it apparently. 🤦 Now instead of the God of Charm let me introduce you to the God of Night.

It's sad, it's angsty and it's forbidden love.

Enjoy! ❤️

(both GIFs by my best girl @astrandofgold/@ragingdumpsterfire ,😘)

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

It takes Night a while to track Moon down, weaving through the crowds of fellow Gods and Goddesses. He grits his teeth every time he's stopped, trying hard to make polite conversation and look as though he was paying attention. (He wasn't). Instead his eyes were scanning the room for any signs of her, ears pricked for the sound of her voice.

Eventually Night spots Moon through a doorway into one of the side rooms, thankfully alone, her back to him but he'd recognise that waterfall of silver hair anywhere. He looks around to make sure he enters the room unseen and quickly locks the door behind him, the last thing he needs is prying eyes trying to interfere where they don't belong.

Night pauses at the door taking in her sight before him, it had been a long time since they had been alone together, far too long. He can't help but smile fondly as their eyes meet in the reflection of the window Moon was looking out of. Chocolate brown meeting midnight sky. She returns the soft smile, eyes not leaving his until he stands next to her. They both look out at the swirling cosmos outside, enjoying the peaceful moment between them. Moments like these were few and far between.

"How have you been Night?" Moon's voice was just as soft and lulling as he'd remembered it. "Feels like its been an age since we last spoke, doesn't it?"

"I've been well". Night stands agonisingly close to her without actually touching. The gentle heat from her skin radiating through his clothing, urging him to reach out and touch, her light floral scent invading his senses, clouding his mind but he can't do a single thing about it. "All the better for seeing your beauty my dear".

"Niiiight....", she says playfully with a stern edge. Their eyes briefly meet again and she shakes her head with a sad smile.

Night knew he shouldn't say things like that, no matter how light a comment but he was finding it near impossible to stop himself. They'd danced around each other for eons now, unspoken feelings weighing on their souls for millennia.

"Moon, I have to say it. I can't pretend anymore that I don't feel anything! How long must we do this to ourselves?"

"Night, don't. Not now. We can't, you know we can't!"

"Moon please, I lo-"

"-No! It's...this... fuck!" Moon is biting on her bottom lip, staring at the floor with eyes that brim with sadness. She takes a deep breath, collecting herself before starting again. "I know what you're going to say and I, well, I do too. God that's weird to finally say out loud...But you're married Night, it's hard for me you know, to see you up there with her knowing that whatever I feel can't ever come to anything. So go, please, get out of here and leave me be! Enjoy time with your wife".

Night's mouth opens and closes a few times but for once the words that usually fall so easily from his lips have abandoned him. His heart aches as Moon blinks back tears that she refuses to let him be witness to.

"I-I see, of course. Whatever you wish". Night presses a kiss to the corner of her mouth, lips lingering against her skin for a second or two before turning to leave.

"Good bye Moon".

The door clicks shut behind him, leaving Moon in the empty silence of the room once more. It had felt comfortable before but now it was cold and empty. Only now does she allow her tears to fall freely.

#kollok council of the gods #kollok #god of night #god of night x oc #god of night x you

[my-head-is-an-animal]

Caustic: An Origin Story

Caustic/Alexander Nox x Original Female Character

Rating: 18 +

Chapter 1

My name is Captain Jessica Wells and I was his research assistant, nothing more, nothing less. I kept to myself, I did my work and I went home. On rare occasions when he was in a bad mood I would help him bandage up any wounds that he refused to get treatment for, my previous job was as a field doctor and I was very good at it, better when I had a little more than a few seconds to treat anyone’s injuries.

    But I was dismissed from the army and sent back home. Honourably discharged at the age of twenty-five. What a state to have been left in. I had no prospects other than in the science field, I couldn’t go back into a warzone, I just couldn’t. They call it PTSD or shell shock sometimes, it means I can’t hear a loud noise like a pop or a bang without immediately reaching for some form of weapon and hiding beneath an armoured truck, only to find that I’ve picked up a random object and have slid into the cupboard beneath the kitchen sink.

    Once I got back home, I needed to look for work immediately, but no one was hiring war veterans and certainly not ones that showed the reality of what war actually did to you if you stayed there long enough. I applied for hundreds of jobs and was turned down from all of them, until I saw a small advert looking for a lab assistant with the famous Humbert Labs. It was a huge opportunity and one I was certain I wouldn’t get, but I managed to secure an interview nonetheless and passed through the first stage with suspicious ease.

    The second stage was an obscure set of questions asking me about my scientific experience and any personal commitments, of which I had none. I told them I’d just come back from war so friends were significantly lacking and I had yet to discover any worthwhile hobby to occupy myself with. I thought at that point it was a negative on my part, but the next day I received a phone call saying I would be taken to the labs for the final stage.

    I met Dr Nox seconds after sitting down in the waiting area, he scanned over the room where there were four other very pretty interviewees, each looking more cosmetic than the last and I rolled my eyes so hard internally that I barely noticed doing it externally. That earned me a look from Dr Nox that I didn’t quite understand just yet, but I would come to recognise it as amused approval.

    One by one the other four were taken into the office and each interview seemed shorter than the last with each woman leaving slightly more upset as they went on. I took a deep breath and soon found out why. Dr Nox was a very intrusive man, not so much physically, he kept a significant distance between us, stating that he didn’t want me to feel uncomfortable and if I did, then I should let him know immediately.

    The interview was long and I couldn’t understand why all those women had left in such a bad way, he was a perfectly reasonable individual, he knew what he wanted, knew what he liked and the position I was applying for was to simply allow him the room to conduct his research away from prying eyes. Perfectly reasonable.

    I managed to get the job and according to the other staff in the surrounding labs, I had kept the job a lot longer than any other assistant had managed. Six months didn’t seem like that long, but then it also didn’t feel like it had been a whole six months since I started, time had flown by and yet, I had gotten to know Dr Nox about as well as anyone ever had.

    He disliked anyone intruding on his personal labs, the area that I occupied just outside wasn’t so much of a concern for him and I quite liked the solitude from time to time, but beyond the door behind my desk was a strictly no-go zone, it didn’t matter who you were, unless he’d given you express permission and informed me, you weren’t getting in there.

    I kept a note of things he felt were important to him, files, plans, ideas and some objects that I partially recognised from one experiment or another and made sure that if they were left out, they were tidied away before I left for the evening.

    I learnt to recognise his small gestures and expressions, some of which were easy, like if he was about to get extremely angry or if he just wanted to be left alone, others took me a little while to catch onto, things like amused approval, exhaustion or hunger setting in and one that shocked me more than anything, concern. Dr Nox rarely showed concern for any living things, the only exception was Natalie Paquette a young girl and daughter to one of Nox’s close friends and even then, it was only when she was in the medical wing after a bad electrical shock and he asked me go down and check up on her for him.

    At the time, I wondered whether I should have said I was there for Dr Nox, but decided to keep it to myself and make out like I was there of my own accord having gotten a little closer with the young girl. I reported back and watched the subtle shift in his shoulders as the tension released and his curt nod, before quickly getting back to work. Concern.

    People would often ask how I managed to survive so long working under the sadistic scientist, but the truth was I loved my job, it was easy, keep Nox happy and I could be happy. I wasn’t in the business of impressing people or higher ups, supervisors or even Nox himself, I think he respected that and that was how I managed to stay in the job for so long.

    Of course, over the time I had been working in the labs, I’d had a couple of episodes which hadn’t gone unnoticed by my boss. He was kind enough about it, acknowledging that the war still plagued me somewhat. He wasn’t comfortable with the subject and I really didn’t need him to be, just accepting. However, it was time I did something about it and I wondered how he would take it.

    ‘Dr Nox,’ I knocked on the door, entering of my own accord as he preferred me to do and only after he’d finished writing a few notes. ‘Sorry to disturb you, but I wondered if I might get a quick word with you at some point today?’

    I’d never seen his head move so fast towards me, his pale eyes scanned my whole being, something he regularly did, not because he was checking me out or doing anything inappropriate, but more because he wasn’t sure how to best judge the situation and was taking in his surroundings; again, it was just a thing he did and it never bothered me.

    ‘Is there something wrong?’ He asked, not moving, but still keeping his gaze fixed with mine.

    ‘Not with my work, no. I just need to talk to you about a private matter that may affect my work.’ Upfront and honest, exactly what he preferred.

    ‘If it’s important, I can make time now.’ Dr Nox was always like that, if I wanted to tell him something I deemed important then he would drop everything to listen, I knew he disliked doing it, so I tried to avoid bringing anything to his attention unless it was crucial.

    ‘It’s not so important for you to stop working,’ I interrupted him and watched him stop tidying a few things away. ‘It can wait until you’ve finished whatever you’re doing, I just want to know that I can talk to you for a minute or two today.’

    ‘Of course.’ Dr Nox nodded and looked at his watch. ‘I should finish this experiment in forty-five minutes, would that be an adequate time for you to return?’

    ‘Any time is a good time for me,’ I smiled. ‘I’ll come back when you’re ready.’

    The reality was, I was quite nervous to talk to him, Dr Nox wasn’t an overly intrusive man like I had first thought, but he was sometimes a little difficult to handle and hard to talk to about anything that wasn’t related to his work. I didn’t mind, I rarely had anything to say, but when I did, he was awkward and scrambled for the correct things to say. I told him a thousand times that there wasn’t a correct thing to say, just whatever was on his mind was good enough.

    I had been on a date the month previous with a man I quite enjoyed spending time with and when I had walked into work with a smile on my face, Dr Nox noticed. He asked questions about the date, things I enjoyed, things I didn’t and then he stopped speaking altogether and stated he didn’t know how to proceed, I’d told him it was fine, we didn’t need to talk about it if it made him uncomfortable, but he didn’t respond and soon we got back to work.

    Only thirty minutes had passed when Nox came out of his lab to tell me he had finished.

    ‘Already?’ I said, a little startled by his sudden appearance, it was almost unheard of for him to come to me with anything.

    ‘You’re surprised?’ Another thing about Dr Nox, he had a fun side, it was rare to see it, but on occasion he would tease me about one thing or another, nothing major, just friendly banter here and there. ‘Why don’t we head into the office?’ I nodded and went to stand up, shuffling a few things around on my desk. ‘I’ll make some coffee.’

    Well, that was new, Dr Nox never made his own coffee, at least, I’d never seen it happen. I quickly finished up and wandered into the office where, sure enough, he was sitting back in his chair reading through something on his tablet and sipping his steaming coffee. I took the seat opposite and noticed a second cup with coffee in it, did he really make another human being a coffee? Me?

    ‘Apologies.’ He said, putting the tablet down and turning to face me, smiling a little. ‘Black with one sugar, I’m not forgetting, am I?’ That was how I liked my coffee best, I was okay with more or less sugar, even a dash of milk didn’t bother me, but my favourite way to enjoy coffee had always been black with one sugar.

    ‘I didn’t realise you knew how to make coffee, let alone take orders.’ I teased, making him half laugh. ‘Thank you, you didn’t have to.’

    ‘No, but you seem nervous, so I presumed it might make you more comfortable.’

    I suddenly frowned, stopping myself before I took a sip. ‘Wait, have you put something else in this? Some kind of truth serum? Or… I don’t know, an aphrodisiac.’ At least it made him laugh, I sipped the hot liquid, knowing that he would never have put anything in it without my permission, we’d covered that in week one.

    ‘I imagine if I had broken one of your rules, you would know immediately and I would suffer severe consequences. Suffice to say, it would be more hassle than I have time for.’

    ‘Oh really? So that’s the only thing stopping you.’

    ‘That and you’re psychologically corrupted, so it wouldn’t be a fair experiment, too many variables.’

    We both chuckled. This was the banter I enjoyed, acknowledging each other’s faults and mocking them in a gentle way.

    ‘Actually, that’s what I wanted to talk about,’ I swallowed, noting that Dr Nox took on a slightly more serious expression. I felt his gaze on me and knew that I was the only thing holding his attention, it was just something he did out of respect, I never asked for much, but when I did, he made sure to at least show me the respect of listening, even if there was nothing he could or I wanted him to do about it. ‘I…I haven’t exactly…’ I so rarely felt my courage faltering. ‘This is difficult for me to say, so please forgive my stuttering, I’m not trying to make things awkward for either of us.’

    ‘Take your time.’ He said, gently and relaxed back into his chair, sipping his coffee and patiently waiting. I couldn’t recall a time when I had seen him this way.

    I took a breath and tried to be brave. ‘I haven’t been coping well… since the war…’ I swallowed again. ‘I don’t… I don’t tend to sleep well, I’ve had more episodes at home, but just because I live in quite a noisy building… it’s easier when I’m here, it’s quieter… I went to a doctor and he suggested I go to a group… to talk about the war.’ I swallowed again and shook my head. ‘I’m sorry, I just… I’ve never really had to deal with anything like this for myself before.’

    ‘Jessica, you don’t need to apologise,’ Dr Nox suddenly said, raising his hand to stop my stuttering. ‘And you do not need to be nervous in approaching me with issues such as these. I’m not a medical doctor, nor can I relate to your personal struggles, but you know that, so there must be another reason you are telling me about this.’

    I smiled and half sighed. ‘The group meet once a week and the first meeting is tomorrow, I’ll need to leave early to make it on time.’

    Dr Nox took a deep breath and nodded. ‘I’ll allow it.’ He had that cheeky grin, the one that made me forget why I was nervous in the first place.

    ‘You’ll allow it?’ I shot back playfully. ‘As if you own my time? As if you are going to stop me from simply leaving?’

    ‘I wouldn’t dream of stopping you from doing anything,’ he chuckled. ‘As previously discussed, it would be more hassle than it’s worth.’

    I laughed and just watched him for a moment. ‘Thank you for letting me do this.’

    ‘You don’t need to thank me, but may I ask you something?’ I nodded and sipped more of my coffee. ‘Do you enjoy working here?’

    ‘Of course, I do. Why do you ask?’

    ‘Not everyone has enjoyed their time with me, as you would have noted four months ago from the email from Dr Humbert, I tend to get through assistants quite quickly.’

    ‘That’s probably because they all tried to shape you into something you’re not, tried to tame you in some way.’

    ‘And you don’t think you’ve done that as well?’

    ‘Well, if I have, it wasn’t intentional.’ I suddenly had the feeling we were talking about something else. ‘Dr Nox, I never tried to change you, I just tried to make sure you were happy in your work, left you alone when you wanted peace, made sure you ate when it was clear you weren’t going to take on that responsibility yourself, and you always seemed to work better for it. Have I done something wrong?’

    ‘No.’ He said, softly. ‘Not a single thing.’ He smiled. ‘I just want to make sure that you are happy here… I would rather not have to look for another assistant and I doubt I could find one with your… personality.’

    ‘My personality? Well, that’s quite the compliment.’ I smiled.

    ‘Indeed.’ He nodded and watched me for a moment. ‘You are more than an adequate colleague, Jessica. I would rather not lose you.’

    ‘Is that your way of saying I’m great at my job and you like me?’

    ‘It is.’

    ‘Good, I’d rather not have to leave either.’ I smiled.

    ‘If there’s anything else you require of me, do not hesitate to ask.’

    ‘Wouldn’t dream of it.’ I stood up grabbing my coffee. ‘Now, come on, enough with the chit chat, back to work.’

    Nox laughed and stood up to his towering six foot four height, I somehow never found it especially intimidating. ‘Yes, ma’am.’

If you liked this, please consider supporting me ☕ thanks for reading!  

#caustic #alexander nox #caustic x reader #alexander nox x ofc #caustic x ofc #apex legends

[tommyspeakycap]

Shelby!Sister getting poisoned whilst at dinner with the whole family?

changed it up a bit; reader is roofied at one of Tommy’s fancy ball type parties and there’s one particular gentleman around to help her out.

Good Team

Tommy had, since you were merely a little girl, endeavoured to introduce you emphatically as (y/n) Shelby, with your surname stated soaked in ferocity and warning. You are a Shelby. You are his little sister. He makes sure people know this. He makes sure they’re aware. He sees it as a pre-warning, the kind that lets them know that you are very very important to him without actually saying those words. He sees it very much as a pre-warning for grievous bodily harm had any trouble befell you at another persons discretion. It was made incredibly clear from the moment you were born that you were so far from off limits to the enemies that it didn’t even need to be spoken.

However, it was a relatively occasional occurrence that this message was not accurately conveyed no matter how clear your elder brother was about the matter.

You were usually so cautious and so careful, but you were in your brothers own ballroom with his own supplied champagne and you had very few worries of such a simple business gathering for Christmas. You were adorning an extortionate dress that Tommy had made for you with a beautiful fur shoulder wrap, cheeks dusted with a champagne blush and a gorgeous smile as you mingle with rich business people and rich couples who were born into money. They were amazing at times to ogle at, coming from such a poor background. It was hard enough to adjust to your new life flaunting pretty dressed and walking around with a purpose and a job that had significant purpose.

But it would be safe to say you weren’t so worried around these people. You should’ve known better.

You keep blinking, squeezing your eyes shut to try and find vision again that wasn’t restricted by blurriness. The heels on your feet didn’t aid you much in the way of keeping your balance as you stumble into a long hall. You don’t remember where you last saw Tommy and you can’t remember where the glass you were holding had gone. You don’t know much, but you know you have to find one of your brothers.

Heavy footsteps behind you send a rush of hazed adrenaline through your veins, forcing your legs to move you faster, your arms scratching off paintings lining the walls as you attempt to use the wall as a stabiliser.

“Someone’s ‘ad a bit much, eh?”

Your eyelids flicker as you try to keep them open against the light that makes you feel like your head is exploding. “No, no I- there’s someone trying to get me!” You hiss in a slurred whisper with arms that flail somewhat aimlessly as you attempt to point out the person behind you. The man with his his on your biceps steadying you leans around to get a good look behind you. “Mhm, there me no one there love.” He says, confused. You can only vaguely make out who the person is that holds you up and it’s someone you know your brother only invited so as to attempt to talk him into taking on more Blinders for distillery protection.

Alfie Solomons wasn’t entirely the most trustworthy person that surrounded your family. Him and Tommy had a bit of a tendency to betray each other, no matter how expected it always was. The London gangster probably wasn’t the best person for you to bump into and definitely not the most reliable, but he was who you had ended up with and although it could have been him that drugged you, it didn’t seem incredibly likely. He told Tommy and Grace when greeting people at the front door; “No need for the fucking niceties eh Tommy? I’m here for the free booze mate yeah?” and walked on through with a pat on your brothers back.

Despite the fact you didn’t have much trust in him, you really holed that he wouldn’t pass you off as being overly drunk and leave you alone. You feel dreadfully unwell. Alfie looks down the hall, then back at you and with a sigh, he slips his strong arm around your waist and pulls you into his side for your stability. “I think you’re right, Shelby.” Alfie mutters under his breath, barely loud enough for even you to hear. “Something‘s just not right.” He turns to you, using his arm that wasn’t wrapped around you to lift up your eyelid. Beyond the terror in your eyes in huge pupils. “You’ve been drugged,” he states, his voice still low. “Better find those brothers of yours.”

That brings you some form of relief, but the terror still remains. It’s a scary situation, to know what you want to do with your limbs and know exactly what you want to say, but to be unable to speak or walk or even hold up your head. Your heart hadn’t stopped racing and you were drenched in sweat. It’s a shock you didn’t recognise you had been drugged before hearing Alfie say it.

His arm is tight around the waistline of your expensive ballgown, keeping you steady against him as he walked as quickly as he could manage while supporting your weight. He only vaguely knew the way around Tommy’s huge country house, but he did know where the man’s office was, and he’d likely have a maid in waiting there who Alfie could send to fetch him once he got you there. As you both rounded the corner into the corridor that would take you to Tommy’s office, there a man dressed like a waiter standing seemingly waiting for you. “Mister Shelby sent me to collect his sister when he heard she was overly inebriated.” The man spoke. Alfie furrowed his eyebrows tightly, but nodded and walked you closer to him. You want to protest, but your mind still won’t coordinate with your body and the most you can do is grumble. “She’s a bit hard to deal with,” Alfie admits, “So a tip you should really know for the future?“ He pauses, moving as though he’s going to pass you over to the arms of the other man. Alfie leans in until he’s only a few inches away and whispers a warning “I fucking hate liars,” before sharply drawing back his head only to but it forward forcefully into the man’s face.

He stumbles back and Alfie takes that opportunity to grab the front of his suit jacket and throw him behind the two of you with a kick to his ribs a few times for good measure. He wraps his arm back around your waist and continues on down the hall as if nothing had ever happened. “Could tell by his-fuck!”

A yelp leaves you as your legs tangled when you attempt to bare your own weight and instead clatter to the floor with a thud. Alfie grunts and you fight to open your heavy eyelids to see that a man had dove out at him from a doorway along the long hall and there were now two of them and two of you, except they were both conscious and had full control of their own bodies, whereas it fell upon Alfie to fight for both of you. The Londoner truly does not know why he has put himself in this situation for anyone, never mind for a Shelby he had only met a handful of times. But every time he had met you, you were incredibly sweet and kind to him. He knows that they’ll stop attacking him if he allows them to take you and do as they please with you, but something in him prevents him from doing that. There’s a part of him that encourages him to spit the blood from his mouth and stand in front of where you lay in and out of consciousness on the fell, ready to fight for you like he had something to lose if he couldn’t protect you. Tommy would never know Alfie was there with you if he walked away now, but something in him wants to be there. Wants to fight for you.

And so fight he does, throwing punch after punch, trying to take on two at once. Alfie managed to take the blonde assailant out of the game by cracking the wall with his blonde head of hair, leaving him out cold and potentially dying on the floor. When he does that though, his moment of glory is short lived before the other appears behind him with an arm tightly around his throat. Alfie squirms and grunts, kicks and scratches attempting to get him off, but the attacker holds on despite the blows. Alfie thinks he may well have to accept his fate.

Then he clocks you again on the floor, except this time your hands and trailing up your leg, hiking up your dress and he is utterly confused at your behaviour, thinking that it must be the drugs acting weird in your system. That is, until your dress reaches your upper thigh and the London gangster feels what he thinks may be butterflies when he spots the holster and gun that had been well hidden by your long ballgown. He would laugh, grin even if he wasn’t being strangled nearly to death. He watched with blurry vision as you try to steady your hands enough to point the gun at the attacker that was too bury trying to hold Alfie Solomons down to notice your movements. Alfie squeezes his eyes shut as you move your finger over the trigger and he hopes to God your heads are steady enough to shoot the right person.

The bang goes off and very suddenly he can breathe again. He notes that’s a good sign. He scrambles away quickly, turning around to press his foot onto the bullet wound in the shoulder of his attacker. “I will come back for you.” He growls in warning, pressing his foot harder to elicit a scream before he nods and turns back to where you stand. He wipes the blood off the bottom of his shoe on the carpet before he steps forward to swoop your gun off the floor to slip it back into your thigh holster, and then he helps you back up. Except this time, he opts to sweep you off your feet and into his arms bridal style.

“Good shot.” He notes. You breath a chuckle with hooded eyes in response, but can’t manage anything else. If you hadn’t been severely drugged, Alfie might’ve kissed you.

He makes it to Tommy’s office with ease, ordering the maid to get your brother immediately. Alfie lays you down on the soft couch in the office, placing you carefully on on your side for safety in case you’re sick. He uses the not blood tinted side of his handkerchief to wire some blood splatter and sweat from your face gently, and offers a gentle smile. “We make a good team, Solomons.” You hum with words slurred and jumped, but he understand what you said nonetheless. “That we do, Shelby.” He rumbles back in response.

The moment is as any moment of yours often is, interrupted by your elder brothers storming in. Immediately, Alfie is ripped from your side by Arthur slamming the him roughly against the wall with a loud clatter and bang. John goes to stand by Arthur’s side, and Tommy takes a knee beside you. The patriarch places his cool hand against your forehead before dipping down to place his ear just above your lips. “She’s breathing.” He concludes, “What the fuck did you do to her?” He sneers through gritted teeth as he takes steps towards Alfie.

“And why the fuck and you covered in blood.” Alfie sighs heavily, rolling his eyes and flaring his nostrils at the proximity of the three Shelby brothers. “Funny story, you see Tommy.” He grumbles discontentedly, “Seems as though someone tried after your sister right under your fucking nose, mate. Drugged her drink, removed her from the crowd. I found her wandering the halls all fuckin’ disoriented yeah. Now I don’t like a man who targets a woman, much less has to fuckin’ drug her to achieve it.” Alfie shrugs. Tommy narrows his eyes, but something in him believes what the Camden Town Gangster is saying. Alfie doesn’t have much in the way of necessity for taking you and it wouldn’t make sense for him to have the opportunity to but instead to bring you here. Right to them. “Doesn’t explain the fucking blood.” Arthur hisses, slamming his back against the wall again.

Alfie holds up his hands. “You’re little sister isn’t such a damsel as you make her out to be, Thomas. She has a fantastic shot. Some cunts-“ Alfie’s words drop with pure venom as the reminder of the man nearly strangling him to death reenters his mind, “Came after her. On that note, you’ll need a carpet cleaner and some body bags just along that hall. Don’t let the missus see that mess.”

Tommy paused for a moment, his eyes not leaving Alfie’s even when he speaks. “John, check that corridor.” He orders, making his younger brother grunt in annoyance but do as told nonetheless. “Arthur,” He grumbles, placing a hand on his shoulder, “Take our sister upstairs and get Polly.” Arthur is hesitant. Tommy might believe the words that Alfie speaks, but Arthur despises him and the only thing he hates more than Alfie is the thought of Alfie’s hands on you without any of them being there to help you, protect you. He knows that he and a Tommy are asking themselves the same question. How could something like this happen to you right beneath their noses. How had someone managed to get to when they were so close, literally right in the same room in an event organised by them. Arthur couldn’t answer the question, but could probably have killed Alfie in his rage at that moment. “Arthur,” Tommy repeats more firmly, “Go.”

This time, he listens. But that’s not without a warning glare at Alfie, who simply offers a smirk in response. “And you,” Tommy says finally, turning his attention to Alfie, “Fuck off.”

Alfie chuckles, but begins to walk past Tommy to leave the office when the smaller man grabs his arm in a vice like grip that makes the tips of his fingers tingle with the strength of it. Alfie feigns the urge to fight back in reaction to the pain. Tommy leans in close to his ear with a low snarl, “You don’t just help people. I don’t care what the reason was eh, but don’t you ever go near my sister again.”

Then he lets go and Alfie simply shakes off his arm and walks away. He hasn’t listened to Tommy Shelby any time in the past, and it appears as though today will be no different.

#alfie solomons x shelby!reader #alfie solomons x reader #alfie solomons prompt #tommy shelby x sister!reader #shelby reader #shelby!reader #peaky blinders blurb

[landinoandco]

Could I ask for a Max Verstappen request?

Where you get all excited to tell him you’re pregnant and it doesn’t go well. Could you make it super angsty

Of course you can :) here you go, I hope you enjoy! 

Max Verstappen x reader 

Warnings: angst but with fluff at the end

Word count: 2.2 k 

Requests are open...

Baby, the future is ours

At last the summer break had rolled around again, to the relief of the Formula one drivers and crew, they had 3 long weeks ahead of them to fill with whatever they deemed stress-free or relaxing. The subject of activity depending on person to person - most sane folk tended to stick to a holiday to Greece or if you were an adrenaline junkie like Daniel Ricciardo jumping out of planes or BMX biking. You had lost count of the times Max - your boyfriend - had rushed in to tell you about all of the exciting things his best friend had gotten up to as of late. 

You and Max had decided to take a break and travel to a cosy, quiet part of Italy - to escape the press, the stress and most importantly the eagle eye of social media. It would just be you and him for a few weeks before reality brought you back to Milton Keynes in the shape of Christian Horner and his motley crew. 

You and Max had met in 2018 at a gala event Redbull had hosted, Pierre Gasly - being a close friend of yours - had introduced you two and to say the pair of you hit it off instantly was an understatement, whether it was a mixture of the Dutch meets British humour you had no clue but you weren’t one to complain. A few months later and Max had asked you to travel around the world with him - you did so willingly and life had been nearing perfect ever since. Of course you had your ups and downs, where the universe seemed to really test not only your love for one and other but your patience. A few arguments had shown you that both being hot-headed never ended well. 

You were sat out on the balcony, a book in hand and looking out into the Italien countryside. Max had left for a run and to explore the local village, leaving you, your thoughts and your growing baby. You were pregnant - you had taken the test just before flying out, this meant that Max wasn’t aware. You hadn’t told him yet and you had no clue how you were going to. As it turns out telling your partner you were pregnant was easier said than done - ironically. 

You and Max hadn’t had the baby talk yet - you had but only along the lines of: “one day, when we’re older and married and driving isn’t the main priority anymore.” Those were Max’s words. He wanted to be there for his child, to watch him or her grow, to see every milestone but most importantly to be a good and nurturing father. 

There was part of you that was slightly worried because you just didn’t know how Max would take it - you couldn’t keep it in any longer though. You had to tell him. There was another part of you that was excited - from a very young age you knew you wanted to have a family of your own with the person you loved the most. Call it childish naivety. At this point in time, you were ready to become a mother - well as ready as anyone ever could be. 

Placing your book onto the table, you made your way into the kitchen, grabbed a glass and filled it. Sighing loudly as you leant onto the countertop. 

“That was a loud sigh.” A voice called out from behind you. You recognised it instantly. Whipping your head around, you saw Max standing there, wiping the sweat from his forehead. 

Chuckling, you hit back, “Thank you, Captain Obvious.”

Rolling his eyes, he made his way over to you and wrapped his arms around your middle, placing a sweet, chaste kiss onto the side of your head. Leaning into his warm embrace, you let out another long but content sigh. 

“Seriously, what is it with you and sighing today.” Max uttered, his lips still against the side of your head. 

You went to move forward, out of his welcoming embrace. You knew what you had to do. 

“There’s something I need to tell you.” Instantly the atmosphere changed, you could feel Max stiffen behind you. Maybe the tone you chose to make that comment in was too serious but it was now or never. 

“Haha, which of your friends is pregnant this time.” He quipped jokingly, trying to break the tension. 

Instantly you knew the way the conversation was going to end, a pang of hurt felt in your stomach. You squeezed your eyes shut, catching your lip with your teeth. He stood there with an air of innocence and unknown, concern dancing in his eyes - he went to reach his arm out to you, to offer that encouragement. 

You braved the words that came out of your lips, “Me.” You almost whispered. Time seemed to slow. Max dropped his arm and instantly took a step back. 

“Pardon.” Was the only thing he could force out of his mouth, his throat seemed to close up and his hands went clammy. He definitely heard you the first time but he wanted to make sure it wasn’t a night terror. A bad dream he had failed to wake from. 

“I am, Max,” You said again, your voice wavering. 

“Oh.” He stated, his face drained of colour, his mouth set in a straight line. 

“Is that all you have to say.” You swallowed thickly, your eyes swam with tears. You had a hunch this was how it was going to end but it didn’t stop is from hurting the way it did. You had hoped he would have proved you wrong, to have wrapped his arms around you and to have spun you around. To have laughed. To have cried. To have shown a little more excitement to the fact you were now carrying his child. His first child. 

You moved past him and sat down on one of the wooden chairs, rubbing your hands over your face. He was still stood there. His eyes fixated on the view out of the window. No emotion read in his eyes. It was almost like you had hit the ‘off’ button. He tapped his foot and made a clicking noise with his mouth before turning around to face you - meeting your gaze. 

“How long have you known.” His voice was hoarse.

“A couple of days before we flew out.” You answered him, moving your face back to rest in your hands. 

There was a pause. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner.”

You took a breath, looking him dead in the eye. “Because I knew this was how you were going to react.” You didn’t trust your voice at all, you also didn’t know whether you wanted to scream at him or cry in the corner. 

“Right.” Was all he said. Still stood there like some awkward teenager after a rather large telling off from their mother. 

“Is that all you have to say to me?” You asked him, nostrils flaring. You were allowed to be angry, right? 

“What do you expect me to say.” He rounded on you, his voice raising more than was necessary. Tears had spilled down your cheeks, you didn’t have the energy to fight back. As soon as he realised the effect this was having on you, he went to move forward again, his eyes softening instantly. “I’m sorry - I - I shouldn’t have raised my-”

“Get out, Max.” You stated lowly. By this point, you had stood up, shuddering away from his desperate grasp. He knew he had made a mistake. You knew he regretted it, the moment the words had left his mouth. 

“Get out?” He repeated quietly, his voice cracking, you could see tears glazing his vision. 

“Just - please, go on a walk - come back once you have more to say to me.” You spat.

“But - But I already have more to say-” You cut his rambling off once again. 

“Please. Max.” You insisted, your voice betraying you again. “Go.” You whispered. 

Max stormed out of the door, ensuring to slam it so hard the chandelier on the ceiling swung precariously. You sank back into your chair and let out a loud sob, unable to hold it in any longer. 

Max was mad. Not at you, that would be unfair. He was mad at himself. At the world. At everything actually because at this point why the hell not. You were pregnant - don’t get him wrong, he was over the moon. He was going to be a dad. 

It was too soon. 

He still had his full F1 career ahead of him. A promising and long F1 career as a matter of fact. He wanted a baby to be his main priority and he wanted to share those one in a lifetime moments with you. He knew there was no point in being mad, it wasn’t like they were in a position where they couldn’t have a child. They had plenty of things to offer, a nurturing home with parents who were head over heels in love with each other and a large family - blood and not - who would be willing to support and love the child as if it was their own. Max really was in love with you. He knew it would be you to mother his children in the end, he just didn’t think it would be now. 

He reached for his phone, went into his contacts and pressed on the number that read the name: “D.R new phone.” Whilst it wasn’t adventurous like many thought it would be, it saved the confusion from calling a number that no longer existed. 

Daniel picked up on the second ring. “Hey dude, how’s it going?” 

“Not good at all, Dan, not good at all.” Max admitted, his voice wavering once again. He explained the events that had happened a mere 5 minutes ago, the way he reacted and the way he left you. Hurt and alone.

“I’m not going to lie to you, mate, you’ve fucked up big time.” Dan spoke after what felt like a loud silence. After all, Daniel knew you just as well as he knew Max. 

“I know. I know I have, do you think I’ve been selfish?” He asked, his tone full of raw emotion. 

“Yes.” Dan stated simply, “I think you have been, especially since she even told you this is how she thought you would react. How much stress do you think she had been putting on herself? Come one, I’ve taught you to be better than this.” Daniel paused, Max could almost hear him place his thumb and ring finger onto the bridge of his nose. “You know, just as well as I know, she knows it isn’t the best time. Her becoming pregnant is very much a two person job, I think it’s time that you go back to her and have a conversation like the adult I know you are.” 

In that moment, Max was so grateful to have someone like Dan just a call away. “Thank you, Dan. Really. I don’t know what I would do without you.” 

“Alright Mr Father-to-be, don’t be going all soppy on me now.” Daniel joked, returning back to his normal teasing. That was the best thing about Daniel, he was quite useful when you needed him to be. 

“You can count yourself on being the godfather after that.” Max added, a large beaming smile plastered onto his face. 

He heard Dan let out a loud laugh, “Go on, leave me be. Good luck, mate, let me know how it goes and when the time is right tell her I say congrats.” 

“Of course, mate. Thank you, again.” Max muttered, looking back in the direction of the villa. After he hung up, he stuffed his hands into his pockets and ambled slowly - working out exactly what he was going to say to you. 

Once he had opened the door, he called out to you. “Babe?” He heard a sniffle in response. You were still slumped on the chair in the kitchen, shooting daggers at the cupboard opposite. 

Max sat opposite you, reaching out for your hand. Grudgingly you let him take it, you blinked and he took a deep breath before a large, beaming smile crept onto his face.

“We’re going to be parents.” He rubbed the back of your hand, speaking tentatively. You nodded, your lower lip trembled. Max stood up, still keeping a hold of your hand as he gave it a slight tug, indicating that you should stand up. You made your way into his embrace, his arms wrapping securely around you, tucking your face into the crook of your neck as he rocked gently side to side, burying his face into your hair. He then moved his hands to cradle your face, wiping the stray tears away before peppering your face with feather light kisses. 

“We’re going to be parents.” He repeated, a little louder and to this you let out another sob, laughing as he picked you up and spun you around. 

“I’m sorry. I was being selfish.” He said, as he wrapped you back up into his arms. You smiled into his chest. In that moment, you couldn’t be happier. It was like all of your childhood dreams had come true. In that kitchen stood your new family, mismatched and sometimes a little bit broken but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

#f1 #max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen one shot #max verstappen fanfic #f1blr #f1 2021 #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 one shot #f1 fanfic #formula one one shot #formula 1 x reader #formula one fanfiction #formula one x reader #fanfiction #f1 requests

[eloquent-vowel]

I have had a few bucky x read fic ideas bouncing around in my head and i cant write! So here is one,

Sam find a person who stairs and doesnt talk a whole lot because they uses ✨telepathy ✨. So Sam think they would be a good fit for Bucky, but he doesn’t know they have that power he just thinks they are mute. Then there is a thing where the reader is telling Buck how it works and they if they have something to connect them together like an object *reader motions to dog tags* they can have an unbreakable mind link. Then they fall in love or something. This is dumb, thank you for coming to my TedTalk

Hey! Thank you so much for this request, it wasn't dumb at all. I really enjoyed writing this. I may have gotten a bit carried away, this may sit close to 4000 words but we vibe. I hope this is what you had in mind! Please enjoy! <3

Click here for my masterlist of other fics and check in my bio for requests if anyone wishes to ask!

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Bucky had been enjoying a moments peace, he loved working with Sam but sometimes all he wanted was to put his feet up, put on some vinyl and enjoy a good cup of coffee all while reading a brilliant book. He had been trying to get into Game of Thrones lately, on Sam’s insistence, and he had been enjoying it. With the crackles of Glenn Miller from the turntable he missed the clunky footsteps coming up the stairs.

The sight that greeted Sam needed to be photographed. Bucky was lounging back on his ‘old man armchair’ feet up, hair in a towel, in a bathrobe, coffee in hand and facemask on, this was definitely one for the family album.

At the sound of the phone shutter Bucky practically launched himself out of the chair.

“Oh, you are never gonna live this one down old boy, it’s going to haunt you.” Sam almost cackled evilly as he began to email the photo to himself- he had learnt the hard way that Bucky was very proficient at breaking phones.

“You better not upload that photo anywhere, Wilson, I have a reputation to uphold.”

“Pfft, reputation, that’s funny.”

Bucky scoffed as he stood up, placing his book carefully on the side table, “Big scary super soldier, people hardly run-in fear from a guy in a bathrobe.”

“I disagree, a man in a bathrobe is definitely something you should run from. AH NOPE!” Sam jumped backwards, on top of a nearby chair, as Bucky lunged for the phone, towel turban falling off in the process. “You are not breaking this phone as well.”

“Fine. But you gotta promise not to post that anywhere.” Bucky huffed.

“I won’t.”

“Good.”

“As long as- “

“Oh no, I’m not doing anything for you.”

“Think of it as payment for the last phone you broke and insurance for this picture.”

There was silence for a moment as the two friends eyed each other up. Sam raised his eyebrows, Bucky’s eyes narrowed. It was an intense staring match between a guy in a bathrobe and a precariously balanced man. A clock ticked.

“Fine.” Bucky conceded. “What do you want?”

“For you to come to a meeting.”

“The families of Veterans ones?”

“Yeah.” Sam slowly started climbing down from the chair. “And before you get your old man pants in a twist, I’m not trying to force you to talk or anything, kinda.”

“Kinda?” Suspicion laced through Bucky’s voice.

“You know sign language, right?”

“Which kind?”

“American? I think?”

“Yeah, I know ASL, might be a bit rusty but I’m sure it still holds up. Why do you ask?”

Sam shifted slightly on his feet, “There’s this person, they come in every week and listen. I tried to talk to them, but they communicate through sign language, and I don’t have anyone there to talk with them.” He cast his eyes to the floor, “I feel bad. They were brave enough to come to the group only to basically be ignored ‘because we didn’t plan well enough.”

Bucky smiled, face mask crinkling around his smile lines, “You could have just asked me to Sam. You didn’t have to blackmail me into this, of course I’ll help. When’s the next meeting?”

“This evening. You gonna be ready or do you need some more ‘me’ time.”

Bucky simply chuckled at Sam’s teasing tone, patted his shoulder making sure to squeeze just a bit too hard before retreating to his room.

“I’ll be there, Wilson, and I will look so much younger than you!”

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It was frustrating to you, going along to these meetings and not being able to communicate. You could always speak into someone’s mind but all that usually accomplished was a very paranoid person. But just listening to other’s stories really helped the grief from losing someone so close to you. You related to most of the people there and even though they didn’t understand you a lot of the time, you were always made to feel welcome- with friendly pats on the back and the odd tissue thrown your way.

You bustled into the familiar building with a new sense of excitement as Sam had promised to bring a translator for you this week. It was finally time to say your thanks to some of the people there and finally let the group know about your brother, so that it wasn’t only you that remembered him.

You all but ran through the hallways until you caught sight of a familiar smiling man. Sam was facing you, talking animatedly to another man, the strangers back was to you. He was tall, broad shouldered and dressed in a vintage looking leather jacket and rather well fitted trousers. Now the debate was: does the tailoring make the ass, or does the ass make the tailoring. You were halfway through the arguments on either side when Sam shouting your name disrupted the intense debating in your mind. You blushed at being caught, then blushed some more when you caught sight of the stranger’s face. Twinkling blue eyes under a deep-set brow should have made him intimidating, but he was smiling, and his face was dazzling. There was an immediate fluttering in your stomach.

“Hey, I’m Bucky.” Dear lord even his voice was nice, what made you smile even more was the fact that he signed as he spoke. Well, Sam certainly knew how to pick them well. “Sam introduced me; said you wanted an interpreter.”

You nodded as you signed back, “Nice to meet you, thank you for helping out.”

“No problem, Sam has told me a bit about you.”

“Good things I hope.”

“Okay I recognise my own name, you two better not be conspiring against me.” Sam piped up, to be honest you had forgotten about him for a moment.

Bucky laughed, and it sent a little thrill down you, he really was adorable.

“No worries, Wilson, just letting them know all your dirty little secrets.”

“Right, you two get in there, before you make me sleep with one eye open.”

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You and Bucky caught each other’s eye, his eyes were twinkling with mischief, and you couldn’t help the smile that overtook you. You had a feeling that the two of you would get on just fine.

The meeting passed easily. Bucky translated your signs and you finally felt like you could actually take part in these meetings. Everyone listened intently when you spoke of your brother and when you had thanked the whole group for being so open to you a couple of people shed a tear. By the end of the meeting though you were tired and very accepting of Bucky’s offer to walk you home.

It was a lot of side glances and hidden smiles and you walked side by side. Drawn to each other under the moonlit sky, it was nice to just be in the presence of someone who had such a kind aura. You spent the walk trying to work up the confidence to sign something, anything but nothing came to mind and Bucky seemed quite content to just walk in comfortable silence.

You soon reached your home, you turned to Bucky with a smile on your face and signed,

“Thanks for today, Bucky. You were really helpful.”

“No problem.” He signed back,

You hesitated slightly before signing, “Would you be happy to have a coffee with me, tomorrow?”

Bucky went a little red in the face, and chuckled, “I would love to, I know a nice place, real cosy. I’ll text you the details.”

“You know how to text?”

“Hey! I get enough stick from Sam, don’t need you getting on my case too. I’ll have you know that I am very adaptable.”

“Sure, Sure.” You smiled at his flustered tone. “I’ll wait for your text then, have a good evening.”

“You too.”

The two of you stared slightly awkwardly at each other, neither wanting to be the first to turn around. You shuffled your feet away slowing, smiling awkwardly once more at Bucky before turning. You heard his footsteps start to fade away as you walked towards your home. You were but three steps to the door when a large figure in a hoodie slammed into you, you raised your arms instinctively to block them when you noticed your shoulder was lighter. The bastard had stolen your bag.

You immediately took chase, chasing around the corner you just walked down but they were fast, faster then you at least. As you rounded the corner you caught sight of Bucky walking ahead. The thief wouldn’t stand a change against him. Without a second thought you cast your thoughts towards Bucky,

“Bucky! Thief! My Bag! Behind you!”

You saw Bucky flinch slightly then turn bewildered, his eyes widening when he saw you hurting towards him, chasing the hooded figure. He caught on and launched after the thief as well, with barely any effort he knocked the thief to the ground, grabbed your bag and whipped out his phone to call the cops.

Well, that was hot.

You took your bag back, immediately checking that you brother’s lucky coin was in the zippy pocket, to your relief it was still there. You looked up to see Bucky staring at you with a very puzzled look on his face. You sighed before casting your thoughts to his head once more,

“I’ll explain later.”

Bucky let out a strange, decompressed noise of shock, it made you giggle. The two of you waited in silence until the police came and took the thief away. The police car had barely driven away when he turned to you.

“Did you just, talk in my head? Or did my conscious just suddenly get really loud.”

“I did. Hi. Sorry about that.”

He waved his hands dismissively. “Believe it or not, not the weirdest thing I’ve encountered.”

“Well, that’s reassuring.”

There was an awkward silence.

“So,” You started, resorting back to sign language, it felt less invasive, “Still down for coffee?”

Bucky smiled, “One hundred percent. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah. Bye Bucky. Thanks for getting my bag back.”

“No problem, see ya.”

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The coffee shop that Bucky invited you to, was tucked away, it was the kind of place that you would stumble over on accident. With a simple door and a big window out the front, that lead soft orange light filter out onto the alley. There was the faint sound of jazz leaking out of the building, you smirked. It was such an old fashioned place, of course this was where Bucky frequented.

The bell tinkled slightly as you entered the café, where you were greeted with the smell of fresh coffee and baked goods. You caught sight of Bucky’s broad shoulders sitting in the corner, and you made your way over to him, smiling at the barista as you passed.

As if sensing you, Bucky turned to smile and wave. He was dressed in casual clothes like last time, but this time his hair was loose around his shoulders. You smiled back before settling into the seat opposite him.

His hands moved hesitantly as he signed, “What would you like? I can recommend their hot chocolate, its very warming/”

“Hot chocolate it is.”

You could tell he wanted to ask you a million questions but to his credit he walked slowly to get the drinks, he even took his time carefully carrying the tray of drinks back to your table. He placed a delicious looking hot chocolate in front of you. You watched as he took a sip.

5, 4, 3, 2, 1-

“So,” Here we go, “What is it you can do, you can speak in peoples’ heads, can you,” He lowered his voice and leaned in, “Can you read people’s minds?”

You giggled slightly, his eyes were basically sparkling, he was definitely nerding out about this.

You set the hot chocolate down before casting your thoughts to his head, “I can speak in peoples heads relatively easily, it’s how I talk most of the time to people I know. I guess you could call it Telepathy.”

Bucky’s eyes were as wide as saucers, “So you can’t read thoughts, only… speak them?”

“I like to call it casting, makes me feel like a sorcerer. I can read thoughts, but it takes a lot of energy. I used to be able to talk with my brother from across the house. That usually requires some kind of connection.”

“Oh, so like a blood or family connection? Do you have to know the person very well?”

“That certainly helps but it’s not always necessary. If I have a personal object that belongs to that person, something I can hold and connect to them it isn’t hard to make a two-way connection. Especially if that person is willing to open their mind.”

Bucky seemed to be caught in thought for a second. “So, if I were to give you something of mine, we could both talk in our… heads?”

“Well yes, but Bucky we have only just met. Letting me into your head is a lot. I try not to pry but sometimes I’ve found that thoughts just burst through. Let’s get to know each other a before that happens.”

Bucky smiled at you before speaking and signing, “You’re right. Let’s get to know one another. I find you fascinating.”

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It happened on the fifth date. Bucky was just walking you home after a lovely dinner at a small Italian that he claimed he went to back in the 40s. Just outside your door, under the glow of a lamppost he turned to you and took a deep breath before speaking.

“I know this may be a lot, but I wanted to give you these.” He reached around his neck and pulled off something silver. You gasped slightly as he held out his dog tags, immaculately preserved after all these years.

“Are you sure, Bucky? This is a lot.”

“I know and if you aren’t comfortable with it then just let me know but I want to give them to you.”

“You know what this means Bucky?”

“Yeah, I know, I just figured that you’re already in my head all the time anyways, just can’t seem to get you out of it.”

“You cheeseball.” You smirked at him before taking the dog tags and placing them around your neck. You gripped the cold metal for a moment, concentrating on the man in front of you. Taking everything, you knew about him and stretching out a connection, like a hand reaching out to clasp another.

“Testing, Testing, Testing, one two, one two, can my Telepathic partner hear me?”

You laughed, “Yes I can Bucky, you big dork.”

Bucky whooped out loud before sweeping you up in a big hug. The two of you laughing under the lamp light. His joy was infectious, and you couldn’t fight the smile off your face.

“Oh, we are going to have so much fun messing with Sam.”

“You’re evil.”

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

Of course, the two of you made a pact not to tell Sam until he worked it out, which wouldn’t be anytime soon according to Bucky. It led to some very memorable moments and Sam refusing to play any form of card or board game with either of you because you always managed to win, somehow. Not to mention all the times you had spoken in eery unison around him.

“I swear, its like you two can read each other’s minds sometimes.” Sam threw his hands up in frustration at another lost game of charades.

You smirked at Bucky across the room, “Should you tell him, or shall I?”

“I think he’s been through enough, I got it.”

Bucky cleared his throat, “We can.”

Sam whipped around to face Bucky, a look of sheer disbelief on his face, “Seriously Bucky-boy, if you think I believe that after all-

“Hello Sam.” You cast your thoughts to him, in the creepiest old lady voice you could muster.

Sam yelped, before turning accusingly at you, “You better be joking around with me right now, I am not dealing with any kind of ghosts in this house.”

“Sorry! Surprise I’m telepathic!”

“You’re serious.”

You nodded.

Sam put his head in his hands and sighed, “Not the weirdest thing ever. Wait, does this mean you have been cheating this entire time.”

You both looked guiltily at one another.

“You owe me. That poker night, void.”

You both laughed, “We’ll have a fair rematch this time Sam.”

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

It had been close to a year since you had made it official with Bucky and you were now much more comfortable around one another. He no longer just dropped you off at the lamppost but cam inside with you. You had spent many lovely mornings together sharing glances over steaming cups of coffee. Fighting each other for who got to spread their legs out on the couch, there wasn’t really a loser though as it usually ended up in sofa cuddles for both of you, while watching a film.

Life was pretty great, you thought, as you smiled down at the sleeping Bucky beside you. Finally reaching over to turn off the lamp and put your book down, you were finally reading the hobbit at Bucky’s insistence. As you clicked off the light beside you and settled down you noticed the faster than usual breathing coming from beside you.

“Bucky?”

You reached out, thinking he was awake but instead as you opened up your connection you caught flashes of night terrors. You were falling indefinitely, snow all around you, and in the distance, there were cries of pain, people pleading for their lives, there was gunfire and explosions. You gasped and took off the dog tags. You only gave yourself a moment to breathe before trying to shake Bucky awake. When it became clear that he wasn’t stirring you steadied yourself and settled your hands on his temples. You didn’t care you tired this would make you, you just wanted Bucky to stop suffering. You focused, offering out that hand of connection again, this time picturing it in the shape of a fist and, although it wasn’t subtle, you tried to shake Bucky’s brain awake. You forced your way into his dreams, punching through the dark fog that clouded his thoughts and almost screamed at him.

“Bucky! Bucky wake up! You’re dreaming my dear!”

Bucky woke up with a start. Tears flowing down his face, he stared at you blue eyes shining. No one spoke as he pulled you into his arms. You just breathed together for a moment, counting the breaths and the spaces in between. When he finally pulled back, you saw his eyes flicker with concern before lifting a hand to gently wipe under your nose, it came back red with blood.

“You, okay?”

You smiled sadly, reaching out to put the dog tags back on.

“I should be asking you that.”

“But you’re bleeding.”

“Occupational hazard.” You tried to subtly get rid of any of the extra blood. “That was pretty intense. Wanna talk?”

Bucky looked down to the sheets and shook his head. You smiled at him, tilting his head to yours.

“That’s fine, want me to go? Or would you like to cuddle for a bit?”

Bucky didn’t talk again, just pulled you gently down to the bed once more. Snuggling himself under your chin, resting his head on your chest. You felt his arms draw tightly against your waist. You pressed your lips into his hair.

“May I help you go to sleep? Keep the bad thoughts at bay for at least one night.”

You felt Bucky nod and let out a little sleepy hum of agreement. You closed your eyes, focused on your connection setting up a golden wall against the dark fog at the corners of his mind and settled into a deep sleep.

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

You woke to the smell of fresh coffee and the clinking of cups.

“Morning.” You opened your eyes at Bucky’s voice and took the offered cup greedily. Your mind still felt hazy from the energy you used last night.

You felt the bed dip beside you as Bucky sat and sipped at his cup as well, hair a bit of a mess from bed. He had evidently only just woken up as well.

He took a breath, “I had some pretty interesting dreams, sweetheart.”

You stiffened, “Good ones I hope.”

“Don’t worry, they were good. If a little strange.”

“Strange?”

“I was watching myself most of the time.”

You snorted into the coffee, “Sounds creepy”

There was a slight chuckle, “Nah, I was watching myself build a home, a family- “

“Oh God Bucky.” You snapped your eyes to his, you knew what had happened. “I am so sorry my dreams must have stuck in your head.”

“Those were your dreams?”

“Yeah, its only happened once before but when the connection between two people is very strong, it can happen- I call it bleeding. Perhaps we should- “

“If the next words out of your mouth are take a break, I will spill your coffee.” You clutched your cup closer to your chest, “Truthfully, those were some of the beset dreams I have every had. I really loved them.”

You looked back up at him, hesitantly “You did?”

“And I love you.”

“Huh

There was silence as you stared at him in shock. His face as nothing but adoration as the sunlight filtered over his face.

“I love you, sweetheart.”

“I love you too.”

Coffee cups were cast aside as you both collided. Giggling and joking, radiating happiness as the two of you shared the sweetest kiss. Your feelings merging together, amplifying one another until they shone brighter than the sun.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky x y/n #bucky fic #bucky fanfic #bucky imagine #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky fluff #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes angst #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x you #sebastian stan #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes x gender neutral reader

[kazemitsuyuri]

"it was good on the way"

summary: married and pro heroes, bakugou and fem!reader's lives couldn't get any more interesting

genre: hcs, fluff, the tiniest bit of angst but overall it's fluffy fluff

warnings: tiniest bit of spice (mentions a honeymoon night), swearing, injuries

a/n: i'm having a little too much fun writing these hcs lol hope you'll enjoy 💕

requests are ON, feel free to send me an ask 🤩

you and bakugou graduated UA and became pro heroes together

you both have been dating since senior year and your relationship was going strong

so strong that after both of you had settled with your work, you both agreed to live with each other in an apartment

there was never a boring day for you both

loud screaming and cursing, sarcasm, and laugher filled the appartment

but you'd never want it any other way :)

"y/n we're out of toothpaste again!"

"but it's your turn to get groceries, katsuki"

"fuck no, i can't fucking go anywhere without being recognised."

"that's because of your big ass tits, babes"

"THE FUCK DID YOU SAY?!"

marriage was discussed at some point after a number of years living together but none of you rushed it because you knew your works required a lot of time and consideration

but you'd drop hints and jokes about it now and then

like "just met a fanboy, you better put a ring on me before he does" or "what if one day i get pregnant? it would be less stressful and more anticipated if we were married."

it was all fun in games until bakugou actually went down on one knee and asked you to marry him after a fancy dinner he whipped up for your anniversary

you remembered that night vividly even through your wet lashes and your quivering lips as you repeated the "yes" so many times

your wedding was a secret one with only your friends and family knowing and attending

it was a day you would never forget: the energetic party, your friends hyping you up every second, the dress that didn't let you breathe, bakusquad's karaoke session on stage... AND, last but not least, BAKUGOU CRYING SEEING YOU WALK DOWN THE ISLE

sir swore he would not cry even a little back in the hotel because, and i quote, "crying is for fucking weaklings, you're just walking towards me, what's there to cry about?"

well guess who was the weakling crying while cursing to izuku, his best man, "i'm not fucking crying, fucking deku."

and my goodness don't even get me started on the honeymoon

let's just say man didn't let you rest for one damn minute 🥴✋ best night of your life

you both agreed to keep your relationship a secret to the public

you bought yourselves a decent home, and by that i mean an expensive ass villa

to him, you deserve only the best things

what can you say, you married bakugou 😎💅

being pro heroes, you both ran into each other a lot, especially when your agencies were literally a street away

both of you are competitive af

"guess who stopped a bomb from blowing up a bank today?"

"think you're slick? well guess who save 20 hostages from a serial killer in a 10-story building today, kacchan~"

bakugou hates it but he loves it whenever you surpassed him and bragged about your accomplishments

he thinks its fucking sexy

you both got each other's backs whenever needed

he gets a little overprotective and worried from time to time, but he trusts and believes in you and your abilities

although, there was one time you were terribly injured after a battle and had to be immediately brought to the hospital

but you didn't tell bakugou because he too was on mission

you didn't want him to worry and abandon his mission, running back to you

and knowing him and how much he loved you, he'd definitely do that

he later found out when he got home earlier than expected

with no sight of you grinning and tackling him with hugs, he called kirishima only to learn that you've been hospitalized

bakugou wasn't even thinking when he used his quirk to blast himself towards your hospital

the doctors, nurses, and staff working there were terrified of him - their number two hero covered in dirt and blood, racing through the corridors of the hospital to look for you, ready to knock out anyone who stood in his way

bakugou's crimson eyes softened by the sight of you sitting on the bed, peacefully reading in your hospital gown

"katsuki???"

before you could react any further, he embraced you tightly, still careful not to hurt your wound

"fucking hell, shitty woman. why didn't you tell me?"

you teared up a little at his words and you hugged him back, he was shaking in your arms

"i didn't want you to interfere with your work. plus, it wasn't that bad..."

"broken leg, bruised eyes and lips, stabbed ribcage, bullet through your left shoulder... do i have to go on?" he read the doctor's diagnosis on the table next to you, eyes furrowed and lips frowning at you

"i knew i should've hid it."

he looked at you intensely, and you knew that look a little too well

"katsuki, i promise i was careful! it was a stubborn villain but i-"

bakugou hugged you once again, his sigh was quiet but enough for you to hear

you patted his back gently

"we're heroes, katsuki. we live to win and save people. don't be so worried for me, i have tough shell!"

"i know, and i'm proud of you, shitty woman. just don't die or i'll kill you myself"

you giggled lightly at that at that

"i'm proud of you too, katsuki"

after you got discharged from the hospital, he didn't let you move a single muscle

"no missions, no cooking, no chores, no doing unnecessary shit for a month!"

you felt like you were being grounded like your childhood

but you still did them anyway lol

of course, you didn't do any hero work, but you still did the chores and errands

bakugou would come home to a clean house and delicious meal and still get pissed

"I TOLD YOU TO REST, SHITTY WOMAN!"

"how about... no" :D

yup, your lives are definitely far from boring

#bakugou katsuki #bnha bakugo katsuki #bnha bakugou #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou imagine #bakugou fluff #bakugou hcs #bakugou headcanons #katsuki bakugo imagine #katsuki fluff #mha imagines #mha au #mha x reader #mha bakugou #bnha x reader #bnha x y/n #bnha fluff #bnha au #bakugou katuski x reader #bakugou fanfiction #Spotify

[titularkilljoy]

sometimes and always

//a love story in five acts

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Summary: It's hard to resist falling into bed with a cute neighbour, but it turns out it's even harder to resist falling for him. (alternatively- Spencer Reid and the reader struggle to resolve their feelings but make valiant attempts to do so while lying horizontally in each other's beds.)

Word Count: 7k

Warnings: Explicit sexual content, strong language, decidedly non-American spelling conventions

Author's Note: SO. This fic was originally part of a fic swap for the wickedly talented @imagining-in-the-margins, but it is now over six months too late. Thankfully, patience apparently springs eternal in her?? besides all the other amazing things?? Unfair, but good for me. So, Pom, this one is for you. Thanks for being the absolute best and putting up with my rants and not judging me for mocking everything and everyone all the time. Love, Perpetually Tardy.

(i)

This is how it happened the first time.

I was frowning at the pitiful stack of mail in my hands, wondering if the conspicuously missing letters and subscriptions would ever be returned to me. Ever since moving to my new apartment, I had been at the mercy of the Postal System and that was never a good situation to be in. I’d resigned myself to having to take an extra trip back to my old building and do some investigating, when the elevator dinged and I stepped in. Just as the doors slid closed, there was the frantic rumble of footsteps and a hand slipping into the narrowing gap.

The doors sprang apart to let in the harried owner of the appendage, who barely spared me a glance before turning to face the front, eyes briefly darting to the buttons. It took me a second to recognise him. It was the guy from the apartment opposite to mine, although so far that seemed to be only a nominal living arrangement; in my two weeks there, I’d seen him exactly once, merely in passing, and we had exchanged a sum total of zero words.

I followed his lead and stopped blatantly staring at him, though I continued studying him covertly through my peripheral vision. He looked—well, his jawline looked like it could cut glass effortlessly and he had the soft chestnut hair of a male model and I knew I was probably going to develop a very embarrassing crush on him at some point— but besides that, he looked browbeaten, his whole posture seeming to buckle under the invisible weight of the world.

There was an awkward moment when he realised we were both heading in the same direction, and I took it upon myself to break the ice.

“Hi,” I greeted, introducing myself, “I just moved in. I don’t think I’ve seen you around.” I gave him my warmest smile.

His swift assessing glance would have escaped my notice if I hadn’t been paying such close attention; his expression was still shuttered off, but he offered an endearing little quirk of his lips and an introduction. “Spencer Reid. I’ve-uh, I’ve been away on a work thing.”

“Oh? What do you do?” I asked, beginning a leisurely walk down the hallway and fishing my keys out of my bag. I immediately regretted the query when, impossibly, his eyes became even more guarded.

“I’m an FBI agent.”

Well, that clipped admission would have given anyone pause. “Oh, wow. That’s really impressive, dude.”

“Thanks.” He hesitated before adding, “I’m part of the Behavioural Analysis Unit.”

“So, you’re like a psychologist?”

“I catch serial killers.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

The silence wasn’t uncomfortable so much as it was brimming with my insecurities. The alcohol in my blood helped with that, though; the next words were out of my mouth before I even registered the thought.

“Do you want to come in?”

“Oh, uh—”

He was going to say no.

“It’s just that you look like you could use some company. And I think it’s absolutely criminal that we haven’t gotten to know each other yet.”

“It’s really late.”

But he was rocking forwards on his toes just the tiniest bit, leading me to believe that some part of him did want to take me up on my offer that night.

“So it is. Come on, Agent Reid. Be a good neighbour.”

“It’s Doctor, actually,” he corrected. “Doctor Reid. I have Ph.Ds. Three of them.”

My eyebrows had risen to my hairline and, sensing the change in the air, he hurried to put me at ease. “But you can just call me Spencer.”

“Huh. You don’t hear that every day.” I chuckled sheepishly. “Well, come on in, Doctor.”

There was a moment when his whole body leaned towards me and his face looked conflicted but slightly enthusiastic, and I was convinced I could turn the night into a very pleasant one for both of us. Then, with a loud clatter, my keys slipped from my hands, startling us. The moment was broken, and I sighed in resignation.

“Let me guess, you’ve decided I’m too drunk and we’re going to go our separate ways.”

At least he had the good grace to look apologetic. “I just don’t think it’s a good idea right now,” he told me slowly as he bent down to pick up my keys and pressed them securely into my outstretched hand, “It’s late and I’ve had a long day. I’ll...see you around?”

“Sure,” I managed to say with a regretful smile, “I’m holding you to that.”

*~*

That, however, turned out to be easier said than done, for a variety of reasons, not the least of which was the Herculean feat of unpacking and organising my new place with a mild hangover and a tinge of frustration over lost opportunities looming over me. Once that was dealt with, the bigger challenge turned out to be actually locating the man in question. I knocked on his door a few times, but when the responding silence continued to persist for over a week, I began to think he’d just been a drunken hallucination in the first place. And the longer I went without any follow-up interactions, the more intensely I started overthinking the slightly fuzzy memory of our brief conversation.

Of course I’d managed to make a fool of myself in front of a really cute guy. That was absolutely in character for me. Every time I passed by his door, I convinced myself a little more that I owed him a sincere apology for my poor, inconsiderate conduct.

Beyond the embarrassment, however, work didn’t leave me much time to think about it, and by the time I was trudging to my apartment the next Saturday, the whole encounter had been relegated firmly to the back burner. Naturally, that was when the faint glow of light under his door distracted me from the very passive-aggressive email I was composing. I hesitated.

The deep breaths I sucked in didn’t serve much more purpose than to make me somewhat lightheaded, but I forged on anyway. I knocked on the door, and waited.

There was silence, followed by the sound of reluctantly shuffling feet, and then, finally, I was face to face with Spencer Reid once again.

“Um,” I started, “hi.”

He stared at me wordlessly for a beat, during which I started to wonder if he’d actually forgotten me already.

“So, we met the other day, and I just want to apologise. I didn’t mean to come on to you so strongly, and I get that you weren’t int-”

“Do you want to come inside?”

“..What?”

“Do you want to come inside?” he repeated, enunciating clearly. That didn’t clear up my confusion, though.

“Um. Yes? Sure. I mean, no, shouldn’t we talk about this a bit?”

He let out a tired laugh. “I don’t want to talk right now.”

“Alright,” I said, biting my lip. I followed him inside, and pushed the door closed behind me; it emitted an innocuous little click as it fell shut.

There was something about the weariness behind his eyes and the careful set of his jaw that made me want to study him and understand what was going through his head, but all I could glean that night was that Spencer didn’t seem amenable to much time spent on documentation.

“So,” I began unsurely, shedding my jacket and scanning the contents of the room, the piles upon piles of books and the distinct lack of much else, “tell me about yourself.”

“Didn’t I already do that?”

“Hmm, that’s not the whole story,” I mumbled, running my fingers over a broken-spined, wrinkled copy of Paradise Lost laid open on a heavy wooden desk. A single smudge of blue ink stood out against the yellowing page, and beside it, the print read: This horror will grow mild, this darkness light. “You’re not just an FBI agent.”

“That’s all that’s important,” he asserted, taking a step towards me. He had one eye on my curiously wandering fingers and, sensing that it was making him more antsy than he needed to be, I tucked my hands into my back pockets, facing him with a grin of false bravado. I really wished I was drunk. That would have made things infinitely easier.

“Besides,” he continued, this time meeting my eyes directly, “I don’t know anything about you either.”

“Fair enough,” I conceded, stepping closer to him.

His eyes didn’t leave mine, until my own strayed to the bobbing curve of his throat and the tantalising motion of his tongue sweeping over his bottom lip. Not for the first time that week, I wondered how terrible of an idea it would be to try to kiss my attractive neighbour. I could see my own apprehensions mirrored in his stance, and I saw the exact moment when he identified the focus of my gaze.

I didn’t have to spend much time contemplating. He decided, just as I did, that any consequences of this impulsive decision could be dealt with later.. I lunged for him just as he closed the distance in one long stride, grasping my jaw in both his hands. Then we were firmly attached at the lips, and his arms wrapped around my waist and dragged me closer, seemingly intent on devouring my mouth. Gradually, our actions slowed a bit, the kiss turning softer and more exploratory, our tongues winding around each other gently, my lungs readily accepting his deep, nasal sigh.

His arms around my waist were a steadily spreading band of warmth, and I could feel the growing evidence of his arousal against my thigh. I found myself thinking I could be very happy with just kissing him like this, feeling his breaths tickle my face, letting my hands suffer minute pinpricks from the stubble littering his jaw. But then his grip shifted to my hips and tightened ever so slightly, and it was like I’d been doused with fuel and set alight. My fingers struggled to unbutton his shirt as he pressed distracting kisses along my neck, my soft whimpers breaking the relative silence of the room.

All of a sudden, the ground shifted and my stomach swooped, and it took a second or two before I realised I was now in his arms, being carried towards, presumably, his bedroom. Content, I got to work on undoing the last button and trying to slip the shirt down his arms entirely. He granted me a chuckle for my troubles before laying me down gently on our destination and taking it off himself.

He didn’t waste any time in sinking his knees into the soft mattress on either side of my legs, helping me out of my own clothes and methodically kissing every bit of newly exposed skin, until finally, I was clad only in flimsy cotton and he was nosing at my aching core. With two fingers, he deftly removed the last of my defences and pressed his mouth against me. I moaned, my hands flying to his hair and trying to keep from pulling too hard as he used his tongue to examine every inch of my arousal, evidently experimenting based on the sounds he managed to elicit from me.

“Oh, my God,” I babbled, hips bucking wildly under the iron grip holding them down.

“Tell me,” he demanded, pulling away slightly, “tell me how much you like it.”

“Spencer,” I breathed desperately, “Please. I need- I need more.”

He hummed leisurely against me, frustrating me to no end. My grip in his hair tightened at last, guiding him where I needed him most, and I swear I felt his lips stretch into a smile.

It went on for what felt like hours, but there was no earthly way I could have lasted that long. He took mercy on me eventually, plunging two long fingers deep inside me, closing his lips around the bundle of nerves that, predictably, sent me into a violent, shaking climax. He nursed me patiently through the aftershocks, waiting till my legs had stilled before rising to undo his belt and rid himself of his pants. I was already mourning the loss of his closeness, and I pulled him back on top of me the moment he was within reach.

“Come on, Doctor,” I taunted, “It’s time you made good on your promise and got to the main event.”

“I never promised anything,” he retorted, but the playful glint in his eyes excited me, and while he reached over beside us to the nightstand, I rose to the occasion.

“Oh? Well, if you don’t want to, I guess I’ll just head out, then,” I teased, going so far as to attempt to sit up from underneath him. I felt a low, threatening sound begin in his chest and make its way up his throat as his hands gripped my wrists and brought them down to my sides, pinning me in place.

It was my turn to chuckle at his eagerness, lifting my head to briefly peck him on his lips.

“Don’t worry, Spencer,” I cooed, “I’m not going anywhere. Now fuck me already.”

“With pleasure,” came the response, and while I wondered idly how a smirk could simultaneously be sinister and bashful, there was the sharp sound of crinkling foil, and then he cut off my thoughts by entering me in one fluid motion.

“Fuck!” I cried out, holding him around the shoulders, bringing him impossibly closer.

“That’s it,” he groaned in my ear, “let me hear you.”

He set a torturous rhythm, thrusting into me harshly before pulling out slowly, carefully, making me relish the sensation, anticipation building steadily in the pit of my stomach and spreading until it engulfed me. A ceaseless litany of moans and whimpers filled the air around us, the source of each barely discernible. At last, I could feel myself riding the very precipice, and his name began to fall from my lips like a prayer.

“Spencer,” I called, “Spenc-”

He swallowed the rest of my inconsequential cries, bringing his thumb to where we were joined to guide me over the edge, and as I convulsed around him soundlessly, he reached his own climax, blunt fingernails leaving crescent marks on my hips, his heavy panting breaths stuttering, once, against my clavicle, before calming and slowly evening out.

We stayed that way for a few minutes, my hand combing lightly through his hair, his closed-mouth kisses pressing against my neck like a balm. Eventually, though, we had to move, and it was he who did first. He pulled out and walked away from the bed without looking at me, tossing the tied-up condom in the trash. I sat up, cross-legged, watching him for a bit, pursing my lips when I noticed he was actively avoiding my gaze.

I cleared my throat. “Where’s your bathroom?”

He pointed in a general direction and mumbled something incoherent; sighing in disappointment, I stood up gingerly and went to clean myself up. When I returned, the room still smelled like sex, and Spencer was still evasive, but he was sitting on the edge of the bed now. He looked up when I entered, watching me pick up my clothes.

“Are you alright?” he asked quietly.

I glanced over at him. “Yeah, I’m good. You?”

Nodding, he watched me get dressed, then followed me into the living room and watched me drape my jacket over my arm. Then he watched me walk to the door, all the while not saying a word.

The cool steel of the doorknob in my hand, I looked over my shoulder one more time.

“Well, Spencer. You know where to find me, I guess,” I muttered, shaking my head slightly. Then I left his apartment, and despite the enormity of what had transpired during my visit, the click of the door closing sounded exactly the same.

.

(ii)

Of course, after that, I resolved it would never happen again. The man next door clearly had some issues with what we had done, and I couldn’t be bothered to solve them. It was, frankly, idiotic to jeopardise the prospect of good neighbours in favour of sex, however great it might have been.

It was embarrassing how quickly my resolution packed its bags and jumped out of my third-storey window.

I was awoken the next morning by three firm raps on my door. I think I knew, somehow, who was trying to get my attention, so I took my time, but the reveal of Spencer’s regretful face didn’t surprise me any less. I was wary as I stared at him wordlessly, cycling through all the possible reasons for his visit, and his eyes dropped to the way my arms tightly hugged my midsection. He winced then, meeting my eyes.

“I’m sorry for the way I acted,” he blurted, and it sounded so rehearsed that I had to stifle a guffaw. There was a flicker of something in his eyes that could have been frustration, but he powered through. “I’ve had a pretty terrible week at work and I think I was trying to get something out of my head. But I was awful to you, and it was completely my fault. I’m sorry if I offended you. I had...a great time.”

I’d been watching him carefully throughout his speech, and if he was faking the earnestness in those last couple of lines, he was an extraordinary actor. I concluded, as I studied the apologetic slump of his shoulders and the dark bags into which his eyes had sunken, that I didn’t need to worry about the veracity of his words.

“It’s okay,” I said hesitantly. “I mean, no, it’s not okay, it felt really awful, but thanks for explaining. I get it now.”

“Oh,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck and looking off to the side, “that’s great. Thank you.” He shoved his hands deep into his pockets.

“Problem?” I was bemused.

“No!” He was looking back at me, now. “I- well, to be honest, I wasn’t expecting it to be this easy. I thought I’d have to convince you.”

“Huh. Well, you can still convince me, Doctor. Give me a second to get ready. You’re buying me breakfast.”

I quite liked the shy smile that graced his face in response.

*~*

It kept happening. There was no way I could have stopped it, and there was no reason I would have wanted to.

We quickly grew into a familiar rhythm. Each time, it started with one of us having a particularly stressful day. Each time, it started with a knock on the door and some perfunctory shuffling around. Before wasn’t the time for talking. Each time, we’d stumble into whichever surface was closest, and every time it wasn’t the bed, Spencer would make some halfhearted protests about germs and hygiene, before I shut him up very effectively with a manicured hand on his dick. Each time, in the During, I marvelled at how well we fit together, how quickly we’d learned each other’s bodies, and each time, I saw more of him than I had the last.

And I loved every bit of it.

Spencer no longer retreated into his shell in the After. He’d try sometimes, but I knew how to coax him out, now. I’d slip my hand into his, ever so gently, and wait. Or I’d sling one arm around his waist until he returned the embrace. I was getting scarily good at reading him. It was like working on an intricate puzzle, and every new achievement was rewarded with a deeper, longer look into his mind.

I carefully stored away every casual anecdote about someone from work or his godson or his mother, and I loved to watch the life burn bright in his eyes. Of course, they were all happy stories. I could sense the bittersweet aftertaste they left in his mouth, but he never let me inspect it too closely. In turn, I regaled him with tales of my own, of my sister and my parents, of my cat that was perpetually falling asleep on top of me. I told him all the easy, palatable things, holding back just as much as he did, always careful to maintain the wall of superficiality.

But things did slip through the cracks every once in a while, from both of us-- they were bound to, what with the sheer amount of time we spent together in various states of undress. Things that made me burn with curiosity that couldn’t be sated without jeopardising the very foundation of our arrangement. So I turned a blind eye to the jagged scars on his thigh and neck when he failed to maneuver to hide them; in return, he kept mum when I walked into his apartment, on the day of my worst professional disaster, with runny makeup and bloodshot eyes, shivering all over.

If he noticed that I kissed the skin over his scars a little more tenderly, lavishing attention on him the first time I saw them, he didn’t show it. If he liked the way I always nuzzled my face into the one on his neck when we were done, he didn’t show it.

For my part, I tried very hard not to read into the slow, shallow thrusts or the almost reverent way he handled me when my tears still hadn’t dried. I definitely did not read into the arm over my shoulder or the slightly baffled crease in his brow while we sat on his couch with a random episode of The Office.

And if, maybe, the frequency of his visits increased as the months went by, who could blame him? He was an FBI agent. He probably had a lot of bad days.

Sometimes, though, I’d go over when I’d had a good day and I felt like celebrating. Sometimes, I’d knock on his door just because I was bored and I wanted to see him. It wasn’t as if he would know the difference. Our bodies knew how to be around each other, and that was all that mattered.

This was just stress relief, after all.

(“Have you ever been in love?” I asked him once, abruptly, my heart still pounding as the sweat cooled on our skins.

He glanced at me warily, but he must have detected only honest curiosity on my face, not lovesickness or anything else that would have had him running for the hills.

He chewed on his lip for a moment. “Once.”

“What happened?” My finger traced an aimless pattern on his chest.

“She loves me,” he said, “but she isn’t in love with me.”)

We never articulated any feelings we may or may not have about each other or our situation. We dodged sincere conversation like it would kill us. So all the pieces we owned of each other were ones that we had been remiss in guarding diligently. That only made them all the more precious.

But on the heels of every stolen glance, there was a moment where he looked right through me, where I felt blank and insubstantial, like I was a placeholder for something or someone, and that would be enough for the wall to be between us again, rigid and unrelenting.

It was a shame that I was stupid enough to hold on to the scraps that fell through anyway.

.

(iii)

I was an immensely stupid person.

That was the only explanation for why I was leaning against the outer wall of our apartment building at three in the morning, desperately shoving my hands into my coat pockets to brace against the cold.

“You don’t have to be here.”

Can he read minds now? I wondered sullenly. Spencer was sitting on the front steps, with his head in his hands. His hair was dishevelled, and his eyes were the picture of torment. I would have loved to console him, but every attempt so far had been firmly rebuffed.

He had knocked on my door an hour ago and silenced my greeting with a bruising kiss. Of course, I knew how to do that dance, but Spencer had been off his rhythm tonight. When I’d reached for his shirt, he’d pushed my arms away. When I had kissed his jaw, he'd flinched. When I’d finally retreated in concern to ask him what was wrong, he had huffed out that he was perfectly fine, before trying to lift my shirt over my head.

I’d pushed him onto the bed and tried to distract him, and he had responded by clenching the sheets in his fists instead of grabbing my hips. I’d whispered his name in his ear the way he usually loved, and he’d climbed out from under me, sitting up on the bed with his chest heaving. At that point, I’d given up. What had followed was an exercise in patience.

(“Spencer, what’s wrong?” I’d asked again, to no avail.

“It’s nothing. I don’t want to talk about it,” he’d gritted out, glaring at me.

I’d sighed. “Okay, which is it? Nothing, or that you don’t want to talk about it?”

Silence.

“Well something is clearly bothering you. Am I just supposed to ignore that?”

“We don’t need to talk about anything.” He’d tried to kiss me again. That time, I was the one who pushed him away.

“No, Spencer, this isn’t working. I don’t think we should do this tonight.”

The glare had intensified. “Fine.” He’d gotten up and tried to put his shirt back on, but his hands were shaking.

Cursing my investment in this man, I’d helped him while he stared daggers at me. When he’d hunted down his shoes and made his way out of my apartment, I’d pulled on my coat and followed, petting my cat briefly when he tried to follow us.)

So now we were outside, experiencing the most awkward silence ever known to man. Every time I attempted to put a hand on his shoulder or sit beside him, he would tense up yet again.

“Yes, Spencer,” I replied at length, “I do. You look like you might accidentally walk into traffic. I’m not leaving.”

“It’s not your problem.” The petulance was beginning to get on my nerves. I hadn’t signed up for sleepless weeknights.

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” I told him, shrugging.

I pulled out my phone to distract myself with the cute animals in my game. Spencer was still worryingly silent. But if he didn’t want to talk to me and he wouldn’t let me near him, there was little I could do but stand there.

Every now and then, his breathing would hitch, and I would study him out of the corner of my eye. Whether he fully registered my presence or not, I was unsure, but he seemed to be calming down. He looked less on edge, his eyes less wild, and I was about to approach him and try again, when a black car pulled up just ahead of us.

Both our heads jerked to attention, but the petite blonde who exited the car only had eyes for Spencer.

“Spence!” She rushed to him, pulling him into a hug that he slowly reciprocated. “Your phone is off. After what happened, I was so worried,” she murmured into his hair, her eyes shut in relief.

And Spencer-- Spencer’s face was something to behold. His eyes were tightly closed, his lips turned down unhappily, and his face was so naked and open that I almost looked away. Almost. The pain that shone there riveted me. I felt as if I could see every wound he had ever suffered, in that instant. He’d never shown me that before. And he still hadn’t-- this wasn’t for me. The embrace broke, but his face stayed the same while the woman fussed over him.

Something came back to me, a fragment of a memory. She loves me but she isn’t in love with me. Unbidden, a sound of realisation escaped my throat, drawing two pairs of eyes to the dark corner in which I had been so far obscured.

Spencer schooled his face back to some semblance of normalcy, and ran a hand through his hair.

“Uh, JJ, this is--”

“Leaving,” I blurted out, then cleared my throat. “I was just leaving. Work in the morning. Nice to meet you.” I tried to smile at her, but it felt more like a pained grimace.

I brushed past both of them, but hesitated on the top step. “Spencer…”

His gaze was inscrutable, and I was too tired to try to decipher it.

“Feel better,” I mumbled, and then I left them there.

*~*

I was not sulking.

I told myself this as I lounged on the couch in my most comfortable pyjamas, stuffing my face with junk food and watching Michael Scott lament his foot injury.

So what if Spencer was in love with a beautiful blonde while getting him to talk to me was like pulling teeth? It wasn’t like I’d been carrying a torch for him. We were just extremely compatible sexually. And in very close proximity to each other. That put us in the ideal position to hook up whenever we needed it. That was the extent of our relationship. For all I knew, he’d been sleeping with other people this whole time. I hardly had the right to protest it if he had. We hadn’t set up rules. We just fell into bed together as and when we liked.

It was a good, uncomplicated thing.

So I needed to make sense of whatever needless jealousy I was feeling, before I ruined it. I couldn’t sit around being pathetic. I had a life.

There was a knock on the door.

Sighing, I turned off the TV and put the snacks away. Spencer was quiet as I let him in. His eyes roamed the small living room as if he didn’t know his way around my place as well as he did his own. I perched on the arm of the couch and stared at him, hoping my face didn’t betray the rollercoaster of emotions I’d experienced over the last forty-eight hours.

“So,” I started, “you okay?”

He looked a bit startled, as if he hadn’t expected me to address it at all. I tried not to roll my eyes.

“Yeah. I’m alright.”

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” I prompted, “It was pretty intense.”

“It-uh, it was a work thing. JJ helped me out.”

Of course she did. “Great,” I said aloud.

We looked at each other for a beat. “She’s the one, isn’t she?” I blurted before I could stop myself.

“What?”

“The one you’re in love with?”

There was a telltale spot of red high on his cheeks, even as he sputtered. “That’s not-- I mean, yes, but that was--”

“It’s fine,” I said cheerily. “I was just curious.”

He frowned at me. “She’s my best friend, it’s not--”

“No, I get it.” My stomach was somewhere near my feet. “So, do you wanna fuck?”

Again, he seemed taken aback. “What?��

“Isn’t that why you’re here?” I directed my gaze at his meticulously polished shoes.

“No.” A pause. “I just wanted to say-- would you look at me for a second?”

I forced myself to comply.

“I, uh, I wanted to thank you. For staying with me the other night.” The sincerity in his eyes was a bit too much to bear at the moment.

I hadn’t done anything, and I told him as much.

“You didn’t have to. Just being there was more than enough.”

“Right,” I said hollowly. “So is that it?”

“Yeah.” He seemed very lost. “Um, are you okay?”

“Sure. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You’re acting kind of strange.”

“That’s because there isn’t usually this much talking,” I snapped.

I longed to smooth out the lines on his face and make him feel at ease again. This was supposed to be the good, uncomplicated thing. He was apparently making an effort. I could return the favour.

“I’m sorry,” I said, letting out a deep breath and rubbing a hand over my face. “Can I get you something to drink? We can talk about it if you want. Or just hang out.” I tried to squash down the hope that bloomed in my chest.

“Oh. Sure, if that’s okay.” He was chewing on his lip again, and it was unfairly appealing.

And so he stayed. I got two mugs of coffee, and when I came back, he was on my couch reading a well-worn paperback, as if he belonged there. I had to agree with the thought. When he heard me enter the room, he looked up with a smile.

When he left three hours later, I couldn’t remember what we’d talked about or the name of the book he’d abandoned within minutes, but I remembered the way he’d leaned close to me while gesturing wildly with his hands, and I remembered that we hadn’t touched beyond accidental brushes of our fingers the entire time.

He still hadn’t revealed the source of his despair, and I knew there was someone he loved. I knew whatever this was, it would be temporary.

But the smile on my face as I closed the door was real.

.

(v)

Spencer kept coming over. I was never given the chance to initiate contact because it seemed like he was always at my place. Whenever he was in the city, he would be with me. I started to worry about his apartment gathering cobwebs from the disuse. But I couldn’t honestly complain about this new development.

Sometimes we had sex, and sometimes we didn’t. Sometimes he came in sore and tired, other times he was brimming with excitement with a playful grin. Sometimes he was angry at the world and I was allowed to coax him down from his rage. Those nights were in turn infuriating and thrilling.

(“What happened?”

“Work.”

“That’s really helpful, Spencer, care to elucidate?”

“No.”

“Okay, caveman.”

“Shut up and take off your clothes.”

I’d rolled my eyes and complied.)

I enjoyed every bit of him. I wanted to observe and chart every one of his moods and his little quirks. I loved the small pile of his books that had found their way onto the coffee table. I loved introducing him to pop culture that he approached with the same diligence as he would a textbook of quantum physics. He was an eager student, and I attempted to return the favour whenever he launched into his obscure tirades.

Some nights I would drowsily let him in and he would crawl into bed with me, fully clothed. The following mornings, I would wake up with a silly grin on my face, seeing him utterly relaxed and at peace. We’d have breakfast in my kitchen and slowly come awake together over our steaming mugs of coffee.

It was fun, learning him.

In the dead of night, as I was drifting off to sleep, he would tell me bits and pieces of horrible things he’d had to see. All I could offer him then was a tight, protective embrace and a steady gaze as the words clawed their way out of his reluctant throat. It felt like he was giving me some sort of twisted boon, these revelations of his pain. I collected them just as carefully as I did everything else. If it was a part of him that was freely given, I knew I wanted it.

At intervals, I would have to remind myself that he wasn’t truly emotionally available. It wasn’t hard. I only had to picture JJ’s relieved smile and the raw uncloaked expression on his face that I had never seen again. He mentioned her every now and then, and I’d discovered that his godson was her child. He never seemed upset, talking about her family, but he wasn’t the kind of man who would resent another’s happiness, even if it was at the expense of his own. I knew that now. I still remembered the way he would pull away from me and flinch at my touch, and I knew I was playing a losing game. There was no way out of this where I didn’t get hurt. All I could do was try to control it.

Three months after that night outside our building, I knew I’d fallen for him.

I was in trouble and I needed to do something about it, quickly. So I stopped preemptively cancelling plans with my friends and coworkers. I joined a book club. I called in a guy to loudly fix my bathroom sink the day I knew Spencer would be getting home. I even got a gym membership. I tried to be away from home as much as I could.

Whenever Spencer texted me, I would let him know I was unavailable. His texts got progressively more frustrated. Watching the excitement on his face dim when I turned him away at my door was painful. But it was necessary. I convinced myself that when Spencer and I stopped existing in this vacuum without other people, my feelings would weaken and I would be able to get him out of my head.

It didn’t work, of course, and I spent every day missing him. I tried to distract myself with work and my suddenly-full schedule, but the feelings were still there. Try as I might, I couldn’t stop thinking of him every morning and every night, and every time I passed his door and every time I walked by a bookstore.

So when Neil from work asked me out a week later, I said yes.

I wore a nice dress and heels, and he picked me up. We went to a midscale restaurant and talked about boring first-date things, and I knew within the first fifteen minutes that I didn’t want to see him again. I went through the motions, smiled pleasantly at him, and told him I would take a cab home. When I walked dejectedly up to my apartment, it took me a second to realise what I was looking at. My heart leapt and I dropped my keys.

Spencer was sitting on the floor outside my door, and he looked tireder and older than I’d ever seen him. He had looked up at my approach. I froze.

“Spencer.” I hadn’t seen him in a month.

He looked me up and down, and there was an unhappy tilt to his mouth. I wanted to kiss it away. He reached for the keys and rose to his feet.

“Hi.” He held them out to me, and I wanted to laugh and the eerie reflection of our first meeting.

“Hi,” I echoed.

“Were you on a date?”

There was no point in lying to him. “Yes.”

He looked away, his jaw clenching.

Silently, I unlocked the door and held it open. After a moment’s hesitation, he walked in.

He paced the floor of my living room. I took off my shoes and put my keys on the table, waiting for him to speak. I felt out of sorts and unprepared for what was to come. Even when I heard him come to a halt, I didn’t lift my gaze to meet his.

“Why would you-- I thought we had something.” His tone was heavy with accusation.

I stared back at him in challenge. “Sure. We had something. But I didn’t want to fool myself into thinking it was more than it was.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Us! You. You send me all these mixed signals, and I know you’re still hung up on someone else but I let myself get in too deep anyway. I had to protect myself.”

“I’m not hung up on someone else,” he shouted, raising his hands in frustration.

“Of course you are!” I matched his volume. “You told me so yourself.”

“When did I do that?” He sounded honestly bewildered.

“A few months ago. You said you were in love with someone but she didn’t love you back. And then I saw you with JJ that day. I know it’s her. It’s okay. You didn’t promise me anything.”

Feeling drained, I wrapped my hands around my middle. The tears were threatening to fall, but I tried to hold them at bay. This would be over soon. It all would.

“JJ--” he barked out a laugh, surprising me.

“What about this situation is funny to you?” I demanded.

“No, listen--”

“You’re hot and you’re cold. You kick me out right after our first time and then you’re sweet the next day. How do you want me to feel about that?”

“I’m sorry about-”

“Trying to talk to you is impossible! I want to help you. But you clearly don’t want to talk to me!”

“That’s not--”

“And then you’re over here all the time, and I get that it’s because you want to distract yourself, but you have to know how it would con--”

“God, would you just shut up and listen to me for once?”

I glared up at him. He was undeterred, a strange glint in his eyes.

“I love you,” he informed me, striking me dumb. “It took me a while to realise it, but it’s true. I love you.”

All I could do was gape at him as he walked closer to me and took my tightly clenched fists in his hands. “I’m sorry if I made you feel like I was holding back. I’m trying to be better. And I don’t know what you thought you saw between me and JJ,” he said very slowly, stroking his thumbs gently over my palms, “but all that’s there is a lot of trauma and shared experiences. Yes, I thought I loved her once, but that was a long time ago. We’ve never-- she’s not you.”

Traitorously, that tendril of hope began to coil around my heart again as I searched his face, looking for a trace of a lie.

I found none.

I surged forward, crashing my lips to his with no finesse and too much force, but he was ready for me, releasing my hands and cradling my waist instead. I gripped his hair, letting the tears spill at last, an overjoyed laugh bubbling out of my throat and into his mouth. I let my hands roam the hard plane of his body, the delicious ripple of wiry muscle beneath his shirt, the hidden softness that only I could feel.

“I love you,” I told him when we broke apart for air. “I’m glad I can tell you, I love you, I fucking love you.” Spencer grinned down at me, and the look was so fond I had to kiss him again.

The rest was a blur of hastily discarded clothes and the steadfastly ignored pain of knocking into furniture before we finally found my bed and tumbled into it.

(“All this time, I could have had you,” I groaned into his ear while he thrust his fingers into me, mouthing along my jaw.

“You have me,” he promised into my skin an eternity later, when he was inside me and my nails were scrambling for purchase along his back, my vision going white.)

That night, there were no painful confessions or taunting insecurities. There were just the two of us, blissfully entwined together, and the deepest of dreamless sleeps. Somewhere in the middle of falling out and falling back together, we had found our new rhythm.

.fin.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagines #spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid smut #criminal minds smut #mgg #matthew gray gubler

[misschifuyu]

Hello! Could i request a HCS for izana and the Haitani brothers discovering their s/o is good at fighting, because their s/o save them from a fight? I hope you have a great day, sorry if the request doesn't make sense, my English isn't exactly the best <3

- babes your english is absolutely perfect, and thank you so much for requesting !! i do hope you like it ! ♡

Izana, Ran and Rindou discovering that their s/o is good at fighting

genre: not sure..it isn't really fluff, just simple gang fight things

warnings: violence

Izana

whenever izana got involved in any type of fight, it was usually quite a rough situation. he would only ever get involved with another gang's member if it was truly necessary

the sight was brutal, punches being thrown between the two men as they attempted to knock the other out. other tenjiku members had gathered around the scene, but nobody dared to get involved in the fight of the president

besides, they knew he would only curse them out if they did

you had heard about the fight from a running koko who had passed by you whilst you were walking near the area, heading in the direction of the gang's main gathering point

it didn't take the two of you very long to arrive and, upon seeing the fight that was taking place and who was involved in it, you pushed your way through the crowd of spectators. a challenge, seeing as most of the tenjiku members were quite bulky and didn't even recognise the presence of the prident's partner

the other guy had already taken a fair amount of hits, but it appeared that izana had also received his portion of punches to his body

you didn't doubt his strength, so you remained at the sidelines as the two ran up to each other once more, shouts filling the air as the gang members tried to distract the rival

unfortunately, one of those shouts had been considerably louder than the rest, causing the leader to whip his head around in case it was another member joining in on the brawl

this left a predominantly open window for his opponent, something that rarely ever happened to izana. before he was able to react, a swift leg came into contact with his head, knocking onto the ground instantly

it had most definitely caused a fair amount of damage to him, and when your horrified eyes landed on his almost unconscious body, you weren't able to hold back your running steps towards the bastard who had thrown your boyfriend to the ground

you were stealthy enough to catch him off guard, giving you enough time to bring your arm around and delivering a harsh hit on the guy's throat

both from the force and being stunned at the sudden attack, the taller man lost his balance, eyes rolling up as he hit the ground. you hadn't realised you had hit him that hard, truthfully; but you were glad you had gotten rid of him

as you turned back round towards the injured president, you met his widened eyes as he stared up at you, promptly switching over to look at the fallen man before him

"y/n, I..."

"are you alright?"

you quickly crouched down to check his body for any serious hits, not realising how surprised you had left your boyfriend after that unexpected attack from your behalf

he was more than just impressed. proud was the word he looked for, and he was sure to ask you all about your skills once you got him back home

Ran

ran getting into a fight with another man was a sight that stuck in everyone's mind if they ever witnessed it

be it with his brother or not, he never showed even the smallest ounce of mercy towards his attacker. if they wanted to fight, he was going to make them regret they ever considered doing so

with the aid of his peculiar, metal rod - which nobody actually knew where he got it from in the first place - he never left a brawl on the losing side

he was a haitani brother, after all. he feared nothing and no one, to put it simply

despite all of this, you always grew nervous whenever he went up against someone. sure, he had a strength that topped any other gang members' in the area, but there always stood a chance of a weak moment, a momentary distraction

and it was all you could think about as you watched the scene unfold in front of you. stood beside his younger brother, your eyes followed the rapid movements that were exchanged between the two s62 generation members. it was rare that ran ever encountered someone his age nowadays, so he was giving it his all for the special occasion

unfortunately, you had noticed that his rival was quite skilled in his fighting techniques, and every now and then you had to hold your breath as they threw a punch a little too close to comfort to your boyfriend. it terrified you, to say the least

rindou kept assuring you that you had nothing to worry about, but as you watched ran slowly lose energy to keep up the fast pace, your concerns only grew in size

the last straw was taken when the other man grabbed hold of the metal rod just before it came in contact with his head. surprised at the uncommon act, ran remained still for a split second as the weapon was ripped out of his hands.

unable to take up an offensive stance quick enough to attack, he was greeted with a harsh blow to his gut, causing him to bend over in pain before receiving another hit, this time to his legs

watching him struggling to get back up onto his feet, your heart was practically at your throat. was he able to get back up in time?

upon noticing the opponent's leg lifting up, with the intentions of smashing the haitani brother's head against the ground, you ran towards him as fast as your stamina would allow you

adrenaline kicking in, you reached him just in time to throw a swift punch to his ribcage, halting his next attack as the sound of cracking bones were heard throughout the area

an agonising scream left his mouth as he spotted you just below him. despite his towering height, you had managed to give him a brutal blow; however, you weren't sure what your next move was going to be

luckily, you were pushed out of the way, towards ran, before a leg came in contact with the guy's head. rindou had gotten involved just in time, and soon enough, other members started piling up on the stranger

hand grabbing onto his abdomen, ran was looked up at you from the ground, utterly stunned at your actions. your worrisome nature soon came back as you got down and tended to him, asking him if anything felt serious

the guy was on a whole other realm, still not believing what you had just done, so you would have to talk to him a little more before he actually spoke, praising you immensely for your skills

Rindou

it was rare for rindou to actually take part in fights. he and his brother had taken over roppongi, so there was really nothing else to do unless some punk decided he wanted to challenge them. though, usually, they'd just get knocked out by ran's metal rod in the first two minutes upon arrival

if circumstances ever lined up to get rindou involved in a serious fight, without the company of his brother, he had a tendency of going all out, knowing that the brawl wouldn't last very long

all of his energy would go into going up against his opponent, determined to show everyone how he was more than capable to take someone down without the aid of anyone else

you had always sensed that he did it for self-approval, honestly. being the younger haitani brother, he had always been looked past, so when he got the chance to fight alone, it would be a vicious one

a member of a neighbouring gang had come up with the bright idea to compare the fighting skills of the brothers, with complete faith that he was going to beat both of them up, individually

it was really just the perfect scenario for rindou, and you could tell he was giving it his all as he tackled the stranger down several times

although it seemed he had the upper hand in the situation, you were starting to worry over his energy. 10 minutes had gone by since the beginning of the fight now, and you could tell both his and his rival's stamina was starting to give way

it was only natural, seeing how the two were going at it with full force.

as they continued to fight, you spotted ran on the other side of the gathering of members, watching intently as his brother took down the guy. it was clear by his expression that you weren't the only one who had noticed the toppling descent of rindou's strength

it all came to a turning point when, as he held down his opponent to the ground, the other was able to throw a kick at such an angle that your boyfriend lost some of his grip

this allowed the guy to release himself from the hold, quickly spinning round to send a flying punch to rindou's face that he received by mere millimetres. it was rare for him to not act immediately, but with the loss of strength, you figured he was struggling to even do that

the beating against your chest was now racing, watching as your boyfriend was repeatedly being punched in the face. why wasn't he moving? had he given up?

the loud shouts from other gang members around them increased as it posed to be a loss for the haitani brother, and you didn't know what to do

biting the inside of your cheek, you decided that, seeing as nobody was bothering to make a move, you would take into into your own hands

with a speed you hadn't even expected from yourself, you sprinted over to the man above rindou, quickly hooking your arm around his neck to halt his repeated punches

with the strong grip you had on him, you were able to keep him still until you smashed the bottom of your palm up his jaw, promptly knocking him out into your arms

discarding the heavy body to the floor without a care, you lingered over the bloodied face that belonged to your partner. you took his face into your hands, cradling it as you uttered out worried questions about his state.

although he didn't tell you in that moment, he had seen what you had done and was thoroughly impressed by the swiftness of your skills. once he woke up a few hours later, you were bombarded with words of appreciation, but also suggestions for you to show him some of your hidden ways

#tokyo revengers #tokyo manji revengers #tokyo revengers izana #izana kurokawa #tokyo revengers ran #ran haitani #tokyo revengers rindou #rindou haitani #tokyo revengers x reader

[ginnyweasleymybeloved]

summer breezes / george weasley

hi crew :) idk why i wrote this but i was in a george mood so here we go ;)

summary: george acts like he hates you, he doesn’t really hate you. you act like you hate him, but you don’t really hate him. chaos ensues.

slight neville x reader for a second

word count: 6.9k

warnings: swearing, george being mean, lil angsty, fluffy at the end, reader’s house is not specified <3, mentions of food, kissing

let me know what you think ;)

“And what do you expect me to do? By the time I’d even realised I was falling I’d already landed face first on the proverbial concrete,” you groaned out in exasperation, while your best friend looked at you with so much distaste that anyone would’ve thought you’d murdered his family pet.

He shook his head, a scowl as clear as day splashed across his lips as he reprimanded you for your heart’s foolishness, “Of all people…” he scoffed in disgust, “Honestly, Y/n.”

“You know, you shouting at me isn’t going to fix anything,” he rolled his eyes at your statement and racked his eyes over your disheveled state. You’d obviously been battling with yourself over your—unfortunate—crush for some time. As your best friend, Ron Weasley knew he’d have to soften up on you eventually, but honestly, it was your own fault for falling for one of his disastrous siblings.

You were currently sprawled out on Harry’s bed, across from the red-headed boy you’d known since you were in nappies, your arms hanging off the edges of Harry’s four-poster. Neither you or Ron had a clue where Harry, or Hermione, had disappeared off to today. Harry was probably on the quidditch pitch practicing while Hermione haunted the library, you supposed as you listened to Ron’s rantings, wishing they’d been there to mediate.

“—of all of my siblings too! You couldn’t have picked, oh I don’t know, Charlie? Or Fred even? Merlin, even Ginny! But no! You just had to go and bloody fall for the only Weasley who actively cannot stand you.” You only caught that portion of his rave, having gotten lost in the idea of being coddled sympathetically by Harry or Hermione. You adore Ron, really, he’s your loyalist and longest friend, but Merlin was he a total drama queen.

“Charlie is five years older than me, Fred is my wingman and honestly, I snogged him on a dare last summer and I wasn’t that impressed and in case you’ve forgotten, Ronald, Ginny is dating Harry,” you lectured, ignoring how he rolled his eyes as you continued, “Also I’m well aware that he hates me. You don’t need to keep reminding me.”

His composure cracked after hearing your depressed mumble, and with a sigh he moved from his spot on his own bed and made the short trip over to Harry’s. Ron gently pulled you into a sitting position on the edge of the mattress and sat himself down next to you. He let out a heavy sigh, still slightly shaking his head—he couldn’t seem to stop—, then he dropped a heavy arm around your shoulder and pulled you into his side, finally offering you the comfort you’d been seeking out in the first place.

“S’alright, Y/n. Maybe he’ll get hit in the head with a bludger and forget he’s hated you since he was four.” Ron encouraged, very weakly.

You released a sigh of your own at that, “I feel like I’m betraying myself here. Like I’m letting that stupid git win.” Ron couldn’t stop the laugh he let out at your grumble.

“I’ll be honest, I thought he’d be the first to crack. You can be quite scary when you get going.” Ron divulged, shuddering at the memories of when he’d been on the receiving end of your rath.

Your family and the Weasley family had been extremely close since before you or Ron were even born, which meant you’d grown up alongside all of the Weasley children. Of course, because of your ages you and Ron had been attached at the hip as infants and remained that way even now, late into your fifth year of Hogwarts. Most of the Weasley children simply adored you, as you did them. However, there was one boy who, for whatever reason, hated you to your very core and as far as you could remember; he always had.

He is none other than the younger of the two twins; George Weasley. Despite the fact that Fred was actually quite fond of you, his twin refused to warm up to you in any way, shape or form. No, the tall and annoyingly attractive boy had made it his life’s mission not to get along with you, but instead, wage a war on you that spanned for the entirety of your childhood and adolescence.

“When did things change? When did it stop being a challenge? When did it start affecting me like this? I used to take his insults like a champ! I used to get him back worse!” You wondered out loud, letting your head flop onto Ron’s broad shoulder as he let out a puff of air through his nose.

“You still take it like a champ, numpty,” he chastised you gently, recoiling ever so slightly when you lurched forward in complete defeat. Your hands shot up to cover your face as you rested your forehead against your knees.

“No! I don’t,” you murmured dejectly, lifting your face from your hands to make eye contact with Ron. “Do you remember the other night in the Great Hall? When Neville told me he thought my hair looked pretty? And George, out of bloody nowhere, comes over and says and I quote, ‘I wouldn’t waste your time on this one, Longbottom. You’d have a better time kissing that toad of yours.’ Do you remember that?” Ron raised an eyebrow and nodded in confusion, your voice seemed to be steadily rising in octaves as you recalled the events of the other night. He had to admit, it had been an unusually unnecessary comment on George’s part, but the youngest Weasley boy wasn’t really sure where you were going with it.

“Well do you remember how I had said, ‘how’s that girlfriend of yours, Georgie? Figured out a way to make her stop being invisible yet?’ and then remember I rushed off? Do you wanna know where I rushed off to?” You pressed, watching intently as Ron nodded his head, unsure if he even wanted to know. “I went to the bathroom and I cried! I cried, Ron! Over something George bloody Weasley said to me!”

His eyes widened at that. Never once had George ever managed to properly upset you.

“And over something as small as that? I’ve heard him say a lot worse to your face.” Ron said in disbelief and you nodded, expression mimicking his as if you couldn’t believe it yourself.

“Right? And it’s like everytime he says something mean to me now my stomach drops and it actually hurts,” Ron regarded you softly, his eyes sad while he rubbed your back as you buried your face in your hands yet again, “Do you know what’s worse though?”

Ron opened his mouth to hazard a guess but no sound escaped as he drew nothing but blanks.

“I actually care what he thinks of me now. As if I actually value his idiotic opinions of me.”

It was at that moment that Harry entered the room sporting muddy quidditch gear and a confused expression, “May I ask why we’re having a heart to heart on my bed?”

Ron shrugged, continuing to rub soothing circles into your back as he told Harry mournfully, “Y/n likes George.”

“Merlin.” Harry whispered, as horrified to learn of your crush as Ron had been. “But, Y/n, he hates you! I mean he really hates you-“ the chosen one was cut off by a pillow making contact with his face. Ron had chucked it at him the second he felt your form begin to shake beneath his touch.

“Bloody hell, Harry! You’ve gone and upset her even more!” He whispered harshly. Harry quickly set his broom down and plopped himself down beside you, leaving you trapped between himself and Ron. The green-eyed boy rested his cheek against your lightly shaking back and managed to snake his arms around your torso.

“Sorry. Shouldn’t have said that.” He told you genuinely. “Should we go and find Hermione?”

You only shook your head. Embarrassment quickly overtook you as you realised your were crying in front of your two best friends over George fucking Weasley.

“No. No, I’m okay. It’s fine,” you sat up and hastily wiped your tears away.

“It’s okay to be upset, Y/n,” Harry spoke softly, squeezing your middle in a short hug, getting mud from his quidditch practice all over you.

With a resolute shake of your head you stood up and faced the boys, who each looked at you with pity filled eyes, then you spoke as steadily as you could, “I’m not upset. He hasn’t upset me,” you weren’t fooling anyone, really. Your eyes were bloodshot, your cheeks and nose were red and your voice was slightly hoarse when you spoke. The boys entertained you anyway, nodding in agreement.

“I’m telling you this as his brother and your best mate; you can do better.” Ron told you honestly, he wasn’t lying either, you were the type of girl who could get any boy she wanted without lifting a finger. Well, not any boy—obviously— but that wasn’t anything to do with you. Ron had his suspicions in regards to why his brother acted like such a knob towards you, however he’d been thrown off his scent recently when the older ginger stopped being mean to you teasingly in favour of being just plain mean.

You gave Ron the best smile you could muster at his words, “You are absolutely right, Ronald.”

Harry snorted before making his way over to Ron’s trunk, he rifled through it for a few seconds before pulling out one of Ron’s jumpers. He casually tossed, what you recognised to be Ron’s Christmas jumper from Molly, over to you with a grin, “Put that on. I got muck all over you.”

You had plenty of your own Christmas jumpers made by Molly Weasley but they were all the way over in your own dorm. Besides, you liked stealing the ones made for the boys as they were usually far too big for you which made them extremely comfortable to wear.

So you happily pulled the maroon jumper over your head, the wool effectively covering your dirtied t-shirt.

“Oh yes, by all means, you two just work away.” Ron grunted sarcastically. In all honesty, he didn’t care if you stole every piece of fabric he owned, if it made you feel better, he couldn’t care less.

“Right,” you said, making your way to the door of the dorm room, “I think I’ll go for a walk before the sunsets, calm myself down a bit.”

The boys nodded, “See you at dinner?” Ron asked and you gave him a smile and a small nod of confirmation before you set off out of the Gryffindor common room.

Thankfully, you didn’t run into George on your way out. You walked peacefully through the gardens and behind the greenhouses, it was around five in the evening and the sun was beginning to stoop low behind the tree line. The days were beginning to take on a chill as October approached quickly, you’d gone out without grabbing a jacket and you couldn’t deny that you were beginning to feel the cold nipping at your skin despite Ron’s jumper. Pulling the sleeves further down your wrists you carried on, trudging forward through the fallen leaves of the garden, you weren’t ready to go back inside yet. Going back to the castle meant you’d have to look your problem in the face, literally. You settled on the fact that you’d rather endure the physical cold rather than the emotional coldness you were sure to receive from George at dinner.

When you’d reached the back of the third greenhouse you could faintly hear someone humming to themselves and a soft smile found your lips when you saw who it was. Neville sat on a chair in the greenhouse, right by a plant that you hadn’t a clue what it was called, seemingly humming the little tune for the plant in question. Despite his undeniable clumsiness, there was something about Neville Longbottom that soothed you greatly. He has a good soul and his heart is usually in the right place, even if his head is sometimes screwed on slightly loose.

Gently, trying not to startle him you knocked on the closed door of the greenhouse before you opened it and walked in, “Hi, Neville. Mind if I join you?”

Neville blushed slightly but nodded his head, “Course! There’s a spare chair just there,” he pointed nervously to the chair. Once you settled yourself beside him, he let himself relax slightly.

“What sort of plant is this?” You asked him curiously. You really liked plants but you weren’t the best at keeping them alive, Neville though, seemed to be something of a green thumb.

He beamed at your question and quickly began to explain everything about the plant before you. You didn’t absorb a lot of it but listening to Neville speak so freely, something he rarely got to do amidst the other Gryffindor boys, filled you with a sense of serenity. Between his voice and the light wind that blew against the glass building, you’d completely forgotten about your red-headed problem.

“—sorry, I’m probably boring you. My nan says I have a tendency to ramble.” He cut himself off, cheeks heating up as he rubbed the back of his neck bashfully.

With a small giggle you only shook your head at the brown haired boy, “You’re not boring me at all! I quite like listening to you speak,” you admitted although you felt a bit silly after saying it out loud. Neville seemed to grow even more flustered after the words left your lips.

His eyes searched your face for any sign that you were teasing him, but all he saw was your kind eyes and comforting smile. Not exactly sure about what to say to you, Neville made an observation, “You’re cold.”

You gave him a nonchalant shrug, “I’m okay.”

Completely unsatisfied with your answer, Neville shook his head in protest and shrugged off his jacket. He was used to spending a lot of time in the garden so he was usually sporting far more layers than necessary, just in case. “Here, wear this. You’ll catch a cold otherwise,” he fretted and you didn’t have the heart to turn his offer down, you didn’t want to turn it down either, you were absolutely freezing. Gratefully you accepted the jacket and wasted no time in pulling it on.

“Thank you, Neville,” he looked you over for a moment, you could tell he was debating with himself on whether or not to speak, after a long few seconds of his eyes running over you he spoke.

“You look nice- I, uh, the jacket. You look nice in the jacket- I mean, the jacket looks nice on you-“ another giggle left your lips and effectively put the boy’s fumbled ramble to an end.

“Again, thank you, Neville. You are unbelievably kind.” You told him sincerely, quite enjoying the blush that adorned his cheeks.

“We should probably head back to the castle for dinner now. It’s gotten dark,” Neville said, standing up after giving his plant a loving pat.

The walk back to the castle with Neville was nice. The pair of you chatted idly about school subjects and house drama, but you had to admit, you weren’t paying a huge amount of attention to the conversation.

“Thanks again for lending me your jacket,” you said sweetly, shrugging the jacket off as you reached the main hall of the castle.

Neville, who seemed to be in a perpetual state of bashfulness, took the jacket back gently, a rosy blush painting his features, “It was no problem, really.”

Neville had always been incredibly kindhearted, sometimes to his own detriment. He treated people with respect and never turned anyone away if they needed help with anything at all. He is sweet, honest, loyal and, whether you liked him or not, he is indisputably adorable. And you found yourself thinking about how entirely better your life would be if your heart had chosen Neville to have a romantic fondness towards.

After separating from Neville, you made your way towards the Great Hall. On your way you bumped into Fred Weasley, who surprisingly, wasn’t accompanied by his twin. He greeted you with a wide smile and, as he always did, he ruffled your hair.

“So! I have a proposition for you,” the look on his face as he spoke was nothing short of wicked, a pit of nerves began to form in your stomach with the way his eyes were lit up excitedly.

“What are you proposing?” You encouraged exhaustedly. Whatever it was would probably end with you running from Filch.

Fred lopped his long arm around your shoulder, effectively pulling you along with him as he walked in the opposite direction of the Great Hall. Any chance of you getting fed this evening had gone out the window the second Fred clapped eyes on you, you’d made your peace with it. “I’m glad you asked, princess- “ at the sound of the pet name you let out a guttural groan.

“Freddie, please, I’m not in the mood to help you make some poor girl jealous just so you can get a snog,” you whined weakly only for the boy to ruffle your hair and tug you closer to his side.

“Let me finish! As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted,” he paused to glare at you jokingly and you smiled apologetically, “I have a plan to make George stop acting like a prat.”

A disbelieving scoff left your lips, “Yeah that’s likely,” Fred laughed and pinched your cheek lightly before carrying on.

“Angelina told me that she heard you crying in the girls toilets the other night,” he informed you. Your eyes widened in shock and confusion, you didn’t think anyone was in there with you and you also couldn’t piece together what your moment of weakness had to do with Fred’s master plan. “And before you start, I know it’s because of George.”

“That’s ridiculous, Fred.” You lied, unconvincingly.

Fred laughed again, it was a gentle laugh that let you know he hadn’t come here to tease you but to help you, “I know it’s ridiculous and that’s exactly why I know you’ve been so down in the dumps the last few days.”

“Besides,” he started again when you remained silent, “Why else would Ron be giving his brother the silent treatment?”

“What does any of this have to do with your plan?” You asked, eyes sad and heart heavy for the second time that day. You’d only just managed to get the whole thing out of your mind, and yet, here it was again.

“Well I happen to know why George acts the way he does,” you met him with a raised eyebrow and a bored expression.

“Because he hates me, I know.” Fred’s lips grew into a wicked grin and he shook his head, coming to a stop in the middle of the hallway.

“That’s where you’re wrong. He doesn’t hate you,” he lowered his lips to hover right by your ear before he whispered quietly, “He loves you.”

With a roll of your eyes, you pushed the boy away, fixing him with a hard stare, “Come on, Fred. That’s not funny.”

“I’m not joking!” He exclaimed desperately, “We were in potions making amortentia, yeah? And Slughorn called George up to tell the class what he smelled and do you know what he said?” Fred retold madly, knowing full well that this was possibly the only opening he’d get to make the two of you realise your own feelings. Fred was well aware that you developed a crush on George, he picked up on it the second you began looking crestfallen when hit with a snide remark from his twin. He knew long before now that George had loving feelings towards you too, but their recent potions class was the only hard evidence he had to support his theory.

You shrugged helplessly in response, and Fred grabbed your shoulders and looked down at you urgently, “He said it smelled of cloudberries, daisies and-this is a direct quote-‘summer breezes’,” you stared at him numbly, not exactly sure what to say as the description did match the perfume you’d been wearing regularly since you were thirteen.

“That’s you, Y/n!” Fred confirmed and you pulled your lips between your teeth before shaking your head in complete denial.

“Lots of girls wear that perfume-“ Fred cut you off, ruthlessly.

“Name one.” You racked your brain but you genuinely couldn’t name another person who wore the same perfume as you. “You can’t, can you? Because it’s your smell!”

“Ok fine! So it’s my smell, what exactly do you expect me to do with this information?” Fred rolled his eyes in exhaustion at you.

“Blimey, you’re as daft as he is sometimes, do you know that?” Fred ran his hands down his face in exasperation before looking at you softly, “I except you to come with me so we can drive him mental for a bit and if he gets nasty I’ll embarrass him because I’m an incredible brother.”

You let him lead you towards Gryffindor Tower all while complaining about how you were starving only for Fred to hush you each time you let out a hungered whine, “We can raid the kitchen later on, love,” he promised and you sighed in defeat, “That’s the spirit.”

When the pair of you entered the Gryffindor common room, George was already there, probably waiting for Fred to return it. He sat one one of the sofas that faced the fire, completely relaxed and you hated the fact that you thought he looked amazingly ethereal with the way the flames from the fire lit his skin in an orange glow.

He hadn’t noticed you yet and Fred took notice of this. The older twin subtly slid his hand into yours and intertwined your fingers with his before turning his head and shooting you a mischievous wink. Fred Weasley was a nightmare, but when he was on your side, he never failed to make you smile.

Accepting that whatever Fred was about to drag you into would result in nothing but chaos you took a deep breath and followed Fred over to the sofa.

“What is she doing here?” George practically seethed, despite the intensity of his glare, you didn’t miss the nervous look he shot in Fred’s direction. What you had missed, though, was how harshly he’d clenched his jaw upon noticing your intertwined hands.

You decided that tonight you’d play the game slightly differently, if what Fred was saying was true, it would make things all the more entertaining. So, instead of your usual menacing glare and ego-shattering insult you met George with an innocent smile, “Was just hanging out with Freddie, thought I’d come say hello,” you said, sitting in the middle of the two twins.

George stared at you suspiciously, “Hello. That all?”

“Hi. No, actually, I think I’ll sit with you for a while. If that’s okay?” Fred was smirking from his spot beside you as he watched George’s face contort.

“You’ve never wanted to sit with me before.” He told you, squinting his eyes and trying to decipher what you were up to. He couldn’t lie to himself, he definitely wouldn’t mind you staying so close to him for a while, however he’d also sooner die then let you think you had the upper hand.

His and your composure cracked simultaneously at your next sentence, your truthful and somewhat vulnerable mumble of, “Well, you’ve never given me a chance to.” He knew you were right so he didn’t say anymore, opting to shift his gaze to the roaring fire, trying his best not to let his mind linger on the fact that you were wearing his brother’s jumper. His nose perked up at the scent that drifted from your spot, unusually close to him. There was no doubt in his mind that he’d fancied you for a long time, but, there was also no denying that he’d done a perfect job of making you hate him. Yet, as much as he wanted to just cut the crap, tell you that he thinks you’re the most insufferably beautiful girl he’d ever seen and kiss you and never ever stop, his pride would never allow him to cave. Especially not when you challenged him so effortlessly.

“So how come you were headed to dinner so late anyway?” Fred piqued up, growing tired of the lack of hostility between yourself and his twin.

“Oh. I was sort of worked up earlier so I decided to go for a walk ‘round the greenhouses. I bumped into Neville and I suppose I just lost track of time,” you explained halfheartedly.

Fred let yet another smirk overtake his face, “Longbottom, eh?” He wiggled his eyebrows and you let out a short giggle while shaking your head, sure, it would’ve been a good topic to tease George with, however, Neville was simply too sweet to be used as a pawn.

“Don’t get me wrong, he’s very sweet. But he’s just a friend,” George looked almost satisfied with that answer, his usual scowl making an appearance once again.

“He could do better.” It was a barefaced lie. Neville couldn’t do better than you. In fact, George was of the firm belief that nobody could do better than you.

“Of course he could, he’s quite the charmer,” you spoke wistfully, finally giving Fred the show he’d been hoping for, as you egged George on.

George pretended to think for a moment, “I’m sure he is. Personally I think you’d be more suited to Filch, although, I’ve heard his standards are quite high.”

You took the boy by surprise when you laughed, the airy giggle left your mouth had such a profound effect on George that he almost wished he’d kept his mouth shut. His heart was leaping and there were butterflies beginning to form in his stomach, he physically had to will himself not to stare at you in awe when your eyes turned to meet his. The glow of the fire only aided in showing him how gorgeous those stupid eyes of yours are. “Mmm, yeah I suppose I should lower my expectations,” you paused briefly and mimicked George’s earlier motion of pretending to mull over your options. Your next action had Fred practically howling with laughter.

“You’re available, aren’t you Georgie?” You’d asked in a mock sultry tone, leaning towards him and lightly brushing your hand down his arm. Loving the way he choked on air you got up from the sofa, not before shooting him a wink, and sauntered towards the portrait hole, “I’ll be in the kitchens. See ya later, sexy.” You directed the last part at George, who looked as though he’d been frozen in time as Fred’s laughter grew in volume.

Upon entering the kitchen, the house elves had fussed around you, handing you food at any given opportunity. You had finished eating a while ago, you were currently nursing a hot cup of tea while chatting away to one of the house elves, only to be interrupted by someone else entering the kitchen.

He set his sights on you and quickly moved to the seat across from you, a look of urgency on his face that reminded you of Fred, “Whatever he told you. It’s not true,” you raised an eyebrow, sipping your tea uncaringly.

“Mind elaborating?” You asked tiredly.

“Fred.”

“Thank you, George, very clear and helpful,” you grumbled sarcastically and the boy let out a huff.

“You were acting different. You know something. What did he tell you?” George demanded through gritted teeth and you only deflated against your chair. It always boggled your mind how everyone described George as the nicer of the twins.

Not answering, you decided to start asking your own questions, “Can I ask you something?”

“Seems like you’re going to no matter what I say,” he sighed out as an elf pottered up to him and handed him a cup full of hot tea. He took it gently and thanked the elf with such sincerity that you wished you hadn’t seen the exchange, simply because it stung to know he’d never treat you with that level of sincerity.

“Why do you hate me so much?” He sat frozen for a second. Your tone of voice took him by surprise. It was needy bordering on desperate, nothing like he’d ever heard you speak before, not to him anyway.

George took a sip of his tea and shrugged as if the question was a stupid one, “I don’t.” A cold, humourless laugh came from you in response, the kind of laugh that made his stomach drop.

“Bollox. I’m being serious, George. Tell me what it is about me that makes me so insufferable to you!” You exclaimed, heart rate increasing and tone raising in octaves as you felt yourself growing more upset by his reserved expression.

George let out a heavy sigh, the jig was about to be up. You were upset and merlin was he tired of pretending that he didn’t want you in every way, shape and form.

“Do you really want to know?”

“Yes.” There was no trace of hesitance or uncertainty in your voice, at this point you didn’t care what the answer was you just had to know.

“Fine,” he said all too casually and you knew by his tone that he, as per usual, wasn’t taking you seriously. “I don’t hate you. The only insufferable thing about you is how annoyingly gorgeous-“ you cut him off right then, with a scoff of pure disbelief.

Shaking your head rapidly, you stood from your chair and all but stormed out of the kitchen. His footsteps began to echoed behind you a few corridors later, he would’ve caught up to you sooner had your response to his would be confession not left him completely immobile. He called your name but you didn’t stop. You couldn’t stop. Tears stung your eyes and you absolutely refused to let him know that he’d managed to bring you to the point of tears. Not that it was the first time.

“Bloody hell, Y/n! Hold on would you?” He called, finally getting close enough to reach out and grab your wrist. He spun you around to face him and quickly placed his hands on your upper arms to stop you from doing another runner. When he took you in he swore he’d never hate himself more than he did the moment he looked at you to see your eyes filled with tears, small drops escaping and carving a trail down your cheeks while you sniffed miserably.

“What?” You snapped, hostility the only thing you felt like offering the ginger in the moment. His brown eyes bored into yours with so much intensity but they held something you didn’t recognise. They looked sad, almost.

“I wasn’t making fun of you.” He stated honestly but you furrowed your eyebrows, your eyes set in a glare.

“Then what were you doing?” You croaked, letting your tears fall freely as the damage was already done. The sinking of your stomach and the tightening of your chest didn’t do a thing to ease your mind as George’s hands squeezed your arms.

He licked his lips quickly, he felt they’d become unbearably dry, and then slowly, he let his hands trail down your arms and took your smaller hands into his own. He hoped you were feeling the same electricity he was when he touched you.

“I’ve been a prick to you. You didn’t deserve it and I’m sorry.” He sounded sincere, but you second guessed him. For all you knew it was just some elaborate prank, Fred was probably in on it too.

When your gaze didn’t soften, he continued to speak, “So I understand why you wouldn’t believe me when I tell you that I don’t hate you. But I just-“ he cut himself off with a heavy sigh.

“You just what?” You squeaked when his eyes spent a moment too long observing your lips. You hardly had time to register the feeling of his hands leaving yours before they were cupping your cheeks instead. “What’re you doing?” You wondered, completely dazed by the way he stared at you. His warm hands holding your face causing your stomach to jolt in an entirely different sensation than before. As much as you wanted to push him away and tell him to shove his apology, you couldn’t help but take him in. His lips were parted ever so slightly and his cheeks were flushed, probably from chasing you through the castle, his hair was disheveled and merlin he looked like he wanted to kiss you.

Your question floated in the air, completely unanswered. Next thing you knew his lips were on yours. He kissed you as if you were oxygen and he’d just been drowning and you couldn’t help but move your lips harmonically against his too. Your hands clutched his wrists as he continued to cradle your cheeks. In all honesty you weren’t sure at what point he’d backed you against the wall, or at what point his tongue had entered your mouth or when exactly his hands had migrated to your hips, yours now tangled in his hair. His body was pressed flush against yours and the small groans he’d let out when you tugged at his hair or ran your tongue against his made you realise that you couldn’t care less if this was one big prank or joke. It was happening and that’s all you cared about.

Even as he reluctantly pulled away, he chased your lips with several shorter kisses before separating entirely. He rested his forehead against yours, his guard completely down now as he admired your swollen lips and heaving chest. The feeling of your fingers in his hair made it nearly impossible for him to keep his lips detached from yours, “You’ve no idea how many times I’ve thought about doing that.”

Your eyes searched his face for any sign that he was lying, when you found none you finally let yourself smile. A similar smile formed on George’s face, “I meant what I said earlier. I really do think you’re annoyingly gorgeous,” the boy silently praised himself when you let out a cute giggle.

“You’re quite cute too. When you’re not running that massive mouth of yours,” you teased although you weren’t really joking, to your surprise George let out a bellowing laugh before placing a fluttering kiss against your lips.

When he pulled away again he looked around the hallway, as if he only now realised where he was. Luckily nobody was wandering the halls since curfew was fast approaching and the unwelcoming cold that occupied the hallways left little reason for students or staff to be out and about. George slid his hand into yours again, this time intertwining your fingers with his. He gave you a hopeful glance and asked, “Do you wanna go somewhere?”

You nodded your head and let him tug you into one of the abandoned astronomy classrooms on the upper floor of the castle, Filch rarely ever patrolled up there which is why George decided on it. As well as that, since the classroom, which had been out of use for a good few years, had been used for astronomy the ceiling was bewitched to reflect the night sky.

George hadn’t come to this particular class in a while but thinking on his feet he remembered the cupboard at the back of the classroom used to hold blankets, he remembered when the classroom had been in use during his first year, students would be all but freezing during the winter, so they’d stocked the classroom with blankets to be brought out during the colder months.

He made his way over to the cupboard and grinned happily when his hand landed on a rather large woollen blanket. The material was scratchy but it would do for what he needed it for. He grabbed one more blanket from the dusty press before he made his way back over to you.

George suppressed a chuckle as he watched you, your face completely turned up, watching the stars on the ceiling with awe in your eyes. He busied himself with laying the wool blanket out on the bare floor, the room was devoid of tables and chairs so he didn’t have to worry about finding a space. Once he was finished, he plopped down on the blanket and expectantly patted the empty space beside him, “Come on then, sit down,” he urged and you finally tore your eyes away from the charmed ceiling.

A small laugh left your lips when you settled yourself down beside him, he wasted no time in covering the pair of you in the second blanket. With an exaggerated sigh he laid back and waited for you to do the same, he turned on his side to face you when you did. In contrast to earlier, George had an air of nervousness about him as he deftly took your hand and began playing with your fingers, not meeting your eyes. “Just out of curiosity,” he began quietly, making eye contact with you now, “What exactly did Fred tell you?”

His question forced a somewhat smug smirk to crawl onto your lips and you couldn’t help but take the opportunity to tease him. You leaned up on your elbows and twisted slightly so you could look down at him, trying not to waste too much time admiring the view, you answered him, “Oh, nothing really. Your lovely twin just happened to mention that you had a very eventful potions class the other day…” you trailed off, biting back a smile as he groaned.

“Mhm and what was it that he said you smelled from the amortentia?” You poked his cheek and he closed his eyes, a tiny smile growing on his face despite his blushing cheeks. “Cloudberries…oh! And daisies, now, what was the other thing? Let me think-“ you pretended to ponder before George cut you off by pulling you down on him and pressing his lips to yours in a kiss much softer than any of the others.

“Summer breezes,” he whispered against your lips before connecting them again, “It smelled like you,” and with that his hand snaked to the nape of your neck as he pressed his lips against yours, pouring all of his feelings into it, hoping it was enough. In all honesty, now that he’d felt what it was like to love you, he didn’t think he’d ever be able to go back to pretending to hate you.

Once he pulled away you were completely breathless, however, George seemed to have more to say. “I don’t want us to go back to the way we were,” absentmindedly you brushed his hair out of his eyes, stroking the red strands soothingly as he continued to confide in you, his voice, face and body completely vulnerable to you. Something about him trusting you with his feelings reassured you that his intentions were pure and banished any notion you possessed of the whole thing being a joke, “I didn’t like it, acting like that but you were always so unbothered that I felt like I had keep one upping you,” he confessed.

“You always gave me this feeling in my stomach whenever you’d come over to the Burrow with your parents when we were little and I didn’t understand it. I just thought that it must’ve meant I didn’t like you…” George seemed to get lost in his own mind as he gazed at you regretfully, his fingers trailed the length of your spine sofly, “By the time I realised, we were both older and I suppose I just thought you couldn’t feel the same ‘cause I made you hate me,” you hummed in acknowledgment, your fingers still working his hair, keeping it out of his eyes that looked at you so intently that you could’ve drowned in them and died happy.

“But then the other night after dinner Angie slapped me upside the head and talked my ear off about how out of order I’d been—obviously I agree with her! You weren’t even talking to me but Neville was complimenting you and I don’t know… just got possessive,” he muttered the last part, losing some confidence but regained it upon seeing the little smile on your lips. “Then Ron looked about ready to push me off the astronomy tower when I saw him this evening. Blimey, I knew it had to have something to do with you since Harry was snippy too.” You had to laugh at the exhausted look on his face when he recalled your two best friends.

Mockingly, you gave him a stern look and clicked your tongue, “Well, perhaps if you weren’t so mean to me all of this could’ve been avoided,” George groaned once again, feeling guilty he pulled you even closer and buried his face in your neck.

“M’sorry,” you carded your fingers through his hair, pressing a soft kiss to his head. Your lips against his head caused him to lift his face from the crook of your neck, “Forgive me?” He asked, a cute pout on his lips.

“I’ll think about it,” you teased, giggling at the offended look on his face. George let out a dissatisfied sigh, he pushed a strand of hair behind your ear before giving you a toothy smile.

“Don’t worry, love. I plan on making it up to you.”

#george weasley x reader #george weasley #harry potter x reader #fred weasley x reader #ron weasley x reader #neville longbottom x reader #weasley twins x reader

[widow-maximov]

Can you do a Natasha x reader of them finding out the reader is expecting, and basically they hadn’t told everyone else about their relationship yet and now they decide to because of r’s pregnancy~ 🦋✨

Of course! This definitely will be a lot of fun to do, Thank you for sending this request.

If anyone wants to tagged in my future work, DM me or use the requests to leave a tag so you'll be notified when I post, I don't have a limit on tags so whoever wants to be tag, feel free to message me.

────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────

Finally

Pairing: Natasha x Fem Reader

Warning: Language, a lot of fluff :3

Summary: Having a secret relationship with the famous Black Widow is hard enough, but what if Y/n finds out that she's finally pregnant..

Word count: 2.3k

⸻⸻⋙☸⋘⸻⸻

Here you are, alone in the bathroom sitting on the edge of the bathtub as you bounce your leg up and down, staring at the test that you just peed on, the anxiety in that moment cannot be explained but one just have to experience themselves.

You always wanted to start a family and throughout all the attempts you seem to fail each time, you and your girlfriend of 4 years have decided to finally start a family, the subject with your girlfriend was tough as she always was afraid of doing something wrong and ruin the child's view on her just like it did on her when she was small.

People might wonder who is this girlfriend that you decided to take a huge step with, well it's nonetheless Natasha Romanoff, the woman who swept you off your feet the second you laid your eyes on her.

Let's back track a little, shall we?

5 years ago

It was a difficult and stressful time for you, you have been working your ass off so you could get recognised by Tony Stark, he was going to pick someone to work along him for his new project and you were up for that task, you knew if you were good enough he would definitely take an interest in your work.

Where you currently worked paid you the minimum and it just wasn't enough so when you heard about the offer, you took it without thinking twice, you knew that this would be a good opportunity for you and being recognised world wide for the work you did with him would bring more and better job offers.

Even if you had slight doubt about the work you did for this, you were picked out of everyone who took part. The happiness you felt in that moment was unimaginable, you felt so proud of yourself and Tony was too.

You was quick to work with Tony, he needed someone asap and what you provided him was more than enough, you were finished within couple days, it wasn't until day 3 that you actually managed to leave the place with him, he was going to walk to you around and show you some stuff that he created, but of course that didn't go unnoticed by the team.

Tony knew that if he introduced you to them, there would be a possibility of you being spooked by their loud strong personalities but he took the risk as they were his family in a way.

They were more than happy to meet you and you were fascinated by their weapons and how they complimented them. You found yourself in deep conversations with everyone, creating new friends expect that one redhead.

You knew she was the Black Widow, she along with the team were all over the news, she was a little concerned at how fast everyone liked you, she was happy for a new addition but there was something her that told her to be aware.

With each passing week you spent with Stark, the more he grew fond of your presence, that he even made sure you have your own room in the tower so you wouldn't have to travel so far back where you lived, the team were excited when you accepted his offer to stay here and soon even though you wasn't a hero, you felt like a teammate.

Natasha grew fond of you as well, the way your smile would make her day a little bit better, the way your laughter would fill the room, making her smile as well, she was good at hiding her emotions so she wasn't worried that the team might find out about her little crush on you.

'Little' of course, that's what she wanted to believe but each time at the sight of you, that just backfired on her, the way you wouldn't even notice her until she literally had to clear her throat, there would be a second in your eyes where you would be lost but a smile would be plastered across your lips at the sight of the Russian.

"Hello Natty" You replied as you made your way where she was, by the coffee which you needed desperately.

She stiffen at the nickname which didn't go unnoticed, causing you to panic "Oh I'm sorry! I didn't want to overstep anything"

"No, no you didn't overstep anything.." Her voice quiet down as she looked anywhere else but you.

You felt a little awkward so when the coffee was done, you grabbed the cup and slowly made your way out of the kitchen, that's when she spoke up "It's just.. No one called me that before"

You turned to face her as she held herself, arms wrapped around herself, from her body language she was afraid to open up which caused a lightbulb to light up in your head.

You took a deep breath, gathering the courage "Do you have a free evening today?"

Her eyes darted to you as she nodded "Yeah"

You nodded with a smile at her reply "Okay" and walked out, a part of Natasha wanted to go after you and ask why but another part wanted to see what you will do.

The evening come by really quickly and the curiosity ate at Natasha, she waited and waited and nothing, she thought that maybe you just were curious yourself but when she walked inside her room, she saw a little white paper placed on her bed.

She walked over and opened it, expecting some sort of prank but it only instructed her to go to the roof and wear something comfortable, so she just did that.

You knew the redhead wasn't exactly fond of you.. or so you thought, so sitting on the roof waiting for her to show up was definitely nerve wracking. You had set up a nice comfy place on the roof, with a projector so you can watch movies, it was with the help of Tony of course, he had to give you the permission before you went and done anything.

Your head whipped towards the door and there she stood, she looked a little shy but when you waved her over, she quickly hid that emotion behind her smile.

She took a look around and raised her brows at you as she sat down next to you "What is all of this?"

You smiled "Whatever you want it to be"

She looked a little confused before a smile settled on her lips as she looked down so you continued "It can be a movie night, just me and you or we can talk or we just sit here in silence as we stare at the sky"

In the redheads life no one really cared that much about her feelings like you did in that moment "Thank you"

She nodded proudly at her with a very wide smile and she continued "We can talk and then watch a movie"

And that's what the two of you did, she opened up, you opened up and it was like a perfect match in heaven, so many similar interests and voiced options about opposite views, it was really everything the both of you wanted.

Present

Your heart dropped at the result in front of you, it was positive. It was fucking positive!

The excitement washed over as the anxiety disappeared, this is what you wanted, this is what the both of you wanted. Natasha couldn't have kids of her own which wasn't an issue so when you suggested it to her, she was head over hills with the idea.

Now here you are, jumping around in the bathroom with the stick in your hand, you felt so happy, the nights of crying that you would spend with Natasha holding you tight, overthinking that there was something wrong with you; No you were convinced there was something wrong with you even if Natasha reassured you that were wasn't, that doubt lingered.

Now it was time to tell Natasha, you was anxious because for the past year of trying, you saw that Natasha lost hope, she tried her best to hide it but you knew better. It did hurt you slightly but you hoped for the both of you.

You looked at your phone and there was no message from Natasha, she would usually message you saying she would come back home early but you knew her job, you both agreed that whilst trying for a baby, you wont work and if a miracle happens she will quit her jobs for the time being.

You sighed a little with disappointment at no message but at the moment you didn't care, you was pregnant which was something you always dreamed off, you have a perfect family and now that Natasha is in your life, you are more than sure that she is the only person you would want to do this with.

You practically spent all night waiting for her, she sometimes managed to even come the next day home or even after three days but you didn't care, you would go to them if that meant telling Natasha first, it would be hard to keep the excitement in front of the team.

The front door opened as you jumped up and waited with a sad smile across your face, which was the first thing Natasha noticed when she walked through the door, she rushed to your side as she dropped her things.

"What's wrong?" Her eyes scanned your body for any injuries but when she noticed nothing wrong, she asked again "Is everything okay, Моя любовь (my love)"

You looked at her, even though you wanted to prank her, you couldn't keep it in anymore. You smiled widely which only confused the Russian "Y/n?"

You placed your hands on the back of her neck and she placed her hands on your hips, pulling you slightly closer. You pulled her into a kiss and instantly slipping your tongue inside her mouth causing a sigh to escape the redhead.

Her hands landed on your ass as she squeezed them but felt something in your back pocket, she frowned as she pulled the plastic out and pulled away from the kiss, staring into your eyes and finally looking down at the thing in her hands.

Her eyes looked up at you so fast as her heart started to beat so fast in her chest "Baby what is this?"

You smiled again but this time you actually spoke "I'm pregnant.."

The smile that you fell in love with, spread so eagerly across Natasha's face "Are you serious?" You nodded as you watch Natasha's eyes fill with tears.

She pulled you into a tight hug as she buried her face in the crook of your neck, you giggled slightly at her reaction, but hugged her back with the same affection.

"Finally, we are a complete family" She spoke against your neck.

"In secret?" You questioned her which she unglued herself from your neck.

She shook her head with a huge smile "No, not anymore, first thing tomorrow we will tell the team but for now I'm going to show you how much this means to me"

Before you could protest against that, she already had you pinned against the couch in the living room, you'll never get over the way she makes you feel.

⸻⸻⋙☸⋘⸻⸻

She was the woman of her word, she woke you up with breakfast and after that, the both of you made your way towards the tower, the team was already waiting as Natasha asked them to meet her there.

They all were pretty anxious to why the Russian wants from them at this hour, when the two of you walked inside, the first person who squeaked without you even saying anything was Wanda.

She run up to you and hugged you tightly but with caution, Natasha raised her brow perfectly at Wanda but shook her head when she understood what just happened. Wanda was your best friend and even if you didn't tell her about your secret relationship with Natasha, she always suspected something but never wanted to invade your privacy.

The team on the other hand were confused and that was very visible, Wanda let you go as Natasha took a deep breath and looked over at you with a small smile, then back at the team "Y/n and I have been in a relationship for the past 4 years"

Wanda squeaked again as the team stared at the both of you with the most dumbfound look anyone could witness, Natasha continued "And we are expecting-"

"What!" Steve stood up and raised his eyebrows as he looked from you to Natasha.

You felt a little shy as you looked at Natasha, she knew Steve had a thing for you, he would always try to ask you out but Natasha always discouraged him so he ended up leaving you alone.

He stood up "The amount of times you told me she wasn’t interested! You never asked her because you been screwing her"

You looked at Wanda who narrowed her eyes at him so you spoke up "What are you talking about?"

He looked at you with a soft gaze "Y/n I have been trying to take you out on a date for couple years"

You narrowed your eyes at Natasha when she looked over which made her look away quickly, you looked back at him "Why did you ask Natasha to do it for you?"

Natasha looked at you confused a little, making him speak up "I tried but when I did, she simply said you never was interested in relationships"

You looked over at her again with a small smile "Well she was right, it was her who I always been interested in.."

Natasha had a smug smile across her lips, he huffed in irritation and walked out, leaving the rest of the team to react opposite to him, they all gathered around, congratulating the two of you, Tony even promised to buy everything for the child which you were very grateful for.

You looked over at Natasha, and hugged into her side as she spoke to her team, you closed your eyes at the sound of her laughter, she landed you a kiss on the forehead, making you look up at her with a smile as her hand rubbed your back.

She was the family you always have wanted...

#natasha romanoff #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha fluff #marvel #reader #the avengers #natasha romanov