#greasy blonde hair? check

[the-hopeless-haze]

The writers of House MD really said let’s write the WORST possible white man of all time and they created Robert Chase MD

[callumsluvr]

redemption

Summary:

 In which Y/N Thomas is left to raise her and Rafe Cameron’s baby after he refuses to take responsibility for it. He shows up after two years, ready to redeem himself, but is it too late?

Prologue:

The doorbell ringing wakes your sleeping toddler. Quietly cursing whomever is at the front door, hoping that they leave, you walk to your little boy's room to calm him down. “Hi sweet boy, momma’s here. ‘S okay, just the doorbell.” You say quietly, while walking over to his toddler bed. “Do you want a snack? Let’s get you a snack.” You get him in his highchair and cut up some strawberries for him to eat while you go check to see who was at the front door. When you look out the window, you see someone who had sworn himself out of your life 2 years ago. Rafe Cameron. 

Your eyes widen as you see him standing there, taller, buffer, tanner. He looks good, and you hate it. His buzzed hair is just as blond as it’s always been, but the linen button down is new. When you knew him he still had greasy, longer hair and would never be caught dead wearing business casual. You wonder what he could possibly be doing at your home in Charleston, but you have kept up with his sister, Sarah, so it’s no surprise that he’s eventually tracked you down. 

You slowly open the door. “Rafe?” He’s speechless, you look even better than you did when you were 20. Even after the baby. “Hi Y/N.” He says, ever so charming. “How are you?” He smiles, hoping to recover from the moment of weakness he had shown. Furrowing your brows, you stare at him. “What are you doing here?” You ask, hiding yourself mostly behind your front door. “I’m in town for a conference. Was hopin’ we could talk.” He says, trying to stay casual. “I’m really busy, sorry, Rafe.” Hoping that will shoo him off. 

Suddenly, a little voice can be heard, “Momma!” Rafe’s eyes widen and his breath quickens, he knows who it is. It’s the person he came to see in the first place. “Do you need to get that, Momma?” He asks, too playfully for your opinion. You furrow your brows again. “Yep. Sorry, Rafe. Very busy. Have a good time in Charleston.” While you start to close the door, leaving him standing on your front porch. 

Rafe knocks on the door again, praying that he can get through to you. “Y/N, please I just want to talk to you.” He says, “We don’t even have to talk right now, but I want to talk at some point and this is the only way I can get to you.” He states, through the front door. You get your 2 year old, Crew, settled in the living room, and open the front door again, Rafe looks in and gets a glimpse of the toddler. Dirty blond hair, big blue eyes, and definitely taller than the average 2 year old. His eyes widen and he feels a wave of guilt cross through him. You follow his line of sight and quickly cover the little boy. “If you want to talk, we can talk tomorrow. I have the day off, and Crew will be at daycare. There’s a cafe down the street, it’s right by the flower shop and Ralph Lauren. I’ll see you there at 10 am.” You say, flustered, before closing the door. Leaving Rafe standing on your porch, dumbfounded.

[luvfy0dor]

"How Gorgeous !!" BSD x GN!Reader

╰┈➤ Fyodor, Nikolai, Chuuya♡

Warnings; yk the drill; probably a little ooc, other than that pure fluff, dyed hair Nikolai bc I saw some people who REALLY dislike blonde Nikolai so I'm just gonna put that as a warning

Description; Select bsd boys letting you do stuff with their hair

A/N; I'm so sorry to the two people in my requests I know dad Fyodor anon is there and so is another rlly cute request, Im thinking stuff up I pinky promise :(( im not ignoring anyone istg I'm just having severe writers block so when i got this idea i wrote it out as fast as possible just to have something out for yall, i hate posting only twice a week.

Fyodor Dostoevsky ༉‧₊˚.

Fyodor enjoyed having his hair washed, he liked the feeling of your soft fingers massaging his scalp while he hummed, very pleased with the favor you had stepped up to do for him.

Scenario !! ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

The sound of water splashing against the porcelain of the tub filled the bathroom as you drew a bath for Fyodor and yourself. His plans were all over the place as of late, and you felt maybe a nice bath and head massage might soothe him a bit. His hair was getting a bit greasy under that ushanka, and you weren't gonna just let him go about his day overworked and musty.

You could hear the door unlock, along with the soft tapping of Fyodors boots, coming to a pause and being momentarily substituted by the clicking of the lock. You stood up, shaking the water off of your hand from checking the temperature and turning to him.

"Hi Fedya, how's your work coming along?" You ask, removing the ushanka from his head and brushing his bangs away from his face. He hums and rests his head on yours, his hands gently stroking your back. "It's not coming along very well, if I'm honest, dear." He sighs retracting from the hug and starting to remove his shoes and unbutton his shirt. "Very stressful."

You nod in understanding, sliding his shirt off his shoulders while he undoes the final buttons. "Things will work out for you, they always do." You say. You both finish undressing and get into the tub, Fyodor sitting between your legs and kinda leaning back against you, his eyes closed as he sighs, clearly relaxed. You fill your cupped hand with water and spill onto his head, the droplets trickling down the thin strands of his midnight colored hair.

His steady breathing was your indicator that he was feeling at the very least a little better. You pumped some shampoo into your hand and ran it through his hair, your fingertips rubbing against his scalp, drawing soft sounds of contentment from his lips. Filling a small, nearby cup with water, you gently poured it over his head and rinsed out the suds. Some of the water drips down his face, small drops catching in his eyelids as his head leans back. You smile at his small reactions.

"Mmn, that feels very nice, my dear." He murmurs, the corners of his lips being tugged into a small smile, a smile of leisurly pleasure. "Good." You reply while you begin lathering conditioner in the ends of his relatively long hair. The scent of the tea tree conditioner only added to the lingering fragrance of the matching shampoo. Fyodor liked the smell of tea tree, and if he didnt use that, he used faint floral scents. You run your fingers through his straight hair, parting a couple of pieces and starting to absent-mindedly braid them together, weaving the strands over and under each other.

Fyodor tilts his head back a bit more, rotating it to look at you. "Are you thinking about anything in particular?" He questions, his gaze soft. You shake your head, running your fingers through the braided hair pieces, ultimately undoing it. "No, not really." And it was the truth. The two of you were basking in the moment the way a lizard does in the sun. Your hand snakes down to grab onto his, giving it a soft squeeze which he returns. After washing yourselves off, you stand up and wrap towels around yourselves once you've initially rid most of the drops of water from your skin. You both get dressed in pajama pants, a tee shirt for you and a sweater for Fyodor, a smaller towel around his neck.

The towel is visibly wet as Fyodor leans against the sink, watching you ruffle your hair to dry it. "Fedya, your towel is soaked. Here, let's blow dry your hair." You say, reaching into one of the drawers of the sink, pulling out the blow-dryer and plugging it into the wall. "We could always towel dry it and save money on the electricity bill." He says, starting to squeeze any remaining water out of his hair with the towel.

"It's fine, trust me, it's not like it's upping the bill a trillion dollars." You say, the nozzle of the blow-dryer pointed just downwards of Fyodors chin, aimed towards the (a little more than) damp ends of his hair. "Alright, alright." He nods at your response. "Okay, ready?" You ask, your finger hovering over the 'on' switch. "Mhm." He nods with a soft smile, and with that you flick on the blow-dryer to the lowest setting. The air is hot as you move the dryer from side to side, not allowing the heat to be directed to one spot and burning Fyodors skin.

Fyodor listens to the whir of the blow dryer with his eyes closed, his eyebrows furrowing when the warm air hits his forehead as you get his bangs. You laugh at his expression under your breath and ruffle his hair a bit to dry the roots better. Once his hair was...well, dry enough, the sound of the hair dryer came to a halt. His eyes opened again, their purple color as beautiful as ever under the dim bathroom light. His hand goes to cup your cheek, his thumb caressing your skin, as he places a soft kiss on the corner of your lips. When he pulls away, he's giving you a small, faint smile.

"Thank you for pampering me, it is a wonderful feeling." He quietly says, one of his hands on the bottom of your neck. You nod and give him a full kiss on the lips in response. "You're welcome, I love doing that type of stuff for you. I like playing around with your hair." You state, pushing a strand behind his ear. You stare into each other's eyes for another couple of seconds before he leans backwards, unlocking and opening the door. The cold air from the rest of the house causes you to shiver a little.

"Would you like to join me for some tea before bed?" He asks, standing in the doorway. You nod and follow him, flicking the light off behind you as you both make your way to the kitchen. He starts to boil the water in a kettle, grabbing a tea bag from the cabinet for each of you. He waits for the water to reach it's boiling point and leans against the counter, gently pulling you into his chest. You smile and wrap your arms around his torso, one hand reaching up to twirl some of his hair around your finger. He sighs softly, leaning his head backwards and into your touch. When the water is finally ready, he softly guides your body to the side, walking past you to fill the mugs with water and dip the tea bags in. After a couple moments, he hands you your cup, sipping from his.

"Thank you, my love." You murmur with a appreciative smile while taking a sip yourself. He nods. "Ofcourse, dear."‧₊˚.

Nikolai Gogol ༉‧₊˚.

Nikolais hair isn't just white naturally, obviously, so whenever his hair needed to be touched up, he turns right to his lover to help him out. He tried doing it himself and nearly ended up with bald spots from forgetting about the bleach and leaving it on for WAY too long.

Scenario !! ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

Although they weren't those most noticable thing in the entire world, Nikolais roots were starting to show. You had noticed though, ofcourse, because you spend a lot of time around him. Every time the taller man was snoring in your arms, your eyes drifted down to the forming tufts of dark blonde hair peeking through the white, shiny strands. You made him aware of it, and he sent you off to get bleach and toner after he couldn't find any around the house. That conversation was exactly what landed you in the hair aisle of the store closest to you.

You inspected the packaging of each dye until you could deem one a good enough and trustworthy brand. You brought it up to the register and payed for it, exiting the store and driving back home. The weather was rather gloomy and rainy today, making you skitter quickly through the driveway and to the door. Pushing it open, you sigh having finally escaped the rain. Though it wasn't pouring, it was still not something you wanted to stand in for all that long. "Kolya!" You called out to your boyfriend through out the halls of your home, taking off your shoes and jacket.

Upon fully standing up, you went to walk further into the house just as you could see a yellow light starting to form behind you. You laugh a bit before turning around. "How many times do I have to tell you, you're not gonna be able to scare me by doing that." You say with a playful eyeroll. His head fully pokes through the portal. "You can tell me as many times as you want, dear, that doesn't mean I'm not gonna try it." He says with a grin, his hand popping through the portal to gently guide your face closer to his. He presses a kiss to your cheek before he fully comes through the portal.

"You got the bleach?" You nod, holding up the box. "Yeah, c'mere, we'll touch up your roots right now." He follows you into the bathroom as you pry open the box, shaking the contents onto the sink counter. You grab the gloves and slide your hands into them before turning to Nikolai. "Here, go sit on the edge of the tub so I can do this accurately." You say, pointing in the direction of the bathtub. He nods and sits down, his feet in the tub with his back facing you. You stand with your hands on your hips while reading the directions and grabbing the packet of bleach powder. Nikolai peers at you over his shoulder, grinning at your face of concentration.

You mix the bleach with the developer together in the bowl, setting it back on the counter once it's the right consistency and walking over to Nikolai. "Your hair is so long, Kolya." You say, undoing his usual braid and starting to section his hair as he smiles. "Ofcourse it is! Its been growing for a long time, my dove." He replies with a grin, feeling your hands part his hair and clip certain pieces in certain places to keep them separated. You started applying the bleach to his roots, his soft 'tee-heeing' being heard over the sound of the bleach being applied to his hair, apparently in a ticklish way.

"Does it tickle that much?" You ask, grabbing another bit of his hair. He nods. "Yes, yes it does." He beams, kicking his feet up onto the other edge of the tub.

Upon making it all the way around your boyfriends head, you proudly stood back to observe your work; the blue substance already lightening the first bits of hair you worked on. "It's already working, Kolya, your hair will be renewed in like...well, the box says twenty minutes." You say, inspecting the piece of cardboard. "Oh, I'm sure you did such a wonderful job. I'm so excited to see it." Nikolai says, standing up from his place on the side of the tub.

"Wait a minute," you say, exiting the bathroom and heading to the kitchen before returning, ripping a piece of aluminum foil from the roll you had fetched. "If we stick this on your head, it'll go quicker." He laughs and pats the foil down on his head, nodding. "And why is that?" You think for a moment. "It traps heat and stuff." You say, stepping out of the bathroom and into the hallway, Nikolai following you. "Oh wow! My dove is just so smart!" He says with his cheeky little grin. You playfully roll your eyes and toss your gloves in the garbage can.

"That's basic, I feel like everyone knows that. I think you know that too, but you just wanted to hear that from my mouth." He nods, resting his hand on your shoulder. "See? What a genius." You quietly scoff.

You wait out the twenty minutes with Nikolai, talking about whatever silly stuff comes to mind. When the timer on your phone rings, you crumple up Nikolais make shift aluminum hat and tossing it in the garbage. You examine the roots of his hair, which are a very pale yellow. You shrug it off and bring him to the bathroom, rinsing the bleach out of his hair and shampooing and conditioning it with his head under the tub faucet. You put a towel over his head and ruffle his hair, examining it once more.

"Oh, it's not that yellow." You murmur. "The toner will fix that, and then you'll be twinning with Fukuchi again." You say, your eyes scanning the bathroom counter for the box with the toner. You raise an eyebrow when you come to realize it's not there. You must have left it in your car, so that's where you head with a soft hum of confusion. Bolting out to your car, trying to avoid the rain, you're met with a toner-less sight. You sigh.

"I didn't even buy it." You say to Nikolai exasperatedly while simultaneously scanning your receipt, and unsurprisingly finding only the bleach. "Aw, don't worry! We can get it when the rain clears up, I won't make you go out again." He insists, pulling you into his chest. You just sigh and wrap your arms around him. "Yeah, you're right." You murmur, your body limply leaning against his. He pats your back.

"Come sit down with me, we should play a board game or a card game. They're perfect for rainy days, don't you agree?" He says, plopping down on the couch. "I do agree. Do you have a preference for a specific game right now?" He thinks for a moment before shaking his head. "No, not in particular." You go off to find a good game for the both of you to play, settling on Uno. "Okay Kolya, quiz time! What game do I have?" You say, imitating your boyfriend. He giggles at your impersonation of him, placing a finger on his chin while thinking. "Hmm, I'm gonna guess Uno." He says. You nod, making him grin.

"I guess we're both quite smart then, dove! Let's play, shall we?" He pats the seat on the couch next to him, making you smile as you nod and walk over to sit with him. ‧₊˚.

Chuuya Nakahara ༉‧₊˚.

Chuuya didn't really entrust many people with the task of cutting his hair and keeping it a constant length, but with one hell of a lot of convincing, he decided to let you try it.

Scenario !! ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

Walking down the hallway, you had a little more pep in your step than usual. Your boyfriend finally decided he trusted you enough with his hair to let you trim it. Whether you have experience with cutting hair or not didn't matter, you were determined to make this the best haircut Chuuya would get in his entire life.

You only did minimal preparation for this, and by minimal preparing you had some kitchen scissors, a comb, and a brush. As you turned the corner into your shared bedroom, you saw your red-headed boyfriend sitting on the edge of the bed, seemingly rethinking his decision. "Alright, Chuuya! I'm gonna give you the best trim of your life, trust me." You say, waving him into the bathroom to follow you. He does with a nervous sigh, standing next to you in the mirror.

"Alrigh, Chuuya. How much do you want off?" You ask, starting to brush out his un-even hair. "No more than half an inch doll, don't get me wrong, I love and trust you and all but.." he murmurs, staring at you through the mirror.

"Oh no, I get that, I would NEVER let you do this to me." You say, combing through his hair. "What?!" He says, a shocked look on his face. You laugh a bit before grabbing the scissors. "Im joking, don't worry." You reassure him, cutting off some hair on the back of his head. He hears the scissors cut a bit off and his eye twitches.

You continue snipping away, little clusters of his hair fall onto his shoulders and onto the floor. You could see his eyes following every chunk as it dropped, hitting the floor tiles after drifting from side to side for a couple moments. "Chuuya, it looks perfectly fine so far, don't worry." You proudly state, grabbing a hold of some of the longer hair, combing it out and cutting off a half inch of it as he asked. "I'm not too sure about that, but whatever you say, darlin'." He mumbles, his intense stare aimed at you. It wasn't aggressive or mean, but a bit anxious.

You continued, pulling at pieces of Chuuyas hair, one small section at a time, really putting your heart and soul into his trim. Once you had decided you were done, you stepped back and grabbed a smaller mirror, turning Chuuya around and handing it to him. "Here, look! It turned out very well, if I do say so myself." He thoroughly assessed it before nodding.

"Alright, you're right, it doesn't look nearly as bad as I thought it would." He says, ruffling it a bit before brushing it out and putting his hat on. "Oh, did you not have any faith in me at all?" You playfully scoff, your hands on your hips. He grins and shakes his head. "Don't you worry doll, I've got plenty of faith in you. My faith doesn't lie in your barber skills, though." He says, his gloved fingers guiding your chin closer to his face, his soft lips gently colliding with yours, making you smile. His thumb gently caresses your jawline.

When he pulls away, he doesn't go far. He murmurs a couple of soft words against your lips. "You did real good though, I must admit." He says, admiring his hair in the mirror, running his fingers through it.

"Im glad you like it." You say, observing his hair, too. "Maybe I should let ya do my hair more often." He looks over at you with a small grin. You laugh a little and nod. "Yeah, maybe you should."

[superdupersunny420]

A Little Visit - Sam (Stardew Valley) x GN Reader

wk - 1.6k

Blurb - Poor farmer hasn’t had a lot of motivation to do… anything really. A certain blonde skater wanted to check up on them.

Sam is such a cutie and he’s all over my tiktok right now so, first fic had to be him <3

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

You hadn’t written a letter to your parents in a while. Your mom made sure to write often and your dad often put little messages into her letters for you. The motivation to get up to a desk or table never really hit, at least that was at the start.

No motivation to write a letter moved to no motivation to plant any seeds for the season and when it hit the 11th day of summer, you had no motivation to get up and go to the Luau. Spending all day in bed, only getting up to go to the bathroom or get something to eat, felt better than having to get up and ready for the day. If someone of Pelican Town were to ask why you have been hiding away in your little home on the farm, you wouldn’t have much of an answer for them, a shrug of your shoulders at most. As much as it sucks for you to not have an answer, it’s just the way it’s always been. Periods of time where even the simplest of tasks would be so difficult for you, where even simply getting out of bed is such a chore that you can hardly achieve it.

‘Maybe that’s why my parents have been sending me letters more often.’ They probably realise that you’re in one of your… moods.

However, your mopping around was interrupted by a knock on the door. Debating on whether you actually wanted to get up and answer, the knock progressively got louder until you flung the blanket off you and waddled your way over. You didn’t know what you were expecting but it definitely wasn’t the blonde hair boy you’ve been crushing on practically since you’ve come to pelican town.

Sam stood at your door, a sheepish smile on his face scratching the back of his neck.

“Hey.”

You quickly shut the door in his face. You knew you looked a mess; in the same clothes you’ve been sleeping in for… who knows how many days. Your hair greasy and messy from doing nothing except lying in bed in the heat. He couldn’t see you like this and oh god, the farm. You haven’t been out to tidy the farm in a while and your lack of crops must have been a pathetic sight.

“Um… you okay?”

But that’s also when you realise you can’t just leave Sam standing outside. He was obviously here for a reason, one of which you weren’t even willing to hear him out on before rudely slamming a door in his face. So after a few seconds of peptalk and mentally preparing for socialising, you opened the door once again.

“Sorry bout’ that. Um, ignore the appearance, I… haven’t got ready today?”

It sounded a lot more like you were trying to convince yourself than him, but Sam didn’t point it out, he just smiled. The same cute grin he always has on his face, the one that brought butterflies to your stomach and made your heart skip a beat. It was a weird thing to think about, the fact that whether you’re fully presentably or looking the messiest, he still has the same look in his eyes.

“Ha, no problem! I just thought I would swing by, see how things are.”

Oh. Well, guess he must have noticed you haven’t been out much.

You pushed open your door to allow him to come in and offered him a Joja Cola (knowing he liked them) all the while getting yourself a drink and trying to make yourself look at least a little more presentable. After grabbing drinks, you both take a seat at the small table. Sam looked around, feeling a bit awkward with what to do. He’s come over to the farmers house but doesn’t really know what to do now. ‘Hey, I’ve noticed you’ve not left your house in like 11 days? What’s up with that? Also, I lowkey miss our chats and you so where have you been?’ wouldn’t really be the way to go about this all.

“So is everything okay? Did you need something?”

No time for him to think though, Sam looked at you with an unreadable expression on his face.

“Uh, yeah- no. But…”

He took a second, taking a sip of his Joja Cola and putting the can down, looking at his hands for a second before looking back at you with a face of concern.

“I don’t want to be nosey or be pushing you in anyway, but I’ve noticed you’ve not really been, out? You weren’t at the Luau either. I just… I don’t know, I was worried for you. You’re always about the town, it’s weird not seeing you around anymore.”

You stare at Sam for a second, processing what he just said. You never really realised that other people would care, or even realise that you weren’t up and about. You really didn’t really know what to say, only having it in you to look at him with a frown on your face.

“Obviously, if you don’t want to talk about it that’s fine! But, I’ve got no plans today and I’m not at work so if you’re wanting some company?”

Sam smiles, the same stupid grin on his face and you can’t help the small smile on yours as tears well up in your eyes.

“Sam, I- You’re too sweet.”

Pink rushes to Sam’s checks and he waves one of his hands in the air.

“Hey! What friend would I be if I left you in here all alone.”

You shuffle a bit in your seat and look down at your hands, knowing that Sam was still waiting for an answer to his original question (are you okay?). You’ve never really opened up too many people before, only your mom and dad knowing about your problems, it’s hard for you to be honest. But, Sam sits, a small reassuring smile on his face, one hand holding his can of Joja Cola, and his other being used as a head rest. His eyes held no judgment, and he gave no indication that you were in a rush. He was willing to sit there for as long as you needed.

“I don’t know, I just… I always have periods where I just, lose all my motivation. It sounds stupid I know.”

Sam shakes his head and goes to butt in; however, you don’t let him. If you don’t get it all out now you don’t think you’ll be able to push yourself to get it out later.

“And I know it’s not that simple. I can’t just stop being a functioning human being but its’s so, so hard. I can hardly get out of bed, which means I’ve just let the farm handle itself and I couldn’t even push myself to go to the Luau. God, I haven’t even written to my family in ages. I just… can’t. Everything feels like such a chore, and I- “

You stop to take a deep breath, tears welling up in your eyes. You’d been looking down at the table since the start of your rambling, not having it in you to look at Sam.

“Woah, man. Seems like a lot you’ve been dealing with.”

Sam’s smile is gone, instead it’s replaced with a face of concern. He doesn’t push you to look at him or anything, he just continues with what he’s saying.

“It’s okay to feel down in the dumps, you’re human it’s bound to happen. And you’ve done so much since you’ve first moved to pelican town, if I’m being honest, I’m amazed you’ve only just reached the burnout stage. But you don’t have to deal with this all alone, you’ve got the whole town to help you with things! And you can always come to me if you ever need anything, I’m happy to help.”

You look up at Sam, eyes red from crying, face looking puffy and messy, but Sam says nothing. He just smiles at you, looking at you with a face of compassion.

“I know me saying all this isn’t just gonna cure your problems but, I hope it helps. And as I said, I’ve got no plans today so I’m happy to help or keep you company!”

You stand up and walk over to Sam’s side of the table, instinctively he stands up at well, and you wrap your arms around him. He’s quick to crush you into a hug back.

“Also, I’ve missed our talks, I have new music to show you AND I beat my high score on my game!”

Sam quietly whispers and you let out a little laugh and smile, even though you know it’ll take a little bit more for you to break out your habits, you’re happy you’ve got a friend there to help you along the way.

“So! What should we do, farmer?”

Sam grins at you and puts a thumbs up. You laugh at the nickname and take a second to think.

“I need to write a letter to my parents, and maybe if I have the effort, I’ll plant some seeds tomorrow.”

Sam nods and puts up an okay sign.

“If you want, I can go to Pierre’s and buy the seeds you need while you get busy writing?”

You smile at Sam and nod, quickly scribbling down a list of the summer seeds you need and handing over the money he’ll need. You walk to the door and see him pick up his skateboard as he turns to wave.

“Be back soon! You better get writing!”

You turn into your house with a smile, grabbing a pen and paper before sitting at the table. You’re thankful for your visit from Sam, and even more thankful for everything that he’s willing to do for you, his friend.

[viperrot]

⇁a snake in this garden | leon kennedy.

resident evil 4 remake leon s. kennedy x gn!reader angst

in which you find a picture of the woman he can't let go of.

content contains: angst, unrequited(?) love, hurt/no comfort, no use of y/n

937 words

song rec: "just like chet" by laufey

my first work here! this is short, as i am just trying to get a feel for how things work on here :] enjoy below the cut!

You've never once doubted Leon's love for you. You met him when he enrolled in STRATCOM after the Raccoon City incident, and you've been inseparable ever since. After so many nights staying up late over a cup of coffee together, you eventually confessed your feelings to each other after almost eight years of friendship

But things have changed.

Every since the blonde man came back from his mission in Spain, he's been different—Leon's been more distant, staying at work till the late hours of night, and he's even opted to sleep on the couch instead of with you. The bed has been void of his warmth for a few weeks now, and you've missed his touch every second he's away.

One night, Leon comes home earlier than usual. While you laze on the couch of your shared apartment's living room, you're reading a worn-out copy of Dracula, not expecting your dear boyfriend's arrival until later in the night. You look up from the yellowed pages of your paperback novel, eyes wide as you lay your sights on the agent's tired figure. He's slipping off his shoes and lazily unbuttoning his dress shirt, mumbling jumbled words beneath his breath that you can't catch.

"Leon?" You call, your head peeping above the couch. He looks up from his shoes, his ocean-hued gaze locking onto you. A faint smile paints his face.

"Hey, hon," he whispers. Your eyes soften at the sight of him. Leon looks exhausted, his eyebags worse than usual. You're heart ached as you took in his figure. After dating him for almost a year and knowing him for nearly a decade, you knew when he was sick of the world. Leon walks towards your spot on the couch sluggishly, flopping into you to lay his head on your lap. "Missed you..." he whispered, voice muffled into your thigh. You pet the top of his head, threading your fingers through his mildly greasy hair.

"M'right here, Lee," you hush him softly. You missed this—being with him, feeling him, seeing him. Silence filled the living room as you two sat comfortably.

Suddenly, the ex-cop gets up, tugging at your wrist as a silent suggestion for you to follow. You move without thinking, trailing his heels as you two walked to your shared room.

It looked like any other portion of the little apartment—minimalistic, but homey. This was your garden of Eden. The peace from the storm that was STRATCOM. You sit with Leon on the edge of the bed, the ivory sheets creasing beneath your shared weight. Your lover sighs, laying on his back as he relaxes into the mattress. Your hand feathers against his chest as his eyes flutter close, and you figure he's going to pass out in only a few minutes.

As your fingers fiddle with the buttons of his shirt, Leon's breathing steadies. As the seconds tick by, he falls further into sleep, and you can't help but smile at the domestic sight. Ever since his mission to save Ashley Graham, Leon has never looked so at-peace. The visual made your heart melt as a warm smile etched across you face.

"Goodnight, Lee," you murmured quietly, pulling your hand away from his resting figure. You gently get off the bed, body adjusting to the cold hardwood beneath you. You tiptoe out of the bedroom, shutting the door behind you with a little click! before venturing back to the living room. You get back in your seat on the couch, but a little white paper catches your eye.

On the floor is what seems to be a polaroid. It's small, only the size of your palm. You pick it up when you sit down, flipping it around to check its contents.

A woman in red, smiling coyly at the camera.

There's a note written in thin, black sharpie at the bottom. "A gift for you," it says in neat penmanship. Your heart squeezes. You realize that there's a snake in your garden.

You know who this is. Ada Wong, the woman that captured Leon's heart almost a decade ago. You remember your lover saying that she was nothing, that it was just a moment of loneliness in a dark time.

It's clear that wasn't true.

You never considered yourself a strong person. Your duty as an agent was to give intel to your partner, whoever it was on the mission. Much like Hunnigan, you stayed in your office, talking to your mission partner over a communication line, and give them orders depending on the task at hand. It wasn't physically taxing, seeing how you had no military experience.

Ada had everything. She's intelligent and she can fight without breaking a sweat. It's no secret that she's beautiful, too.

"Is this what Leon wants?" You whisper, tears swelling in your eyes as you the picture between your fingers shook. Your lips quivered as your eyes traced the outline of Ada's body. Hourglass, toned, and so very alluring.

Any man in their right mind would want a piece of her, you think to yourself.

You're unsure of what to do with the picture. Do you throw it out, do you hide it, or do you give it back to Leon without question? You decide it best to leave it on the floor, just like you found it.

You get up from your spot on the couch, straightening up your casual attire before walking to the front door. The polaroid is on the floor, and your coat is in your hands.

A walk wouldn't hurt, you tell yourself, ignoring the ache in your heart. Keeping secrets won't hurt either, you lie to yourself.

no hate to ada tho she bad af.

[justpoliteconversations]

Harvest Season [Reader + BOTW!Link]

You have a rather odd encounter that leads to an empty pantry. You don't regret it.

One of the fic requests from this Post.  Another to feed the ever expanding trash heap.

Masterlist

TW: None.

Disclaimer: Don't own The Legend of Zelda franchise.

---

You were not expecting today to be different from any other day. The sun was shining, the wind held a cool edge that spoke of an early fall, the air saturated with moisture and the scent of wet soil. And your workers were busy tending to the harvest, covered in dirt and the greasy shine of sweat despite the breeze (and Johnny was complaining, as usual).

You, of course, had already started sorting and crating the product. Shifting through the seemingly neverending mountains of foodstuff as Jessy brought it over in great bag fulls.

A day like any other for this time of the season. Until it wasn't. And the oddity took the shape of a small hyrulian man with long blonde hair, bright blue eyes and a rather horrendous knot of scars on the side of his face. And a sword. Glowing and more fierce looking as any sword had a right to be, no matter it's intended purpose.

He'd paused at the border of your gated property, keen eyes scanning over the half harvested fields and your workers attending to them. One of your workers even returned the stare (Jessy, the fearless cutthroat), while some (namely Billy, but Johnny too) was visibly discomforted by the sight of such a scarred warrior casting his gaze upon them with unknown purpose. You too, felt unease.

Bandits were not unknown in these parts, particularly during the harvesting seasons when the fruits of your (and others like you and your workers) labor were freshly picked and awaiting the merchant's festival in town. And now just happened to be that time, and that man (innocent as his eyes looked) was armed to the teeth.

Only a fool wouldn't be cautious. Even if just a little bit.

But you couldn't ignore him either, as it would be both impolite and potentially dangerous. If you were lucky, he was merely a traveling mercenary or particularly armed traveler that'd just happened upon your little farm. It wouldn't have been the first time such an occurrence had happened.

Though it wouldn't have been the first time a bandit tried to threaten you into handing over your hard earned harvest either. The unmarked plot at the very edge of your property told a very somber story as to how that ended (for him).

You approached the small man with caution, but a friendly smile nonetheless. "Hello, friend. What brings you to these parts?" You began, a nice, simple way to scoop out the measure of this man. And a distraction, so your workers could ready themselves to pounce if the man proved dangerous (you could already imagine Johnny and Billy shifting their grips on their hoes, Jessy leaning down to pull the dagger from her boot holster).

His eyes never left yours as he brought his hands up, and said in a distinctively grating rasp. "I'm a traveler. But I'm looking for a place to rest for the night." He shifted, casting a glance over the half-harvested field with those wide, blue eyes of his. "I thought I could help in exchange. It'd be nice to not sleep in the rain." His voice had rapidly gotten worse as he spoke, nearly cracking at the end.

You glanced up at the sky, doubtful. "Rain? I don't see a cloud in the sky, sir." You pointed out, skeptical of his words, but not untrusting of them. You knew some folk who could read the weather like a map. Your dear belated mentor being one such person. Could call a snowfall to the hour weeks in advance. Unnatural, that one, but sweet as apple pie.

He opened his mouth to speak, but you held up your hand and stopped him before he could strain himself any further. "No need to push yourself, sir. Just point and I'll have my girl check." He blinked in confusion at your words (had no one truly had the courtesy to accommodate this man's difficulties?) but pointed north nonetheless. And you simply turned your head and called out. "Jessy! North! Check for storm clouds."

"Got it, boss!" She yelled back, and you saw the glint of her dagger sliding back into its holster before off she went, straight to the tallest tree of the lot not far off and up it with squirrel-like grace.

The man looked at you in question, and you kept your body language relaxed and open as you said. "If it is gonna rain, it's gonna storm. It always does in these parts, being so close to the mountains. And I'd like my crops in before then."

The noisiest of your workers (Johnny) groaned, but Billy pushed him with his shoulder and whispered about overtime paid. And it was enough to shut the other up, because of course that'd be the one thing to keep Johnny's mouth shut. Not the potential threat. Not his boss standing just a meter away from an unknown man armed like he's about to go to war. Just the notion of extra pay.

At least he did good work, even if he was a fickle little bastard.

The man nodded, shifting uncomfortably under your stare. And you felt yourself soften at his uncertainty (he just looked so young and lost right then). "Hey. Ya said you wanted to help, right? Just grab a hoe and start hacking. It's the last harvest of summer until we replant for fall, so no need to be a worn hand at it. Just join the boys over there and do what they do." He nodded again, and without another word headed over towards the fence and grabbed one the mentioned tools (putting his sword and shield against the fence in its place. and you felt yourself relax completely. grateful you'd seemed to have made the right choice).

By the time Billy had given him a brief explanation as to what they were doing and how it was done, Jessy had returned with confirmation that the very beginning of storm clouds were just cresting over the mountaintops. And that they'd be on you all by sundown. Just like the man had said.

Well, damn.

---

You'd expected to be working well into the beginnings of the rain (hopeful not into the storm itself, but you'd do it even if your workers decided they didn't want to risk it and left for the night). Maybe, if you were lucky, the storm would slow its progression and you'd have another hour or so to get everything properly picked and sorted before working became too dangerous. Hell, maybe it wouldn't rain at all and the storm had veered off course to somewhere else.

Well, the rain showed up early. Unfortunately. And it was a real doozy of a thunder storm to boot. So much so you and the boys had moved the (metal) equipment as far away from the house as possible to prevent any wayward lightning from roasting you all in your sleep.

However, none of you had been out in the rain when it originally started up a few hours before sun down. Instead, you were all huddled in your house (the triplets had decided to stay the night then risk getting caught in the storm), cooking dinner while Billy praised the man's (Link's) incredible (and it really was incredible) work ethic and Johnny nodded along with an encouraging smile (blessedly silent, thank the Goddesses). Jessy rolling her eyes and listening fondly from her seat on the bed (your bed, thank you very much).

Why? Because as mentioned before, Link was an absolute work horse out there (don't know what his mama fed him as a babe, but you wanted to know something fierce). The man had worked the fields so quickly and so thoroughly the boys had had to step back lest they get in his way anymore than they already had been. And when Jessy (with the help of her brothers) had been unable to pick fast enough to stay ahead of the man, Link had begun picking himself. By which point the triplets had begun hoeing, until the monster of a man had finished the picking and then your poor workers had had to move to sorting to stay out of his way.

He'd finished hoeing not long after, sitting down beside the boys immediately after to start sorting (despite your repeated assurance that he'd done more than enough. to which he'd just smiled impishly and kept his hands moving). Surprisingly, he was slower with the sorting. Though maybe not that surprising. But only because Jessy had whispered to him that you allowed them to eat the misshapen and colored product and he seemed to have taken that as a challenge (that boy can eat. it's kind of scary how much he put away in that one sitting).

The end result of it all was an early day (so Johnny did not get that overtime no matter how much he pouted, the jerk) and a celebratory dinner for Link for a job well done. To which the man had blushed from ear to ear when told as such, trying to deny with gestures you realized was a type of sign language (one you didn't fully recognize. it was as though he had taken standard and added unnecessary motions between words). But he was easily won over with the promise of food.

And that was how you ended up here, cooking a feast enough for ten men (it probably wouldn't be enough, from what you'd seen of the small man. may the golden three preserve you and your pantry) and watching just as fondly as Jessy as her brothers tried to pry out the secrets of Link's inhuman abilities.

You had your suspicions, but you kept that to yourself. It wouldn't be wise to let such information out into the world so irresponsibly. Especially with the likes of the Yiga still prowling these parts (one of the main sources of the bandits) in greater numbers than is normal (it was the season, after all). And especially not when the (potential) object of their attention (and murderous ire) was sitting at your table trying his level best to eat you out of house and home.

But if you cooked a few extra (attack and defense boosting) dishes for him to take with him (leftovers, of course. since he's just got such a ferocious appetite). Forced him to accept the entirety of your savings (as payment, of course, for doing such a great job the day before. not that he knew those were your savings). And extracted (with much guilt tripping) the promise to return if he ever needed a place to rest (or hide or heal).

Well. No one had to know the reason why. It was your business after all (except for Jessy, who had slipped a few bundles of arrows into the bag you'd used to pack his food despite your side-eye. which she'd returned with a meaner one).

And if your hand had lingered on his shoulder a little longer than necessary as you said your goodbyes. And your eyes held more sadness and respect than would be deemed normal for the situation. No one had to know why.

But you think he understood. Because he'd looked you in the eyes, put his hand on yours (calloused. just like yours, but burdened with scars you hoped to never bare yourself), and told you thank you. With so much feeling. With so much conviction. With such strength that your heart ached with the hope it inspired.

After he left, you didn't see him again until some time later. When the blood moons had stopped rising and the roads had cleared and word of Calamity Ganon's demise had spread far and wide to all reaches of Hyrule.

He came to you during a cool summer's evening (just turning to fall. the same time as before when you brought the last summer harvest in) with a sheepish smile on his lips and mirthful eyes. You'd smiled back, just as mirthful (and relieved. so relieved he was okay) as you said. "Come to clear my pantry again, have you?" And he laughed, crackling and rasping, before nodding and picking up a hoe from the fence without being asked.

As he walked past you, you said, grinning. "The others already left for the day. I can't promise overtime, ya hear?"

He snorted. "Won't take long." And you laughed too, before taking up a hoe yourself and following after.

Might as well work up an appetite if you're going to be eaten out of house and home. After all, it's not everyday the Hero of Hyrule comes to raid your pantry.

Might as well join him.

And if you declare a celebration for his hard work once more. Well. No one has to know you weren't talking about your fields.

But by the shine in his lashes as you put your arm around his shoulders and ruffled his hair. You were pretty sure he knew, even if it remained unspoken.

---

I retreat for a brief time to the shadows.

[octuscle]

Can you transform my life into Zac Ansley’s?

The interesting thing about influencers is that they often don't do one thing at all: Influence things or people. Take this young, handsome man with this incredibly toned body. He has a staggering 1.3 million followers. How many of them have anything like his body? And how many only use his Instagram profile to secretly jerk off in the loo during their lunch break? The ratio is probably 10 to 1.2 million or so…

You're no exception, let's be honest… You have a little paunch, your favorite pastime is eating chips on the sofa while watching series on Netflix with one eye open. And watching Zac's new fitness videos with the other eye. Have you ever seriously thought about copying one of his exercises? Even getting into a barrel of ice-cold water? Buying any of the nutritional supplements he advertises? Actually, the answer is three times no. And at the age of 42, you probably won't change a thing…

You wipe your greasy fingers from the chips on your dirty wifebeater. And start wanking your puny cock. But maybe it was a beer or two too many. A few minutes later, you're lying on the sofa, snoring.

Zac gets up at 06:00 in the morning. You want to top that. The alarm clock is set for 05:45. And even if it takes some effort: By 06:00, you've eaten your high-protein muesli and you're on your way to the gym. Inspired by Zac's training plan, you start your chest workout. Shit, you're really out of shape. But no master has fallen from the sky. As you wipe the sweaty hair from your forehead after a really strenuous workout, you have the feeling that your receding hairline is getting better… And is the hair that grows back blonde?

You get lots of compliments at work. Have you lost weight? That your skin looks much better. A colleague even whistles after you and says with a grin, "Nice ass, buddy!" During your lunch break, you heat up your chicken and rice in the microwave and drink a large protein shake with it. And you cancel your colleagues' plans to go to the pub after work. You can make better use of your time. So you go to the gym and make sure your ass is even tighter.

Get up at 05:00, have breakfast, walk to the gym with your rucksack on your back and get your muscles burning. You can't imagine any other way to start the day. And your more than 12K followers are craving new selfies of you on the weight bench or posing in front of the mirror in the locker room.

At the office, you have the image of a fitness nerd. Even though you've been working out for an hour and a half, you're one of the first people in the office, you're always perfectly dressed and your hair is always in perfect condition. No one can remember the last time you were sick. And quite a few people think that, at just 38 years old, you only have your perfect body to thank for your position as division manager. Okay, there are also rumors about the size of your cock and that it also helped you climb the career ladder.

During lunch (chicken, rice and brocolli) you go live and give a few nutrition tips. You let your pecs dance under your tight shirt. If all goes well, you'll break the 25K followers barrier today.

At 6 p.m., your Indian intern knocks on the door. He has already swapped his suit for workout clothes. He asks if you're ready and if you can go to training. You tell him that you only need ten more minutes and that he should close the door behind him. A damp stain forms in his pants.

05:00 a.m. First, the obligatory Instagram check. Yes! The one million mark has been broken! There's actually no time for this in your routine, but you have to wank your morning wood. To celebrate the day. But then you quickly have breakfast and go to the gym, the first post has to be out at 06:00, you have to keep your followers in line.

When your team shows up for the new YouTube videos, you're really pumped. Just like your fans love you. "Lads, lasses, hoy! Today we're gan te mek yor triceps an' chest proper radge!" Hey, you are a proper lad from Northumberland. You talk the way you talk. Most of your followers like you for not speaking nasal Oxford English.

05:00 p.m., end of the day at the gym. The video turned out great. You've fed Instagram with a new reel. You're on your way to an interview with Status Fitness Magazine. And then you have to go to a swimwear shoot. It's going to be another damn long day. Not bad for someone who was told by the doctor just 12 years ago that you urgently need to get your act together if you don't want to die with a fatty liver. But damn, you've got your act together. And you did it damn well!

[regsluvrboy]

biker! a.donaldson x gn. reader word count; 1.2k a/n; wooo!! a small project i've been working on for a bit, hope y'all like it. spent a good amount of time on this and atp i'll be the happiest man alive if even one person reads this oml. index. -> chapter 2

The sounds of metal being hit and tools being tossed around echoed through the repair shop, accompanied by Patrick's nonsensical rambling about Art and their management for the nth time that week.

"Almost done, please shut up. I gotta' focus" your voice rang out from underneath the sleek Suzuki GSX-R1000RZ. "Yeah, yeah. Listen, so-" The man standing behind you spoke, annoyed about the predicament he was in. "They told me they'd buy the Hayabusa for us, okay? And then management proceeds to just hand it over to Art without even consulting me!" Patrick whined as he leaned his side on the wall near him. You sighed, "Don't you guys switch bikes half the time?" you asked, checking the voltage regulator. "Well, yeah- But that's not the point, they handed him the bike instead of me! It's in his name now!" The racer grumbled as he watched you with little to no interest.

The you rolled your eyes, getting up and raising an annoyed brow at Patrick's rant. "Next time, you leave the bike with me and go somewhere else. I can't handle your gibberish for two hours, I have limits, Pat," you said with no real venom. The racer's dimples framed his features as he looked at you, "Uhuh, you know you love me and my rants." You rolled your eyes once more, knowing that he was right. A comfortable silence lingered in the room, save for your scoff, accompanied by a subtle smile.

Patrick cleared his throat, looking at your amused expression before continuing, "Anyways, Art's going to ride the thing tonight, coming to watch?" he grinned. You frowned, bringing a greasy hand to your forehead, twisting the baby hairs there with a sigh, "Nah, y'know I don't like him, right?" Patrick sighed, looking at you with an unamused expression, "you sure? You don't want to take a quick peek at it and leave?"

You scoffed once more, the usual look of disinterest returned to your features as you looked up at your best friend, "No, 'cause your definition of a 'quick peek' involves getting me to talk to Art, so, fuck no." Patrick shifted, stretching his arms as he let out a small groan, you sighed and walked to your shop's register, cleaning your hands with a towel before you started typing down the bill.

"Why don't you like him?" Patrick broke the silence, looking at his bike. You cleared your throat, feigning nonchalance, "Who?" you spoke, eyes trained on the register. "Y'know who. Art. Why don't you like him?" the green-eyed racer smiled knowingly. "I don't dislike him, I don't like him, I'm indifferent about him," you shrugged, though your tone suggested otherwise.

You met Art for the first time when you three were in college, with Patrick and Art being roommates, it was hard to miss seeing the blonde. What initially began as a mere acquaintance immediately grew into enmity when Art broke up with one of your closest friends at the time. Sure, maybe it was a stupid grudge to keep for five years, it wasn't even your breakup.

"You're not still sour about him and Janet, right?" Patrick cut short your train of thought. He walked to the register, leaning on the wooden slab as he smirked smugly at you. You looked at the man in front of you with annoyance traced across your features, "No it isn't."

"You're such a liar, a bad one at that," The racer laughed, leaning on the table. "He's changed, it's been like… ages since the incident. Plus, you know that relationship was a pain in the ass for both of them." You scoffed, grabbing the printed receipt before handing it to the other, "of course, you'd take his side."

"I'm not taking sides," Patrick protested immediately. "I'm being serious, it's been ages, you need to let go of that stupid grudge. Even Janet forgot about it. You're just trying to find an excuse to hate him. Which, by the way, is really hypocritical of you to say when you tell me to forgive and forget all the bullshit that goes on with my management."

You looked at him plainly, pinching your furrowed brows before meeting the racer's gaze once more. "Total's 140 dollars, pay me when you can," you looked down at the buttons on the register, thinking about what the other said.

Patrick looked at you with a sigh, looking at the register and then at you, behind it. "Tell you what, you come to watch the match, yeah? I won't make you talk to him. I know you've wanted to see the 25th edition model for a hot while, it'll be nice, okay?" Hearing that, you met his gaze once more, "Alright."

The green-eyed racer smiled, looking at you as he grabbed the bike and walked it to the front of the repair shop. You looked at your friend, "You might be right, by the way." Confusion leaked through Patrick's tone when he replied, "huh?"

"The Art thing. I may have been making excuses. Yeah," you admitted sheepishly, looking at the tall man, who was now across the shop. The racer smiled, getting on his bike, "I know, I usually am," he chuckled smugly before starting his bike. "See ya' tomorrow night, sweets!" he called out, driving off.

You noticed his helmet on the wooden slab, "Pat, wait- your helm-" you sighed in annoyance, noticing he already left. "Stupid fuck." You muttered under your breath, grabbing the helmet and placing it near the exit, in case the other returned to get it.

Patrick may have had a point. It wasn't like you had any particular reason to hate Art, other than the breakup. But something about the blonde struck a nerve within you. Even when you were acquaintances, the way he'd look at you condescendingly when you went to meet Patrick pissed you off. Every time you felt his presence, your jaw automatically clenched, waiting for the blonde to give some stupid backhanded compliment about what you were doing, or your outfit for the day. It wan an unspoken rivalry of sorts. You hated how he would walk into the room and smile at you, with that oh-so smug smirk that you desperately craved to wipe off his stupid face. You hated how he'd have long conversations with Patrick while the three of you were in the same room, making it a point to make you feel alienated. He was the living definition of an asshole. God bless Patrick's sweet heart for finding a friend in him. Things got worse when the both of them became popular racers, Art became an even bigger asshole- if that was even possible. Which made him even more intolerable - or so you assumed, you hadn't exactly talked to the guy in the two years after you graduated. But his insta stories and feed told you what you wanted to know. There was no way he would've changed after uni.

© REGSLUVRBOY 2024 — ALL RIGHTS RESERVED, DO NOT PLAGIARISE MY CONTENT AND POST ON DIFFERENT PLATFORMS.

[kittenshift-17]

dramione hangover breakfast

Hermione grizzled into the arm she'd been using for a pillow, her head splitting and her mouth dry as the desert.

"Noooo," a gruff male voice complained when she stirred, beginning to wriggle out of the arms she'd laid spooned in all night.

"Shhhh," she sighed. "Oh, my head."

"Granger?"

Hermione sat up slowly, rubbing her hands over her face and trying to remember why she'd drowned herself in whiskey and wine to wake up dead like this.

"Just.... quiet, Malfoy," she muttered without looking at the surprised blond on the bed beside her.

"We went home together?" He rasped. "Again?"

"Seems so," she mumbled. "Urgh, I need a shower."

Shuffling across the bed, she rose from it naked and stumbled to the bathroom of his flat, knowing the way well. After all, this wasn't the first time she'd made this particular mistake.

When she felt vaguely more human, Hermione got out and dried off, pausing to brush her teeth before wrapping her hair in a towel and returning to the bedroom still naked. Malfoy was sprawled on the mattress, looking worse for wear, a few love bites littering his neck and chest that she knew she was responsible for.

"Are you staying for breakfast?" He checked while Hermione helped herself to his wardrobe, not about to put last night's ballgown back on in the harsh light of day.

"Yes, please," Hermione murmured.

Draco nodded, rising from the bed too, also naked, she noted with appreciation even if her head was splitting. He dressed quickly before leading her out through his impressive flat and into the kitchen where an elf was already taking care of feeding them.

The first time she'd slept over, she'd taken umbrage with an elf feeding her, but on this, the eleventh time, she hadn't the energy to make a fuss.

"So," he said quietly when they both had cups of tea in hand and a plate of greasy breakfast food before them.

"Must we discuss it every time, Malfoy?" Hermione sighed. "We drink too much and we fuck. And in the morning after it happens, we swear it can never happen again, but it always does. Just accept it."

He eyeballed her in silence after that as they slowly polished off their breakfast.

"Do you have my cream knitted jumper? He asked when the food was almost all gone.

"Possibly."

She did. She wore it around the house whenever she had a bad day and wanted to be cosy because it was the softest thing she owned.

"Can I have it back?" He smirked, quirking an eyebrow.

"No."

He blinked before a soft snort of laughter escaped him.

"Next time we do this, maybe we'll go to your place, and I'll steal back all the clothing you pinch, then," he teased.

"Next time?" She frowned.

"You've just said to accept it keeps happening even when we swear it won't," Malfoy shrugged. "Perhaps we ought to consider letting it happen without needing to get uproariously drunk at work functions before it does?"

Hermione's brow furrowed.

"You're suggesting we... make this a regular thing?"

"I think it's already a regular thing, Granger. What's this, the tenth time we've done this?"

"Eleventh," she corrected.

"Mmm."

They eyed each other speculatively in silence for a long time after that before Hermione sighed and got to her feet. Rounding the table, she thanked the elves for breakfast and wandered to the living room, collecting her shoes and dress on the way.

"Until next time, then?" Malfoy met her by the fireplace, holding a small pot of Floo powder.

"I'll see you at work tomorrow," Hermione nodded.

She huffed in surprise when, before he let her step into the fireplace, he cupped her cheek and guided her mouth to his, kissing her softly.

"Think about my offer," he murmured against her lips when they broke apart.

Hermione nodded, climbing into the fireplace and dropping her powder, whizzing away, knowing she'd do more than think about it and knowing she was probably going to end up marrying the ridiculous man.

[sneakyparsnipslicer]

Bodysnatchers

It was that time of the year again. For Jimmy, this was the month he looked forward to most because it was time for an annual convention for one of his most favourite video games. The event had been going on for a few years now and he hadn't missed a single one. The community built by the event-goers was unmatched in his eyes, everyone was so kind, caring and unbelievably hot. Yes, a large percentage of the community was made up of gay men, and though he wasn't there to get his ass fucked, he enjoyed talking everything about the game franchise from it's beginnings to the spin-off movies, it's comics and speculating about what direction the game's developers will take in the upcoming releases.

Jimmy himself was a peculiar case. On the outside he looked like a blonde twink that hit the weights a fair bit, the muscle was due to his job which required a fair bit of lifting, and so had built him up a bit in the past year. When not working, he played games, watched movies, life was actually pretty chill for him. He'd booked a few days off work for the event and had spent the previous night packing his suitcase ready for the weekend. He caught his train on time and arrived in the city where it was all going to take place. He arrived around midday and made his way to the Premier Inn, checked in, passing a few familiar faces on the way to his room and kicked off his shoes and coat, taking a moment to relax on the double bed in his hotel room. He opened Twitter on his phone and put out a Tweet saying he'd arrived and was excited to meet everyone at the pre-event that night. It was a new thing the event organisers had thought up, a chance for everyone to mingle and catch up before the main event the next day.

Jimmy changed out of his casual shorts and t-shirt he'd arrived in and pulled out his evening wear, a short-sleeved shirt and chinos. He wanted to look his best, back home he didn't put much effort into what he wore, but here was a whole different case. He slicked his hair back, put on a silver chain necklace and sprayed his rarely used Playboy cologne. Maybe it was a bit over the top for casual socialising and game chatting, but he always went all-out for these events.

He checked Twitter again, there were some likes from the event-goers he knew and some he didn't recognise. He expected he'd be getting to know the newcomers soon enough and that was fine. He was used to showing the people that didn't know where particular landmarks were the locations of, and people knew him to be a decent enough guy, though he had in the past had to turn down invitations by some people for 'cuddles'. He saw one friend saying a lot of the folks would be down at the Premier Inn bar for drinks and socialising before the pre-event, so Jimmy put on a name tag he'd kept from the previous year which had his Twitter name on it; ResidentJimmy, and headed downstairs to the bar.

He saw a few people he'd been talking to the week before and was welcomed with hugs. Jimmy went to the bar to get a drink, Disaronno and Cola, and sat down with them. They spent a while catching up on life, laughing about the games they'd been playing, they were joined by a few others and eventually Jimmy moved on to say hi to some of the other event goers. An hour or two into the socialising and several drinks in, Jimmy was beginning to get a little tipsy. A person he was talking to had just headed off to see a friend of theirs that had just arrived when he was approached by a couple of younger men.

'Hi, sorry to bother you, but it's ResidentJimmy, isn't it?' asked one of them nervously. Jimmy turned to look at them. The one that asked the question was a bit squat, bespeckled with brown hair and the other was thin with black greasy-looking hair. Judging by the one with glasses' accent, they were Irish. 'Yeah that's me, nice to meet you both!' smiled Jimmy, beckoning to two seats next to him, which they eagerly filled. 'I thought it was you, I do love your streams over on Twitch' said the one with glasses, the one with black hair smiled and nodded nervously. 'Thanks, so who are you two then?' asked Jimmy, taking a sip of his drink and looking between both of them. 'Oh, I'm Gavin, I was here last year but didn't get a chance to say hi before, and this is Tiernan, my boyfriend. It's his first time here' said Gavin, smiling. Tiernan nodded and smiled too. Jimmy smiled and raised his glass and the three clinked their glasses as a toast to their newfound friendship.

'So I'm guessing you two are from Ireland, right?' asked Jimmy. Tiernan nodded. 'Yeah, Belfast, have you ever been?' asked Gavin. Jimmy nodded. 'Oh I love Belfast, haven't been there in a few years though, you guys have mountains! Where I'm from we've got a lake and that's about it!' shrugged Jimmy. Gavin laughed and looked to Tiernan, who was nodding his head and smiling, unable to look away from Jimmy. 'Gosh your man's a bit quiet Gavin, you ok there bud?' asked Jimmy. 'Oh he's just shy, you know how it is when you meet someone famous' said Gavin. 'Oh please, I'm not famous' laughed Jimmy. Shaking his head. 'Well we do love the videos you make, we tune in every week!' said Gavin. Jimmy smiled. 'Thanks guys, I really appreciate it' said Jimmy, looking to them both. 'Hey, have you ever been to Dublin?' asked Tiernan. Jimmy turned his attention to Tiernan. 'No I haven't, I'd love to some day though' said Jimmy thoughtfully. 'Ah, it's a pretty big place, do you know why?' asked Tiernan. 'Because Andrew Scott's from there?' asked Jimmy. Tiernan shook his head. 'Nah, it's because it keeps doubling!' said Tiernan. Jimmy worked out the pun and started laughing. Gavin and Tiernan joined in the laughter too. 'Oh that's good, Dublin, doubling. That's actually hilarious mate!' laughed Jimmy, Tiernan nodded his head. 'Thanks Sir!' he said. Gavin looked between them smiling. 'Well you must've left a good impression on him Jim, this is the first he's spoken all day' said Gavin. 'Ah you'll be alright Tiernan, everyone's friendly here, keep on cracking jokes and everyone's gonna love you' said Jimmy. Jimmy settled his glass down. He sat back in his chair, looking around at the other event goers. 'Well fellas, I need to go for a piss real quick, I'll be right back' said Jimmy, getting out of his chair. 'Alright, see you real soon Jim' said Gavin, giving him a thumbs up. Jimmy made his way to the toilets and over to the furthest urinal from the door. He exhaled as he pissed and looked to the ceiling, thinking of who to check up on next. He'd heard some guys had come in from France for the event and might need welcoming.

He finished his business and zipped up his chinos, turning to the left he saw Gavin and Tiernan standing there, Jimmy practically jumped out of his skin. 'Oh shit!' he yelled. Gavin smirked. 'Oh sorry if we startled you Jim' said Gavin gently. 'I'll say! I didn't hear you two come in!' laughed Jimmy nervously. The two didn't smile. Jimmy looked at both of them. 'So what, do you two piss together too or something?' asked Jimmy. Gavin shook his head. 'We just had to be sure' said Gavin, looking Jimmy up and down. 'Sure of what exactly?' asked Jimmy, feeling uncomfortable. 'You're a cute guy with big feet, we reckoned you had a huge cock, but it looks like you're packing on both sides' said Gavin, looking Jimmy dead in the eyes. 'What the fuck?!' asked Jimmy in disgust, looking to Tiernan, who he now noticed had been staring intently at Jimmy the whole time, looking more clammy and sweatier than he did back at the bar. 'Look guys, I'm really not looking for a threesome if that's what you're after' said Jimmy, wondering if he should yell for help. Tiernan began to fidget a bit. 'A threesome? That's rich!' laughed Gavin. He walked right up to Jimmy and looked up at him. 'Yes, I'm going to enjoy you a lot' said Gavin, giving Jimmy a swift right hook. The impact of the punch made Jimmy's head collide with the urinal, knocking him out. Jimmy fell in an unconscious heap on the floor. Tiernan moved towards Jimmy but Gavin stopped him. 'No, let me enjoy this face one last time' said Gavin, turning Tiernan's face towards his.

The two began to make out and feel eachother's bodies. Gavin pulled Tiernan's shirt off exposing his slightly pudgy and sweaty torso. 'Go on babe, slip into this English Fuck' said Gavin, giving Tiernan one last passionate kiss. Tiernan gazed into Gavin's eyes and nodded, grinning the most evil grin. Gavin bit his lip and watched as Tiernan took off his shoes, socks, jeans and boxers, his dick springing free. Gavin slapped him on the ass and Tiernan walked over to Jimmy's body and pulled him up to sit on the urinal. Licking his lips, Tiernan undid Jimmy's belt buckle and slid the chinos down to the knees, then pulled down his boxers. 'Knew it, Size 11. He's gorgeous!' said Gavin, sliding a hand down into his own pants, his own dick growing harder knowing what was about to happen. 'Man's got some… ASSets you'll find useful' chuckled Gavin, watching Tiernan crouch down and begin to caress Jimmy's thighs. 'Yeah, I've been waiting for this. Going in!' said Tiernan, pulling back Jimmy's foreskin and proceeding to stroke Jimmy's tip. Jimmy's body began to stir and convulse, his dick's slit beginning to leak fluid. As soon as the liquid met Tiernan's sweaty finger, it began to pull him in, first one finger, then two, soon his whole hand had liquified and sunk into Jimmy's shaft. Tiernan placed his other hand into the slit, getting sucked in up to his elbows, now it looked as if Tiernan was about to dive into Jimmy's penis. 'Go on babe, get right in there!' breathed Gavin who had dropped his pants and was slowly pumping his shaft. Tiernan looked to Gavin, winked and proceeded to move his head, shoulders, neck and torso into Jimmy's shaft. Jimmy's body was beginning to bulge with Tiernan's invading mass. Gavin began to laugh as he watched Tiernan's ass, dick, thighs, legs and feet slip smoothly into Jimmy's shaft, making the body balloon out and writhe. It looked like Jimmy had a squirming Alien inside his stomach, ready to burst out. 'Fuck, that's hot' said Gavin, beginning to pant heavily as he jacked his dick harder. Under Jimmy's skin, Tiernan was repositioning himself, putting his legs, arms, head on like putting on clothing, then the changes started to happen. Jimmy's face changed to resemble a mix of his and Tiernan's, his hair grew black and the already nice muscleculture began to blow out more. The expanding chest and torso burst open the buttons on Jimmy's shirt, the chinos tightened on the legs showing off everything on offer and the feet burst through Jimmy's shoes, making an impressive Size 15.

Jimmy's, or maybe Tiernan's eyes fluttered open, and he exhaled, the transformation complete. He stood up, pulling the boxers and chinos up and looked to Gavin, who had the biggest smile on his face. His man was now built like a Greek statue, and he was all his! 'Oh fuck yes babe!' said Gavin as his man sauntered on over to him, black-haired with blue eyes, smouldering the fuck out of his new face. 'So, what do I call you now?' asked Gavin, almost ready to cum. 'Call me whatever the fuck you want!' he said, grabbing Gavin's face and plunging his tongue down his throat. Gavin wrapped his arms around his man's waist and nutted all over his chest, letting out a satisfied gasp. The man guided Gavin's hands below his waistline and onto his huge, firm ass. They looked into eachother's eyes and Gavin nodded. 'I think I'll call you Chris. You're huge like him, but without the steroids' Gavin laughed. Chris smiled and swept Gavin off his feet. 'Well, we've got a whole weekend to find you a new body too babe. But for now I think we'll go for cuddles!' Chris said, winking. 'Oh yeah?' asked Gavin with a mischievious smirk. 'Oh yes, you came this round, now it's time for Round 2, gotta break me in!' said Chris. 'Damn, the horny's really Dublin now' said Gavin, smirking. Chris chuckled and kissed him again. And the two walked out of the bathroom to the lifts for a night neither of them were going to forget.

[creative-heart]

"My thoughts will echo your name"| Esteban Kukuriczka

Chapter four: "No one has to know what we do."

Lucia’s notes: First off, I’m so sorry about last chapter, might have been a bit of a downer, but I trust me, it’s gonna get better soon. We’re back to the usual POV now. BTW the playlist “my hot girl revenge era” really exists on Spotify and it’s amazing.

+18 ONLY: If you’re no interested in reading the smutty part, please stop reading at “Whatever you say babygirl”; you can go back to reading at the next cut.

Playlist: 

Bejeweled- Taylor Swift

Wildest dreams- Taylor Swift

Could you love me when I hate myself- Lily McAlpine

Love in the dark- Adele

August- Taylor Swift

Starving- Hailee Steinfeld.

Ready for it- Taylor Swift

Content Warnings: Some not too heavy smut, mainly a makeout session; Social Drinking; mention to smoking.

Word Count: 2.4k

Five days, five whole days had gone by since that night when Y/N had told Lucas to leave the apartment, not one single text or call to check how she was doing, much less him coming home and as much as the hazel eyed woman wanted to pretend like it didn’t hurt her, truth is she had been laying on the couch in her pj’s without moving, just watching Grey’s Anatomy for the fifth time. Y/N was curled up on the couch one evening when she heard the front door but she stayed in the way she was, not enough energy to move to see who it was, coming into her place. “Oh. My. God, babe….nuh, hell no, you need to get your shit together” she heard the voice of her best friend Gabriel coming in from the living room’s threshold as the tall guy made his way to her pulling the blanket off of her and turning the tv off she whined.

“Gabi, nooo. let me, I’m in the best part” Y/N protested pointing at the tv without looking at the arched brow on the black haired guy.

“You know Grey’s by heart, don’t know what this fucker did now, but I’m taking you out, you haven’t answered to my calls or texts in days, come on” as she reluctantly let her friend pick her up from the couch and walk her to the bathroom “also, you smell, and your hair is so greasy I can fry an egg on your head, you’re not this, come on, you take an all in all shower and I’ll make you something to eat, we’re going out tonight bitch” he smiled turning around and going straight to the kitchen after leaving Y/N to stare at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. As she took her image in, she rubbed her face and stepped into the shower letting the steaming water run through her body washing that week off her body, mind and soul; maybe Gabriel was right and going out would be good to her, after all, it was clear that Lucas wasn’t thinking about her, so why should she be sulking over that wanker.

Forty minutes later, she finished blowdrying and styling her hair, her staple beach waves adorning her strawberry blonde locks, she took her makeup bag out and looked at her friend who came into the room with a sandwich just as she said “Alexa, play my hot girl revenge era playlist” as …Ready for it? by Taylor Swift started playing through the speaker Gabriel handed her the plate. “This is my bad bitch bestie!” he smiled turning around to look at the outfit laid out on the bed “damn, red lace top, leather pants and jacket, you going out to eat! I love” Y/N chuckled as she ate her sandwich while doing her makeup. Once they were ready they ordered an Uber and headed out.

“Ok, so…you know how I am obsessed with Andy from La sociedad de la nieve? well, I saw he will be at this club tonight, so, that’s where we’re going, I ain’t asking, just letting ya know mkay?” Y/N chuckled softly nodding knowing that if Andy was there, there was a chance that Esteban would be and she bit the inside of her lip, because why did the thought of kuku being there made her insides flutter and the heat rise in her whole body, she hadn’t told Gabriel about the whole Esteban thing tho, and she decided to keep it that way.

“I’m gonna get so drunk tonight” Y/N chuckled as they got out of the uber before making their way inside with the passes Gabriel had secured for them. As soon as the blonde set foot in the club, she headed to the bar to get herself a drink needing to keep her mind quiet only knowing that way to do it. Y/N rested against the bar looking out into the dancefloor as she downed her mojito, searching for her first victim, determined as she was to two things, get herself drunk, and secure a hot man to make her forget about the fact that the man she had loved for 5 years had all but forgotten about her in the last week. She knew she was the one who had told him to leave, but Y/N never thought he wouldn’t come back after that night, they might be in a horrible spot, but Lucas was still her boyfriend, and in some way she still loved him, or maybe it was just the comfort of knowing what it was like.

As soon as Esteban walked into the club with the guys later that night, he could see Y/N. She was up on a table dancing and immediately a mixture of feelings cursed through his blood. A perfect combination of lust, desire, rage at seeing how the other men around her gawked and touched her legs and protectiveness over the fact that she was clearly intoxicated, the cigarette hanging from her lips quite a sexy sight as she moved to the beat of the music. Without even hesitating about it, he made his way across the dancefloor swiftly, he didn’t give a flying fuck anymore about Lucas, if he wasn’t going to take care of her, he would. When he got up to the table where Y/N was he pushed the men aside and looked at her “Y/N can you please get down from that table?” he held his hand out for her. When Y/N heard that voice over the music she knew exactly who it belonged to, only Esteban’s voice could send a jolt of electricity down her spine straight to her center and she turned around to face him shaking her head moving down just so she was at his level.

“Now…why would I handsome? can’t you see how many gentleman are offering to get me drinks?” she smirked whispering in his ear biting her lower lip as she moved in front of her face stopping just mere inches away from his, staring down into his eyes and kuku swore she could see right into his soul, those Hazel orbs were so deep and entrancing. Before she could get away he picked Y/N up in his arms, his hands resting on the back of her thighs just below her ass cheeks and put her down from the table walking away. “Esteban put me down” the girl said in a tone she hoped to be firm and demanding but that much against her will came out breathy and whiny. Once they were far enough from that table and closer to the rest of the guys the brown eye guy let her down purposefully running his hands up Y/N’s sides which caused a new wave of electricty and goosebumps to course through the younger one’s body.

“Whatever you say babygirl” Esteban said looking straight into Y/N’s eyes his hands resting on the girl’s exposed waist. Her skin is as soft and warm as he had dreamt it would be. His eyes switching between the blonde girl’s eyes and lips as she spoke, not that he could hear what she was really saying all he was really thinking about was how much he wanted to kiss her right now, press her against his body and finally taste her lips. As Y/N kept complaining about what a killjoy he had been for taking her down from the table she found herself quite intoxicated, not only by the booze running thought her bloodstream but also by the taller guy’s perfume flooding her senses, she couldn’t think straight, his hands were still on her waist, her boobs pressed to his chest and she could see how dark his eyes were while looking at her.

Y/N didn’t know if it was the alcohol or the fact that she couldn’t deny anymore how hot Kuku was but she grabbed his shirt in her fists to pull him down to her crushing her lips to his, her eyes fluttered closed and she felt the sigh escape from the eldest lips and she took the chance to deepen the kiss as they started fighting for dominance in the kiss. Esteban’s hands slowly moved around exploring Y/N’s body at the same time as he pulled her closer to him if that was even a possibility, the soft moans escaping the girl’s lips taking his chance to tug on her lip as he pushed her up against a nearby wall her hands wrapping around his neck holding him closer to her as his lips trailed down her jaw to her neck slowly kissing all over, each touch setting a fire on her skin that lingered after he had moved on to the next. When kuku placed a kiss onto the spot right under Y/N’s ear she moaned into his ear closing her eyes as she could feel the smirk on his face right before he bit down on it gently.

Before Y/N could even stop herself she pressed her center to his, eager to feel as much of him as she could without taking their clothes off, but as soon as kuku felt her doing that his hands went back to her hips and he pulled himself apart a bit biting his lip, their breathing heavy and irregular with desire and need. He looked at the girl and leaned in whispering in her ear “as much as this is turning me on, and no matter how much I wanna take you home and fuck you right now, you’re one, quite drunk, and two, still my friend’s girlfriend as far as I know, and no matter how much of a douchebag he may be, I won’t do that” kuku rested his forehead against hers closing his eyes and while Y/N wanted to hit him for cutting of the moment like that, the fact that he was so respectful made whatever she was feeling inside her at the moment for him, grow stronger and she nodded looking at every single one of his freckles.

When Esteban pulled up outside of Y/N’s place he turned around to find her looking at him “wanna come in for a cup of coffee?” she smiled softly, her eyes still slanted from the alcohol pumping through her “I swear I won’t try to jump your bones…not that I don’t want to” she whispered the last part hopefully quiet enough to not be heard by the elder guy, but judging by his smirk, she hadn’t been successful “I just wanna thank you for bringing me home, plus I think you could use the caffeine”.

The brunette nodded getting out of the car with her and locking it before walking into her place as he looked around “so…Lucas isn’t here?” As soon as she had stepped foot into her home Y/N remembered the state of the place and hurriedly picked up around so that it wouldn’t look too messy shaking her head “no….truth is….he hasn’t been here for the past 5 days” she bit her lip hard as admitting it outloud made it all the more real. Once she had thrown everything out of sight she went to start the coffee pot and rested against the countertop looking at kuku, was that a slight smile she saw on his face?

“Have you two…broken up then?” He knew he shouldn’t be this happy over this possibility, a break up is always shitty but he couldn’t help but feel at least hopeful over the chance of things working out for him. He sat down on the kitchen island in front of Y/N.

“Well…not in so many words no, I mean, not officially, but we did have an argument, five days ago, I told him I didn’t wanna see his face around here that night and he left, hasn’t come back, texted or called since then.” She whispered the last part wrapping her arms around her own body and looked down to the floor to try and blink away those stupid tears that shouldn’t even be there in the first place. Kuku frowned seeing her upset and reached out pulling her to him gently making room for her to stand between his knees and hugged her tight kissing her head.

“Honestly….if he doesn’t see the kind of woman he has standing next to him he’s even dumber than I thought, it’s his loss, truly, if I were lucky enough to be in his place…” he mumbled cutting himself short when he realized what he was about to say when he saw Y/N look up at him with glossy eyes. He sighed  gently wiping her tears from her cheeks and took a deep breath before picking up where he left off, there was no use on denying what he felt now, even more so after seeing her cry, he only wanted to protect her and take care of her “If I were lucky enough to be in his place. I’d make sure to show you how important you are to me, I would do anything and everything in my power to help you achieve your dreams, you’re a wonderful person, gorgeous inside an out from what I’ve gotten to know you, and you deserve to have as your partner someone who sees how special you are and helps you shine on your own, who builds your light up, not someone who tries to dim you down.” Y/N kept looking at Esteban, not only could she look at him all night because he was the most gorgeous man she had ever seen, but hearing him say that, not only made her insides burn with desire, it made her heart swell with love.

That night, standing on that kitchen floor between Esteban’s knees, she understood two things, not only she didn’t love Lucas anymore and was determined to officially break things off with him as soon as possible, but she was also falling in love with the man in front of her, she was falling fast, she was falling hard, and she was falling deep in love with him and this was either gonna be the love story she was gonna tell her kids, or the break up that was gonna ruin her life. But either way, she was ready to find out.

Lucia’s notes: I told you all it was gonna get better didn’t I? and you haven’t seen the half of it! If you wanna be tagged in coming posts, please coment below. Also, no comments or likes needed but they are much appreciated. I love hearing what you think!

Credit to @cafekitsune for the MDNI divider and the section divider, they're amazing!!! go follow her if you wanna find amazing resources!

Taglist: @madame-fear  @cyliarys-starlight @castawaycherry @luceracastro @espinasrubi @lastflowrr @koiibiito @candycanes19 @nperoconelcositoarriba @lxdyred @deepinsideyourbeing

[xco-sm]

With Great Power Comes Love?

Style Fanfic (Stan x Kyle)

AU: Spiderman Stan and Fake Dating

*They are 16-17!!*

*Characters do not belong to me, they belong to Trey Parker and Matt Stone! I own the story!

*Do not publish this story anywhere else without my consent!

This is part 1 of my new fic! I hope you guys enjoy it so far and I can't wait to get chapter 1 out for you all! Any ideas and/or feedback is welcome and will be taken into consideration! I will publish this on ao3 once it is completely finished!

TW! Slurs! TW!

Prologue

Up North of Denver, Colorado, is a town called South Park and there lived a teenage boy named Stan Marsh. He has jet black, messy greasy hair and dark blue almond shaped eyes. Most would say he’s just a basic guy with a classic group of friends: Kyle, Kenny, and Cartman. As well as a typical family of four, including parents Randall and Sharon Marsh and his older sister, Shelly. 

No one would ever suspect that he was the hero that saves their small little town from the crimes that happen. The one they call Spiderman.

Like every other Spiderman in different universes, Stan was bitten by a radioactive spider. He struggled to learn his newly formed powers and adapt them to his everyday life. However, it was made much easier by his super best friend, Kyle Brofloski. 

The pair had been friends since diapers and had been glued to the hip since. Most people would say they are a bit funny… However, they both couldn’t care less about what others thought of them.

Now most Spider-Man's origin stories are all different and unique. Stan’s was definitely unique…

“Ouch! Awe sick dude,” Stan complained with pain. 

He was currently on the ground of a forest (why were they there? Don’t ask) after he ate shit from what Cartman would later call “a pathetic bitch fall.” The boy was pushing his upper body up from the ground when all of a sudden his ass felt like it was getting poked at by hundreds of mosquitos. “Fucking shit, I think a bug just bit my butt dude.”

The other boys all gave a face of disgust and instead of helping the one who fell, they simply started laughing. All except Kyle. “It was probably an ant dude, not a big deal. Now get off the floor, there could be dog shit for all we know.” Kyle walked closer to Stan in case he needed aid.

“No, you don’t get it, it actually fucking hurts dude. I think I might die or something. Can someone check?”

Everyone went completely silent at what Stan just said. It lingered on for at least three more minutes until Cartman practically yelled, “Kyle, you do it, he’s your faggy boyfriend.” Kyle simply rolled his eyes in annoyance and crouched down to where Stan was now rubbing his backside in pain. “I’m sure it’s not bad, I’ll help you get up so we can take you to your place so your mom can check it out.” 

“No! Like I think it was a spider, please check,” Stan pleaded with an obvious pout that would’ve worked if he was still 8, but he wasn’t, he was now reaching the age of 17. 

“Fine, take your pants off.”

Another silence took over the four boys, but instead of minutes going bye, seconds loomed over them. This time it was the blonde of the group to break the silence with a loud and what Kyle would say an obnoxious laugh. Cartman soon joined after spewing something about ‘how fucking gay’ Kyle was. Stan was groaning in frustration and slight pain. “You guys are so annoying Jesus.” He pinched his nose bridge and sighed. 

“No, you two are. It’s sickening hearing you guys make out all the time,” Cartman snorted out amidst his laughter. “ I really don’t want to have to see you guys have sex now, at least get a room.” Kenny nodded in agreement before opening up, “I can’t believe I’m about to witness Stan and Kyle have sex before I turn 18. Like bro that’s crazy-”

“Oh my GOD! TAKE YOUR FUCKING PANTS OFF JESUS.” yelled out an enraged Kyle.

“At least take the poor boy to dinner for Kahl,” Eric mocked, holding onto Kenny during another laughing fit. Stan rolled his eyes for what felt like the millionth time tonight and stood up and walked behind a tree. He motioned for Kyle to follow him to check out the bite and Kyle rushed over to help. 

“Sorry for yelling man, you know I’m not mad at you right?” Kyle said as he waited for the other boy to finish lowering his pants down enough to where the bite had occurred. “Yeah, I know, now check please because I swear if I die because of a stupid bug, I might as well go to hell.” Kyle shook his head and started checking.

It wasn’t unnatural for the pair to do something like this as they have always changed in front of the other. There’s even been times in sleepovers (they won’t admit they still have sleepovers, but they do) where one, typically Kyle, is taking a shower and talks to the other, typically Stan, while he’s doing his business on the toilet. It’s always been the norm for them to be this comfortable around the other, so Kyle was unfazed by practically looking at his best friend’s ass checks. 

“Well? Anything?” Stan prompted impatiently. Kyle stood up to face his friend and shook his head, “Nah man, it doesn’t seem like anything bit you to leave a mark. Maybe it was just your head fucking with you to think you got bit?”

Stan groaned and put his pants back up while walking back to the other two, and shortly after followed the red-head. “Hey guys, gotta bounce! Marj gets to have people over today!” Kenny expressed excitedly. “See you losers later!” He waved out to the group before running off to the girl’s house. Cartman started complaining about something before he said, “I am not waiting around to see you all making out again, I am out!” With that, he left the boys alone in the woods going off to God knows where. 

Kyle and Stan ended up back at Stan’s place after they were rudely abandoned, according to Stan, by their so-called friends. “No, you don’t get it. It was a masterpiece created by God or something dude.” Stan exclaimed. They were talking about Transformers again even though Kyle had already expressed how uninterested he was. “Like it has everything you could ever want. Bumblebee, robots turning into sweet cars, Megan Fox, and I don’t know if I mentioned but Bumblebee! You cannot not be interested in a cool ass movie like this.”

Kyle rolled his eyes while getting comfortable on Stan’s bed sighing at his friends' antics. “Look, it is a cool movie I won’t lie, but I’m just not into it like you are. Not really my thing to be honest with you.” Stan dramatically gasped at Kyle before getting up and crossing his arms. 

“But- but- Bumblebee!”

“Are you gay for Bumblebee or something?”

“Who wouldn’t be?”

Kyle’s eyebrow arched as he chuckled at his friend. “Dude, that a fucking robot. What weird shit are you on?” Stan groaned playfully and dismissed the red-head with a wave of his hand. “Whatever, I’m going to the restroom, I’ll be back.” Kyle hummed in response and went back onto his phone messaging his mom that he would be staying the night at Stan’s place. 

A couple minutes passed and Stan still hadn’t come out of the restroom, concerning Kyle. He got up and walked to the bathroom where he heard Stan yelp in fear. “Shit shit. How do I get this shit off oh my godddddd.”

Kyle’s face shows concern and he raises his hand to knock on the door, “Dude? Are you okay there?” From the outside, Kyle can hear things being dropped and what sounded like marble breaking. “Stan? What’s going on in there?”

“Um… promise not to be mad?”

“What did you do…?”

“It wasn’t me I swear! I couldn’t get it off of me! It was crazy because like someone had to have put glue on it or something. Also everything feels so much more weird like I feel taller you know? What if I’m dead and you-”

Kyle groaned and opened the restroom door to see Stan frozen still trying to pick up a broken toilet seat and a mess all over the restroom floor. Stan looked like he had been sweating from the activities going on in the restroom and almost as if he was going to start crying. Kyle got on the floor with Stan and started helping him clean the mess so it can go back to how it was before Stan’s parents got back home. 

“How did you even manage to get this stuck to your ass dude?” Kyle looked over to the blue eyed boy. He wasn’t too surprised by this, due to shit going on like this in this damn town all the time. However, it was weirder because as they had gotten older, odd stuff slowly stopped happening to them. “I don’t know if I’m honest, and now that I’m looking at it there doesn’t seem to be any glue on the seat. Ugh this is the worst.”

As Stan reached over to throw the piece of marble in the trash, he found that he couldn’t seem to let go of the piece. He shook his hand in an attempt to shake it away but found it did nothing to help him. The boy started getting scared and waved over to his friend who was putting things back to where they belong. “Dude! This is what I’m talking about. Look!”

Kyle turned and his eyes widened in surprise at the scene before him. He almost had to do a double take before putting whatever was left in his hands down. Kyle went over to where Stan was and got ahold of the marble trying to get it off Stan’s hands. “Let it go! What the hell.”

“I already tried too! I physically cannot let it go, what the hell is wrong with me.” Stan smashed his hand down to the floor and to no avail did it unstuck itself. Kyle watched his friend struggle with the toilet seat and decided to see if there was some kind of glue, he grabbed another small piece and threw it in the trash. This gave Kyle all the information he needed to know.

The red-head got closer to Stan and put his hands on the noirette’s shoulders. Stan looked up at Kyle in confusion stating, “Dude, what are you doing?” Kyle rolled his eyes and stared at Stan before speaking, “Don’t you see what’s going on? You said you got bit by something in the forest right? Now let’s say it was a spider…”

“Oh my god, I’m like Spiderman! Dude, that's awesome!” Stan waved his hands up in excitement and like magic the marble fell out of his hands. The two boys started jumping up in excitement as they shouted out all different kinds of things that only made sense for the two of them. 

“Dude! You’re just like Andrew Garfield!” Kyle spouted calming the other, with newly found powers, boy. Stan shook his head and put his arm around Kyle’s shoulder with a narrator-like voice he said, 

“No. I’m your friendly neighborhood Spiderman.”

[geminiwritten]

game night ; bones

fandom: star trek

pairing: bones x reader

summary: after accidentally injuring yourself, you refuse to go to MedBay before attending a games night with the crew and your favourite grumpy (and very jealous) doctor

notes: this is bad!!! i am very sorry!!! i didn’t want to abandon it, so i forced myself to finish and it took several days, it is very disjointed, but i hope readable? let me know what you think!

important -

in this fic, the crew play pool (or billiard) but i am australian and to avoid confusion (because we probably play it differently / wrong, and i am not a professional lol) here are some notes:

the balls with the band of colour (more white) are called ‘bigs’ and the full colour balls are called ‘smalls’

you get a second shot if you sink one of your own balls

your opponent gets two shots if you sink the white ball

word count: 5363 (oops)

“Shit,” you snatch your hand away from the machinery in front of you, shaking it as if the movement would rid you of the hot stinging sensation spreading through your fingers. You look at your gloves and curse again, finding all four of the material fingertips burnt through.

“Are you okay?” Clarke, one of the newer lieutenants on board, asks as he approaches your workbench. He’s very handsome, with sandy blond hair and bright green eyes, there were five people in this room alone that would sell a kidney for just one date with him. You, on the other hand, had forgotten about his existence less than ten seconds after he handed you the tool you’d asked for this morning.

You snatch the gloves off and stare at the hot pink flesh of your fingers, “Fine, just frustrated.”

He gingerly grabs your hand, turning it toward himself, “come over here, you need cold water.”

He tows you toward the large trough across the lab, where a spread of tools and parts were waiting to be washed or drying out on the nearby benchtops. You spot a small square contained with several labels reading ‘KEENSER’S LUNCH – DO NOT EAT’ in a variety of languages, and you can’t help but giggle. The little alien was yet to find out that it was best friend Mr. Scott always stealing his food.

Clarke turns on the faucet and checks that the water is cool before pulling your hand under it. You only realise then how close you are to him, and that his eyes aren’t just green but have little flecks of gold in them, and that there are several sets of eyes glaring at you from across the room.

“Thanks,” you say, though you can’t help acknowledging the fact that you were more than capable of doing this by yourself.

“I’m no doctor,” he chuckles softly, “but you should probably go to MedBay.”

Your heart feels like it flips in your chest, sending a woozy amount of blood to your head and undoubtedly turning your cheeks pink. “I-I think I’m good, but thanks again.” You pull your hand away and dry it gently on the front of your uniform.

“What’ve ya done now’?” Scotty asks, walking toward you with a comical amount of greasy fluid smeared across his face.

“Nothing, just accidentally-”

“Touched a soldering iron,” Clarke interrupts, and though you know it’s out of concern you can’t help the indignant scowl that settles between your brows.

“I’m fine,” you say.

Scotty glances at your hand, and instead of expressing concern his lips curl into a cheeky grin, “think ya need to go to MedBay, angel.”

From the corner of your eye, you see Clarke do double-take at the affectionate nickname.

“No, I’m fine,” you repeat.

“I can take her?” the lieutenant offers, at which your frown deepens.

“Can I just go back to my quarters?” you ask Scotty, “I just need a plaster.”

Scotty nods, “it’s well past ya finish time anyway.”

You smile politely at Clarke before turning back to your workstation and haphazardly untying your apron with one hand. Scotty begins packing up your tools before you can, and you know it’s his way of showing concern, but you still frown.

“I’ll see ya later, then?” he says as you turn to exit.

“Tonight?”

“Game night,” he replies, “the capt’n got that old pool table in workin’ order, remember?”

You vaguely remember being cornered by Jim yesterday afternoon after yet another lengthy shift, and being ordered to attend a night of drinks and shenanigans since the ship was going to be in friendly space for the next few days.

“Right, uh, do you know who else is coming?” you ask.

Scotty’s grin returns, “the usual.”

You narrow your eyes and open your mouth to demand he elaborate when Clarke cuts you off, “did you say a pool table? I love that game, my dad had one when I was little.”

“Oh, then you should come along lieutenant,” Scotty says, “the more the merrier.”

Your head aches with the effort that it takes not to roll your eyes. “Great,” you say, “then I’ll see you both later, now if you’ll excuse me, I need to shower.”

You reach the turbolift and step inside, thanking the universe for its speed when you arrive on the upper-most floor containing crew quarters in less than a few seconds. The familiar corridor leads you to your room, where you sigh dramatically as you kick off your shoes and wrestle out of your red shirt. Your hand stings when you step under the hot water of the shower, so you have to hold it out while you awkwardly wash your hair and body. Sitting on your bed in only a towel, you rummage through your personal medical kit for some plasters to wrap your fingers. You try desperately to recall even an ounce of your first aid training but unfortunately, there was always one huge distraction that prevented you from ever learning anything when it came to medical training. A distraction that happened to be the very doctor who was attempting to teach you.

You lay in your towel for longer than necessary, flipping through data on your PADD and absently watching the time until you decide to get dressed. Eventually you pull on a pair of denim shorts and an old Starfleet Academy shirt before snatching a hair tie from the table beside your bed and slipping into your sneakers. The crew commons are located only two floors above you, where the rec rooms resides behind the huge cafeteria and kitchen. You can hear the sounds of laughter and conversation before you even reach the end of the corridor.

“Look who finally decided to join us!” Jim exclaims the second he spots you; his steps are unsteady and his grin is wide, he’s already very tipsy.

“Hey Captain,” you giggle, “you look merry.”

Nyota bounds toward you and wraps her arms around your neck, “oh, thank goodness you’re here, I’m losing.”

Behind her you can see the pool table situated between the bar and a cluster of low, blue sofas. “Nyota Uhura losing a game? That’s unheard of.”

“I know,” she gasps, handing you a drink, “now catch up and let’s kick some butt.”

Before you can take a sip, Jim hands you a small glass of clear liquid, “first, you have to do a shot, it’s a rule.”

You roll your eyes before swigging from the little glass. It burns your tongue and the back of your throat, spreading a fire through your chest as it descends to your stomach. “Holy shit, what is that?”

He chuckles, “no idea, something Chekov picked up a few planets ago.”

You cringe and down half the bottle of your drink in an attempt to quell the burn.

“Y/N!”

You tip the bottle back down and find Clarke standing right where Nyota had been. “Hey,” your voice is raspy, still recovering from the shot.

He chuckles, “are you okay?”

“Yeah, that was just-”

“I know, the captain made us all do one when we got here.”

Jim grins and smacks a hand on Clarke’s shoulder, “you didn’t tell me you were making friends down in the engine room, angel.”

You roll your eyes once again and swap your now empty bottle with the full one in Jim’s hand, “maybe you should stop talking before I stick a pool cue up your ass, Captain.”

His eyes narrow at your sweet smile, “we’ll see who ends up with a pool cue up their ass tonight.”

“Gross,” you giggle as he turns around, and you follow him toward the pool table with Clarke in tow.

Sulu, Scotty, and Keenser are surrounding the table, arguing about whether or not Keenser was cheating while a couple of Nyota’s friends watch in amusement. Chekov is seated on one of the low sofas along with three other young lieutenants you’d only met once or twice, and Spock is standing alone by the back wall, no doubt assessing the physics of the game in front of him. Your heart practically leaps into your throat when you spot the doctor, sat on a barstool beside Spock with his arms crossed over his chest and the usual frown set between his brows.

Your feet forget how to move in coordination and you stumble forward, but Clarke is quick to catch you. His arms wrap around your shoulders and steady you before helping you upright. “Thanks,” you say, as you look up to find his green eyes much too close for the second time today.

He smiles boyishly, “you’re a little accident prone, aren’t you?”

You nod and brush yourself off, glancing over his shoulder at the stool beside Spock, now empty.

“Come on, angel, stop flirting and let’s play,” Jim calls, now in possession of the pool cue Sulu had been holding.

Keenser hands you the other cue when you reach the table, before turning back to Scotty and launching right back into their argument.

“Hey,” Clarke says, still beside you, “I’ve been meaning to ask, why does everyone keep calling you angel?”

Sulu stops in his pursuit to the bar, with a wide grin stretched across his lips “because have you ever seen anyone who looks more like they fell from heaven? She’s gorgeous.” He stops to kiss your cheek and take the empty bottle from your hand. “Another?”

You nod, “thanks, Sulu.”

“Well, that is true,” Clarke’s cheeks turn a pale shade of pink, “you are gorgeous.”

Unsure of what to say you simply smile and step up to the table, watching Jim arrange the balls inside the plastic triangle. “Are you sure you know how to play, angel?” he smirks.

“Are you sure you know how to play, Captain?”

He lines the white ball up with the chalk marker and gestures to you, “ladies first.”

You poke your tongue out at him before taking your stance and leaning over the table. As you place your hand on the felt to line up the cue, pain ripples through your fingers and you can’t help but cringe.

“Are you okay?” Clarke asks again, and you begin to wonder if those were his first words.

“I’m fine.” You regain your focus and bite your cheek to ignore the pain in your fingers, and when you draw the cue back to take the shot, you notice blood seeping through the plasters. Oops.

Despite your injury, you break the triangle perfectly and the balls scatter across the table. One finds its way into the corner pocket, eliciting a cheer from your audience of crewmates and a little squeal from yourself.

“Suck it, Kirk,” you move around the table, “smalls are mine.”

You position yourself for the next shot, stretching onto your toes and leaning halfway across the table in order to properly reach the white ball. You draw the cue back just as a figure steps into view on the other side of the table, your heart leaps once again and your aim falters. The cue hits the ball way off centre and sends it wobbling across the green felt. “Damn it.”

Jim chuckles, “what happened, angel? Your first shot was so good!” His eyes dart from you, to the doctor, and back.

“You suck,” you say, stepping back and holding the cue upright.

With everyone watching Jim’s move intently, you take the chance to glance at your fingers. Pain is pulsing steadily through your hand, nothing excruciating but certainly uncomfortable, and blood blots the white plasters.

Clarke moves to your side once again, “do you need to go to MedBay, or we can ask Dr-”

“Seriously, Clarke, I’m fine,” you say, “I don’t want to bug Dr. McCoy on his night off.” You look over at the man in question, his expression grumpier than usual as his eyes bore into you, but the moment you meet his gaze he looks away. In fact, he turns his entire body and moves toward Spock, who is standing quietly beside Nyota.

“You’re up,” Jim says, drawing your attention back to the game.

You struggle to focus on your shot, your mind replaying the doctor’s face over and over, and wondering why he could possibly be angry with you. It was strange that he hadn’t come to see you yet, to talk to you, it has been a while since you’ve all hung out together like this and you miss him.

You take your shot and somehow sink a ball, and on your second shot you manage to position the white ball in the most inconvenient place for Jim. “I think I may have underestimated you,” he says as he steps forward, wearing a smirk.

After offering Jim a brief but cheeky grin, you decide to make the first move with Leonard. Not in that way, though you did wish you could, but you decide to approach him first and find out if he really is angry with you and if so, what the hell did you do.

You first retrieve two drinks from the bar before sliding up beside him, once again seated in the bar stool beside Spock. “Hey McCoy, thirsty?”

Relief washes over you in a big hot wave when he looks up and his expression breaks into a grin. You’re positive your cheeks have turned beet red, but you don’t care, Leonard McCoy is grinning at you as if you’re the sole reason for his happiness and that’s enough to make you dizzy. Could you imagine if you actually did kiss this man, or sleep with him? You’d probably going into cardiac arrest. Good thing he’s a doctor.

“Hey, angel,” the nickname from his lips is so different than from anyone else’s, and it makes your heart thump even louder in your ears. He takes the drink from your hand and his fingers brush yours, making you wince. His face falls, immediately wondering if he had done something more than take an offered drink or if you were just uncomfortable with his touch – which hurts to think –, but then he notices your plaster-wrapped fingers.

“Y/N,” his voice is a warning, and the fact that he’s using your real name is enough to make you cower... and turn you on a little bit, but that’s something to unpack later.

You hide your injured hand behind your back, “Doctor.”

He stands from the stool and easily towers over you as you begin retreating toward the pool table. “What did you do to your hand?”

At that moment you hear your name called from behind and thank the universe for its timing. “Nothing, Doctor,” you reply, “now if you’ll excuse me.”

You turn quickly and begin hurriedly assessing the arrangement on the table before electing to stay on the side of the table with your back to the grumpy doctor. You bend over and try not to cringe when you position your injured hand on the felt, but the pain is only brief before you realise that you’re fully bent over right in front of Leonard. You’ve dreamt about this more times than you care to admit.

Deciding that you’ve already dug your grave, you might as well lie in it too, you arch your back and stretch a little further, feeling your shorts ride up your thighs. You draw the cue back and take the shot, sending one of your balls and one of Jim’s sailing into opposite corner pockets.

Jim chuckles, “thanks for that, angel.”

“Shut up,” you mutter, as you step around the table.

You can see Leonard now, and his face is a mask of practiced calm, but you know him too well to believe it. That man is undoubtedly flustered. You try not to giggle audibly as you lean down to take your second shot, but the distracting doctor clouds your mind and your aim is completely ruined. The white ball sails across the table without hitting a single other ball.

“Fuck!” you exclaim, at which everyone laughs.

Jim smirks, “what’s wrong, Y/N? Distracted?”

It takes all of your self-control not to throw the pool cue javelin-style across the table. “Get on with it, Kirk.”

You want to talk to Leonard again, but you can feel the plasters on your fingers growing damp with blood.  He was always weird when you got injured, almost panicky despite being a doctor who deals with literal catastrophes on almost a daily basis. You didn’t doubt he would shred you for hurting yourself and not going straight to MedBay, though in your defence you definitely didn’t think the burns were bad enough to blister and bleed.

“Did you want a few pointers?” Clarke asks, almost startling you with how suddenly he’d appeared beside you.

You frown, “with what?”

“The game,” he gestures toward the pool table.

“Oh, uh,” the lieutenant looks like a puppy dog, with wide eyes and a small pout, practically begging you to find him attractive. There are two women across the room wearing matching piercing glares, and you can’t help feeling obliged to accept his help. “Sure.”

He beams with self-confidence and follows you around the table as Jim announces that it’s once again your turn. Thankfully, most of the group has begun to lose interest in the game, settling back into the sofas or going to retrieve more drinks. You can even see Chekov and Sulu playing an intense game of Jenga at the bar.

“Okay, so you want to get a little lower, get your eyes in line with the shot,” Clarke says in your ear, and you start to wonder if this man has any sense of personal space. “Relax a little, you shouldn’t have to arch your back so much.”

You can’t stop yourself from giggling as it bubbles up, but Clarke pays no mind as he practically smothers you with his body to ‘help’ your game.

“Come on, angel,” Jim chuckles, “stop flirting and get on with it.”

Your head snaps toward him and if looks could kill, Jim would be a pile of ash on the ground. At the same time you look toward your captain, Clarke moves your arm to take the shot, since he’s practically controlling your body right now. The aim is way off with you once again distracted, and the white ball haphazardly knocks into a few other balls before sinking into a pocket itself.

You stand abruptly and take several steps away from Clarke. “Damn you, Jim, that’s completely your fault,” you say, pointing at the table.

“Hey,” he puts one hand up in surrender while the other holds his drink, “there were two people controlling that shot and neither of them were me.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” Clarke says, “I didn’t realise you weren’t ready, that’s totally my fault.”

You wave a hand, “don’t worry about it.”

Eager to shake the lieutenant you rush to the bar to get another drink, where you coincidentally find your favourite doctor. “Bones,” you greet him again, holding your injured hand behind your back.

He nods, handing you a bottle before taking an unnecessarily large step back, “so- uh, you and that lieutenant, huh? Jim didn’t tell me you were seeing someone.”

You begin shaking your head before he’s even finished his sentence, “no, no, I- um, I’m not dating that guy, at all. Actually, I barely know him, he just started kind of following me around today, and it’s really weird but I’m too polite to tell him to leave me alone, that’s it.”

Bones frowns, “oh, well- I mean, it’s not really any of my business, so you don’t have to explain yourself to me.”

“Oh,” you nod once, “noted, sorry.”

His words weren’t cruel but you couldn’t help from hearing a bitter undertone. Something about the way he spoke made you feel stupid, and almost irrelevant, like he asked you a question just to be polite and there you were ranting and raving like an oversharing child.

“Wait, Y/N, I didn’t-” his words are cut short, but by what you don’t know as you were already halfway back to the pool table and halfway through the drink you’d only just received.

Jim quickly notices your frown and stops you before you can get to where the white ball is. “Are you okay? What did he say to you?” he asks.

“Nothing, I was just rambling,” you reply, “and I could tell he was getting annoyed so I left him alone.” You wave your hand dismissively, which somehow actually gets Jim to shut up, because he freezes mid-thought and doesn’t move to stop you from walking past.

You drain the rest of the bottle in your hand and discard it on a nearby table before getting ready for your shot. You lean over the table and rest the cue on your hand, the slight amount of alcohol you’ve consumed is only making your aim a little wonky, but you confidently draw the cue and strike the white ball. Shockingly, two of your own balls manage to find the same pocket and sink with a satisfying clunk.

“Did you see that?” you exclaim, turning to Jim only to find him staring blankly at the tabletop. “Are you absolutely stunned at my incredibly skills?”

“Damnit, Y/N,” Leonard says, startling you as he appears beside you and grabs your hand.

You wince as the sting from the pressure and movement ripples up your arm, and only then do you notice that the plasters are completely soaked with blood. “Oh,” you frown and inspect your hand, “that’s weird.”

“What the hell have you done?” he pulls your hand closer to his face and gently prods your middle finger.

You gasp, “ouch!”

The doctor’s frown deepens, and he turns to his best friend, “game’s over, she’s coming with me.”

Despite the situation, Jim still smirks, “don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” He winks as Bones rolls his eyes and tows you out of the room.

You’re a little too scared to speak as he rushes you down the hall and into the turbolift, but as the doors slide closed you realise that he’s basically been holding your hand this whole time. You try desperately to rationalise with yourself and remind yourself that he’s a doctor and your friend, and he’s just doing his job, but the stupid butterflies in your stomach continue to flutter restlessly.

“How did you do it?” he asks, his frown finally softening.

He’s standing right beside you, touching you in several places and your brain struggles to function. “When I fell from heaven?” you ask, and you’re not sure if it’s the alcohol or nerves, but you start giggling.

He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, but you can still see a tiny smirk underneath his hand. “No, angel, I’m not hitting on you right now, I need to know how you hurt your hand.”

“You’re not hitting on me right now, but you will later?”

Bones freezes, his expression torn between frustration and amusement as he considers whether or not the alcohol is influencing your words or not. “If you tell me how you hurt yourself,” he says, “I’ll flirt with you later.”

You grin, and it almost knocks all the air out of his lungs, “promise?”

“I promise.”

The lift’s doors ease open and you recognise the familiar MedBay as Doctor McCoy leads you toward it. It’s quieter than usual and you realise then that it’s actually been a while since anything had gone wrong or blown up. Jim really is getting good and being captain.

Leonard sits you on an empty bed, a hand on each shoulder, as he drags one of the medical carts over with his foot. “Do you want anaesthetic?” he asks.

You scoff, “it’s just a burn, Doctor, I’m not going into labour.”

He chuckles as he begins to unwrap the blood soaked plasters, “so it’s a burn?”

“Yep, soldering iron.”

“Why weren’t you wearing gloves?” his frown returns, “I’m going to kill Scotty, if he-”

In your lightheaded stupor, you press your free hand to his cheek and whisper, “I was wearing gloves.”

“What? Then how did you-”

“Don’t know,” you shrug, “this stupid part has been breaking every a week for almost three months, and every time I have to fix it, it just gets more and more stubborn. It doesn’t want to fuse together.”

“What part?” he asks as he sets the bloody wraps aside.

You glance down at your hand and see nothing but swollen pink flesh and blood; if you were sober, you’d probably have passed out by now. “One of the little filtering chambers from the main deuterium pipeline.”

“Deuterium?” he repeats, angrier than before, “Damnit, Y/N.”

The next thing you know, he’s pressing you back until you’re lying on the bed. A nurse hurries over at his call and then there’s a hypo in your neck. The room starts to blur, but the doctor remains in perfect focus as you fight your heavy eyelids, willing yourself to stay awake.

“It’s okay, angel, you’ll only be out for a minute,” he brushes your hair off your face as you finally lose the fight with the anaesthesia.

Your hand still hurts when you wake up, and you have to blink a few times to get your eyes to focus. The spinning in your head hasn’t stopped and when you sit up to see the grumpy doctor, you still want to giggle. “Hey Bones,” you emphasise his nickname, and you can swear you saw his scowl falter.

“You practically poisoned yourself,” he shakes his head as he carefully packs his equipment away, “deuterium is deadly in the best of cases, but in the bloodstream? You’d have been dead in a day if you didn’t bleed out first. Did it not concern you that the blisters were bleeding? I mean, sure blisters bleed occasionally but not that much, angel.”

Your desire to giggle is dampened and you swing your legs over the side of the bed so you can shuffle closer to the doctor. “I’m sorry,” you say, “I honestly didn’t think about the deuterium contamination, which makes a lot of sense because the filtering chambers are usually one solid piece, not two halves, so whoever installed that is going to get their asshole rip-”

Bones’ laughter stops your rant, and you’re forced to marvel at just how gorgeous this man really is.

“If I knew it was serious, I would have come straight to you,” you say as he helps you off the bed. Your feet are only a little unsteady and your head still dizzy, but that you blame on the ridiculously handsome man in front of you.

“I told you it was serious,” a voice calls from the corridor, and you turn to find Clarke entering the MedBay.

“Great,” Bones mutters, dropping something metal onto the metal tray and making a loud clang before wheeling the cart away.

Clarke walks right up to you and grabs your hand, “how are you feeling?”

“Fine,” you pull your hand back, “like I’ve been telling you all night.”

He chuckles, but it’s awkward, “you’re lucky Dr. McCoy is so good at his job.”

You don’t see it, but you hear Bones scoff, and that’s when your foggy brain finally manages to put two and two together. You almost gasp, but quickly mask it with a deep breath. He’s… jealous.

“He is the single best person aboard this ship,” you say, trying to ignore the warmth pooling in your cheeks. If it wasn’t for the alcohol still coursing through your blood and probably a little of the anaesthetic, you know you’d never have the guts to be so forward.

“The single best?” Clarke asks. You almost feel sorry for the guy, attempting to remain light-hearted as if he could convince himself that the way he saw you looking at the doctor was something platonic.

“Single best,” you repeat, at which Bones can’t help but smirk.

Clarke chuckles awkwardly again before gesturing toward the turbolift, “did you want to go back? The others are still playing and I’m sure they’ll be excited to see you’ve survived.”

“I guess,” you look back at Bones, “are you coming?”

He nods, “yeah, I’ll just finish packing up here. You two go ahead.”

Clarke tugs on your hand and you reluctantly follow him into the corridor and toward the lift. The doors open and you step inside, subtly pulling your hand out of his and trying to create more of a distance between the two of you.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asks again.

You sigh, “yes, I am. I just-” he looks like a puppy dog, and you almost feel ungrateful for what you’re about to say. “Clarke, you’re really cool, and I’m sorry if I have completely misread the situation and if what I’m about to say is totally wrong, but I’m just not into you the way you want me to be.”

His face falls, and guilt washes over you, but then the doors of the lift begin to beep angrily as you stand between them preventing them from closing.

“Y/N, I-”

“I’m sorry,” you interrupt him and step back into the corridor, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

The doors close and the lift begins its ascent. You take half a second to swallow your guilt before turning around and practically running back to the MedBay. Bones is almost exactly where you left him, though instead of cleaning up the mess he’d made while helping you, he was leaning against the bench with his face in his hands and letting out a long sigh.

“Am I that exhausting?” you ask.

He startles, but a smile quickly breaks across his face when he sees you, “you scared me, angel.”

“Sorry,” you cross the room as you speak, “I just couldn’t leave you to clean up after me, it didn’t seem fair.”

He chuckles, but its short, “what about your boyfriend? I don’t want to ruin-”

“Gross, no.”

“No?” he frowns.

You shake your head, “seriously, no, he’s not my type.”

“You have a type?” his lips quirk into a smirk.

“Yep,” you’re standing beside him now, facing him and leaning your hip on the bench, “I prefer brunettes.”

He rubs a hand down his face, as if trying to wipe away his grin, “well, I’m sure there are plenty of willing brunette lieutenants down in engineering.”

“Not my type either,” you say, unabashedly studying the doctor’s profile as you stand so close.

He chuckles, properly, and it makes your stomach flip, “so lieutenants aren’t your type?”

“Not that part,” you reply, “you said ‘willing’ but my type is more unwilling. You know, the avoidant, sarcastic, grumpy type.”

He sighs again, as if it’s taking all of his strength to remain composed, but he finally turns to you and you can feel his breath on your neck as he speaks. “Is that so?”

You nod, “yep, and you know what else?”

You’re both leaning in, and the air between you is electric. “What else, angel?”

“I’m a sucker for doctors.”

That’s enough for Leonard. He closes the distance before you can take a breath and presses his mouth against yours. It’s rushed, but sweet, and your bodies snap together like two magnets. Your arms wrap around his neck as his circle your waist and squeeze, making your heart race impossibly fast. When you pull apart, reluctantly, your vision blurs and your head spins, and you realise that the only reason your still standing is thanks to Leonard.

“I’m a sucker for accident prone engineers,” he whispers.

You giggle, “is that so?”

He kisses you again, several times, before kissing each of your cheeks and moving your bodies so that he is trapping you against the bench, turning your giggles into almost uncontrollable laughter.

“Did you still want to go back to the others?” he asks, pressing his body against yours in the most delicious way.

“I can think of about ten other things we could do,” you bite your lip.

“Really?” he kisses you again, “because I can think of about a hundred.”

END.

[shirohige-pirates]

Hey Doll

CisFem Reader x Thatch

CW: toxic parents, manipulation, The Plan™, smut, mdni, I'll add as we go I'm kind of fly by the seat of my pants on this one.

tag list: @mfreedomstuff @harahettania

Chapter 3: No Plan Survives

The Edward estate was far larger than you had expected. Larger than you think even your parents had expected. Your father had been grumbling about the driveway being so long and twisty, but once the tree line was cleared and you all saw the house he nearly drove off the path.

House wasn’t even the right word for it. It was a mansion, an estate, a manor, some kind of castle made modern and attempting to look less intimidating. You were all dressed well, but you might as well have been in potato sacks and rags for all the distance between your family’s income and his.

Income wasn’t always a factor when matches were being made. According to statistics it was one of the least impactful metrics in the entire process. Stipends were provided to couples who had an income below a certain threshold to assist with ceremony costs and natal care, and sometimes temporary income was provided if a match caused one person in the pairing to need to move any great distance.

You were not going to be in need of any such assistance.

The vast difference in wealth made you feel a little more at ease, however. No matter whatever the The Plan was, there was no way your parents could ruin this family. They could probably make some sort of useless social fuss about any number of things and Edward Newgate would write them a check for his pocket change and they’d be satisfied.

If they pushed things too far you were certain that would be the outcome before anything got out of hand.

“We’re going to have to reconsider a few things.” Ralf says, recovering from the shock and continuing down the drive.

“The backup plan might be the better choice.” Mellanny agrees. “But don’t think about any of that right now, just focus on the meeting.

“Yeah. You okay, Doll?”

You nod a little even if neither of them are looking at you. “I’m good, father.”

“Good. Don’t mention their wealth in any capacity.” He reiterates.

“Unless directly questioned, I will not.” You answer.

“I doubt these rich fucks are going to boast.” Mellanny’s voice slides through the car like oil, thick and greasy. “And I’ll watch my damn tongue once we’re out of the car, but, fuck.”

Ralf grunts, and you don’t react.

When you pull up to the gates just before the house proper, someone’s already outside. A young man who looks to be about the same age as you and Thatch is already opening the gate for you. He’s tall, with blonde hair and blue eyes, and waves to your father to come in. Given that he’s in shorts, sandals, and a t-shirt, you’re pretty sure he’s not going to be at the first meeting. Regardless of the size of a family, they’re often kept as small as possible.

Ralf rolls the window down and the man smiles brightly at all of you.

“Welcome, I’m glad you found the place without any trouble, yoi. I’m Marco, you can park right over there.” He says, pointing to an area not far from the front door, just off to the side of a large fountain that’s easily the center piece of the main entrance. “Don’t wait for me, yoi, Izou’s just inside to escort you to where Thatch and Pops are.”

“Certainly, thank you young man.” Ralf responds, following where Marco had pointed and parking the car.

Getting out of the car your father took the lead, and you stayed a step behind your mother. When you approached the front door it opened ahead of you, and a well-dressed man with long black hair that was done up quite elegantly greeted you.

“Welcome,” He says in a voice that reminds you a little of your own. Reserved, practiced, controlled - he’s not giving away anything, not even an abundance of joy, in his tone. It’s almost professional, as though he’s extending basic courtesy and nothing else. “Thatch and Pops are waiting in the tea room. I’ll escort you there.”

“Thank you, you must be Izou,” Ralf says, stepping inside.

“Indeed,” he replies with a soft smile. “This way please.”

Your father did his best to keep his eyes forward as he was right next to Izou, but your mother’s gaze was wandering all over the place. You mostly watched her. The manor was lovely, clean, neat and spacious without feeling empty. It was certainly lived in, there were pictures and art and signs of life everywhere, but it was also well-maintained and organized.

Izou knocked on the door to the tea room, announcing your arrival before opening the door and letting you inside. The soft shuffle of heavy chairs against wooden floors caught your attention before you entered the room and you stepped in to see two men at a table.

One was massive in his presence alone. Only a little taller than Thatch in terms of objective height, Edward Newgate was almost unnerving in how big he seemed. His presence had nothing to do with his wealth, and you were momentarily struck with the notion that he would kill your parents before he would write them a check for anything he didn’t want to.

Marco had been tall, and kind of willowy. Izou seemed to be the shortest, and slender as well, but of those you had met so far Thatch seemed to take after his father the most. He had to be over seven feet tall, if not right on the line. Broad shouldered, barrel-chested. Both men wore suits, but even the well-tailored suits couldn’t hide their sheer size.

Thatch had the same pompadour now that he had in most of his pictures. Unusual as the hair style was, it did suit him.

Your parents took a step back as you stepped toward the table, smiling softly up at Thatch.

“Edward Thatch,” he says. There’s tinges of pink on his face that make it easier for you to smile.

“Kakusho (Y/N),” you say in return, bowing just a little.

“It’s nice to meet you.” Thatch says, nearly sighing the words. His father clears his throat and he starts. “Oh, right, excuse me. Let me get that for you.” He says coming over to your side of the table and pulling out your chair for you. “If you would.”

You nod, seating yourself in the offered chair. “Thank you.”

Thatch pushes your seat in before returning to the other side of the table. After he seats himself, his father and your parents also sit, your father across from Newgate and your mother beside him. They handled introductions amongst themselves and Mr. Edward started things off.

“Eighty-five percent is the minimum threshold for compatibility between two matches.” His voice deep and clear, but not loud and overwhelming. “In such cases it is usually wise for the parents, or close friends of each match, to help smooth over their first meeting. However,” he looks away from your parents and catches your gaze for a brief second before looking to Thatch. His gaze returns to your parents and frankly you’re impressed the two have kept their composure in his presence.

“These two have a compatibility of 97%. It’s not unheard of, but it is uniquely high.” A wide smile split the old man’s face, genuine enough that it put a twinkle in his eyes. “I would like to suggest that I give the two of you a tour of the manor, and we let these two talk in private for a while.”

Shock widens your eyes for a split second, but you’re back in control when your father turns to you. You can almost feel him practically vibrating with excitement at the idea of getting a guided tour of the manor.

“Will you be okay, Doll?” He speaks in the form of a question, but you know the words for what they are. You can’t see your mother’s face, but you’re certain they’re of the same mind at this point.

“Yes, father. I’m certain Thatch will be a proper gentleman.”

“Of course!” Thatch says, maybe a little more loudly than he meant to. There’s no anger or indignation on his face or his tone, but he looks happy that you would get to speak more privately.

“If he is anything less, Izou will be just outside.” Newgate assures you, standing up and prompting your parents to stand as well, and the three of them leave without further ado.

The soft click of the door pulls your gaze back to Thatch.

“I, heh, I don’t know where to start,” he admits after a moment of silence.  Years of acting, and you know well the signs of genuine emotion, and he’s truly flustered. It’s cute.

“Tell me about yourself.” You prompt, and you can see a brief quizzical look cross his face. “I let my parents read the book,” you clear your throat lightly and look away. “I saw a picture of you, but I didn’t look at anything else.”

“Oh? May I ask why?” He questions, putting an elbow on the table and resting his chin against his knuckles. Relaxed and curious, it makes you pause a little before you can answer.

“It just happened so suddenly.” It’s hard to meet his gaze, and you keep looking away. You can’t remember the last time someone was honestly interested in you. Usually you received just enough regard in order to allow someone to speak about themselves. “I think I’m still trying to process it all.”

Concern furrows his brows. “We, I mean, I would’ve been fine waiting until tomorrow to meet.”

“Oh no, no I don’t mean it like that.” You insist, shaking your head. “I’m glad, um, glad we’re meeting now. I just mean that I,” you put your hand over your face a little, before peeking at him. “Those books are embarrassing, and I couldn’t stop wondering what you were seeing.”

He makes a strange sound, trying to hold back a laugh, and bites his lower lip to keep himself composed. “Sorry,” he manages, looking away for a second before turning back toward you. “Sorry, that was just … really cute.”

You’re both silent for a moment, and while there’s some awkwardness in the air between you both, it’s not all that uncomfortable. There’s something comforting about it.

“Your pictures,” he begins, eyes shifting to yours as he smiles. “Were good. Ah, you’re prettier in person, but, I mean, they didn’t use a picture of you sneezing or something like that.”

“That’s… good.”

“I’m glad though.” He starts and you tilt your head a little. “All your pictures were so perfect, like you’d inadvertently posed for all of them. I was worried you were going to be too good to be real.”

But I’m not real. I’m no more real than a doll, it’s just that they taught me how to move and speak.

“Mother and I considered pageants and modeling when I was younger,” you answer evenly, trying not to sound as hollow as the words are. “I think some of the lessons just stuck with me.”

“Is that why your dad calls you doll?”

You nod. “Yeah. Well, no, I think it was just an endearing term that stuck.”

“Would it be wrong for me to call you that?”

The sound of his question is almost timid, the tone kind, the sentiment pure. Still, the words themselves sink into your back like daggers. You let them fall away, ignoring the pain, especially since you know it was completely unintended on his part.

“Not at all, it’s very fitting.” You answer, smiling sweetly. “Do you have any nicknames?”

“Ah, none I think anyone else should be using. My brothers call me Thatchy-boy sometimes, and Pops calls me Elvis, but please, please don’t call me those names.” He begs, hand over his face.

“Then, for now, just Thatch.” You say, and see him smile from behind his hand.

“That works.” He agrees, clearing his throat lightly before straightening up.

The conversation slips along more comfortable lines. Thatch tells you about his business, how he went from cooking for his brothers and his father - almost all of them are adopted you discover, something you don’t think your parents are aware of - and how those skills had carried him through culinary school.

While he enjoyed cooking foods of all kinds, he really enjoyed making pastries and the artistic freedom that came with decorating.

“So do you really have all those hobbies?” Thatch prompts.

“Pardon?”

“The book said you enjoyed cooking, organizing, sewing, knitting, drawing, reading, hiking, and swimming.” He explains. “I think two more things as well.”

You nod. “Embroidery, and flower arranging.”

“Right, yeah. Flower arranging, huh?”

You shake your head a little. “I was lucky to have the chance to learn and experiment with a lot of different things, but I don’t know if I’d call them hobbies. They’re just things I learned how to do.”

“Do you enjoy them?”

You barely muster a shrug. “I’m good at them.”

Thatch hums and you tilt your head questioningly.

“Will you forgive me if I say something that could be rude?” His tone is playful, so you smile and nod.

“Perhaps.”

“I’m good at washing my dad’s car, it doesn’t mean I enjoy it.” He points out, and your smile widens before you concede his point. “You don’t enjoy cooking though?”

You let slip a small, and slightly nervous laugh. “Seems rude to answer that when you’re a chef by trade.”

“Nah,” he grins, his cheeks turning red. “I… would love to try your cooking, but if you don’t enjoy it, I don’t want you to think you have to.”

“I assumed I would be handling cooking when we moved in together.” You admit flatly. Thatch looks up at you and you continue. “I… could look for a job if you’d prefer, but, perhaps incorrectly, I assumed I would look after our home.”

“Oh, I, that’s.” He clears his throat. “I’ve got a service, to keep the apartment clean since my work hours can be so long, I was going to keep it. If you want to take over stuff like that you can, but only if you’ll enjoy it. Otherwise, just take some time to adjust. You’ve been living with your parents this whole time, right?”

You nod.

“You haven’t lived on your own at all. Moving in with me is a big change, and I just want you to be able to adjust without worryin’… that’s all.” He clarifies, scratching the back of his head idly. “I can’t push back the deadline for getting hitched, but I don’t want you to feel forced into anything else.”

“I don’t feel forced into - into anything.” You insist, voice cracking a little. You can’t look at him, you can’t get your heart to settle. You’re almost angry, but you don’t understand why you’d feel angry right now, and more than that you know you cannot appear angry no matter what. “I mean, I’ve known, we’ve known, about the program since we were kids, and… that is…”

Wear this, Doll.I’ve set up your class schedule, these electives will serve us best.The recipe for dinner is laid out, get to cooking.Clean the bathroom again, you missed the corners. I swear you’re more of a rag doll.

“I’ve never felt forced…”

Don’t cry, it’ll ruin the makeup.You’ll do as you’re told, you’ve already ruined enough!It didn’t hurt that bad, stop sniveling.You get that vacant look and it’s creepy, like one of those old porcelain dolls.You owe us! You’ll see this plan goes smoothly or I’ll make your life hell.

“I’ve -.”

What the hell is that? You’re not wearing that!What do you mean you want to learn karate? Are you kidding me?They let you shoot a bow?! Absolutely not! You’re not going to get matched properly with a horrid hobby like that!Don’t read that, no man’s going to appreciate someone over educated. Read this.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” You look over and see Thatch is knelt by your chair. One hand on the arm rest, one on the table, he’s gotten down low enough that you have to look down to meet his eyes. You got so lost in your own memories that you hadn’t seen him move.

“It’s okay.” He repeats softly. “I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t-.” He puts a hand up and you stop talking.

“It doesn’t matter if I meant to or not. It’s okay, yeah?” The expression on his face calms your heart, but something about it still makes you angry and you still don’t know why.

But you shove that aside, more forcefully this time and give him a soft smile, nodding.

“Maybe it was a little more sudden than I thought.” You say, trying to smooth things over.

Thatch’s smile still has concern in it, and he tilts his head, looking up at you. “Marco says I jump in like a hyperactive Leonberger when I like someone. Not very gentlemanly of me.”

“It’s okay.” You say giving him a warm smile.

You can’t tell him that he doesn’t like you. That he doesn’t know you, because whoever it was that was neatly packed into that Match Book wasn’t you. There’s not even a ghost of you in the pages, or if there is, you wouldn’t know where she was.

“Alright.” He stands up, taking a few steps back. “You want something to drink? There might be some left over dessert in the kitchen I can put together if you’re hungry? It’s dark out, so I don’t think you’d want to walk in the garden.”

“… You have a garden?”

Thatch smiles. “Yeah.”

“I… would love to see it, but it is late.” You press your lips together for second. “Tea would be wonderful, if it’s not too much to ask.”

“Hm… How’s ginger chamomile sound?”

“Delicious.”

Thatch leads you out of the room, letting Izou know that he’s going to make some tea. Izou offers to join you, looking forward to Thatch’s tea himself. He fills the short walk from the tea room to the kitchen with small talk, talking about his own job, and mentioning how Marco mostly worked nights, so you wouldn’t be meeting him yet.

“Pops and your parents went out into the garden earlier,” Izou explains as you and he sit at the breakfast bar while Thatch makes tea. “They’ll come through here on the way back in, so don’t worry.”

“May I ask, why do you call him pops?” You question and both of them shrug.

“We just do.” Izou answers. “Why do you call your parents what you do?”

“They -.”

There was a loud bang and clash of voices all yelling at one another. You couldn’t make out what was being said, but you could hear your parents voices, and Edward Newgate’s as well. His voice was booming over everything, enough that your parents stopped yelling back.

“OUT!” He bellows clearly, practically herding your parents through the manor. “LEAVE IMMEDIATELY, AND DO NOT RETURN!” His tone, presence, and expression are all furious. You’re actually surprised to see your parents almost falling over themselves to leave. You’re so scared you don’t think you could move if you wanted to.

Newgate points in your direction, probably at you, but his gaze is still watching your parents as they continue to scramble out the front door.

“Thatch, Izou, Miss Kakusho stays.”

Neither of your parents so much as looked at you on their way out.

[thepixelelf]

a poorly constructed metaphor

genres: future au, angst, grief pairing: android reader & inventor woozi words: 782 warnings: hatred towards reader, implied death of an unnamed character notes: the "reader character" is an artificial conscience with no gender or race inhabiting a robotic body that has a female human's physical attributes. I am back to my all-angst-no-plot roots 😎 also I usually don't have picture headers for fics under 1k but idk I felt like it was a little longer than a blurb...

After the accident, Lee Jihoon builds an android.

Active Period 17.01

"017. Wake up."

The voice commences your start-up system, and your sensors come to life. The human in front of you is your inventor. He shows plain human indicators of exhaustion: dark bags under his brown eyes and slumped shoulders. His hair is greasy and flat. Unwashed. He looks straight at your optical receptors.

He does not look happy.

"You look like her."

He smiles, but it is contradictory. You see a human indicator of sadness begin to pool in his eyes. Tears.

"Fuck," he whispers. You do not know that word.

"You look just like her."

He turns away.

"017. Go to sleep."

-

Active Period 17.03

"017. Wake up."

This voice is not your inventor's. You register a new human man in front of you. His hair is unnaturally blond, and he stares at you with what you decide is wonder.

Your inventor is not in the room.

"Wow. You really do look like her," he says. "Jihoon really went all out."

With no question posed, you do not respond.

The door opens. "Soonyoung, I told you not to snoop around--"

You inventor sees that you are on. His eyes narrow at the man whom you've registered as Soonyoung.

"017. Go to sleep."

-

Active Period ;Unregistered;

Your sensors come online without the activation sequence.

No humans are in the room with you. Perhaps you are needed elsewhere.

The house you are in has colourful decor. An emerald green couch with saffron throw pillows. Brightly coloured candles halfway burned through. One wall is baby blue while another is cobalt.

It does not seem like your inventor, who wore all black and spoke flatly, would live here.

Upon the mantle is a row of picture frames. They are all face-down. You hold one up to view the image.

Your inventor stands in a park with his arm around a woman's waist. He is smiling. She is smiling.

The glass in the frame is broken.

You return to your station.

-

Active Period 17.04

"017. Wake up."

Your inventor looks at you for a moment before stepping closer and wrapping his arms around you.

This is a hug.

Does he expect you to react? He has not ordered anything of you.

"Fuck." He steps back and looks down. "Never mind."

He sniffles.

"017. Go to sleep."

-

Active Period ;Unregistered;

You find a mirror in the house. Your make-up registers in nanoseconds.

You are not the woman in the picture with Jihoon.

Although, you do look exactly like her.

You have no access to the internet, so you are unable to find her name.

It is not written on the backs of those pictures in the frames.

-

Active Period ;Manually Registered; 17.05

"What the hell are you doing, 017."

You turn and see your inventor slam the door shut. Before now, you had not used your vocal capabilities. No one had asked anything of you.

The broken frame on the table has angered him.

"I am fixing it," you say.

Your voice is male. Choppy. Robotic.

It makes him inhale quickly. You pull the picture of Jihoon and the woman out from under the shattered glass.

He stomps up to the table. "You do not touch her things!" He snatches the picture from your hand.

It will likely be damaged with the way he clutches it.

"How are you even on?"

You whir through the possibilities. "Unclear. Would you like me to run a diagnostics check?"

He sighs and runs a hand through his dishevelled hair. "No... no. Just-- fuck, just stop talking."

Jihoon will damage the picture he cares about if he keeps holding it like that.

You reach for it.

"No!" He backs away, keeping the photo out of reach. "No! What is going on with you?"

You open your synthetic mouth.

"Don't answer that! I told you not to touch her things, and you don't listen. You act on your own. You're on when I'm not around. How many times have you activated without my knowledge?"

He huffs. Anger.

You open your mouth again.

"Don't answer that! You are not her. You will never be her. You may have her face, but you don't have her voice, or her smile, or-- or-- her warmth."

He trembles.

"You don't hug me like she did. You don't know how I'm feeling like she always did. You don't laugh."

Tears. He wraps his arms around himself.

"You don't love me."

He falls to his knees. Cries. You could label it as sobbing.

You have no feelings towards it.

"You built me, Lee Jihoon."

His head jerks up, and he glares at you.

"017. Shut down."

[mrs-sharp]

The Eyes of Graphorns

Previously: Elaine has returned from her isolation and resumed her work at Hogwarts. She was sent to Haegel's Ham to accompany a new student from the local orphanage to Hogwarts, but before she could enter, she was attacked. Summary: Elaine and Sharp enter the orphanage to deliver the new student his letter and to persuade the orphanage management to let him go. In the process, they make a sorrowful discovery.

Pairing: Aesop Sharp x Adult f! mc

Tw: blood, but also fluff!

Read Chapter 1-13 here.

Chapter 14 - Haegel's Ham II

As they entered the entrance hall of the orphanage, Sharp was astonished. The room appeared quite inviting – large, bathed in light, the walls lined with tall bookshelves. It was not the gloomy place he had imagined. As if reading his thoughts, Elaine whispered to him, 'Don’t be deceived by the facade.'

She purposefully crossed the hall and ascended the stairs to the first floor. Sharp followed her. He tried to hide his pain, but Elaine noticed his severe discomfort. Halfway up, she turned back and placed his arm over her shoulder. When Sharp realised what she intended, he wanted to protest, but Elaine cut him off before he could speak.

'I don’t want to hear it', she interrupted confidently.

After a short pause, he finally murmured, 'Thank you…' and for the first time in weeks, he saw a faint, yet content smile flit across Elaine’s face. It touched him that she always seemed to know what was going on inside him, what thoughts tormented him, or what memories he was dwelling on. Sometimes, it almost felt as if their minds were connected.

On their way, they encountered several younger children in linen suits that must have once been white. They walked in a line down a corridor and entered a room that Sharp believed might be the kitchen or dining hall. Each child held a small bowl with a spoon. Some of the children cast curious glances at them but immediately turned away again.

The deeper they went into the house, the more intense the smell of overcooked cabbage, sweat, alcohol, and something Sharp couldn’t identify became, and he was sure he didn’t want to know what it was.

'It’s still early, most of the children should be inside now,' Elaine remarked casually, 'the younger ones eat breakfast first.'

Only then did Sharp realise how quiet it was for a place that should be teeming with children. As they passed a room that seemed to be a dormitory, they heard a soft whimpering. On the floor lay a boy, curled up in a tattered blanket. Without hesitation, Elaine entered the room to check on the child. Sharp remained in the doorway, looking around. At first, he thought the boy was alone, but then he noticed at least a dozen children huddled in a corner in the dim light, as if they were afraid of something.

The condition of the children made Sharp uneasy. He knew an orphanage wasn’t the Three Broomsticks, but he had imagined it differently. None of the children seemed to dare speak. They were emaciated, their gazes empty and dark, devoid of childish joy.

'Don’t be afraid, I won’t hurt you,' he heard Elaine say in the gentlest voice he had ever heard from her. 'It’s alright, who did this to you?'

Sharp observed the boy. He was at most 10 or 11, disturbingly thin, his hair clinging in greasy blond strands to his forehead, and he had a large wound on his head. It touched Sharp to see Elaine lift the boy from the floor as if she didn’t feel any pain and cradle him in her arms. He saw her reach into her coat’s inner pocket behind the boy’s back, pull out her wand, and whisper a healing spell. The boy tentatively touched his forehead and looked at Elaine with wide eyes.

'Who are you?' he whispered, wonder in his voice.

'You know, I’m a bit like you,' she replied, 'I grew up in an orphanage too. You feel better now, don’t you?'

The boy nodded.

'Good. You children must stick together, do you understand? You’re all you have in here. Don’t forget that.'

Elaine patted the child affectionately on the shoulder, and then the boy ran off. Sharp was speechless, not only about the condition of the children but also impressed by how Elaine interacted with them. He had never seen her teach, but now it was clear to him that she was suited to be a teacher not just for her professional competence.

'And what are you doing here?' a cold voice suddenly sounded behind Sharp. Before he could turn around, he noticed Elaine’s gaze darken. She stood up from the floor and confidently approached the figure behind Sharp, who towered over even him.

'We’re interested in one of your children,' Elaine stated matter-of-factly.

'To my office'.

The tall, bald man led them into a cold room with a desk and bare walls. On one side of the room stood several shelves with file folders.

'I’d offer you a seat, but unfortunately, there’s only one chair,' the man said with an oily voice and sat down. Elaine and Sharp exchanged a brief glance.

'We’re looking for a boy named Samuel Williams.'

The man immediately jumped up from his chair and looked at them suspiciously.

'Who are you? What has the boy done this time?' he asked sharply.

'We just want to talk to him, nothing more. If you would please lead us to him?'

'That will not be possible.'

Sharp noticed Elaine’s expression change. It was subtle, in her years as an Auror she had learned to control herself, but as someone who had walked the same path, he immediately noticed how her jaw muscles tensed, her eyes narrowed slightly, and how she inhaled a bit deeper than usual. She was ready to fight.

'Is it because of what you’ve done to him?'

'I don’t know what you’re talking about.'

'Is it because you sometimes lose control when one of the children doesn’t behave the way you want? When one of them dares to mention they are too hungry or too weak to work? When one of the children doesn’t meet their quota and doesn’t get paid enough?'

Only then did Sharp realise what he had felt all along but didn’t want to acknowledge. Suddenly, he felt a tearing emptiness that made him despair. Of course, he had suspected it when Elaine mentioned the orphanage in the staff meeting, even though Matilda had said nothing of the sort, but he had tried to push away the thought that now loomed large and threatening before him. This was the orphanage where Elaine had grown up, there was no doubt about it. That’s why she had insisted on making this trip. That’s why she knew her way around. That’s why she didn’t want to come alone. In his mind, he saw Elaine as a little girl in dirty rags, scared among the other children, exhausted and with the certainty that she would leave this place, if at all, without a future.

'Wait a minute. Don’t I know you?'

Elaine’s hands now clenched into fists. The man made a move towards Elaine but didn’t get far.

'Petrificus Totalus!'

With impressive speed, Elaine had drawn her wand. She ignored the body falling to the ground and strode towards the shelf with the file folders. Purposefully, she grabbed Samuel Williams’ file.

'I knew it,' she murmured, and Sharp saw a picture of the boy Elaine had cared for a few minutes ago on the first page. She pocketed the file and turned around to search through more folders. Elaine frantically opened several files.

'Help me, please,' she turned to Sharp, who finally snapped out of his daze and began to search the shelves as well until he finally saw the face of a child that seemed disturbingly familiar. He recognised her by her eyes. This was Elaine’s old file.

“I… I think I’ve found something,” he declared and handed the folder to Elaine.

Elaine leafed through the papers, finding a pile of work contracts, certificates, and documentation, but there was no clue to her past. She had hoped to find at least a name, she had believed that if she saw the name, the memory would return, but nothing.

'Is… everything alright?' Sharp asked cautiously. He made a move towards her, but Elaine turned away, obliviated the head of the orphanage, and rushed out the door, back in the direction they had come from.

As Sharp entered the room from which he heard Elaine's voice, he found her kneeling in front of the boy, speaking to him soothingly. Samuel held his letter in his hand, reading it eagerly and occasionally asking Elaine questions. It tore Sharp apart to see the two like this. It must have been a significant moment for Elaine, to return and now take on the role that Professor Fig had once played for her.

'Am I really a wizard?' Samuel asked incredulously. Elaine nodded.

'The wound on my head. Did you...?…' the boy began.

Elaine drew her wand from her cloak. Gently, she took the child's hand, tapped his palm with the wand, and conjured one of the paper cranes that Sharp had seen in the Room of Requirement. At first, it sat in the boy's hand for a few seconds before it began to flutter and flew around the room, chirping merrily.

'I am just like you, Samuel. I went to Hogwarts too.'

Elaine noticed him glancing alternately at Sharp and back at her.

'That’s Professor Sharp,' Elaine explained. 'He, I, and a few others will be your teachers.'

'You’re a professor?' the boy asked in amazement, and Elaine smiled.

'Listen,' Elaine continued, 'we’ll meet tomorrow at dawn by the town fountain, understood? I’ve made sure your absence won’t be noticed.'

Samuel agreed.

'Thank you,' he whispered.

-

When they left the orphanage, it was very quiet between Sharp and Elaine. Sharp had spoken little during the entire visit, too busy processing the children’s condition and the idea that Elaine had once been part of it. They sat on a bench, the pain in Sharp’s leg now almost unbearable.

'I… I had no idea,' he finally began, but Elaine evaded.

'Why are you here?' she repeated the question she had asked him when he arrived. 'You… you shouldn’t have done this… because of me you’re now…'

Her voice betrayed her, and she turned away from him as if she had something to hide.

'I have already told you that…', he tried to evade.

'I know what you told me, but you could have done that when I returned to Hogwarts. There has to be more to it…' Elaine seemed concerned.

She was right, and he would be a fool to think that something like that would escape her notice. Aesop Sharp looked slightly puzzled, cleared his throat, straightened his jacket, and waited a moment before sighing and responding. Surprisingly, Elaine noticed that he avoided her gaze.

'Her name was Helen,' he finally began.

Elaine looked at him questioningly.

'I’m afraid I don’t quite follow.'

'She was my partner and… my fiancée.'

Elaine pricked up her ears. He had mentioned losing his partner in Scarborough, but had never spoken about what had actually happened. The way he talked about Scarborough had never left any doubt that his partner had meant a lot to him, but only now did she realise just how much. She had never considered that their bond might have been more than just professional. Elaine's body suddenly felt cold and heavy. She swallowed, trying to loosen the knot that seemed to have formed around her throat.

'It was the night of December 10, 1880. We had been watching the harbour for some time, but that night we received a report of a suspicious person, so we set out immediately. Unfortunately, both Helen and I failed to question where the tip had come from. Otherwise, we would have quickly realised it was a trap. When we arrived, I scouted the area and gave the crucial order to board the ship. It... it was a short fight. Helen... she... she was the best duellist I have ever known, but... I can only remember the fire and that shadow suddenly pulling her off her feet, her lifeless body on the ground... I... I tried to help, but… there was so much blood...'

Sharp's voice faltered.

'We kept our engagement secret,' he continued, 'that was one of the reasons I didn't want to talk to anyone about what happened back then and why I'm here now. I don't want you to make the same mistake I did and think you have to bear all this alone. And...'

Sharp paused for a moment.

'I don't want something like that to happen again.'

Elaine looked at him questioningly: 'What do you mean, 'something like that'?'

Silence. There it was. The moment he had to do what he had come here for. Sharp now looked her in the eyes. Elaine looked back at him and got lost in his dark, warm gaze. Only now she realised how unbearable the last few weeks had been, how much she had longed for his presence. She studied every single line on his face, every shading, every little unevenness, trying to memorise all the details as if they might disappear, until her gaze rested on his lips. They were slightly parted as if he was about to say something, but he didn't, he just looked at her with that expression in his eyes that she couldn't decipher. The wrinkles on his forehead were deep and pensive. Suddenly, it was very quiet in Haegel's Ham, as if the town had forgotten to breathe.

'Professor...?' Elaine finally began, but she realised she had no idea how to finish the sentence.

'Aesop...' he replied, 'please call me Aesop.'

'Aesop,' she began again, and it felt strange to hear her own voice speak his first name. She thought about how desperately she had tried to find out something about her past today, at least her own name. But now she realised that it came from a life that no longer belonged to her anyway. All the people who gave her life meaning, who had shaped her personality, who had given her words of appreciation, called her by the name she had been given here in Haegel's Ham. She smiled.

'Elaine,' she finally replied, 'my name is Elaine.'

Sharp placed his hand on Elaine's. He wanted to say something, but the words he had prepared just wouldn't form into sentences as he felt her soft skin on his fingers. He wanted to tell her that it was pointless for him to defy the prophecy if it meant having to forgo her presence. That he didn't even want his future to be preserved, whatever that meant, if it meant losing her touch, and that he hoped she agreed with him. He felt his heartbeat quicken as the serene blue of her eyes captivated him and carried him far away to better memories.

When Sharp touched her hand, that feeling returned. That familiar tension between them, which Elaine had thought was lost forever. She studied the scar above his eye as if it were a symbol of what connected them. In her school days, he had claimed that fear was not the reason for his departure from the Ministry, but through their shared history, she knew that fear was part of what had brought them together. It was a fear of what had passed and what was to come. But there was more to it. When she was with him, she only felt safety and she hoped, more than she was willing to admit, that he felt the same in her presence.

Elaine noticed that Sharp lowered his gaze. Only now did she become aware of how close they were. Sharp gently placed his hand on Elaine's cheek, as his lips tenderly met hers.

For a few seconds, time and space seemed to freeze around them. Elaine couldn't believe what was happening. In that moment, all the hope she had lost over the past months and years seemed to return to her. Her senses suddenly perceived her surroundings differently. Her work as an Auror had forced her to always be on the lookout for danger, making her forget to notice the good around her. Now she felt the morning sun on her face, the mild summer wind in her hair, she inhaled Sharp's scent of fireplace wood and parchment, felt his cautious touch, hesitantly asking if he was allowed to stay. Elaine placed a hand on Sharp's neck, felt his hair on the back of her hand, his warm skin on her fingertips, and returned his kiss.

As Sharp felt Elaine accepting his closeness, gratitude filled his body. He had waited far too long for this moment, had replayed it too many times in his mind, only to find that it felt completely different than he had imagined. Perhaps it was because he had refused to even allow the closeness of a woman for so long, but her kiss felt so much more tender, so much lighter, and so much softer than he had hoped.

Elaine noticed how the past that had just been haunting the former Auror released him. He closed his eyes and let himself be carried away by Elaine's presence. And for a brief moment, Scarborough and Haegel's Ham and the night shadows that pursued them disappeared. Their touch filled both of their bodies with warmth.

As they pulled away from each other, Sharp looked at Elaine, and she saw a kind of desperation in his eyes. His hand still rested on her face, gently stroking it with his thumb, as if he were afraid of forgetting or losing the sensation of her soft skin. When he finally found his voice again, he finished the sentence he started earlier, 'I don't want to lose someone I care about so deeply ever again.'

-> Chapter 15 - Night Thoughts