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[untilnextchapter]

DIVORCING ORION BLACK | CHAPTER ONE

01 : ARRIVAL

SUM. : you take a familiar villainess' place, but it's all just a dream, right?

TAGS. : son sirius black/mother reader ; son regulus black/mother reader ; marauders fix-it-fic ; transferring into harry potter series (marauders era) au ; reader is a harry potter fan ; but not a JKR fan ; walburga black is no more ; or is she? ; pre-marauders era ; sirius black is an angry child ; regulus black is a precious baby ; big brother sirius being a little jealous ; mentions of child abuse (not explicit) ; orion black can eat dirt ; kreacher is a precious bean ; not canon compliant ; the journey begins! 

LENGTH : 6.3k

1st August 1971

Your eyes snap open to opaque darkness as a silent scream escapes you. Pain. Excruciating and tormenting pain rips your head in two and paralyses the rest of your body. You want to call for help, desperate for relief but words fail you. It’s as if someone had lacerated your throat and ran away with your mangled vocal cords. Overwhelmed by the pressure in your head, you quickly surrender and fall into the mouth of the hungry blackness encompassing you. 

The next time you wake up, you were almost blissfully unaware of the agony you previously awoke to if you weren’t sorely reminded by the lingering compression in your ears, an, almost, unbearable pounding ache in your skull, and the paralysis of your limbs. Your shaky breaths sound amplified in your ringing ears as you slowly regain control of your desensitised appendages but the stabbing sensation against your skull persists. It doesn’t appear to want to dull out unlike most continuous pains. In a desperate effort to mute the throbbing, you curl up into the foetal position and focus on your breathing, your hands clutching at the temporal and parietal areas of your head. After a while, there’s some relief. Sweet relief.

The darkness remains as obscure and daunting as you had first awoken to, a dead, unfeeling space — like a black hole. But it can’t be that. It can’t be a black hole. You hope it isn’t, at least. There has to be a way out of here. 

With great effort and a groan of pain, you get onto your hands and knees, suffering through agonising aches as you feel about the space around you. All the objects you come into contact with are insignificant, too ordinary for your brain to comprehend and speculate over — though the unrelenting throbbing in your skull may be of probable cause to your lack of analysis — it came with one reassuring thought however, their existence was evidence enough that this wasn’t a black hole…

What poor thoughts. 

You’ve never been so vapid. The thoughts swirling in your head were so lacking in cognition and inference that you instinctually shook your head in disappointment. A black hole? Impossible! —Unless you were launched into space in between the meeting with your investors and your journey home. Were you drugged? Taken hostage? If you were then why weren’t your limbs tied up? Eventually, your trembling hands find a wall, a small success that you quickly take advantage of, tracing the perimeter of the boxy room, hoping to find a doorway or vent, anything that could lead you to freedom. You probably look pathetic crawling around but there weren’t any traces of light, even a locked box was more illuminated than this. 

Your rambling thoughts continue, a distraction from the throbbing in your skull, until you feel it. A break in the wall, the border to a door. You didn’t waste any time and ignored all pains to stand and feel out the space for the doorknob, leaning your weight against the wooden entrance to alleviate your weak limbs. Disoriented and brainless — were you terribly hungover or something? More speculations, more unanswered questions but finally a release to freedom! The door relented and gave way as you finally found its handle, pushing down with your weight and tumbling towards freedom. 

The light burned your eyes and made you tear up but the relief of liberty was soothing. The throbbing, stabbing pains in your skull were now replaced by a reeling dizziness and it throws you off balance. But your hand catches the wall to steady you while your other clutches at your head; your disorientation grows and grows. It feels like you were tied to the end of a string and spun around as the length of the string gradually increases, giving the sensation of your mushy brain being stretched out. What in the world have you done to be put through this amount of distress and trauma? 

Curling your fingers into your head, you try to distract from the sickening dizziness with grounding pain and search for repose but are given none. Just as your nails begin to claw at your scalp as your other hand gropes at unfamiliar, drab wallpaper, a voice calls out to you. It’s small and confused, full of light and youth — it’s a child’s voice. 

“Mother?…”

Turning to the hesitant call, you lock eyes with steel grey pools. It’s a little boy. Maybe eight to nine years of age. He has beautiful short black hair, pale skin and angular features but childishly soft cheeks. His formal-like dress and perfect posture makes him look like a little prince. You don’t answer him right away; too distracted with your curious surveillance so he calls to you again with furrowed brows and the same title on his tongue, ‘mother’. 

He was talking to you. Strange…

“Did you just call me ‘mother’?” you ask, he doesn’t answer and you try not to wince, still very light-headed and muddled, “Why?”

“Because you are my mother,” the stare he affixes you with makes it obvious that he thinks you’re a crazy person. No, but he’s the crazy one!

“Are you okay mother?” another, almost identical looking boy walks up and stands beside the first. He, too, has beautiful black hair and pale skin but with much softer features so he must be younger than the first. They wear a similar attire —another little prince. Two little princes, brothers, that view you as their mother. 

But that’s impossible…

The younger of the two has an air of politeness surrounding him as he watches you with empathy swimming in his grey pools. In clear objection to the compassion his younger brother was willing to give you, the eldest child subtly squints at your crumpled and distressed figure. 

“I don’t have children…” your weak voice states but fails to continue, bewildered but confident in the fact although it breaks your heart. It just slipped out and now the two boys were stiff and tense from head to toe. 

Quickly shaking off his rigid limbs, the older brother scowls at you, “as much as we don’t want to be your children, we are!” his tone his biting as he speaks with a snarl, his pristine white teeth bared for defence and attack. With stomping footfalls, the duo run away, fleeing your sight in a blur of blacks, whites and greys. As soon as they’re gone, your dizziness hits you once more, like a boulder to the head, and sends you collapsing into the ground. 

Again, your world goes pitch black. 

2nd August 1971

There’s no spiralling darkness when you next wake up, nor is there an abundance of lamplight to make your eyes tear up, instead, beautiful golden rays of sunlight fall through the tall glass windows behind you. It was a much easier radiance to adjust to. You’re tucked away in bed, silky, comfortable and perfectly warm. Perhaps yesterday was just a dream, a very vivid dream— no, a nightmare. You let out a groan and squeeze your eyes shut. No matter how long it’s been, your thoughts of failure and self hatred over your own incompetence still haunts you. Curling up under the covers, you go through the breathing exercise your therapist imbued into you. 

Acknowledge it, accept it, let it go…

The phrase repeats in your head several times. The longer you rehearse it, the more your limbs unfurl until you’re flat on your back once more. 

…rigid.

Now that you think about it, was your bed always this…stiff?

Blinking in confusion, your eyes focus on the ceiling and widen. You don’t have a chandelier in your bedroom. Your eyes quickly jump down and examine the bed you lay in. This wasn’t your bed, no. Where were your Hedwig and Niffler plushies? Your all-white sheets were gone and replaced by all-black covers. It was then that you finally comprehend the cool sensation laying against your forehead, jolting your body forward, you let out a yelp of surprise as the small soaked towel falls from your brow. 

Your shocked shriek is almost matched by the bawling that accompanies it, drawing your eyes to a being you’ve only seen in movies. The small house-elf stares at you with shaking, blood-shot eyes and unaltered terror folded into his wrinkly expression. Endless apologies fall from his mouth, sincere and all underpinned by intense anxiety. He’s so real; his small, skeletal-like chest rapidly moving up and down due to his desperate pants. His three-dimensional existence quickly falls and kneels before you to commence grovelling, his shaking hands held together in prayer.  

“...Kreacher…” you gape at the house-elf, eyes wide and breath caught in your throat. In disbelief over the elf’s actuality, you reach out for him, awestruck and so dazed that you almost miss how he flinches away from your approaching touch. Apologetic, you retreat your hand and adjust yourself to sit against the headboard before addressing him, “I-I wasn’t going to hit you…”

“Kreacher is needing to be hit, mistress,” the contrite house-elf voices, twiddling his thumbs as he remains knelt down. 

Mistress…?

“Please stand, Kreacher,” you neglect to perceive his surprise in your use of the word ‘please’ as you’re still in awe of him yourself. With a subtle shake of your head, you do your best to push away your astonishment in search of answers, “and fetch me a mirror,” 

Kreacher promptly clicks his fingers and a handheld mirror appears before you. You try not to awe at the demonstration of magic — it's a simple spell in this world — and proceed to take it in your hesitant hands. Judging from what you have been able to gather, Kreacher calling you mistress and the two young boys addressing you as mother…Walburga Black should be the reflection staring back at you. However, you don’t see a black-haired, cold-eyed, pale-skinned woman, with a constant frowning wrinkle on her brow, you see yourself. You touch your face just to make sure you weren’t mistaken. It is you. 

Was this just a vivid dream? It feels so real… 

Mirror set aside, you look back at Kreacher and are astonished once more at seeing just how alive he is. His mannerisms were completely authentic and he was solid from all sides. There’s no mistaking that he’s right in front of you, tangible and no longer fictional. 

What wonders the mind can achieve when you fangirl and nerd out enough over something… But why aren’t you in the Lightening era timeline? And why are you in Walburga’s shoes? Now you’re the mother of Sirius and Regulus Black… The questions don’t stop, nor do the conjectures. Maybe it’s your mind trying to get over your life’s trauma vicariously through your favourite series and fandom… the notionmade some sense. You, not only, have one son but two. Should you feel elated or anxious?

As your thoughts continue, the apologies falling from Kreacher’s lips slowly get louder and louder until you snap out of your spaced-out state. Guilt quickly gathers in your stomach at the realisation that Kreacher had been vocally repentant this whole time and you haven’t yet acknowledged him in the slightest. 

“What are you apologising for, Kreacher?” you finally ask, putting a stop to his penitent speech. 

“Kreacher did not realise mistress had the sickness; Kreacher did not serve her well,” his tone was incredibly apologetic and there was no mistaking the panic in his eyes. 

“...It’s alright Kreacher,” the reassurance in your voice was something the house-elf was not used to and you almost smile at the explicit amazement in his eyes, “I did not know that I was ill, myself, so thank you for taking care of me when I fainted,” your warm smile confuses the house-elf but you continue. Even though this is a dream, you were going to do things right, “it was you who took care of me, correct?” 

His astonishment doesn’t leave his eyes as he nods, slack-jawed and meek, “yes..it was Kreacher, mistress,”

You nod in approval and spot a plate of food in your periphery, set neatly atop the bedside table, “thank you, Kreacher. You are dismissed,” the bashful but, still, misery-stricken house-elf goes to say something, glancing over at the bedside table but you promptly cut him off, “I will eat the food you prepared shortly, thank you, again,”

With a simple nod, Kreacher disappears in a blink and you slowly bring the plate of breakfast onto your lap. Eating in bed, you digest your situation and take in your surroundings. This was all a very realistic dream but a dream nonetheless. And it was a chance for you to, not only do right by the characters you adore but make peace with your past and present. This was a second chance. Even if it was only a dream. 

Just as you finish up your plate of breakfast, you also conclude your examination of the supposed ‘master bedroom’ and frown. The disapproval is clear in your furrowed brows, narrowed eyes and pursed lips.

Whoever designed this room needs to be demoted…or fired. 

The Blacks were such a wealthy family, surely they had more saved up to be able to hire a decent interior designer. The colours blended into each other and no furniture, wallpaper or trinket could bring you any emotion other than despair. With that disappointing thought and a grimace at the, overall, sombre decor of the room, you turn to place your clean plate back on the nightstand when a rolled up piece of paper catches your eye. Innocuously folded and tucked to the left of where your breakfast plate once laid was a newspaper, the Daily Prophet. Hurriedly exchanging your plate and utensils for the paper, your anticipation rose to witness the infamous articles and its moving pictures. You almost couldn’t stop the schoolgirl giggle from escaping your smiling lips. Never before had you been so excited to read the paper. 

Unfolding the pages, you awe at the front cover before quickly skimming the rest of the folio. It’s the real thing and it’s so detailed…even for a dream. 

It was written in clear script on the top, right hand side of the front page. 2nd August 1971. There was no doubt in your mind now that you were just about to enter the Marauders era timeline. If you weren’t mistaken, this was the summer leading up to Sirius’ first year at Hogwarts, which meant that, as his mother — the notion was still abnormal to you but also incredibly heartwarming —, you had a duty to help him fetch his school supplies for Hogwarts. You would also have the honour of seeing him receive his own wand before helping him buy his uniform robes and other necessities. You would even help him pack his bags for Hogwarts, congratulate and celebrate his achievements with him, wish him a good day, support him unconditionally… everything a loving and present mother would do. And, of course, you would treat Regulus the same way. It makes your heart sing and butterflies flutter about in your stomach; you get to be a mother. 

—one moment… 

If the date is correct in the newspaper and you’re right in that Sirius would be attending Hogwarts in a month’s time, then why did he appear one to two years younger than what an eleven-year-old should look like?

Pondering over the question makes you grimace. It’s entirely possible that it could be Walburga and Orion’s doing, Sirius definitely has a defiant manner about him despite only being eleven years of age and it wouldn’t be abnormal to expect the Black couple to be callous towards their own sons, enough to, somehow, stunt their growth. With a click of your tongue and a roll of your eyes, you eagerly move on from the topic and observe the front page more closely only for your breath to stutter and catch in your throat. 

A moving picture of the harrowing dark mark being cast over a house plays in a loop before you. Reading the associated article, you feel your stomach turn in on itself. It was such a disgusting display.

“How cruel…” Your disgust morphs into sorrow as you read over the killings made within the specific house. It belonged to innocent muggleborns and their family members, both magic folk dubbed as blood traitors and their muggle family were massacred. It was clearly an attack meant to bring fear and terror to muggle borns and the pureblooded witches and wizards that dare protect them - all in the name of the dark lord and his bigoted agenda. 

What a load of bullshit.

Not stopping for long, you read interview quotes from blood purists showing their support over the act. Their only reason was that they feared losing their pureblood traditions entirely to muggleborns. The horrific, terroristic happenings all appear to follow after the election of a muggle born Minister of Magic (Nobby Leach), the induction of Dumbledore as the Headmaster of Hogwarts, and then the introduction of Voldemort last year. It’s deplorable that that’s all it takes for blood purists to excuse such radical operations —it’s inhumane. 

“‘The Ministry continues to spare no effort’,” you read under your breath but frown despite the reassuring words, “I bet those Deatheaters get a real ego boost from that statement…” if you remember correctly, Voldemort was enlisting more Deatheaters as well as magical creatures. However, those who are seen as ‘inferior’ were made to suffer, namely Goblins and House-elves. It doesn’t sit well with you. 

The fact that the fantasy world around you — one that you’re an avid fan of — feels so incredibly real, despite it being a dream, suddenly looks very bleak makes your chest tighten. And you quickly find yourself agonising over the lives of many children across the country, both in the muggle and wizarding world, being filled with unhappiness and gloom purely because of the selfish and bigoted adults that are supposed to protect them. 

You click your tongue bitterly. Only a terf could write or imply something so tragic in a supposed children’s book…

Just as you set down the newspaper and lean back against the headboard, Kreacher materialises at your bedside and begins to clear away your plate and paper. You shoot him a smile of thanks that he has a mixed reaction to. Before disappearing, he observes your state once more, dull eyes searching for something. When he returns a moment later, he’s carries with him a slim vial filled with a red, almost-pinkish liquid that contained ascending bubbles. Carbonated? It looked like a normal drink — like a brightly dyed, flavoured tea or sports drink. 

With eyes of fascination, you carefully take the potion vial from Kreacher. You were about to take your first ever magical potion and you plan on savouring every moment of it, even the moments leading up to drinking it. Slowly turning the vial in your hand, you realise that the consistency of the liquid isn’t as light as water; it was a little thicker.

“It’s a healing potion mistress,” Kreacher explains at your bedside, hunched over with his features scrunched up into a permanent scowl, “for the hot fever, mistress,” you give him a small, grateful smile for the explanation. It’s been a while since someone has been proactive when it came to caring for your wellbeing; it made you feel better knowing that Kreacher was around to take care of your needs, disregarding that it was an obligation he couldn’t escape from. Being a successful woman in commerce didn’t mean you were successful in all aspects of life. You still needed to be cared for. This was a welcomed compassion you were going to take full advantage of. 

“Thank you Kreacher,” you swiftly uncork the vial and down the potion like a shot, not expecting it to taste so revolting, “Ugh! That’s horrid!” you cough and feel tears surface. This was supposed to be your dream so why did you come up with something so foul-tasting?! You’ve never tasted anything so disgusting! You can’t even begin to describe the flavour —it’s too foul for words! 

Shaken up by your amplified reaction, Kreacher begins to shake but explains that it’s how all healing potions tasted, “there are other potions with the baddest tastes mistress,” you try to shake away the repulsive flavour but have no such luck and turn to Kreacher with a plea. 

“Water? Please?” with a snap of his fingers, a cool glass of fresh, crisp water appears and you immediately reach out to drink it. The repulsive taste on your tongue dilutes the more you drink but it doesn’t fully lift off your taste buds. Even after drinking the entire tall glass of water, the awful taste of the healing potion lingered — you couldn’t even feel relieved from the feverish headache that left you. 

The healing potion had worked its purpose and you were up and about 12 Grimmauld Place, taking in its dismal but elegant interior, opulent decor and its many rooms. You didn’t know what to expect. It was evident how wealthy the Black Family was in their expensive tastes but that didn’t necessarily translate into aesthetic arrangements. When you watched the movies, it was understandable how dilapidated it was but, despite currently being lived-in, it still looked dull. All rooms appeared the same and began to blend into one another the more you moved around. You still awed at the realistic display of the place, however; it all felt so real, as if your surroundings breathed with life and every ornament, wall and structure had its own individual heartbeat. Just the thought made your heart race. This was once a purely fictional setting and now, your dream brought it to life and you were fully encapsulated - happily so. 

One room that held your attention far better than all other rooms of the house combined was the home library. It was majestic, regal and old — a charming space that you were eager to explore. Its many shelves were lined with an assortment of books, many containing magical knowledge such as light magic and dark magic, which was surprising when considering the Black family’s preference for dark magic. What wasn’t surprising was the amount of books detailing traditional wizard and witch rituals, dates, holidays and more. Purebloods and their need for the maintenance of customs and ceremonies, you couldn’t help rolling your eyes. You expected there to be more books on dark magic but most were on the history of the wizarding world and its many traditions, some of which you had never seen or heard mention of in the Harry Potter book series, movies or games. 

Your mind was very creative and you were quite proud of yourself for it. 

Time passes you as the pages of many books are skimmed by your eyes. You have no idea how much time ticks by as you consume book after book, flicking through pages before being interrupted by a rapid knock at the door succeeded by the entrance to the library being hurriedly pushed open. 

“Mother,” Regulus pants with softly flushed cheeks. His head of curls were a hint messier than the last time you met eyes with him, however, he was still dressed more formally than how a normal ten year old boy should be dressed. It was then, however, that you realised your greatest, influential role — a role that’s far more important than being the head of your company. You’re a mother now. A mother to two gorgeous and darling sons, who deserve all the love in the world. It made tears well up in your eyes. Your subconscious had realised your truest, purist desires and brought it to you in a dream through your beloved fictional characters, ”M-mother?” snapping out of your trance, you realise Regulus had been waiting for you to signal that it was okay for him to speak but hadn’t yet.

“Yes?” Your soft voice appears to catch him off-guard but he’s quick to recover and steel his features.

“I apologise for coming to you late, Mother,” he begins, remaining at the door with his shoulders straight and expression level despite the anxiety for his mistake clearly showing in his eyes. He’s still slightly panting but endeavours to explain himself quickly for your expediency. 

“It’s alright, darling, take your time,” you offer a kind smile that he doesn’t know how to respond to. And, instead of assuring him, you seem to have only made him more fearful. 

“I-I’m terribly sorry, Mother, it was entirely my mistake. It won’t happen again, I swear!” he pleads with tearful eyes and a quivering lip. His small voice raises in volume no matter how much he tries to control it and eventually has to stop talking altogether just so he could gather himself. 

“Regulus, you’ve done nothing wrong,” your words have such a profound effect on him that he stills, completely frozen in time from shock and confusion, “what were you going to say originally, darling?” ‘darling’… the endearment slips you so naturally and it doesn’t even bother you — this really was your heart’s truest desire. 

Regulus takes a few minutes to himself, trying to find his voice and swallowing to wet his gone-dry mouth in order to speak without his voice cracking, which would have an ill demonstration of the Black family’s standing, “I, once again, apologise for my lateness, mother. I did not realise you would be in the family library rather than your study today,” it’s clear he’s still quite flustered from his earlier frantic search for your wandering form as he was still faintly panting under his breath. You raise a gentle hand and, paired with your soft smile, you silently assure him to take his time once more. He appreciates the unusual consideration and leniency from his typically stringent mother, “as per usual, I am here to update you on the progress of my home studies. I’ve read through all the chapters you wanted me to read and had written notes appropriately, complete with summary paragraphs…”

You don’t speak as you observe the sweet boy before you, his shoulder pulled back and chin held squarely as if he was a soldier, a man of rigorous instruction rather than the innocent young boy he was supposed to be. As you stare with an unknown and unfamiliar look in your eyes, Regulus tenses up, slowly backing into the hallway once more. His mother is a woman of few words but would usually hum along in approval to his list of completed tasks — it was a trivial gesture of favour that he eagerly sought after, wanting nothing more than to seek your acceptance. Complete and utter silence could either be dangerous or harmless. The potential risk made the hairs on his arms raise. The poor boy didn’t know what to make of your bizarre mannerisms lately. His heart raced to new heights and his throat felt even more closed up than usual. 

Slowly, you walk up to him and kneel down, love and fondness clear in your gentle eyes. However, it was such a rare emotion for Regulus to see in his mother’s eyes that he tensed up more at the stare, no matter how affectionate and warm. 

It has to be a trap, somehow…   

Your gentle hand reaches up and cups his cherubic cheek, one of the few remaining demonstrations of his youth. Plumper, you need to fill in his cheeks, make them softer and more rounded; you’ll stop at nothing to get them to that state as soon as possible. With your thumb, you lovingly stroke his cheek and smile with all the love welling up in your chest. Your features are soft with the warmth and affection you wanted to convey beyond words. This is the first time Regulus has ever seen his mother look so kind. He’s never seen it before —it looks nice. His mother looks pretty now. He really hopes this isn’t a trap. 

Innate maternal love and instincts overwhelm you. And, after a moment, you take the plunge. You pull him into your arms and embrace his slim, short figure, pressing your face into his hair as you tuck his face into your shoulder. Finally, you have your own son, and you’re going to love him with all your heart. In your mind, you vow to all deities you would care for him like no other, even if in a dream. 

“A dream come true,” you say in a voice dripping with tears. Faintly, you hear Regulus ask for what you mean, muffled from how you have his face buried into your shoulder, “having a son like you, it’s a dream come true…” 

Regulus can’t believe his ears as a warmth spreads through his chest, rapid and, like a blossoming array of wild flowers, it’s accompanied with the purest happiness he’s ever felt in his short life so far. He doesn’t know what to say, speechless from your words, words that he’s never before heard from his mother. He’s wished so many times for such a scenario to come true that he can’t quite believe that it’s happening to him now. 

—BANG!

Sirius stands at the end of the hall, glaring ferociously at the scene happening before him, a bitter emotion consuming his small form at the words he hears and he promptly storms off. But you’re too quick with your lengthier strides and desire to reach him before he goes too far. Without a second thought, you hug the eldest brother to your chest too. You’ve pulled him as close to you as possibly could despite his protests and attempts at pushing you away. 

With a stern voice, you speak up against his thrashing form, “Sirius, do not get aggressive with me,”

“I don’t care!”

“You will care because you’ll end up hurting someone and or yourself one day, if you keep this up!”

Sirius is flooded by shock at your response and he freezes up. His mother never cared whether or not he or anyone else got hurt, so long as they succumbed to her ridiculous demands. He can’t recognise his own mother anymore. Taking full advantage of his paralysed state, your hold turns gentle and you begin to comb your fingers through his inky locks.

“Breathe...” you try to calm him down by gently petting the back of his hair down and occasionally running your nails along his scalp, “talk to me…what’s upset you?” looking up, you see Regulus a metre or two away with a curious look on his face, a mix of amazement, curiosity and caution. Sirius doesn’t respond so you gently prompt him, pulling away to meet his conflicted eyes, “darling?”

Sirius is stunned into silence and doesn’t know what to say, he’s in complete denial over what’s happening – this can’t be his mother, “did you hit your head or something?” he accuses in a snappy tone and you step back, a wave of realisation washing over you. Before this, Sirius and Regulus were pushed around by Walburga daily, abused and tortured in an attempt to conform to her ways. It breaks your heart but also fills you with determination. Even though this is just a dream, you will make the proper changes and treat them kindly. They deserve a loving mother, one who supports them and loves them unconditionally. As you part your lips to voice something, you feel an ominous presence enter the hallway. 

When you look up and over your shoulder, your eyes meet liquid mercury, swirling with anger and paired with the deepest frown. Orion Black approaches from behind you, his footsteps daunting and seeming to echo through the shaking walls of the hallway as he fixes Sirius with a cold glare. His own son, who’s only 11 years old.

“What is going on here?” Orion demands but completely ignores you when you try to explain. Your husband’s focus stubbornly remains on your son, the accusation and wrath in his eyes aggrandised. He continues to bark at Sirius, who looks at the floor in quiet shame and with bitten lips. You know he’s terrified but still tries to appear strong, knowing that if he cried out and showed weakness through pained anger in front of his parents, they would use it as ammunition to berate and abuse him further, “don’t you dare talk to your mother that way again, Sirius!”

Orion raises his wand to punish him but you hurriedly step in the way and tuck Sirius’ face into your stomach. Chin over your shoulder, you meet eyes with your husband andtry to keep from snarling at him lest your true intentions and change of heart come to light and raise red flags, “this is between me and Sirius, I will deal with his punishment myself,”

Sirius doesn’t know whether he should be fearful or relieved. That emotion is so foreign to him, especially when it comes to his mother and talks of punishment. Thankfully, Orion lets the situation go and nods curtly before walking back to his study with a huff, muttering about wasted time on his ‘useless son’ under his breath. 

“My punishment is to eat dinner in my room…” the brothers share a confused look, “usually, it’s to have no dinner and no breakfast…”

“Or worse…” Regulus’ words make them both shiver; a cold chill runs up their spines and inspires dark memories to surface. Un-welcomed, they shake their heads and banish the remembrance.  

Diverting the topic altogether, Sirius picks at his food, “what do you think happened to her?”

“Mother?” Regulus asks and receives a confirming nod, “I don’t know…Kreacher told me–” Sirius pulls a face at the friendship his brother has fostered with the elf, “that mother had a terrible fever yesterday and fainted after we saw her in the hallway,”

Sirius thinks for a moment and chews a little longer than usual, ruminating over the new information, “you think that’s what made her like that?”

Regulus shrugs his small shoulders, “that’s the only thing I could think of…” the youngest brother slowly begins to lose himself in thought, thinking back to when his mother embraced him tenderly and whispered such lovely, affirming words beside his ear. 

‘A dream come true… having a son like you, it’s a dream come true…’

“You like the change?” Sirius snaps his little brother out of his daydream and Regulus flushes in slight embarrassment, avoiding his older brother’s disapproving eyes. Or was that disappointment? Maybe something else?

“She’s much nicer now…”

“It won’t last forever,” Sirius says roughly, bitterness and disbelief evident in his voice as his brows furrow; he doesn’t want to believe that his mother, one of the two people responsible for hurting him and his little brother day in and day out, could have the capacity to change overnight, “you’ll see…”

Regulus doesn’t want to believe his brother but how could he deny such a pragmatic expectation? His older brother is right. It’s unrealistic for him to believe in such a miracle. Nevertheless, there was a troublesome ray of hope that warmed the depths of his chest and clenched around his beating heart with purpose. It was immature to be so optimistic but he can’t help hoping. 

And, he’d never admit it out loud but… Sirius was hopeful too.  

3rd August 1971

You’re astonished at how long this dream has stretched on for. You’ve been able to finish the previous day, fallen asleep beside your husband and rose the next day to have breakfast with your darling boys, served by Kreacher. And now, you’re happily immersing yourself in the home library once more. 

Amazed, you consume the contents of the book in your hand, you’ve never come across such information in the Harry Potter books, movies or games. It’s so novel! You feel bubbling excitement rise from deep within you, enchanted and equally awestruck from your imagination, even in sleep. You should be a fanfiction writer! 

“I can’t believe how detailed and long this dream is continuing on for…” you mutter to yourself, beginning to smile at your luck before you’re harshly interrupted.  

“This isn’t a dream you insufferable muggle!” a shrieking shrill scream echoes in your head and makes you wince. In a weak attempt at soothing the ache, you grasp at your temple with a hand. The throbbing discomfort the voice induces is equivalent to the same pain you experienced when you first woke up in that pitch black room, only, not as intense. The memory makes you wince even more and you wonder if the increase of pain was a type of phantom hurt brought on by your own thoughts.

“Wh-wha-?” you do your best to collect yourself but the wailing voice is unrelenting and perpetuates the pounding in your head. 

“To hell with that ritual! What. Happened?! This wasn’t supposed to be the result! Explain yourself, you filthy muggle woman! HOW DARE YOU TAKE MY PLACE!”

With staggering realisation, all the pieces click together in your head and you’re stunned into silence as the raging voice of the villainess woman continues to demand answers in your head. Her voice is piercing but is dulled out by your curiosity and rising triumph. 

“You’re saying this is real?...”

“Yes! You Filthy Muggle! Whatever you’ve done, reverse it now and allow me to return to my place!”

“...No,” your firm voice counters, a slow smirk gradually tugging at your lips. She goes silent, probably speechless at the audacity a ‘muggle’ has to disobey her demands, “I’m staying,” you threaten, “and I’m going to do right by your sons by giving them the life and mother they deserve—”

“You will do no such thing!” Walburga shouts once more in your head; this time, you don’t mind the throbbing pain it induces, “They are my sons and they—!”

“Not anymore bitch,” you grin deviously, “they’re my sons now,”  

A/N : this is my attempt at a fix it fic inspired by one of my favourite genres in webtoons etc - reincarnation/isekai/time travel do-overs, wish me luck! i hope i do a good job! ALSO! I'd like to express a special thank you to my dearest friend @thebestofoneshots for being such a darling and taking time out of her day to beta-read this first chapter for me, she's been such a sweetheart and was the one who helped motivate me to finish the first chapter! i don't think i would have been able to post this first chapter without her. i love you so much my darling! please go and support her by reading her work, commenting and reblog her work too! she deserves all the love in the world! and she writes so beautifully too! you won't regret it!

NAVI. | SERIES MASTERLIST

TAGLIST : @melinajenkins @aastonishment @until-i-found-you @corp0real @celestcies @lovelydoveval @inlovewithremusjohnlupin @calums-betch @futurecorps3 @hihihi1112 @simpingforthe80s @yrluvjane @chaosofmanyfandoms @storyofaromance @loving-and-dreaming @somewereinthegalaxi @ashreblogsficshere @cassandra-nerezza-black @stray-bi-kids @ttkttt @notasadgirlipromise @desikudisworld @volturissideslut @arilxup88

SERIES TAGLIST OPEN

#kquil #harry potter x reader #hp x reader #marauders x reader #isekai #fix it fic #ooooooooh my f*cking god #it was so addictive #i need more #like really #it was perfect #thank you for writing this #sirius black #regulus black

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heyy ok so I have this idea with maybe remus lupin or any smart character but your the writer whatever you think best is probably best, anyways so reader is failing a class and is assigned a tutor which would be the character. Anyways character is very in love with the reader and is nervous/flustered  but the reader is more outgoing/flirtyafter a couple lessons at the end the character asked “anymore questions?” And the reader goes “yeah when are you going to ask me out? ”KINDA CRINGE LOOKING BACK BUT TYSM BYE 💜💜💜💜

- submitted by @they-only-want-you-when-your-17

——–

this is sooo cute! I loved it too much, love! I hope you like it too! 😊Warnings: none, this is pure fluffDisclaimer: I don’t own Harry Potter 😊 gif isn’t mine 😊

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Ask Me Out?

You hated Potions. Not just because it was your earliest class and you weren’t a morning person. But because you were absolutely dreadful at it. You insisted it wasn’t your fault. It was your partner’s. When Professor Slughorn decided to make Remus Lupin your partner, you knew it would be useless. 

You were never able to concentrate with him sitting next to you. Maybe it was because he started wearing his hair differently this year. Or because he smelled stupidly good. Or how shy he got whenever he was around you. Or because he had the most beautiful smile you had ever seen. Or because his friends and your friends kept making stupid faces at you so you would make the first move. 

Things got so bad, that Professor Slughorn suggested you got someone to tutor you for this class, and, much to your luck, Remus had volunteered himself to be said tutor. So, not only did you have to control yourself in his class, but now you were spending two afternoons a week with Remus at the Library or the Common Room, trying to listen to what he actually said, instead of getting lost in his beautiful smile. 

“Are you listening to me?” Remus asked, suddenly snapping you out of your thoughts. 

“I uh-” you said, sitting straight instead of resting your head on your hand. “Y-yes, of course, I was, Rem” you cleared your throat. 

“Really?” Remus asked with a beautiful smirk. “Then what is the last ingredient you have to add to the Draught of Living Death before you stir it anti-clockwise?” 

“Oh, uh- w-well, the um… the bean?” you tried with a small smile. 

“Which bean?” 

“I’m guessing not Bertie Bott’s beans?” 

Afficher davantage

#once-upon-an-imagine #harry potter x reader #hp x reader #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin #marauders era #marauders x reader #puppy power #young remus is the sweetest #really

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please write for tmr!thomas i beg of you

tmr!thomas x reader | established relationship, fluff and hurt/comfort, 1k words (set in the scorch trials!)

you, thomas and your friends find sanctuary from the scorch with the right arm. unfortunately, they don’t provide any sanctuary from nightmares.

“Are you awake?”

Thomas feels you shift under his arm. You’re curled into his side, arm slung over his chest and thigh pressed to his. He hums.

“Yeah, I’m awake,” he murmurs back. “What’s up?”

He feels your hand glide across his stomach and your fingers curl around his hip. It makes him shiver.

“Nothing,” you hum. “Just thinking.”

Thomas huffs. Typical you, keeping yourself awake for no good reason. “Stop thinking and go to sleep then, sweetheart. You need rest.”

You muffle a giggle in his shirt. It warms his chest all the way through. “You’re mean.”

“And you’re keeping me up,” Thomas says back, only half serious. “Go to sleep.”

Eventually you do as he says. These days Thomas always always has waits for you to fall asleep first before letting himself drift off. It makes him feel better about himself. He does everything in his power to make sure you’re safe and healthy and happy, but it’s hard when you’re on your own in a sick world, running from a government organisation that wants you for your blood.

The Scorch has been unforgiving, but you’ve braved through like you always do, never once complaining, always making sure the rest of the group are okay. Thomas thinks someone as lovely as you doesn’t deserve to live in a world like this. It’s half the reason he’s as determined as he is the find somewhere safe.

Well, you’ve found sanctuary for now, at least, with the Right Arm. You and Thomas are sharing a tent with the rest of the group — Minho, Newt, Frypan — none of whom seem to be willing to seperate from each other, despite the spare tents the Right Arm offers. It speaks volumes about where the real safety net is.

Eventually Thomas falls asleep too. He’s not sure how long he sleeps until he’s woken by you. You don’t mean to wake him, he thinks, but he’s a bad sleeper at the best of times, and he’s got a sixth sense for this kind of thing, anyway.

He blinks his eyes open sluggishly. It’s dark, but the campfire still flickers outside the tent, so he can just make out your figure. You’re sitting up straight, stiff as a board. Panic slices through his heart like a cold knife.

“Y/N?” He murmurs. He finds your thigh under the sleeping bag you’re sharing and braces his hand on it to help him sit up. “Baby, are you okay?”

Thomas’ eyes slowly adjust to the light until he realises, with a pang in his chest, that you’re crying. Thankfully, you don’t seem to be in any immediate danger. Everyone else is still fast asleep, and everything’s quiet outside the tent. Still, he doesn’t like the way your shoulders are shaking.

“Sorry,” you gasp. You’re holding your face in two clammy hands, fingers cruel where you scrub at your tears. “Didn’t mean to wake you. I just—“

“Bad dream?” Thomas asks gently. He can guess well enough. He’s had his fair share, and while he’s not an expert on the human mind or anything, he can see that you’re pretty shaken up.

You nod. Tears splash down your front. “Yeah,” you mumble. “Sorry.”

Thomas frowns at you as he brings his hand to your shoulder.

“Stop apologising,” he says, squeezing you gently. His drags his thumb across your collarbone, soothing. He doesnt want to think about what you’d’ve done if he hadn’t woken up. Would you have suffered all by yourself? The thought alone feels like a bullet to his heart. “It’s okay, babe, really. Can I give you a hug?”

You nod viciously. Thomas makes a pitying sound from deep in his chest and wraps you up in a hug, sliding his hand to the nape of your neck to encourage your head over his shoulder. You’re shaking like a leaf, your cheek damp and warm where it presses to his neck.

“You’re okay,” he murmurs to you. It’s all he can say, really. He can’t tell you it wasn’t real, because the chances that you had dreamed about something very real, and equally horrifying, are high. He strokes your hair, feeling a little useless but a lot sorry. “I’ve got you.”

Somebody stirs across the tent. Thomas watches over your shoulder as that somebody sits up.

“Thomas?” It’s Newt. His voice is raspy with sleep but he sounds concerned. “Is everything okay?”

Thomas feels something akin to a rush of gratitude for his empathetic friend. If anything was ever to happen to Thomas, he at least knows for certain Newt would take care of you.

“Yeah, Newt,” he says. “Everything’s fine. We’re good. Just a nightmare, I’ve got it.”

Newt hums and his lanky figure drops back to the tent floor. Meanwhile you’re sniffling over Thomas’ shoulder, your hands screwed into the back of his shirt.

Thomas can’t be sure if Newt’s still awake, but he doesn’t really care if his friend hears him or not. He’s past being embarrassed about how much he cares for you. Thomas draws back and takes your face in his hands.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asks you.

“Not really,” you whisper back. Your anguished tone breaks Thomas’ heart clean in two.

“Okay. That’s alright,” Thomas tells you, as kind as he can when he’s up to his ears with worry. He swipes his thumbs over your cheeks, rubbing away your hot tears. He gives you a reassuring smile. “Do you want some water?”

You nod. Thomas reaches behind him to pull his metal flask from a meagre pile of supplies. He unscrews the lid and encourages the bottle into your hands.

“Here, babe,” he says softly. “It’ll help.”

He steadies your shaking hands with his own and helps you have a few gulps of water. When he returns the bottle to it’s place you’ve calmed significantly. Your cheeks are still damp and sticky but your tears have ebbed, at least.

Thomas smiles at you. He’s sure he looks sick with concern but he tries not to let it show, thumbing your cheek with as much tenderness as he can manage. “Let’s lie down, yeah? C’mon, sweetheart.”

He tugs you down with him. You slump onto his chest and push your hand under his shirt. You’re really warm, but it gives him goosebumps anyway.

“You’re safe with me,” he promises. It’s a promise he doesn’t plan on breaking, ever. He rubs your back. Big, rough sweeps that have you going lax in his arms almost instantaneously. “I’ve got you, sweetheart. I promise.”

-

thank you for reading! please consider reblogging if you enjoyed, and feel free to send more reqs for thomas!

#bruisedboys #the maze runner #the maze runner x reader #tmr thomas #tmr!thomas #tmr!thomas x reader #it was so sweet #i watched tmr yesterday and i miss some good fanfics about it

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BBC Merlin x Reader - My Startled Stoat

Fandom: BBC Merlin

Pairing: Merlin x Reader

Summary: So, I came across this meme thing on Insta comparing pics of Merlin against stoats and the resemblance was uncanny. And then there was a comment about imagine if there was an episode where Merlin turned himself into a stoat by accident and Gwen and Gaius had to hurry to turn him back. And I said challenge accepted…

——

Merlin would’ve sighed if he could. This wasn’t exactly the result that he had intended. What was he going to do? He certainly couldn’t stay like this…

His ears perked up at the sound of a familiar voice.

“Merlin!” You called out as you walked through the part of the woods that the court physician had sent him to, “Gaius said that he sent you to gather herbs and that you were to return hours ago. Where are you?”

You stumbled as you trod over something, causing you to look down. A basket full of herbs and Merlin’s boots…along with all of Merlin’s clothes. Well, at least you were in the right place. But where on earth was Merlin?

“Merlin?” you called out again, looking around for him.

The sound of rustling cloth drew your attention back down and you got the shock of your life when a stoat popped out of neckline of Merlin’s shirt. The animal scuttled forward and came to a stop in front of you. You blinked down at it, eyebrow raised at the unusually tame behaviour. There was also something about the colouring that struck you. The creamy underbelly and dark brunette fur, coupled along with the eyes. The stoat possessed the most brilliant blue eyes that you had ever seen. You knew those eyes. They were just like -

Wait. No…

Slowly, you lowered yourself down onto one knee, peering closer at the stoat’s face.

“Merlin?” your voice had taken on an incredulous tone.

The stoat bounded forward, placed its paws on your knee and nodded. Your eyebrows nearly shot right off your forehead as you slapped a hand over your mouth.

“Oh my god…”

——

“GAIUS!” you called out as you came charging through the door, basket of herbs in one hand and Merlin’s clothes in the other, “Gaius, help!”

The physician hurried over towards you, worry etched into his face, “What’s wrong? Where’s Merlin?”

You set the clothes and boots down on the bench before placing the basket on the table and reaching inside to thrust the stoat-Merlin in front of you.

“Here.”

Gaius raised his eyebrows, looking back and forth between you and Merlin a couple of times before meeting your eyes. It was only when you nodded firmly, lips pressed together in a straight line that Gaius realised that you weren’t joking.

“Oh, my…quite the predicament.” Gaius remarked with a weary sigh.

You set Merlin down on the table with care before turning back to Gaius.

“What are we going to do?”

Gaius sighed again as he folded is arms across his chest.

“Find some way to undo what has been done, I suppose.” Gaius shot the stoat a disapproving look, “At the very least, I hope that this will be a memorable lesson as to why magic should be practiced with caution.”

Stoat-Merlin had the good grace to bow his head and look ashamed. Gaius pursed his lips before turning his attention back to you.

“I have a few patients to tend to before I can go to the library to see if there’s a book that can help us find a way to turn Merlin back. In the meantime, I suggest looking in the grimoire I passed down to Merlin. No doubt that whatever mischief he’s gotten himself into now came from there.”

You nodded and watched Gaius leave, turning to Merlin once the door was shut.

“Well? Where do you keep this grimoire?”

Merlin bounded to the other end of the table, rearing up on his hind legs to look pointedly at his bedroom door before looking back at you.

“I see…” you pressed your lips together before swallowing, “Let’s go.”

You picked Merlin up off the table before making your way up the stairs. Merlin squirmed out of your arms, paws scrabbling across the floorboards as you hesitated in the doorway. You had never been in Merlin’s room before, let alone the room of any man, for that matter. Just the idea of being in Merlin’s room felt strangely intimate. But what other choice did you have? You exhaled as you crossed the threshold.

“Where do you keep it, Merlin?”

Stoat-Merlin circled around a certain spot, making a scratching sound as he pawed at the floor.

“Hmm…” you hummed as you knelt down, tapping on the wood.

The hollow echo had you raising your eyebrows.

“Right.”

You pressed at the boards, eventually working out how to prise up the lid to the hidden compartment. You set it aside before reaching down to take out what could only be the grimoire wrapped in a linen cloth.

“You really are full of secrets, Merlin.” you murmured as the book was revealed before your eyes.

You moved to sit on the edge of Merlin’s bed, book resting in your lap as you flicked through the pages. Stoat-Merlin moved across the bedsheets in a jittery manner, almost circling you. It must be so frustrating for poor Merlin…he probably knew exactly what page and spell you needed to be looking at, but had no way of being able to communicate that to you. After a few moments you paused in your turning of the pages, sighing in frustration.

“I’m afraid I’m not of much use…I don’t know what I’m meant to be looking for, let alone where to start.”

Stoat-Merlin blinked up at you with his wide blue eyes before nudging your hand with his head. You smiled at the gesture, it was almost as if he were trying to encourage you. You and Merlin continued to stare at each other for a few minutes before you spared a glance at the book only to look back at him.

“Did you want to give it a try? See if you could do a little…you know.”

You wiggled your fingers back and forth between your eyes and the grimoire in a poor imitation of Merlin using his magic. Stoat-Merlin blinked and you weren’t sure whether or not he was thinking about how much of an idiot you were. Stoat-Merlin soon turned his gaze to the book lying open in your lap and continued to surprise you when his eyes suddenly went from blue to gold. You jumped as the pages started to move, almost as if an unseen hand was flicking through them furiously. When the pages finally settled, your sent Merlin a sidelong glance of approval.

“Good job, Merlin.” you smiled as you scratched the top of his head, just behind his ears.

Your smile widened as you watched the stoat close his eyes, seeming to be thoroughly loving the attention. The moment was short-lived when his blue eyes snapped open and he tried to shake his head away. You laughed as you withdrew your hand, more than certain that Merlin was doing the stoat equivalent of pouting.

“Sorry…now, let’s see where it all went wrong…” you murmured as you inspected the spells in front of you, “Oh, look! These pages are stuck together. Guess that’s probably why…oh.”

You trailed off as you leaned closer to inspect the mix up, “Oh, dear…interesting little pickle you’ve gotten yourself into, Merlin.”

You sighed at the forlorn look those blue eyes were giving you.

“Come along, then. Let’s see what we can do about it.” you stood with the grimoire and made your way down to Gaius’ work station, Merlin’s stoat body bounding along behind you.

—

You were crushing up the ingredients needed for the reversal potion with a mortar and pestle when the unmistakable sound of a disgruntled prince roaring Merlin’s name sounded down the hall. You froze as you locked eyes with Merlin, panic radiating off the both of you. Of all the times for Arthur to come looking for his manservant…

Abandoning the task at hand, you scooped up Stoat-Merlin and circled the spot where you stood, desperate for somewhere to hide him. In your panic, you decided to hide him in the first place that came to mind. But not before apologising for what you were about to do. You held up Stoat-Merlin to your face, looking him in the eye.

“I’m so sorry.”

And with that sincere apology, you proceeded to shove Stoat-Merlin down the neckline of your bodice. You froze as Prince Arthur threw the door open, clasping your hands together behind your back. Thankfully, Stoat-Merlin had stilled beneath your clothes. You were however, very aware of the heavy thump of his heart as it beat in his tiny furry body against your breastbone.

“Your Highness.” you greeted the prince with a slight bow.

You did a subtle shuffle as you straightened, praying that your upright body was enough to hide the grimoire lying open on the table behind you.

“Have you seen Merlin?”

“No, sire,” you lied blatantly, “I’m looking for him myself.”

“Where is he?”

“Out running errands with Gaius, I suppose. Shall I tell him that you’re looking for him when he returns?”

“Yes, and when you see him, tell to report to me immediately.”

“Of course, sire.”

You bow in farewell as the prince leaves, sighing in relief when the door shuts behind him. You gasp at the feeling of Stoat-Merlin squirming against you, reaching a hand into your clothes to pull him out.

“I’m so sorry!”

Stoat-Merlin has his head in his paws, unable to look you in the eye. You on the other hand, look at him with desperation; your cheeks aflame with embarrassment.

“I’m so sorry, Merlin! But we couldn’t risk Arthur seeing you in this state and…and I panicked…” you wrung your hands together, cheeks flushing scarlet, “at least I didn’t tell him you were at the tavern…”

Merlin’s paws dropped to his sides and he scuttled over to stand beside the motar and pestle, eager to get this over with. You pressed your hands over your face as you took a breath, willing the heat to dissipate from your face before striding over. You followed the last of the instructions; scooping out a spoonful of the paste into a bowl. You carefully measured out the correct amount of water before stirring it all together, the paste soon turning into a bittersweet smelling soup.

“Bottoms up, Merlin.” you grimaced as you slid the bowl over in his direction, hoping for his sake that the potion would taste better than it smelled.

Stoat-Merlin lapped up as much as he could before bounding over to you. You scooped him up, holding him close as you leaned over the book. You had thought it best that you be the one to read the spell out loud, seeing as stoats couldn’t talk. Hopefully if Merlin read the incantation as you said it, that would be enough to undo the mess of a spell he had made.

You didn’t notice the glow in his eyes as you read the spell, but what you couldn’t ignore was the loud, smoky explosion that happened immediately after. A yelp left your mouth as the force of it knocked you to the ground. Oh, god…the spell had gone wrong, horribly wrong. You felt heavy and pinned down, and you wouldn’t know the extent of your predicament until this confounded smoke cleared up… “Oh.”

It was the only sound you could make as you found yourself face to face with a very human, very naked Merlin. You kept your eyes locked onto his and refused to let them wander as your hands found his shoulders. “The spell worked…?” “Yes.” Merlin’s voice sounded deeper than you were used to, it made your heart skip a beat. You didn’t say another word as you pressed your hands over your face to give Merlin privacy. You felt his body leave yours and heard the sound of his clothes rustling as he got dressed. It was only when Merlin pried your hands away that you dared to open your eyes. “Are you hurt?” Merlin asked as he pulled you to your feet. “N-no.” An awkward silence hung in the room as you and Merlin struggled to hold each other’s gaze, both desperate to break the silence but not knowing what to say. You thanked your stars when Gaius walked in, grateful for the interruption. For the rest of the day, despite your best efforts, your thoughts continued to be plagued with thoughts of blue eyes and crushed velvet.

#mentality-project #bbc merlin x reader #merlin x reader #bbc merlin #merlin bbc #merlin #it was so sweet #i loved the plot #and the original meme #so accurate #oops #keep on with this great job

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aren’t you full of surprises // charlie weasley

Summary: Charlie Weasley cannot possibly be your soulmate: he’s got nothing to do with dragons

Request: Hiya love, can I request a soulmate au with Charlie weasley?? Something about a little symbol on their body which represents their soulmate and Charlie’s soulmates is a little dragon which he sees after a quidditch match or something?! Thank you!!

A/N: I really love Charlie oml – this is mostly based on the books and stuff &&&& I included tonks bc I love her and she’s in the same year so made it easy +++ s/o to anon who told me Sam Heughan was a good fan cast bc you were right and he’s perfect :))))

Reader: unspecified

Warnings: swearing I suppose, making out ;)

Afficher davantage

#writesowhatnext #harry potter x reader #hp x reader #charlie weasley #charlie weasley x reader #hello there #it was do sweet #tonks rocks btw #we all need a tonks in our life

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Man On a Wire

A/N: somehow this worked again I really hope you loves like this!

Request - Anonymous asked: For a dialogue, how about Remus thinking you like Sirius so when you ask him to a library date he thinks it's a prank or to make Sirius jealous and he says no. Remus then finds out you were talking with Sirius about him and apologizes.

Warnings: insecurities on Remus' part, making him be a biiit of an asshole, but I think that's it! let me know if I missed anything, also is like 2am here and this is not proofread

Disclaimer: I don’t own Harry Potter :) gif isn’t mine :D  

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

Man On a Wire

I feel like I'm walkin' on a tight road My heart is in my throat, I'm counting on high hopes to get me over you

You kept walking back and forth in front of the Quidditch Pitch.

“You need to calm down, love. It’s only a question” Alice tried to reassure you.

“B-but what if he says no?” you asked, feeling anxious.

“He’s not gonna say no” she insisted.

“You don’t know that. There might be a million reasons why he would say no” you said, making your best friend glare at you. “O-okay maybe not a million but… a f-few” you shrugged.

“Hey, ladies” you heard Sirius approaching and landing next to the two of you. “What are you still doing here? We’re gonna be done in a few minutes” he said looking at you.

“She’s second-guessing herself” Alice told him.

“C’mon, love. We’ve been through this. I’ve told you a million times. I know first-hand, Remus is basically in love with you-” Sirius said, rolling his eyes.

“L-love? You never said anything about love, Black!”

“I didn’t think I needed to. He looks at you worse than Prongs looks at Lily or Frank looks at this one” he said, pointing at Alice.

“Hey, don’t drag Frank into this” Alice glared at him.

“My point is, it’s time you both just stop being stupid and get together” he simply said.

“But what if he says no?”

“Why would he say no?”

“I don’t know!”

“He’s not gonna say no, okay? So, just, go up there and we’ll be out here waiting for you two idiots to come out holding hands and we can go to dinner” Sirius said before he started pushing you towards the bleachers, where Remus was sitting.

“Okay, okay, I’m going!” you said, looking at your best friends one last time and taking a deep breath.

You started climbing up the empty stairs and walked over to one of the highest bleachers where you knew Remus always read while he waited for his friends to be done with practice. Not that you knew his every move you just… noticed. You felt your heart beating faster when you spotted him. He was so enthrallingly handsome, it was ridiculous. You always heard girls talking about how stunning Sirius was and, you didn’t disagree, Sirius was very attractive. But Remus’ beauty was completely different. It was hypnotizing. Which is why you were extremely worried about asking him out.

You gripped your books to your chest a bit tighter and made your way over to his spot. He was so concentrated on his book that his tongue was sticking out a little and he was resting his head on his right hand as he read. You cleared your throat a little, getting his attention and making him look up at you.

“Um… h-hello, Remus” you smiled, nervously.

“Hi” he smiled back at you.

“I am sorry to um b-bother you” you started. “Uh, is it okay if I join you?”

“Oh, yeah, sure” he said, getting up and scootching a little to make room for you. How were you not supposed to fall in love with this man?

“Um, th-thank you” you said, placing your bag on the floor and taking your books out. “So, um… what are you reading?”

“Oh” he said, marking the page on his book. “Um, I’m reading A Murder is Announced” he said, showing it to you. “Have you read it?”

“Oh, yes, I read this last year. It’s a really good book. Are you enjoying it?”

“I am” he nodded. “So, what brings you to the Quidditch Pitch today?” he asked, all of the sudden.

“Oh, w-well, there’s a match on Friday” you said. “... right?”

“Right” he smiled. “Are you planning on coming to the match?”

“W-well, I don’t know. I’m not much of a Quidditch fan, as you know” you said, feeling your cheeks burn. “S-so, I thought maybe if I watch them practice I might understand it a little bit better?” you said, nervously.

“Why the sudden interest?” he asked, curiously.

“Um, I don’t know” you said, nervously running a hand through your hair. “It’s our last year, so… I promised myself to try new things” you smiled wearily. “So, um… do you think you can explain some of it for me?”

“Um… sure” he said, putting his book down. “I mean, I’m not the best myself but I did read Quidditch Through the Ages” he said, making you laugh a little. “So, Prongs is the captain” he said, pointing at his friend. “He, Sirius, and Kurt are Chasers. So, they have to get the Quaffle through the hoops” he instructed.

“Okay, that doesn’t seem that complicated” you said.

“Right, but it’s the Beater’s job to throw the Bludgers at them and prevent them to do so” he told you. “Fabian and Gideon are really good. But, we’re playing Ravenclaw on Friday and their Beaters are quite ruthless” he explained.

“So, I take it you’re coming to the match on Friday?”

“I am” he nodded. “I never miss a Gryffindor match” he smiled.

“Oh, Merlin! Look at him! He looks even better with his hair like that” you heard a group of girls a few steps down and to your right. They were ogling and sighing over Sirius, who wasn’t as far, brushing his sweaty hair with his hand.

“Ugh, I know! He’s stupidly handsome” another one giggled.

“So… Sirius has his own cheerleading section?” you chuckled.

“Yeah, he kind of does” Remus told you as Sirius made his way over to the group of girls in his broom.

“Hello, ladies” he said, flashing his signature handsome smirk at them, making them giggle and they all started complimenting him.

When he spotted you, he quickly sent a wink your way. You failed to see Remus rolling his eyes as he started putting his stuff in his bag, which is why he failed to see Sirius widening his eyes at you before pointing at Remus hinting that you needed to ask him. You sighed, rolling your eyes, and took a deep breath one more time.

“Um, R-Remus?”

“Yes?” he asked, looking back at you.

“Um, w-well, I was um…” you stuttered nervously. “C-could I ask you something?”

“Sure” he said, turning to look at you.

He noticed you were nervously playing with your hands before you looked at Sirius one last time and then you finally faced him. He prepared himself to hear you ramble on about how much in love with Sirius you were and if he could help you fix a date with him or something.

“W-well, I was w-wondering if, uh-” you said, again. “If you’re not busy on F-Friday, um… m-maybe you’d like to um…” you stammered. “G-go with me to the Library to study, b-before the match?” you managed to finally spit out. You felt your heartbeat increase as you waited for your answer.

“What?” Remus frowned.

“O-or if you’re busy we can c-come to the match?” you tried, smiling nervously. “O-or I b-believe it’s a Hogsmeade weekend-”

“What’s your angle?” he asked you all of the sudden, taking you by surprise.

“Um… a-angle?”

“Honestly, if you want to go out with Sirius, just ask him” he said, standing up and grabbing his bag.

“Sirius? W-what are you talking about-?”

“You know, a lot of girls have asked me what’s the best way to ask him out but none of them have sunk so low to the point of pretending that you would like to spend with me to get closer to him-”

“That’s not what I was-” you tried to explain, getting up yourself.

“What is it then? Are you trying to make him jealous or something?”

“What? No! Remus, I don’t-”

“You know what? No, thank you. I honestly have better things to do than to spend a day with you talking about Sirius” he said before walking away, leaving you standing there, mouth opened, dumbfounded. You didn’t even hear the last things he said. The only words ringing in your ears were ‘No, thank you. I honestly have better things to do than to spend a day with you.’

Your eyes kept looking at him as he climbed down the stairs and you saw the group of girls that were looking at Sirius. They all looked at you with sorrow in their eyes. They felt sorry for you. You had just been rejected in front of them. You felt your eyes starting to water as you saw Alice running towards you.

“Hey, what happened? I just saw Remus leaving-”

“He said no” you silently said as a few tears ran down your cheeks.

“What? Why?”

“He said he- um” you tried to explain to your friend as she sat you down. “He thought I was asking him out b-because I wanted to get closer to Sirius” you said.

“What? That’s ridiculous! Why would he think that?”

“I don’t know” you said. “I tried to tell him that wasn’t the case b-but he didn’t let me explain and he left” you finished, crying a little harder.

“Hey” Sirius said, flying over to the two of you. “What happened? Why are you crying?”

“Remus said no” Alice informed him as she hugged you.

“What? Why?”

“He thought she was only asking him because she wanted to ask you out” Alice explained.

“He said that?” Sirius asked you and you slowly nodded. “I’m gonna bloody kill him” he muttered under his breath. “Look, love, I’ll talk to him, okay?”

“N-no, it’s okay” you said, trying to stop more tears from falling. “I d-don’t think Remus likes me that way anyways” you said, sadly.

“Don’t say that, love” Alice insisted. “Let’s just go to dinner and we can talk things through” she suggested.

“I’m not hungry” you said, pulling away and grabbing your things. “You guys should go” you smiled sadly at them. “I think I’m just gonna go to my dorm” you told them, eying the group of girls who were now leaving.

“No, we can talk to Remus-”

“Go and rest, okay? I’ll bring you something” Alice interrupted Sirius.

“Thanks guys” you smiled weakly at them. “I’ll see you tomorrow” you said before making your way out.

“Bye, love” Sirius said before turning to Alice. “I’m going to kill Remus” he repeated.

“If you don’t, I will” she replied.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

“What the bloody hell is your problem?” Sirius asked when he burst into his dorm.

Remus was reading a book, James was coming out of the shower, and Peter was just sitting there waiting for everyone to get ready so they could go to dinner.

“Which one of us are you talking to, Pads?” James asked, confused.

“Why don’t you ask your stupid friend Moony” Sirius said, glaring at him.

“What are you talking about?” Remus frowned confused.

“Oh, you’re going to play dumb? So we’re just going to pretend that nothing happened back in the Quidditch Pitch and you didn’t make anyone cry?”

“What?” James and Peter asked at the same time.

“Again, what are you talking about? Nobody cried” Remus said, closing his book and getting up.

“Really? Are you sure about that, Moony? Are you really sure?”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, Padfoot. You have no idea what happened!”

“Oh, really? So, you didn’t reject her when she asked you out?”

“What? Who asked you out?” James asked, interested.

“Nobody-”

“Nobody? Really? The girl that you have practically been in love with for years is now nobody?”

“What? She asked you out?” Peter asked.

“You said no?” James asked, extremely confused.

“She didn’t ask me out, okay? She was only asking to spend time with me to get closer to you!”

“What?” James and Peter asked again. “That doesn’t make any sense!” James said.

“Yeah, what are you talking about, mate?” Peter asked.

“Why the fuck would she want to get closer to me? We’re friends!”

“Because she’s in love with you, just like every other girl in this stupid school is, apparently!” Remus snapped.

“You see? You see how stupid your friend is?” Sirius told James.

“Stop talking to me as if I’m not here! And stop calling me stupid!”

“Mate, you are stupid! You truly are if you think she was only asking you out to get closer to Sirius!” James told him.

“Shut up! I saw the way that she was looking at him! You winked at her, and all of the sudden she’s interested in Quidditch and she wants to go to the match on Friday, and I’m supposed to believe she doesn’t fancy you?”

“Mate, I highly doubt she’s interested in Quidditch” Peter laughed.

“Yeah, she’s as interested in Quidditch as she is in Padfoot” James added.

“Moons, I winked at her because I knew she was nervous about asking you out. See, it was actually the other way around. She came to me and asked me how she could ask you out” he explained.

“W-what?” Remus asked, feeling terrible.

“Do you honestly not know how much in love with you she is?” Peter asked, confused.

“Yeah, she’s always looking at you, mate” James told him.

“She’s n-not” he insisted, trying to convince himself that he hadn’t just turned you down and that you were not in love with him. “She likes Padfoot. She’s always with him-!”

“Yeah, talking about you, you idiot!” Sirius told him. “She’s always asking what your favorite books are, what movies do you like, and what would be the best way to ask you out! And when she finally got the courage to do it, you said no” he explained.

“Holy shit” Remus muttered to himself, plopping on his bed again. “I am so stupid” he stated.

“Yes, that’s what I’ve been trying to tell you, mate” Sirius said, sitting next to him. “So, what are you going to do?”

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

Throughout the next few days, Remus tried endlessly to find you so he could apologize but it was useless. You were avoiding him like the plague. Even when he tried using the Map, it was as if you were one step ahead of him. He looked for you in the Library, where he thought you’d be even if he said no, but you were nowhere to be found. He hoped you would make it to the match on Friday, but again, you were a no-show.

It wasn’t until Saturday when he begged Alice to drag you to Hogsmeade so he could just ‘casually’ run into you. It took him and Sirius to convince her since she was still mad at Remus for rejecting you, but she caved.

So, here you were, on your way to Hogsmeade as a third wheel on Alice and Frank’s date, although they insisted it wasn’t a date, so Marlene and Dorcas were here too. So, all in all, you were fifth-wheeling.

“Come on, love. It’s gonna be fun!” Marlene said, linking her arm with yours. “We can do whatever you’d like!”

“Yeah, we can go to the Three Broomsticks, or Tomes and Scrolls, or the music shop” Dorcas suggested.

“To be honest with you, girls, I kind of just want to go to Honeydukes to get as much candy as I can carry and then go back” you said with a sad sigh.

“What? No, love, it’s a beautiful day!” Marlene insisted.

“Look, we have some errands to run, why don’t you go to Honeydukes to get some candy, and then we can meet at the Three Broomsticks?” Alice suggested as you entered the village.

“Um… can’t I just by my candy and go-”

“No!” Dorcas and Marlene said in unison. “We’re gonna head to the Three Broomsticks to get a booth, so you better come there after buying your candy” Dorcas added.

“Ugh, fine!” you said, frustrated.

In all honesty, all you wanted to do was buy an endless amount of candy and go back to your dorm. Ever since Remus rejected you, you felt people watching you everywhere you went. You could hear them talking about you and you were certain that the girls that witnessed the entire thing had already spread around your very much public rejection. Which is why you had been avoiding going out of your dorm as much as you could.

You turned around to make your way to Honeydukes, completely missing that your friends joined James, Peter, Lily, Remus, and Sirius at the Three Broomsticks.

“You’re up, Lupin” Alice said, still glaring at him as the rest made their way inside the pub.

Remus took a deep breath before he followed you into the sweetshop. He spotted you on one of the furthest shelves, holding, or trying to, as many sweets as you could in your hands. He felt a sweet smile forming on his face as he watched you. A small part of him still thought that Sirius was wrong. That there was no way that you could ever be interested in someone like him.

But his heart fluttered more intensely with each step he took towards you, and he knew that whether Sirius was right or wrong, he still needed to apologize to you for the way he spoke. When one of the many chocolate frogs you had fell on the floor, he quickly made his way over to you and picked it up.

“Um, here, I think you dropped this” he said, making you turn around to face him. His heart ached a little when the smile dropped off your face when you saw it was him.

“Oh… um” you said, grabbing the treat from his hand. “Thanks” you smiled nervously.

“How have you been?” he asked, cursing himself silently. “I uh… didn’t see you at the match yesterday” he added.

“Right… I wasn’t really in the mood to go” you smiled firmly.

“Oh” Remus said, feeling even worse. “W-well, you missed a good match” he chuckled. “Gryffindor won” he said.

“I heard” you replied noticing a few people looking your way. “Um, I should uh- probably get going” you said, as you were going to start making your way out, but you felt Remus gently grab your arm and turn you around.

“Wait!” he said, getting even more attention from the students around you. “Um, I…” he felt his heart beating a little faster. He didn’t like dragging this much attention to himself and he wanted to ask you to go somewhere a bit more private. But, firstly, he didn’t think you’d like to go anywhere with him until you apologized and secondly, he very much publicly rejected you, so maybe he had to do the same thing. “I wanted to apologize to you” he blurted out.

“Oh, R-Remus, you don’t have to-”

“Yes, I do” he said, getting closer to you and pulling you a little away. “I’m really sorry about the way that I spoke to you” he said. “I’m sorry for assuming that you were just talking to me to get closer to Sirius-”

“Why did you think that?” you asked all of the sudden.

“E-excuse me?”

“Why would you think that the only reason I would talk to you or wanted to spend time with you would be to get closer to someone else?” you asked. “I mean, I thought- I thought we were friends… Is that… um… is that what you think of me?” you asked, sadly.

“What? No!” he assured you. “I don’t- we are friends” he insisted. “I just…” he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Okay, here it goes” he said, taking a deep breath. “I like you, love” he started. “I really like you. I’ve liked you so much for so long, I’m pretty sure that I’m very much in love with you” he confessed. “But, I never in a million years thought that y-you could like me like that” he said. “I thought that you were only interested in Quidditch because you wanted to see Sirius and I saw him wink at you, so my reasoning was that you liked him because, for some reason every girl in school does, and that would be the logical thing-”

“The logical thing would be for me to like Sirius?”

“Well, yes” he said as if it was obvious.

“Why?”

“Why would you have any interest in spending time with me then?”

“Because I like you, you big idiot!” you blurted out, frustrated.

“Y-you do?”

“Yes! I figured Sirius might have told you by now, or you might have heard it from the entire school who apparently knows and you’re the only one who’s still oblivious to it!”

“Well, to be honest, Sirius did say something but, I still wasn’t entirely sure that it was true-”

“Why, Remus? Why do you think it’s so impossible for me to be in love with you?”

“L-love? Did you just say love?” he asked, smiling.

“I uh-” you said, realizing you just let it slip. “Well, you said it first!”

“Well, yes, because it makes sense for me to be in love with you, but it doesn’t make sense for you to be in love with me!”

“What? That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard! Why?”

“Why? Oh, I don’t know, maybe we should discuss this on the next lunar phase” he said, muttering the last words.

“Oh, Merlin! Really? Is that what this is about?”

“For starters!” he argued. “Trust me, it would make a lot more sense if you liked Sirius! He’s handsome and always laughing, he’s funny and witty-”

“Remus, are you trying to tell me that I should be in love with Sirius? Or that you are in love with Sirius?” you smirked a little.

“That’s not what I meant!” he glared at you. “Look, I just… I never thought that someone like you would ever want to be with… someone like me” he muttered the last part.

“Wow, you really are an idiot, aren’t you?” you chuckled as Remus rolled his eyes.

“Why does everyone keep saying that?”

“Who called you an idiot?”

“Sirius!” he complained.

“Aw” you smiled. “Well, we can be two idiots in love, or you can just reject me again. It’s your move, Lupin” you told him.

Remus bit his bottom lip, trying to prevent his smirk from getting bigger. He walked closer to you and gently pulled you closer to him by your waist before he leaned down to press his lips against yours. You suddenly dropped all the candy you had in your hands and you quickly wrapped your arms around his shoulders.

“I choose two idiots in love” he smiled before kissing you once more.

“Good answer, Lupin” you smiled.

“Oh, I also wanted to ask” he said, grabbing your sweets and placing them in a basket. “If you’re not too busy if you… wanted to go on a date with me?”

“Well, I told Dorcas and Marlene I would go to the Three Broomsticks-”

“Yes, they are all waiting for us to get there” he informed you.

“Oh, okay, so that’s a no on the Three Broomsticks then” you said, as you walked over to pay for your things.

“I think that’s for the best” he smiled.

“Well then, it looks like my day is free” you said, as Remus held your hand when you walked out of Honeydukes.

He pulled you back a little and kissed you once more. “I really am sorry, love” he smiled.

“I know you are, Rem” you smiled back at him.

“So, does this mean you’ll keep me company on Quidditch matches?”

“If you’re there, I guess I can be there” you smiled as he kissed you again, neither of you noticing your group of friends looking at the two of you from the window at the pub across the street.

“Fucking finally” Sirius muttered, bumping Alice’s fist. 

The End

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

A/N: hope you loves like it! Charlie's coming up next!

#once-upon-an-imagine #harry potter x reader #hp x reader #marauders #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin #marauders era #ooooooooh the feels #it was really good #i loved it so much #my poor little heart

[untilnextchapter]

don't worry, darling

pairing: avenger!bucky x civilian!reader

word count: 3.3k

summary: even though bucky is mostly healed, that doesn’t mean his nightmares go away. and a particular grueling mission brings back memories he’d rather forget. 

warnings: angsttttt, hella fluff at the end though, hurt/comfort, talk of bucky’s trauma and abuse, brief mentions of murder of a hydra agent (he deserves it), nightmares, reader is here to love and comfort bucky, also civil war and everything after didn’t happen and they all live at the tower and everything is fine bc i said so

a/n: even though this does not contain smut, my blog is 18+ so minors dni. also i wanted to write something short and sweet to get my creative juices flowing and yet, as always, i managed to go overboard

tip jar | masterlist

It started with a whimper, a small one. Barely detectable if you weren’t already awake and snuggled against Bucky’s body. He’s lying on his side facing you with you mirroring his position, arms wrapped around each other and your head tucked into his chest. You’ve been having a hard time sleeping for the last week and a half due to Bucky being gone on a mission that didn’t allow him to contact you at all. Your restless nights were mostly due to worrying over your boyfriend’s safety, something you always do whenever he leaves. It was worse this time around, though.

It was a day before he was supposed to leave, and you knew you weren’t supposed to listen in on other people’s private conversations, but you just couldn’t help yourself. You’d come home early from work one day to find Steve and Bucky in your shared home office, stopping outside the door and getting ready to knock when you overheard something about an upcoming mission. It seemed pretty important so you decided not to interrupt them, though you couldn’t force yourself to walk away.

You’re never allowed to know anything about what Bucky’s missions entail, and some part of you wanted to listen in on their conversation to hopefully ease any worries about what might be happening to him since you’ll have a general idea of where they’re going and what they’re doing. 

According to Steve, although it was going to be a four-day mission, it was supposed to be relatively simple. Or, it would’ve been simple if it weren’t for the fact that the building they were being sent to scout was an old Hydra facility somewhere in Russia. The same Hydra facility where Bucky was held captive.

Upon hearing this piece of information you wanted to barge into the room and tell Steve off for letting Bucky be a part of this mission. It’s been nearly five years since he escaped and Bucky has mostly readjusted, has recovered from his trauma as much as one can after being tortured for decades. And you’ll be damned if anything jeopardizes that progress.

But you’d also overheard Bucky agreeing with the plans, helping Steve strategize, and going over all the information that needed to be obtained. And it wasn’t your place to tell Bucky what he could and couldn’t do. As much as you wanted to demand that he not go, he was his own person. And if he thought he could handle this mission then you’d have to find a way to support him.

The four-day mission turned into eight and by the sixth day with still no contact, you’d marched into the tower and demanded Fury call you with any and all updates he received. He said he would in a tone that made you believe he wouldn’t give you every detail, but it did help reassure you that if anything happened to Bucky then you wouldn’t be kept totally in the dark. It was nerve-wracking in the worst way, obsessively thinking over what Bucky could be going through - physically and mentally.

But on the eighth day, Fury had called you on your lunch break at work to tell you that Bucky was on his way back to the Tower and would probably be back at your apartment by early evening after the briefing and check-up in the medical wing.

All of your nerves and anxieties that built up over the last week were immediately replaced with relief flooding your body, your heart finally unclenching at knowing that Bucky would be back in a few short hours. One good thing about your job is that you don’t technically need to be in the office every day. As long as you get your work done you’re pretty much given free rein to leave whenever you want, and you’d finished your stack of paperwork maybe fifteen minutes before the phone call.

You gathered up your things quickly and stopped by your boss's office to wish her a good weekend, then made your way to your car to head home. Your heartbeat was increasing ever so slightly the closer you got to your apartment, and you had to remind yourself to focus on driving instead of daydreaming of being back in Bucky’s arms.

When you did finally get home, you made quick work of cleaning the entire apartment; changing your bed sheets, doing laundry, then pulling out food from the fridge to make dinner. You’d actually just gotten the chicken out of the oven when the front door opened, and your excitement at finally seeing your boyfriend again forced you to run out of the kitchen and down the hall. But you stopped a good six feet from the door, standing still at seeing Bucky’s bruised face and scabbed knuckles.

“Bucky?” You asked softly, finally noticing the spacey look in his eyes, the way they seemed to be glazed over.

Bucky smiled at you, though it was more of a grimace, and you could tell it was mostly forced but he still wanted to acknowledge you. He approached you slowly, and you stood still so you would not startle him - he just seemed so on edge. He stopped not even a foot away from you, had stared down at you with a look in his eyes you hoped you would never see again - it was such an empty gaze, almost emotionless. There was no life in his eyes. It didn’t feel like the dead gaze was directed at you specifically, it was more like Bucky just couldn’t muster up any emotion at all.

That’s when you knew. Something went wrong.

Slowly, he brought up his right hand and placed it on the back of your head, tilting it up so he could really look at you, letting his gaze linger on your lips. Instead of kissing them, he leans forward to press a kiss on your forehead, wrapping his left arm around your waist and pulling you into his chest. He didn’t speak as he slowly tucked you into his body, and you didn’t dare break the silence either, you simply wrapped your arms around his body as well, squeezing him tightly to let him know that you were there. You were there for him - physically, mentally, and emotionally, and you needed him to know that.

After maybe five minutes of no one speaking, of simply standing in the front hallway embracing each other, you decided to finally say something.

“I made dinner,” You whispered, running one of your hands up and down Bucky’s back. You pulled your head off of his chest but didn’t loosen your hold. “Chicken and mashed potatoes. I even made apple pie.”

Bucky’s mouth twitched again, and his attempted smile felt a little more genuine this time. His glassy eyes were filled with tears now, and he seemed oh so close to crying. You’d never seen him like this before, he was always happy, and smiling, even on days when he wouldn’t say it but you knew he still resented himself for his time as the soldier he would indulge in his hobbies to help him cope. But you’ve never seen him shut down before, and this is what this felt like.

You weren’t too sure how to help him, how to comfort him. But you had an inkling he might need some time to himself.

“How about you go shower and I can put the food away for later,” You said with a soft smile, speaking up again before Bucky had the chance to feel guilty, “I ate a couple of hours ago, I’m fine baby. Go shower.”

You lifted up on your toes and placed a soft kiss on his cheek, letting him squeeze you to his chest one more time before he released you, slumping off down the hall to the bathroom.

That was two days ago, and Bucky hasn’t spoken more than a few words at a time since. Now, it’s not like he’s avoiding you, he’s actually a little more clingy than he normally is. You can tell he wants to say something, to tell you what had happened, he just doesn’t know how. He hasn’t told you everything about what happened to him during his time as the soldier, but you know enough and don’t push him to say anything he doesn’t want to.

At night, Bucky will go out onto the small terrace outside of your apartment and stare up at the stars for hours. You don’t sit with him for all of it, just for about one hour - cuddled close to his body and talking softly and mindlessly about anything you can think of, anything that might help Bucky open up. Then, around nine or ten, you’ll give him a lingering kiss on his cheek, one on his temple, and one final kiss on his lips before going to bed, letting Bucky be alone with himself and his thoughts.

Tonight, though, Bucky’s decided to climb into bed with you soon after dinner. You both showered together, washing each other’s bodies and sharing a few lingering kisses under the spray of the shower head. You didn’t go any further, but you did make sure to spend extra time massaging his shoulders and back, placing kisses everywhere you could reach.

It’s one in the morning now, and you hear another whimper. Bucky shifts beside you, tightening his hold on you ever so slightly. Another whine. 

“Bucky?” You whisper, careful to not disturb the silence too much.

He responds with a mumbled ‘please’. Then, ‘no’.

“Buck? Baby?” You say a little louder, shifting in his hold but not able to move much due to his arms being wound around your body.

He shudders, pulling you further into him as his breathing picks up. He’s having a nightmare. Now, despite him being mostly healed, he still does have nightmares. They’ve lessened over the years, but they never truly go away.

When he’s in this mindset, you’re careful not to move too much and startle him awake. So, you simply shimmy your arm from under one of his so you can push on his chest and gently ease him onto his back. It takes a little more force than you’d like, but you’re eventually able to lay him flat on his back and untangle your body from his.

“Baby?” You whisper a little louder, placing your hand on the side of his face and rubbing your thumb along his cheekbone. “Bucky.”

He groans; louder, desperate. He’s in pain. You run your hand down his face, down his neck, then land on his chest, right above his heart. It’s increased rapidly, and you can see beads of sweat coat his forehead.

“Bucky.” Your voice is pleading, and you push on his chest a little, now hoping to startle him awake before it gets worse. You don’t want to keep him in this nightmare, so you shake him again.

“Bu-” You’re stopped short by him gasping, his eyes shooting open and his body lifting off the bed slightly as he wakes up. Relief fills your body, and you sigh gratefully. You hate when he’s in pain, whether physical or mental, but you hate not being able to do anything about it even more.

Bucky doesn’t move right away, he squeezes his eyes closed and clenches his fists momentarily. Then, when you place your hand on his cheek, his whole body goes limp, relaxing into the sheets under your touch.

“Baby,” He whispers hoarsely. “I…” He chokes back a sob, and you’re quick to adjust yourselves so you’re laying on your back and he’s laying almost entirely on top of you with his head on your chest right above your heart. He starts crying then, really crying. His arms wrap themselves around your midsection, and you wrap yours around his body as well, cradling him close to you.

“It’s okay, darling. It’s okay, you’re okay,” You mumble into his ear, pressing kisses anywhere you can reach. You continue cooing at him, whispering reassurances and declarations of love until his cries taper off into small whimpers and sniffles. You’re really worried now. Yeah, Bucky isn’t shy about expressing his emotions, and you’ve held him after nightmares and through the aftermath of difficult missions when he comes home disheartened. But he’s never been so vulnerable, and you want nothing more than to hold him close and protect him from everything bad in the world.

Silence envelops the both of you for a while. You want to allow Bucky to speak when he’s ready. And he does so after a couple of minutes.

“There was an agent; Alix, I think. I - I don’t remember his last name, but…” Bucky pauses, and you take the opportunity to place a kiss on his forehead. “For the last five or so years of me being… him, Alix was there. He’d… Any time I failed a mission, he’d be there. Out of all the Hydra agents that I’ve ever come in contact with… his punishments were the worst.”  He pauses again, sniffling softly and nuzzling his face into your chest.

“I’m so sorry, darling,” You whisper, bringing your hand up to his hair so you can run your fingers through his locks. Bucky shakes his head softly, pressing a kiss to your collarbone.

“He was there. When Steve, Natasha, and I went to the facility last week, Alix was there. And he… I don’t know. I saw him and I just went blank, my mind shut off. I know I promised I wouldn’t kill anymore, I know. I just… He just hurt me so fucking much.”

Bucky starts crying again, and you have to force yourself not to cry as well. You want to be here to support him, not break down as well because then he’ll feel guilty. He always says you’re one of the most important people in his life - Steve obviously being another one - and that seeing you cry makes him want to go feral on whoever or whatever made you sad.

“I had to,” he says, muffled by his face tucking into your neck. “I just. I couldn’t not. I thought I was ready, I thought I could go there and be okay. But I wasn’t. I… He broke me.” Bucky trails off, sighing heavily before he goes quiet again, giving you time to process this information.

“Baby,” You say, prompting Bucky to hum in acknowledgment. “Can you look at me, please?”

You know it takes a lot of effort, but he does. Bucky lifts his head from your neck, looking into your eyes with overwhelming sorrow. Bending your head, you place a quick kiss on his lips.

“This might sound odd, but I’m proud of you. You thought you were healed enough to do it, you went through the planning and probably had to hype yourself up a lot to even agree to the mission. And that’s immense progress. The fact that you even felt ready, even if you ultimately weren’t, you pushed through it and finished the mission. And that’s something to be celebrated. Sometimes recovery can be set back by certain events, but that doesn’t mean that everything else you’ve accomplished is set back as well. You tried, and I’m proud of you.”

With that said, you give Bucky another kiss, lingering a little longer this time before pulling back and holding his gaze.

“And I know you promised to not kill anyone, but I don’t blame you in this situation. I don’t know what this says about me, but even though I don’t know exactly how you killed him, and I don’t think I want to honestly, I do know he deserved far worse than what you gave him. He’s just lucky I wasn’t there because I genuinely don’t know what I would have done if I saw him.”

Bucky’s mouth forms into the smallest of smiles, and you can’t help but want to burn the world to the ground if it means he was protected from the harm it brought him.

“I know you’re the man, and that, stereotypically, men are supposed to be the protector, the provider, but you also deserve to be protected, to have everything you could ever want. And I want to give that to you. I know you are your own person and you do a damn well job of taking care of yourself, but I also want to take care of you. I want to protect you from everything bad, everything that’s ever harmed you, and everything that could potentially harm you in the future.”

You place a kiss on his forehead, squeezing the arm that’s around his upper back to hug him tighter to you.

“You’re the love of my life, baby. Now and forever.”

Bucky shudders slightly, leaning up to kiss your jaw, then one to your cheek, one on the corner of your mouth, and one final kiss to your lips. Your hand continues to run through his hair, tugging at it slightly, causing your boyfriend to sigh in contentment and tighten his hold on you as well. You’re locked in the embrace for a long moment, his lips gliding over yours as the kiss remains relatively chaste. But then, he pulls away.

“Darling,” He says, and for the first time in two days, he finally looks like he’s getting back to his old self. “I - I don’t think I’m ready to talk about everything that happened during the mission right now, I kind of just want to hear you talk so I can get my mind off of it for a little if that’s okay?” He looks a bit nervous asking for that, but you’re quick to nod, offering him a smile of your own. Bucky smiles a tad bit wider and removes one of his arms from around your body so he can slowly reach up and take hold of your hand that’s still running through his hair. Stubble tickles your palm as Bucky presses his lips there, then turns his gaze up to look into your eyes.

“I can’t even describe how much I love you. It scares me, sometimes, the things I would do for you. I need you to know that I will do everything I can to make you as happy and safe as you make me. You’re just… you’re incredible. And I can’t thank you enough for how much you’ve helped me over the past two years that we’ve been together, even the entire year before we started dating when we were just friends.”

His eyes start watering for a whole other reason now. Bucky looks so damn in love that you’d think it hurt, and you would know because that’s exactly how you feel about him.

“I - I know we haven’t talked about it, and I don’t even have a ring, but I can’t ever imagine loving anyone as much as I love you. I’m devoted to you, now and forever. I don’t know how you feel, but if you’re ever willing to…” He pauses, and you feel your heartbeat increase rapidly, a sudden happiness flooding your body.

“If I were to one day ask you to marry me, would you say yes?”

You’ve never nodded faster in your life, nor have you ever said ‘yes’ so quickly to anything Bucky has asked.

The large sigh of relief your boyfriend lets out lets you know he’s probably been thinking about this for a while, and you would swear your heart is about to burst from how much you love this man as you hold him close to your chest and place absentminded kisses on his forehead, cheeks, lips, the top of his head.

Everything stays silent for a few minutes, letting the conversation taper off. That is, until Bucky puts his head back on your shoulder, lacing his fingers with yours and bringing your hands up to kiss your knuckles.

“Can you talk to me?”

Humming in agreement, you run your hand that’s still on his back up and down in a soothing motion.

“Do you want to hear about how Sam almost broke his arm last week?”

#bucksangel #marvel x reader #marvel #mcu #mcu x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #hello there #it was so sweet #i loved it #i love seeing a fragile bucky and an understanding reader #don't know why but that's it

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can you write reader x agent rossi, with the dialogue prompt: "did you just call me grandad?"

A/N: Only now realising I forgot to use the dialogue prompt haha.

Over the few months you had been an official member of the BAU, the team had undoubtedly learnt more about the girl they'd each raised in part. Naturally, they'd all deemed themselves pretty brushed up on one Y/N Reid, having been subjected to all the homework questions and babysitting duties the moment Spencer had joined the team. But since your official enlistment, CV, interview and all (though Hotch would be lying if he'd glanced much longer than five seconds at the applications of other graduate candidates), they considered themselves professionals.

Profilers at their best, Hotch had discovered your self-confidence was not as high as you liked others to believe, which often bled into your countenance on the field. Not the worst thing, easy to manage. He planned to talk to you about it soon.

Derek had placed a bet with himself that you were more protective of Spencer on the field than he was of you. Endearing. He found it sweet that Spencer didn't even notice.

J.J. had figured out you absolutely hated ice cream, and Emily had decided you pretended you did because it was Spencer's favourite food. Penelope insisted you had a natural talent with computers. You insisted you did not.

Rossi, meanwhile, had found out that you had an affinity for using him as your pillow. Spencer was slightly ahead of him, of course, but he hadn't yet noticed you using anyone else. At first he'd figured it wasn't intentional, but somehow, when you were on the jet, you typically found yourself beside him. Profiling told him now you did it because you felt safe with him, subconsciously or not. He couldn't complain about that.

On this particular trip, you had nodded off only half an hour ago as Rossi helped Hotch with some paperwork. The girl leaning into his side didn't bother him and never had. He'd draped his jacket over your shoulders, as he always did, and got on with it.

You didn't usually wake until the plane was due for landing, but this time you jolted a little, eyes flickering open as you lifted your head from Rossi's shoulder and glanced blearily around you.

"Good morning," Rossi said affectionately, fixing the jacket around your shoulders.

You turned to look at him, taking a second to process who he was before you frowned. "It's morning?"

Rossi nodded seriously and sat back. "Oh, yeah. You've been sleeping on me for hours."

With how sleep-addled your mind was, you had no clue if he was joking or not, or even if you were awake or dreaming. Thankfully, you had enough consciousness to notice the rare smile on Hotch, who sat opposite over his own papers, and then the twinkle in Rossi's eyes when you turned back to him.

Groaning, you fell back against your seat. Rossi chuckled and reached over to pat your leg.

"Only teasing, kiddo. Go back to sleep. Still three hours to go."

You rubbed at your eyes with a yawn but listened nonetheless. "You're mean, Grandad," you mumbled before swiftly finding your previous place buried into his side and falling quicker into sleep than both Rossi and Hotch had ever seen someone achieve.

Rossi stared at Hotch. "I don't know if that was an insult or a very endearing compliment."

Hotch chuckled quietly. “I think it was a mix of both.”

Rossi adjusted the jacket again. “Hmm. No, that doesn’t reassure me.”

Later, Spencer would tell him it had likely been an insult. No matter. Rossi would be your Grandad if your feeling safe was the result.

Criminal Minds Masterpost

#cas-kingdom #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #david rossi #david rossi x reader #sister!reader #it was so sweet #i loved it so much

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please wake up ; h.h.

𓂃 ⋆ 𓈒 masterlist

summary. instead of stoick dying after toothless is under the bewilderbeasts control, you, hiccup's younger sister, are almost hit, resulting in tears and desperation.

pairing. hiccup haddock x sister!reader

genre. angst, hurt/comfort, platonic.

word count. 2.8k

warnings. for plot reasons, valka was taken by cloudjumper when hiccup was 4 and you were a baby, near death experiences, violence, lots of angst.

✐ i couldn’t find the original post for the gif (i found it on pinterest, reposted), but the username is in the top left corner of the gif ^^

The amount of fear that ran through Hiccup when Drago yelled out his bone chilling scream, waving his staff around in the air… it was immeasurable. The aggression that the throaty sound held in it sent a chill down Hiccup’s spine. He knew at that moment, that he was in serious trouble.

The ground shook with each step that the bewilderbeast took towards them, and rather than the calm awe and serenity that Hiccup felt when he met his mothers bewilderbeast, looking into the eyes of this one made him feel a fear that he couldn’t get rid of.

“No dragon can resist the alpha’s command.” Drago said lowly, his voice scratching its way out of his throat. “So, he who controls the alpha, controls them all.”

A hint of rage settled in Hiccups veins as Drago spoke, pointing his staff towards Toothless.

The rage nearly dissipated, a low sound emitting throughout snow and ice covered land. The sound came from the bewilderbeast, it’s pupils narrowed at Toothless. Toothless began shaking his head, making a noise of discomfort. “Toothless?” Hiccup said worriedly.

Toothless continued to whimper, shaking his head around. “T-toothless, you okay, bud? What’s going on?” But all of the words leaving Hiccups mouth did nothing.

Drago’s voice sounded again. “Witness true strength. The strength of will over others.” Drago was holding up his staff again, the pointed end pointing to Toothless, who suddenly rose, ever so still. “In the face of it… you are nothing.”

When Hiccup realized he was now looking at the end of the staff, it being pointed directly at his chest, he knew that trouble was arising. Toothless slowly turned towards him, pupils as narrow as the bewilderbeast’s were. “Uh,” Hiccup slowly backed away from his dragon, “What did he just tell you?”

Toothless got low to the ground, snarling as he slowly crept over towards his rider, who kept backing away. “Toothless, come on. What’s the matter with you?” He felt the desperation begin to tear at his heart, knowing that there was almost nothing he could do. And sudden moves or sounds could result in the controlled Toothless to pounce on him, resulting in his demise. Even if Hiccup could get a hit in, how much would that break his heart? Would he be able to hurt his best friend?

“No, no, no, no. Come on. What are you doing? Knock it off.” Hiccup knew he was being backed up into ice, and soon he would have no where to go. “Stop!” He yelled out, “snap out of it!” But the attempt was useless, as Toothless kept his slow, creeping pace.

The world around his became almost meaningless. It was just him, Toothless, and mountains of ice trapping him in. “Toothless, no! Toothless.”

Toothless hissed, preparing to launch a heated breath of fire at him, and he felt his heart drop. “Don’t!”

He almost didn’t hear the broken cry of his name being shouted, his eyes remaining on Toothless’ sharp ones. “Stop!”

“Hiccup!” The voice shouted again, and with wide eyes, he looked, and his heart sunk further. You were running right towards him, determination and fear in your eyes. The painful realization of what you were doing came all too quick, and his fear that was once reserved for himself was now almost entirely for you. “Y/n! No!”

But it was too late, you were right next to him, and then crashing into him. Hiccup slid across the snow covered ground, gasping in fear of what he’d see when he looked at you.

He looked just in time to see the blast of fire miss you—just in time to see it hit the ice behind you, breaking a peace of it off as it came crashing down onto you.

“No!”

He startled himself with the cry that left his lips. The world around him faded out again. It was only you, him, and his shallow breaths. “No…” He said again, the disbelief strong in his tone. This couldn’t be happening.

He ran over to you, feeling like he was going to collapse. He was by your side in seconds—he was by your side and there you were, covered in shards of teal-blue ice. Your eyes were shut; your breathing was barely there. He feared every one of your breaths would be your last.

He groaned as he pushed the ice off of you, piece by piece. As each shard slid off, an already growing bruise was left in its wake wherever your skin was visible.

The despair was crushing him; engulfing him; making a home into his heart that was sinking even further as it buried itself into the ever so cold snow beneath him. He grabbed and pulled at your left arm, pulling you off of your side and onto your back. “Y/n!”

Hiccup hardly paid attention to his mother dropping by his side, and his father close behind her. Your breaths were still so shallow.

“Y/n… Oh, my Gods.” His breath caught in his throat, and he faintly felt his mothers hand rest on his shoulder. For the better of his own sanity, he pressed to fingers to your neck, sighing in relief at the slow and weak feeling of your heartbeat beneath his fingers. It wasn’t much, but it was something.

“Wake up… please wake up.” He ignored every sound around him, including the sound of his friends arriving to the scene. He couldn’t help but to wrap his arms around you, being ever so careful and gentle with your injured form. He felt like he had already lost you, the thought making tears roll down his face. He couldn’t believe that you had gotten hurt instead of him: the target.

You—the younger sister who came into his life when he was just 4 years old. The sister who listened to him when everyone turned a blind eye and pretended like he didn’t exist. You were always there, and as he held you close, he couldn’t get rid of the fear that soon you would be here no longer.

All of his attention was on you, until he heard a low coo from his very own dragon: the dragon who did this.

As Toothless’ snout brushed up against your hand, he couldn’t help the anger that enveloped him. Deep down he knew it wasn’t Toothless’ fault, but something else told him he needed something to be angry at. After seeing the way Toothless’ had unknowingly injured you, his emotions got the best of him. “No! Get away from her!” Hiccup harshly shoved Toothless away, feeling guilt at the way his dragon whined in response, but Hiccup was spiralling.

He stood to his feet, looking down at Toothless. “Go on! Get out of here!”

Toothless took a small step forward, his eyes holding sadness at being shouted at, but Hiccup shouted again. “Get away!”

Hiccup was a mix of emotions as Toothless coward away and ran off.

“It’s not his fault.” Valka said softly, her sadness making her voice wobble only slightly. “You know that.”

And Hiccup did know that. He fell to his knees again, fresh tears rolling down his face as he looked at you. Your eyes were still closed.

The bewilderbeast roared out, but Hiccup almost didn’t hear it as his mother spoke. “Good dragons under the control of bad people… do bad things.”

“Come on!” Hiccup heard someone shout, along with the sound of Toothless whimpering. He looked up, and Drago was riding a once again controlled Toothless, leading him away. “Gather the men and meet me at Berk!”

Hiccup felt an urgency rush through him, and he jumped up onto his feet. “Toothless!” He cried out to him, but Valka held him back. He felt useless as the alpha roared out, and Drago’s men prepared to leave the island.

He couldn’t help but to continue to cry. He just lost his best friend, and he looked down at you, worried that he would lose another. He dropped down beside you again, feeling like the entire world was against him. He felt lost and scared. He couldn’t lose you. He doesn’t know what he’d do without you.

“Hiccup…” Stoick said from behind him. Hiccup could already picture the look on his face based of the sadness in his voice.

“No, Dad.” Why were they acting like you were already dead? You just had to wake up.

As the tears kept falling down his cheeks, his friends backed away and watched from a good distance, as he needed his space. His parents stayed close behind him.

“We have to— we have to do something. Why isn’t anyone doing anything? My sister is dying and you’re all just standing around waiting for—“ Waiting for her to die.

“Hiccup,” Gobber said softly, a pained sigh leaving the man’s lips, “there’s not much we can do, right now. Not here. Back home, maybe things would be better. But we don’t have our dragons to get there, Hiccup.”

Hiccup remained looking at you, still. “So, why are you all acting like you don’t care?” Maybe that was harsh, but he was still spiralling.

“Hiccup, of course we care.” When Astrid spoke, Hiccup looked at her and found a world of sadness in her eyes. Maybe she was worried for you; maybe she felt guilt and pity for him; maybe it was both. The the look in her eyes made him feel less alone.

Hiccup was silent for a few moments, and then, “There’s nothing we can do?” He chose to ignore the way his voice cracked with emotion.

His father sighed, and removed his helmet, holding it to his chest. “Nothing we can do but pray that she wakes up.”

Hiccup inhaled deeply. “I need a second alone with her.”

He didn’t receive a response, he only heard the sound of footsteps slowly backing away.

With a shaking hand, he took your hand into his, watching a teardrop fall down and land on your fingertip. The desperation in him had been making a slow incline, and he wasn’t sure how much of this he could take.

“You have to wake up.” He whispered, falling back down to wrap an arm around you. “Come on. Wake up.”

But as your breathing remained slow, he felt the tears roll down a little faster, and he couldn’t help the sob that slipped past his lips. “Wake up. Come on, what are you doing? Get up…”

A hitch in your breath.

As the sound reaches his ears, and he feels the pattern of your breath change for only a moment, his head snaps up. Your face is neutral, a scrape and bruise on your right cheekbone.

“Y/n?…”

He’s filled with a sense of hope, and just as it feels like it was a trick of his mind, your breath catches again, and your brows move the smallest amount.

“Oh, my Gods.” Hiccup breathes out. “Y/n? Hey… wake up, come on.”

Your eyes began to flutter open and it’s like Hiccup and finally breathe again. He leans forward so that you see him, and your eyes meet his. “Hiccup?”

Hiccup laughs, light and airy, and nods. “Yeah, I’m here. You’re okay.

Your face scrunches up a little as you become aware of the pain running across your skin. Hiccup notices and a slight frown lands on his face.

Your hand squeezes his, “I’m glad you’re okay, Hiccup.”

Hiccup can’t help the shock that runs through him. “You’re glad I’m okay? I’m glad you’re okay…” he then sighs, thinking about how he nearly lost you. The ache in his heart was still there, like a poison latching onto him, killing him slowly. He couldn’t believe how close to death you had gotten. “I thought I was gonna lose you.”

And then he was hugging you again, being as gentle as possible. He felt you wrap an arm around his back, but he could tell that by the way your arm was shaking, it was taking more of a toll on you than you’d like to admit. Hiccup pulled back. “Don’t strain yourself.”

Your eyes were still only about half open and he wouldn’t be surprised if you passed out soon. “Don’t worry, you’re gonna be fine. I promise.”

But his words could only be heard so clearly as the world began to fade once again. It had taken so much of your energy to stay conscious as long as you did.

“No, no, no. Keep your eyes open, okay? Stay awake, stay awake— Dad!”

The last thing you saw was your brother and parents hovering over you, and then you were welcomed into a deep sleep once again.

⿻

The rest of the day went by so fast, yet so slow. Hiccup felt pride for him and Toothless—who he had since forgiven and apologized to—for being able to fight against Drago and the alpha. After this, it was clear that Toothless had earned his place as the alpha. However, as all of this had been happening, you were the only thing on Hiccup’s mind. He was fighting for everyone, and most importantly to avenge you. This was Drago’s fault—all of this. Hiccup had to do something about it, and he did.

It was likely clear how much he was worrying for you, because not long after the bewilderbeast had dove into the water, taking Drago with him, his mother was at his side. He knew from the look on her face alone that she was saying he should go to you. He didn’t waste a second.

He ran up to his house, passing by people cheering and shouting out of glee, and he pushed open his front door and ran straight to your room. There you were, under the care of Gothi, tucked into your bed and bandaged wherever needed. It was honestly a wonder that they were even able to get you to Berk while you were unconscious, but they managed. Hiccup was just glad to see you now, alive and breathing.

Gothi nodded at him, making her way out of the room. Hiccup remained still for a moment, looking down at you. It pained him to see you like this.

Eventually he sat on the edge of the bed, and looked down at his hands. He felt so guilty about you getting hurt. It felt like it was his fault, somehow. You had jumped to save him, and this is where it brought the both of you. Surely, he was partially at fault for this outcome.

“You’re not blamin’ yourself, are you?”

At the sound of your voice, Hiccup whipped his head around, eyes wide and burning with tears that haven’t even quite built up yet. “You’re awake.”

You nodded lightly, looking down at your bandaged and bruised body. You didn’t regret a thing you did.

“Why… did you do that?” Hiccup started slowly. He didn’t expect this to be what he decided to talk about, but he got to thinking and his mouth was moving before he even realized it. “I mean… save me—“ He took a deep breath, brows furrowing at the topic at hand.

“What else did you want me to do?” You said. You sounded determined, strangely enough.

“I—“

“I couldn’t just… stand there.”

“I wanted you to.”

You sighed this time. “And what? Watch you die? You could’ve.”

Hiccup saw tears begin to form in your own eyes, and he somewhat felt bad for bringing this up right now. “You could’ve, too.”

“I know.” You stated. There was a brief pause as you both collected your thoughts. You didn’t want to argue about this. Neither of you wanted to make anger out of grieving for someone who hadn’t even died. “I care about you, Hiccup. You looked just as scared as I felt. Even if you don’t want to admit it. I don’t know what I would’ve done with myself if you got hurt, or worse. I love you, but I’m not sorry for what I did. I’d rather be hurt than you be hurt instead.”

Hiccup gazed down at you and realized in that moment that you were just like any other Haddock—stubborn as hell. Hiccup and his father were some of the most stubborn people on Berk, if not the most stubborn, and he wouldn’t be surprised that if he got to know his mother a little more, she would turn out to be the same.

Having such a quality can be unbearable at times, but it made for some pretty promising trust with the people you love.

“Well,” Hiccup broke into a smile, chuckling lightly. “I would do the same for you.”

You laughed softly. “I’d hope so.”

Hiccup was shocked when you started pushing yourself up on the bed all of a sudden. “Hey, woah, woah, woah. What are you doing?”

“Relax. I know my limits.” You snickered, and then winced. All of a sudden your arms were around Hiccup and Hiccup wasn’t sure if it was the stupidest or sweetest thing you’ve ever done. Probably both.

Hiccup hugged you back, his eyes closing as it felt like the day was finally calming down. “Don’t ever do anything like that again.”

An amused scoff, and then, “no promises.”

Definitely a Haddock.

@ sakufilms

#sakufilms #httyd #how to train your dragon #httyd x reader #hiccup haddock #hiccup haddock x reader #hiccup x reader #sister!reader #ooooooooh the feels #it was really good #i loved it #like really

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Dad!Spencer Headcanons

(requested by anon for my New Year's Celebration)

Spencer could not be happier when you tell him that you're ready to have kids. He always wanted to be a father.

When the baby is born he goes on parental leave to be able to spend as much time with his family as possible. He might even decide to take time off from the BAU and take on a teaching position so he can be there more.

He is so excited to finally be a dad and reads every book about parenting he can find.

He proves to be a great dad from day one. You can always rely on him to be there for you and your child.

He is used to an irregular sleeping schedule due to his job so it doesn't bother him to get up at night to take care of his kid.

It doesn't take too long until you decide you want to have another child and Spencer is just as excited as the first time to start this journey again.

He loves to read or recite children's books to his kids and they love listening to his voice. Soon they start sharing his love for books.

Spencer loves to watch them grow up and learn new things. His eyes are always filled with wonder and adoration when he sees their unique way of discovering the world.

He is really involved in his children's lives. They feel very safe with him and always tell him when something is on their mind. It warms your heart to see how much they trust him.

He keeps every single drawing and art piece they make. He would never throw away anything his kids created.

He loves to spoil his kids and he has a hard time saying no when they ask for something while looking at him with their big eyes. Sometimes you have to remind him to not overdo it.

Spending quality time with his family is really important to Spencer. It quickly becomes a family tradition to do some fun activities on weekends.

He makes sure that his children can explore different kinds of activities to find out what they like and what talents they have. It doesn't matter if it's art, music or sports, he will be there to support them.

Other kids from the neighbourhood or from school are always welcome at your house. Spencer really likes to entertain his kids' friends with little magic shows. He wants his children to have everything he missed out on as a kid.

Spencer has a hard time letting his children go when they grow older and need him less. He accepts it of course but sometimes he wishes that they would stay little forever.

If you liked this post you should check out my Pregnancy Headcanons and my Family Time Headcanons!

Please make sure to like, reblog and comment. Your support really helps me to come up with more stories!

Taglist: @nomajdetective @reidsbookclub @gspenc @samuel-de-champagne-problems @matthew-gray-gubler-lover @malindacath @reidselle @alexxavicry @frickin-bats @spencersprettyslut @sebs-oxygen @happymangospot @cynbx @melifluorei-d @hotchandspencearedilfs @emiliaserpe @thenerdthatwrites @velvetthunder93 @saturnstringz @missabsey @guacam011y @hugyourlungs @reiderwriter @enamoradax @hales-17 @cham9ions @loaksulluyswife @ecneremili @xserenax-13 @grumpyy-bearr @luredwithpretzels @castiels-majestic-wings @super-nerd22 @pleasantwitchgarden @yeonalie @r-3dlips @evvy96 @torigorie @khyleereads

#foxy-eva #spencer reid #spencer reid headcanons #headcanon #criminal minds #criminal minds headcanons #headcanons #dad!spencer reid #puppy power #i loved it #even if i'm not a big fan of headcanons in general

[untilnextchapter]

Soo I found another person who writes for Musketeers, awesome! 😌

How about some imagine of Aramis dating Treville's daughter? :)

Yes, god I’m so sorry for the wait IT’S A LITTLE SPICY

Captains Daughter

Y/n pov

The cool morning breeze gently rustled my skirts as I wandered into the garrison with a smile. 

“Good morning Gentlemen!” 

“Good morning mademoiselle Treville.” Athos waved, barely looking up. Porthos and D’Artagnan were engaged in an arm wrestle, and that left...Aramis.  Aramis, whose eyes had locked onto me as soon as I had stepped foot in the garrison. Aramis, whose smile had twisted into a smirk as he looked me over. Aramis, who never failed to make me feel a certain way. 

“I’m heading to market, would anyone care to accompany me?” 

“I’ll escort you mademoiselle.” Aramis stood and made his way to my side. We kept a reasonable distance from each other until we were out of sight. His leather clad hands cupped my face and pulled me close to him.

“We need to find a better way to meet up.” I purred, my lips barely brushing his. Aramis nodded and finally smashed his mouth to mine. I frantically entwined my fingers in his wavy hair. 

“Come on.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The bark of the tree dug into my back as I cupped Aramis’s face in my hands. One of his arms was hoisting one of my legs up around his waist and his other hand was pressed above my head to steady himself. 

“Mon amour...” Aramis purred, dipping his head to my neck and gently biting on the exposed skin. I was panting softly and grabbing at his hair and shirt and anything I could to steady myself.

“Aramis...” 

“WHAT IS GOING ON HERE!!!” 

And there goes the romance. Aramis wrenched himself away from me in an instant. There standing in the clearing was D’Artagnan frowning and handing over a sack of coins to Porthos who was grinning smugly. Athos was frowning, as usual, and finally my father was fuming as he took in the sight before him.

“I can explain!” Aramis yelled.

“WITH MY DAUGHTER??”

“Oh my God.” I mumbled, holding my face in my hands. 

“HOW LONG??”  

“Dad, it’s been 3 months, I was the one who said we shouldn’t tell you!” I explained. 

“Why? Mon coeur you can always tell me anything.” 

“Papa, I didn’t want you to overreact....”

“Overreact? I trust these men with the lives of royalty.”

“Would you trust them with your only daughter’s heart? Would you trust ARAMIS with my heart? No offense amour, but you do have a reputation.” I cast him a look and he held up his hands and nodded. I turned back to my father and sighed. “But he’s changed, and I love him.” 

The clearing was silent as my words hung heavy in the air. 

“Aramis.” 

“Yes captain?” 

“Take care of my daughter.”  

Aramis turned and grabbed my hands in his.

“I will.” He promised pressing his lips to my head in a gentle kiss.

Sorry it’s shitty.

#alysinwonderland-at-tea #bbc musketeers #the musketeers #the musketeers x reader #aramis x reader #aramis #oops #why always aramis #but bbc series did great with him

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Grinning Like a Devil

Matt Murdock x Reader

Words: 3539

Summary: Matt and the reader tease each other relentlessly at work. What happens when they discover that it’s more than just harmless flirting? One night of one too many drinks may prove just that. 

Notes: Some of my favorite Matt edits are to the song ‘Cruel Summer’ by Taylor Swift, and while I didn’t totally want to do another song based imagine for it (I have a different one for him in the works), I really love this cute little line for him. Plus I really need to write more fluff for him because everything is so angsty. This is, as so much of my fluff, a total mess, so I hope you guys enjoy. 

More Matt imagines: HERE

-

“And that’s three for me and… oh yeah, none for you,” you smirked, leaning on your pool stick. 

“Isn’t there some kind of rule about making fun of the blind guy?” Matt chuckled. 

“Matty, we both know you could have kicked my ass hours ago.” You shook your head and stepped towards him. “Stop toying with me and play.” 

Matt leaned towards you. 

For a second, you were afraid he could hear your heart racing in your chest, the butterflies in your stomach resuming their painful, wild dance. You faked a cocky laugh, letting him know you weren’t backing down. 

A grin formed on his lips. “Okay.” 

The next break landed three stripes. His next series of shots landed two more. You were right about one thing- he was perfectly capable of kicking your ass. The end of the game yielded only one shot for you while he swept the table. Hell, looked so bad for you, that you were half tempted to cheat and point him at the wrong ball. Somehow you felt he would know. 

Matt put up his pool stick and took yours with a smile. You tried to keep your jaw from dropping. 

He chuckled. “You asked for it.” 

You snapped out of your awestruck state and laughed. “Remind me to keep my mouth shut next time.” 

He paused and his smile shifted into a smirk. “Next time?” 

“Oh, that was just round one, Murdock. One of these days, I will beat you fair and square. Without you going easy on me.” 

He held out a hand. 

You took it. 

“Challenge accepted.” 

The touch sent a pleasant shock up your arm. His finger traced along the back of your hand as he pulled away, grazing your knuckles. Your breathing hitched and another smirk spread across his face. 

Bastard. 

“I’m going to get another drink,” he said. “Do you want anything else?” 

You cleared your throat to stop from squeaking. “Surprise me.” 

He nodded and headed back to the bar. You had to lean against the pool table to stop your knees from shaking. This was stupid. You saw Matt every day. 

But the way he smiled at you…

“Here.” Matt handed you a tall glass of a dark liquid.  

“What the hell is that?” You laughed through your grimace, holding the drink up to the light. It was clouded and hardly allowed any of the neon to shine through. 

Matt shrugged. “A surprise.” 

“You’re terrible.” 

“Oh, but you love me,” he teased. 

“Whatever.” You took a drink and immediately regretted it. The burning liquid traveled down your throat like black tar and despite how hard you tried, you couldn’t hold back the coughs. 

Matt laughed and sipped his perfectly normal beer. 

“Shut… up…” you sputtered. 

He kept laughing. It sent a surge of idiotic courage through your chest. 

You tapped the bottom of the glass against the pool table, took a deep breath, and gulped down the rest of the foul drink without breaking. You swallowed back the disgusted coughs and touched the empty glass to his chest. 

“Is that-” You winced at the taste still lingering in your mouth. “The best you’ve got, Murdock?” 

Matt chuckled and shook his head, setting the glass aside. You take a step forward on wobbly legs and stumble. His arms shot out to catch you and held you up against his chest. 

You both froze, dizzy from more than just the alcohol. 

“Maybe that’s enough for tonight,” he breathed. 

Having you this close, he didn’t need his hearing to know your heart started to race. And he knew, with your hands pressed against his chest, you could feel his too. 

“That’s probably a good idea,” you agreed, finding your footing again. 

The break of contact left a hollowness in his chest. His hand found your arm, both to steady you and to fill the space the lack of your touch had created. 

You closed your tabs and he insisted on paying, despite your protests. 

“After that toxic waste you downed, it's the least I can do,” he said. 

“Celebrating anything specific?” Josie wondered. Her eyes shifted curiously between the two of you and she gave you a smirk. 

Your face reddened. 

“We won a pretty major case today,” Matt explained with a smile. “The big bad land developers were defeated all thanks to Y/N’s investigating skills.” 

“Are you kidding?” You scoffed. “You and Foggy did all of the real work in that courtroom.” 

“Work we couldn’t have done without you.” He squeezed your hand. “Give yourself some credit. Without you, we’re just a couple of guys in suits and no case.” 

“Hey, don’t sell Foggy short,” you snorted. “He does all the real lawyering while you  stand there and look pretty.” 

A sly smirk spread across Matt’s face. “Pretty, huh?” 

“Goodnight, Josie,” you said, trying to hurry away, but Matt’s hold on your arm remained. Standing this close, his laugh vibrated through you. 

You walked out together into the chilly February evening. The brisk air bit at your bare arms, having forgotten your jacket in the office. You tried not to shiver. 

“Here,” Matt said. He slipped off his suit jacket and wrapped it around your shoulders. 

“Thanks.” 

You tried not to think about how the fabric smelled like him- like cedarwood and leather. 

Matt kept his hold on your arm, less to guide himself and more to keep you from tripping on something. The heat of his fingers on your skin radiated throughout your body. You tried to keep your breathing normal, but it was like the air was getting thin. That last drink really was a bad idea. 

By the time you reached the door of your apartment, you were sure your flesh was burning up. You desperately dug through your purse, feeling the dread build up more and more as you searched. 

“Shit,” you muttered. 

“Everything okay?” Matt asked, brows furrowed in a way that was far too adorable for you to handle at the moment. 

“I, um,” you gulped. “I can’t find my keys. I must have left them at the office. Damnit.” You smacked your hand against the door, hitting it a little harder than you meant to and wincing.

Matt took your hand in both of his, holding you steady. “Hey, it’s okay.” 

“No it isn’t. You walked me all the way here and now I can’t get in and it’s too late to try to call me landlord and-” Your intoxicated brain spiraled into all of the things you’d done wrong that evening that led you to this moment. 

Getting drunk with the man you were in love with being numero uno. 

You started to hyperventilate. 

Matt put your hand against his chest so you could feel the slow and steady rhythm of his heart as he breathed. He took a deep breath, indicating for you to do the same. 

“Sweetheart, it’s okay, just calm down,” he said softly. “Can you do that?” 

You closed your eyes, took a few breaths, and nodded. 

“Sorry,” you said, sheepishly dodging his gaze. “Sometimes drunk-brain turns into anxiety-panic-brain and I have moments like that.” 

“You don’t have to apologize,” he smiled. Matt let go of your hand but kept hold of your arm. “Why don’t we just go to my place? It’s just a few blocks away. We can pick up your keys tomorrow.” 

Your heart leaped into your throat. 

“Like… spend the night?”

Matt gave you that famous smile. “I’m flattered, Y/N, but I’m afraid you would be taking advantage of me,” he teased. 

You shoved him playfully. “Shut up.” 

-

It wasn’t like you hadn’t been to Matt’s apartment before, but this felt different. Maybe it was that horrible, horrible drink still making your brain a little fuzzy, but the neon lights of the billboard outside lit everything in a beautiful, color-changing glow. 

The two of you sat on Matt’s couch and talked for what felt like hours. About nothing, about everything, about you, about him. 

“So I go every year now to commemorate the occasion,” you said confidently

“You have an anniversary for falling off of a swan boat in Central Park?” He snickered. 

“It was a formative moment in my childhood!” 

Matt held up his hands. “Okay, fair enough.” 

“When’s the last time you just took a walk?” You asked, leaning a little closer. “You know, stopped and smelled the roses? In all the time I’ve known you, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you slow down.” 

Matt swallowed and didn’t answer. You had a point. 

“You have to let yourself live, Matt. You can’t go around trying to save everyone.” You leaned closer, eyes falling to his lips. 

Matt drew in, unable to stop himself. How long had he thought about this? How long had he thought about telling you? When he thought about slowing down, he wanted to do it with you. You made him want to want to have a life. 

He pulled away. 

“I think you should probably get some sleep.”

You jerked back. 

“Right,” you said. “Thanks.”

What the hell had you been thinking? 

“I’ll sleep out here,” Matt said. He stood up and went to a cupboard in the hall. 

“Matt, you are not giving up your bed because I forgot my keys.”

“Too late, I already grabbed clean sheets.” 

“Matthew-”

“Y/N, really, it’s fine.” He said and from his tone, you knew there was no winning. Besides, you were embarrassed enough. Did you really just try to kiss him? You didn’t even feel drunk anymore, which you didn’t know if that made it better or worse. 

You hurried into Matt’s room and tried not to think about the fact that you were sleeping in his bed, under his covers, blanketing you in his scent. 

This whole night was starting to feel like a mistake. 

Matt listened to your heartbeat and felt the heat rushing to your face, kicking himself for making you feel like you’d done something wrong. He’d have to talk to you in the morning, when you were both sober, so you could have no doubt that what he wanted to say was true. 

You both went to sleep with butterflies in your stomach and thoughts of each other in your dreams. 

-

You woke up to a killer headache and the smell of coffee. You felt the sheets around you. Silk. Definitely not yours. 

The memory of the night before started to come back to you. 

Oh. God. 

You were at Matt’s apartment. 

You slept in his bed. 

You tried to kiss him. 

And he was outside the sliding door, right now. 

The floor was cool against your bare feet, your legs shaking as you tried to walk silently to the door. You slid it open just a crack. Just to see where he was. 

Matt was walking around the kitchen, most of his frame hidden by the open fridge door. 

You stepped out of his bedroom. If you could just sneak to the door…

“Morning,” he greeted cheerily, closing the fridge door and giving you a bright smile. “I made you some coffee.” Matt held up a steaming mug with a slight chuckle. “I thought you might need it.” 

You winced. “Right. Thanks.” 

Matt could feel your skin getting warmer, as well as the churning of nausea going through your head. 

“How are you feeling?” 

“Super.” 

Matt grimaced. “Yeah, I felt the same when I woke up. Hence, coffee.” He took a drink from his own mug. 

There was a long, unbroken, and horrifically awkward silence between you. Why couldn’t you have one of those hangovers that obliterate any memory from the night before? Why couldn’t you get the image of him pulling away from you out of your head? Why did you have to try to kiss him? Why did you have to ruin everything?

“I should go.” 

Matt blew out a low sigh. “I’ll walk you home.” He moved to stand, but you put a hand on his arm to stop him. 

“I think I should go by myself,” you said quickly. If you stayed any longer, you would start to cry and you couldn’t do that in front of him. 

“Y/N-” Matt started. 

“Thank you for letting me stay, but I have some stuff I want to get done before we have to get to the office.” 

Matt heard your heart racing. He could hear the edge in your voice. 

He’d hurt you and he hated himself for it. He wanted the chance to fix things, but at the moment, he knew that anything he said would just make it worse. 

“I’ll see you there, then,” he said quietly. 

“Yeah, uhuh, right. Bye, Matt.” You scurried out of the door, forgetting your jacket and your purse but being far too embarrassed to go back in for them. As long as you had your keys, you would be fine. A fresh change of clothes and a cold shower. That’s what you needed. 

Once you forced yourself to get ready for work, you actually had to go to work. Which meant facing Karen- who knew all too well your crush on your boss. And worse, it meant facing Matt again. Maybe you could get away with avoiding him. 

You could not. 

When you got to the office, Matt was there, perched on the edge of your desk with your bag and jacket in hand. 

“You, uh, forgot these,” he said, giving you an awkward half-smile. 

Karen sat at her adjacent desk and raised a brow. 

You took your things and put them on the desk, feeling that all too familiar rush of blush to your face. Thank god he couldn’t see it. 

Matt nodded and walked to his office, letting his hand graze your shoulder as he went, hoping it would be a comfort, but when he heard your heartbeat rise, he realized it was probably a mistake. 

How could he show you that what happened last night, the reason he pulled away, was not what you were thinking? 

The day passed agonizingly slowly, but at least Foggy and Matt kept busy enough that you were able to avoid him for the most part. You couldn’t bear the pitying half-smile he gave you so you made sure to stay with Karen, looking over cases and organizing facts about clients. 

Matt was going mad, flipping through papers and listening to Foggy read off statements. All he could think about was the hurt in your voice and how he was the reason for it. 

“Uh, earth to Matt,” Foggy said, snapping his fingers. “You there buddy?” 

Matt swallowed and nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, sorry. What were you saying?” 

Foggy leaned over the desk with a slow, teasing smirk. “I think I know what’s going on.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You finally made a move on Y/N. Didn’t you?” 

Now it was Matt’s turn to blush. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“Oh come on, Matt,” Foggy exclaimed. “I saw it from the minute she wandered through our doors. You like her.” He poked Matt’s shoulder, prompting him to shrug away and stand. This, of course, was all the answer Foggy needed. “Oh my God you do like her!” 

“Foggy-”

“So what happened? Did you guys go on a date?” Foggy raised a brow. “Did you do more than go on a date?”

Matt went silent. 

Foggy’s jaw dropped. “Oh, did she reject you?” 

Matt ran a hand down his face. “That’s not what happened.”

“Don’t tell me that you rejected her.”

“That’s not what…” Matt grimaced. “It wasn’t like that.” Because of course, he liked you and of course, under different circumstances, he would have liked to do a lot more than kiss you, but he couldn’t unless he knew that it was really what you wanted and not what the liquor was telling you to want. 

“Well, whatever it was like, you better fix it,” Foggy said, walking to the door. “Because you do not want to let that one get away, my friend.” 

The rest of the day passed painfully. You were avoiding him and he was trying to figure out how to make you stop avoiding him. It didn’t help that Foggy kept giving both of you painfully obvious hints, worst of all being when he asked Karen to help him run an errand, clearing his throat loudly as he passed Matt’s door. 

You kept your head down, looking over client files and incident reports. Anything to take your mind off of the way his arm felt around your waist. His breath on your cheek. You came across a file that had a recorded statement. Shit. it must have gotten put with your things by mistake. 

You swallowed, stood, and made your way to Matt’s office. 

“I think this is probably for you,” you said softly, standing in his doorway. “I don’t usually listen to the statements.” You swallowed again, your throat feeling dry. “I just look into who you tell me to.” 

“You do more than that,” Matt said, shaking his head. Why did you always downplay your importance? Could you see how much you meant to this place? To him? “Y/N, stay for a second. Shut the door please.” He took off his glasses.

You froze under his unfocused gaze, feeling him watch you in his own way. 

“Is something wrong?” You gulped. 

Matt gave you a small smile. “You’re the one who has been avoiding me all day.” He motioned for you to sit beside him on the edge of his desk. “I think we should probably talk about last night.”

“W-what… I don’t…” You stammered, staying where you were. “I didn’t think there was anything to talk about.” 

Matt raised a brow, motioning again to the spot beside him. 

You hung your head and shuffled to stand beside him. 

“Now,” he said softly, “will you please talk to me? It’s been driving me insane all day not being around you.” 

“What do you want me to say, Matt?” You sighed. Emotion crept its way into your tone. Embarrassment. Heartbreak. “Things took a turn. We stopped. We went to bed. What else is there?” 

“What else is there?” Matt huffed, turning to fully face you. His hand reached for your arm. “Y/N, I did what I did because you were drunk. I didn’t think-”

“It’s okay, Matt.” You didn’t look at his face., at his dark eyes that managed to see you better than anyone ever had. “You don’t have to explain. You were just being kind. You let me stay because I was too drunk to open my own damn door. And I appreciate that, but please,” you grimaced at the memory of him pulling away from you. You shrugged away his hand. “Please just drop it.” 

You moved to leave.

Matt stood in your way. 

“I won’t just drop it,” he said, desperation in his tone. “Don’t you get that I can’t?” He grabbed you by the shoulders, not letting you go this time. “Y/N, I can’t stop thinking about last night. I can’t stop thinking about you.” 

You blinked. “W-What?”

This wasn’t real. This was another trick of your mind. Surely you weren’t still drunk. 

“I have wanted a night like last night since you first walked through those doors,” he admitted, listening to your heart as it started to race. He gave you a small smile, hoping to calm you down. To convince you that what he was saying was the truth. “But I had to make sure that it’s what you really wanted. Not because of some awful drink I dared you to drink or because you felt like you owed me.” 

“Matt…” You trailed off. Couldn’t he tell? Couldn’t he sense that you’d wanted the same thing ever since you first saw him? 

“I just,” he sighed, “I need you to know that.” 

You didn’t know what to say. Any words that formed on your tongue died before they could make it out of your lips. 

Matt heard your heart pounding. He heard your fingers tugging on the bottom of your shirt- a nervous tick he’d noticed your first day. He let his head fall. He’d made things worse. 

“I’ll see you in the morning,” he said softly, grabbing his cane and heading for the door. 

You didn’t think. Thinking had so far gotten you nowhere. Instead, you grabbed his arm, pulled him back around, and crashed your lips into his. 

Matt stumbled back in surprise but only for a moment. His hands found your face, cupping your cheeks gently as he pulled you closer, deepening the kiss. 

Both of you stepped, him forward and you back, his body pinning you against his desk, his arms moving around to hold you up against him. Your hands traveled up his chest and into his hair. 

This was happening. 

You pulled away, resting your forehead against his. 

“This is happening,” you gasped, unable to stop yourself. 

Matt just grinned. He gave you that ridiculous, intoxicating, devilish grin. And it melted you. 

“Do you want it to keep happening?” He asked cheekily. 

You didn’t answer and pulled him back to you.

#fandom-imagines-stories #daredevil #marvel daredevil #daredevil x reader #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock #ooooooooh my god #the feels #it was so cute #it was so sweet #my poor little heart

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Okay guys, next one will be SUPERNATURAL !

I can't wait to share my favourites fics and authors with you, I already have a few ideas so, stay tuned~

Have a lovely day everyone~

Val 🌸

Hi everyone!

I just wanted to simply thank you all.

This modest sideblog has reached the amazing number of 100+ followers.

THANK YOU!

I'm so happy you enjoy reading, as much as me, and discovering new stories and authors.

To thank you by giving you a new Masterlist, which fandom would you like to see?

I promise it will come out during early February (after I move to my new flat).

I wish you all a lovely day everyone!

Val 🌸

#untilnextchapter #tumblr polls #yes #i'm so happy #i cannot not share them here

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Seperation

A/N: When Athos leaves for a dangerous mission to protect Aramis and you, his sister, Aramis worries a lot about his friend. You feel guilty for his suffering, being the main reason Athos went away in the first place. I've been meaning to include Athos in these stories for a while now. I hope you enjoy. :)

Your brother had fallen asleep on a chair.

His hat was half-covering his face, his arms crossed over his chest. It couldn't be very comfortable, the way the back of the chair was digging into his spine. But he couldn't help it - he was exhausted.

From time to time, you were looking up from the tissue you were embroidering, sending him a long look to make sure he wasn't about to slip off the wood and slam on the ground. You'd told him multiple times, you'd stay awake in his place and wait for Athos to return, you'd even promised to go wake him up and tell him, when he'd arrived. But Aramis wouldn't hear a word of it. With a tired smile he'd insisted that he would stay up and wait and after a while he'd stopped responding altogether, simply guarding that tired smile and looking out of the window into the cold night.

Three weeks before, Athos had left for a dangerous mission, Treville had originally intended to give to your brother. You'd been present, when a fight had arisen between the different parties. After Treville had ordered Aramis to travel to Spain to escort a French nobelman, Athos had gone pale and demanded the mission for himself. You'd given him a funny look, quickly followed by your brother who was not at all amused by this turn of events. Treville had established that it was a one-man-job and that Athos, being the senior to Aramis, had the right to take over the mission if he so wished. Athos had insisted to do exactly that and Aramis had responded with an expression of hurt, confusion and concern that had made Treville fumble around uncomfortably.

You knew that France and Spain were at war, but you did not immediately understand what had driven both, your brother and Athos, to act the way they had. Until you'd overheard a conversation, the night before Athos' departure.

"Do you really believe, I will allow you to go into a war zone all alone, while (Y/N) worries herself sick here?" You'd come to a halt in the courtyard of the garison, the hairs on your neck standing up. Looking up, you'd seen your brother watch Athos pack his travel bag from the dark corner of his friend's room, his face in shadows.

"That is not fair. Do you believe that I will worry less?" Your brother had lowered his head as if in pain, his voice rough and quiet.

"Aramis," Athos had taken him firmly by the shoulders and your brother had never looked smaller nor younger in your eyes, "you are my sworn brother, you know that, but more importantly you are the brother of (Y/N), you have a responsibility towards her, she needs you! And as long as I can provide you stay alive for her, I will do my best to keep it that way."

Athos had gently squeezed your brother's shoulders, before returning to his backpack to finish packing. Your brother had remained silent for a while, gazing at the floor with empty eyes. Then he'd quietly left the room. He'd closed the door so gently behind himself, that it had broken your heart.

Athos and Porthos were the brothers Aramis had never had. Upon meeting them, he'd learned what it meant to be protected and supported by someone like himself - while also getting to know the stubbornness of that protection and the frustration that could come with it. Athos had decided to protect him (and you) and there was nothing your brother could do about it.

Throughout the three weeks of Athos' absence, Aramis hadn't really been himself. He'd been quiet and distant, working hard and sleeping little to not at all. You and Porthos had tried everything to get him out of this haze, but not even the idea of a night out in the tavern had lured him out into the bright side of day.

You'd started to feel incredibly guilty for the state he was in. In the end, you had been the reason for Athos' decision to leave in the place of your brother. You'd heard them talk about it after all. And while you couldn't be more grateful to him for having spared you weeks of worry and fear, you were feeling terrible due to your brother now having to go through these exact emotions. You watched your brother suffer and died of shame.

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

One night during the three weeks of Athos' absence, you got up to get a glass of water, only to find Aramis sitting by the window, the moon in his face. The guilt immediately surged in you, like a wave washing over you on the shore. You sat down beside him and looked at his sleep-deprived face. He tried to smile at you, but that only made your heart hurt more. You took his hand and asked a serious question. "Do you want me to go?"

He quirked an eyebrow, allowing a hint of the normal Aramis to trace his features. "Go where?"

You swallowed and looked at his hand in yours, turning it around in your own to tickle his palm. "Go away. Go back home or something. Just away from here."

He closed his hand firmly, halting your fingers, and pulled rather harshly, making you gasp. The quirked-brow Aramis made room for another Aramis that you knew very well: the angry one. Furious brown eyes bore into your own. Slightly penched forward, he looked for an answer in your expression.

"Why would you say something like that?" Before the two of you had whispered, feeling it appropriate for night time. Now, he spoke with a voice loud enough to cut through the darkness.

You tried to pull your hand back, but he only closed his own tighter around yours, informing you without a trace of doubt that he did not like your suggestion in the slightest. Tears sprang to your eyes.

"I'm sorry, but look at you!!" You had not expected to grow angry yourself - neither had he, judging by the way his eyes grew in size. "This is my fault!! If I weren't here, if you didn't have to take care of me, your friends wouldn't opt in to take on missions you could easily manage yourself. You wouldn't have to worry about Athos, you'd be free to do whatever you like, but I am... holding you back."

Speechless, Aramis stared at you, too disbelieving to really understand the reality of your words. A tear started its journey down your cheek and you violently ripped your hand out of Aramis' grasp to brush it off. His features softened, sadness dripping from his every pore. He reached for your arm again, but you pulled it out of his reach, sniffing against your will.

When he spoke again, you could hear a small smile tainting his words, your antics quite getting to him. "You silly little goose, what are you talking about? You're not holding me back in the least. You keep me sane."

Surprised, you turned your head to look at him again, tears blurring your view.

Despite the rings under his eyes, he lifted his eyebrows, nodding with a meaningful smile on his features. "Duh. Does that really surprise you? Imagine me having to deal with things on my own! Yes, you need me, but the feeling is mutual! Who would I be without you, (Y/N)? We're a full package. A package of two!" His shoulder pushed against yours and you couldn't help but let out a huff.

"And Athos?" You asked, looking up at your brother's tired face.

Aramis hummed slightly and lowered his chin. "Don't worry about that. It's my problem. I am always concerned about him. Sometimes I get the feeling that he puts himself in dangerous situations on purpose, as if he wished... but that has nothing to do with you being here, (Y/N). I'm sorry if I made you feel that way, I just..."

He sighed and you looked on, nodding. "I get it. This is exactly how I feel, when you are gone."

Soft eyes landed on you again and when he reached for your hand this time, you took it and put your head on his shoulder. You stayed like this for a while, before he got up, pulling you with him and not hesitating for a second, before grabbing you and throwing you over his shoulder. You squeaked, before reprimanding him for disturbing the peace of night which he did not take very seriously - possibly your giggles weren't very convincing.

He threw you on your bed and wished you a good night, apparently believing he could just go back to his seat on the window sill to keep staring at the moon. As if he would ever let you get away with something like that!

When he leaned down to kiss your forehead, you threw your arms around him and wrestled him down on the bed, clinging to him and wrapping your legs around him to give him no means to shake you off, before tickling him wherever you could reach.

At first he tried to stay all stoic - as he often did - hurrumping and twitching, but allowing no other reaction to escape him. When you managed to weasle your hand under his arm, though, he collapsed and for the first time since Athos had left for Spain you'd heard him let out real, deep, whole-hearted laughter that did both of you some good.

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

So now he was asleep and Athos was supposed to arrive at the garison soon.

You thought back to all the times, you had been in a similar situation, walking up and down in your apartment to pass the time until your brother would come home. And when he'd finally entered, all the times your brother had tried to remain standing upright when you had thrown yourself at him, almost suffocating him with your hugs.

You startled when a feather tickled behind your ear. Turning around in lightspeed, you were met with a very tired but relieved looking Athos, the feathered hat in his hand. He opened his arms as if to say: here I am.

A great joy took over you and you quickly threw your arms around his neck and buried your face at his shoulder, the smell of leather, alcohol and earth crawling into your nose. He cradled and weighed you gently, sweet as ever he was to you.

If you had to describe the way you felt about Athos, you would never say that he was like a brother to you - Aramis would grow terribly jealous. Aside from that, he simply didn't feel like a brother. Athos was more like a godfather. He was wise and calm and sometimes you felt like his apprentice, someone he could guide and influence a little in life.

He gently removed himself from your hug and put a hand on your shoulder, moving his chin in the direction of your brother. "How is he doing?"

You winced, putting on an unhappy expression. "He's barely been sleeping."

Athos huffed softly at that and put down his backpack. "I see. He's always been a little dramatic."

You watched with a smile as Athos approached the sleeping Aramis carefully. He crouched down next to him and looked at his half-hidden face, before looking back at you and nodding as if he understood better now what you'd meant with 'he's barely been sleeping'.

In order to wake him, Athos started squeezing one of his knees. It didn't take a full minute, before your brother startled awake and moved to hold onto Athos' hand with both of his. Athos raised one brow in greeting, while Aramis, judging by the way he was looking at Athos, was torn between amusement, relief and anger.

"Stop that." He said between gritted teeth.

"Hello to you, too." Athos replied with a calm smile on his lips.

"I'm serious."

"Sometimes a bit too much, even."

"Athos!"

Smiling to himself, Athos did remove his hand from Aramis' knee and, barely having stood up again, was met with a full on hug from his part. Aramis was clinging to him just the littlest bit, with his eyes closed and his nose buried at Athos' shoulder.

It always moved you to see your brother get emotional and a little vulnerable and Athos was no different from you. He held him close and weighed him just the way he had done with you. They didn't say a word and you had to swallow, trying to keep your cool as much as possible. After a while though, Athos lifted his brow again.

"If you are falling asleep on me, I will not hesitate to drop you."

"I'm not."

Athos sent you a meaningful look.

"Let's get you to bed, shall we?"

Aramis agreed slurredly and let go off his friend, only to almost stumble over the chair he'd been sitting on. You had to stifle a laugh. Athos shrugged. "I suppose, we need a hand here, (Y/N)."

Somehow you both managed to get one of Aramis' sleep-heavy arms over your shoulders and to drag him to your apartment and to tug him in, without dropping him more than once.

Proudly, you put your hands on your hips. "Finally, he will get some sleep again."

Athos looked at you in the half-dark room and remained silent before quietly saying: "I think Spain would have been hard on him without you."

You tried to meet Athos' gaze in the darkness, but he only squeezed your shoulder one last time, before turning to leave the room.

And Aramis was the dramatic one? You shook your head slightly, before pulling Aramis' blanket up some more and placing a kiss on his forehead.

When you went to bed, you started to ponder the ever same idea again. To prevent further painful seperations and sleepless nights, there was only one thing you had to do: become a musketeer.

#thorin-is-a-cuddler #the three musketeers #athos #aramis #aramis sister #sister!reader #ooooooooh my f*cking god #ooooooooh the feels #ooooooooh my god #and the use of vincent cassel athos for the gif #i love vincent cassel athos so much #this version of the three musketeers #i live for it #well written #one word: perfection

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Hi everyone!

I just wanted to simply thank you all.

This modest sideblog has reached the amazing number of 100+ followers.

THANK YOU!

I'm so happy you enjoy reading, as much as me, and discovering new stories and authors.

To thank you by giving you a new Masterlist, which fandom would you like to see?

I promise it will come out during early February (after I move to my new flat).

I wish you all a lovely day everyone!

Val 🌸

#untilnextchapter #tumblr polls #last day to vote

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Clean Break

A/N: Enjoy. :) 

Title: Clean Break

Summary: If there’s one thing Doctor House is an expert on, it’s his daughter.

Words: 2106

“Nice break you have there.” Doctor Wilson hummed as he stared intently at the x-ray image, presenting a young girl’s broken kneecap. He subconsciously twisted his mouth, clearly seeing the fractures on the bone. “How’d you manage it, again?”

You shut your eyes, attempting to sink back deeper into the pillows of the hospital bed. “Fell.”

Wilson rose both brows and glanced at you over his shoulder. “You don’t crack your patellar by falling. Unless it was from a cliff.”

You absently waved the hand with the IV stuck in. “Jamie dropped me. Fell on the stage and then rolled off.”

A corner of his lips rose, though it really shouldn’t have. You were pressing the button for more morphine every ten minutes, and you’d only been in the hospital less than an hour.

You looked quite the picture, lying there among the crisp white sheets, hair thrown in a messy bun, frown lines painting your forehead as you squeezed your eyes shut. Your bad leg was bent slightly in front of you, and he sympathetically winced as his eyes fixed to it.

Broken bones were painful enough, but when they were misaligned, even if only a little, it was a bit  less manageable. Your knee was already swelling and bruising, and he could see your good leg bouncing lightly, likely from the pain and stress of it all.

“Your dad’ll be here soon,” he said as a hopeful way of switching the conversation.

You made a gargled noise in the back of your throat, bouncing your leg a little more, and Wilson stepped around the bed to place a hand on it.

“You alright?” he asked, gently brushing a strand of hair from your rosy forehead.

“No,” you replied, your voice strained. “It really hurts.”

“I know, sweetheart.” He reached for one of the x-ray pictures again, his hand rubbing circles on your knee. He was only in the room because your father had been busy. Of course he’d been told, but after your assurance that you were fine with Wilson for the moment, he’d gone back to whichever time-sensitive case he was dealing with today with the intention of coming to see you after your x-rays.

But he wouldn’t have liked you to be alone, and Wilson had been the same. He was a cancer doctor, yes, but he’d seen enough broken bones to console the person who owned said broken bone. Especially when that person was you.

He sighed again and looked at your scrunched up face, noticing the lone tear streaking down your cheek. You were a tough kid, but you were only seventeen, and as far as he knew you’d never gotten to the point of needing medical attention like this.

He stood to his feet and gave the IV bag a once over, turning his head when he heard the door slide open and the unmistakable sound of a cane hitting the ground.

“Good morning, class!” House said, a grin on his face. “Today’s lesson: why dancing is a complete waste of time and bones.”

Wilson rolled his eyes and you wore a faint smirk for a brief moment.

“Not now,” Wilson said, giving his friend a look, to which the man promptly ignored. He leaned his cane against the bed and picked up both x-ray images, glancing between them.

You kept your eyes shut, wondering if either doctor would notice if you upped your dosage of morphine. Again.

“Broken patellar. Misaligned bones. Probably fixed by open reduction-internal fixation…” He was muttering to himself, but he lifted his eyes to look at Wilson all the same.

Wilson nodded. “I assume so. It’s not bad enough for anything else, but not quite good enough to leave it as it is. I’ll grab a surgeon on my way out.”

“We love grabbing surgeons.” House bobbed his head and with one last glance at the pictures tossed them at the end of the bed. He looked at you, still swallowing back your cries, he could tell, and limped around to Wilson’s side of the bed, reaching for the IV bags.

“Has she been given anything other than morphine?”

“Tylenol,” Wilson replied. “There’s codeine-”

“Bad reactions to codeine,” House said. “Leave it for now. With any luck she’ll be in surgery soon.”

Wilson nodded. “Right. I’m going to head back to work now. Need me, page me.” He gave one last pat to your good leg and exited the room, leaving father and daughter in a silence only broken after three seconds when you whimpered.

House sighed and sat on the edge of the bed, peering at your swollen knee. He gingerly placed his large hands on either side of it, not missing your hiss of pain. “You alright with the idea of surgery?” he asked gently. Of course you had no choice on whether you had it or not, but you were upset, and for as much as he was Doctor Gregory House, if there was one thing he was an expert in more than anything, it was his daughter.

“Yeah,” you replied, your voice tight. “Just want it done quickly so it can stop hurting.”

“There’ll still be pain,” he told you. “And a long healing time, and an annoying dad who’s gonna have you on house arrest for the next few weeks.”

That garnered a small smile - his intention - and he let his own slip onto his lips.

“No dancing for a while, either.”

That caused your smile to disappear, and he’d known it would. Dancing was his doctoring. You adored it. At first, he’d thought it a little petty, but your mother had signed you up for it as a toddler without his knowing, and you’d fallen in love pretty quickly. And who was he now to deprive you of your passion after ten years? He wouldn’t let anyone get close to taking being a doctor from him.

“How’s the other leg?” he asked, moving his hands to your good one, seeing a few small yellowing bruises but nothing to feel concerned about.

“Fine,” you responded lowly. Your eyes were still shut.

House peered at the kneecap, slipping a hand around and tickling the underside in a small moment of impishness that had him grinning when you jerked your leg and sent him a glare.

“Seems to be working,” he said, “what about the feet-”

“Fine! They’re fine!” You reached for your father’s hand, amusement just about dripping into your tone as you attempted to give him a warning stare. House genuinely smiled and pat your leg, moving around to the other side of the bed once his hand had been let go.

You seemed to sober quickly. You sank back against the pillows and stared aimlessly at the ceiling.

House looked at your leg again, noticing the bouncing of the left one as Wilson had, and drew his lips together in a tight line. He knew you were in pain - quite a lot of it, in fact, despite the high dosage of morphine - but he could tell that your current silence and pinched expression wasn’t totally to do with the agony in your leg.

He leant his cane against the wall and sat on the edge of the bed, turning slightly towards you. “What is it?” he asked, skillfully weaving a touch of care into his voice.

When you didn’t respond, the frown lines on your forehead only deepening, he sighed and tilted his head for a moment. In times like this, he often had a nagging thought in the back of his mind that made him question whether your mother would have been better at this kind of stuff.

The answer to that was probably.

But he’d made do with himself for years, now.

Somehow, he maneuvered himself to lie beside you on the hospital bed, his own legs stretched out in front of him, head resting against the wall, back supported by the pillows, and hands intertwined on his stomach. You remained as you were, staring, but after a moment of silence and House’s absent tapping with his fingers, you shifted your back until you were wedged quite neatly into his side, your hands balled into fists in front of you and your head leaning slightly on his chest.

“You know, those red spots up there’re from a forty-year-old man. Coughed so hard he exploded.”

Your eyebrows furrowed and you turned your head to stare up at him. He didn’t move his eyes from the red spots, and you turned to look, too.

“Yeah, right,” you said with a hint of a smile.

“No, seriously. This room couldn’t be used for months.”

There was something about House that made it terribly difficult to figure out if he was being sarcastic or if he was genuinely being serious. Quite proudly, you believed you had a little more experience with that matter, but there were still times where you were completely stuck.

Thankfully, a moment later, while you were analysing your father’s face for the smallest sign he might be telling the truth, he looked down at you, and smiled.

You rolled your eyes, but you were smiling, too.

House pat the top of your head. “What is it, Y/N?” he repeated.

You remained quiet, leg still bouncing, but you pursed your lips and sighed deeply a moment later. “It’s stupid,” you told him.

House rose both eyebrows. “I deal with stupid every day. Hit me.”

Your eyes flicked to your leg and you bit your lip. “I just… feel pathetic… for being upset about my leg,” you started, a little awkwardly. Though you were closer to your father than anyone, the both of you weren’t one for heartfelt talks. “I have a lump in my throat and I feel like crying because I know I’m not gonna be able to dance for months. And then I- I see you… and your leg… and, Dad, you had to give up so much because of your leg, and that was for forever, not for a couple months. I- I feel… ungrateful, in a way, because I know there are people out there who have it worse.” You ended your words with a deep breath, feeling another course of pain shoot through your knee, and squeezed your eyes shut, turning your face into his shirt.

He glanced down at you and sighed, looking at the clock for a moment. He knew the surgeon who’d likely be performing the operation, though he supposed it depended on who Wilson grabbed. It wasn’t that he trusted him - he didn’t trust anyone - but he trusted the fact he’d do a good job.

Blinking, he shrugged half-heartedly. “Well, first off, don’t sell yourself short,” he said. “Your little throat lump is probably there for more reasons than feeling upset about dance. Second, don’t compare yourself to me, Y/N. Yeah, we both currently have bum legs - isn’t that a little freaky, by the way? - and, yeah, mine’ll always be like this and yours’ll get better… but you wouldn’t tell someone who’s been diagnosed with treatable cancer to suck it up ‘cause there’re people out there with untreatable cancer, would you? No. Everyone has a different ‘worse thing that’s ever happened to me’, and each thing is valid. You understand?”

You did understand, and it made you feel better to have heard him. He’d never been the greatest at quelling your overwhelming emotions, but he was still the best, and you wouldn’t want anyone else. His uncaring, unfeeling nature was the shield he used around people who weren’t you, but when you were alone and together, he let it down. There were still parts of him that were the same - he was rude, sarcastic, arrogant - but he was more of a dad when there was no one else around.

A brief knock sounded at the door, followed by it opening and a male voice. “Uhh- Y/N House?”

Both you and House looked up to see a man they recognised as a surgeon, and the latter immediately moved to stand to his feet, grasping his cane as he went. He didn’t go far, though, staying by the side of your bed.

“Yes,” you said, and the surgeon smiled, giving a nod in your father’s direction.

“Doctor House,” he greeted, picking up the x-ray sheets, “your daughter seems to have quite the break, here.”

“Well, fix her, then, surgeon,” House told him, forcing a sarcastic smile, and you barely refrained from rolling your eyes, turning your head to stare up at him.

He winked.

You felt better.

And you understood.

House Masterpost

#cas-kingdom #house md x reader #house md #house #house x reader #dr house #doctor house x reader #gregory house #gregory house x reader #sweetheart #i needed this

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Can I have “I can’t sleep, can I sleep here?” with Merlin? Soft cuddles with baby boy in his tiny af bed. Thank you!!!

Sure! Hope you enjoy!💖

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Sleepless Nights and Magical Moments

You can't sleep and end up going to Merlin. He has just the cure for you.

#244 “I can’t sleep, can I sleep here?”

It was one of those nights that everything seemed to make you on edge. The creaking of the house, the sounds of people outside through the open windows, and the occasional blowing of wind caused your mind to be wide awake.

You were staying with Gaius in Camelot, training under him as a physician like Merlin. However, aforementioned man was here before you, so he got the room and tiny bed all to himself. Which you would rather prefer right now because the proximity you had to the front door was starting to freak you out.

Not to mention, Gauis made you read a book on venomous creatures before bed, not all of them appealing to look at.

So, needless to say, you needed some comfort and a distraction. You needed it right now.

"Merlin? Are you awake?" Your voice was hushed as you knocked on the door to his room. A few moments passed by before it opened with a slight squeak.

You were greeted with a tired-looking Merlin, with hair every which way.

"I am now...what's wrong?" He asked while rubbing at his eye with the sleeve of his shirt. You looked back to make sure Gauis was still asleep before looking back at him.

“I can’t sleep, can I sleep here?” You said shyly, pulling at your own clothes. Normally, it wouldn't be that big of a deal, but you guys sort of had a thing going. It was undefined, but more than friends was definitely part of the deal.

Still, he went red in the face, looking from you to back at his tiny bed.

"I think I can make space." Merlin said with that typical smile and little laugh. You thanked him as he moved to allow you into his room.

The transition happened quickly with him climbing back into bed so you could curl up with him. His bed was tiny, barely room for him. So, you were practically on top of Merlin as he had an arm around your shoulders to keep you from falling. Both of you were hesitant and shy, and you could hear how fast his heart was beating as your head lay on his chest just below his chin.

"So...you had a nightmare?" He asked, and you could feel his gentle breath on the top of your head when he spook.

You shuffled a little closer to him, feeling yourself sliding.

"Sort of. I just couldn't sleep...just felt on edge." You tried to explain, moving your hand to his chest as well. Merlin shifted slightly to give you more room.

"It's okay...I'm just fine where I am." You said to him, face red.

"Oh...I'm glad." Merlin stuttered with his words, but he eventually was able to express that he was happy to have you so close to him. In fact, the gentle cuddles he was getting here was something he didn't know he needed.

"Are you feeling better?" Merlin asked, wondering if you'd be able to sleep now.

"Here with you? I think I'll be just fine." You told him before burying your head in the crook of his neck. The poor boy stopped breathing for a second, but your words gave confidence.

His hand soon found your back and he rubbed it gently. For some reason, there was a warmth emanating from it that lulled you to sleep.

It was magical.

You soon found yourself falling asleep in the crook of his embrace. That tiny bed holding you both throughout the night as Merlin himself found peace from your presence. You may not know it now, but he helped you more than ever.

When morning came, Merlin was glad to see that his magic gave you a nightmare free night.

#mycheese-tasted-like-applepie #first things first #i love your pseudo #i needed to share this #bbc merlin #merlin #merlin bbc #bbc merlin x reader #merlin x reader #puppy power #sweetie