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creepswrites · 1 year

Note

Dear, writter

May i've a request for Thomas hewitt, Bubba Sawyer,bo Sinclair, Lester Sinclair, and Vince Sinclair, With a hot wife fem reader, I want to see their life being a father to a hot fem reader. Because that is my dream. 💫Fluff💫

Please.... Your writing is so gorgeous 💋💋 master 🌹🌹🌹

Thank you so much

From your followers:

@kawaistrawberry21

awww i'm glad you like my writing!! hopefully you enjoy this :D

SLASHERS with a F! S/O who is their hot wife

THOMAS HEWITT

Everyone in town was shocked when you and Thomas got married

Thomas included but he never said anything about it

His family thought you were way out of his league, Hoyt was never afraid to comment on this to your face

But you love Thomas, he was a good man

So when he'd finally, finally, proposed to you, of course you'd said yes

When he found out you were having his child? He was over the moon

Luda May was almost as overjoyed, already making arrangements for the baby's room, making clothes, etc

She couldn't wait to be a grandmother and Thomas couldn't wait to be a father

When the baby's due date was getting closer, you could tell Thomas was nervous about if the baby would come out looking like him

But you reassured him that, no matter what your baby looked like, you would love it the same way you loved him

He was good with the baby, so gentle and patient, always happy to help when it cried

If Hoyt ever tried to give either of you a hard time, Thomas actually violently defended you, sometimes tossing Hoyt across the room with one arm

He'd never let anything hurt you or your baby

BUBBA SAWYER

Like Thomas, everyone was surprised when you and Bubba got married

Though his family were far more excited about it! After all, their brother was quite the catch

You got along well with his family even before you moved in, with Chop Top and Nubbins always commenting to Bubba how lucky he was to have such a hot wife

It always made your husband get all flustered, babbling soft nonsense. He was cute

When you got pregnant, Bubba and the Sawyer family were over the moon

Family was extremely important to them and they were happy for you and Bubba

When Nubbins made a very ugly little hat for the baby, you accepted it but told him gently it'd be too big for their head but that you'd grow into it. He was excited about that prospect

Chop Top and Drayton helped Bubba set up the nursery so you could just relax

And when the baby was born, Bubba was so scared of holding something so fragile and precious

But you helped him, guiding his arms to hold the baby, and he was in shock and awe

He'd never thought he'd get married, much less to someone as gorgeous as you, and have a child together

Bubba was a nervous father, usually letting your kid get away with anything so you had to be the rule-setter when it came to the kid

His brothers were menaces when it came to babysitting their niece or nephew

But both you and Bubba were happy. He'd protect you both, no matter what

BO SINCLAIR

Honestly? This was a major win in Bo's mind

If you think he doesn't show off for you, you're wrong. That man takes every opportunity to

He also definitely flexed to his brothers about scoring the hottest wife ever

Of course, his brothers were very nice and respectful with you, though Bo wouldn't let them be too friendly

He's got a jealousy streak

Whenever visitors arrive to Ambrose, he's always got his arm around you or bragging about you when you're not around

He's whipped, you've got him wrapped around your finger

But when you tell him your pregnant, you're shocked at how scared he becomes

Of course, he doesn't show it visibly, but you know your husband and you can tell when he's nervous about something

Eventually, when he starts trying to pull away from you, you corner him and make him talk

Some yelling and fighting ensues but he caves, confessing he's scared he wouldn't be a good father. I mean, he didn't exactly have the best role model and he didn't want you or your babies to suffer for it

But you reminded him you were in this together and he'd relax a little

You had twins, because of course you did, but this only seemed to make Bo all the more anxious

He didn't exactly... know what to do with a baby? He'd never really been around infants so he's looking to you for help on this one

When they're a bit older though, he'll let them hang out in the auto shop with him when he works

One day you come home to find him asleep on the couch with the twins curled up on his chest and you just melt

He's a good dad and a good husband

VINCENT SINCLAIR

Vincent was shocked you'd said yes when he proposed

He didn't consider himself attractive in the slightest but you said yes?!

I mean, you were stunning, he'd stared at you constantly even when you were dating and it certainly didn't stop when you were married

Bo and Lester were definitely jealous, teasing him to see him get flustered over how lucky he was

Unlike Bo, when he found out you were pregnant, he was excited

Nervous, absolutely, but everyone is nervous when they're having their first kid

He's so wary for you though, nearly had you on bedrest the entire pregnancy because he feared the worst

One time he caught you standing on a chair to reach something and he nearly had a conniption

But the twins came - because of course they were twins - and were healthy and beautiful

Vincent is so gentle with them, like they're the most precious things in the world to them

He makes little wax sculptures for their room to decorate it

Definitely encourages and supports creative hobbies for the kids! He gets them finger paints and crayons and the like

You've woken up in the night because of the babies crying but Vincent is already up, ready to help

Vincent's mastered carrying them both with an arm each and its very cute

Sometimes you catch him holding one of the twins and humming softly to them as they sleep in his arms, just swaying together in the kitchen

You feel so lucky but he feels even luckier to have you and your kids

LESTER SINCLAIR

Lester is by far the most... stable? So you'd been instantly drawn to that about him

He'd always get so flustered, bringing you flowers and blushing like a madman while you were dating

It took him the longest to propose to you though, he always felt like you were waaaay out of his league

Visitors came and would gawk at you and he'd feel a twinge of jealousy at the reminder that yeah, you could have anyone

But he did propose to you and you said yes because you wanted him, not anyone else

Neither of you had any shame in PDA, often holding hands or kissing in front of visitors

You lived with Lester and Jonesy in a little house on the outskirts of the town, surrounded by trees and very peaceful compared to the horrors of Ambrose

It had actually been Lester who suggested having a kid or two running around. After all, he had two older brothers so he was used to that business in a house with lots of people living in it

Over time, the two of you would have two kids, but they weren't twins

Lester was a good dad too! He was attentive and loving but he didn't let them get away with too much

He'd teach them how to shoot when they were a bit older because it was a fond memory he had with his own dad

Of course, Lester didn't have the best dad to draw comparison to

But at least he knew what not to do. Surely that counted for something?

You'd come home from working a short shift to find Lester and the kids playing in the backyard, running about with Jonesy as they played soccer

Both you and Lester would do anything for your kids and you knew he'd do anything for you

#🔪 creeps writes #slasher x reader #slasher fanfiction #slasher x s/o #house of wax #bo sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair x reader #lester sinclair x reader #bo sinclair #vincent sinclair #lester sinclair #the texas chainsaw massacre #bubba sawyer #bubba sawyer x reader #thomas hewitt #thomas hewitt x reader #leatherface x you

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gyeomsweetgyeom · 7 months

Text

[7:37 pm]

(cw: f!reader, a few curse words, no hate at all to business majors xx)

“Baby! Come on you know I didn’t mean it!” Fratboy!Jaehyun calls out with a laugh in his voice.

“You called me stupid, Jaehyun," You pout.

He fails to hide his laugh at the sight, "No, I said don't be stupid. There's a difference."

"And there's a difference between being single and having a girlfriend, asshole," you reply, slamming the door behind you.

You stomp down the stairs and almost make it to the door when Taeyong, your favorite of Jaehyun's frat brothers, asks if you were going to stay for dinner. You can never say no to him.

In the kitchen you help him chop vegetables before he finally asks you what happened, "I told Jaehyun I couldn't spend the night because I had a big project due by Monday and he told me there was no way a project for my major would constitute me not being able to spend the night. Then he just kept talking and said that none of my classes could be harder than his."

Taeyong stopped with wide eyes, "he said that?"

You nod quickly, "Oh yeah, then he told me that he doesn't think any major would be harder than his business classes, especially mine, and I'd be stupid to think so."

Taeyong ends up agreeing with you and your current upset state, Jaehyun is officially in the wrong. You can feel your phone in your pocket vibrating with texts from Jaehyun but you don't care enough to text back. He can learn from the consequences of being rude.

When the meal is finally ready, you take a seat at the table, far away from your honorary seat at the dinner table, the seat that was right beside Jaehyun's.

Jaehyun walks into the room and sees you sitting beside Taeyong and Haechan, "Really? You're still butt hurt? You didn't answer any of my texts, I wasn't sure if you were safe."

You make it a point not to look at him, so Haechan answers for you instead, "You have her location and you made her feel bad, she doesn't owe you anything."

Jaehyun glares at the younger man, he could be so annoying sometimes. While he ate, Jaehyun's eyes were glued on you with a scowl watching you laugh and interact with everyone but him. He looked like a child who was forced to share his favorite toy, it was hilarious.

While you stood in the kitchen and continued conversing with Taeyong, Jaehyun slipped in and wrapped his arms around your waist, "are you really still mad at me baby?"

"Yes, Jaehyun," You reply curtly, not reciprocating any type of affection like you would usually. This was new for everyone to witness, usually it was you giving the affection. It was you who initiated the hugs, used the mushy petnames, began the disgusting make out sessions. It was funny to see Jaehyun being the clingier of you two now.

He nuzzles his face in your neck, pressing kisses to the slope of your shoulder, "I'm not Jaehyun. I'm your love, your baby, your babe."

"Not when you're being mean."

"I didn't mean to say it," he whines, hearing someone snort out a laugh in the background.

"Jaehyun, I just can't believe you'd say that to me. You're a fucking business major with a 2.8 GPA and I'm on the dean's list with a 3.9. Almost all your classes are freshman level classes. Anything I do is harder than what you do," you finally snap.

"My love, I'm sorry," he cups your face and begins pressing kisses across your face while you still huff in annoyance in his hold.

"I don't like it when you call me stupid or imply that I am," You pout looking up into his eyes.

He presses his forehead to yours, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, "You're not baby. You're so smart and I'm the stupid one."

Someone imitates a whipping noise and mocks, "No, I'm stupid! Me! Me! I'm so stupid!"

"Fucking whipped is what he is," someone else chuckles.

"Would you guys knock it off, I'm trying to apologize to my girlfriend here!" Jaehyun calls out with an annoyed groan.

Another whip noise, "Pretty sure, I heard her call you single bro."

"Did you break up?" Haechan asks hopefully, fingers visibly crossed on both hands.

"Jaehyun gets a pass this time," you reply leaning into Jaehyun to give his cheek a kiss, ignoring the groans of the other guys in the room while he smiles happliy, "but I want flowers too."

He kisses you softly a few times, your face still cradled in his hands while he looks you right in the eye, "then my girl is getting her flowers."

#kpop imagines #kpop au #kpop scenarios #kpop reactions #nct #nct imagines #nct fluff #nct timestamps #nct x reader #jaehyun imagines #jaehyun x reader #jaehyun fluff #jaehyun blurb #jaehyun drabbles #jaehyun timestamps

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marauroon · 27 days

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hello !!! can i request a right person, wrong time with siri? maybe they broke up because of the war... and the reason is because siri doesn't want to put the reader into danger and then they meet again, all grown up and they still have feelings for each other and Siri has to grovel to win reader back again? And it ends with a happy ending (please) (Siri was the one who broke the relationship and reader was really hurt) it's very long yet vauge 😅

A CALL TO ARMS — S.BLACK

sirius black was the love of your life, and you were his. but sometimes higher priorities—and deep-seeded anxiety—can get in the way. but the invisible string of fate always brings people back together.

cw — fem!reader, details of the first wizard of war, reader and sirius have a messy and complicated relationship, harsh arguments, character death mentions, happy ending

sirius black x reader || hurt/comfort || 6.2k || requests open!!

a/n — let’s just pretend sirius doesn’t get avada’d like three weeks after this fic ends

The war put a strain on everybody. Some people had to leave their families to join the fight, some had to hide away to protect themselves from the Death Eaters.

Some didn’t have a family, anyone to worry about them coming home at the end of the day.

They threw themselves into it the hardest.

Then there was you and Sirius, a pair of outcasts who found solitude in each other. A pair who paid no greater devotion than protecting the people that you cared about from the ravages of Voldemort’s uprising.

You were barely eighteen when you both joined the Order, fresh out of Hogwarts and straight into the line of fire after the group had been offered a spot in Voldemort’s army and refused, leaving every one of you with a target on your back.

By the time you were twenty it almost seemed fruitless, with James and Lily being sent into hiding to protect them and their son under Dumbledore’s direct orders under fear for their continued safety and a Fidelius Charm placed over them to keep them safe. Sirius denied being their secret keeper with the explanation of it being too obvious a choice. What a mistake that was.

Then order members started dying.

And it all began to fall apart.

The brass framed picture in the entrance of the Black family home offered Sirius no empathy as he escaped the bitterness that October was serving him, the laughing faces of his friends and self-proclaimed family only serving to make his already dwindling morale dampen further.

Twenty-two people in the picture. And how many remained? Fourteen. In the span of five months.

It was Dorcus and Marlene that really did him over, and he could barely so much as glance in the direction of their hopeful smiles without feeling like he was going to throw up.

The trudging of his feet up the wooden stairs was proof enough of his arrival for any present members of the Order to hear, too fatigued and all together bleak at the continued state he was living in to announce his presence verbally.

“Sirius, sweetheart, you’re home thank goodness,” Not even the warmth of your arms around him or the relief in your voice as you pulled his head into your shoulder could satiate him anymore.

You shouldn’t have to be relieved that he walked through the door.

You shouldn’t have to hug him like it’s your final goodbye every time he leaves.

Every time you leave.

You didn’t deserve that. And neither did he.

“Godric you’re freezing, come and sit down,” You pull Sirius into his childhood bedroom with all of the care of a feather floating on a pool of water, squeezing his hands in yours like you’re trying to transfer your own heat to him.

He follows you with no real resistance, though he doesn’t make any move by himself, and you have to push his shoulders down to get him to sit in front of the lit fireplace that would hopefully quell the chill echoing across his skin.

You help him remove his coat with a sigh, dark frown lines marking your features as you take a seat beside him and rest the side of your head against his shoulder, your hand gently tracing over his to capture his palm in your own. He doesn’t return the small squeeze of your fingers.

You can’t blame him for being so dismal, the situation was something that nobody could make it through without a gargantuan crack in their emotional shield, but seeing Sirius display his almost funereal sentiment so fervently without so much as a hint of a mask was devastating.

Displaying even the tiniest glimmer of hopefulness was what allowed the Order to survive for so long, and Sirius couldn’t even muster that.

“Harry said his first word today,” You try to keep the conversation positive, ignore the downfall of everything around you and keep focusing on the small wins. “Dada of course, apparently Lily was pretty miffed,” You punctuate your sentence with a small laugh, although it’s more pathetic than genuine and even you can tell you’re doing a horrible job of trying to uplift Sirius’ spirit.

“They sent over a picture, Remus has it if you’d like to see—”

“Just stop.” Sirius shakes his head sharply, pulling his hand from yours and standing with his back to you.

“Sirius—”

“I don’t know why you keep trying to pretend that everything’s okay, it’s not. Our friends are dying and you’re acting like its completely fine.” There’s more malice in his voice than he’s intending, and logically you know that he doesn’t really mean to get so angry at you. It wasn’t you that was the problem, it was the world in which you were living.

But logic can often times get overridden by other facets.

“I am trying to stop anyone else from dying.” Your words are more desperate than harsh, and they’re not laced in anger like Sirius’ are, but they carry just the same amount of conviction. “If we lose hope then we may as well just hand ourselves over…”

There’s a stuttered exhale as you trail off, and Sirius swears he hears your voice crack as you try to take his hand in yours again. “I can’t bear to see you like this…”

“You should leave the Order.”

You’re almost not sure you heard him.

“What?”

“You don’t belong here, you’re not fit for this,” He sounds almost resigned, and his shoulders drop just enough that you’re not sure he really believes what he’s saying. “You should leave before you get hurt.”

There’s a moment where all you can really do is let out a breath of astonishment, and then there’s an overwhelming need to defend yourself against Sirius’ accusation. “I am perfectly fit for this, Dumbledore agreed that—”

“Well I don’t agree with it!” He cuts you off harshly, turning around so that you can see the anguish that’s drenching his features. “People are dying, our friends are dying, and you are on the goddamn list of whose next.”

He takes your upper arms in his hand and shakes you like it’s going to make you see his point, practically shouting at you as he desperately tries to get you to see his point of view. “You are a brilliant witch, and you are in so much danger that it makes me want to rip my heart out so I don’t have to worry about you any more—”

His rant doesn’t stop once his hands halt, and they stay gripped uncomfortably tight around your biceps to the point where you’re sure it’ll bruise. “Dorcus died because she was brilliant, Marlene died because her father was a muggle, you are like the two of them wrapped up in a package practically serving yourself up to the Death Eaters every time you step out of this goddamn house and I cannot take it anymore.”

Sirius practically pants as his yelling comes to a halt, and he almost immediately regrets getting riled up as he sees the reflection of the fireplace in your glassed over eyes.

“I love you. I love you so much and I can’t live like this anymore.” His hands move from your arms to cup the sides of your face, and you flinch at the contact like you’re afraid he’s going to hurt you.

It breaks Sirius’ heart.

“The Order is falling apart love… I don’t want you to be here when it collapses,”

You pull his hands from your face with yours at his wrists, shaking your head as you blink through clouds of tears. “I’m not leaving the Order, Sirius. You really think I would abandon my friends like that? My family? You?”

“Then I’ll make one of the hard choices for you,” Sirius lets his hands fall to his sides on your prompting, taking a step back from you to hide them in the pockets of his jeans. “I’m breaking up with you.”

“What—” There’s nothing but absolute betrayal written across your face, and Sirius almost breaks down immediately. “Sirius—”

“If you want to stay here and watch shit hit the fan then be my guest, but I will not put myself through watching your downfall.” He doesn’t give you the courtesy of replying before opening and slamming the door behind him as he leaves, but you’re not sure you’d be able to articulate anything even if he did, your only response being the start of a sob that echoes off of the empty walls and back into your ears to amplify your own anguish.

You move your belongings out of his room that same evening, taking refuge under Remus’ open arms as you cried yourself into an uneasy slumber, so emotionally exhausted that you could barely formulate any sense of coherency.

Lily and James died two days later.

The news hit you like a truck when Dumbledore relayed it to you, and whilst most of the Order were left in a blanket of shock, Sirius took off in a rage before he could even finish his sentence.

It was enough for you to push the grief aside to not cost you any more.

“Sirius wait—” You weave your way through the others and past Dumbledore to rush after him, the first words either of you had spoken in the other’s direction since the argument. “Where on earth do you think you’re going the Death Eaters might still be there—”

“I hope they are.” Sirius’ tone drips with venom as he pulls his motorcycle helmet from the coat rack at the front door, and you just barely catch his wrist before he has the chance to leave.

“You’re going on a suicide mission—”

“They murdered my brother, I have nothing to lose.” He again leaves the conversation with a slammed door, and you don’t know whether the possibility of his death or the fact that he’d seemingly accepted it hurt you more.

He had nothing to lose.

It was the biggest insult he could’ve possibly left you with.

And it’s all he did leave you with.

For twelve years.

You grieved the loss of Sirius like you did James and Lily, like he too had entered into an early grave of which he would never return. Azkaban may as well have been.

You were angry at first, disgustingly loathing the thought of what those twelve poor muggles had to endure as their final moments. You were less empathetic towards Peter’s fate, although your grief for him was replaced with a deep-seeded betrayal that sunk into your muscles all the same.

Then it settled into an uneven weight in the bottom of your chest, something that you carried with you from that point onward.

You moved out of England soon after, with nothing but a silent vow to Remus that if Voldemort were to ever return, that you’d be there, a final standing against the allegiance that stole your life from you.

You couldn’t stay there anymore, every street of London reminded you of him, of them, of all the people that you lost and how the prime years of your young adulthood were unceremoniously ripped from you under the false belief that you could actually make a difference.

As weeks turned into months, and then into years, there were days that passed where you didn’t think of what happened, of how your previous life had fallen apart and left you as a shell of yourself, and eventually, you managed to pick up the pieces and live your life like it hadn’t happened.

Apart from a single shard of your heart that had lodged itself at 12 Grimmauld Place, underneath the black silk sheets you and Sirius once shared.

You were thirty three when a letter from R.J.Lupin was sent through the letterbox of your house, and it was like those twelve years of growth and acceptance disappeared in an instant.

—

‘I hope this letter finds you well, I know I promised to contact you only for something of the upmost urgence regarding the resurgence of you know who, but I believe this is appropriately important.

Wormtail is alive. He was the one who caused those muggles to die without reason. Which leaves no question of Padfoot’s innocence.

I don’t know if you have kept up with the wizarding news, but he escaped from Azkaban, and is in a safe and secure location known only by the Order.

I understand if this news is too much for you to digest, but he has asked me personally for your consideration in returning to the place where everything began.

Yours sincerely,

R.J.Lupin’

—

The aftermath of your reading was a mess of shallow breaths and an elevated heart rate.

Panic.

You hadn’t felt so horrible since the day that James and Lily had died, the day one of your closest friends betrayed you and the love of your life was taken away presumably to never be seen again.

And now he was just out there? You were just adjusting to living without him, and now he was being thrust back into your life by his own doing.

He threw you away right before your house of cards toppled, and now he was trying to worm his way back into your life?

It took you almost three weeks of staring at the sheet of parchment before you made a decision, and it ended with the letter going up in flames and you watching on with a sunken expression, no tears left to cry over the man who’d ruined you.

All of those months where you’d pondered, where you’d asked yourself over and over again what might’ve happened if you’d have just not spoken to Sirius that day, if you’d just let him rest like he’d obviously wanted rather than try pathetically to lift his mood.

If it might’ve meant he would regard you as something to live for and stop him from blindly running off to avenge James and Lily without a second thought.

All of it went straight down the drain. Because you could have him back if you wanted. But you didn’t. You didn’t want to go back and see him again because the minute his name invaded your mind all you could think about was that god awful argument and it’s aftermath.

And it ripped you apart every single time.

—

“She’s not coming Pads…” Remus’ hand on Sirius’ shoulder was almost apprehensive as he gave it a soft squeeze.

It was almost three months of having to watch Sirius treat the front door like it was his lifeline, his head turning at the smallest creak of the wood in the fruitless hope that when it opened you would be on the other side.

“I know…” Sirius lets out a small, pathetic laugh as he rakes his fingers through his hair, his facade of indifference threatening to break with every breath he took. “Can’t blame me for trying though right?” His voice betrays his devastation, tone wavering and quiet, cracking when he tries to push it to sound more convicting.

“Pads…”

“I’m fine,” Sirius shakes his head with a dismissive hand, clearing his throat and blinking away the starts of tears from the corners of his eyes. “I’m gonna go get some sleep, gonna need all I can get if we’re gonna fight these sons of bitches hey?” Sirius nudges Remus with his elbow as he plays a characature of his former self, although it’s poorly executed at best.

“Yeah…” Remus consciously suppresses a sympathetic sigh that tries to escape his mouth, pressing his lips together. “Goodnight Pads,”

“G’night Moony,”

—

There’s eighteen months of radio silence before another letter is slotted through your door, and you have half the mind to burn it on sight when the familiar red seal is left face up on your patio tiling, but the handwriting on the back wasn’t Remus’, and it was definitely not Sirius’ either.

The scrawl of your address was almost unmistakably Dumbledore’s, and you were left in an emotional state of uneven limbo as you debated why he of all people would be personally sending you a letter.

Logically, you already knew the reason, but your brain chose to ignore that logic as you ripped the envelope open, only for that denial to be thrown right back at your face once the seal of the Order inked itself into the folded parchment.

You didn’t even need to read the letter to know what was inside it.

Three words.

Invitatio ad arma.

A call to arms.

You barely remember packing your bags, leaving the sense of normalcy you’d built over the past fourteen years to throw yourself back into the line of fire and more devastatingly, right back to Sirius Black.

The train ride to England almost felt like a fever dream, your body left in a state of dissociation where you couldn’t discern whether your actions were real or just a part of some vivid nightmare that you couldn’t wake from no matter how much you tossed and turned.

And by the time you reached the front door of number 12 Grimmauld Place it felt like you were right back where you started, just barely twenty one thrust into a war that could leave you in your grave at any unfortunate minute.

It felt almost foreign to you as you entered, the hallways that once proved to be your substitute home reduced to unfamiliar sights covered in dust and peeling wallpaper. There was no brass lamps to warm the sight, no picture of your closest friends on the wall, not even the mirror that had been hung beside the door had survived, reduced to a half shattered mess that hadn’t been replaced under higher priorities.

“Oh—” The slightly surprised sentiment draws you away from your almost depressing nostalgia, drawn instead towards an almost perfect capture of teenage James Potter, down to the slanted circular glasses sat over his nose bridge.

It’s enough for you to genuinely consider for a second that you’d actually stepped back in time, right into your graduation year when you were all so young and full of hope.

But it couldn’t be James. As much as your heart desperately wished it was.

“You’re another member of the original Order of the Phoenix right?” The boy takes a few steps towards you, wonder still lingering in his eyes despite the film of knowledge that cloud them. Knowledge of just how unfortunately dark the world actually is. “It’s nice to meet you, I’m—”

”Harry…” Your interruption is barely more than a breath of air as you take in the sight of one of your closest friend’s child, a child that he never got to see grow into an almost perfect replica of himself. “You look just like your father…”

There’s a mix of shock and a small amount of sadness in his expression at your statement, and it’s enough for the glimpses of Lily to shine through in his demeanour. “Thank you,”

It’s enough for your eyes to well with tears, and you blink them away with a small clearing of your throat to regain your composure in front of the boy. He didn’t need to see you cry over the fact that he looked like one of your dead friends with the personality of another. That wasn’t fair.

“It’s nice to finally meet you Harry, properly,” You extend your hand almost hesitantly as you introduce yourself, and he takes it graciously in his own with a small sympathetic smile. Being proxy comforted by a teenager, how pathetic.

“It’s nice to meet you too, my parents have good friends,” You give the boy a small nod with a small, sad smile, and he mirrors it himself in turn.

“I’m so sorry, you didn’t deserve any of this,” You let your hand rest on his shoulder, squeezing it lightly in a terrible attempt at consoling the sadness riddling his expression. “You’re just a boy Harry,”

“I know,” He gives a small sigh and a more confident smile, sympathy lingering in the creases of his cheeks in a perfectly Lily fashion. “I’m sorry for your loss too, I know they probably meant a great deal to you,”

“They still do, that’s why I’m here,”

“Thank you,” He sounds more confident in his thanks this time, more determined, and the remnants of his parents continue to show on full display as his focus returns to the reason you’d arrived here in the first place. “We’re about to sit down for dinner, join us?”

“I’ll be there shortly,” You give Harry a small nod and another small squeeze of his shoulder before excusing yourself up the stairs to leave your belongings.

—

“Good evening everyone,” Your voice is taught and awkwardly flat as you push open the door to the dining room, and you stand there with your hands wrung together behind your back as your eyes flicker over the room.

There are so many people that the table is almost entirely too crowded, and a mix of familiar and unfamiliar faces in your presence, although those who do recognise you leave their seats almost immediately to greet you properly.

“It’s good to see you,” Remus reaches you first, wrapping you in a secure hug that you happily return with your own.

“It’s good to see you too, Remus, it’s been too long,”

“Welcome back, we need all of the human shields we can get,” Mad Eye’s reuinionative statement is much less heart felt, but you give him a small laugh and a “Thank you,” nonetheless.

Then there was Sirius. Stood at his chair, not daring to walk into your little bubble under fear of whatever consequences that might come from it.

He looked almost as you remembered him, but he was leaner, more gaunt, his hair more unruly and his skin even more paper-white than the almost impossibly pale complexion of his teenage years.

He was still Sirius, but he was different, and it took less than half a second of eye contact for him to realise that you were different too.

“Welcome back,” His voice is hesitant, almost catching in his throat as his brain catches up to the fact that you’re stood in front of him, less than ten feet away after all of those years he’d spent desperately dreaming of what it would feel like to have you in his arms again.

Now you were here. And you were a stranger.

“Thank you,”

Dinner progresses pretty much how you expected, a mix of awkwardly introducing yourself to the Order’s new members and horrifically failing at avoiding eye contact with Sirius from across the table.

Then the topic of interest moves to the Order’s plans, and things seem to spin into a downwards spiral all too quickly.

“We don’t have enough members to reliably be able to pull this off,” The argument was entirely valid from a logical standpoint, a weakness that quite a few of the Order seemed to have choice opinions about.

“Yeah well we’re not getting any new members are we?” Sirius leans back in his chair exasperatedly. “With the way Fudge is portraying Dumbledore and the lack of official credibility, we’re on our own here, there’s no use in waiting around,”

“I’m inclined to agree, we all know you know who isn’t going to waste any time,

“It’s reckless,” You shake your head with furrowed eyebrows. “We not ready to face something like that head on.”

“We’re never going to be ready,” Sirius shakes his head with a sigh. “We have to take action before he has the chance to build himself back to where he was all those years ago.”

“Sirius is right, we need to do something,” Sirius gestures towards Harry’s response like it’s the final nail in the coffin against your reasoning.

“Harry, sweetheart, I appreciate your enthusiasm but you don’t know the extent of what we’re dealing with,” Your voice is as gentle as it is assertive, not wanting to put him down too much but also wanting to make sure he understood the true extent of what was going on.

“He killed my friend in front of me—”

“And he’s killed dozens of ours,” You shake your head softly but firmly. “Jumping in without a plan is only going to make things worse, trust me.”

He seems more than a little shot down, but he gives you a small nod of understanding nonetheless as he backs down from his standing.

Sirius doesn’t pay you the same mind.

“So you’re suggesting we just wait in hiding for what, forever? We need to act,”

“The last time you ‘acted’, Sirius, you spent twelve years in Azkaban for it.” Your rebuttal holds none of the softness that was present when you were talking to Harry, and you can see it eroding the calcified shield behind Sirius’s eyes.

“That wasn’t my fault,” Sirius presses his teeth together to keep himself from raising his voice, his back straightening alongside his defensiveness. “At least I’m trying to do something, if you don’t want to contribute maybe you shouldn’t be a part of the Order at all,”

“I will not have this argument with you again Sirius!” His chastation seems to finally get under your skin as you rise yourself from your chair with your hands on the dining table, ignorantly ignoring the uncomfortable gazes of everyone else present as you’re forced back into that evening fourteen years go all over again.

“Okay, I think it’s time we called it a night,” Remus, seemingly the only normally functioning person at the table, rises from his chair slowly, taking your shoulders in his hands to guide you away from the group and calm you down.

“Yes right you are Remus,” Molly stands up with a nod that’s almost too enthusiastic clasping her hands together. “Off to bed, all of you,”

You can practically hear the lingering exasperation in Remus’ breathing as he leads you up the stairs and into the room he was staying in, and the second he shut the door behind you you knew what you were in for.

“You need to speak to him.”

“I know,”

“Properly.”

“I know,”

You’re sure the sigh you let out echoes across the house’s first floor, and it’s enough for Remus’ eyes to shift into displaying a concerning amount of sympathy in your direction.

“He misses you, you know,” Remus takes a seat on the edge of his bed with a soft sigh. “He said the thought of seeing you again was the only thing that got him through Azkaban,”

“Yeah well he wouldn’t’ve gone there in the first place if he hadn’t’ve been such a hot-headed twat,” You wouldn’t lie that Remus’ statement didn’t hit you a little where it hurt, but the lingering anger towards Sirius’ situation was clearly still more forefront in your mind.

“It’s a carried trait in all of us ’m‘fraid,” Remus tilts his head knowingly, and you have half the mind to roll your eyes at the clear implication of what he’s saying.

But he isn’t wrong, not really.

“You know where to find him,”

There’s a small moment of silence, then a sigh. “Do I have to?”

“The longer you wait the worse it’ll be,”

Sometimes you hate how logical Remus can be.

With another sigh and a loll of your head, you reluctantly stuff your hands in your pockets and turn towards the bedroom door, muttering a soft—and only half genuine—“thanks,” in his direction as you leave.

The wooden door that barricaded you from the former love of your life felt more like steel than anything else. Tall, dark, and intimidating to the point where you couldn’t even consciously lift your hand to knock against it under the blood rushing behind your ears from how fast your heart was pounding in your ribcage.

It really shouldn’t be so scary, you’d spent weeks, months in that room when you’d originally joined the Order, yet now it felt entirely foreign to you.

Maybe it was the fact that the wood was slowly rotting away with how unkept it was. Maybe it was the knowledge of what—who—was on the other side of it. Or maybe, your mind was just so completely and utterly fucked that the idea of confronting the consequences of your own actions was more nerve-wracking than the idea of standing face to face in a death match with Voldemort himself.

You stand there staring dumbly at the door for almost two minutes, and when it opens your eyes widen like it’s a new form of magic that you’d never encountered.

Sirius halts halfway out the door, arm stretched straight with the doorknob still in hand as his face seems to go through an insurmountable number of emotions in the half-second it takes for him to realise you’re there.

You don’t say anything as you make eye-contact, head immediately ducking downward and stepping aside so that he can leave without you blocking his path, but he just stays there, staring at you like you had been the door, and it was becoming increasingly uncomfortable by the second.

You clear your throat with a feigned cough, pursing your lips together with a muttered “excuse me,” as you turn around to leave, but Sirius catches your wrist in his hand before you even manage to take the first step.

“Wait—” He loosens his grasp almost immediately after he feels a resistance, but his eyes convey just how determined he was to keep you where you were. “Let’s talk, please?”

There’s a hint of desperation in his tone, and you almost crumble on that alone, but you manage to maintain your composure with a small shake of your head and a gentle pull of your wrist from his hand. “I don’t think it’s worth it Sirius, not anymore,”

“Don’t say that, we can fix this,” Sirius mirrors your head shake with his own. “You just need to talk to me,”

“I tried talking to you Sirius, and look where it got us,” You gesture between the two of you with exasperation in your tone.

There’s a small pause where the two of you share and almost identical mask of composure over your agony.

“It just wasn’t meant to be, that’s it,”

“That’s not true,” Sirius shakes his head again, more confidently this time, and his inky black curls bounce against his shoulders like they’re trying to torment you with the memories of your fingers raking through them. “We can fix this, us, we just have to try,”

“I don’t want to argue with you anymore,” You lower your gaze away from his so you don’t have to see the heartbreak in his irises. “Especially not over this…”

“Then don’t, let’s work this out properly, like adults,” He reaches out his hand cautiously towards yours, and you flinch away as your fingers make contact. “Please,”

“Sirius…”

“I’m sorry.” Sirius lets out a heavy, pathetic breath as he retreats his hand to run it through his hair. “I am so sorry. I made the biggest mistake of my life and it cost me the person that I love more than life and I have suffered the consequences of it every day for the last fourteen years.”

Sirius lets his hands fall to his side with a start, voice beginning to tremble under the strain of his emotions as he desperately tries to voice everything that he’d bottled up over the last decade and a half before you leave him to rot in his own depression again. “I spent every hour in Azkaban imagining what it would be like to see you again, to hear your voice, to hold you and tell you that you’re the one thing in this goddamn hell that we live in that actually makes anything worth fighting for,”

The breaths between his words are shallow and weak, and your expression starts to blur as his eyes glass over with the beginnings of tears. “I love you so much, and I’m so— sorry that you had to live through everything I forced on you and I just—“ He takes a sharp, stuttering breath in. “—I need you to know that I will spend the rest of my life devoted to you, to correcting what I’ve done even if you don’t so much as spare me a glance,”

He’s not sure when the tears started running over his eyelids, but he can feel them fall in drops to dapple the ivory skin of his fingers. “And if I die tomorrow, I’ll take whatever punishment hell has to give me so that you can rest easy,”

The end of his rant is echoed by laboured breathing and a horrific attempt at muffling a sob that leaves his throat, bouncing off the walls of the hallway to settle into your muscles as you stand stationary in an astonished silence.

You’re not sure what to say. You’re not sure there’s anything you can say. How on earth are you supposed to respond to something like that? Something so desperate and raw and real?

Sirius Black, after fourteen years of radio silence, still loved you like you’d never parted.

“Sirius…”

And you’d be absolutely damned if you weren’t the same.

“I forgive you…”

It’s like a tsunami of relief ravages Sirius’ body at your words, barely a whisper escaping your mouth but invading his ear canals like a nuclear explosion, and it’s enough for that sliver of composure remaining to erode under the waves of his tears until he’s sobbing into his hands, hunched over with trembling shoulders as he lets everything go all at once.

“I’m so sorry—“

His final apology is doused in so much heartbreak it might as well rip your heart right out of your chest, and your at his side almost immediately, gently pulling his hand from his face to pull his head into your shoulder with a soft shush of consolation.

He clings to you like it’s the last time he’ll ever get the chance to, tears damping the shoulder of your shirt and his arms wrapped so tightly around your torso you’re not sure he intends to ever let go. You’re not sure you’d complain if he didn’t.

That familiar musky scent of cigarettes and faux leather hits your nose once he’s close enough, and that’s where you break too, silent tears streaming down your face as you bury your nose in his hair.

You’re eternally grateful that everyone on this floor of the house is already asleep, either that or just polite enough not to interrupt the two of you out in the hallway, because the state the both of you were in was definitely not meant to be seen by other people.

A desolate, broken side to the two of you only trusted in the company of the other.

“Stay with me tonight, please…” His plea is barely more than a mutter against your shoulder, and you’re sure he wouldn’t even have to ask to know what your answer would be.

And so you find yourself back where you started, tangled up underneath the silky black sheets of Sirius’ bed in the warmth of his embrace, that tiny shard of your heart finally recovered and back in it’s rightful place.

Right where you belong.

#marauders #marauders fanfiction #harry potter fanfiction #sirius black x reader #sirius black #sirius black angst #asks 🪶

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sordidmusings · 8 months

Text

Tender Love and Care - Hair Care (Buggy x Reader)

Art by Capitanpoops (link keeps expiring QnQ)

A/N: Ah yes, another 'taking care of Buggy's head' fic to take up space on the internet. Just gotta indulge in giving this man some tlc. Did I write four thousand words of simping for the cringefail pirate clown's hair? Yes. And I'd do it again >:p

Word Count: ~4 k

Warnings: feminine leaning afab!reader (no pronouns or gendered titles), Lots of Feelings, yearning, possibly angst?, probably hurt/comfort?, waxing very poetic, Buggy being a prickly bitch who doesn't know how to receive affection, Buggy also being a delusional bitch who immediately latches on to that affection

amab!Version

Next ->

~ ~ ~ ••• ✦✦✦ ••• ~ ~ ~

“Touch the makeup and I’ll bite your fingers off!”

“I’m quaking.”

“...I’ll spit in your face.” His eyes narrowed while you blanched. “I’ve got damn good aim too so you better watch those big ol’ eyes.” Almost a compliment? Progress.

“To save us both from catastrophe, I’ll let you keep your grease-face,” you promised. After a few more seconds of giving you the stink eye (really, you should be taking notes because his form is exemplary), Buggy finally settled back into your hold. His stubble scratched lightly at your palms and you allowed your thumbs a scant few passes from his cheek bones to the back of his jaw. That was easy enough to play off as mindless movements while you examined him for the coming wash. Hopefully. You were at least putting in the effort to keep the affection in your chest from blooming into a wide smile on your face, lest he begin spitting like a wet cat again.

After placing him down on your clothes chest, you began gathering together the things you’d need to clean him up. You had already prepared a large basin of steaming water before you had grabbed Buggy from Zoro for your night shift with him. If he had truly protested against you then you’d just have extra water to pamper yourself with for your nightly routine. What a loss. While you flitted around grabbing a cup, a pile of towels, and care products, Buggy took to commenting about whatever his eyes fell on around your room. Your half-assed replies did nothing to discourage his gentle roast of your safe space. He only shut up when you picked him back up and brought him over to the basin.

You were taken by surprise when you took off his bandana. You had guessed that his hair was thick from the pieces that framed his face, but you hadn’t expected long locks to be wrapped up in there. They slipped and fell down like silk despite being in clear need of a wash, and you started to become a bit excited to see how they would come to shine under your care.

“What’s wrong with you? Never seen hair before?” There was a bit more bite to him all of a sudden and it hit you that he may be self-conscious from your staring.

“Never seen yours before, duh,” you teased. “You should wear your hair out as a power move against all the scrangly ass men in these waters.”

Buggy took a blank-faced moment to process your words. Probably weighing your sincerity against the backlog of insults he’s heard in his life. Unfortunately, one joking compliment never stood a chance.

“Whatever, just do your job.” His bitter tone made you keep your mouth shut and drop the topic. For now.

Seeing how he had a lot more hair than anticipated, you got up again to grab yet another towel so that you could use it as a cushion. Finally settled, you grabbed Buggy in one hand, the cup in the other, and got to work. You had laid a small board across the basin so you could rest Buggy on it instead of having to hold him up the whole time. You may have gotten strong in this life, but you were not masochistic enough to try holding him up throughout this process. You made sure to be extra gentle when you put him to rest on the back of his head, mindful that the hard plank wasn’t the most comfortable.

Wetting his hairline was taking longer than you thought. The soft noises from the pouring water hitting his scalp and trickling through his hair into the basin below felt loud in the stillness of the room. Everything had a languid air like you could breathe freely without thought or time to measure the passing of each exhale. Wanting to check in, you looked down from your task and into Buggy’s face. Despite all his past showboating, Buggy was having difficulty keeping his gaze anywhere near your face. You decided to take pity on him in his discomfort but not too much. “So how’d you get your damn good aim?”

Silence.

You’re beginning to think that him looking at you like you’re stupid is his comfort zone.

“You know, that ‘damn good aim’ that makes my ‘big ol’ eyes’ easy targets?” you supplied. At first, you thought he would roll his eyes and make more digs at you, but he finally caught you off guard.

“It’s a trade secret,” he said with a growing smile and a glint in his eyes. His face grew even more pleased when you smiled mischievously back at him.

“Clown trade?”

He hummed out an affirmative. You saturated the last of his hair at the front and sides and now needed to dunk the rest in the basin. The sheer amount of long blue locks that this pretty, pretty man had may cause it to overflow, but you supposed that’s just a workplace hazard when becoming a glamor clown’s hairdresser. You paused in lowering him to look around quite dramatically (squinty eyes, pursed lips, and all) before leaning slightly closer to stage whisper, “You can tell me; I ain’t no snitch.”

You barely caught the laugh that he choked short in order to keep up his serious facade. He let his eyes wander the room to double check your surveying and pretended to be in thought. He let out a heaving sigh and said, “Okay, okay, but you have to lean in close. Can’t have this getting out.”

Ever obliging, you turned your head and leaned until you felt his warm breath on your skin and the roundness of his nose tickling to top of your ear. You were thankful he couldn’t see the little shiver down your spine or the goosebumps spreading down your neck. He was thankful you couldn’t see him close his eyes to savor the scent of your perfume. All was still for a few breaths too long.

“The secret?” you prompted, thinking he was waiting for your urging or that he was just trying to make you squirm. You didn’t see his eyes flutter open while he forced thoughts other than your closeness back into that head of his. Okay, he really needed to do something to reel himself back in and get some control of the situation. Easier said than done when he’s only a head.

You felt as much as you heard him take a deliberate inhale… only for a loud raspberry to be blown right next to your ear.

Nearly dropping him in shock, you quickly pulled your head back and held him at arm’s length like a misbehaved puppy. Through his canting cackles, Buggy met your wide eyes with a proud grin. It didn’t even need the help of his makeup to split his face. Damn, you could stare at that forever. He had just the prettiest eyes you think you’d ever seen. The way they shifted color under the low lights and sparkled with his smile had you feeling entranced. It had the same commanding presence and addicting warmth as flames with their own swirling colors and sparking embers. You thought your poetic idioms for him would always center around the sea, especially for his blue-green eyes, but here we are.

The corner of his smile started to twitch downward under your stare until wild and cheerful giggles burst from your lips. They were the kind to shake your shoulders and scrunch your cheeks up into your eyes and he’s now certain that he has fucked right up. Buggy felt alarms blaring in his mind as he took in your joy and was certain he would make an absolute fool of himself in any and all ways possible to keep getting hits of it. Between your settling laughter, you managed to say, “Don’t worry, I’ll bring that wisdom with me to my grave.”

Readjusting your grip, you moved forward and dunked the back of Buggy’s head fully into the water. He sighed out at the sensation, but he fully melted when one of your hands went to support the back of his skull and the other flowed through his tresses to make sure all of them were wet. You let yourself take your time, both to make sure you were thorough and to indulge yourself in the comfort of the moment. A tenderness spread through you when you saw that this was also indulging Buggy. His breath was slow and steady, and his eyes were resting closed to better focus on the sensations coming to him. You truly were a people pleaser at heart and seeing someone so bedraggled and affection-starved accept your care made your heart and head feel fuzzy.

You slowly leaned him more upright and used your other hand to wipe out some of the excess water. Buggy felt you shuffling around, and his eyes opened to see what you were up to. After you moved him to rest on the flat bottom of his neck on top of the softest towel that he’s felt in ages, he realized that you went through the trouble to try to make even that wooden board comfortable for his sake. He was starting to feel even more uncertain and out of his element.

Careful fingers carded through and spread out his hair behind him while an equally careful gaze watched over their work. After lathering your hands with a shampoo bar scented by vanilla and spices, you set to work giving him the scalp massage of a lifetime.

While focusing on doing the best job possible and maybe also the beautiful color of his hair was keeping you from thinking about anything else, Buggy had no such luxury. He had nothing to direct his nervous energy at - didn’t even have fingers to fidget with! - so he closed his eyes and tried to keep his face neutral. Everyone enjoys a good scalp massage or at least some kind of pampering so it wouldn’t have been weird for him to visibly enjoy it, but something watery and vulnerable was pressing at his throat under your tender care. His mind and body (well… head) were at odds. While his train of thought spun every which way only to be tethered back to the word ‘why’, his muscles melted until they were soft and pleasantly limp. Has his brow ever been so smooth? His jaw so loose? His lips so softly set? Oh God, you must have noticed the stubborn stiffness in his neck because your fingers abandoned his hair to firmly rub from the base of his skull to where he met the towel and that was truly his undoing.

With a rumbly hum, Buggy finally gave in to temptation and tied his mind to your movements. He let himself imagine affection there - imagine that this was special and just for him. You’ve never tended to anyone else like this. You offered because you simply had to know what his hair felt like. You just wanted to touch him. You wanted it much more than you ever wanted to touch anyone else. If he opened his eyes and looked up at yours, he would see them pouring with love, just like your hands were, and you would look sweetly down at him with your pretty eyes and pretty smile and say lovely things and you’d love him-

You’d love him.

Fuck.

You noticed Buggy suddenly flinch under your hands and you tensed up.

“Are you okay? Did I snag your hair?” You hadn’t felt anything tug but you supposed you could’ve missed it.

Buggy cleared his throat before stiffly responding, “No. Keep going.”

Something thick in his tone caught your attention and you looked to see his expression was tense instead of the blissed out one you had admired not too long ago. That won’t do. You went back to the tried and true pressure points on the scalp that you knew from experience eased anyone up. Checking his face again, you noticed it was more relaxed but still too guarded for your tastes. Deciding he must be getting antsy, you switched to working the shampoo down his hair after getting a touch more product on your hands. The time it took to get it properly sudsed and rinsed was calm, despite the fact that there was some undercurrent to the air that felt charged. Maybe it was just from seeing the talkative and bratty clown be so subdued. As you began spreading conditioner through his hair, you decided that it was time to engage him again.

“This bar is my favorite; nothing makes my hair softer,” you said. Already, his hair was relaxing to glide even more smoothly between your fingers. You weren’t ready to give the feeling up, so you spent the entire time that the conditioner was setting to run your fingers through his hair.

Buggy couldn’t do anything at the moment to judge your claim, but the smell alone made him understand why it was your favorite. It matched that of the shampoo bar, but the richer ingredients in the conditioner highlighted the comforting tones of the vanilla and the sensuality of warm spices and wood. He relished in it on every inhale, hoping to unravel and memorize its every undertone. Was that a touch of orchid in there? A little pink peppercorn? Maybe some incense and amber at the base? Buggy suddenly felt ridiculous. He was never one to give much thought to fancy perfumes, yet here he was trying to dissect your scent like a sommelier tasting a new wine.

You made quick work of rinsing his hair this final time and gently pushing and squeezing any excess water out. You set Buggy back on a towel, this time one that was spread on the floor. It was the one that you had just been sitting on. Buggy was embarrassed that he noticed and enjoyed the fact that he could still feel your body heat on it.

“How many of those things do you have?” Buggy scoffed as you pulled yet another towel over to dry his hair. You bopped his forehead with a finger in warning against further sass.

“You can never have too many. It’s something that you use daily and they come in handy during emergencies,” you explained.

“Oh yeah like what?”

“Well, I was thinking of situations like having to soak up a spill or blood, but the state of your hair definitely qualifies.”

The outburst was immediate.

“I KNEW YOU WERE MAKING FUN OF ME YOU DAMN LIAR! HOW DA-”

Good thing you were prepared for this and stuffed some of yet another towel into his screaming mouth. He bit down on it harshly and glared at you with all his might. Snarls and grumbles still made their way through the cloth, letting you know just how displeased he was. You were a little shocked to find that despite being gagged and despite just being a head that his glare still actually intimidated you. The time spent with the crew treating him like a harmless little pest had helped you forget that, when push came to shove, he could back up his talk with violence.

The brief glimpse of fear in your eyes gave him a twinge of satisfaction but mostly felt a lot more hollow than he’d expected. Wasn’t this what he wanted?

When you reached back out to continue drying his hair, you were more tentative than he had ever seen you and his mood dropped even further. Even with your caution, the way that you moved the towel over his hair and gently squeezed more water out of it was filled with care. The whole thing felt very foreign to him. Buggy usually rubbed his towel through his hair chaotically like the more forceful he was the sooner he could get done with the bothersome task. You were working over him like any undue force would be an insult. Like he was something precious. That watery feeling started pressing on him again.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” you started quietly. “I just meant to poke fun, not make you actually feel insulted.” After a few more soft pats with the towel, you slowly removed his makeshift gag. He took a moment to wiggle around his jaw and get the dry feeling out of his mouth.

“Yeah, well good job, dumbass,” he bit. You winced at the hurt in his tone. “Just finish up.”

You took a moment to recenter yourself while you grabbed your comb and brush. This was not how you wanted this to go. One wrong comment had sent this whole interaction spiraling and it made you sad. Sensitivity like that was usually built up from years of feeling the same hurts over and over again, and you didn’t ever want to be someone to aggravate an already festering wound, especially not on someone who you genuinely enjoyed. Not on someone who you were increasingly craving affection from. This needed to be fixed. Steeling yourself for the resistance you were about to meet, you began combing the ends of his hair and spoke, “The blue color is so pretty.”

He ignored you. As expected.

“It was one of the first things I noticed about you.” He still wouldn’t even glance up at you. “Also how it brings out the color of your eyes.”

He snorted dismissively in a way that very clearly told you he wasn’t believing a word you said. Also expected. You’re just going to have to soldier on until this eventually worked… maybe worked… hopefully worked?

Just as in the rest of the process, you were slow and thorough when combing his hair. You murmured compliments to him about how soft it is; how thick and how beautiful. By the time that you had switched to using your brush, he was showing signs of being worn down by your flattery. His face was more relaxed and he let himself look around instead of trying to burn a hole through the floor. All you could focus on, though, was how downcast and tired his eyes looked.

“Alright, I’m all finished up,” you told him. “I’m going to put you in the hammock for a minute while I get ready for bed.”

After placing him in the middle of your bedding, you disappeared behind a dressing screen. The routine of bathing yourself with a washcloth and bowl of soapy water eased you. Since you had taken so much time tending to Buggy, the last bowl of fresh water had become lukewarm. Despite this, the final wipe down had you feeling refreshed and ready to jump into bed. It was no soak in the tub, but still left you feeling much better after a long day of helping work around the ship.

You had set about your routine briskly so that you didn’t leave Buggy waiting too long. Little did you know, he didn’t mind the time of having nothing to do besides enjoy the soft blankets you curled up in every night. He was trying to soak it in before you inevitably put him back down on the floor. If the night had taught him anything, you’d at least put him on one of those fluffy towels instead of throwing him back in the bag like the others did.

You came over to him on the hammock and he admired how you looked, now clean and fresh in a modest slip. When you picked him back up, your face and body language were as placid as he had ever seen them and he was surprised at how content that made him feel. He readied himself to be moved away, left cold and forgotten, but he was astonished when you plopped yourself in your bedding instead with him still in your hands. The shock must have shown on his face because you giggled at him and gave him a bright smile. Even with the bumpy road that the night had been, your smile made him soft and content. He was realizing with more and more resignation that your smile and laugh would let you get away with anything when it came to him.

“So no floor? Trying to bribe me with favors?” His voice was mostly back to that sarcastic lilt you’ve come to adore.

Content that he was feeling better, you answered, “Nah, just using you so I can have a teddy bear. Haven’t had a good one in ages.”

Making good on that promise, you made sure that he was securely nestled into your neck and shoulder. You used both of your arms to cradle him there and both hands to continue your worship of his hair. It was just barely damp and the coolness felt nice on your hands, especially in contrast to the cozy heat emanating from his head. His long eyelashes tickled at your neck every time he blinked, just like the light scruff on his jaw teased at your chest. His big nose felt cozy rested on your clavicle, and you had to resist the urge to reach down and trail your fingers on it. A giddy and victorious feeling flushed through you when you felt him close his eyes a final time and sink into your embrace.

Buggy should have known that he was doomed from the start. He was having a hell of a time trying not to moan at your fingers scratching and massaging his scalp, both during the hair care and now, when he was held in your arms. He couldn’t stop his little movements to nestle into you and get just that much more of your warmth and touch. If he thought that he loved the smell of you before, he was absolutely intoxicated now that he knew what it was like when it floated over the two of you while wrapped in body-warmed sheets.

He wanted to ask you why you were doing all of this, but he didn’t want to know the answer. Not right now. Right now he was going to let himself go back into that place in his head where you lo- cared about him. A place where each night he would crawl into bed with you and, no matter how the day went, you would be there to empty his mind of anything but the two of you. You’d greet him with a kiss or a laugh or an embrace and you would shine with so much joy because he’s next to you again. He’d know what your love felt like, how your body felt under his hands, how your skin felt under his lips. All these daydreams swirling in his head started to make him sick with want, and he needed to know at least one of them. He couldn’t handle all of them staying forever in his mind.

The tiniest increase of pressure from his lips brought your attention to where they rested below your collarbone. The almost kiss was so heartbreakingly shaky and hesitant that you felt your eyes burn with the threat of tears. To reassure him, you dragged your cheek across his temple before turning to leave a deliberate kiss there. Buggy relished the contact, the satisfied sigh you let out afterward, and the gentle weight of your cheek as you snuggled back into him. Your reward came in the form of a grinning cheek pushing into you.

All his humor and posturing certainly caught your attention in the best way and even his explosive temper was something you couldn’t say turned you away. This gentleness, though, this uncertain and wounded place, had you bursting with affection and you were hoping to keep experiencing it. You’d meet it each time with steady affection until it turned into something he embodied with the same surety that he had in his beloved spotlight.

Both of you slipped more sweetly into dreams, curled up together as you were, and with more peace and ease than the years before had allowed. Neither of you would let the years to come be absent of this sweet treasure, either.

Next->

#buggy x reader #opla buggy x reader #buggy x you #buggy x y/n #buggy the clown #one piece #buggy fluff #opla #opla buggy #one piece x reader #one piece live action #my writing #gn reader #afab reader #x reader

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screamin-abt-haikyuu · 3 months

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You're jealous but you can't do anything because you're not dating him (Part 7) - Wakatoshi Ushijima

Pairing: Ushijima x Fem! reader

Genre: Angst to fluff

Warnings: none, really? Reader calls him Toshi.

Requested by: @ushisrever

A/N: Can't believe I posted the last update to this more than two years ago. Has it really been that long???? The incomplete series has been bothering me for two years now lmao. Didn't think I'd ever find a fitting scenario for Ushiwaka but thanks to @dira333 helping me sound off some ideas, I was able to get that perfect "snap!" you get when you fit a puzzle piece in perfectly. Gave me enough brain juice to write this out before going back into hibernation.

Serving you some fresh, hot angst and then some lol. Enjoy the burn and then the healing. For someone who was as far removed from Ushiwaka (emotionally) as one can, writing this actually made me see him in a new light. Loved writing him. Hopefully, it stays as true to his canon nature as it can. Hopefully I don't trash this before it's out💀 but if you're reading this, it's good lol.

It feels like the entire Shiratorizawa is at the gates of the school.

"I can't believe she's coming to our school!"

"AAA I can't stop imagining how she'll look in our school uniform."

"Do you think she already has a boyfriend? Maybe I have a chance?"

"I don't know about a boyfriend but you certainly don't have a chance with her."

"Must you always be so cruel?!"

"If you think a star child actor who has made it so big in the industry is going to date a simpleton like you, you're delusional."

You sigh, annoyed, as you try to make your way through the babbling crowd. You're already late for your morning classes and you couldn't care any less about Hoshiko Nakamura. Or any celebrity for that matter.

"In fact, I don't think any boy in this school has a chance with her. Hmm... except maybe Ushiwaka? Not that he'd be interested in dating her anyway. Sometimes I feel like that guy doesn't have any emotions at all."

Your ears perk up at the Ace's name.

Wakatoshi Ushijima has become somewhat of a celebrity at school ever since he was selected for the under 19 representative for Japan in the Youth World Championship.

He was already well known as the formidable volleyball player who crushes any team that he takes on. However, his serious and stoic nature has kept most people from approaching him. Till now, at least.

The girl was right. Wakatoshi wouldn't even think about dating anyone. You seem fairly sure of that. However, the suggestion still leaves a bad taste in your mouth.

You're wrong about him not having any emotions you think as you finally break free from the crowd and sprint towards your classroom.

You've known Wakatoshi for as long as you can remember. You remember when his family moved into the house next to yours when you were just little kids. You remember watching the reserved, determined figure of the boy practicing volleyball all by himself in the nearby park. You remember going up to him and offering to play with him. Out of all these memories, the most vivid of them all was the way his eyes subtly lit up when you said you wanted to play with him.

Time has blurred into a haze since then. Even though you both went to different schools all through junior and middle school years, you both kept alive the tradition of playing volleyball together in park.

"You should come to Shiratorizawa," he had said that fateful day. You both were in the last year of middle school. It was a beautiful evening as you both walked back home from the park, the setting sun throwing hues of red and gold across the partially cloudy sky.

"That's not in my hands. I tried in middle school, remember? I want Shiratorizawa but Shiratorizawa doesn't seem to want me," you said, kicking a pebble on the road. Funny how I could say the same about you.

"That was three years ago. You have grown," he said without pause.

"We'll see. I don't want to get my hopes too high. You know just as well as I do that they give preference to athletes over normal students like me. Casual volleyball games with you are just about as sporty as I get," you said as you reached out to open the gate to your home.

You turned to say goodbye to him and found him looking at you, his expression more serious than usual.

"It's not about athleticism."

"Shiratorizawa only accepts the best. Be it volleyball or anything else. I believe you fit into that category. You should come," he says, looking straight into your eyes.

Your stomach flutters. How could he have so much faith in you? There is no doubt that he believes in you because Wakatoshi Ushijima always means what he says. Almost 5 years of knowing him had taught you that. You still found it hard to digest, though.

"I'll try my best, I promise."

"I know you will."

"Class, please give a warm welcome your new classmate, Hoshiko Nakamura!"

You can't help but gawk at her. Saying she is pretty would be a severe understatement. If she looks pretty on screen, it is nothing compared to what she looks like off screen. You look at your desk partner to see if he is thinking the same. Wakatoshi, however, seems to simply be listening to the teacher.

"Miss Nakamura, I'm sure you will have no problem settling in here. To kind of help you settle in this new environment, I was thinking of seating you next to Ushijima as I believe you two have met before at some of the national events."

The teacher might as well have thrown a bus at you and it would have felt just about the same as you do now.

Hoshiko's face lights up. "That would be great. Wakatoshi-kun has always been a delight to be with. Thank you for having me," she says and bows.

Did she just call him by his first name?

"Ah, Y/N, sorry for springing this on you so suddenly. I wanted to get a hold of you before morning class but couldn't. I hope it's not a problem," the teacher says.

You force a polite smile. "It's not a problem at all," you say and start packing your bag.

Hoshiko walks up to the desk and waits patiently for you to gather your stuff, thanking you again.

Your legs feel heavy as you take the empty seat diagonal to them in the adjacent row.

I'm panicking for no reason. They just know each other from an event. It makes sense to make her sit with a familiar and safe person, given her popularity. Yes, Wakatoshi is definitely the ideal choice in this scenario. He is not someone who would be creepy in any sense. He's also strong and intimidating so it would keep the creeps away. It's fine. It'll be fine. Nothing is going to happen between them... right?

"Wakatoshi-kun, I'm so glad I got to sit next to you," she says, smiling at him, speaking loud enough for people sitting nearby to hear.

"Actually, if I'm being honest, when I decided to come back to my hometown to complete my studies, I knew I wanted to go to Shiratorizawa immediately," she continues.

"Of course. Shiratorizawa is the best school in the prefecture. It's only natural to want to study here," Ushijima says, completely seriously.

Hoshiko blushes. "Ah... that is not what I meant... nevermind," she says, causing the guy behind them to burst into laughter.

It seems like the hollow sensation growing in your stomach is here to stay.

It has been two months since the day Hoshiko joined your school. With Ushijima going to school earlier than usual and practicing late into the night for the Inter High preliminaries, he hasn't been able to spend much time with you lately. Normally, this wouldn't have bothered you because you could see him in class everyday but with Hoshiko now taking your place, you barely get to say more than hi to him.

However, with the prelims now over and the upcoming week-long break ahead, you're hoping to get some one-on-one time with him once again. All these years with him have made him such an intrinsic part of your daily life that it feels like something big is missing when he's not around. To the world, Wakatoshi Ushijima might be a lot of things. But to you, Wakatoshi Ushijima is home. He is comfort. He is strength. He is someone that you know like the back of your own hand. He is someone that your heart always keeps coming back to. He is the only love you have ever known.

You know that he doesn't share the same feelings for you. But that doesn't stop your heart from longing for him.

The lessons for the day are over and you walk back to your class, eager to pack your bag and go home with Ushijima. You wonder if he'll want to go to the park in the evening.

"She's asking him out! She's asking him out!"

"No WAY! I am SO jealous."

A small crowd has gathered around the window and they're whispering amongst themselves as they look outside.

"Man, that Ushiwaka is so lucky! He gets to date the most beautiful girl in the entire country."

"I mean… he is in the nation's top 3 aces and an under 19 representative of Japan. Not to mention he's tall and strong and good looking. They're actually perfect for each other."

Your heart drops down to your feet.

You look out the window and find yourself looking at Hoshiko and Ushijima standing a ways away from the school building. They're in a quiet, secluded spot and Hoshiko seems to be blushing as she says something to him. You see him nod and say something in return. Hoshiko's face lights up in pure delight and even though they are at a distance, you can hear the joy in her voice.

"No way!!!! He said yes?? I thought he wasn't interested in girls!"

"Goddamn it! There goes my chance!"

You feel dizzy as you watch the two of them walk back to school together.

No. This can't be. You have always known that he doesn't like you that way. But you thought he wasn't interested in dating at all.

No. You shouldn't make any assumptions just yet. These gossip mongers are messing with your head. For all you know, he could have said yes to being in a show or something. You shouldn't despair before you hear the truth from him.

You blink back your tears and run to your class. Thankfully, it's empty. You take a few deep breaths to calm yourself and wait. Both of them soon appear in the hallway. The crowd surrounds them instantly, wanting to drown them in questions but Ushijima breaks away from them easily and walks towards the class. He comes up to you.

"Y/N. I'm sorry I won't be able to come to the park today."

It's true.

"Hoshiko and I are going to watch this new movie playing at the theatre-"

He's going on a date with her.

"Apparently it has a lot of volleyball in it-"

He's going on a date with h-

"You should join us."

Huh?

"What?"

"I figured you might like it since you play volleyball with me even though you don't play it otherwise."

What? What? What?? What is happening right now??

Ushijima patiently waits for your answer.

"Uh... Whose idea was it to go to the movie?"

"Nakamura's. Why?"

"And how did she bring up the idea?"

"Well, I was returning from the club and she asked to speak to me in private. And then she told me about the movie and if I wanted to watch it with her."

He didn't get it.

"Ah... Toshi... I'm pretty sure she was asking you out on a date."

His eyes widen with surprise.

"A... date? But she never said she had romantic feelings for me."

Could this mean...? Can I hope...?

"Well, her asking you out on the date was her way of saying it."

"I see. I didn't realise. Thank you for telling me. In that case, I should tell her my feelings for her as well."

He has feelings for her.

Your heart shatters.

You're glad that he walks out right away because you couldn't have stopped your tears from coming out even if you wanted to. You run out of the back door, desperate to get far away.

I guess I was the problem all this time. I just wasn't someone you could look at that way.

You had always known that. You had always known that he didn't feel for you the way you did. But that hadn't stopped you from falling for him. Hard. How could you have not? Eight years of knowing him... You didn't even realise when you fell for him. Loving him just came so naturally to you.

Logically, it makes sense. They make sense. She is beautiful and tall and smart. And so is he. They are the type of couple who would be featured on the cover of a magazine. Which, given their career trajectories, is bound to happen sooner or later.

But the heart doesn't care for logic and at this moment you feel like it will actually burst from the amount of pain you're feeling.

You spend the rest of the evening and the entire night crying in your room.

Morning comes and you feel worse than ever. Your head is throbbing, your nose is stuffy and your eyes are swollen. You decide to skip school. It's the last day before break anyway. Maybe this break will be good for you. It will give you some time to adjust to everything and compose yourself.

You go back to bed and sleep through the entire day.

You thought you'd feel better after getting some rest but you still feel like shit.

You drag yourself out of bed. Your entire body feels like it weighs ten times more.

Maybe a shower and some fresh air will do you good.

You head out.

No matter how much you try to think of something else, your mind keeps coming back to him. Your eyes keep searching for him. You look in the direction of his room. The curtains are open and you can see it is empty.

Of course he's not home yet. He's probably out with her again.

Even though it's barely a minute away, you feel exhausted by the time you reach the park. Thankfully, it is empty.

You sit on one of the swings and look around. Most of your memories with Ushijima are tied to this park. This is where you both have spent the majority of your last eight years together.

All the sweet memories make you tear up again.

"You didn't come to school today."

You were so lost in your head that you didn't realise when he walked up to you. You blink back your tears.

"Oh... hi. Yeah, I - I wasn't feeling very well today," you say, not meeting his eye.

"You seem upset."

He noticed.

"Oh... I'm fine. Really. It's just been a rough day. It's nothing to worry about," you say, still evading his gaze.

He sits on the swing next to you. You look to the side and see he has a volleyball in his lap.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

You quickly avert your gaze again.

"No."

"I see. Well, would you like me to distract you? Talk about something else?"

It is getting harder to keep your tears in check. You're sure your voice will crack if you speak. You just nod.

"You would've liked the movie. It wasn't as focused on volleyball as Nakamura said it would-"

Great. He's chosen the worst topic he could have talked about. You don't want to hear about his date. You need to change the topic. Quickly.

"What are you doing here?" you blurt out the one question that has been weighing on your mind ever since he came here.

"What do you mean? I came here to play volleyball with you."

"I- I mean... I thought you would spend your free time with Ho-Hoshiko from now."

"Why would I do that?"

"B- because you're d-dating her?" Your voice cracks.

"I am not dating Nakamura."

What?

"What do you mean you're not dating her? I thought you liked her. Didn't you go on a date with her yesterday?"

"I do like her. Just not romantically. And no, I went to watch the movie with Tendou. She had already bought the tickets so I bought them from her. I wanted to watch it with you but you went home. "

"But... you left to tell her your feelings for her..."

"I did. I wanted to clarify that I only feel for her as a friend. It was only thanks to you that I was able to tell her in time before I ended up hurting her unintentionally."

"I...see..."

Relief floods your heart. You suddenly feel a hundred pounds lighter. You finally gather the courage to look at him. He is looking right back at you.

"Can I ask you something?" you say, your lower lip trembling.

"Of course."

"Do you have romantic feelings for anyone?"

You instantly regret speaking up as soon as the question leaves your mouth. You know he never lies. And if he doesn't feel the same w-

"Yes. You."

You stare at him blankly.

It's subtle but his expression has changed from completely serious to something a little softer. You can't quite place what it is. Is it concern? nervousness? Adoration?

"R-really? You like me? Romantically?"

"Yes."

"Since when?"

"Ah," he rubs his chin, "I'm not sure..."

You're still having difficulty believing that any of this is real.

"You know," he continues, "After my father, you were the first person who ever wanted to play with me."

He points towards the corner of the park. "I was practicing against that wall that day when you came up to me. Do you remember?"

"Of course I remember. I can never forget that day."

"So many people have come and gone from my life but you have been with me for so long that, I guess somewhere along the way I just assumed you would stay forever. Which, I now realise, I shouldn't have."

He feels the same. He has always felt the same.

"Toshi?"

He turns to you again.

"I love you."

He breaks into a soft smile.

"I love you too."

Holyshit this was a ride. I'm glad I wrote this and I hope you guys enjoy.

Reblogs appreciated. Please do not steal or repost.

Taglist: @pinkiipeachiikeen @duckymcdoorknob @kakiwrites @ebiharachan @r0binscript I wasn't sure if you guys still want to be tagged for this series, seeing that it has been over two years so let me know if you want me to remove you from the taglist.

Check out THIS POST to know what all characters I have written for in this series.

MASTERLISTS | If you enjoy my work and want to, you can Buy me a Kofi!

#wakatoshi ushijima #ushijima wakatoshi #Haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!!#ushijima x reader #wakatoshi x reader #ushijima wakatoshi x reader #wakatoshi ushijima x reader #ushiwaka #jealous series #ushijima headcanons #ushijima imagines #shiratorizawa #hq!!#haikyuu imagines #Ushijima x you

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endelineinwonderland · 18 days

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Let The Light In: Part 3

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

Words: 4k (Idk either)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers/Media Manager! Reader

Warnings: Angst, Friends to enemies to lovers (but the reader doesn’t know why they’re enemies), reader is actually so incredibly in the wrong, slow burn, mention of an injury, the girls are fighting!

It's her—actually her—, standing right in front of you, and for a brief moment you almost wonder if your mind had conjured up a hallucination to retaliate against the sheer force of your yearning.

You've spent more time than you’ll ever admit imagining this moment, playing it out in various scenarios in your mind, but the reality has a sharpness that no rehearsal could have prepared you for. Her presence is a tangible, overwhelming, a reminder of what you had, of what you had lost.

“Hey, you good?” She repeats, her voice cutting through your racing thoughts, pulling you back down to earth.

Blinking away the tears that are, embarrassingly, still brimming in your eyes, you take a deep breath before allowing yourself to reply. "Yeah, I'm good," the words feel hollow, a betrayal of the whirlwind of the emotion inside you.

Paige doesn't respond; instead, she slightly rocks back and forth on her heels, her hands nervously fidgeting as an all too familiar silence envelops the two of you. Wordlessly still, she reaches for the chair in front of you and pulls it out, the both of you wincing at the loud screech it makes as it drags across the wooden floor.

You don’t bother to hide the shock on your face as the blonde sits down across from you, her knees briefly brushing against yours before she swiftly tucks her legs to the side, avoiding your touch.

"You look like you've seen a ghost," her tone unusually light—almost friendly, which would be confusing if you had the ability to take note of it. The only thing you can focus on is the familiar cadence of her voice, bringing back a flood of memories, each one sharp, sweet, and painful.

“I feel like I have.”

____

“I hope we’re still doing this when we’re 80.” You say, grabbing another spoonful of her strawberry ice cream and plopping the pink desert into your bowl of cherry, mixing the two together before putting the spoon back into your mouth, letting out a satisfied hum when you confirm you’ve finally gotten the perfect mix. Paige chooses to ignore how much you’ve taken out of her bowl, knowing that when you get full in a few minutes the remainder of yours will be scraped back into hers.

“Doing what?”

"Ice cream Thursdays, dummy," you clarify, abandoning your spoon just in time to catch a melting drop threatening to fall from her chin onto her shirt with the pad of your thumb. Pressing your finger against your lips to lick it clean.

She watches you, gaze shifting to the table when your eyes dart up to look at her again. “When we’re 80 you’ll probably be taking pictures of your husband and grandkids playing in your garden or something all cutesy and shit, you won’t be thinking about me.”

Ignoring the confusing pang in your chest when you hear her dismissal you lightly kick her shin under the table, “Oh come on, we’ll still be best friends when we’re 80, if anything I’ll be taking pictures of the grandkids playing basketball and you’ll be trying to keep up with them in your walker.”

This gets a chuckle out of her, “hopefully by then I’ll know better than to do anything but coach.”

You smile, pushing the now half empty dessert towards her for her to finish before leaning towards her, “okay then, I’ll be taking pictures of the grandkids with coach P.”

She digs into the remainder of your cherry strawberry mixture, bringing the spoon to her mouth before shaking her head and adding another spoonful of strawberry, “fine, but if we’re 80 and you still haven’t figured out how to get the right cherry strawberry mix, I’m canceling ice cream Thursday’s.”

____

Her smile fades a bit, replaced by a more cautious expression as she changes the subject, the friendly façade faltering a bit as she speaks. “You know, you’re still sharing your location with me.”

"What?”

“I wanted to find you and I realized you still share your location with me.”

"You wanted to find me?” you echo. The part of you that's been hoping for this moment at war with the part that's been dreading it.

"Yeah, I needed to see you.” You hear her sigh, debating whether to continue, “thought we could talk."

The sincerity in her tone is disarming, and despite the hurt, a part of you wants to lean into the familiarity of her presence, to the shared history you’re still desperately clinging too.

"Talk?"

She nods, swallowing hard. “About the pictures you took the other day…” She begins, her voice trailing off briefly as she looks away from you, her hands fidgeting slightly, “Charlie sent me copies of them.”

“Oh, she’s not supposed to do that, you guys only get the final edits,” the words slipping out before you can think better of it.

"I know, but I asked her too.”

Your breath catches in your throat.

“-I wanted to see the ones Leo told you to stop taking.”

You sit there in stunned silence. And, after a moment that stretches on for longer than you would have liked, she exhales, shoulders sagging. “I don’t know why I reacted like that, with the first shots I mean. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get you in trouble with Leo. I know how much his opinion means to you and I had been thinking that if you got me lectured by Geno I’d want an apology, so… yeah” she finishes

An un-familiar coldness washes over you as you digest her words. This isn't what you thought was happening, she was deviating from the script you had imagined, and essentially memorized by now with how often you replayed it in your head.

“That’s what you want to apologize for?” You’re unable to keep the shock and anger from seeping into your tone. You lean back in your chair, arms crossing, subconsciously trying to protect yourself from the hurt you know she’s about to make you feel again.

“That’s all I have to apologize for.”

The tension between you crackles, a palpable energy that draws an invisible wall, furthering the separation between the two of you.

"You think that's it?" Disbelief coloring your tone. "After ghosting your best friend and making Azzi come tell me not to talk to you anymore, that's what you think you need to apologize for? Getting me in trouble with Leo?"

She looks taken aback, perhaps not expecting your reaction to be so intense. For a moment, she is silent, her eyes darting away before meeting yours again, this time with a mixture of frustration and pain.

"Come on, we were never even really friends.” She speaks softly, tone bordering on patronizing.

You can’t blink back the tears as they form in your eyes now, 'this isn't going to end well'.

“Don’t lie to me Bueckers.”

Paige recoils slightly, as if your words are physical blows. For a moment, she seems to be struggling with something, then her posture stiffens, an accusing finger reaching out to point at you as she doubles down on her statement as everything seems to escalate quicker than you're able to process it.

“We both know that I was just your muse or whatever the hell you want to call it. You did not treat me like a friend, you used me to get praise from Leo and whoever the hell else you thought you needed approval from. You took me for your art when I was at my lowest, again and again, just because my face got your work attention.”

The accusation stings, not just because of its intensity, but because part of you knows there's some truth in it. You've always known how compelling she was in front of the camera, how her expressions could turn simple photos into art, and you loved it.

Before everything fell apart, the two of you had become something of a dynamic duo. Everywhere Paige went, often for basketball, you followed, and everywhere you went, a camera was almost always hanging around your neck.

The passion Paige had for her sport and the passion you had for your art is what originally brought the two of you together, bonding over the drive each of you had to constantly be your at your best, for better or for worse.

____

It was your freshman year. You had just been offered a coveted spot on the UConn sports media team after your photojournalism professor, Leo Howard, had apparently spent the entire semester showing your work to his collogues who had unanimously agreed, you were going to be something special. Being the only freshman to ever have been allowed to serve as the lead photographer at the school’s games was a big deal. The pressure not fully weighing down on you until the night before the UConn, Notre Dame women’s basketball game.

They had started you out small, tennis, water polo, even a soccer match as your superiors had gained more confidence in you. But this would be the first big event you’d shoot, your first chance to really prove yourself, to prove that Leo was right about you.

The clock had just struck midnight when you made your way across campus, having given up on trying to get any sleep earlier in the night. Opting instead to head to the athletics department gym where they had allowed you to stash away your things in a small, abandoned office room. Assuming that'd be better than staying cooped up in your dorm all night.

When you arrived, instead of being greeted by the silent gym you’d anticipated, a woman was stood at the half court line, a basketball bouncing up to meet her outstretched palm before being pushed down, again, again, again.

“The gym’s closed.” Her voice calls out to you, finally noticing you as you made your way across the court, heading for the office door.

You had lifted your UConn Staff lanyard up to show to her, “I could tell you the same thing.”

She approached you, your height difference becoming more apparent the closer she gets until she’s fully towering over you, “I don’t remember seeing you around here.”

“I’m the new photographer, I just started last month.”

This explanation apparently does little to clarify your sudden appearance in her court, “okay, but you’re not supposed to be here, it’s late.” She points out, her tone mixing curiosity with a hint of concern.

“I know but I’m shooting my first big event tomorrow and I couldn’t sleep so I figured I’d just come here and look at some old shots and stuff, prepare you know?” you rambled, hoping to justify your presence in the gym at such an unusual hour.

You’ve gotten her attention now, “Oh, I have a game tomorrow, is that what you’re here for?”

You had of course, assumed she was on the basketball team when you saw her dribbling the ball earlier. But as when she had moved to stand in front of you, you immediately recognized her as the infamous Paige Bueckers, the star player you’d been specifically ordered to get good shots of during this game.

"Yes, that's exactly it. I’ll be covering the game," you confirmed, feeling a slight relief as she seemed to recognize your role and accept the reason behind your late-night visit.

“Oh, cool, I guess I’ll be seeing you tomorrow then?”

You nod in response, “yeah, I guess you will.”

She gives you a small smile before beginning to walk back to her original position on the court, “I’m Paige by the way!” She calls out as you reach the door, you turn back, shouting your name out, already anticipating the next time you’d get to see her.

As it turns out, you don’t have to wait long. Barely 30 minutes have passed when you’re interrupted by a knock on your door, “hey,” she lets herself into the small office space, taking a seat on your desk.

“Hey?”

This girl has guts you can’t help but think. You’d just met and now she’s propping herself up on your furniture, uninvited. And you’d probably be a lot more bothered by her behavior if you weren’t so distracted by how pretty she looked, even under the glow of the notoriously unflattering florescent office lights.

“I was thinking, you need to practice shooting basketball games, and I’m just practicing shooting so if you wanted you could take pictures of me, you know, to get the hang of it.” She offers.

“Oh, yeah that actually sounds great!” You're unable to keep your excitement about getting to spend more time with her entirely out of your voice when you reply; grabbing your camera bag as she moves off your desk to stand back up, holding the door open before following you back out to the court.

“Honestly I’m kinda tired so I’m only doing free throws but feel free to take whatever pictures you want.”

You nod, taking her words to heart, the clicks of your camera mingling with the pounding of the ball on the floor as you take picture after picture after picture.

It doesn’t take long for the two of you to fall into a steady rhythm, occasionally daring to interrupt the other’s focus with questions, jokes, or quick quips about the others work.

The next day whenever she gets a basket, her eyes turn to you first, pointing at your camera for you to get a shot, and every time she does, you take it.

You’ve never seen Leo smile so big as he does when he gets your contact sheet.

The “You did good, kid. I hope to keep seeing more stuff like this.” echoing in your mind when you leave his office, calling Paige, “when’s the next time you can shoot?”

She had left practice the second she heard your voice over the phone, “I can be free now.”

____

You’re abruptly pulled from your memory by the chime of the café door. A group of girls enters, their laughter and chatter filling the air. One girl stands out, wearing a stark white jersey with the number 5 displayed prominently across her chest. The sight of it jolts you back to the present, a reminder of where you are and what’s at stake.

'Fuck this is bad.'

“Paige we can’t do this here” you say keeping your voice low, sensing that this may not end well, and as Paige had just mentioned, any picture of her ends up everywhere, and if captured, this probably wouldn’t be a pretty one.

She exhales sharply, her lips parting to argue, but then she pauses, her gaze shifting to follow yours, brows raising when she sees her lucky number 5 on the chest of a brunette who is now whispering with her friends, looking Paige's way. With a reluctant nod, she chooses silence, perhaps unable to concede that you might be right.

The two of you don’t make it far, your new location being her parked car that had been right outside. You assume the two of you will drive somewhere but the second the doors lock she’s turned back to you, brows raised in anticipation of your still pending rebuttal.

You take a deep breath, struggling to find the right words to express the mix of anger and hurt that's been simmering inside you since you first heard her pathetic attempt at an apology 10 minutes ago. “Let’s get one thing straight, if I wasn’t your best friend, you most certainly were not my ‘muse’.”

The sharp sound of her laughter interrupts you, “okay then, you were just using my face to further your career and you didn’t give a single fuck about me.”

Your anger pulses hotter at her laughter.

If you had thought the silence between you two was bad, then this must be hell. Everything she says, every expression she makes sends you spiraling deeper and deeper down. You don’t even want to look at her anymore, scared that if you catch her gaze again, the once warm and loving looks you remember her by will be permanently tainted by the pure and utter distain that seems to be consuming her now. You want to reach out, to say something that will mend the rift, but fear and doubt hold you back. In this moment, you realize just how fragile your connection has become, teetering on the edge of collapse.

"I wasn't using you," you assert firmly, struggling to keep your voice level. "Yes, you've helped my career—that's undeniable. But that was never the only thing you were for me. Our friendship, what I thought was our friendship, meant more to me than any photo ever could."

Paige's laughter fades, and she looks at you, her expression hardening as she processes your words.

"It didn't feel that way to me," she shoots back, her voice tight. "Every time you needed something for your portfolio or an exhibit, who did you turn to, not any of your other friends, me. Don’t you think that’s a little strange.”

The accusation stings, God she really knew nothing about you, did she?

“I reached out to you because I thought you liked it. Every time I took something you posted it, on media days you always requested me specifically, even when we were freshman and there were people who knew much more than I did, so don’t try to delude yourself, we both benefited from this. But at least I was under the impression that we liked spending time together, that it wasn't all just so I could get more praise for my pictures.”

She stares at you, her expression blank, as if your words are too much for her to process.

"You actually need to just leave now," her hand reaching to unlock the car doors while she motions for you to exit.

'She's scared, back down, stop this while you still can.' You think, but emotion takes over before you can stop yourself.

“No," you reply appalled, "you can't just kick me out because I made a good point.”

She lets out a dismissive scoff, her hands moving to grip the steering wheel tightly, knuckles white with tension. "This is my car and I’m asking you to leave.”

Your eyes narrow feeling a sudden surge of familiar desperation. “You’ve walked away from me once, I’m not about to let you do it again. If you really thought I was using you, why on earth would you continue agree to every single shoot for 2 years? Even if you don't think I do, I know you, you wouldn't have done that. So why are you really shutting me out Paige?” You press, watching her closely. Your heart pounds in your chest, each beat echoing your fear of losing her for good.

She just stares at you, her gaze cold and unwavering, each of you refusing to be the one to break eye contact with the other.

She diverts her gaze, her eyes finally falling away from yours. Staying silent for a full minute before she straightens up, seemingly gathering her composure, and shifts the conversation topic away from her wrongdoings and back to yours.

“Intentions don’t matter anymore. Actions do. And your actions have shown me exactly where I stand in your life. Tell me again, what's your most famous photo, huh?"

It's a low blow, and it doesn’t take long for you to catch onto what she’s talking about. The two of you have had quite a few viral moments but one far surpassed the other. There was only one picture that had landed a coveted cover spot on the headlined article on ESPN, a place in CNN’s ‘This Week in Pictures’ and internship offers from all the way in New York to L.A.

____

She had crumpled to the ground, clutching her knee in agony, silencing the crowd in an instant. Her teammates had quickly formed a barrier around her, protecting her. Through a narrow gap between them, her eyes, wide and brimming with pain and vulnerability, darted around frantically until they finally locked onto yours.

It was a look of pure, raw emotion—a silent plea for comfort, for reassurance, for the familiar presence that had always been her anchor. Her hand reached out, trembling, as if by some miracle, your touch could erase the pain. And in that moment, as she reached desperately towards you, almost mechanically, you lifted your camera.

The weight of it felt heavier than ever before. Looking through the viewfinder, you saw her in perfect focus, every detail of her suffering magnified. Her eyes, filled with a mixture of hope and despair, seemed to question your every move.

As you pressed the shutter, capturing the raw, gut-wrenching moment, a pang of guilt surged through you. The image was powerful, a testament to her strength and vulnerability, but it came at a cost.

Lowering the camera, you were left standing there, the echo of the shutter still ringing in your ears. You wanted to drop everything and run to her, but the moment had passed. The damage was done. Her eyes, now filled with a sense of betrayal, lingered on you before she turned away, her teammates closing ranks around her once more.

____

You gape at her, a million thoughts running through your mind, none of them coherent enough to form a sentence. You thought about this picture frequently; its creation was instinctive, driven by a reflex that you hadn't fully understood even as you pressed the shutter. You’d always (foolishly) assumed that she had known that you never meant for the photo to get out. It was a mistake, a lapse in judgment, a moment of weakness where your professional instincts overpowered your personal loyalty.

'This is it, this is why she's not talking to you, this whole time it's been your fault.'

It was never meant to be published—but Leo had discovered it, and from there, it spiraled out of your control, gaining a life of its own in the public eye. The image, once released, spread like wildfire. It became the defining shot of your career and the defining wound of hers.

“Paige, I-“

She shakes her head no, her expression eerily similar to the one in the picture that ruined the two of you. “Please just leave,” she repeats, her normally deep voice an octave lower with the intensity of the emotion coursing through her words.

Realizing you have no ground left to stand on, the least you can do is abide by her request. You reach for the door handle, but her voice stops you.

"And for the record," she begins, answering your earlier question, "I always agreed to those photos because I loved you and I thought maybe, just maybe, if I helped you get what you wanted, it might make you love me back.”

Her confession wrenches a sudden and uncontrollable sob from your throat, you want nothing more than to shut the door, wrap your arms around her, and beg for the forgiveness you know deep down you’ll never deserve until your heart gives out.

But instead you stand, exiting the car and turning to her one last time, speaking up through tears, "I can't justify what I did with that picture, and I know that if I spent every moment of my life trying to make it up to you, I'd still fall short," you say, your voice choked with regret.

Taking a deep breath, you looking up before meeting her gaze again. "And I know I didn’t show it well, but I loved you too."

She looks away, blinking back tears, her shoulders trembling, she whispers, her voice barely audible, repeating the words you’d uttered just a few minutes before, “don’t lie to me.”

#paige bueckers x reader #paige bueckers fic #paige bueckers #paige buckets #uconn wbb #wcbb #wcbb x reader #wlw #paige bueckers headcannons #paige bueckers fanfiction #uconn huskies #fanfic #angst #wbb #uconn women’s basketball #paige bueckers angst

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hellcat8908 · 6 months

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A Solstice To Forget Azriel x Reader

Part Two: A Solstice To Heal

Warnings: Wing Removal, Blood, Graphic, Angst, Trauma

You ducked under the lights that Cassian and Mor were hanging as you made your way towards your room. "Hey, y/n, come help us decorate. I grabbed some of Rhys's wine." Cassian says. "Maybe later, I've got some work I need to catch up on." You say waving him off. Azriel studies you quietly from across the room. "Please, don't leave me with these two." Mor asks with a laugh as Cassian looks offended at her words. "Sorry, Mor. I've really got to catch up on things. Hopefully, it won't take too long." You tell her with a smile that doesn't reach your eyes.

You finally make it to your room. You make a note to ask Rhys for more work. Hopefully, he'll give you something that takes you away during Solstice. It was your first Solstice with the inner circle since Rhys made you a member to help Azriel with his busy workload. Nobody was aware of your trauma as it was a private matter, and you'd wanted to keep it that way. You hated this time of year. Solstice was something you'd stopped celebrating after your ex had taken your wings.

You flinched at the memory as it came rushing back. You had gifted your ex the wrong sword. In a blind rage, he used the sword to take your wings. Slicing through the membrane and tendons with ease. You almost wretched at the memory of the blood-stained snow and the sight of your wings discarded on the ground. The healer managed to heal you fairly well, but the scars were permanent and glaring. Once you had enough strength, you killed your ex with the same sword he took your wings and then burnt the house down around him.

A few months later, you had been welcomed to Velaris and the Inner Circle by Rhys. Everyone was friendly, and you quickly felt at home with all of them. The only thing you couldn't do was share that part of your history. You felt too vulnerable and too weak when you thought of it. You know each member had trauma of their own as most had shared with you, but you couldn't bring yourself to do the same.

A knock sounded at your door, pulling you from your thoughts. You answered the door, surprised to see Mor standing there. "Before I completely forget, I saw this and instantly knew you'd look stunning in it." She says, handing you a dress. You take in the beautiful silver fabric with intricate beadwork. "Mor, it's beautiful." You tell her admiring the dress. "Wait until you see the back." She says as she turns it around. Your heart drops as you take in the backless side, knowing your scars would be on full display.

"It really is stunning, but it's too much, Mor. Thank you for the thought, but I can't accept this." You say politely. "Sure you can, it's perfect for you." Mor replies. "I have nowhere to wear it." You say realizing she won't let this go. "Sure you do. It will be perfect for Solstice." Mor says. "I already have a Solstice outfit picked out." You tell her. "Well, hold on to this in case you change your mind. Besides, there are other occasions." She says, handing it to you. You thank her and hang it in the closet. "I better get back and make sure Cassian isn't ruining the decorations." Mor says before heading back to the living room. Once the door is closed, you decide to go to bed.

The next morning, you find the shop Mor bought the dress from and return it telling them to credit Mor's account for the return. As the clerk is finishing up, you hear a familiar voice behind you, "She isn't going to appreciate that, you know." Azriel says. You turn and glance at him. "There's no point in keeping a dress I'll never wear." You tell him. "She was right. It's perfect for you." He says with a smile. You feel your cheeks turn pink. "Thank you for the compliment, but honestly, I'd never wear it." You say wishing he'd let it go. He notices your discomfort but can't figure out the cause. You've never seemed to be uncomfortable around him before. Was it something he said?

"Are you headed home?" Azriel asks. "I was going to see Rhys about something." You admit, happy for the change of topic. "I'll walk with you, I have a meeting with him and Cassian in a little bit." Azriel offers. "That would be nice." You tell him as you leave the store. You always enjoyed Azriel's company, and he was easy on the eyes. He placed his hand on the small of your back as you made your way down the street. The innocent touch had your body freezing as you stopped abruptly before pulling out of his reach. Your heart rate increased as your memories came back.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to upset you." Azriel said as he stood in front of you, his eyes taking in the fear and horror in your eyes before you could regain control. "It's ok, I know you didn't mean anything by it." You reassure him. He places his hands in his pockets, afraid to touch you again. You walk in silence the rest of the way to the river house. As you go to step in, you notice Azriel still standing by the street. "Aren't you coming in?" You ask him. "I think I'm going to find Cassian before the meeting." He answers, avoiding looking you in the eyes. "Oh, ok." You respond.

You make your way to Rhys's office before knocking. He tells you to come in. "Hope I'm not interrupting anything." You say stepping inside. "Not at all. What can I do for you?" Rhys asks, putting down his reports and giving you his full attention. "I was wondering if you had any missions for me." You state. "They can all wait til after Solstice." He tells you. "Oh, I don't mind working on the holiday, I'm used to it." You say casually. "Well, this year you'll be free to enjoy the holiday." He says with a smile. We all get together and celebrate. It's a tradition." Rhys tells you with a smile.

"Actually, if I'm not going to be working, I was thinking I could go home and see friends." You tell him hoping he can't pick up on your white lie. "We'll be sorry to miss you, but you're free to do as you wish." He tells you, his eyes studying you a little too close. "Thank you, Rhys." You say before excusing yourself. You're in such a hurry to be out from under Rhys's questioning gaze. You practically run into Cassian. "Sorry, I wasn't paying attention." You mumble. "No worries, y/n." Cassian says with a smile. "See you guys back at the house." You say as you rush out.

You decided to walk back to the house of wind. The fresh, crisp air helps to clear your mind and calm you while you plan what to do next. Solstice was a few days away, but you weren't sure how long you could keep pretending to be alright. You didn't want to dampen their holiday spirit, so you decided to take a vacation until Solstice was over. You decided to take the stairs hoping to avoid anyone who might be around. You were relieved when you found the house empty. You made your way to your room and grabbed your bag out of the closet. You started packing some clothes.

"You're leaving?" Azriel asked from the doorway. "I'm going to go visit some friends for Solstice." You tell him as you finish packing. "Do you have to leave now? We were getting ready to decorate the tree. Nesta and Feyre made hot chocolate." Azriel says. "Sorry, it's a long trip. Have a mug of hot chocolate for me." You tell him as you sling your bag on your back. "At least say bye to everyone before you go." He says, almost sounding hurt. "Alright, a quick goodbye." You say before following him towards the living room. As you get closer, you can hear everyone laughing and conversing.

You turned the corner to the living room, stopping dead in your tracks. The tree was already lit with sparkling lights, Feyre and Mor decorating it with colorful ornament. Cassian and Rhys were hanging a garland across the mantel before adding stockings. The sight sent you spiraling, causing you to start stepping back. Azriel noticed and reached for you, but you were faster. "I'm sorry, I can't be here." You admit before darting down the stairs until you were far enough to winnow. Soon, you were surrounded by snow. The stone foundation of your house lay in front of you. The small village was long forgotten and destroyed.

"Where are you? Are you safe?" Rhys's voice was sudden in your mind. "I need to be alone." You respond. "We're worried about you." Rhys says. "Don't. Enjoy your holidays. I'll be fine." You tell him. "We're here if you need us." Rhys says before going silent. You turn your attention back to the rubble in front of you. You start walking around the foundation coming to the backside of the house where it happened. You looked towards the house, seeing it still standing as the memory came crashing back.

The tree was all decorated, and you were excited for your husband to open his present. You were certain you had bought the sword he was talking about. As he tore open the wrapping paper, his face contorted into anger as he looked at the sword. "This isn't the sword I asked for! How hard is it buying the right one?!" His voice cracked in the quiet house. Before you could respond, he grabbed you and dragged you outside. "I'm sorry! I thought that was the right one from the description you gave me! Please, I can get the right one when the blacksmith opens tomorrow!" You tried to plead with him, but his anger was raging. "So it's my fault I didn't give you a better description?!!" He roared. "No, I didn't mean it like that!" You said through your tears.

He shoved you against the tree with your back to him. He ripped your dress open around your wings. "Please, I'm sorry. Please, give me a chance to fix this." You said, crying harder. "You need to be taught a lesson in paying closer attention. You'd think you would've learned after having your wings clipped, but clearly, you need a more severe lesson." He said, causing chills to run down your spine. The pain of the blade severing your wings was excruciating as he took his time to make sure you wouldn't forget it anytime soon.

The smell of blood from the memory overwhelmed your senses, and the phantom pain took over, causing you to fall to the ground, struggling to catch your breath. Sudden the image of your discarded wings laying in the snow flooded your vision and sent you falling into darkness as you collapsed in the snow. You welcomed the darkness, hoping to finally rid yourself of carrying this burden. You wished the mother would have mercy in the next life and give you your wings back. You settled into the comforting darkness, letting it surround you like a blanket.

#acotar #batboys #acotar fanfic #azriel #azriel x reader #acotar angst #azriel shadowsinger #sarah j maas #acotar fic

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peachesofteal · 11 months

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oh the image of Darling alone with her newborn daughter, afraid and uncertain 🥺 what if she did call the guys during a moment of vulnerability, begging them to come get her, she can’t do this by herself?

This is my absolute jam. Anon, I love you.

18+ Mature themes Baby trap au Takes place after this

Johnny is having a nice dream.

He knows it's a dream, because you're in it. And instead of seeming sad and tired and overwhelmed, like you looked in the store a few weeks ago, you look happy, and comfortable, beaming up at him with the baby in your arms while she coos sleepily against your chest. Simon stands beside you, hand on your shoulder, peeking over to look at her, before flicking his gaze back to Johnny's, his own smile stretched wide across his face.

There's a shrill, annoying sound in his dream, something that makes him frown, before he redirects his attention, back to you, Simon, and Bee, his baby, that he doesn't even know yet. His family, the pieces that make him whole, that he doesn't get to have.

The shrill sound gets louder, and this time, he can feel himself waking up, being pulled forward into consciousness.

No, no nononono please, let me stay here, let me stay-

"Phone." Simon grunts, mouth hot against his neck, and Johnny pats around the bed for it, before locating the thing under a pillow.

Blocked number? A telemarketer, at this hour? He blinks when he sees the time, 0347, and then blanches when another thought occurs to him.

"Simon." he's sharp with it, word full of intent, and it has Simon jerking awake.

When Johnny tilts the phone screen, his eyes widen.

"Answer it." He barks, and then Johnny slides the call open.

"Hello?" he's holding his breath after he answers, waiting for a response from whoever it could be.

He expects someone, you, hopefully, to say hello, or hi, or anything. But that doesn't happen, instead... the line is quiet. Dead air... but open. Like someone is there. Like someone is listening.

Simon's grip tightens on his knee.

"Hello? Is anyone there?"

He can hear breathing on the other end, light puffs of air, and it emboldens him, encourages him to take a guess, take a chance.

"Darling? Is that you?" He softens his voice, trying to be as gentle as possible, trying to coax you, if it is truly you. The line stays silent for a while, seconds, and then-

"Johnny?" It's your voice, but it doesn't sound like you. You sound... distraught. Your voice is scratchy, pitched with rasp, and he swallows.

"Yes, I'm here. We're here." You're crying now, he can hear it through the phone, and Johnny's heart lurches, while Simon stares at the phone in his hand like it's a bomb.

"J-Johnny." You cry, and he wants to scream at how useless he feels.

"I'm here, I'm here darling. Talk to me."

"I ca-can't." you sound broken, and he looks at Simon in a panic, who has a fist clenched in his hair, eyes wide and wild.

"Can't what?" He asks, but then the baby cries, little wails that turn immediately into screams, and the phone sounds like it's being shuffled. "Can't what, love. Talk to me, tell me what's wrong."

"She's si- ick, and I'm, I- I'm sick and I haven't slept and we both have fevers... I don't know." You echo like you've put him on speakerphone, and he can hear you sobbing, while Bee screeches over the sound. Sick? You're sick? The baby is sick? Panic pounds in his heart, and his mind conjures all of the things that could go wrong to the forefront.

"Where is she?" Simon demands, and Johnny shakes his head while he quickly mutes the mic.

"We can't just barge in on her, she's skittish enough-"

"The fuck we can't. She needs us, Johnny." He's already getting dressed, putting sweatpants on and Johnny's internal battle rages. They could spook you. They could scare you off. They could never see you again. "She needs a bloody doctor, MacTavish. They both do. Ask her. Now." The order stings, and Johnny forces his doubt away.

"Darling... where are you?"

"At my-" Bee screams in the background, and he listens to you try to soothe her, voice cracking as you sing a soft lullaby through your tears before coming back to the phone. "My apartment."

"Will you give us the address? So we can come help?" He tries to ask it gently, tries to ease into it, and then they both hold their breath before you rattle it off in a shaky voice.

"Okay, darling. We're on our way, okay?" Simon calls to the phone while Johnny shoves himself into a sweatshirt, and you make some kind of noise, that sort of sounds like an okay, before saying you're going to hang up to take care of Bee.

"Alright, love. We'll be there soon. Everything's going to be alright."

#peaches asks #baby trap au #peaches writes #ghoap x reader #ghost x soap x reader #soap x reader x ghost

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girlsrawesome64 · 2 months

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What domestic hybrids (like a catgirl basically) the Cod men got >:D

Nikto, Krueger, König, Keegan, Ghost (Soap mention)

W: nonsexual petplay vibes (but romantic?: keegs), stuck kept in house=implied less rights/dependency (brief,: keegs), potential nasty-bleedy ankle injury, mentioned cat injuries/actively avoiding bite (niktokrueger), fear of dog bite/implied animal trauma (ghost), reader disliked, crack premise, dubcon if you think too hard about it, potential for suggestive interpretation, (implied head kinda empty) primal reader

Nikto and Krueger - The last pick, a disheveled erratic cat..thing? Sometimes completely chill, sometimes bouncing off the walls or randomly hostile/biting. Pupils always seem to be narrow and tail twitching no matter what. Krueger had his eye on the bunny, buttt.. You don't truly phase Nikto like you should, even when you're hanging off clamped bit on his bicep and he's shaking you off. Or pulling you off by the collar and affectionately carrying you instead as you scramble. Kitty! :3 Krueger however has a harder time adjusting, running around and keeping his ankles up when you leap on the floor to try and grab and bite them. Nikto makes no effort to stop this, shouting encouragement on which artery to aim for. Both of them have got a scar from you. Eventually you're curled up on Niktos chest, held, purring possessively with one narrow eye open at Krueger, who has been wordlessly banned from a 5ft radius.

König - Bunny. It's soothing to keep you on his lap. (I don't know shit about rabbits ; ELP)

Keegan - Distrusting aloof cat. Doesn't really bother you, but lets you come up to him. Wears you down with casual blissful-feeling pets and teasing praise. Until soon your routine is pacing by the door until he comes back. As soon as he opens it he's bombarded by you, and he hugs you up and kisses your face and neck in response. What's wrong, huh? Catches you hissing at other people that get too close to him and he scratches your head, amused.

Ghost (via Soap) - Ghost didn't want one. Soap got an adorable dog hybrid, with big opaque eyes and one spiky ear that still flops halfway sometimes. Developmental/ breeding flaw, they guess. Humans cruel mark. Ghost tries not to look at you. You're scary and weird. When you chomp down whatever you eat your fangs flash out and it's freaky. But you look at him, confused and innocently curious. He always smells weird. So you go to sniff his knee and he immediately bats you off, adjusting away. If it wasn't for Soap you wouldn't be anywhere near here. But he hangs out with Soap, which means hanging out with..you. His repeated instructions to get you to fuck off don't work, so he reluctantly takes Soaps suggestion and gets out a treat, grimacing at the way your eyes light up near his pliable hands before he chucks it across the room for you to chase. Which just makes it worse, you coming back to him, eyes wide and looking up hopefully at him by his knees. Now every time he comes by you have that hopeful look, sitting as politely and still as possible expecting another treat.

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burstinn · 3 months

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I need more krueger fics (anything) 👉😔

Stalker x Stalker

(Part 1/?)

KRUEGER X M! READER

Notes And Warnings:

- Stalker x Stalker trope

- Stalking on both sides

- Masturbation and jerking off

1.To people without their awareness

2.To a dirty piece of cloth

- Sexual innuendos and thoughts

- NSFW

- no proofreading

- made in a short span of time meaning probably an hour or shorter so this is probably not the best way to yknow..

- made short on purpose because I got lazy

- This is a work of fiction made because I was bored, This should not be followed or replicated or else I will kill myself (>o<)

-made this cuz I didn't write for a good while and I felt bad

You don't know how this even started, He wasn't even acknowledging you the first time you guys met.. Was it his eyes? His accent? Maybe he reminded you of someone.. Shit you didn't care, you stopped caring for a long time now. It's an obsession at this point, You are hidden in your closet. You made a small hole inside of it like a secret room.. Just so you can keep trinkets and everything about.. Him.

Nothing but heavy breathing fills your cramped secret hole.. You need more pictures of him, this is getting out of hand, you're so desperate to feel him in some kind of fucking way it's unbelievable you held back for so long. Smelling one of the missing boxers of his wasn't enough to even satisfy you anymore.

Krueger, Sebastian Josef Krueger.. You scan your wall of pictures.. Pictures of him sleeping, working out, talking, eating, bathing.. Jerking off.. Those pictures were when you got lucky enough to take them and by God do you masturbate to those every night. Wishing one day you'd finally able to make him yours.. You know everything about him, His likes, his dislikes, his family, relatives, who he dislikes, what he does every morning and every night..

And recently you've only just started breaking into his room just to touch him, his face, tracing your finger tips against his jaw line, pressing your thumb against his soft lips.. Fuck,the thought of it makes you so hard.

But right now, you have a mission you need to attend to and the only thing that can calm your nerves is Krueger. Since you couldn't find him anywhere, Your shrine is the best place. You softly press your lips against one of the pictures of Krueger. One day, You will have the balls to actually try and talk to Krueger. You walk out of the closet, leaving with a slightly less grouchy mood. Hopefully the mission would go off without a hitch.

•~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~•

You're gone, The helicopter you got in with your other mates had just left and he watches intently and carefully to see that you actually did leave. Once he sees the heli leave the vicinity he wastes no time walking over to your room.. Not without precautions of course he made sure nobody saw him walk in there.

Fucking finally, Your room empty.. Everything in this room is just you, Your clothes, Your pictures, Your bed, your dirty laundry.

Krueger can't help but feel a short adrenaline rush come over him as makes his way to your desk which was right across from your bed.. He shuffles for a moment under the desk, pulling out a small camera.. He can't wait too watch this later, he doesn't care if you were doing nothing, reading a book, scrolling your phone, jerking off.. He didn't give a single shit he was gonna jerk off to whatever was recorded here anyway.

He pockets the camera, walking over to your bed and just.. Smelling, hugging everything.. You are so intoxicating. How could you do this to him? He knew it was wrong but he was in love, more than in love. Why else was he doing this? He loved everything about you.

Even if this obsession started over nothing special he didn't give a damn, what happened, happened and he's in love with you.

He stands up and grabs one of your dirty briefs from the hamper, making his way back to the bed laying back down and slowly lifting your brief to his nose. Krueger flinches his body getting hot just by the smell of you, He could just.. He shuts his eyes keeping your boxers to his nose.. His other hand shuffling to unbuckle his belt. His hard cock almost immediately throbbing out when he pulls his pants and boxers down.

He rips his gloves out of his hand with his teeth, slow breaths. His mind drifting off to you, naked on your bed.. Your cock out and lonely, desperate for his touch. Bothof you just whining and grunting out his name as you rubs your cocks together, moaning in each other's mouth, your tongues fighting against each other..

He didn't even notice he already came, his cum staining his uniform and on your bedsheets.. Goddamit, He promised himself he was supposed to make sure to not cum on your bed this time. He takes a breath, pocketing your brief as well as he gets up, zipping his pants up.. He should clean this.

Next time he'll be careful, It's only a miracle he doesn't get caught in your room while your sleeping, jerking off to your sleeping figure.

#gay #call of duty x male reader #call of duty modern warfare x male reader #cod mw2 x male reader #cod x male reader #cod x reader #x male reader #krueger x male reader #sebastian krueger #cod krueger #krueger x reader #part 1/?

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sidekick-hero · 5 months

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(steddie | mature | written for the @steddiemicrofic prompt 'hole' | wc: 404 | tags: s3 au, scoops ahoi steve, the d-word makes one appareance)

Eddie is used to life not working out the way he wants it to. In fact, he's come to expect it to.

His mom died when he was barely ten, his dad is a petty criminal who never cared for him beyond what Eddie could do for him.

And while he doesn't think there's anything wrong with living in the trailer park, being poor sucks. Dealing to help out with paying bills sucks. Having people make assumptions about him and call him names and treat him as less than just because of that sucks.

So Eddie tries to keep his head above water, trudge through life without making too many waves and hopefully one day reach the shore where he can get some goddamn rest.

He plays with his band, he DMs at Hellfire and gives the lost little sheep of Hawkins High a place to belong while he works his ass off to finally get that goddamn diploma that means he can leave this shithole town behind.

The last thing Eddie needs is a distraction.

The last thing Eddie needs is Steve fucking Harrington working in an ice cream parlor in a sailor's costume across from the record store he started helping out at during summer break.

The last thing Eddie needs is to see Harrington in that downright indecent outfit, with his pale, hairy thighs on display, begging to be bitten, and his fluffy hair fighting against the silly sailor hat, and his lips all shiny like he's wearing some kind of gloss, making Eddie think of those lips wrapped around his dick.

And the last thing he needs, like a hole in the head, is to find out that Steve Harrington? Is actually a good dude.

He never wanted to learn that, is the thing. But when he finally gives in to his animal brain and goes to the parlor to get some ice cream and ogle Harrington up close, he witnesses him greeting a nerdy kid with an imaginary lightsaber handshake.

Eddie is not proud of it, but after that, he starts coming to the parlor every day to get ice cream, always letting Harrington choose for him, only to see him blush a pretty shade of pink at Eddie's harmless flirting.

A crush on Steve Harrington is the last thing Eddie needs in his life, but it's also the best thing that's happened to him in a long time.

#steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #my writing

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ineffabildaddy · 2 months

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the notes on a recent bookmark of my fic I'm Beginning to See the Light, which made me laugh but also stop short for a sec

cause, i mean, yes, it's a 20k fic of which 15k is porn, but hopefully my work doesn't come across as porn for porn's sake ya know? not that there's anything wrong with that, but in my case... even in my filthiest scenes, [nina voice] i have things to say

#especially in my filthiest scenes actually #good omens #fanfic #ibtstl #ineffabildaddy

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tkaulitzlvr · 6 months

Text

FORGET - T. KAULITZ

synopsis: when tom comes home from rehearsals in a bad mood, you suggest a way to make him feel better.

content: smut

a/n: i hate this but i haven’t posted in a while so hopefully it makes up for my absence. i’m having to reupload this bc for some reason it didn’t show up under any tags when i posted it the first time 😍😍 i love tumblr such a great smooth-running app 💗

the front door opens and closes quickly with a loud thud, soon destroying the peaceful silence that had remained throughout the house all day. it was evening, the sun almost set as it cast a plethora of dark purples and oranges across the cloudless sky. the day had been totally unproductive on my end: tired body sprawled out on the couch, enveloped in soft blankets, hands reaching lethargically to the bowl of popcorn resting in my lap, eyes fixed on the series that i had insisted to spend one hour watching, knowing that i had countless jobs to do - though time quickly passed by until it had totally slipped through my fingers.

tom however, had been the complete opposite of lethargic, having woken up early this morning and leaving for the studio as he had done everyday for the past week, a big show coming up at the weekend that he needed to be well prepared for. he had sealed our lips in a sweet kiss before exiting, embracing me in a quick hug before hurrying out of the door, seeming as happy as he would be any other day. yet the chaotic entrance he displays as he enters the living room tells me that he is not feeling at all content, his jaw clenched, with anger clouding over his expression, painting the beautiful features with a dark stare that admittedly frightens me the second i register his change in mood.

"tom?" i call out, leaning forward as his sultry frame nears my own, walking towards me slowly and slumping onto the couch beside me, maintaining a distance too large to not be questioned, instead of wrapping a gentle arm around my waist and attacking me with kisses as he usually would after a long day like this one.

he utters an almost inaudible 'hey baby', his words tender despite the lack of kindness that his tone and actions display, before letting out a deep sigh and massaging his temples, his head falling backwards in what i can only assume to be frustration. in any normal circumstance, he would be showering me with affection and asking me about my day amidst subtle complaints towards his own. yet he remains distant, eyes skittish, leg bouncing up and down as he refuses to shift his gaze towards mine or make any conversation, creating the questions of whether i am the reason for his current bad mood.

"what's wrong?" i ask, turning to face him and moving closer, placing my hand on his thigh in attempt to bring any comfort, no matter how small.

"nothing." he mutters, refusing to look in my direction, the harsh expression plastered on his face failing to soften. though he doesn't refuse my touch, allowing my hand to run soothingly across his thigh, my touch tentative as i test the waters.

"you don't come home looking this upset every day." i respond, not giving up despite his cold demeanour. my voice is soft, barely above a whisper, not wanting to frustrate him any more than he clearly is, instead opting for a more subtle approach, recognising the comfort that he silently craves. "talk to me."

the gentleness within my tone appears to work in my favour, tom slowly seeming to warm up to me, an exasperated sigh escaping his mouth as he turns to look me, his expression immediately softening, any remnant of tension fading away. he extends his hand outward, placing it on top of my own and giving it a small squeeze, the small act silently saying 'sorry for being a dick', though he quickly verbalises his apology as his mouth opens to speak.

"shit- i'm sorry baby." he mutters, shaking his head in apparent disapproval towards his own actions, the grip that his hand has on mine tightening slightly, his thumb running slowly up and down the skin. "practice was really stressful today, that's all. everyone expects so much of me and it's just a little too much sometimes. i didn't mean to take it out on you, i just-"

i immediately cut him off, resting my head on his shoulder and angling it slightly, allowing our eyes to stay interlocked, a soft smile now etched upon his face, though i can tell it is forced, one that aims to console me instead of signal towards his happiness. "don't apologise, i get it. is there anything i can do to make you feel better?"

"it's okay schatz. i'll be alright." he mutters, resting his forehead against my own. the sudden close proximity allows me to register the rapid change in his eyes, the sea of brown soon taken over by lost as they darken, his gaze flickering from my eyes to my lips. he hesitates though, head nearing towards my own at an unimaginably slow pace, leaning in until our lips eventually touch, sealing in a sweet kiss. he is gentle, choosing to savour the tender moment rather than act on his impulses that are becoming increasingly obvious despite his attempt to hide it. i quickly kiss back, my hands naturally wrapping themselves loosely around his neck, tom's soothing my waist whilst the other reaches not so innocently, grabbing my ass and pulling me onto his lap.

i break apart from the kiss, moving downward slower and slower, hands trailing teasingly down the spread of his thighs, eventually stopping once my head is eye level with his crotch, noticing the way that his bulge becomes prominent through the material of his jeans. this angle allows me to notice his chest heaves up and down, ragged breaths leaving his now parted lips, legs spreading apart to allow my head more space where he wants it most.

"how about..." i mumble, voice low and seductive, lashes batting as my eyes look upward into his own, whilst my fingers reach towards the button of his jeans, making contact with them ever so slightly. "i make you forget about it all. hm? how does that sound baby?"

"mhm." he whines, hands reaching for the button of his jeans, doing so with limited success as i reach to stop him, much to his dismay. "fuck- please, just do something."

"just sit back baby. let me do the work. you're stressed out, i wanna make you feel good." i whisper, slowly moving his hands to rest at his sides, fingers hooking around the zipper of the oversized denim as i tug it downward, eyes never leaving tom's. he hoists his hips upward, allowing me to remove the jeans easier, letting the material pool at his feet, wasting no time before sliding one finger into the waistband of his boxers.

"jesus christ- please, don't tease. need to feel you." he breathes out, his voice low and ragged, clearly unable to withstand the slow pace of my movements, wanting more than just my touch, needing it to travel elsewhere, his boxers an obstacle to his desires.

somewhat pitying his desperation, i nod my head, complying with his plea, my fingers wrapping securely around the cotton, finally pulling them downward, his dick springing from the material, a loud groan sounding from his lips at the feeling. his eyes darken, no longer kind and forgiving as they had been when he was pleading just a few seconds ago. they are different, reflecting the desperation which is made more evident than ever before, no longer concealed by the thin material of his boxers.

and, before he is able to utter another breathy complaint of my hesitance, i soon put any ability to form coherent sentences to bed when my lips make contact with the tip of his dick, hand resting at the base as i slowly take it in, studying the way his mouth falls open, eyebrows threading together as he is unable to do anything but watch in awe, tired lust fuelling his motivation to keep his eyes open, refusing to tear his eyes away from the sight unfolding below him.

the temptation to stop just before taking the final few inches in becomes real once i realise that i cannot take much more, my entire body stopping momentarily to accustom to feeling so completely full, though the motivation of his short moans, quiet and almost unnoticeable, prompt me to go just that little bit deeper, until his tip hits the back of my throat, hand beginning to run up and down what i am unable to fit in.

almost instinctively, his hand threads through my hair, collecting the loose curls within his fingers, threading through it roughly as they begin to craft a makeshift ponytail, though i soon pick up on the true intention of his touch, realising that it is nothing close to resembling innocence, every ounce of intent behind it as i recognise the gentle movements the palm of his hand initiates, encouraging my mouth to move just a little faster.

"fuck schatz- just like that..." he allows a much more obvious moan to sound from the back of his throat this time, no longer concealing his recognition of pleasure that i provide, his walls soon crumbling down when i speed up, deciding that pretending to be in any place other than heaven itself would be foolish, unable to deny the way my mouth moves in just the right way, prompting him to his release faster than ever before.

the tears that soon cloud my vision act as no restraint towards my movements, cheeks hollowing as they tighten around him, the effect that this has on him impossible to deny as he curses under his breath, a guttural moan leaving his parted lips in clear confirmation of his satisfaction, this all i need to sink onto him further, determined to push him towards his release.

and he is clearly not too far away from it, his hips beginning to thrust upward, meeting my own movements as his steady hand on my head becomes not so assured, fingers shakily threading through my hair as he manages to take some control, though not enough to direct the way that my mouth moves. nothing has ever been clearer than his desperation, his hips stuttering more often than they manage to keep their movements contained, his tip repeatedly hitting the back of my throat, tears soon cascading down the tinted skin of my cheeks, the feeling of his dick beginning to twitch inside telling of just how close he is to his climax.

"fuck, don't stop baby, gonna cum..." through his moans he manages to speak, his mouth opening and eyes finally squeezing shut, this the only warning i receive before he shoots his hot cum into my throat as i quickly swallow it, a loud groan following his release. thrusting sloppily into me a few more times, his eyes open slowly, chest heaving up and down, entire body trembling as he comes down, finally allowing my mouth to leave his dick, saliva coating the length once i move away.

even when i adjust myself, collapsing beside him breathlessly, i can tell that this isn't enough for him. he craves more, beyond his fucked out expression, i see that he needs to feel me once again despite the evident fatigue etched upon my face. and he shows no shame in acting on his desires, reaching forward and pressing his lips onto mine once again, the kiss lacking the softness it had before. this time, it hints towards pure lust, desperate touches being nothing more than physical evidence of his hunger.

"just one more baby. can you do that for me?" he mumbles against my lips, our foreheads touching as he hovers above me, my head slowly nodding before i impatiently pull him back downwards, initiating the kiss this time as our lips reconnect once again, this time with more desire. he seems pleased by my sudden acceptance, enjoying the way i reciprocate his movements, craving nothing more than to see me begging for him, no longer looking for the innocence that had initiated whatever ungodly acts that are about to resume. his tongue delves into my mouth, teeth sinking into my bottom lip as he becomes rougher by the second, not interested in wasting time as i had the first time. his hands find the hem of my shirt, pulling it over my head in one swift motion, taking only a few seconds to admire my frame, instead rushing to kiss the soft skin of my neck, his impatience taking any ability to appreciate what is in front of him away, though i know that he silently always will, his actions evidence of his adoration no matter how impulsive they seem.

heavy sighs escape my lips as he continues to mark my neck, hands fumbling with his t-shirt, desperate to remove it. tom quickly catches onto my impatience, removing his lips briefly from my collarbone to discard the material. my eyes immediately lock onto the soft skin trailing from his upper shoulders, gaze ending on his lower stomach, each inch of skin being caressed by my soft touch hand, running carefully over each muscle, the pads of my fingertips making gentle contact with his front whilst we maintain eye contact, the silence only frustrating tom more.

"i need you so bad." he mutters, hands finding the waistband of my leggings, my hips shifting slightly to allow him to tug them down. the air between us is a barrier to him, separating him in every way possible despite its invisibility. i feel it, almost as much as i do his body against my own. i long to be closer to him, yet he is connected to me, our torsos pressed together with our legs intertwined. we are so close, aligned with each other both physically and mentally, but it isn't enough. my heart twists at the gut-wrenching realisation that this moment will not last forever, aching to be intimate with him for every remaining second of my life. and each kiss he plants on my lips i gladly reciprocate, sealing our love in the most pleasurable way possible.

though when his lips kiss just above my panties, i lose all sense of reasoning, all ability to think about anything beyond the feeling of his mouth working against my body. it is enough to send me into a trance, hypnotised by the possibility of being pleasured, using this reality to tune out any thought that doesn't centre around him. he is my oxygen, his touch my endless supply of, the way his hands run along my body casting every worry, every mere uncertainty, even my surroundings away, my mind solely focused on the pleasure he is giving me, every crevice of my body caressed by his wandering hands, until they reach my underwear, tugging them down at an agonisingly slow pace.

"please." it is my turn to beg this time, soon realising how completely irritating it is to be so close to the very thing you want, the feeling soon becoming nothing short of a need as i gaze desperately into his dark brown eyes, willing to plead until my throat turns raw if the reward is feeling him inside me.

"be patient, meine schatz." he briefly responds, joining our lips together whilst one hand reaches behind me to unclip my bra as it quickly falls to the floor along with the rest of our clothing.

i struggle to be as complacent as i had been, failing to hide my growing desire to have him inside me, pulling him downwards into me and clutching his upper back so tightly as if he can slip out of my grasp. this emotion is overwhelming, every inch of me fuelled with utter ecstasy, thoughts of heaven itself seeming pathetic compared to this.

becoming overly impatient, my hands scramble for his underwear, pulling it downwards whilst his lips are attached to my collarbone, leaving purple-ish marks. he quickly pulls away, staring tenderly into my eyes, his gaze carrying thousands of emotions despite the silence between us.

"are you ready?" he whispers, tucking a few strands of hair behind my ear as he positions himself. "tell me if i hurt you, okay baby?"

i nod my head eagerly, knowing that any pain that would come from this would be insignificant in comparison to the pleasure. "i need words honey." he whispers, kissing my cheek repeatedly, finally satisfied when i utter a confident 'yes'. he pushes into me, a choked moan escaping from my parted lips, a slow groan coming from his as he begins to move. the euphoria coursing through every vein, every nerve within me is set alight the second he bottoms out.

it takes a few thrusts for him to create a steady rhythm, and even less for him to recognise the angle needed to drive me close to insane, my eyes rolling to the back of my head as he hits the place where i long for him most. small groans sound from the back of his throat, his heavy breath fanning over my neck with each thrust, head buried tightly into my neck. any chance to get closer to him, i feverishly take, wrapping my legs around his torso, allowing him to hit deeper spots nobody has ever felt before.

"oh fuck..." he mutters, speeding up as his hands find mine, interlocking instantly as he moves them above my head, our eyes catching each other's. the way he looks at me with such love, eyes capturing my own with such tenderness, such desire that it almost pushes me to my climax itself. it is this small act that brings along the realisation that i am hopelessly devoted to him, willing to put myself in almost any situation if it means that i am able to cherish moments like this with him, because without him i am an empty vessel. he fills me up in a way that has me begging for more, a moaning mess beneath him.

"please, don't stop!" i whine tiredly against his lips, feeling my release coming closer as my stomach tightens. desperate to reach it, i slowly begin to move against him, his hips stuttering against me in response, giving me the signal that he is close too.

"i know baby, i know." he recognises how bad i need it, speeding up in spite of his evident lethargy, his breath getting caught in his throat as he thrusts a few more times, throwing his head back and letting out a loud sigh, his release triggering my own. i swear i can see stars, my vision fading away, body so lost in intense pleasure that it is unable to focus on anything else but the steady movements of tom's hips as he rides out our highs.

breathlessly, he collapses on top of me, lazily stroking my hair as his lips are slightly parted, sweat glistening on his forehead whilst he attempts to regain his composure. this time i know he is finished, body tired and exhausted as it rests against my own, the room silent besides from our heavy and irregular breathing.

"thank you baby. always so good for me, love you." his voice is ragged, throat raw and tired, yet he exercises his limited energy to remind me of our love, his lips planting a slow kiss on my forehead.

requests are open! keep sending them in!!

#tom kaulitz #tokiohotel #kaulitz twins #tom kaulitz smut #tomkaulitz #tom kaulitz x reader #kaulitz #tom kaulitz fluff #tom kaulitz angst #bill kaulitz #bill kaulitz x reader #tokio hotel

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dr-spencer-reids-queen · 9 months

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A Big Misunderstanding

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.6k

Warnings: mentions of being tortured, your partner is killed because of it, your coworkers blaming you for their death, migraines, deaf in one ear, feeling less than by hotch, fluff at the end

Request by anon: Read the request here!

Summary: You're a new transfer to the team without Hotch knowing about it You needed to escape harassment and tragedy from your other job, so Strauss places you as the new techy girl alongside Penelope. Everyone welcomes you with open arms but Hotch, and it's starting to affect your physical health.

Square Filled: guilty conscience for @badthingshappenbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

This is it. This is the first day of your new career, new life, and hopefully with a new family to call your own. The last one didn’t end up so well for you. You’re hoping to start something new with all new people and a brand-new attitude. You walk into work with your purse slung over your shoulder and enter the bullpen. There are so many people busting their asses, moving about the large area, and doing work at their computers. A black man walks past you with coffee in his hand, and you quickly stop him.

“Hi, where can I find Agent Hotchner?”

“Up the stairs. His office is right in front of it.”

“Thank you,” you smile and walk past him.

Agent Hotchner is sitting in his office looking over one of the files Spencer sent over to him when you knock on the door.

“Come in.” You knock again when you don’t hear anything. “Come in.”

This time you do. Hotch is floored by your beauty when you walk in but he remains stoic. He doesn't want to give away just how beautiful he thinks you are.

“Hi. My name is Y/N. I am here about the technical analyst position available.”

“There is no position available. I’m sorry, you must have the wrong department.”

“You’re Agent Hotchner with the BAU, correct? I was sent here to start with Penelope Garcia.”

“Who sent you?”

“I’m sorry?” you ask when you didn’t hear him speak. You move your right ear closer to him so you can hear better. “Can you repeat that?”

“Who sent you?” he asks more sternly.

“Cheif Strauss.”

Hotch doesn’t say a word and picks up his desk phone to call the Chief. She never told him she would be sending anyone over, and he never requested for a new person to join the team.

“Hello, Agent Hotchner.”

“Chief Strauss. I have Agent Y/N here saying she’s going to be working with our technical analyst. Am I hearing this correctly?”

“Yes, I sent her over there to be transferred.”

“Without talking to me about it?”

“I don’t feel like I have to tell you everything I do. She will be joining your team. I assume you’re perfectly capable of training her?”

“Yes ma’am.” Hotch hangs up and looks at you with a sigh. “The team and I are meeting right now to go over a case. You’re more than welcome to join us.”

You bite your lower lip nervously. You hate coming across as dumb but you really can’t hear what he’s saying when he speaks in a low tone or mumbles.

“I’m sorry, can you repeat that?”

“I said you can join us. We’re about to be briefed.”

He gets up and walks out of his office with a hard look on his face. He hates himself for thinking you’re so beautiful when he’s going to be your boss. Dating you or even thinking about dating you is inappropriate, so he’ll try to keep this as professional as possible. You haven’t even started your first day and you’re already off to a bad start. Still, you chalk this up to a rough start and follow him into the briefing room where the rest of the team is at.

“Team, this is Agent Y/N. She will be starting today as a technical analyst that will be working side-by-side with Garica. Y/N, these are Agents Prentiss, Reid, Morgan, Rossi, Jareau, and our technical analyst Penelope Garcia.”

“What’s your name again?” you ask the blonde and sit next to her.

“Penelope Garcia. You’ll have so much fun working with me. I like to keep it cool in the office,” she smiles.

You can tell you’re gonna get along with her easily.

“Let’s begin,” Hotch says and looks at JJ.

JJ places crime scene pictures on the screen for everyone to see. Some are of a crushed vehicle and others are of victims who have been crushed by a vehicle. Penelope gasps and looks away so she can keep some decency while you look on in curiosity.

“An unsub that kills with his car? I haven’t seen that before,” Emily says.

“Neither have the police in Bend, Oregon which is why they need our help. There have been two victims in the last twelve days. The first victim is Maria Delgado, twenty-three. She was hit on a morning jog. The second victim is Shannon Makely, forty-three. She was stranded on the side of the road when her car broke down.”

“What makes the locals think that they were connected?” you ask, trying to be part of the conversation.

“For one thing, they were both backed over after the initial impact. This wasn’t an accident. Plus, they matched treads in both scenes. They were large wheels for all terrain. Their wounds also indicated a raised bumper, so they’re thinking a large SUV to a truck. When we land, I want a list of everyone who owns a vehicle for all-terrain.”

“What?” you ask and look at his lips to read what he’s saying.

He shoots you an annoyed look which makes you sink into your chair in embarrassment.

“Garcia, get me the list.”

“Sure,” she nods and looks at you.

“Do they know the make or model?” Derek asks, moving the conversation along.

“No. The tires are made for multiple kinds of vehicles.”

“Were there any witnesses to either incident?”

“No, both victims were attacked in secluded areas.”

“Two tons of metal make a hell of a weapon,” Derek says.

“Serial killers have been known to become rather attached to their vehicles. Bittaker and Norris even gave theirs a nickname. Murder Mac,” Spencer explains.

“Bittaker and Norris were sexual sadists. There's no sign of torture here. This sounds like thrill kills for easy targets randomly selected. We need to think about if they’re not random. We need to see if there is a connection between the two victims.”

“With this type of impact, the vehicle shouldn't be hard to pick out of a lineup. There should be significant front-end damage.”

“Somehow I don't think it's gonna be that easy,” Rossi shrugs.

“Well, I think it's safe to assume our unsub is male,” Emily states. “A big car is phallic like he’s overcompensating for something. Maybe he’s impotent. If the unsub sees himself as physically defective, the car not only gives him the power and control he otherwise lacks, but it also serves as a shield.”

“Maybe a way to avoid physical contact?” Hotch asks.

“Now we’re going in a different direction. Power, control, and female victims equal up to a rape profile.”

“Rape and thrill kills are two very different profiles. What does victimology tell us?”

“Nothing, yet. Shannon Makely was a white, married, commodities trader. Maria Delgado was a Hispanic grad student and a competitive tri-athlete.”

“So far, gender's our only link. Hopefully, the crime scenes will tell us more. Garcia, Y/N, I want you with us on this one. Y/N, do you have a go-bag?”

“No.”

Hotch sighs in annoyance but Penelope saves the day.

“Come on, I’ll show you where I keep my go bag.”

You don’t mean to be a pain in the ass especially on your first day, but you’re really trying to fit in here. You used to be an active agent that was really good out in the field. You passed every test with flying colors and were up for a promotion within your field.

Until one day when you and your partner went undercover.

You two were captured by a well-known drug lord who was known for torture and gang violence. He knew one of you was FBI but didn’t know exactly which one. He tortured both of you until one of you confessed, but it’s not like you two were going to give the other one up. If only you had told him you were the FBI agent then he wouldn't have killed your partner. Your partner died because of you, and when your team busted in to try and save you two, the explosion from the blast they used shot your hearing so bad you became deaf in your left ear. If you get stressed too much then you start to get migraines and Strauss knows this.

Seeing Hotch behave this way starts a small headache you know won’t go away if he continues. You would have recovered and stayed with your original team if they didn’t harass you every day and blamed you for your partner’s death. Strauss knew it was a problem when you came into her office crying because of them.

You hope this team isn’t going to be like your last otherwise, you’ll have to find a new line of work.

“Are you sure I should come along?”

“You’ll do great,” Penelope encourages.

You and Penelope meet everyone on the plane. They discuss the case some more but you only listen this time. You want to see how each person is just by observing instead of butting in and trying to be like one of them. Plus, you’re not a profiler so you’ll leave this one to the team.

Your only focus is the computers and the technical world. When you were recovering from your accident, you taught yourself how to code and hack since you were bedridden for months. You got to the point where you impressed Strauss with your skills which is why she put you on this team. They don’t necessarily need you but this is the only team she can put you on without having to fire you altogether.

When the plane landed, you and Pen elope set up shop in the police station surrounded by laptops. One of the crime scenes happened near a security camera which is what Penelope is working on. You’re getting that list for Hotch of everyone who owns an all-terrain vehicle and cross-referencing if they still live in the state or not. This is what you like to do post-kidnapping. This gives you a different kind of comfort than being out on the field.

“Garcia, anything?” Derek asks.

“Not yet, sugar. Give me a few more minutes.”

“Y/N, I have a list of suspects PD already has in mind. Cross-reference those who are already on your list,” Hotch orders.

“I’m ready when you are.”

Hotch starts listing off names from your left side so it’s kind of hard to hear him. You don’t want to make a scene and ask him to move so you try your best to put in the right name. Hotch watches as you type in the names and sees you’re typing in the wrong names.

“No, I didn’t say Millie Bael, I said Lily Ball. Are you not listening to me?”

You’re trying really hard not to cry right now and your head hurts so much. Derek sees the look of despair and pain on your face and puts a hand on his shoulder.

“Hotch, take it easy. It’s her first day.”

“Sorry, Lily Ball,” you mutter and type in the name.

After twenty minutes of almost wanting to cry, you narrow down your list to ten suspects. Penelope didn’t find good coverage on the security footage so she is looking into half of the men on the list while you get the other half.

“Look into the history of each suspect. I don’t want any stone unturned, understand?” You’re staring at Hotch’s mouth to read what he’s saying. Ever since becoming deaf, you’ve gotten good at reading lips. “Do you understand?”

You jump at the sudden change in tone.

“Yes, sir. I will look into the history of each ma and cross-reference them with accidents they might have been in.”

“That’s not at all what I said. I don’t even know why you’re on this team. We never had an issue with having just one technical analyst.”

Tears brim the surface of your eyes but you won’t let them fall. It’s only the first day. I’ll get better. Hotch walks away with a scoff and a shake of his head, and you fall onto your chair with a sigh.

“I don’t know why he’s being so hard on you. He’s never like this,” Spencer says.

Emily, Derek, and Rossi are out right now leaving you, Spencer, Penelope, and JJ alone in the conference room.

“I don’t mean to be this way. I was never like this.” You explain your past to them--the drug lord, getting kidnapped, tortured, injured, and harassed every single day. “I needed out of that job. I was so excited to be put here but Hotch is only reminding me of my coworkers. Hopefully, he’ll ease up on me.”

He didn’t.

For the rest of the case, Hotch continued to be hard on you even when the team defended you. Every little thing you did Hotch criticized, even if what you did was completely right. He always had something to say about something, and by the end of the case, your headache is at an all-time high.

While on the plane ride home, you tried to get some sleep. The migraine plus the stress Hotch is putting on you is enough to send your mind into a nightmare. A nightmare about what you could have done differently to save your partner. Hotch sits in his chair and watches you without anyone noticing him. He knows he’s been hard on you but he hates anyone new coming in and ruining the dynamic between the teammates that are already here.

You gasp awake and scare everyone from the sudden noise, and Hotch’s eyes narrow.

“Are you okay?” JJ asks.

“Yeah. I’m sorry,” you whisper.

“Y/N. When we land, you and I need to have a conversation with Chief Strauss about your future here.”

“I’m sorry,” you say as a tear rolls down your cheek.

“Hotch,” JJ says to defend you. However, you’re already getting out of your seat and going into the bathroom to have some time alone to yourself. “Why are you being so hard on her?”

“Have you not been with her the entire time? She always asks me to repeat myself and she can’t follow instructions.”

“She was in an accident. She used to be a really good agent. I looked her up,” Spencer says.

“Her former team blamed her for the death of her partner, and she became deaf in her left ear after being tortured for information,” JJ finishes.

Now Hotch feels like shit. His face doesn’t give away how he’s feeling but deep down, he’s feeling like the worse piece of shit ever. He tries to talk to you when the plane lands but you escaped to grab your things to get the hell out of there. You’re almost at the elevator when Hotch stands in your way.

“Sir?”

“I want to apologize for how I’ve been treating you. I’ve been completely unfair to you without understanding who you are as a person and as an agent. I’ve always been reserved with new people on this team which is something I know I need to work on.”

“I don’t mean to do this on purpose. I’m assuming JJ and Spencer told you what happened to me?”

“Yes. If you’ll accept my apology, I’ll work on making you part of this team as if you started here on day one.”

“That’ll take months, I’m afraid, but apology accepted,” you smile.

Yup, you’re going to be the death of him. Your smile is too damn beautiful not to see in his office every day, and he’s gonna do everything he can to keep it there.

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