team-bermuda-blog

[wkemeup]

Play Pretend (II)

summary: In the aftermath of Munich, Bucky struggles to go back to how things were before. But now that he knows how it is to love you, he's not sure he can. pairing: bucky x reader word count: 5.8k warnings: smut (18+), mutual pining idiots a/n: here is the final part! make sure you catch up at part 1 first! gif by @crispychrissy

Bucky couldn’t get the image out of his head for days after the mission in Munich. Pictures of you laying so beautifully beneath him, the slight curve of your lips as a moan slipped past, skin so soft it begged to be touched and soothed and worshiped. He couldn’t let go of how you sounded, how you cried out his name or the gentle whimpers spoken so sweetly against his ear. He couldn’t stop craving you wrapped so tightly around him, your hands caressing down his arms, his back, his shoulders, your unbridged desire to touch every part of him, even the parts he despised.

Memories that found him in his sleep in the early hours of the morning, in the shower when his legs were weak and tired, at the breakfast table when you strolled in wearing a t-shirt down to your thighs and the evident curve of your breasts bare beneath the fabric.

Bucky tried to push the thoughts away. He tried to stop thinking of what happened in that cold, abandoned Hydra base. He tried to bury that longing somewhere deep, somewhere he’d never be bothered by it again. But it always came back in the image of you in that cell.

It plagued him. It taunted him.

He wanted more.

He didn’t know how to admit it. Not to himself, and certainly not to you. So, he did his best to suffocate those feelings, those cravings for something real, but they still found their way to the surface.

They spilled over on movie nights with the team and Bucky would find himself inching closer to you, in the gym when he took just a second longer to lift his weight from your body after a winded match that ended on the surface of the mat, on walks around the compound when he found himself wanting to capture your hand in his own as your fingers brushed by.

Those feelings slipped from his smothering hold on missions when he watched your back far more than his own, when he’d missed an obvious target in an attempt to clear your enemy line and ended up catching three bullets himself. He lost composure whenever you didn’t respond on coms or when you’d stumble back onto the quinjet with an injury you’d been hiding. He dove headfirst into fires and threw his body up as a shield and spent every night in agony wondering if you knew that he’d give his whole life to you if you’d asked.

It made him stupid. It made him reckless. It might actually get him killed.

But it hadn’t started in Munich. No, that was just the catalyst of it all. Bucky had loved you long before that drug infiltrated his system and left the two of you in an impossible position. He’d managed to keep his feelings at bay for years; hiding behind quick witted jokes and friendly banter and a genuine friendship and it had been enough. Honest, it had.

Only, now he knew what it was like to be with you. He caught a taste of what it would be like to make love to you and he didn’t know if he could ever forget and move on. It had been weeks since Munich and it still felt like it happened yesterday.

He had to do something to keep it from consuming him, even if it broke your heart. Even if it broke his, too.

***

“What the hell do you mean you can’t work with Y/n anymore?”

Steve groaned, pinching at the bridge of his nose. It had been a long day of debriefing with about a dozen agents making demands he was unwilling to compromise on. This, separating his best team, was among them.

“It’s just not a good idea, Steve,” Bucky said, arms folded tightly over his chest as he watched Steve pace relentlessly down the conference room.

“That’s ridiculous, Buck.” Steve slumped into the chair beside his friend. “You two are the best insurgent team I have.”

“Just trust me. You’ve seen how I’ve been in the field lately. I can’t keep a straight head around her, okay? Not after—” Bucky clenched his jaw, turning away.

Steve sighed, hanging his head. “You ever gonna tell me what happened in Munich?”

Bucky’s lip was chewed raw; scars over broken wounds, teeth digging into painful cracks. It was a nasty habit he picked up after Munich. He wasn’t used to this kind of nervousness; a deep and unsettling feeling churned to stone in the pit of his stomach.

“Reassign me, Steve,” Bucky asked again, firmer. He could feel Steve’s eyes burning on him, tracing every inch of his face, searching for a tell, but he wouldn’t find one. Bucky was trained better than that. He knew to keep his features cold, stoned, even if his heart was pounding against his chest. He wondered it Steve could hear it, too.

The silence hung heavy in the air.

“Alright,” Steve finally conceded. He shook his head reluctantly. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Bucky sighed a breath of relief, the weight of months filled with a longing he couldn’t tame and painful twist in his heart slipping from him in seconds. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me.” Steve stood up from his chair, gathered the papers from the desk and made his way to the door. He paused just at the frame, turned around slowly to find Bucky had relaxed a little too much for his liking and added, “you’re going to be the one to tell her.”

“What?” Bucky scrambled out of his chair, nearly losing his footing and all composure as he stood to face Steve.

“You’ve been partners for years,” Steve shot back tensely. “She’s had your back on countless missions, saved your life on more than one occasion, and—come on, Buck— you guys are friends! The two of you spend every day together, even when you’re benched! You don’t want to give me an explanation? Fine. But you sure as hell owe her one.”

Bucky shook his head rapidly, hands clenching at the fraying edges of his t-shirt. “Steve, I—”

“Just talk to her,” Steve said, a heavy disappointment lingering in his voice. His lips parted, as if there were more he wanted to say, but decided against it. He hung his head, pat Bucky firmly on his shoulder, and left.

***

Had he always been able to hear his own heartbeat like this?

It was pounding in his ears, thunderous, deafening, and he swore just about everyone else on the floor could its thumping as he approached your room.

The door was open ajar with a small glimmer of sunlight streaming out into the dimly lit hallway. You were singly quietly to yourself – humming, maybe – as you sat on the edge of your bed, staring down onto your phone. You didn’t seem to notice him at the door. He knocked.

Your head popped up, surprised at the sudden intrusion and your eyes only narrowed upon finding it was Bucky standing below the doorframe. You looked at him for a moment before you turned back to your phone without saying another word.

He deserved that.

“Can I come in?” Bucky asked sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck. He was still staring into the room through the small slit in the door.

You shrugged. “Depends. Are you still avoiding me?”

A sharp sting burned in his chest as Bucky tried to unclench his jaw. Truthfully, he had been avoiding you for days now. Ever since he made up his mind to ask for a reassignment. It didn’t matter if Steve shipped him off to Alaska or the Amazons or out into space with the goddamn raccoon; all he knew was that every minute he spent beside you was agony and he needed to get away from it – away from you – before it consumed him whole.

None of that was your fault. You didn’t know why he was suddenly too busy to spar on your usual weekdays or join the team for movie nights. He never told you why he suddenly started pulling away, cutting off all contact as if you hadn’t been friends for years before Munich.

“I’ve got something important to talk to you about,” Bucky replied, clearing his throat.

You sat up, sitting the phone down by your side as you recognized the tone in his voice. Clinical. Mission oriented. Business. He didn’t want it to sound so cold, but he wasn’t sure he could do this if it wasn’t.

Bucky stepped into the room, prying the door open gently with a slow squeak on its hinges as he closed it behind him. He’d been in your room dozens of times before, but somehow, in this moment, it felt like an invasion of privacy, like he wasn’t supposed to be there.

He took a deep breath, trying to keep focus. He took a few steps forward and gingerly sat on the edge of your bed, keeping careful distance as he wrung at his hands in his lap.

“I’m being reassigned.”

You furrowed your brow. He could practically hear your heart skip a beat.

“What? No. They can’t do that!” You shook your head, determined. There were traces of disbelief on your face – anger, too. Your hands gripped tightly into the sheets at your sides. “They can’t just reassign you, Buck. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Y/n, you don’t understand,” he started to say, but you were already on your feet, pacing around the room. It was how you calmed yourself when your thoughts were racing too fast. The stabbing pain in Bucky’s chest only seemed to dig deeper.

“I know the field has been messy lately, but that happens to everyone! They can’t split us up because of a few extra trips to the med bay,” you argued, wearing trenches into the carpet of your bedroom. You stopped abruptly. “Who gave the order? Steve? Tony? I’ll take this up with Fury if I have to, okay? I won’t let them—”

“Y/n, stop. Please.” Bucky hung his head. His right hand was red as his left clasped and tugged at the skin. He couldn’t find the courage to meet your eye but he could tell from the way you stilled that you knew what he was about to say. “It was me. I asked for reassignment.”

It didn’t seem to hurt any less though because your stance still faltered. It was barely noticeable, not to the human eye, but Bucky’s sensed were advanced thanks to his time in Hydra. He saw the way your body weight shifted just slightly, how your breath caught in your chest, the slight flicker of your eyes. Shock. Betrayal. Hurt.

“You said it yourself,” Bucky reasoned, trying to find excuses where there were none, “there’s been too many ER trips lately. I keep getting hurt.”

“Because you insist on using your body as human shield, Buck!” you retorted, arms flung out to the sides. “Just knock that off and we’ll be fine!”

Bucky shook his head, his lips curling ever so slightly though it didn’t touch his eyes. “It’s not that simple.”

“Of course, it is!” you argued. You started pacing again. “Don’t be an idiot, Barnes. I’m not losing my partner. Go tell them you were joking or concussed and not thinking straight!”

“I’m not going to do that.” Bucky clenched his jaw. His right hand was starting to lose feeling from how tightly he was gripping it.

Why couldn’t you make this easy on him? You were supposed to be angry with him for ignoring you for the last week. You were angry with him and yet you still fought for him. He couldn’t make sense of it.

The pacing stopped again, though this time it came in slow, like a realization that found its way piece by piece until it melded into a visible image.

“Was it something I did?”

Bucky jumped up to his feet, instinctively wanting to walk towards you but you held your ground. He froze, standing several feet away.

“No,” he said firmly. “God no. You didn’t do anything wrong, Y/n.”

“Then what?” You raised your arms out to the side in question. “We’ve been partners for years, Bucky. I’ve relied on you all that time to have my back, to keep me alive out there, and—and—” you groaned rather loudly, “you’re my best friend! You can’t just up and decide you’re done with me and move on!”

Bucky frowned. “That’s not what this is.”

You shook your head, arms folding tightly over your chest protectively. “Sure feels like it.”

The silence between you was unbearable. Bucky didn’t have a good excuse. You were right to be angry with him. He was abandoning you. He was a coward. He was running away from a painful situation to avoid facing it head on because he was terrified to lose you. Though, as you pressed the heels of your palms into your eyes, pulling them away a moment later to find a soft glisten of reflection in their wake, Bucky started to wonder that were already true.

“Oh God,” you exhaled, a heavy realization in your voice as you turned to him. Your shoulders slumped. “This is because of Munich, isn’t it?”

Bucky flinched. He tried not to, but you noticed. A look of absolute devastation crossed your features as your lips parted, sinking down onto your bed.

“I knew things were different after that mission. I mean, how could they not be?” You leaned over against your thighs, letting your hair fall down to shield your face where Bucky could not see. “I crossed a line. I shouldn’t have given in. You couldn’t consent with that shit running through your veins. Not really. So— fuck – I completely understand if you can’t be around me after I—”

“That’s not what happened,” Bucky interjected sharply, shaking himself from the fear coursing through him as he crossed the room to you. He knelt down beside your bed and waited patiently for you to lift your head and let the curtain of hall fall away from your face. “I could have fought it. It hurt like hell, but I would have survived it even if we… if we hadn’t…”

He let his voice trail off, his cheeks turning a slight side of pink. He sighed. “The point... is that I wanted to. I really wanted to. And that’s the problem.”

You narrowed your eyes, confused.

Was he really going to tell you? Wasn’t this what he had been trying to avoid? Throwing away years of friendship to confess deeper feelings he was all but sure you’d never reciprocate?

But there was something about the way you were looking at him. With tears glistening in your eyes and a grief he couldn’t quite place nestled into the lines on your forehead, Bucky began to wonder if walking away would give him any relief at all. He wasn’t sure he could ever leave this room again if you were left blaming yourself for his crimes.

Bucky slowly placed his right hand on your knee, rubbing his thumb gently along the dimple. Your eyes followed his movements, watching curiously until he found the courage to speak.

“We’ve been partners for a while,” he started, clearing his voice when it came out shaken. You nodded. “I feel like sometimes I know what you’re thinking just by looking at you and when we’re out in the field, even in the middle of chaos, it’s like you can tell what I’m doing before I actually figure it out myself. We’re really good together. Out there. It’s hard to find that these days.”

You didn’t say anything and for that, he was grateful. He needed to get this out before he shut down completely.

“I think we only got that good because we’re… uhm… we’re close, you know?” Bucky took a deep breath, releasing his grip on your knee when he realized he’d started to squeeze it a little too hard. Your hand was sitting on your thigh, but you’d inched it closer to his, enough so the tips of your fingers overlapped onto his.

“We’re friends.” Bucky paused at the term, deciding it wasn’t strong enough. “It’s more than that though. I trust you with things I wouldn’t even tell Steve. You were the first person I felt like I could be myself around. Not the Bucky that Steve remembers or the one Hydra manipulated. This one. Whatever that means.”

Your whole hand covered his now, as much as it would allow. He glanced up to find your fingers curling under his, a slight squeeze to tell him you were still listening. He exhaled another breath and the pressure in his chest felt a little lighter.

“What happened in Munich didn’t awaken anything or… or open my eyes to something I didn’t know was there,” Bucky continued, his eyes trained on your legs, unable to find the courage to face you. “I’ve known how I felt about you for a long time. I was okay with it. I learned to live with it and manage it because being your friend and being your partner was too important to lose. But…”

He felt your hands squeeze his again.

“But after Munich… I don’t know how to go back. I don’t think I can.” Bucky didn’t dare to meet your eye. He could feel the words slipping past his lips before he had a chance to pull them back in. A waterfall of confessions he couldn’t hope to control. “It’s why I’ve been so reckless in the field, why I keep ending up in the med wing. I can’t shove it down anymore and it punctures me right through the goddamn heart when I see you surrounded by armed agents or when there’s a weapon aimed at you and my instinct is to run towards you. Screw what happens to me.

“I know you’re good at your job,” Bucky stressed, shaking his head. “I know you can handle yourself and you don’t need me to protect you but… but I want to. I want to keep you safe and hold your hand when you’re getting stitches and curl up beside you at night just so I can remind myself you’re real when the nightmares get the better of me. I want… I want more than I should.”

He could hear the skip in your heartbeat, how it gradually picked up in pace the longer he spoke. Your breathing was shorter, too. Shallower. Bucky was certain it was all confirmation of the story he’d been telling himself for years.

“This… How I feel… It’s not good for us. As friends. As partners. I’m trying to do us a favor and just remove myself from the equation.”

Bucky still had yet to meet your eye. He’d turned to examining every detail he could find on the fabric of your sleep shorts, in the sheets you sat upon, in the divots and dimples and blemishes on your thighs. He wasn’t sure he’d have the resolve to leave if he looked at your face.

Several beats of silence passed by and Bucky wondered how it was possible you hadn’t lashed out at him yet. He expected you to be angry for driving a wedge between you with something as reckless as love and affection. He expected you to turn your shoulder, reject him for everything he was, because it was one thing to befriend the Winter Soldier, another entirely to love him.

Bucky slowly rose back to his feet, letting his hand slip away from your knee and your gentle hold on him fell away. He mistook your silence for acceptance, maybe even agreement. He cleared his throat, starting to back up towards the door.

“So, um,” Bucky said nervously, trying to fill the silence in his escape, “that’s why. I hope you can forgive me some day for all of this. I’ll, uh, I’ll go.”

Bucky barely had his hand on the knob when he heard the soft squeak of your mattress springs as you rose to your feet.

“You’re wrong.”

The sound of your voice startled him, enough to get him to look back at you before he could stop himself. Your hands were clenched at your sides, eyes red with tears, bottom lip chewed raw.

“Y/n, I—”

“You’re wrong,” you said again, almost angry and somehow that was a relief. It would make it easier for him to leave if you were angry, but you had different plans. “You’re wrong if you think you’re doing me some kind of favor by leaving.”

Tears were on your cheeks now and Bucky’s stomach lurched. This wasn’t what he wanted. This was agony.

He took a step closer to you. “You have to trust me, it’s not a good idea for us to—”

“You’re wrong,” you continued, cutting him off again as you rubbed at the tears under your eyes. “You’re wrong to assume that I don’t feel the exact fucking way about you and—and if you leave, Bucky, I swear to God it will kill me.”

Bucky froze. His heart stopped beating completely, might have plunged down through his stomach, broken through the floorboards and buried itself into molten lava and dirt, because of all the things he was expecting you to say, that was not one of them.

“Don’t do this,” you implored, voice a little broken, barely above a whisper. “Please don’t go.”

Bucky was at a loss. He didn’t know what to say. He hadn’t prepared for this. He never even considered you might beg him to stay, that you might feel for him in the way he felt for you. It never once crossed his mind. It felt like a dream.

“I miss you.” Your voice was so small and still, it nearly tore him straight in half. “I miss how we used to be. I miss seeing you smile and your stupid jokes at the most inappropriate times in the field.” You laughed to yourself, under your breath, and even through the tears it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever heard. But you sighed, the smile falling away. “I miss you when you’re not here. All the time. So much it hurts. I feel like I’m going out of my mind when I’m not with you. You’re my best friend, but I… I also… I miss Munich.”

Bucky’s eyes widened and you only caught a glimpse of him for a second before your face was in your hands, trying to shield yourself from him.

“I know it’s wrong,” you murmured, muffled by your palms. “I know it’s not right to miss a moment when you were in pain and made to feel something you didn’t ask for, but… I think about it a lot and... how much I want more.”

Stunned silence. Throat dry. Heart pounding.

“What are you saying?” Bucky finally found the courage to ask.

You lifted your head, finally meeting his eye and there was a relief there as you looked up at him. Your shoulders eased. A soft smile returned to your lips and it nearly melted him completely.

“The same thing you are, I think.”

He swallowed. “Oh.”

Bucky watched, near frozen, as you crossed the room, bare feet padding softly over the carpet until you were only inches from him. The space between you closing as your hands slid up his arms, resting against his shoulders, cupping at the sides of his face, just observing, just feeling. There was no venom in his veins and yet, Bucky felt electrified under your touch. His heart stammered in his chest as your fingers wove at the strands of hair at the base of his neck.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” you told him and he wondered for a moment if he stopped breathing entirely. "No Hydra chemicals. No foreign influence. Just us, okay? You and me.”

Bucky nodded, a little stunned.

Slowly, you inched up closer to him, your eyes drawing closed until you were a breath from his lips. Just barely grazing upon his own, waiting, and Bucky let his hands slid up against your back, tugging you closed against him, and captured your lips in his own.

It was different than the first time in Munich, less rushed, less desperate, but instead filled with a longing that had spanned years between you, coated in affection and heartache and need for one another beyond anything a serum in a lab could fabricate.

Your hands wove into his hair, his arms pressing you firm against his chest, and it was like you were holding onto him for dear life. Your feet began to carry the two of you backwards, dragging Bucky towards the bed, and you yelped as your knees caught on the edge of the mattress, sending the two of you spiraling onto the bed.

“You alright?” Bucky laughed, brushing away the hair in your eyes as he propped himself up on his elbows caged around your shoulders; most of his weight laying upon you in the sweetest comfort of pressure.

“I'm perfect,” you replied, bright smiles and joy radiating from every pore. It was contagious.

“We can stop here, if you want,” Bucky offered sincerely. He was riding a high he never thought he’d ever experience and anything you’d be willing to share with him was a gift within itself. He’d kiss you for hours if you’d let him.

“And if I don’t want to stop?” you questioned, staring up at him with a hunger in your eyes. Your fingers trailed down his t-shirt, dancing around the hem of the fabric at his hips. “If I wanted to keep going... If I wanted you...?”

“I’m yours, sweetheart.”

A simple answer. A true one. He’d never been more certain of anything in his life.

Bucky knelt back, tugged on the fabric of his shirt between his shoulder blades and pulled it over his head. You watching him as he tossed it to the corner of the room before he settled back down against you. Your hands ran along the lines of his muscles, over the scars and imperfections, and for once, Bucky didn’t shy away from the hands of a woman. It didn’t feel like a twist to his gut, he didn’t hold his breath. No – instead, it felt renewing, healing almost.

His hands slid under the waist of your shirt, inching it higher as he rand his touch along the curves of your sides, until you leaned up for him to help remove the fabric. It joined his shirt at the edge of the room.

Perfect and bare. Stunning in your nakedness. A privilege he never thought he’d be granted.

“You want to take a picture or...?” you teased him, noticing how long he’d been staring at you.

Bucky laughed, shaking his head. “Don’t temp me. Besides, I’m hoping I won’t need a picture to see you like this again.”

“Definitely not,” you confirmed, tugging him down to meet your lips again.

It was laced in smiled and laughter and ages of holding back from one another all rolled into one. A freedom of taking your time, of enjoying one another, and learning to memorize your bodies. Bucky would have wondered if he were dreaming if not for the way you wrapped your legs around his waist, grinding against his hardening cock – no dream could produce a feeling like that.

With his lips on your neck, Bucky played with the hem of your shorts, waiting until you lifted your hips just enough to give him the access to slid them down your legs, removing the last remaining fabric along with it.

Bucky kissed his way down your body, mapping a trail from your neck, to the hills of your breasts, to your ribs, to the comfort of cushion at your stomach, to the crevices at your legs and inner thighs. He paused for a moment, setting his cheek against your thigh as he drew his fingers between your lips, separating them to give access to the sweetest parts of you.

You flinched a little as he touched your clit, a gasp emitting from your lips as your hands curled into the sheets. Bucky grinned, encouraged by your reaction as he began to circle the pads of his fingers at your entrance. Listening for the subtle changes in your breath, the moans the slipped past, and the curl of your fingers, Bucky leaned in and wrapped his lips around your clit.

“F-fuck, Bucky,” you whined, hands snaking into his hair and gripping tight against his scalp.

He smiled at the feeling, at the way you cried his name, and he pressed his slicked fingers inside of you. Perhaps it was the haze of the foreign chemicals the last time he had you under him like this, but he didn’t remember you being so vocal, so sensitive to his touch. It was a rush and he had to keep himself from rutted up against the mattress as added a third finger, curling them just enough and massaging at the walls as they squeezed tight around him.

Tongue lapping at the wetness, sucking around the sensitive bud of nerves, fingers perfectly drawing out the high as it built at your core, it only took moments before you crashed. You cried out his name, legs wrestling against him in the sensitivity as he drew out the feeling as long as he could, moving slower and slower until you stilled under him.

“Fuck,” you exhaled, a laugh entranced in your voice.

Bucky grinned, pleased with himself as he crawled his way back up the bed to meet your lips. He didn’t bother to wipe the remnants of your high from his mouth and you didn’t seem to mind as you kissed him, certainly tasting yourself upon his lips, and it only made him want you more.

“You’re turn,” you smirked, trying to slide out from under him as you licked your lips, but Bucky held you down.

“Next time, okay?” he countered and you sunk back into the mattress with a pout on your lips. “I don’t think I can last if you get your mouth on me.”

“Is that such a bad thing?” you teased, running your fingers down his stomach until he began to shiver.

“Yes,” he chuckled, swatting your hands away playfully. He winked. “I’m gonna die if I don’t have you right now.”

“Jesus, Buck, don’t even joke,” you laughed, hiding your face in your hands.

“Hey, someone's gotta,” Bucky grinned as he tugged down his pants, kicking them off to land amongst the rest of the discarded clothing. “If it got me here, I’ll happily make light of a fucked up Hydra breeding experiment.”

“Would you have told me if it hadn’t happened?” you asked, voice a little softer, peering out from behind your hands.

Bucky stilled, his grin falling into something gentler and he shrugged. “Don’t know if I ever would have had the courage. I never thought we’d be here. Never could have imagined you’d feel the same way.” He leaned down to press a kiss to your shoulder. “Would you have said anything?”

“I don’t think I really knew until you threatened to walk away,” you admitted.

“Well,” Bucky sighed, pressing a trail of kissed along your collarbone as he settled between your legs, his length pressing against your thigh, “good thing I’m not going anywhere.”

“Better not,” you murmured against his lips as you drew his mouth to yours.

Then, as he felt the hitch of your breath against his lips, he sank into you. Stretching walls and guiding your legs to wrap at his waist to offer an angle that left your jaw slacked. Your eyes fluttered closed, lips parted, and Bucky felt a rush unlike anything he’d ever experienced. Even through the smoke filled haze of that serum in Munich, he’d never felt an ounce of the relief as he did in this moment. To be completely and entirely yours.

He felt you squeeze at his shoulders, urging him to move, and slowly, he rocked his hips against you. Slow and steady. Needy. Until your nails dug into his spine and Bucky couldn’t prolong the tender build up any longer.

Chasing and chasing; higher and higher. Bucky could tell you were close from how tight your walls were clenched around him. It took near everything he had not to come on the spot, but he held on, waiting, watching as your lips parted, as the most beautiful sounds he’d ever heard slipped past, and you cried out his name.

“Oh fuck—fuck—Bucky, don’t stop.” Your breath was hot against his cheek. “I’m so close. I’m—ah—”

A hitch in your breath and your whole body seemed to fall slack. It only spurred him on. Hips snapped, fingers rubbing quick circles at your clit, until you were whining and shaking under him, until he was satisfied with the blissful look on your face and he let himself go.

He spilled into you, rutting his hips in a few final, lazy thrusts as he sank into the crook of your neck, panting. Dizzy and content, riding a high that extended beyond his body, Bucky hummed into your collarbone as he felt your nails draw patterns along his back in gentle sweeps. It tingled on his skin, send shivers along his spine, and he never wanted it to stop.

“Hey, Y/n?”

You paused, just for a moment, before you resumed tracing the lines on his back, over muscles and scars alike. “Yes, Bucky?”

He could hear the teasing in your voice, the light-hearted laugh, the warmth that made him fall in love with you and his heart clenched. He wrapped his arms under your shoulders, the full weight of his body still pressing you down to the mattress, still buried inside of you.

“Promise me this is real.” An embarrassment crept up as he said it, though the drawing on his back didn’t skip a beat. “You and me. I’m not dreaming or stuck in my head. This is real, right?”

Your hands slid up along his shoulders to his neck, and then to the sides of his face as you guided him off your chest to meet your eye; more beautiful than he’d ever seen you, with a glimmer of sweat and an afterglow radiating in the smile lifting your cheeks.

“This is real, honey,” you told him, leaning in to kiss him sweetly on the lips.

“Okay. Okay, good.” Bucky grinned, cheeks flushed in heat. He settled back against your chest, resting his cheek to your heart as you resumed drawing the lazy patterns on his back.

Perfectly content.

Warm. Safe.

Home.

---

Thank you so much for reading! ❤️ If you enjoyed this fic, please consider supporting me at my ko-fi account ✨

[bb-8]

Tech Savvy

Pairing: Tech x female reader Summary:  You’re an ex-imperial who has a crush on Tech. He’s awkward about it. Until he’s not. Rating: Explicit (18+, minors DNI) Warnings/tags: crack treated seriously, smut, unprotected PIV, awkward flirting, oral sex, first kisses, accidental exhibitionism, lots of bad jokes, slight angst Word count: 5.4K Notes: It’s smutty crack treated seriously, guys. Read on AO3.

The planet you land on isn’t anything special. It’s a humid swamp world in the Outer Rim that offers enough seclusion for even the Empire’s Most Wanted to pass by unnoticed.

You, being the kind and selfless individual you are, decide to help with repairs while Clone Force 99 are on a supply run. It’s the first time the ship has made planet fall in weeks and everyone is a bit stir-crazy, jumping at the chance to stretch their legs. Prolonged time spent in hyperspace has that effect.

Before he left, you told Hunter that your status as an ex-Imperial put an unnecessary target on their back. You’re still wearing your Imperial uniform, after all, and you know for a fact that the Empire is not exactly merciful to deserters. Especially deserters that committed high treason. Like aiding Clone Force 99’s escape from an Imperial prison.

You definitely didn’t just jump at the chance to stay behind because Tech opted to. That would be ridiculous.

You feel your face heat at the thought.

(What? His goggles are cute.)

The truth is, there’s been something – a tension, as it were – between the two of you since you arrived on board. You know it, he knows it. You’ve been orbiting around each other for some weeks now, and this is the first time you’ve been alone –

“Can you spare a minute?” Tech calls out, pulling you away from your thoughts. You swivel in your chair and shift your attention to him, a bit surprised.

“I was beginning to think you didn’t realise I was on board,” you reply as you make your way to the cockpit where Tech is currently fiddling with some wires.

“You’re...very hard to miss,” Tech replies and your heart skips a beat. “The ship is far too small to miss another sentient being’s presence.”

“Right,” you mutter while taking a seat, trying not to sound too deflated. So maybe he didn’t feel that tension. “What do you need help with?”

“I am taking this opportunity to rewrite the ship’s central comm unit to be more covert when passing through areas with increased Imperial traffic. If I can update the ship’s communication infrastructure to resemble that of a first generation Imperial craft, then we will considerably reduce our chances of being identified. Which is why I am particularly glad you stayed behind today. Considering your, er, history.” He fiddles with a mess of wires in front of him, not once looking up.

“And here I was thinking you wanted me around because you enjoyed my company,” you playfully jab.

“There’s that, too,” Tech replies. “Though it would be advantageous if you could list all of the Imperial access codes you can remember. The computer and I can do some pattern recognition to better–,” he cut himself off and anxiously rubbed the back of his neck. “Apologies, you don’t need a long-winded explanation. If you’re happy to share, you can do so whenever you’re ready.”

You consider protesting and telling him that you find his rambling cute, but you decide not to dwell on it for his sake. You list the codes you remember from the Academy. You keep talking, relaying any tangential intel relating to access codes. If it’s irrelevant, Tech doesn’t stop you.

He is silent for a few moments analysing the data you’ve given him. You watch him closely, admiring the way his brow furrows and his lips purse while he’s concentrating.

“You trust me then?” you venture to say. You play with your hands in your lap. “Even though I was with the Empire?”

“You’re helping us now,” Tech replies, as if it’s obvious. He is still inputting data into the datapad he is holding when he continues, “You trust us, it would seem. And we were soldiers programmed upon our creation to destroy the Republic.”

You fumble over your next words.

“That’s – it’s entirely different.”

“And from my perspective, all that matters is where you are now,” he states with finality.

“Well,” you say shyly, “I like where I am.”

Tech smirks despite himself, briefly glancing up at you from his datapad.

You hold his gaze for a moment, before settling into a comfortable silence. You sit in next to him for several minutes, revelling in his closeness like a brezak basking under the Zygerrian sun. It’s only when you notice yourself blushing like a teenager that you decide to make yourself useful and actually help with repairs like you promised.

++++++++++++++++++++

“Would you mind holding this wire out of the way for me while I solder the capacitors for the localised memory bank?” Tech calls, breaking your concentration. The illumination device you were repairing could wait.

You have no idea what Tech means, if his string of words means anything, and you survey his makeshift workbench for a hint. Several panels are detached, limply dangling from a few brightly coloured wires. Tech is focusing his attention on a large panel that is plugged into a cylindrical storage device.

“Maker, that’s a big data stick,” you can’t help but mutter.

Tech makes an incoherent choking sound.

You do as requested and lean over his shoulder to take hold of the wire he specified between your thumb and forefinger. The fabric of your sleeves brushes against his shoulder armour and it feels as though there is a static shift in the air, like the air around you is alive and humming.

And Tech gulps with the contact. He types a few sets of numbers into his datapad with excess force, seriously testing the build quality of the device. His posture is especially rigid as focuses on testing the wires currently in his lap.

Your pulse is racing. It’s as if each second that passes without a confession threatens to rip apart the very fabric of reality.

“Tech?” He has to feel this too, right? “Why...why did you stay behind today?” you ask, careful to keep your voice even. You need him to say it, admit that he feels it, too. You’re desperate for it.

“You can let go now,” he replied, pointedly ignoring your question.

You let go of the wire, but make no move to step away from him. You’re acutely aware of yourself right now and suddenly self-conscious: about the deep shade of crimson enveloping your face, the way you’re breathing, the clamminess you can feel on your palms. You hope you smell alright and silently pray that any traces of caf on your breath are long gone.

Several seconds pass before Tech looks up, over his shoulder at you. His face briefly flickers with concern.

“Your flushed features and increased heart rate indicates that you are nervous,” he remarks.

Maker, is it that obvious, you cringe.

Your mouth is dry and you contemplate making an excuse, but your brain does not want to cooperate.

“Sometimes I –,” you begin. Void, here I go. “Sometimes I get nervous around you,” you admit, attempting to make your confession sound as casual as possible. You bite your bottom lip in a way that you hope will be interpreted as sensual, or, at the very least, cute.

And Tech? Tech is flustered. Like visibly shaken, blushing furiously, two-steps-away-from-hyperventilating, kind of flustered.

“Please do not be nervous,” he responds tightly. Each word is taking considerable effort to be spoken. “I already told you: we trust you. I am not a threat to you.”

The poor guy. There’s no way he can really be misinterpreting that –.

“No, no, it’s a good kind of nervous,” you attempt to clarify.

“Nervousness is not conducive to high quality work,” Tech chokes out.

“No, I mean like giddy. I feel giddy around you.”

Come on, Tech.

“Would you like a chair–.”

“Stars, Tech, I like you!”

Tech...errors. He attempts to start several sentences with no success before mumbling an excuse that he has to go, “fix the reverse polarity capacitive inductor,” which, to your knowledge, is definitely not a real thing.

So maybe that could have gone better. All things considered, he did seem affected by your admission. On the other hand, he also left the room entirely.

Your face burns with embarrassment and, hey, maybe this backwater planet could make a decent home. Maybe the swamp water would be safe for consumption and you could spend the rest of your days foraging for swamp... berries. Sure, it might be a little uncomfortable, but no less uncomfortable than staying here for one more second.

And this is why you don’t admit your feelings to anyone. Ever.

Ugh. You were so confident, too. You squeeze your eyes shut, willing yourself to transport to another star system.

The door to the ‘fresher shuts, followed by a slight scuffle of feet, and a thunk that sounds decidedly like a head hitting the door.

You briefly consider leaving the ship to attempt to meet up with the rest of the Bad Batch. It’s been far too long since you’ve breathed fresh, clean, air and you feel a second wave of self-pity wash over you as you contemplate the thought of breathing in the smell of Wrecker’s feet for several more weeks in the Marauder’s circulated air. They hadn’t been gone longer than a standard hour and there was a clear path to get into town. You could still salvage the day, you could still stretch your legs–

‘Oh you want to know why I suddenly decided to join you, Hunter, after promising I’d help fix the ship? Funny story, I was trying to seduce your brother and he rejected me!’

You physically cringe at that. On second thought, maybe just pretending this didn’t happen would be the easier option. Lesser of two evils and all that.

Well, you’ve endured worse situations than this. Swamp berries, if they exist, probably won’t offer enough sustenance anyway, you conclude. You turn your attention to fixing several access panels that require little to no attention.

++++++++++++++++++++

It takes a long while for Tech to exit the ‘fresher. The door opens with a hiss and you stiffen, not looking up until he briskly walks past you and resumes his makeshift work station in the cockpit. Once he is seated and his back is facing you and you can hear the rhythmic tapping of his fingers on his datapad, you allow your entire body to relax.

You look back down to your newest project: fixing the swivel action on a chair. You’re not entirely sure if the chair needed to swivel, or whether it was supposed to, but it does now. At least Omega would have fun with that.

“Can you spare another minute?” Tech says after a considerable stretch of silence.

His comment catches you off-guard. It’s fine, it’s fine, you are just going to pretend like nothing happened. You can just carry on helping with actual repairs like you promised.

“I’m coming,” you say, while putting your entire weight into tightening a screw.

Tech coughs slightly.

“The, uh, I need your help with the cum system. The comm system!” he stutters.

Your eyes widen and decide it’s best not to comment, furiously thinking about the fact that Tech rarely makes mistakes. You wipe your hands on your trousers and stride over to the cockpit where Tech is fiddling with some wires on his lap.

“Take these,” he says while coiling a piece of wire to make a conductor. He pushes right through the awkwardness and places a handful of resistors in your outstretched hand.

You stand there in silence for several moments before you drum your fingers on the back of his chair. He makes no move to immediately utilise the resistors, so you resign yourself to stand there and watch him work. (You suppress a sigh – you wish you weren’t attracted to him at this moment, but here you are, drawn in by his confidence and fixated on watching his nimble fingers work their magic.)

Normally, you’d have already lost your patience. But not now, not when you are trying to decipher just what exactly Tech was trying to accomplish by calling you over and ignoring you. And that’s when you realise that Tech either forgot you were there or forgot to give you whichever menial task he originally intended.

But there’s absolutely no chance that Tech makes two mistakes within the same standard year, never mind two mistakes within the same afternoon.

You start to wonder if he even has any use for the resistors. Your knowledge of technology is limited, but you really don’t see how they’d be useful with his current task. Maybe this is Tech’s uncharacteristically inefficient way to try to initiate conversation. You really hope you’re not completely misreading the situation, but it’s not like you have any pride left to lose.

“Why did you stay behind today, Tech?” you ask quietly, voice tinged with apprehension and perhaps an unmistakable eagerness. You phrase it more like a statement than a question this time.

He continues to fidget, his leg bouncing anxiously as he works.

“I did some research,” he blurts. “Regarding intimacy between human males and human females.”

Huh.

“I read the specifics on how to kiss,” he continues, “but I fear that I am a bit out of my depth as to how I am supposed to initiate it.” He is still fussing with the wires in his lap, not quite able to look up at you.

“You...want to kiss?” you surmise, your heart thumping wildly in your chest. “Me?”

“Very much so.”

A grin breaks across your face and the sharp sting of Tech’s previous rejection immediately melts away. You deposit the handful of resistors in a tray containing various tools Tech had been using throughout the day before taking a tentative step forward from behind the chair. He cranes his neck to look at you, an unfamiliar expression that you’re not quite able to decipher written across his face.

You reach your hand out to caress his cheek, and sliding your hand down to his chin to guide it upwards as you bend down to bring your lips to his. The kiss is chaste, at first, but Tech proves himself a quick study as slightly parts his lips to deepen the kiss. His goggles nudge against your face and you’re pretty sure you’re leaving a greasy cheek print on one of them.

You pull away to gauge his reaction.

“Was that... satisfactory?” he asks, seemingly dazed. His eyes are hooded and still focused on your lips.

“It was perfect.” You offer a small smile.

He removes the goggles to clean one side of them with a nearby cloth. So you were leaving a cheek print. Once his goggles are back in place, he’s looking at you like he can’t quite believe you’re real, his golden brown eyes blinking owlishly at you.

“I apologise for leaving you earlier. I did not anticipate you returning my affections – it did not seem probable. And I was, regrettably, not prepared,” he mumbles.

“Probable?” It’s your turn to malfunction. You want to usher a thousand reassurances at once.

“Well, no.” Tech shifts his weight uncomfortably, not quite able to meet your eyes. “Hunter or Crosshair usually are the ones who capture the affections of –,”

“I like your goggles,” you interrupt in a rush before you surge forward to press your lips against his, hoping to convey just how much you return his affections. It’s a messy, urgent kiss that Tech returns with equal fervour. His fingers find their way into your hair, pulling you closer.

When you finally break the kiss, you straighten your back and take both of his hands in yours and take small, hesitant steps backwards, encouraging Tech to stand. As he does, the project he is working on slides off of his lap and clatters to the floor. He pays it no attention as he closes the distance between you, his eyes darkened with lust. He kisses you with renewed purpose as his hands wrap around your waist, roaming across your body, before they settle firmly on your ass.

Your hips grind into his codpiece and Tech lets out a low groan that goes straight to your core. He moves to kiss the curve of your neck, sucking at the delicate skin and making you squirm. The dampness between your legs becomes apparent and you press yourself closer to him, desperate for friction where you need it the most. As if he can read your mind, he trails a hand from your ass and places it between your legs, grazing over your clit before cupping your cunt. You involuntarily rock into his hand and moan into his mouth, hardly recognising the sounds you’re making.

Tech’s hand abruptly stills as he draws back to meet your eyes. His expression mirrors yours: searching wide eyes filled with longing, a silent acknowledgement passes between you as you reach the point of no return.

And in that moment you are struck with the urge to want nothing more than his cock in your mouth.

“Can I?” you blurt, glancing downward, hoping he is able to intuit exactly what you are suggesting in that moment.

“You may.” You allow the grammatical correction to slip by. “But I’ve never–,” he begins.

You don’t break eye contact and you begin to drop to your knees. He’s looking at you with his eyes wide, mouth slack. Tech’s bulged codpiece is mere inches from your face, and it’s in that moment that you realise that you have no idea how to undress this man.

And this, this is when you start to worry.

Does it have a latch? Does it even come off?

Your eyes dart from left to right looking for some sort of hint as to how it could be removed. You’re half tempted to just plant a smooch on the armour or the kiss inside of his thigh and pretend that all of this was intentional.

“I can get that,” Tech helpfully chimes in, blessedly oblivious to your internal struggle. He removes the pelvic plate with ease and, to your relief, you can see the shape of his erection straining under a layer of thick black fabric. Black fabric that conforms to his body shape exceedingly well. You reach out to feel his length, gently cupping his balls through the fabric before applying more pressure as you palm his shaft. He soft groan escapes his lips.

It catches you a little off guard, actually, to see him so hard. Knowing he’s been hard underneath his armour this entire time. Wondering when else he’s been hard and you had been none the wiser.

His cock has an attractive silhouette – it’s thicker than you expected and you can feel the patch of pre-cum that dampens the black fabric near his tip. You reach for his waistband and pull it down before slowly wrapping a hand around his shaft. He hisses with the contact and brings a white-knuckled fist to his lips.

You peer up at him through your lashes and you lick your lips, preparing to tease him a bit before taking him as deep as you can manage.

And that’s when something inside Tech snaps.

He looks down at you with wild eyes and places his hand on the back of your head to guide your mouth to his cock, apparently unable to continue the role of a passive observer for any longer. Clearly intent at putting his newfound research to good use. You lick a wet stripe from the base to the tip, before taking him in your mouth, the pre-cum tangy on your tongue. His grip tightens on your hair the same time he tilts his hips forward to push his cock further and you hollow your cheeks, sucking hard enough to make Tech groan and his knees buckle. He braces himself against the back of the pilot’s chair, captivated at the sight your mouth stretched around his length.

You begin to bob your head in a steady rhythm, taking him as deep as you’re able. You drag your tongue and press it flush on the underside of his cock, looking up at Tech with wide doe eyes, batting your eyelashes prettily as he struggles to maintain composure. You continue your pace until sweat starts to bead at his temple and his breathing becomes less controlled.

Patience isn’t your strong point and you’re too pent up not to touch yourself. You bring your free hand down your trousers, between your thighs, running your fingers through your wet folds and hum at the sensation. Tech’s hips stutter with the vibrations and his face contorts in what looks like a pained grimace. He takes a miniature step back and your lips leave his cock with a pop. He’s breathing heavily now and his weeping cock is painfully hard, his balls tight.

“I don’t want to finish in your mouth, mesh’la,” he pants, voice low.

You nod dumbly, currently unable to form a coherent thought or tear your eyes away from his erect length, only inches away from your face.

Tech takes hold of both of your forearms, helping you get to your feet, before wrapping his hands around your thighs, picking you up with surprising ease. You lock your thighs around his torso as he strides over to press you against one of the auxiliary control panels adjacent to the co-pilot’s chair in the cockpit. The incline on the panel is steep and the pressure of his hips against yours is the only thing keeping you from sliding down.

“Let me taste you,” Tech groans against your ear.

You let out a frustrated whine and desperately move to unclasp your trousers as Tech works to open your shirt. You shudder once the cool air hits your sweat-dampened skin and Tech messily palms your exposed breast while nipping at your neck. He helps you shimmy out of your clothing while holding you in firmly place before discarding them on the floor of he Marauder.

And this is how you find yourself spread eagle on the Marauder's control panel in possibly the most undignified position you’ve ever been in.

He goes to remove his goggles and you stop him.

“If they’re not uncomfortable for you, I’d like for you to leave them on.” He quirks a brow at you, quizzical. “What? I told you that they’re cute.”

His face evolves from sceptical to bashful in a few moments.

“Very well, then. I can leave them on.”

Tech moves his hands under your thighs as he lowers himself, draping your legs across each of his shoulders with surprising gentleness for a man who looks like he is ready to devour you. Once he’s on his knees and comfortably supporting your weight, keeping you pressed against the console, he places an open-mouthed kiss on the inside of your thigh.

“A-are you okay with this?” you manage to stutter out. It’s not like you haven’t pictured his head between your thighs before, but something about his head actually being between your thighs fills you with a nervousness you hadn’t anticipated.

He mumbles his assurances against your clit. He begins with slow, languid licks and you suck in a sharp breath as you feel yourself craving more and have to stop yourself from violently bucking your hips up.

Okay, so he’s actually really good at this. You know you really shouldn’t be that surprised, Tech is nothing if not thorough with his research and it’s, er, practical applications. Any thoughts of humour at Tech’s expense are, however, ripped from your mind when he sinks a single finger inside your cunt. His finger curls with a precision that only Tech could manage and you moan in encouragement as he pumps it in and out.

You squirm when he hits the spot that makes you want to beg for more and you feel your bare ass hit a button on the console. The next thing you hear is a soft swish swish sound of the Marauder's screen wipers that you inadvertently turned on. Mercifully, it doesn’t break Tech’s concentration and his hands continue to grip your hips, holding your cunt to his face.

“Don’t stop, don’t stop, please don’t stop,” you chant. You writhe again and another button sounds its activation. Nothing immediately makes itself known. You hope it’s not something like a proton torpedo firing into the swampy area the Marauder landed in. Not because there’s anything nearby, but because you’ll die if Tech stops here.

He moans into your core as he brings a hand down to grip his leaking cock, desperate for some friction.

“Kriff,” you grunt at the sight of him fucking his fist, only to hear Tech utter the same exclamation at the same time.

“Is there an echo in here or something?” You smile at him, offering a half-laugh before your face contorts with pleasure once again and you hiss through your teeth.

“Yes?” a new, tinny voice chimes in on the overhead speaker system. “This is Echo... You’ve, uh, turned on the short range comm system.”

You knew Tech was a good soldier, but the reflexes in which he slammed the short range comm transmitter with his free hand surprised you. He didn’t move himself from between your thighs and skilfully cut off the transmission while continuing to work your clit with his tongue and your cunt with his finger.

Before you could die from embarrassment and wonder just how much Echo and the rest of the Batch heard, Tech adds another finger and your entire body jerks and tenses.

“I’ve – ah, right there – Maker, that feels good. I’ve never been with anyone who is patient enough to let me come,” you manage to say through gritted teeth.

“My research indicated that it can take around 20 standard minutes for women to orgasm if properly relaxed, why would others stop prematurely?” Tech replies, only briefly removing his mouth from your cunt to reply.

“Selfishness?” you guess.

Tech seemed to take your admission (and ability to form sentences) personally, clearly intent on rendering you incapacitated. He returns to his attention to your clit and maintains his rhythm, teasing a third finger near your entrance. You whine at the sensation and move to hold Tech’s head in place, because if he stops now, there’s no way you’ll ever forgive him. The pressure that’s been mounting in your core finally, finally peaks and your entire body tenses as you surrender to your climax.

“Tech,” you whine, unable to formulate thoughts, let alone words.

He assures you with a soft groan and tightens his grip on your hip. He can feel your walls clenching around his fingers as he guides you through your climax.

As you come down from your orgasm, you feel like you’ve spent a year in bacta. You can’t move. Honestly, your bones are like Andorian jelly. The feeling is only temporary, however, as you’re overcome with the desire – no, need – to be filled.

“In me,” you urge. “Now.”

He adjusts his goggles and looks at you, spread out, completely ready for him.

“Lie back then.”

Tech settles between your thighs and nudges his cock head against your entrance. He takes a breath to steady himself, rubbing his length through your folds, covering it in your arousal.

“So wet and ready for me, mesh’la.”

Your hands wildly grasp at his chest plate, fingernails scratching along the plastoid, desperate to hold onto anything to anchor you. You meet his mouth with a graceless kiss, before he finally sinks into you.

“You’re tight,” he grits out.

He waits a few moments letting you adjust to his size before he begins to move. He restrains himself, slowly rolling his hips as your cunt stretches around his length.

“More,” you plead, breathlessly. “Please.”

Your encouragement is all he needs before he snaps his hips against yours, setting an unrelenting rhythm. He rocks into you harder with each thrust of his hips, his plastoid leg places slapping your skin.

“You feel so good, cyar'ika,” he pants. You surge upwards to greet his lips with a messy kiss, which only spurs him on to fuck you faster. “You’re, ah, taking me so well.”

“Fuck –,” you whine.

His grip tightens and his whole body starts to tense – he’s dangerously close to coming undone. And that’s when you notice his pace start to slow, his movements clearly distracted.

“Tech?” you mumble. You focus your eyes on his face and he looks dazed, you can practically hear him thinking. You’re about to ask him what’s wrong, but he doesn’t give you any time to panic.

“Elevate your hips by seven to ten degrees,” he states through heavy breaths.

“What?” Definitely not what you were expecting him to say.

Tech seems unfazed by your apparent annoyance. He wordlessly repositions himself, grabbing both of your hips and raising them slightly, holding your body up so it’s just the sharp incline of the console and Tech’s hands keeping you in place.

He began thrusting in earnest again, his eyes screwing shut in pleasure. And, Maker, he was right. The new angle hits a spot that makes your toes curl and you lose the ability to speak almost instantly and mewl helplessly as Tech fucks into you.

You made an undignified noise as you gripped his bicep, desperate to hold onto something, feeling the pressure mount in your core. With Tech’s hands busy holding you in place as he maintains a brutal pace, you bring a hand down to your clit, still wet with spit and your own essence. You barely have to touch yourself before you feel your body screaming for release.

“’M coming,” is all the warning you are able to give him before your cunt spasms around his twitching cock as your vision whites out. Tech grunts at the sensation, unable to hold his own climax off any longer.

“Where do you want me to –,” he grates out.

“Anywhere,” you cut him off, still feeling the aftershocks of your orgasm. “Just want to feel you.”

“Fuck, mesh’la, I’m going to come,” Tech groans, desperately chasing his release with harsh thrusts. His hips forcefully buck into you before his cock stiffens and he spills himself inside of you. He buries his face in your neck, slowly pumping you full of his cum, before he slumps against you. “Bid jate par me,” he mumbles into your neck, barely audible. “Gotal par me.”

You don’t know Mando’a, but whatever he is saying, the way he is saying it, sends a pleasant chill over your body.

You’re both still breathing heavily when Tech gingerly places you back down with a surprising gentleness for someone who had just been fucking you within an inch of your life. He’s in no rush to remove himself from you, but when his softened cock does slip out and his cum leaks out of you and onto the console, he helps you slide down. When your feet touch the floor, your legs wobble slightly and Tech has to grasp your forearms to steady you, softly chuckling at the state you’re in.

And when you look at him, he looks positively debauched. Sated, but debauched. You probably look worse.

In one swift motion he bends down, brings an arm down under your knees, and lifts you up. You wrap your arms around your neck while he carries you to his bunk. His cool armour against your overheated skin is a welcome sensation and you press yourself closer.

“Your research paid off,” you mumble into his chest as he sets you down on his bed.

“Please do not act so surprised by that.”

++++++++++++++++++++

You and Tech aren’t quite finished with the repairs by the time the Batch return hours later, long after the moons have risen and the bioluminescent plants surrounding the ship have begun to glow. If the squad notice you’re sitting a bit too close to Tech, your thigh pressing comfortably against his, they don’t say anything.

Neither of you were expecting to defile the Marauder all day and Tech was frantically fixing the lever on a storage hatch access panel, attempting to make up for lost time.

“Wrecker!” Echo shouts. “Clean up after yourself, for kriff’s sake.”

“Why?” Wrecker drawls, stomping towards the cockpit. “What did I do this time?”

“You’ve spilled your juice on the console again, all the keys are stuck in place.”

The access lever snaps clean off in Tech’s hands.

[flowercrown-bard]

I have a sentence for you...or a prompt. I don't know what I want you to do with it, but by god please do something:

"He doesn't have anxiety. He just has a god complex and no opposable thumbs!"

My darling nonny. First of all, what. Second of all, I love you and I love this prompt! I made the weirdest noise when I read it. I did not expect that second sentence XD

The thing is, I didn't know what I wanted to do with this prompt either...while being sober, so here's what my slightly tipsy brain came up with :D

word count: 2160

can be read platonic or romatic I think

content warnings: use of the name ‘Julian’ (not by Geralt), one very bad sexual innuendo (nothing sexual happens)

part 2

The spell hit Jaskier square in the chest, before Geralt had time to react and throw himself in front of him.

“Geralt?” Jaskier’s eyes went wide, though not in fear but in anticipation, as they snapped over to the witcher. “Geralt, what’s happening?”

Helplessly but not overly concerned, Geralt watched as Jaskier’s arms took on an unnatural position, bent at his sides. The bard’s head started to bob.

Geralt blinked at him and turned to the young sorcerer that looked curiously at Jaskier.

“Why aren’t you more worried?” The mage furrowed his brows. “Shouldn’t he be terrified?”

He turned to Geralt, who only shrugged.

“This happens regularly,” Geralt replied and his lips twitched up. “Last month, he’s been hit by a truth spell and the month before, he drank a potion that made him invisible to all but Roach.” His smile turned into a grin. “That was a very peaceful time.”

“Excuse me?” Jaskier squawked, his head still bobbing. “You missed me!”

“I didn’t. I could still hear you.” Geralt turned his attention back to the sorcerer who stared at them as if they were insane. “So, what exactly does this spell do?” Almost casually, Geralt’s hand wandered to the sword strapped to his back. “It better not be anything actually dangerous.”

Jaskier might have gotten cocky with how easily Geralt was able to break curses with all the experience he now had, but that didn’t mean Geralt wasn’t prepared to fight anyone who meant to cause Jaskier true harm. Even if Jaskier thought himself near invincible by now.

“No, no!” The mage held up his hands. “It’s not dangerous. I swear! It’s just supposed to…” he swallowed, his eyes darting between Jaskier and Geralt, clearly trying to figure out which one was more dangerous: The armed witcher or the bard who didn’t seem to be bothered in the least by being cursed but seemed rather giddy at the prospect of finding out what was going to happen next – after all, curses made for the most exciting songs, according to the bard. “It’s supposed to make his appearance match his character.”

Jaskier opened his mouth, probably to say something along the lines of ‘I already am as beautiful on the outside as I am on the inside’, but instead of words, a loud cock-a-doodle-doo left Jaskier’s lips. For a second, he looked terrified, before his expression morphed into one of fury and he let out a tirade of what was probably supposed to be insults.

Geralt exchanged a look with the mage, drawing up one eyebrow, when Jaskier continued to cluck.

“Ah, well, you see,” the mage turned bright red, “Marx was quite sure that he,” he glanced at Jaskier, who suddenly shrunk, his hair turning bright red and rising up and turning into a coxcomb, “was a coward and would turn into a chicken.”

Jaskier gave the mage one final indignant glare, probably cursing his rival’s name, before his mouth turned into a beak and his face was no longer that of a human, capable of expressing such emotions.

“Your employer was wrong,” Geralt deadpanned. “Jaskier is anything but a coward.” With the corners of his lips twitching and a glint in his eyes, he added, “But he definitely can be a cocky bastard.”

Jaskier, the cock, fluttered with his wings in indignation and let out another crow, looking up at Geralt. Though Jaskier could no longer speak or make facial expressions, Geralt knew exactly what the pleading look Jaskier sent him meant.

Geralt knew a hundred and one ways to break a curse. But more importantly, he knew Jaskier.

And so, Geralt knew exactly what Jaskier needed him to do.

--

It was ridiculously easy to break into Valdo Marx’ quarters at night, even while carrying a rooster that never stopped clucking and fluttering his wings excitedly in one arm. Jaskier could count himself lucky that he hadn’t turned into a peacock. It might have been more fitting, if Geralt had anything to say about it, but it would have definitely made scaling the building and squeezing through the window together, much harder.

Once inside the troubadour’s rooms, Geralt set Jaskier down gently.

“Do your worst,” he said with a grin and watched Jaskier ruffle his feathers in excitement, before he darted across the room, tearing at Valdo Marx’ notebooks with his beak, tearing at the decorative pillows on the armchair and plucking the strings of the lute standing against a wall harshly enough with his claws that they nearly snapped.

Geralt grimaced at the sound, but leaned back against a wall with his arms crossed in front of his chest, watching in amusement as his best friend wreaked as much havoc in his rival’s rooms as possible.

The noise must have roused Valdo Marx from his sleep, for a muffled curse came through the closed door, presumably leading to the troubadour’s bed room. The sound of Valdo Marx jumping out of his bed and hasting towards his now destroyed living room was interrupted by Jaskier, who crowed again and fluttered his wings in an attempt to make himself taller, preparing to make an impression when Valdo finally saw him.

The door was flung open and a dishevelled troubadour appeared, staring in horror at the mess that was his living space.

“What in the name of –“

His eyes fell on Jaskier first, then he saw the witcher still leaning against the wall, pointedly casual. Realisation dawned on Valdo’s face, followed briefly by a flash of triumph, that instantly turned into regret when Jaskier began hacking at the notebooks with more glee than before, preening under the horrified attention of his new audience.

“Witcher,” Valdo said breathlessly. “Put a stop to this, this instant!”

Geralt lifted a brow. “You got what you wanted, didn’t you?”

“Yes, yes, I proved Julian is a coward.” He waved his hands through the air, his voice turning shrill with every second that his panic grew. “I get to see him anxious and he’s reacting very poorly and I have to face the consequences. I get it. I shouldn’t have hired that mage. Is that what you want to hear?”

Geralt let out a low hum, drawing it out longer than necessary, simply because he knew how much Jaskier enjoyed witnessing Valdo’s growing despair.

“You’re right, you’re the one who has to face the consequences for cursing him.”

Relief flooded Valdo’s face. “Great. Now make him stop!”

Jaskier looked Valdo directly in the eyes as he fluttered onto the table and ruined the remaining notes the troubadour had carefully arranged in neat piles on his desk in the least dignified way a bird could ruin something. Though Jaskier’s voice was stolen from him, the mess he left on the notes couldn’t have been a more obvious statement: Valdo’s songs were shit.

The slighted troubadour’s face turned red with fury.

“How dare you!” Valdo took a step towards the destructive rooster but thought better of it almost immediately. He settled on pointing an accusatory finger at Jaskier instead of risking coming anywhere near him. “You’re a cad and a coward! I should have known how poorly you’d react to being cursed – becoming panicked and being unable to control yourself!”

Geralt tilted his head to the side. “See, that’s the thing,” he said slowly, his voice even enough that only Jaskier would be able to tell how much he enjoyed this as well, “That’s where you are wrong. Jaskier isn’t a coward. His fluttering around and destroying things right now? He’s not having anxiety. He just has a god complex and no opposable thumbs!" Geralt gave Valdo a shit-eating grin. “And he’s got a crow to pluck with you.”

“He-“ Valdo visibly had to restrain himself. “Help me, witcher. You can’t just let this monster destroy my property. He…he-!”

“You want me to get rid of a monster for you?”

Valdo nodded eagerly.

Geralt exchanged a look with Jaskier and shrugged.

“I don’t work for free.”

Valdo spluttered. “You can’t be serious.”

Geralt remained silent and Jaskier took a threatening step towards the open door to Valdo’s bedroom, obviously with the intent of destroying Valdo’s bed in any way he could think of. Panic flashed across Valdo’s face.

“I’ll pay you!” he shouted quickly. “I – I’ll write a sing about you. If you help me, I’ll sing about…” his eyes darted around the room, clearly struggling to come up with something on the spot. His gaze found Jaskier, before he grabbed Geralt’s arm, licking his lips nervously, or perhaps in an attempt to look seductive, “ – about how masterfully you handle cock.”

Jaskier froze and Geralt could see the moment when Valdo realised that he had said the wrong fucking thing.

If cocks could look murderous, Jaskier definitely did in this moment.

Geralt couldn’t tell if his rage came from the prospect of Valdo writing a song about this encounter and making a profit out of it, or if he was indignant because Jaskier had had the exact same idea for a song. Or perhaps he had a problem with Valdo’s barely concealed attempt at compromising Geralt, something Jaskier himself had taken great joy in doing with the worst possible pick-up lines, since the day they had met.

Whatever the reason for his anger, Jaskier took a deliberate pause, in which Valdo had enough time to regret every decision that had led up to this moment, before he charged at the troubadour, fluttering his wings and jumping up into Valdo’s face, clawing at his curls and tearing at his lacy night shirt.

“Witcher!” Valdo screeched, not unlike a rooster himself, and waved his arms to shoo Jaskier off – unsuccessfully. “Make him go away! Break the fucking curse! I – I’ll pay you! Twenty crowns!”

“Seventy,” Geralt deadpanned. No one in their right mind would pay that much coin, but Valdo Marx was evidently desperate and his decision was helped along by the rooster, who’s beak came dangerously close to tugging at the troubadour’s moustache.

“Fine! I’ll pay you seventy crowns.” Valdo’s voice broke in his blind panic. He would likely be unable to sing the next day, from all the shouting he did. “Just get him off of me!”

Geralt waited another heartbeat, granting Jaskier a last moment of rightful – and undoubtedly petty – vengeance, before pushing off the wall, opening his arms invitingly.

“Jaskier?”

Jaskier clucked in disappointment and pecked one last time at Valdo’s hair, before fluttering into Geralt’s arms.

The witcher left the troubadour’s rooms with his best friend, still in the form of a very smug cock in his arms, seventy crows richer and an experience he and Jaskier would laugh about many times over the next years.

--

As Geralt sat the rooster down on the bed at the room they had rented and let himself fall onto the bed next to him, Jaskier looked incredibly pleased with himself, preening and making noises, as if recounting the happenings, though Geralt had witnessed them first- hand.

When Geralt tilted his head in amusement, Jaskier seemed to realise that he still had no voice – or opposable thumbs - and let out a rather loud and obnoxious noise.

“Sorry,” Geralt said with a shit-eating grin, “I have no idea what you want from me. You’ll have to speak more clearly.”

Jaskier glared at him and fluttered closer to tug at Geralt’s hair impatiently.

Geralt chuckled and ran a hand over Jaskier’s soft feathers, making the bird-bard relax under his ministrations, though it was clear that Jaskier did so very reluctantly and would hold a grudge, if Geralt didn’t break the curse in the next five minutes.

Geralt hummed thoughtfully as he petted Jaskier.

“Just for the record, I thought taking revenge on Marx was a terrible idea,” he said, and when Jaskier clucked reproachfully, he added, “but it was quite impressive. And I had a lot of fun watching you.”

Geralt hadn’t known that cocks had the ability to look proud, but Jaskier somehow managed to do just that.

“In fact,” Geralt said slowly, already knowing that Jaskier would agree, once he heard Geralt’s full proposition, “how would you like to wait just a little longer before I break the curse?”

Jaskier pecked at Geralt’s fingers and glared at him.

“Come to Kaer Morhen with me,” Geralt said, flicking his fingers lightly against Jaskier’s beak. At his words, Jaskier perked up, cocking his head to the side curiously.

“Last winter, Lambert destroyed my room with a moon dust bomb. The damn silver shavings are still everywhere.” Geralt’s lips stretched into a wolfish grin. “I’m sure, as my ‘best friend in the whole wide world’, you wouldn’t mind returning the favour and wreaking a little havoc in my brother’s room. I couldn’t imagine anyone would be better suited for that job than you.”

Jaskier fluttered excitedly into Geralt’s lap and the sound he made in response to Geralt’s words could only be described as incredibly cocky.

[leviiattacks]

teacher!levi and teacher!reader headcanons please 🥺

author note :: i expected for this to be better but idk,,, um, you know maybe it’s just me who wishes i executed it better but i wrote this at 3am that’s my excuse. ANYWAY I HOPE U ENJOY ANON :-))) i know it’s not headcanons but here!! also my ask box is always open to feel free to drop by !! 

word count :: 5.4k (after i had to severely cut the word count down because my tumblr wouldn’t let me post the longer version with more detail,,,,)

honestly you’ve never fit in well with the math teachers in particular but you’re still amicable with most

however, there’s one unbearable member of the group that happens to want to play jump rope with your patience constantly

and that person just so happens to be mr ackerman

every single staff meeting the both of you sit furthest away from each other whilst silently exchanging bitter glares

maybe it’s his stony disposition or his unrealistically harsh grading system that makes him seem so off putting to you.

or perhaps it’s your soft and gentle approach to teaching that drives him up a wall

but to make matters simple, the two of you have never got along. nearly everything he says you disagree with and nearly everything you say he has to rebuke.

every outlandish suggestion of his at meetings is met with firm disapproval from you and every time you bring up wanting to provide the children with more time for extracurricular activities he sneers in annoyance

today he’s proposing a plan to set exams as soon as possible

???

you wonder if he’s even thinking with his head attached to his neck because it’ll be impossible for the children to handle all of the content in the form of an exam paper so soon

the workload he’s been pushing onto his math class has become far too ridiculous for your liking and you want to put an end to the man’s reign of terror

it just so happens your classes are scheduled in the blocks next to each other meaning he always sees your students an hour before you do

it’s got to the point where your pupils trudge into english class completely EXHAUSTED

the other day a boy fainted because of lack of sleep and now mr ackerman has the audacity to put forward the exam dates???

“we need to instill these children with discipline. taking them by surprise will give them a much needed reality check.”

you groan at his speech and raise a hand

“may i interject?”

professor ackerman’s tongue pokes at the inside of his cheek the irritation is painted on his face but he nods although he seems reluctant

“these children do not need standardized exams to-”

“would you like for me to completely scrap exams from the curriculum?” without even allowing for you to present your argument he has to cut you off with a mocking grin

“levi, i think-”

“that's mr ackerman to you.”

his blunt correction has you rolling your eyes because YES!! you understand the two of you aren’t exactly the best of friends but he doesn’t even want to be on a first name basis with a colleague of two years??

his pettiness has your blood boiling in searing displeasure

“you have to stop going so hard on these children.”

he’s shuffling through some paperwork not even batting an eye in your direction.

“personally, we aren’t hard enough but of course the english teacher has trouble understanding that.”

the jab he makes at your job only causes the anger inside of you to bubble up again

why does teaching english have ANYTHING to do with this???

“you teach math yet you can’t calculate the reasoning behind your subpar love life. do not insult english.”

personal insults are your favourite to throw at him because he always gets so riled up

and actually for once you have the answer to a math question.

the reason why his love life is so uneventful has to be because of this :

his personality + his obnoxious humour + his looks = a good looking but undatable man

his jaw clenches and the grip he has on the stack of papers in his hands strengthens

ok,, that is kinda hot but that is not relevant at all

you’re able to make out miss ral one of the other math teachers make a move to speak and god you fight the urge to punch her every day because she’s always gushing about mr ackerman

seeing as you don’t want to punch her or anyone for that matter you turn to give her a “if you speak right now i swear to god i will lose my shit” look

she gets the memo incredibly quickly because her mouth closes shut immediately

mr ackerman takes a sip out of the cup of black tea next to him. “i would appreciate if you just sat back and let me do what’s best.”

“children fainting in my lesson is not what’s best.” your rebuttal catches him off guard and he seems more than a little surprised

“wait- fainted??”

you eyes flick over to mr zacharias, you had told him to pass the message on but the way he’s sheepishly looking at the floor avoiding your eyes clearly tells you all you have to know

“looks like someone forgot to pass the message onto you but the other day falco fainted in english.”

“is he- is he okay?? did he say why?”

eyebrows raising you’re quite surprised to see any sort of reaction from him let alone concern

“he stayed up all night completing your homework.”

lips pressing together into a fine line it almost looks as if he’s guilty

“i’ll talk to him about it later.” his voice is back to its usually plain tone and any trace of his previous worry has been masked.

an awkward silence follows. he coughs choosing to not continue the discussion about exams.

principal smith takes the hint and moves on to discuss planned school trips

HOORAH victory!!!

yet another day where you’ve saved your students

“who is fallacy and why are they pathetic?” a few snorts and giggles are heard around the class and you force yourself to laugh at falco's miserable attempt at a joke

you’ve noticed falco’s been cracking more jokes around his new seat mate gabi.

she’s small but feisty always willing to debate and she’s really a joy to teach although she can get a little bit aggressive with the others at times

honestly it’s quite obvious that falco has a fat crush on her. well, actually it’s been obvious from the moment she step foot into your class

and... you couldn’t just ignore the way falco looked at her could you?? and there was an empty space next to him too sooooo, what harm would there be in placing the two together?

it seems as if your attempt at getting the both of them to talk has worked. gabi and falco compete desperately for the top position in the class and are two of the best students you’ve had in a while

also after the day falco fainted in class gabi has been noticeably nicer. things like asking if he’s drank water or how much he’s slept

you have a small inkling that she may like him back

and the budding romance is adorable to you because you too once had childhood crushes

it feels rather nostalgic to see the two interact

but today you notice the two aren’t in

in fact, you notice half of the class isn’t?

“where are the others?” your question sends a jolt through one of your present students but he stays silent choosing to pretend to clean his glasses as a distraction

crossing your arms over your chest you walk over towards his desk

“udo, you can tell me what it is.”

“professor ackerman said not to tell.” udo looks petrified and you’re just kinda wondering what in the hell is going on

lucky for you his resolve is thin and he quickly cracks under pressure

“okay. you can’t say i told.”

nodding in agreement he looks around making sure no one else hears what exactly it is he’s about to disclose

“he’s kept some people back to talk to them about something top secret. i don’t know what but he asked for the students who like you.”

at that you feel a little bitter because if he asked for the student who liked you why on earth is half the class still here??

but oh well, you guess you can’t please them all

“oh no, no, no. you’ve got it wrong. we all wanted to stay but he didn’t let us.”

udo looks genuine so you let it slide

either way it doesn’t really matter as long as the majority prefer you over that sick and twisted math teacher you’re alright

“he does know he’s cut into my class time right?”

“falco told him that and he whispered something about how you’re bothersome.”

you???? bothersome???

WHEN HE’S THE ONE BOTHERING EVERYONE?/!:£:!/)

you don’t even look back as you walk out frankly furious at what’s happened

english is important

ACTUALLY!!!

ENGLISH > MATH

you will stand by that till the day you die

your knuckle meets with the wooden surface of your sworn enemy’s classroom door and almost automatically you’re able to hear the shuffle of chairs and padding of numerous footsteps approach

the door swings open and you step aside to allow your missing students to pass through

they look nervous but one look at your reassuring smile lets them ease up and relax

“well.” a voice behind you snaps “look who paid me a visit.”

“we’re talking about this later.”

you try your best to sound serious but you don’t know if you pull it off as well as he does because he just ends up giving you a disappointed sort of look

“y/n. stick to being the good cop it suits you better.”

“we are not on first name basis. you said it yourself.” is your narrowed comeback

finally turning to face him you’re surprised when your eyes travel to the triangle of space behind him and you’re able to get a peek of what looks to be a list of books on his whiteboard

pride and prejudice

wuthering heights

jane eyre

ville-

before you’re able to read the rest he moves in front of your line of vision

he’s got quite the selection but,, when did he of all the people on this planet start showing any interest in literature?

“the books on the board what’s that about?”

your inquiry flies over his head and he shuts the door behind him completely

his face doesn’t move and if it does it only shows the slightest hint of confusion

“what books are you talking about?” he replies and don’t know why your knees feel a little weak when he looks you straight in the eyes

snap.

out.

of.

it.

“i saw books on the board.”

“you saw wrong.” he barks back and he’s getting agitated now

maybe you did imagine it...

and you have to get back to teach your class so okay fair enough you’ll let it go because you do know you have a habit of daydreaming randomly

however that doesn’t stop you from giving him another skeptical look before you leave because there is NO WAY you imagined it, but it is you and it really could be a possibility

the click clack of your heels against the floor sound out as you remove yourself from the conversation

you assume he’s returned to his classroom

that’s why it catches you by surprise when you hear a hesitant voice behind you

“there were no books on the board.”

you don’t know why he has to tell you that again because it only makes himself look all the more suspicious

“but if they were a list of book recommendations then what would you recommend i read?”

the question is peculiar coming from him

are you in an alternate universe?

is this a dream?

are you talking to a clone?

a robot?

because this can NOT be the same man you’ve been working with for two years

maybe he’s having a change of heart?

but that sounds unlikely

maybe he’s planning to read the book and somehow with that big brain of his formulate a calculation to score it a measly two out of ten

yeah. that sounds more likely.

nevertheless, you still want to give him a recommendation, maybe he’ll find out he’s into books this way

“you should totally check out pride and prejudice :-)”

for once you’re smiling at him and he doesn’t know what to do because the change is sudden but he doesn’t say a word after that

instead he retreats into his classroom

god.

now you’re sure he’s just asked to form a stupid calculation or whatever the hell it is math teachers do.

“he likes you.” hange has a shit eating grin on their face and you can’t help but narrow your eyes and sigh in exasperation

no he does not like you but you don’t try to correct hange because you know they’re firm in their stupid belief

“would you ever date him?” hange fiddles with the last of their potato salad absentmindedly waiting on your reply

the question literally has you choking on your lunch

“i would rather fight for survival in the wilderness. thank you for asking.”

“oh come on... he’s got a thing for you. you read romance novels all the time you should be able to tell he does.”

“yeah and that thing he has for me is wanting to shove my head onto a pitchfork. you’ve got the wrong end of the stick.” shoving a piece of pasta into your mouth you sigh dreamily at the taste. it serves as a momentary distraction

you get one lunch break and you are not!!!! in the mood to talk about him whilst you’re on that break

he’s attractive

and you have to admit he looks handsome in his crisp white button up and pristine black suit AND his cologne is really...

okay, you are digressing from the point

none of what you just said means anything!!!

at surface level he seems like a catch but it’s what’s on the inside that matters and he said he finds english stupid

that’s more than enough of a reason to dislike the guy?

he thinks stuff like the pythagorean theorem and y = mx+c are entertaining

y = mx+c ??? over literature???

you read books to teach and you read books for your own enjoyment

it would be a complete travesty if you had a crush on a book hater

and levi ackerman most certainly can be classed as a book hater.

a pessimistic book hater if the specifics are needed

“OH! SORRY Y/N GOTTA BLAST MOB’S OVER THERE!!!!!”

you don’t even get the chance to say goodbye because hange makes an eager run towards moblit

hange and moblit are inseparable, both are the shared heads of the science department and since he’s been off on sick leave recently you understand why hange’s rushed off to greet him

you wish you had a teacher friend like that but the sad truth is you’re pretty much a lone wolf. the other english teachers are wrinkly old pickles and talk about antiques or quiz shows :-(

“this seat free?”

no way.

it’s not him

it can't be

what does he even want??

“um, well yeah it is free b-.”

“good.” he takes the seat without you even inviting him and now you’re stuck in an awkward situation you didn’t even expect to be in today

you're about to burst into tears because is it too much to ask for a peaceful lunch period???

mr ackerman clears his throat and places a book in the center of the table. “pride and prejudice although not my cup of tea was... mildly enjoyable.”

wait...

is this him...

admitting defeat!??

HELLLOOOOO

you are over the moon right now because you know he really had to have enjoyed it a lot and is simply choosing to withhold that information for his own reputation

“i’m happy to hear you took a liking to it.” you’re munching away at your pasta a little more upbeat now

“okay but the start of the book assuming all single men want a wife? no, all i want is a good night’s rest for once. also mrs bennet needs to calm down, elizabeth can marry who the hell she wa-”

“someone’s a little passionate aren’t they?” you giggle into your glass of water and you catch mr ackerman frowning

“i liked it okay.”

“i thought you said it was only mildly enjoyable just now?” grinning and looking at him through your lashes his cheeks become red

you guess he’s angry or something but that’s the usual with him

“yeah, whatever. i just wanted to play fair and apologise.”

“apologise?” oh wow, now your interest has really peaked because never in the past two years has he apologised to ANYONE

not even principal smith for the one time he flipped out and nearly cursed at a mouthy student at parent's evening

grimacing a little before he does it he finally speaks again.

“english is important. i’m sorry.”

your lips tug up into a bright smile

well???

this is a great interaction??

an apology coming out of levi ackerman of all people

“apology accepted! i’m glad to know you liked the book but now that we’re a tad bit friendlier with each other i wanted to ask for a favour.” your eyes gleam and he swears he can see specks of shining stars in them

“...okay, it depends.”

he’s warming up to you so he considers it

“please don’t cut into my lesson time levi.” his name slips out of your mouth but it’s so natural you don’t even care to correct yourself

“i’m sorry about that too y/n.” your name now ventures out of his mouth too as it tests the waters

wordlessly the two of you agree to first name basis

BUT more important matters are at hand such as how he’s issued you yet another apology?

this is satire surely

because why is he so willing all of a sudden...?

well, that's the power of pride and prejudice, wow you’re really thanking the heavens for blessing this world with jane austen’s existence

jane austen. a woman capable of remarkable things, she's even managed to make an unmoving book hater somehow become a lover

poking at your tuna pasta you and levi are now quiet.

“soooooo, any opinions on mr wickham?” you ask the question hoping to initiate a longer conversation than before

and luckily for you your attempt works

SUCCESS!!

levi pinches the bridge of his nose and the creases on his forehead show he clearly isn't particularly fond of wickham

“don’t get me started he’s so indescribably annoying?”

ok, ok, ok

you don’t even know how it happens but you and levi really hit it off

weeks have passed and you and him have even become lunch buddies

it was so shocking to moblit at first that he dropped his lunch on the floor when he saw you and levi enthusiastically exchanging words

then again, two mr wickham haters are bound to get along

you’re seriously wondering how the two of you ever survived as mortal enemies

yeah, you still disagree a lot but you’re getting there!!

sometimes he helps you out when your computer stops running and in exchange you’re willing to offer him book recommendations

he swears he doesn't want any recommendations from you but you know he enjoys it

yesterday he got microsoft excel out and showed you how useful it really was and you went :O because you never really understood the need for it at all

you’re a little bit of a granny when it comes to tech...

and just today at lunch you recommended he checks some plays out but his nose wrinkled at the mention of shakespeare so the both of you went through a long list of dramas and eventually you were able to interest him in j.b. priestely's an inspector calls

another victory for you!!

anyway, right now the two of you are sitting inside of the staff room seeing as it's that time of the month again.

time for the monthly staff meeting

it's the first one you've had since you and levi became friends and you're worried the both of you will be back at it butting heads

wait, are you friends?

well, you wouldn't mind if that were the case but to be honest you would like to be a little bit more than friends mayb-

no!!! no!!! no!!! stupid thought!!! you retract that statement immediately

no you do not want to be more than friends with levi ackerman, yes he's lovely to a degree but you are not going to elaborate on why it's a terrible idea to fancy him

okay wait, let's elaborate for the sake of elaborating

he's surprisingly charming and wittier than you thought he would be. the fun conversations are making your days now and to be honest it is nice to have someone to spend lunch with (hange usually skips out on lunch all together to tinker in the science labs and set up experiments)

wait... weren't you suppose to explain why you don't want to get with him?

you're an idiot and you don't notice how dumb you really are until everyone just kinda gawks at the both of you because it's so odd seeing you in the same room let alone within a three feet radius of each other.

fuck, you completely forgot you and levi sat at opposite ends of the room

principal smith enters and even he looks visibly shocked at the change in seats but he doesn't mention it and you're grateful he doesn't because you didn't purposefully sit here it just happened on accident

erwin turns in your direction and smiles

"would you like to start off with your proposition for extracurriculars?"

nodding your head you begin passionately.

"well, i'd like to say i don't think we offer the children enough. we have spare funding so why not open another club? cooking perhaps? i understand many of you may not understand the importance of teaching them how to cook but-"

"do you have an obsession for setting these children up for failure?" tensing up you notice it's levi who's spoke and he doesn't sound remotely happy

blinking once and then twice he realizes his tone isn't the best and he mutters an apology "sorry, go ahead i'll add in when you're done."

whispers travel through the room straight away

"did he just say sorry?"

"actually why are those two sitting together?"

"do you think they're you know...?"

miss ral who's sat a little further away is the next person to disagree with you

"i understand the intention but would it not be better to let them have extra math lessons?"

"oh, so you can get a pay rise?" the comeback you make is aggressive and dripping in displeasure

she sits up face burning up

"no- no- absolutely not i take pleasure in teaching all of my classes." flustered and trying to hide her nerves she takes a sip out of her water bottle

you want to pour all of the water out onto that ginger hair of hers

the reason why her interjection is getting on your nerves is due to the fact you overheard her and another one of the math teachers plan to bring this specific point up

and you are well aware that her reasoning behind it has nothing to do with the children

she couldn't care less about them

"do not make me repeat what you and mr bozado were chit chatting about earlier today."

the threat is enough to silence her and just when you think you've handled the situation levi has to give his input

"let's ignore petra's motivations and talk about how teaching these kids how to cook means nothing if they have no tradable skills to offer in the real world." levi's not looking at you. he's either too annoyed or too preoccupied with his thought process

at that moment you feel naive, you thought maybe he would try to understand your opinion seeing as he's been spending so much time with you as of recent but that looks to not be the case

murmurs of agreement fill the room at his statement and you feel pathetic

it's practically the entire room against you now

genuinely how is it these people can manage to be such spoiled sports about everything?

"recently, i asked all of my classes to write an essay about school stress. maybe you won't understand my views because you haven't read their pieces but they need a fucking break." the expletive flies out of your mouth without warning and you flush in embarrassment

that

was

not

professional.

"oh god, i'm sorry i got worked up i shouldn't hav-" fumbling over all of your words you feel even more mortified

the principal raises his hand signalling you stop and you clamp your mouth shut. you're in huge trouble that's for sure

but,,, in spite of the clear difference in opinion between you and the other teachers, soft and well spoken principal smith says the unthinkable

"i have the final say and i believe you are coming from a good place after reading your student's work. how would you feel about running the new cooking club?"

scanning his face for a second you can tell his question is legitimate and the wave of relief that washes over you has never felt better than ever

sighing contently you agree and as the topic of conversation shifts to something else entirely you sense your heart rate picking up

you feel like you're back to square one with levi.

it's yet another day where you’ve saved your students and you should be feeling overjoyed but if anything you feel a little deflated

you wish he would have come around and understood but you can't teach and old dog new tricks

again, the feeling of disappointment wears you down

two weeks have passed since then and your favourite time of year has come. it’s spring term meaning MACBETH

the english curriculum includes plays and it just so happens that today is your first lesson covering shakespeare

and you LOVE shakespeare

something about all the intricate foreshadowing always has you excited

but some children are missing

and it’s way too many to blame on sickness

so you wait for a few minutes but it's consistently radio silent

the last time this happened the culprit had been levi and he promised to never cut into your lesson time

but you could count on him to break his promise after the fiasco that was the monthly meeting

is he back to hating you and hating literature?

well, that's his loss if that's the case!! and no!! you will not upset yourself over the loss of the budding friendship

sighing you get to your feet making a beeline to the door but gabi and falco rush to stop you

awkward chuckles activated they wave their hands to get your attention “OH NO, they’ll only be five minutes!!” their sentence comes out as one big blur of words but you manage to understand them

now you’re doubtful because you know falco and gabi would usually ignore you and allow you to walk out

giving them a knowing glance the pair look between each other

their eyes are clearly communicating and asking if it’s alright to tell you

“i promise i won’t be mad.” you sigh

perhaps if you reassure them they’ll be more likely to spill the beans

“it’s not that you... i don't know. you might be upset.” gabi isn't one to care much for other's feelings so you're slightly anxious even though you shouldn't be

but you’re a tough nut to crack. so, absolutely not. you are not going to upset yourself over whatever it is

“i won’t be hurt. i’ve suffered through reading some of the most emotional classics to ever exist.” hitting your chest with your fist you wince a little because you hit yourself a little too hard

falco’s seems to be too shy to come out with it so gabi takes the lead as she normally does

“some students were talking badly about you so mr ackerman kept them behind to have a talk.”

oh.

yeah, actually you are a teeny weeny bit disheartened because you think you’re nice to all of your pupils but it’s nothing too bad, not everyone will like you

“if that’s all i’ll go get them. thank you for letting me know.” giving them two thumbs up you leave the class immediately

levi is probably scolding them to hell and back

not because he cares for you but because he hates disrespect in general

as you’re nearing the open door of his classroom you hear something you never thought would emerge from levi’s room

“final question. why does mr darcy say he doesn’t want to dance with elizabeth at first?” oh yeah, that’s levi’s voice for sure

an english question?

is he quizzing them on pride and prejudice?

you wait hoping your students don't fail you and are able to provide the correct answer.

“ummm... she’s not pretty enough!!”

levi hums “you answered all five questions right. do you all know why?”

you can’t see the children’s faces but they have to be confused if there’s no immediate response

he grunts in agitation “because your english teacher works hard to teach you every single day. have some respect because that teacher of yours is one in a million.”

taking your bottom lip in between your teeth you fight the urge to smile

“do you know how at every single staff meeting there’s only ever one teacher fighting for you all and what you want. i can assure you that teacher isn’t me, but i believe you can all guess who i'm talking about.”

your heart does a back flip in your chest and you feel jittery but in that really fuzzy good way

like that super duper fuzzy and hazy good way

he’s really very sweet for saying all of this and you're now smiling like an idiot

one pupil takes a chance to make amends “we’re sorry mr ackerman.”

but before levi can give them a response you clap your hands together and walk in unannounced 

“apology accepted, now if you want to all be forgiven forever please return to class and answer the questions on the board!” directing them to the door with your hands you make sure they're conscious fo the fact you aren't mad at them

still, never have you seen them so eager to run off to analyze macbeth. you guess levi's deathly stare is the cause for it

holding back a laugh you clear your throat after the last student leaves

“thank you levi :-)”

it’s quiet for a second and you think to ask him about what has been gnawing at your mind

“you didn’t have to do that. you disagreed with me before so... why did you?”

“i say this at every meeting and you never listen but children need to be disciplined.” his unchangeable tone is unwelcoming

again it’s awkwardly silent and you sorta regret even coming over to see what was going on because now you and levi are just having an uncomfortable staring contest

then he scratches the back of his neck and heaves a heavy breath

“it may also be because i really fucking like you, but i look like an idiot saying that when we’ve been at each other's necks for two years.”

oh.

the sudden and brutally honest confession has the wind knocked out of you, you’re stunned

and then you get hit by it too. the realization hits you like rain hits umbrellas on stormy days. you like him too.

you like him for his witty sense of humour, his pure honesty and his hatred for mr wickham only serves as a bonus

yes, you have your differences. many of them. but you like him

he’s no longer a book hater and so by default you can fancy him. he goes against none of your guidelines essentially

you like him, he likes you back?’//’.;

[SCREAMS]

“well, what do you say? will you be this mr darcy's elizabeth bennet?” hearing the cheesy pickup line from him of all people has the butterflies in your stomach exploding in delight 

“you sound weird, where's the grumpy math teacher from before?" now you and him are simply shamelessly flirting but HEY!! you have no complaints at all

he scoffs at your sarcastic question

"do you want the equation for a two dimensional heart on a graph beca-"

"can i just kiss you?"

wOWIE are you being bold today y/n???

thankfully you don't have to wait for his answer. levi’s right hand pulls your face in and he slams his lips against yours. he gives your waist a squeeze and you hold him tighter by the neck in response. he has a way of somehow making it all feel gentle and relaxed in the same breath

and... you know what? maybe you should have recommended pride and prejudice to him earlier

but oh well.

what matters the most right now is that you're kissing your mr darcy!!

and he’s kissing his elizabeth bennet

:-)

[padme-parker]

Mizpah // the darkling x f!reader // ch 7

summary: You and Aleksander come to a disagreement discussing who should be able to wear Morozova’s collar. Zoya is put in her place. Alina has a talk with Baghra. 

warnings: swearing (I think??), violence, baghra being an old hag.

A/N: frfrfrfrfr sorry this took so long lmao, it was very unmotivated to finish. not proofread, I was halfway asleep when writing this so sorry for any mistakes. Listen to a great song while ur reading lol!

YOU thought back to what the letter in your pocket said, something had changed within Aleksander. Before he was the Darkling, he was your Aleksander. That naive, loving boy was now gone. Replaced by the rough shell of a man. He sought out the power to protect his people, power that you could wield.

“Aleksander,” His name left your lips in a hushed whisper, “..what if I want the stag for myself?”

“No, I won’t allow it. We have Alina for that.” His dark gaze bore into yours. His eyebrows scrunched together, suggesting the conflict within him. He wanted for you to have the stag, more than anything. But he wouldn’t let it happen if that meant losing you, he realized that now, centuries too late.

“I won’t allow you to put the life of my friend at risk.” You shook your head, Alina deserved to live a happy life with Mal. Far away from the war and the Little Palace. Somewhere far away from your Aleksander.

“So then you agree, it’s a risk. I’m not going to let you take it. Not when I just got you back.” He said, reminding you of the many times he’d lost you to the stag.

“Things are different now. We have better weapons. More Grisha willing to fight than ever. We even have two sun summoners.”

“The Fjerdans have a weapon that fired multiple bullets at once.” The haunting images of Mikhael and Dubrov being shot down entered your mind. They had been your friends too, even if you weren’t as close to them as Mal was. “And the Shu, they’ve always had far more advanced technology than us. Like I said, no one can know about you being a sun summoner.”

“But..” You longed to feel that giddy warmth you felt when you summoned, a glow that you could feel radiating from you. It was the same glow Alina had on her face whenever she summoned. The glow Zoya had when she used the wind to push you into that stone wall. You hovered one hand atop the other, waiting for something to happen. A simple spark, then nothing. A frustrated sigh left your lips.

“It won’t come that easily, my love. That’s why Alina and I must banish the fold together. Only then can we truly be together.”

“You said-” A memory comes flashing, candles and lanterns flickering. The two of you laid naked in a bed, a thin sheet covering you. His hand resting on your hip, his thumb rubbing soothing circles. He whispered something into your ear, moving his hand from your hip to glide over your collarbones. You shiver at the memory. “You said that you and I were going to change the world. So what’s changed?”

“I thought that there would ever be only you and I. That there would be no others like us. But I was wrong, we have Alina now-”

“You have me! I didn’t know it until now, but you’ve always had me.” You raised your voice, startling him. “Do you tell the same thing to all the sun summoners you meet? Or was it just me and Alina, oh wait..” You scoffed out. This was ridiculous, you came here for the truth. Not to argue with an ancient man.

“It’s not like that, I thought I had lost you forever. I mourned you for centuries, even the day I met Alina. I mourned you until you finally returned to me.” He takes your face into his hands once more. You’d become increasingly aware of just how naked he was, you eyes darting down to the towel that was holding on for dear life. “I can’t spend the rest of my life mourning you again, knowing that you may never return.”

“Fine.” You weren’t giving up, not yet. But you didn’t want to spend another second with him when he was just a slip away from flashing you. You make your way to the door, but before you could even touch the knob, you're in his arms once more.

“Where do you think you're going?” His voice was deep, raspy. His hold on your wrist was gentle as he stared at you, waiting for you to answer.

“To sleep.” You said, as if the answer was obvious. “In my room.”

Aleksander exhales, heavily sighing. “You could stay here..” Even after centuries, you were still the one person who could make his heart flutter. The only one who could make him nervous. He didn’t show it visibly. But from the smirk on your face, he could tell that you knew the effect you had on him. “..with me.”

You observed his room, hexagonal in shape. All the furniture was black, keeping to his theme. Quite possibly the most horribly decorated room you’ve ever been in.

“Do you really live like this?” His room lacked the life and warmth you seeked. There were bookshelves that ranged from floor to ceiling. Images of a forest etched onto the walls. He may have lived here, but it was clear it wasn’t his home.

“Here? Yes. But I wouldn’t call this living.” He surveyed his own room, looking at everything from his bookshelves to his domed ceiling above his bed. “Just merely surviving. The Little Palace isn’t my home.”

“And what is?” You’d already expected what his answer would be.

“You.” He hears you scoff at his statement as he lets a smile paint his features. “Our home, just north of Kribirsk.”

“We have a home together?” You tried to imagine what it would be like, a comfy little cabin in the woods. The General you knew wasn’t one for modesty, he rode around in a black carriage for Saints sake. But maybe for you, he would have settled down for a simple life.

“Well, would you call a run down castle a home?” If you closed your eyes hard enough, you could visualize it. A stone castle overgrown with vines, some of the structures had tumbled to the floor. You could hear the rushing water in the background, most likely a river. Fields of lavender surrounded the castle. The lavender and honey bar of soap came to mind, he remembered what you smelt like. A smile came to your lips. “What, do you think that's funny?”

“No, it’s just..lavender and honey. You remembered.” You teased, using your hand to cover your mouth to subside the laughter that was bubbling in your throat.

“Besides your belongings, it was the only thing that kept you fresh in my memory.” He walks closer to you, something akin to cinnamon, rain, and honey wafting towards you. Such a similar scent, but so different.

“Well,” You said, removing the gold kefta revealing the black slip on you had worn underneath, “If we’re going to sleep in the same bed, can you please put on some pants.” You set the kefta on a chair, feeling his gaze on you. His eyes taking in your form as you kept your back to him. The next thing you heard was the shuffling of his feet, then his towel dropping to the ground. Your eyes widened as you resisted the urge to whip your head around.

“You can look.” He said, but you knew he hadn’t even put on his trousers. “It’s not like you haven’t seen me naked before.”

“I know that, but I haven’t yet in this lifetime.” You let out a nervous laugh as you toyed with the lace detailing of your slip on.

“We can change that now if you’d like.” This time, you whip your head around. You're thankful to see that he’s got his trousers on now, along with a shirt. The corners of his lips quirk up as he takes in your reaction, “I’m just kidding.” He said, followed by a whisper, “maybe..”

“No, no. You and I are just going to sleep together. I mean sleep in the bed together. As you know, like friends, but not friends-” You stop yourself before you could go on. “Aht, you know what I mean.”

“Are you nervous?” He questioned, his eyes looking at how you fidgeted with your clothes. “You always find something to fidget with when you’re nervous.” The statement made you drop the lace of the slip on, clasping your hands together behind your back.

“I’m fine.” liar. But who wouldn’t be nervous? This was the infamous Darkling, and you were going to sleep next to him. You reassured yourself that you weren’t like the others. How many of his flings did he invite to stay the night when he was finished with them? Probably none. Besides, you weren’t a fling, not even close to it.

“You know you can trust me, right? I won’t do anything you're not comfortable with.” You let out a hum as you made your way towards his bed. He copied your actions, lifting up the covers and getting in them. He patted the spot next to him, waiting for you to move. You go to take off your night slippers and place them at the foot of the bed, noticing that he had also placed his boots near the foot of the bed.

“So, that’s where I get the habit from.” You said as you got into the covers, sitting awkwardly next to him. “I assume I get my many habits from you then. Just not sure which ones.”

“There’s a long list of them,” The fidgeting of your hands and feet make him laugh, “That one, surely doesn’t come from me.” Before you know it, you’re encapsulated by his arms. You let out an oomph at the sudden movement.

“Comfortable now?”

“Very.” You replied as you snaked your arm across his waist, your head resting on his chest. Listening to the steady beat of his heart. It was your first time being in his arms, but it felt so natural to you. A memory from Caryeva surfaced, golden eyes that stared back at you as you melted in his embrace. You shook the memory from your mind, not wanting to think about him when you had Aleksander next to you. “Do you think we could visit the castle?” You whispered, playing with the fabric of his tunic.

“Anything you want.” One of his hands goes to your hair, gently playing with it. The other stroking the soft skin of your shoulder. It was a routine that came naturally to the both of you, as if the missing puzzle pieces had fallen into place. “That’s actually where I went for the week. I knew that sooner or later, you would remember me. I wanted our home to be just the way you remembered it when you arrived.”

“That’s very nice of you…” Sleep was finally catching up to you as the truth weighed heavy on your mind. Aleksander continued to play with your hair even when you saw the steady rise and fall of your chest, signalling you were asleep. Careful not to wake you, he kisses the back of your head with a smile. You were finally in his arms once more.

-

THE feeling of someone breathing behind you had pulled you out of your sleep. It wasn’t a situation that you found yourself in often. But the warmth he had been radiating had almost lulled you back to sleep, almost. The arm that was loosely thrown around your waist had pulled you closer until he could rest his chin on your shoulder.

“Good morning, my darling.” His deep, raspy morning voice had stirred something in your stomach, a fire igniting in your core. “How did you sleep?” You removed his hand from your waist as you turned to face him.

“Fine, now that you’re beside me.” You had to admit, it was weird sleeping in the same bed so soon after finding out the truth. But you didn’t want to take any moment with him for granted. “I had another memory come to me while I was asleep.” He urges for you to continue, “I think we were at the castle. The sun was setting, giving the room the most beautiful haze. There was no music playing, but we were dancing in each other's arms.”

You see him smile as you describe the memory to him. He abruptly gets out of the bed, only to offer his hand to you. You wearily place your hand into his, a giggle leaving your lips as he tugs you out of bed and into his embrace.

“There’s no music!” You said as he twirled you around.

“It didn’t stop us last time.” He swiftly replied before pulling you back into his arms, settling for a slow sway. You could feel the fabric of his trouser brush against your legs at his every movement. Laying your head on his chest, a feeling of ease overtook you. You closed your eyes as you got lost in his hold.

It was a feeling so foreign to you. All your life you had always been on edge, even as a child at Keramzin. You could never let your guard down. But with Aleksander there was a side to you that you never knew. One that allowed you to relax and finally be happy. It was a side that neither of your closest friends had seen, ever. When survival was always your priority, you were never given the chance to be at ease.

“Open your eyes.” Once more the room had been engulfed by your light. You looked at your hands as they were glowing, a shocked laugh leaving you.

“Are you doing this?”

He shook his head before replying, “No. This is all you.” You noticed the lack of his shadows in the room, signifying he had no part in what was happening.

“I thought you said it wouldn’t be easy for me to conjure light.” You closed your hands and watched as the light faded, the only indication that you had summoned was the glow on your face.

“I guess being at ease helped you. From here it should get easier by the day to call forth the light.” He explained, a prideful look on his face.

“Does that mean I can have the stag now?”

He lets out a sigh, “No, like I said. I won’t risk your life for the stag again.” His resolve remained strong, never once showing a change of heart.

“But I’m getting stronger, within months I’ll be able to summon at my fullest potential!” You insisted, keen on having the stag on you instead of Alina.

“The key word here is months, we don’t have that time anymore. I’ve already spent months training and mentoring Alina. The people are getting restless, they want to see the shadow fold gone. Immediately.” He responded.

You opened your mouth to reply, only to get cut off by the frantic knocking at the door.

“What is it?” Aleksander growled out, irritated by the interruption.

“Sir! It’s the girl! She seems to be missing. We’ve searched everywhere for her, General.” Fedyor’s panicked voice rang out. “I’m so sorry, I’ve failed you, General Kirigan.” You roll your eyes as you go to open the door. Probably not the smartest idea since you were just in your nightgown.

“I’m right here Fedyor, no need to worry.” He takes in the disheveled state of your hair. Not yet combed since you’d just woken up.

“Oh sorry, did I interrupt?” He sends you a suggestive wink, which he prays that the General didn’t see.

“No. In fact, I was just leaving.” You looked back to Aleksander, a bewildered look on his face. “Have a nice day, General! I’ll see you later for dinner, like we discussed.” You hoped he caught onto your excuse.

“So, you and the General..” Fedyor began, his shoulder bumping into yours in a teasing manner.

“We were just merely discussing plans.” You lied, which wasn’t very much far from the truth.

He gives you a once over, “in your sleep attire?”

“It was an urgent matter.” You replied, stilling as you remembered you had left your kefta in his room. You’d just have to fetch it later.

“I’m sure it was.” He snickered. Soon the two of you parted ways, you to your room as he went to combat training. You decided to get changed for the day. You put on your usual military outfit, along with your weapons strapped to you. It’s not like you needed them when you could summon the sun from the tips of your fingers at any given moment.

No one can know. His voice rang clear in your mind, reminding you to limit the use of your summoning. You flopped onto your bed with a sigh. You were in the Little Palace and still managed to find nothing to do. You remembered the books you had so carelessly tossed when you encountered the Apparat.

Reaching for one of the books, you began to read it. You didn’t know how much time had passed when you decided to put down the book. It had been intriguing, but the strain on your eyes was becoming too much. The sun was still shining bright, you decided that you could explore the grounds on your own.

You threw on your jacket, doubling checking to make sure you had your weapons on you. The cold winter wind nipped at your skin as you clutched your jacket closer to you, trying to maintain your body heat. You resisted the urge to join the Grisha as you walked past the combat training area. The thought of fresh air had been appealing, hoping that it would help clear your mind. But it did little to ease it. There were so many questions that you didn’t know if Aleksander could answer. Have you always been a sun summoner? Why wouldn’t Aleksander let you take Morozova’s collar for yourself? How long had it been since he last saw you?

Soon, you found yourself in front of a fountain, a bench a few paces away from it. The old pictures on the stone made you laugh, how wrong their story was. You knew Aleksander, or as they called him, the Black Heretic, had regretted creating the fold. He did so out of anguish, the loss of you becoming too much. Ever since then, the two of you had collectively worked together to destroy the fold. But it seemed like the Saints had other plans for you each time.

“Something funny, otkazat’sya?” Zoya’s voice boomed out from behind. You spun around, finding that Zoya had been accompanied by the oprichniki Grisha as well.

“Shouldn’t you be minding your business, Zoya?” You must admit, it was a lame comeback. But it was the first thing that came to mind.

“I’ll mind my business when you finally leave the palace.” She and the oprichniki took two steps towards you as you took a step back. “Why are you even here? What could the General possibly want from you?” She taunted.

“Well, there’s a long list. Would you like to know?” You didn’t wait for her to reply before continuing, “For starters, I’m not easy. Not like you.” Zoya raises her fist, nearly summoning before the oprichniki stops her. “The General actually enjoys my company, can you believe it! I don’t need to seduce him to keep his attention.” She breaks loose from the oprichniki’s hold and lunges towards you. Before she can even reach you, she has a pistol drawn to her head, your pistol.

“Take another step and you’ll see for yourself if the Saints are actually true.” You threatened. Zoya could have easily summoned air to misdirect the bullet, no one would see. “You know, after being reprimanded, I would have thought that you’d learn your place. But perhaps you haven’t, so let me remind you.” You put your pistol away as you approached her. She lets out a yelp as you grabbed a handful of her hair, forcing her to her knees as her eyes flew up to yours. Your other hand had a harsh grip around her jaw. “I maybe be otkazat’sya, but you’ll find that my aim is accurate. I make no mistakes, Zoya. Remember that the next time you try to cross me.” You released her as she fell to the ground, tears in her eyes. You didn’t know if they were from embarrassment or fear, it’s not like you cared either way.

“Well, well, well, just what exactly do we have here?” Aleksander’s form came abruptly from the forest, as if he had been watching his whole time and he just now decided to make his appearance.

“Nothing. They were just leaving. Isn’t that right Zoya?” You stared at her as the oprichniki helped her up, the two of them scurrying away, leaving you alone with Aleksander. “Pathetic, aren’t they? How long were you watching?”

“I saw them following you and decided to follow them. I knew you could handle yourself, but I wanted to watch the show.” He entwined your arms together as the two of you took the long way back to his room, a path where no one would be able to interrupt or spot you.

“Did you enjoy it?” You questioned, stroking the soft fabric of his kefta.

“Seeing you put Zoya rightfully in her place? Yes. Although I do wish it was you who was on your knees.” He suggested, making a gasp leave your lips. “Anyways, it was time to fetch you for lunch. I know you didn’t have breakfast, and you wouldn’t be able to last until dinner.”

“Why thanks for the concern, my knight in shining armor.” You looked at his outfit again, choosing to reword your statement. “Correction, my darkling in a black kefta.” Now that you were thinking about it, you’d never seen him in anything else but black. Sure there were some memories here and there of him in a different colored top, but he left those colors behind when he’d lost you.

“So, what’re we having for lunch today?” You asked, the two of you continued walking towards his room. There were no interruptions, no others. Just Aleksander and y/n, the way it had always been. The way it’ll always be, until eternity.

-

MEANWHILE in the sweltering heat of Baghra’s hut, Alina struggled to get a grip on her sun summoning.

“What’s wrong with you, child?” Baghra chided, the thought of hitting Alina with her stick had crossed her mind one too many times today. She was about ready to throw her into the fire pit.

“I’ve noticed something.” She began, “Ever since my friend arrived at the Little Palace, it’s like there’s a side of Ale..” Alina let his name die on the tip of her tongue, it felt strange to be saying his given name. “..there’s a side of the Darkling I never knew existed. She’s brought out something in him. Something I haven’t been able to do in the months I’ve been here.”

She felt something comparable to hatred flow through her veins. But she could never bring herself to hate you. Not when you were practically her sister. No- she hated the way she’d so easily given into the Darkling, and how easily he’d thrown her away. She hated herself for giving up on Mal.

“You must tell me child, what is her name?” Alina had never heard such urgency from the old hag before.

“Y/n, her name is y/n y/l/n.” Her eyes widen in shock as she sees the smallest smile come to Baghra’s face. “Do you need a healer or something? Why are you smiling?”

Baghra left Alina in silence as her mind whirled with the possibilities. But there was one echo that was louder than the rest of them: Hope.

-

Mizpah tags: @all-art-is-quite-useless @devilxangel @musicconversedance @parabatai-winchester@runawayolives​ @tartiflvtte @rbg1933 @thatguppienamedbae@batgal96​ @thebarisinhell99 @5hundreddaysofsummer​ @kaqua​ @queenseneschal @benbarnes-supremacy @princessofpersia96 @takethee @dontjinx-it @freakytillthemoon @amortentiaaaa@marvel-ousnesss @coolninjavoid @areomalfoy​ @pansysgirlfriend @universalirwin @leavejuliaalone @xx-winwin-wednesday-xx​ @honeyofthegods @lunamyangel @d-list-goddess​ @comphersjost @telepathdestiel @the-celestial-kitsune @thestoryofmylife9 @s-corpionem @pancakeisreading @sanna2020​ @secretsandtinyshadows @savannah-elliott @maliasblue @tea-effect @disneyandharrypotter @futuristicpinklemur @tanyaherondale​ @the-puff-is-strong-with-this-one @hxgreeves @yourboiialucard​ @thereeallink @ladyblablabla @wolfieellsworld​ @p3nny4urth0ught5​ @louweasleymalfoy @the-natureofme@itsloveroflife @oddlittleminx @within-thehollowcrown​ @itsfangirlmendes @heyyimlaynna @jgtfvhsg @gloriousmoneyrascalbiscuit @auggie2000​ @itsnotquimey @jtownraindancer @sonnensplitter @sarcastic-and-cool @poulterfilms @spookybooisa @stickyknightflowerbailiff​ @hollandsweetie @yungkvte @evyiione @2023-padfoot @kawaiimarshmallow @nikki-sixx-is-daddy @sanktawylan @blackbirddaredevil23​ @athenamikaelson​ @mellifluous-cosmos​ @mylittlecrazyworldofinterest​ @iiclarixa​ @lcandothisallday​ @agent-jbarnes​ @cleverzonkwombatsludge​ @tiiffanym​ @spnstuff-mrvl​

Mizpah taglist closed for now </333

S.a.B. forever tags: @deceivedeer​

[youryanderedaddy]

I like your posts, it's always cool. May i ask a yandere concept between an innocent, protected princess and a prince who obsessed with her from the first time they met, and force against her will. Thanks so much, love your writing :3

Thanks, anon, that means a lot <3 If you haven't noticed, I am oBseSSed with royalty stuff so I rlly enjoyed writing this. It's slightly different tho, but the idea is there.

Title: We all fall down

tw: female reader, non - consensual touching, obsessive behavior, coercion, implied forced marriage, war mention, abuse of power

It was cold when you woke up, terribly so. The room was spacious enough, there was bright sunlight coming from all four windows on each wall and you were sure that your sheets were warm and puffy even without looking down at them, yet it still felt freezing. You soon realized the place wasn’t simply cold, it was different too. It looked nothing like your own room back at the Southern Palace with its countless colourful pictures, books shattered all over the ground and a fireplace just across the queen – sized bed. Before you had a chance to sigh in annoyance, a quick glance to the other side reminded you of the bigger problem. Him.

“Good morning, princess.” The man greeted you cheerfully, his voice still deep and husky from the early hour. He was laying against the wooden doorframe, the sly smirk you had grown to hate over the years once again adorning his red lips. You stared at him for a moment, then rubbed your eyes to chase the fatigue away, fruitlessly so. You were too tired and sleep – deprived to play – pretend, which of course didn’t go unnoticed by the nobleman.

“You don’t look too well, princess.” He teased with a cheeky grin and walked towards the bed, stopping just before his legs hit the edge of the frame. You puffed softly, but remained quiet just so you wouldn’t have to answer him just yet. “And look at your state, darling…” The heir continued, clicking his tongue in a mocking “tsk, tsk,tsk”. “Your nightgown is a mess, I can see all of your beautiful curves.” The heir paused to lick his lips in a disgusting, suggestive way, and you had to repress the need to vomit all over the beautiful yellow sheets. “In our kingdom such appearance counts as an invitation, did you know that?” He added, smiling sharply, like a wolf in sheep’s clothing, satisfied at the way his words made you embarrassed, flustered and jumpy so early in the morning.

“Your Highness, I would like to properly remind you that it was you who forced me to drink and dance all night.” You responded heatedly, all while fixing the straps of your silky dress to at least cover your cleavage. “You wouldn’t let go of my hand for a second. It’s your fault that I look like this.” You remarked, slightly offended by the man’s jokes, despite being used to his terrible humor after all those long years of shared parties and celebrations.

“If that is really so, my lady, please let me make it up to you.” The prince replied in the same smooth, carefree voice of his, the one he used before while talking to the maids and the peasant girls he wanted to bed. It made you sick to think of yourself as just another of his conquests, even though it couldn’t be further from the truth – you couldn’t stand the dark – haired male, his arrogance and absolute ignorance. “Join me for breakfast and I shall have our best cook serve your favorite meal.” The heir announced and winked at you before turning on his heels and finally leaving the room without hearing whether you agreed to his offer or not. You didn’t even have the chance to ask him how he knew what your favorite dish was or why he entered your room without permission, such a lack of manners was unsuited for a soon-to-be king. Perhaps you could use his inconsiderate behavior as an excuse to stay in bed until lunch but deep down you knew it was pointless. The egotistic little bastard knew you had no choice since you two had a lot to discuss.

---

The breakfast, if not anything else, was rich and delicious, each bite tasty and mouth – watering. The sweet aroma of cinnamon tea, vanilla and powdered sugar filled your senses with ease and a little bit of nostalgia for your childhood. The hardest part was yet to come, you wanted to deal with it fast and go home as soon as possible. As for Arthur, it was the first time you saw him serious with his brows arched and his thoughts all over the place. The uneasiness came back with full force.

“I think you know what we want, princess.” The male declared sternly after looking at the map for a while. His eyes were blue and clear, piercing in the way they were focused on you and you alone with no one else in the hall to act as a barrier between you and the monster. You understood why it had to be only you two, but these deals were always an open secret in both kingdoms, so there weren’t many reasons to keep the tradition going. “We want our territory back. We want you to surrender.” The heir hissed eerily under his breath, his pupils fixed on your frame, burning the skin underneath the thick layer of rough fabric.

You didn’t know how to respond to this – the dynasty’s requests had always been ridiculous and far – fetched, but never as impossible as this one. Yes, your land used to belong to the East centuries ago, but after several long, bloody, sacrificial wars where many of your men lost their lives, it was won fair and square. Now all your subjects lived there happily and freely, rightfully so.

“Your Majesty, please don’t dwell on the past. It will never come back.” You responded shortly after, laughing nervously at the end, hoping that would be enough for Arthur to drop the subject. Unfortunately, this wasn’t the case.

“Is that so, dearest? You have two weeks then.” The prince said coldly, narrowing his eyes like a fox. You opened your mouth to speak but quickly got cut off. “Prepare your troops, train the soldiers, announce the incoming war to your people.” The man chuckled darkly and threw the map all the way across the room. “You better get ready for a thunderstorm.” He added just to mess with you some more, just to see your face turn white from the shock and the panic.

“You can’t do that!” You shouted out suddenly and stood up from your chair, feeling cornered and suffocated. You hated the prince’s constant teasing and flirty remarks but you would have never guess him to be a cold-blooded conqueror. “This is too cruel even for you!” You screamed, the tears already blooming down your cheeks, hot and wet. Arthur spared you one condescending look before moving closer and trapping your body against the table, towering over you both physically and metaphorically, as if saying “Let’s see who has the stronger mind.”

“I will get what I want no matter the cost and there is little you can do to stop me, princess.” The heir pronounced slowly, tilting your chin up so you had no choice but to meet his hard gaze, full of intense yet unreadable emotion. There was nothing left of the sly cheerful boy standing against your doorframe, teasing you about meaningless little things, and you almost missed him now. “But what you can do is stop the needless violence and bloodshed, Y/N.” You despised the way your eyes lit up at his words, but, as always, your duty was above your comfort and happiness. “What can I do?” You uttered quietly, a part of you too scared to hear the answer, the other anticipating it.

“Marry me.” The prince stated in a deep patronizing voice. His eyes were dark and sharp, just like before, and there wasn’t a trace of his usual gleeful smile. He grabbed your wrists in a painful grip and pulled them up, holding them against his broad shoulders. “We can unite the kingdoms and live our Happily Ever After. No one has to die.” The man whispered surprisingly softly, his chest heaving with each passing breath. “I can make you happy, dearest.”

You gasped in shock as soon as the proposal left his lips. Every fiber in your body was frozen still, your whole being shaken up by the unexpected offer.

“Why do you want to marry me?” You asked frantically, squirming to loosen up his grasp on your hands just to feel it tighten up even more. This was going to bruise for sure. “Isn’t it obvious?” The noble exhaled slowly, staring at you, trying desperately to find the compassion and affection he hoped you had grown to hold for him over the years. His heart broke once he realized there wasn’t any, but it didn’t matter. Feelings could change in a matter of minutes.

“I’ve loved you since day one, my princess.” His attention drifted to your open mouth, especially your soft full lips. Oh, how much he dreamt of taking you and relishing in the whines and moans you would surely let out once he decided to claim you as his own. “All I’ve ever wanted is you.” The heir confessed, his face moving closer and closer to your own, forcing you to arch your back more and more until it hit the table. Before you knew it, he was pinning you to the hard wooden surface, caging you in, kissing you violently, furiously. You couldn’t breathe.

You couldn’t say no.

[spidernerdsblog]

Hi 🙋‍♀️I have a request if u take them. Cud u write sth about Tom Holland x singer reader and the reader is performing at the Grammys or sth and the performance and song and costume is like really seggsy and Tom gets jealous??? Idk 🤷‍♀️ Sorry to bother u I just love your writing

Sorry this took me so long was at a lack of ideas. I strongly believe Taylor Swift’s reputation deserved a Grammy. So I'm borrowing her album for the reader. Hope you like this.

Pairing : Tom Holland x Singer! Reader

Warnings : angst, fluff, jealousy, suggestive theme, missed typos

Mini Playlist : Endgame by Taylor Swift, There’s nothing holding me back by Shawn Mendes

Baby I'm jealous

You and Tom were seated at the back when your limo pulled over at the venue. You could hear the commotion from the inside even though you have walked numerous red carpets by now but it still seems to be a little nerve racking to you. Especially when this is the first time Tom is accompanying you to the Grammys which is going to be a big deal for the media. The security personnel opened the door and as you stepped out of the car you were flooded with flashing lights from the cameras. 

Tom held out his hand for you, you slipped your arm into his and walked with a dazzling smile posing for the cameras “you look amazing, darling” he knelt down to whisper in your ear. In the meantime a lady journalist came forward to ask you a bunch of questions. 

“So Y/N three nominations this year, how are you feeling?” 

“Well it’s always good to be back here and share the stage with all these talented artists as usual I’m excited and looking forward to the night” you answered.

“We see you have brought company this year” she remarked which had you blushing.

“Yeah, I couldn't think of a better company than him on this very important occasion” you said bashfully tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Tom, what do you have to say?” she poses the question to him.

“Uhh I mean she has always been an incredible singer and her songs are the reason that made me fall in love with her in the first place” he replied looking proudly at you.

“Aww you both are adorable. Wish you the best” she said before leaving.

“Thank you so much” you thanked her, walking inside the auditorium and sat on your designated seats. There you were met with lots of your friends from the music industry as you said hi and chatted with them for a while.

“Hey Y/N how are you?!” you heard Shawn from behind as you turned around and went to eagerly hug him. You and Shawn were really good friends from the beginning of your career and you have always been supporting each other’s works.

“I’m good, how are you?” you chirped.

“I’m fine now” he remarked cheekily and went to sit beside you as you started talking catching up on each other totally ignoring Tom. To be honest he was a little annoyed seeing you so over friendly with him but he brushed off his thoughts quickly.

The show began and a few awards were distributed with some performances in between by different artists. You too had to perform for tonight which also included a duet with Shawn and soon your time came as you stood up from your seat to go backstage.

“Best of luck, love” Tom said to boost your confidence.

“Thanks babe” you kissed on his cheek lovingly.

“See you on the stage Y/N” Shawn snickered.

“Oh I’m looking forward to it” you blew him an air kiss and headed backstage to change into your stage outfit. The stage was set and you could hear the loud cheers of the audience from backstage. Truth to be told you always get a little nervous before any public concert but this time it was different because Tom sat there in the audience and you are more excited than nervous to perform. The lights went out and the screen doors slid open as you walked on the stage with the spotlight on you. The notes begin to play as you vocalize striding across the stage with oomph.

I wanna be your endgame

I wanna be your first string

I wanna be your A-Team

I wanna be your endgame, endgame

The crowd cheered as the supporting dancers slowly entered the stage. Tom sat amidst the crowd in awe witnessing you in your full glory. You owned the stage like a queen. He knew you were the prettiest woman he has ever met but the bodycon suit you were wearing accentuated your curves all at the right places.

Big reputation, big reputation

Ooh you and me we got big reputations, ah

And you heard about me, ooh

I got some big enemies

You waltzed around the stage with a sultry look in your eyes, slightly swaying your hips making the crowd go crazy. Tom was very good at keeping his emotions under check but when it comes to you he’s a possessive man so when he heard a few men from the crowd passing comments of how hot and sexy you looked he was fuming from inside. You went on to sing two more songs from your album then transitioned to Shawn’s latest single.

You take me places that tear up my reputation

Manipulate my decisions

Baby, there's nothing holdin' me back

“Make some noise for Shawn Mendes!” you cheered as he emerged from the backstage playing the chords on his guitar and the audience screamed at the top of their voice.

I wanna follow where she goes

I think about her and she knows it

I wanna let her take control

'Cause everytime that she gets close, yeah

He sang with his gaze directed at you which didn’t go unnoticed by Tom who was looking at you both with narrowed eyes and clenched jaws. 

She pulls me in enough to keep me guessing (mmm)

And maybe I should stop and start confessing

Confessing, yeah

You joined in singing along the lyrics with him exchanging flirtatious gestures with each other. You encouraged the audience to sing along with you.

Oh, I've been shaking

I love it when you go crazy

You take all my inhibitions

Baby, there's nothing holdin' me back

You take me places that tear up my reputation

Manipulate my decisions

Baby, there's nothing holdin' me back

There's nothing holdin' me back

There's nothing holdin' me back

You were clearly having a fun time sharing the stage with Shawn as you both swayed to the beat with a wide smile and the crowd cheered you on. Tom heard  someone saying “they make a good pair” and he completely lost it. Now he was jealous even though he knows it’s wrong because you had always made it clear that you loved him more than anything but you in that ravishing outfit dancing and singing being way too comfortable around each other wasn’t helping much. 

Your performance ended after some time and Tom couldn’t be anymore happier. You were back in the audience again as Shawn couldn’t stop praising you “you just set the stage on fire Y/N! It was awesome”

“Oh shut up! You weren’t bad either” you quipped. Tom sat there silently feeling neglected at how you had time to talk with everyone except him. The show ended with you winning the three categories you were nominated for : album of the year, song of the year and artist of the year. You were elated at your achievements as your team escorted you for a photo session. You saw Tom standing at a distance and walked over to him.

“Why are you standing here? Come and stand with me” you said, grabbing his arm.

“No I’m better off standing here rather than being your arm candy” he says bitterly pulling out his arm from your hold.

“What?!” you were slightly taken aback as you looked at him in confusion.

“Hey Y/N!” your manager called out.

“Just a moment!” you told him to wait and dragged Tom to a corner.

“What the hell was that back there?” you hissed at him.

“You know it very well” you shrugged with a disinterested look on his face.

“I-I really don’t understand where this is coming from Tom but are you upset with something?” you were really concerned with his sudden outburst.

“Well isn’t that obvious? When your girlfriend brings you to a public event to treat you like a sidepiece and goes on flirting with her colleagues on stage it is naturally upsetting” he jabbed at you.  

“Are you even listening to what you are saying Tom? Everyone here are my work friends just like you have” you retorted in a hushed tone.

“Well it looked more than just friends” he bit back.

“Now you’re being ridiculous” you were totally done with him, fuming at his accusation.

“Y/N come fast!” your manager called you again.

“Yeah coming!” you replied and turned to Tom again “you know what it was actually my fault that I brought you along with me. I thought we were ready to take the next step in our relationship but it clearly doesn’t look like that” you snapped at him and walked back to have your pictures taken. You were stopped by various people, for interviews as well as to congratulate you for your win but you were so annoyed with Tom you couldn’t concentrate properly.

Towards the end of the night, you had almost forgotten about Tom’s comments as you busied yourself into conversations with different people from the industry, sipping on champagne. 

As soon as he cooled down Tom was quick to realize his mistake and tried to approach you several times, but you successfully ignored him by preoccupying yourself elsewhere. He eventually caught up to you, grabbing your arm before you could walk away “Y/N, please. Can we just talk for a second?”

“No I don’t think so because I’m quite busy flirting with each and every guy over here” you snapped, turning to walk away. He grabbed your arm again, “Y/N, c’mon love, I’m really sorry” he whined.

You whipped around “not now Tom. We will talk after we get out of here so if you will excuse me” saying so you walked away to be stopped by a reporter for another interview. The after party ended an hour as you and Tom exited the place. You climbed into the limo, quickly putting up the privacy window. Tom climbed in after you, taking a seat glancing at you.

“What?” you scowled, crossing your arms over your chest. You could tell he was really upset with what he’d said earlier. 

“Y/N.. I can't even explain how sorry I am” he started “I know I was being a dick back there and I feel terrible about it”

You leaned back in your seat sighing “you know what, I'm really tired. Can we talk about this after we reach home?” He nodded silently in agreement without uttering a single word on the drive back.

Once you got home, you walked through the living room and made your way into your shared bedroom. You sat on the bed taking off your heels and massaged your ankles. After sometime Tom joined you in the bedroom. He takes off his suit jacket and loosens his tie as you stare at him for a second. He looked so good in formal attire which filled your head with filthy thoughts. How you could have celebrated your win in a different way but he had to ruin it by acting out like that.

“Y/N, I truly am sorry. I.. I have no excuse for my behavior. It was completely my fault” he walked over to you, sitting next to you on the bed.

You sighed deeply and stood up walking over to your walk in closet. Your hands went to your back to reach out to the zipper of your dress “I really didn’t expect this from you at least. Of all the people I thought you would understand since you are in the same line of work” you said with disappointment clear in your voice. Tom hung his head low in shame.

“I know babe it was rude and totally uncalled for. I was a fucking idiot and let my insecurities get the best of me” he said with remorse.

“Then just think about how I feel when I have to watch you making out with other women on screen. I never said anything to you. Instead I always supported you and you on the other hand questioned our relationship just because I was singing and dancing with someone else who happens to be a very good friend of mine” you ranted still struggling with the zipper of your dress “a little help please?” you huffed slightly irritated and angry.

Tom bit back a smile as he walked over to you and helped you unzip your dress. He took your hands in his and pecked on them gently “I didn't mean to ruin the night for you” he apologized, looking down at your hands.

You pulled out your hands and crossed your arms “well it wasn’t that bad given that I won three Grammys but I wished you were there by my side” you said completely forgetting that you were standing there in just your strapless bra and very tiny pair of lace underwear.

Tom was eyeing you the whole time with a known smirk plastered on his face. You noticed that and looked down at yourself “oh, c’mon. I’m trying to have a serious conversation here!” you scoffed, throwing your hands in the air. You shook your head in annoyance and grabbed the black silk robe, tying it around your body.

Tom was broken out of his trance as he walked over to you, placing a hand on your cheek “Y/N believe me I’m really sorry. I wish I could take back all the horrible things I said to you. You didn’t deserve any of it. Sorry for being such a jerk to you”

Your expression softened as you held his hand gently “well I’m glad to hear that. And even if I try I can’t stay mad at you for a longtime so apology accepted” you said with a smile. 

“Thank you darling it would never happen again I promise” he says stroking his thumb on your cheek bone as he leaned in, pressing a kiss to your lips “and I mean it” he stated a hand reaching up to untie your robe as your robe fell open, your breath hitched “though it was slightly your fault too, how do you expect me to not get jealous seeing you with someone else looking so bloody gorgeous in that outfit?” he hooked his index finger under the silk on your shoulder, pulling the robe down slowly, leaving a trail of goosebumps on your skin “but I’m really sorry” he whispers in a husky tone. 

“Then prove it” you looked at him challengingly, a smirk tugged at the corner of your lips. Without any further delay Tom crashed his lips to yours effortlessly lifting you up by your thighs as you wrapped your legs around his waist.

...........................................................

Reblogs are appreciated ❤️

[queensoybean0724]

Succession Chapter 1 (Karl Heisenberg/female reader) Resident Evil Village fic

Here is chapter one of my new fanfic!

Title: Succession

Characters: Karl Heisenberg, female reader, OCs

Rating: PG-13 for language and intense scenes (for now, this is a slow burn, but it will get very hot and spicy in later chapters)

Summary: You discover a long lost relative from Moldova that you didn’t know existed has died and you are his sole beneficiary.  You are on board a plane to collect your inheritance when your plane crashes in a village in Romania.

Author’s Notes: I do not own the characters from Resident Evil Village.  This is a work of fiction.  Anything remotely similar to anyone living or dead is purely coincidental.

Chapter 1

The music blasted from the car speakers as you drove down the main road towards the highway.  You had your phone plugged into your car stereo, your favorite Spotify playlist on shuffle.  Despite the A/C being on full blast, beads of sweat formed at your brow and rolled down your temple.  You adjusted the vents on either side of you, making sure the cold air directly hit your body.  The song that was playing had you tapping your fingers on the steering wheel, your head bopping to the beat.

The fridge at home was close to empty and it was beyond time for you to go grocery shopping.  The grocery list was secure in your purse and you were determined to stick to the items on the list and not make any frivolous purchases.  Money was tight and you only had so much money left before payday next week.

The song shut off suddenly followed by your ringtone.  Looking at the screen of your phone, UNKNOWN stared back at you. Probably a spam call, you thought to yourself, reaching to press the red Ignore button.  Unfortunately, your finger slid at the last minute and mistakenly tapped the Accept button. You watched as the call came through and the seconds ticked off.  FUCK!

“Hello?” you greeted with a hint of exasperation in your voice.

“Hello, am I speaking with Miss Y/N?” a heavily accented male voice responded.

“Yeah, this is she,” you muttered, rolling your eyes.  You tried your best to avoid these calls, ignoring them and letting them go straight to voicemail.  Very rarely was it followed with an actual message, which was more than fine with you.

“Miss Y/N, my name is Ron M. Dathermi.  I am a lawyer residing in Chisinau, Moldova in Eastern Europe…”

You raised your eyebrows at that.  Moldova?  Who the hell was calling you from Moldova?  Chalking it up to a scam, you were about to interrupt the man when he continued.

“...I wish I was calling under better circumstances, but I’m afraid I have some bad news.  Your great uncle, Serghei Popa, has passed away from a short illness and has named you his sole beneficiary…”

You couldn’t help the amused huff that came out of your mouth.  This must be some very elaborate scam.

“Umm...sorry, but I think you have the wrong person.  I don’t have family from Moldova and I have never heard of this man in my whole life.” You were about to hit the End button when Mr. Dathermi continued.

“Am I speaking with Y/N, born on (your birthday) to (your father and mother’s full names) and the granddaughter of (your grandfather and grandmother on both sides of your family)?”

Your eyes widened at that.  “Yeah, that’s me…” you answered.

“I know this may sound unusual, but Mr. Popa was the brother of your grandmother on your mother’s side.  He was given up for adoption at birth and taken in by a Moldovan family.  He did not have a spouse and had no children, and according to the genealogy report I have before me, your grandmother and your mother are both deceased.  Your mother was an only child, yes?  It appears to me that you are the last of his living relatives.”

You pulled off the road and into an empty parking lot.  The information you were being given was a lot to handle.  You didn’t have that large of a family.  You were an only child and raised by your parents and both sets of grandparents.  Both of your grandfathers had died before you turned 10.  Both grandmothers died within 5 years of each other and your father and mother died of illnesses, cancer and pneumonia respectively, in the last year.  Grief was a feeling that you knew better than anyone.  You kept to yourself mostly and you didn’t have any close friends or a significant other.

“Listen,” you began, “you are correct about all of your information, but how do I know this is not some kind of scam?”

The man on the other end of the phone cleared his throat and the sound of shuffling papers met your ears.  “I can imagine that this information is sudden and unusual.  What I will do is send a copy of his will and a copy of the genealogy papers to your address.  I encourage you to take this to your lawyer and have them look over the information.  The reason I am calling is because I need you to fly to Moldova, sign these papers, and accept the monetary inheritance that he has left you.”

Your jaw dropped as you looked down at your phone.  Fly to Moldova?  Is this true?  The only thing you knew about the country was that a foreign exchange student from high school was born and raised in Moldova.  That about sums up your knowledge of the country. This seemed incredibly asinine and ridiculous.  But the word that settled in your train of thought was “inheritance.” What inheritance?

“Mr...what was your name again?” you asked.

“Mr. Dathermi, but you can call me Ron,” the lawyer responded.

“Ron...umm, how much monetary inheritance are we talking about?”

More shuffling of papers was on the other side of the phone, Ron clicking his tongue as he looked through the information.  “He has left you 53,806,746 Moldovan Leu...which translates to $3,000,000 in American currency.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?!?!” you exclaimed before clamping your lips shut.  You heard Ron chuckle.  “I’m sorry, pardon my language. It’s just...wow...this sounds insane…”

“I can imagine it does,” Ron replied, “which is why I want to mail this information to you and have your attorney take a look at it so you know this is a legitimate will and testament.  If you would like, I can mail the information straight to your attorney if you are still leery.”

“No, no, that’s okay,” you said, shaking your head.  Your mind was whirling.  None of this sounded remotely true.  You felt as if you were dreaming.  This felt like something that only happened in books and fairy tales...a girl who had nothing and nobody suddenly inheriting millions of dollars from an unknown distant relative.  What are the odds of something like this happening in real life?  You gave Ron Dathermi your home address.

“Thank you very much, Miss Y/N.  I will send this as soon as possible.  I’ll also include my business card so your attorney can contact me and we can iron out the details.  Thank you very much, Y/N...I’ll be in touch.”

You thanked him as well and ended the call.  All alone in your car in the empty parking lot, you let out an excited squeal and started hopping up and down.

*

You adjusted the messenger bag that was slung across your shoulder as you heard the overhead speaker call for the boarding of your flight.  Taking a deep breath, you got in line, extended your ticket to the airport employee, and walked down the tarmac and into the plane.

Butterflies were fluttering in your stomach.  Your hands gripped your bag tightly as the flight attendant looked at your boarding pass and pointed down the aisle to where you were to be seated.  You had never flown before and your nerves were on alert.  Scenes from Final Destination flashed in your head as you walked down the aisle towards your seat.  Taking a deep breath and willing your body to relax, you located your seat next to the window and sat down, plopping your bag onto your lap.  

The small window was close to the wing of the plane and looking beyond that was a long expanse of grass that met a vast forest.  You were thankful that you had the window seat and your headphones so you could tune everything out and relax in your own little world.

Once the papers from Mr. Dathermi arrived a week prior, you immediately called the attorney that helped you with the probate and will from your parents’ deaths several months back.  He was more than happy to help, knowing that you were all alone in the world after your parents had passed.  Two days later, he called to inform you that all of the paperwork was, in fact, legitimate and that Mr. Serghei Popa was the brother of your grandmother.  He showed you the adoption papers, confirming that your great uncle had been put up for adoption and the family that took him in had relocated to Moldova when he was two years old.  He had remained in the country until his death.  Your attorney contacted Mr. Dathermi, who in turn secured a round trip plane ticket in order for you to come to Moldova to finalize the paperwork and collect the inheritance.

At the thought of the money you were about to acquire, another surge of excitement flowed through you.  Your parents hadn’t left you much after their death and you worked at a dead-end job that had no room for advancement and no possibility for raises.  All of these recent events sounded like something out of a fairy tale.

“This is your captain speaking,” the voice sounded from the speaker above your head, “we will be departing in the next ten minutes.  Please make sure your seatbelts are secured, your tray tables are up, and all electronics are off until we are at the appropriate cruising altitude.  I will inform everyone as soon as the coast is clear.  Thank you for flying with us and enjoy the ride.”

You fastened your seatbelt and laid your head back, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath.

“Don’t be nervous…” a voice sounded next to you.  You opened your eyes and looked over to see an older gentleman with wide rimmed glasses and a nice smile.

“Is it that obvious?” you asked, returning his smile.

“It’s pretty obvious,” he chuckled, “my name is Bruce Williams.  I’m the air marshal on board this flight.” You told him your name and shook his hand. “Just relax,” he assured, “we’ll be flying for the next 10 hours.  There are lots of movies and tv shows to watch on the screen in front of you, or you can listen to your music and read a book if you brought one.”

You patted your messenger bag.  “Yeah, I have a few books to choose from.  Thanks,” you smiled.

Within minutes, the plane had backed away from the tarmac, turned towards the long expanse of runway, and increased speed before leaving the ground and soaring up into the clouds.

*

The steady hum of the plane’s engines provided a relaxed soundtrack as you slept.  It was close to early morning, according to the clock on the tv screen, but your watch was still on your regular time zone.  It read early afternoon and that threw you through a loop.  You had heard that jet lag could be a bitch and you wondered how bad yours would be once you landed.  Bruce had passed you a pillow and blanket once you were ready to sleep and he assured you that your bag and belongings would be safe while you slept.

You were so thankful to be seated next to him.  Not only was he the air marshal, but he was a really cool person as well.  You two talked about movies and actually watched a couple of them on the tv screen in front of you.  Bruce was kind and nice to talk to.  The crinkle of crow’s feet around his eyes, his laugh, and his hair color mixed with hints of gray reminded you of your father...maybe that’s why you liked him so much.

You shifted in your seat and let out a soft yawn.  Stretching your arms above your head and arching your back, you wondered how much longer it would be until you touched down in Moldova.

“You weren’t asleep that long,” Bruce murmured.  You looked over to see a book in his hand and his glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose.

“I’m gonna go to the bathroom and then go back to sleep,” you replied, standing from your seat.  Bruce stood up and allowed you out into the aisle.  You made your way to the bathroom towards the back of the plane.  The cabin was dark with little lights dotting either side of the aisle on the floor. Soft lights were shining here and there from people reading, watching the tv screen, or messing with their phones while most of the passengers were asleep.

Once in the bathroom, you did your business, flushed the toilet, and began washing your hands.  The mirror in front of you showed a tired and weary version of yourself.  Some of your eye makeup was smudged.  You told yourself once  you returned back to your seat, you’d retrieve the makeup remover wipes in your bag and do away with the dirt and oil.

Just then the plane hit an air pocket and dropped several feet, throwing  you forward towards the sink and mirror.  You let out a shriek as the plane quieted and went still.  “God dammit,” you muttered, putting your hand over your heart, “that scared the shit out of me!”

Once out of the bathroom, you slammed the door shut and walked back to your seat.  You tapped Bruce on the shoulder and he moved aside.

You lifted the window shade and looked outside.  Natural light from the start of the day began to show.  The plane was amongst the clouds so it was fairly cloudy and hard to see.

“How much farther do we have?” you asked Bruce.  He shifted the book to his left hand and looked down at his wristwatch.  “We should be there in three hours.  I think we are flying over Romania right now…”

You nodded your head and thanked him, turning back to the window.  The clouds gave way momentarily and provided the opportunity to see the ground below.  Tall, snowy mountains came into view.  You smiled and marveled at their beauty, wondering what mountain range this was.  You cursed yourself for forgetting the basics from your World Geography class in high school.  Hell, all you knew about Romania was that it was the setting for Dracula and the real life territory that was once owned by Elizabeth Bathory, who allegedly killed upwards of 650 maidens and bathed in their blood.  You shook your head and smiled to yourself.  You really did enjoy some morbid and fucked up stories.

Your train of thought stopped short when a large and spacious castle came into view.  Your eyes widened and your jaw dropped.  It looked like something out of a Disney movie or from ancient castles that still sat throughout Europe.  The place looked like it stood on several acres of land and who knows how many square feet.  What a gorgeous and breathtaking place it was.  You wondered just what was inside a monstrosity like that and who was lucky enough to inhabit such a place.  Maybe there were castles in Moldova that you could explore and visit while you’re conducting your business.

The castle fell out of view and not far from it stood what looked like a village.  You were too high up to see any people or any traces of lights or torches.  You took everything in with total awe and appreciation.  It looked like a small and sleepy storybook town.

A sudden movement close to the village caught your attention.  You squinted your eyes and tried to look closer, pressing your forehead to the window.  What the fuck is that, you wondered.  It looked like a black tree, naked of leaves or any type of growth...and it was moving.  It looked to be swaying in the breeze, but the size of it looked way too sturdy for any kind of gust to move it with such fluidity.  As you focused on the tree, it appeared to be growing...getting closer to the plane.  Was the plane descending?  Were you getting closer to Moldova?

One of the branches of the tree slowly drifted to the ground before extending long and rigid, slinging itself up into the air like a bullwhip, hitting the wing of the plane.  The plane suddenly tilted as the slithering limb wrapped around the wing and broke it off.  You let out a loud scream as the plane turned on its side, Bruce falling against you, squishing you to the wall.  “WHAT THE FUCK??” Bruce screamed as yelps, shrieks, and screams echoed in the cabin of the plane.  Dozens of people were knocked from their seats, flight attendants falling into the aisle and rolling towards the cockpit.  The plane shook and quaked as it dropped several feet in a matter of seconds.

“OH MY GOD! OH MY GOD!” you screamed, grabbing hold of Bruce’s arm.  The air masks dropped from overhead and Bruce grabbed yours, making quick work of putting it over your face.  “HOLD ON TO IT! HOLD IT OVER YOUR MOUTH, Y/N!!” he commanded, reaching for his own mask.

“THE WING OF THE PLANE HAS BEEN DAMAGED!” the pilot yelled from over the speakers, “WE ARE LOSING ALTITUDE! BRACE FOR IMPACT!”  People screamed and panicked, holding on to whatever it was they could.  Panic surged through your body as your fingers dug into Bruce’s arm.  The plane shook as it fell.  Your stomach dropped and it felt as if you were seconds from impact.  You looked out the window one last time before the ground came into view and everything went black.

*

He leaned over the body on the metal table in the lab of his factory.  He fastened the bolts with a wrench and tested the strength of the metal against the rotting flesh.  A soft horn sounded in the distance along with the various turns of chains and clangs of steel against steel.  He wiped the sweat off his brow and walked to his desk, looking over the blueprints and sketches he had devised the previous day.

Despite the different array of sounds, nothing could mask the loud crash that sounded off in the distance.  He lifted his head, silently trying to figure out what the fuck made that noise.  Leaving the body laying on the table, he exited his lab and made his way down the stairs and to the factory doors.  

With a grunt, he slid the doors aside and looked off into the distance.  Black smoke billowed from an area that looked to be close to the village.  Other than the crows squawking and flapping their wings in retreat, everything was dead quiet.  He looked off to the right just in time to see the long, spindly limbs of mold retreating back towards the earth.  Karl Heisenberg’s face tightened in a disgusted grimace.

“Mother Miranda...what have you done?”

[secretkeeper13]

Wannabe

Summary:  The Sixth Year Gryffindor boys discover the Spice Girls, but Harry only wants to be Ginny’s lover.

Yes, you read that right. This fluffy, kind-of-crack HBP missing moment was born from a conversation in the Hinny Discord (and my 90s tween years). 

Content warning: If you aren’t into wank jokes, teenage boys shamelessly ogling pop icons, unfiltered Ron, and don’t agree that Sporty was the least attractive Spice Girl (apologies, Mel C), then this may not be the fic for you ;)

Since historical accuracy is paramount to this story (sarcasm), the magazine referenced in the fic is the March 1997 issue of The Face. Google it if you want to see the cover and photos (you know you want to).

Thank you @thedistantdusk, beta supreme, for editing and always encouraging my ridiculousness ;)  Happy Thursday!

Read it below the cut, or on Ao3.

Harry flopped onto his bed, tired but pleased with how well the team was flying. At this rate, they’d have a fighting chance to win the cup against Ravenclaw, especially now that Katie was back. It’d been their best practice yet, although he’d been repeatedly distracted by Ginny, laughing at her antics, admiring the way her eyes blazed with determination just before she scored a goal, trying not to stare at her arse as she bent low over her broomstick.

“What’s that?” Ron said, jolting Harry from his thoughts.

Ron looked across the dormitory at Seamus, who sat on his bed staring intently at a magazine with Dean looking over his shoulder.

“See for yourself, mate.” Seamus smirked, holding up the magazine to reveal the cover, a Muggle photograph of five girls, all scantily clad in lingerie and extremely fit.

Harry sat up immediately for a better look. Even Neville, from his bed next to Harry’s, had his eyes glued to the cover.

Ron let out a low whistle. “Where’d you get that?” he asked, clamoring across the room to stand next to Seamus for a better look.

“Took it from my little sister over Easter hols and brought it back for Seamus,” Dean said, grinning. “Thought he’d appreciate it.”

“What’s your little sister doing with something like this?”

“Not what you’ll be doing with it later, that’s for sure,” Seamus said, making a rude hand gesture. Ron flipped him off as the rest of them laughed.

“They’re the Spice Girls,” Dean explained. “A Muggle singing group. All the girls are obsessed with them right now. Girl Power, you know?”

Harry didn’t know, but he decided he would very much like to find out as he walked over for a closer look.

“Fuck, they’re fit,” Ron said, looking over Seamus’ shoulder at the cover of the magazine.

Harry had to agree. There was a perky, smiling blonde, two brunettes in the middle with dark, shiny hair and sultry gazes, a redhead with great tits next to them, and a pretty girl with wild curls and tanned skin posed seated at their feet.

“And this is just the cover, wait ‘til you see the photos inside.” Seamus said, waggling an eyebrow.

“They’re everywhere right now- can’t turn on the radio without hearing their songs- they’re all over the telly too,” Dean said, as the rest of them continued to stare at the cover. “They go by nicknames, and the girls all have favorites.”

Dean pointed to the blonde. “This one’s Baby, there’s Sporty on her other side. The redhead is Ginger-“

“Original, that one,” Harry said dryly, and the others laughed.

Dean continued as the laughter subsided. “The one next to her with that stuck up look is Posh, and the one sitting down is Scary- she’s my sister’s favorite. I’m with her on that one.” He finished with a wink.

“Reckon Scary’s my favorite too,” Seamus said, his tone thick with bravado.

“No way,” Ron said, indignant, “that Posh one, she’s the fittest. Look at her legs.”

“Nah, she’s a bit too high and mighty. She looks like she’d always be telling you what to do,” Dean said.

“Just Ron’s type then,” Seamus quipped.

Dean and Seamus roared with laughter. Out of loyalty, Harry tried (but failed) to suppress his own laughter, his shoulders shaking with mirth.

“Oh, fuck off,” Ron replied, the tips of his ears red.

“What’s The Chosen One’s choice?” Seamus asked, turning to Harry.

Harry rolled his eyes. “I’d go with Ginger.”

“Oooooh, Harry picks the redhead,” Seamus said, eyebrow raised, exchanging a pointed look with Dean.

“Got a thing for gingers, do you then?”

Shit. Panic that his casual admission might reveal his most private, fiercely-guarded feelings about Ginny began to overtake him.

“Didn’t pick her for her hair color, mate,” Harry retorted, trying to sound flippant, as he gestured to her tits.

Seamus laughed and slapped Harry’s shoulder. Harry breathed a small sigh of relief, hoping that he hadn’t just made the fact that he fancied Ginny completely obvious. In truth, the girl did remind him a bit of Ginny- not just her hair color, but her build too, and something about the way she carried herself in the photo. He tried not to blush, though heat rushed to his cheeks. He stole a glance at Ron who, thankfully, was still gaping at the magazine and not paying attention to the exchange.  

“What’s your vote, then, Nev?” Seamus asked.

Neville, standing next to Harry, his cheeks already pink, looked startled to be included. “Erm, she looks nice,” he said softly, motioning towards the blonde, “but they’re all good looking, really,” he added, his round face now flaming scarlet.

“Nobody for Sporty then?” Dean asked, laughing.

“Nah, who's picking Sporty over any of those four?” Ron said bluntly. “Let’s see what’s inside, then.”

The photo spread inside the magazine did not disappoint, Harry thought, taking in the individual, full body photos of each girl in very suggestive poses.

“Damn,” Ron said appreciatively.

“Told you it was good.”

The dormitory grew quiet for a moment as Seamus flipped through the pages.

“Wait,” said Ron, pointing to a line in the article, “This says the lyrics to their hit song are ‘If you wannabe my lover, you gotta get with my friends.’ Really?”

“Are you actually reading the article, mate? That’s impressive,” Harry said wryly.

“It’s true- heard it a million times over Easter break, that bloody song’s on the radio every other minute,” Dean replied.

“Well, it’s fucking terrible advice. What girl wants you getting with her friends?” Ron said.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door.

“Ron,” a voice called. Harry realized instantly that it was Ginny.

Fuck. Seamus shoved the magazine under the duvet as the rest of them scrambled to disperse, Neville tripping over his own feet, Ron hitting his head on the top of the bedpost as he ducked to sit on his bed.

“Come in,” Ron called.

Ginny opened the door and leaned on the side of the doorframe. She looked unfairly beautiful, Harry thought, her cheeks still rosy from practice, her long hair loose and flowing down her back, ending just above the swell of her arse, which looked fantastic in her tight joggers.

Her eyes narrowed as she took in the scene. The five of them had each ended up on their respective beds, fully dressed, shoes and all, with no books or parchment in sight. It must’ve looked strange.

She quirked an eyebrow. “You five having a cosy little chat?”

Neville chuckled nervously. Seamus coughed. Ron’s ears turned red. Dean stared at the duvet, determined to avoid her gaze, probably for a variety of reasons, Harry thought.

Ginny shook her head slightly. “Never mind, I’m sure I don’t even want to know,” she said, grinning at Harry. His cheeks grew warm, and he gave a slight shrug back.  

She turned to Ron, her tone more serious. “Hermione asked me to get you. The Second Years were playing Exploding Snap at a table in the common room, and the explosion blew up some inkwells. There’s ink all over everything. She needs your help cleaning off the boys. Euan Abercrombie’s covered head to toe in it.”

“Little idiots,” Ron said, rolling his eyes. He stood and walked past Ginny onto the spiral staircase.

“Great practice, Harry,” Ginny said. She beamed at him, her smile brilliant, and in that moment, he wished, more than anything, that they were alone in the dormitory, instead of awkwardly surrounded by her (very recent) ex, Seamus, and Neville.

“You too. We’re going to flatten them,” he managed, hoping he didn’t sound like his breath was caught in his throat, which it was.

She just winked back. His heart, already fluttering faster than the wings of a snitch, skipped a beat.  “Night all,” she said, with a wave to Neville.

As she closed the door, Harry sank back onto his pillows, thinking only of Ginny, the magazine long forgotten.

[wrenhyperfixates]

We Make a Pretty Good Team

Pairing: Loki x reader Summary: It’s game night at the Avengers Tower, and you find the perfect partner in Loki. Warnings: ‘tis but fluff A/N: Just another self-indulgent, fluffy story. Hope you enjoy :)

Tag List: @lucywrites02​​ @frostedgiant​​ @lunarmoon8​​ @twhiddlestonsstuff​​ @lokistan​​ @lowkeyorlokificrecs​​ @gaitwae​​ @whatafuckingdumbass​​ @castiels-majestic-wings​​ @kozkaboi​​ @cozy-the-overlord​​ @birdgirl90​​ @myraiswack​​

Disclaimer: Gif not mine 

“First Saturday of the month. You know what that means,” Tony hollered to the Avengers scattered about the Tower.

“Yes!” Thor boomed. “Be prepared to lose.”

“Funny,” Clint laughed with a roll of his eyes. “I was just about to say the same thing to you.”

“What is happening?” you asked, somewhat bewildered, as the heroes came into the room. “What’s significant about Saturday?”

“Oh my gosh, that’s right. You just missed the last one. Every first Saturday of the month we have a game night,” Nat explained.

You’d been part of the team for just under a month, having officially joined on a Sunday. So, it was true that you’d yet to experience their apparently traditional game night. It sounded like a great deal of fun, though, especially because the Avengers had become your second family in the short time you’d known them. Well, you’d actually known Nat and Clint for years, since you all worked for SHIELD. In fact, they were a huge part of the reason you were an Avenger now. A few months ago there was a particularly dangerous crime ring, and they’d specifically requested you as backup. You’d clicked with everyone immediately and, numerous transfer papers later, here you were.

“Sounds exciting!” you told them. “What are we playing first?”

“Well actually,” Bruce said kind of sheepishly, “it’s not that I want you to sit out, but they’re all team games, and we don’t have an even number of people.”

“So we have a team of three,” Nat said, as if it were obvious.

“No way. That’s unfair,” Tony argued.

You bit your lip, feeling like maybe you were intruding on something you shouldn’t be a part of. It was their thing, after all, and perhaps there was simply no room for a newcomer. As they continued to bicker about whether one larger team mattered or not, you considered just slipping away. That’s when you noticed that there was someone missing.

“What about Loki?” you said. “He would make the numbers even.”

Much to your surprise, everyone burst out laughing. You nervously ran your sweaty palms on the legs of your pants and let out a small laugh, though you weren’t quite sure at what. Once their cackling died down, you dared to ask what was so funny.

“My brother never attends these games nights,” Thor informed you. “He isn’t one for group activities, as I’m sure you’ve noticed.”

“Well, have you ever invited him?”

“Once or twice,” Tony said. “Listen, if you want to try to make a social butterfly out of Reindeer Games, be my guest. In the meantime, we’ll work out a feasible way for us all to play.”

You rolled your eyes and scoffed a little, standing up to go find Loki. It was honestly ridiculous that they still treated him the way they did. Sure, he likes to be alone sometimes, but that doesn’t mean he likes being lonely. Not that he’d ever actually admitted to you that he was, but you knew. It was blatantly obvious in the way he sent longing glances toward the rest of the team when you gathered together. You always made sure to ask him over, an invitation he usually accepted. Everyone else had laughed the first time you’d done that, too. They’d only ever asked him a few times, and it was right when he was new and still so lost, so alone, so afraid. Why they took that to just be his permanent disposition, you didn’t know. Regardless of how insensitive they were to his situation, your inclusivity had brought Loki out of his shell a bit, and a friendship had blossomed between you.

A short walk later, you reached his door. You stretched out a hand, but hesitated to knock. Doubt gnawed at the back of your mind. Maybe he truly was not a fan of board games, and then you’d be interrupting his night. After all, he must have a tradition of his own if this happens every first Saturday. Still, you knew that was usually not the case, and steeled yourself against the uncertainty.

“Hello, my little mortal,” he greeted you, opening the door. “Is everything alright?”

“No.”

“What is it? Are you ill? Hurt?” he questioned, jumping into action and shepherding you to his couch.

“No, nothing like that,” you laughed, though you were touched by his concern. “It’s just that it’s game night, and we don’t have an even number of people.”

“Oh? And I suppose that you are asking me to join,” he mused as you nodded. “I am not usually invited, and I am notorious spoiled sport, just ask Thor.”

“Well, people say a lot of things about you, and they’re usually not true.” He shrugged his shoulders. “You don’t have to play if you really don’t want to, but will you? Please. For me?”

“For you, my little mortal, anything. After all, how can I resist those puppy dog eyes?”

You giggled and led the way out of his room, ignoring the thumping of your heart when his hand accidentally brushed yours. Nat and Tony were still bickering about the teams when you arrived, but were quickly stunned into silence when they saw Loki.

“Brother! Good to see you’ve decided to join,” Thor greeted, breaking the somewhat awkward silence. “Shall we begin then?”

First up was Cranium, and you could tell that everyone else was divided into their usual teams: Tony and Bruce, Clint and Nat, Thor and Steve. You rubbed your hands in excitement, ready for some friendly competition.

“Yes!” you shouted a while later, after you and Loki answered the final question right. “We win!”

Everyone else’s jaw hung open, shocked by how serious of a competitor you were. Not to say you were mean-spirited or gloated or anything, but it was obvious you took game night very seriously. Loki was a little surprised too, but he relished in the infectious energy of your feisty spirit. Not to mention he absolutely loved to be on the winning team.

“Congratulations, guys,” Steve said. “Don’t expect to get as lucky in the next game, though.”

The next game, apparently, was charades, which you and Loki absolutely dominated again. The two of you worked as a well-oiled machine, guessing the simple ones like sewing and the more obscure ones like whale watching with ease. Loki was also surprisingly knowledgeable about Midgardian movies and literature. The two of you high fived, having just edged out the competition.

“Wow, good job guys,” Nat congratulated. “Tony and Bruce usually win that one.”

“Way to rub it in,” Tony groaned, flopping back on the couch.

You could tell a part of him wanted to accuse Loki of cheating but, having no real evidence and not wanting to start a fight, restrained himself. Instead, he contented himself with just mumbling how much of an outrage it was. You, however, were on cloud nine.

As the next game was set up, Loki pulled you onto his lap, instilled with confidence after his latest wins. Of course, if anyone were to ask, he would just say he was saving room on the couch. It would have, though, been a lie.

“Ready for a clean sweep, my little mortal?” he whispered, his breath surprising cold on your ear.

“Bring it on!” you whispered back with a wink.

The last game of the night was Pictionary, and by now everyone knew you and Loki were the team to beat. Unfortunately for them, you got this win, too. The Avengers let out a collective sigh as you shouted a victorious whoop and hugged Loki.

“Good game everyone,” you said, starting to help clean up.

“What are you doing, my little mortal?” Loki questioned, half joking. “Do you not know the losers have to clean up?”

“Not sure that’s actually a rule, Rock of Ages,” Tony grumbled.

“Fine, I’ll help,” he replied, placing a singular piece back in the box. “There. Now it is time for our victory lap.”

Then he scooped you up bridal style using his superhuman strength and began running you around the Tower in his arms, both laughing the whole time. He finally brought you to a stop on the balcony of his room.

“You’re ridiculous, you know that right?” you said, still chuckling.

“Perhaps. But we deserved that after an excellent showing.”

“I guess so. As much as it pains me to admit it, we should probably go easy on them next time. We’ll just win one a night, ok?”

“That’s my little mortal,” he happily sighed, wrapping his arms around you. “Always looking out for others. Always looking out for me. Thank you for inviting me along tonight.”

“No problem. It was a lot of fun. We make a pretty good team.”

“Indeed.”

A comfortable silence settled between you, and you rested against Loki, whose arms were still wrapped around you. He felt more relaxed and happy than he had in a while. He knew he’d ask you out someday, but right now he was still too shy, this friendship still too new. One day he would, though, and he couldn’t wait to get there and to every day after.

[h0rnyshakespeare]

could you do a fantasy au with bakugou as a kitsune? you’ve just recently moved into a cottage in the woods to get away from your previous life, when you stubble across baku in a trap surrounded by hunters! you of course aren’t going to let some assholes hurt an innocent creature, so you devise a plan to get him free. you draw the hunter’s attention away from the caged baku, causing them to run off. you then get to baku, and are able to free him. though a slight problem, the hunters are coming back, and they see you messing with their ‘find.’ while you’re frozen in place, baku literally picks you up, and jumps into the trees, evading gunshots. he keeps you there until the hunters go away.

after all this drama, you start hanging out with the kitsune more and more. you two get closer as time goes on, and bakugou becomes more and more infatuated and protective of you. he’s touchier, softer, and overall more gentle with you. he even lets you touch his ears and tail. everything is all well and good when oh no, the hunters are back, and they’re out for revenge. while you’re at the cottage, they ransack your home, chasing you out into the woods. you’re sprinting, calling for bakugou as the hunters are gaining. just then, none other than the fox himself jumps in and beats the absolute shit outta the hunters. he then turns to you, worry as well as rage in his eyes. he sees they’ve hurt you, and that’s the final nail in the coffin for what he’s about to do. “Stay with me.” he pleads. “you don’t have a safe home anymore, and even if you did, i can’t promise your safety. i NEED you to be safe, okay. stay with me as my mate. i’ll hunt for you. i’ll protect you. anything, and you’ve got it.” you’re stunned. eyes wide, you ask him why. why does he care so much? nobody else ever did, so why does he, as powerful and as beautiful as he is. the answer isn’t as hard as you would think “it’s because i fucking love you...”

OKAY this is definitely long and more of a vent than anything but i think it’s so cute! just imagine cuddling with him as soft and as cute as he would be, hanging over you like a jungle cat. very nice, very nice indeed

kitsune!Bakugou x gn!reader (I couldn't think of a title, sorry)

Genre: Fantasy

Warnings: Swearing caz Bakugou, brief mentions of gunshots (that’s it I think?? But if there’s anything I missed please let me know)

Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: Tysm for requesting, this was such a cute idea! I’m sorry this took some time, exams are coming so my writing’s a little slow haha. I wrote this to be gn!reader but if anywhere implies otherwise please let me know :) And to everyone else who requested, I’m working on them!

Y/N: Your name

L/N: Last name

You had recently moved into a little cottage in the woods, not too far away from the main city, but enough to be away from the busy, commercial life you once lived. Others might disagree, but you felt more at peace among nature, like you were truly satisfied. You had never enjoyed living among many people, so you were excited to start your new life, out here in the woods. As you walked back to your cottage after taking a walk to familiarize yourself with your new surroundings, you heard a few voices up ahead. You groaned, not wanting to socialize with anyone, but before you could turn to take a different route to avoid whoever was there, you overheard one of the voices say, “We’re gonna get a fine amount of money for this creature’s fur, ya hear me? So make sure the trap is secure.” A couple of other voices mumbled in agreement. You frowned. Although you could not really make out what animal they had caught, you did know that whatever they were doing, it sounded illegal. You sighed. You did not want to confront anyone, but you made your way towards the voices. You saw three men surrounding a cage, holding… guns? “What have I gotten myself into?” you internally groaned, but it was too late to turn back now. “Um, excuse me?” you called out hesitantly. They turned at the sound of your voice, looking displeased. You smiled nervously. “Hi, um, it’s actually illegal to hunt in this area…” you trailed off, seeing their annoyance. “How would you know, you little punk? Go braid daisy crowns or whatever you do in this dump,” one of them sneered at you. You were slowly growing irritated, but you kept the smile on your face, determining to help whatever animal they had imprisoned. “Ok, well, I was going to let you know that if you walk a few miles from here, there is a hunting area. You guys aren’t the first hunters I’ve seen around here,” you lied through your teeth, trying to distract them to give you enough time to release the trapped creature. “If you check it out, I’ll forget I even saw you guys here, and no one will know that y’all were hunting illegally, ok? Plus, I’ve seen a lot of finer animals in that area.” “Maybe we should listen to her, boss,” one of the hunters said to the one who had spoken to you first. “I mean, it is just a fox, and if we’re caught…” he whispered the rest of his sentence to their leader, who in turn frowned. “Fuck, whatever. How far is the hunting area, kid?” he asked, the question directed to you. “Oh, um, about… 10 miles from here? In that direction,” you said, pointing. “You better not be lying to us,” the hunter glared at you, making you gulp. You tried to act nonchalant until they were out of sight, then immediately rushed to the trap. You gasped when you saw a beautiful fox with… tan, almost golden fur. You had never even heard of foxes that colour. The hunters were idiotic to listen to you and leave this amazing creature, but you were glad they did. The fox made a low, growling noise, snapping you out of your trance. “Ah, right, I’m sorry, I’ll let you out now, don’t worry,” you said, suddenly feeling stupid that you were conversing with an animal. You quickly set your attention onto setting it free. The trap looked complicated to deactivate, but you realized it was actually quite simple, and you managed to free the fox in no time. “There you go,” you smiled, “You’re free now.” Surprisingly, the fox lingered, studying you with beautiful carmine eyes. First tan fur, now red eyes? “You’re like something outta a fairy tale, huh? So pretty,” you said softly, gazing at it at wonder, when you heard distant voices shouting.

Crap. The hunters.

“You really thought you could fool us! There were no animals in that area!” “Ahaha fuck, I’m in trouble,” you murmured, thinking of a way to escape, when you remembered the fox was still here! “Hey uh, you really should get outta here-” you said, turning to find not a fox, but a man with fox ears and a- no wait, nine tails. Your eyes widened, freezing as you tried to process what just happened.

“Oi, dumbass, if you’re not gonna run they’re gonna get you, you know.”

“I- uhhh… well this is a weird dream,” you chuckled nervously. “Tch, idiot,” was all he said before picking you up bridal-style and running faster than the hunters could catch up. You felt something whizz past your ear. “HOLY FU- THEY’RE SHOOTING AT US!” you yelled, grabbing at the man’s collar. “Thanks for stating the obvious, dumbass!” he yelled back. “Now would you shut up so I can focus on not dying?” You quickly turned silent after that statement. Without warning the… man? fox? man fox?? suddenly took a huge leap into the trees, landing on a branch that somehow held his weight. You yelped, then quickly covered your mouth in order to keep quiet as you saw the hunters running past from underneath. “They’re gone now,” you heard the man speak as he set you down on the branch. The tree you both were on was sturdy, giving you a secure foothold. You turned to face him. “Uh, thanks for saving me back there, but I’m pretty sure you were a fox when I first saw you…?” “Tch. Humans really have gotten dumber over the past few years haven’t they. I’m a kitsune. Ya know what that is?” Your eyes widened. “A-a kitsune as in the ones in the fairy tales? The foxes who can shapeshift to humans, and have many tails…” you trailed off, feeling stupid that you had not noticed earlier. The kitsune smirked in response. “Yeah, and I have nine, meaning I’m the most powerful. You’re lucky I was there to save you.” “You saved me? Who was trapped in a cage, huh? If anything, you should be thanking me,” you huffed, annoyed. Who did he think he was? He said nothing, simply gazing at you with interest written all over the flaming pools of scarlet that were his eyes. You tried not to feel intimidated by them, not knowing what powers this creature possessed. You could not deny that he was beautiful as a human, alluring even, with blonde hair similar to his fox fur, and his body looked as if it were sculpted by gods. You gulped, forcing yourself to stop staring at all the scars scattering his bare chest. He smirked as if he knew exactly what you were thinking of, causing your face to heat up. “Where do you live, dumbass? I’m sure you can’t climb down trees.” You rolled your eyes, embarrassed that he was right. “Not far from here, I’ll manage.” “Don’t be ridiculous,” was all he said before he lifted you in his arms again, leaping to the ground and taking you home in no time. “I didn’t even give you directions,” you said, confused. He sighed. “I could smell your scent from here. Why do you live in the middle of the forest?” “Caz I want to??” you said. “That’s weird,” he responded. “Don’t you live here too though?” you retorted. You saw a smirk flicker briefly on his face before being replaced again with his bored expression. “I’ll see you around then, dumbass.” He said, turning to leave. “Wait!” you called out, immediately regretting it. Why’d I do that? But there was no time to question your actions as he looked at you, eyebrow raised. “Uh, I-I just wanted to know your name,” you said a little breathlessly. “Katsuki Bakugou,” he said, never breaking eye contact. “Bakugou, huh? Well, I’m Y/N L/N,” you replied. Bakugou shrugged. “I’ll be leaving then dumbass.” You huffed. “I literally just told you my name!” “And?” was all he said, before vanishing through the foliage of trees. You exhaled slowly, feeling a little disoriented. You had so many questions but decided not to think too much of the day’s events, instead opting for relaxing in your new home.

The next day, you decided to just hang out at home, yet you could not get the kitsune out of your mind, making you frustrated. “Ah, fuck it,” you mumbled, before heading out. You were not sure where you were going, but you walked in the same direction you did yesterday. “What are you doing this you idiot? What if the hunters find you again?” you thought, yet your body did not listen, continuing to walk in the same path. You did not run into anyone on the way. Unfortunately, that included Bakugou. You decided to just sit down under a tree and read the book you had brought with you. You had been peacefully reading for a while, the sounds of the forest soothing to you ears.

“Well fancy seeing you here.” You whipped your head at the sound of his voice. You saw the fox with tan fur you rescued yesterday. “Bakugou?” He transformed into his human form, grinning as he did so. “So, what’re you doing here, dumbass? Missed me?” You rolled your eyes. “You wish. I came here to relax for a bit.” “Whatever you say, dumbass. What’re you reading?” You showed him your book, causing him to snort. “What?” you asked, slightly irritated. What was his deal? “Your taste is so bland, I’m not surprised.” “Fuck off,” you responded. “As if you’ve ever even touched a book before.” “I have,” Bakugou said, raising his eyebrows. “Didn’t peg you as the type to read,” you said, getting back to your book. “Is that all modern-day kitsunes do these days?” Bakugou shrugged. “I’ve never met any others here.” You looked back at him, surprised. “So… you’re alone?” “Tch. I just prefer to be by myself.” You nodded. “Me too.” “Pfft, you? You look like someone who would love being around people, with how much you talk and all.” You glared at him. “And this is exactly why I like being on my own.” He raised his arms. “I guess I’ll leave then. Since you seem to really hate company, right dumbass?” “My name is not dumbass, it’s Y/N. Why’re you so rude?” you hissed. You were met with silence when you realized he had left. You could not believe you actually came out all this way just to talk to him, only for him to randomly leave mid-conversation. You huffed, shifting your position to get more comfortable. “I’m still here you know.” You jumped, hearing his voice from above you. “What the hell?” He snorted in amusement. “You really think you could get rid of me that easily, dumbass?” You rolled your eyes, but inside you felt secretly happy that he had stayed, and you hated it. “You’re so annoying,” you retorted, turning a page in your book, yet somehow not really seeing the words. It was quiet for a while, before Bakugou jumped back down to the ground, sitting next to you. “Read that for me,” he said in a tone unlike his usual one. “What?” “You seem to like this trash so much, so read it,” he said, making himself comfortable. You sighed. “Fine.”

And so began the afternoons you would spend with him. Every day, you would meet him under the same tree and read. Sometimes he would fall asleep next to you, exposing a more soft and vulnerable side of him, contrasting to his normally brash and rough personality. It was pretty sweet, and over time, your feelings for him only grew. You were not sure, but you felt that he too had become softer and gentler around you as time went on. He even let you pet his ears, blushing whenever you did so, trying to hide his flusteredness behind his colourful words. He even went as far as falling asleep on your lap in wolf-form, making you happy he could trust you with the more vulnerable side of him.

You were at home, about to leave to meet Bakugou, when you heard some commotion outside. You were about to check when you heard the door break open. “Find them!” you heard a loud voice say. Your blood ran cold. The hunters? Why were they so set on revenge? You heard something break as they stormed through your house. Before you could grab something to defend yourself, one of them burst into your room, causing you to freeze. “There you fucking are,” he said moving towards you, blocking the exit. Thinking fast, you opened the window next to you and jumped out. Thankfully, it was close to the ground, so you easily picked yourself up and you ran, not daring to look back, but you heard them shouting and running after you. You sprinted down the familiar path, calling for Bakugou as you did. “Goddammit, where are you Bakugou?” you yelled as the hunters gained on you, when-

“The HELL you fuckers think you’re doing, HAH?”

You had never felt so relieved to hear his voice. “Bakugou!” “Stay behind me,” was all he said before going absolutely feral. He beat them up in no time, then watched as they ran away in terror. When he made sure they were gone, he turned to you, anger dissipating, his eyes filled with worry. “You ok?” You nodded weakly, then raised your arm, showing him the wound you had gotten when one of the hunters had shot at you. “It’s not bad, don’t worry. The bullet didn’t hit me, just grazed my skin.” “Shit,” Bakugou cursed as he took your arm in his hand, examining it. “That’s definitely more than a fucking graze.” “It’ll heal, I’m good at first aid,” you said. Bakugou looked at you, incredulous. “Dumbass, this needs more than first aid, are you really that stupid? Don’t move,” he said as his hands began to glow. He positioned them above your wound, using his power to heal you. “Thanks, Bakugou,” you said when he was done. “Really, I appreciate everything.” “Katsuki,” he said, not looking at you. “Huh?” you said, confused. “Call me Katsuki, dumbass.” A playful smile made its way on your lips. “Sure, when you call me Y/N.” He chuckled, then looked at you with a serious gaze. “I want you to stay with me.” You looked at him, dumbfounded. “W-What? What do you mean?” “Your home isn’t safe anymore. Those hunters could come back anytime, I went easy on them. I need you to be safe, Y/N, I-” he ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. “What would’ve happened to you if I wasn’t there? Just… please, become my mate Y/N. I’ll do anything for you, I’ll hunt for you, protect you, anything you want.” You were stunned, trying to process what he had just asked. “Y-You want me to be your… your mate? Why? And why would someone like you care so much about someone like me when no one really ever has?” He blushed, looking away to glare at the grass. “Fuck, I don’t know, maybe it’s caz I fucking love you, dumbass.”

[ladyvesuvia]

Bewizarding

[Navigation] [Masterlist]

anon: Draco x reader, fluff, Draco studying with us please? thanks, also no rush at all and feel free to ignore this request :)))

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Fem!Reader

Summary: Studying for the O.W.L.s with Draco takes an unexpected turn.

Words: 1.5k

angst || fluff

Warnings: let me know if there are any!

A/N: sorry if this is short but anyway here u go :DDD i also kinda strayed a bit i’m sorry sxjejkw i don’t feel like studying so 🤺🤺🤺

Their O.W.L.s were approaching in a month and there was simply no denying this had to be one of the most restless they’ve ever been. She often heard the same phrase being tossed around, although in different manners.

“We have a month!” One might say in nonchalance, even shrugging a shoulder and not giving a care at all.

Meanwhile, there was the other half that would say the exact phrase, “We have a month!” Only that this half would be frantically pulling out all notes from the bag, scribbling shakily with a quill on several parchments in hopes of keeping up. [Y/N] identified with this half. Badly.

How bad? Bad enough that she agreed to join the study group she’d been trying to avoid. Draco had informed her they’ve been studying a month earlier, and that it wasn’t too late for her to join and she exasperatedly replied, “What the hell, sign me up.”

Now, as she sat across the blond boy in the library, she found that maybe this was the most ridiculous idea she had ever let come into fruition — she’d liked him for about three years.

“It was just a crush,” she’d tell whoever was pestering her about fancying him. “And it ended, like, eons ago.”

On second thought, it most definitely did not. Okay, she wasn’t certain herself and studying with that person she’d been denying her feelings to certainly wasn’t helping. If anything, it only piled up new variables that bar her way from moving on.

Variables such as his hair, his eyes, his tie, his—

THUD!

“Shhhh!” Madam Pince hissed somewhere in the library. She then saw a timid first year a few tables away pick up a fallen chair and sit back.

“I see you’re slacking off, [Y/L/N].”

“Give me a break, Prefect.” She stood up straighter, putting her hand over her mouth as she yawned. They’d been there for about fifteen minutes now, and the others didn’t seem like they were coming. “Should we call it a day, then?”

“Come on, you didn’t have to make it obvious you don’t like my company.” Draco slammed his book in Charms shut and stared right at her.

“What? It’s not like that, maybe we just need a breather, you know.” She stood straighter and grabbed a book from the stack they piled up. “But alright, if you really want to do this now.”

[Y/N] hauled her bag off the floor, dumping it on the wooden table. To Draco’s surprise, she pulled out a card-sized box from an inner pocket of the bag. When she opened the box, she settled it in the center of the table.

“Poker?” guessed Draco.

“No, you idiot. They’re called flashcards, and I made them myself.” [Y/N] shuffled the cards as silently as she could, not wanting to get kicked out by Madam Pince.

“The cards?” he asked.

“Interested in Muggle things, huh?”

“No,” he said defensively with his arms crossed with a look of utter denial.

“Right,” she said, unconvinced. “Anyway, I’ve been making these since . . . Christmas, I think? Wait — oh, yeah, it was around Christmas.”

He stood up from his chair.

“Woah, where’re you going?” she asked, confused. “They’re really effective, for your information.”

To her relief, he simply crossed the table to sit right next to her. Maybe not so much relief because he was too close. She wanted to ask where the others were but it didn’t seem wise to bring up right now.

“I am switching” — he adjusted his chair and managed a small wink — “positions.”

“Firstly, ew. And I just wanted to repeat that they’re really, really effective. It’s how I studied for school before Hogwarts. Fun days, though. If I’m being honest, I actually miss it. Only difference is that I used index cards with my cute colored pens and—”

“Colored pens?”

“Yeah! My personal fave was purple, too bad no house here’s purple. Maybe I should move to Massachusetts and study in Ilvermorny, I heard one of the houses had that color.”

“Moving schools just for the house color? You might not even get that house, that’s just downright stu—”

“Gee, chill. It’s a joke. Also, why are we talking about this?”

“You started it,” he said, leaning back in his chair.

“I sta— agh, I don’t even want to bother. Anyway, O.W.L.s. This stack is for Charms. We’ll be covering the easiest ones first. You know, incantation and wand movement but let’s do incantation first. I show you the card and you’ll tell me what the in—”

“Do you fancy anyone?” said Draco.

“People stink, I hope that’s enough answer. Alright, first one is . . . the Fire-Making spell.” She held out the card in front of him. Behind it, she could see the answer clearly but she didn’t have to — she knew it the moment she saw the card. She felt a surge of pride pump through.

“Good thing I was a ferret, does that count?”

“Didn’t that scar you for eternity? And don’t ferrets stink even worse? Why are you even— I’m not gonna ask at this point.” She flicked the card on his forehead, earning a flinch from him. “Now, Fire-Making spell. Give me the incantation and wand movement. Use . . . this.” She handed him a pencil, which he eyed curiously.

“Is this a—”

“Pencil, yes.” She snapped her fingers in front of his face. “Fire-making spell, rodent.” But her mind was elsewhere now, too.

“So, do you?”

“Do I what?” She was still holding out the card, and her arm was numbing already but she didn’t want to put it down.

“Fancy anyone,” he replied. “So?”

“Draco, we don’t have time for this. We’ve already wasted an hour or something.” It was true. Eager as she was to hear what he had to say, she didn’t want to get even a single T on her card. Just thinking about it made her shudder.

“There is no study group,” said Draco with an air of inexplainable serenity. “I just wanted to ask you out. That is, if you still think I’m — what was it? Bewizarding.”

Crap, she thought, the memory of a conversation during her first year at Hogwarts coming to mind. She had been sitting in the Great Hall, transfixed at the sight of the boy with the scrunched nose as he looked around the Hall. First years had just gotten sorted into their respective Houses. She didn’t know who she said it to, but she just leaned to the side and straight up told the person beside her, “Wow, he looks like a younger and super blond Leonardo DiCaprio but with a different nose and, like, bewit— bewizarding.”

How that had gotten to him, she did not know.

“So, do you?” he repeated, obviously triumphant. He heard of it about two years ago just before the Yule Ball, and he’d been trying to snag her attention since then — even considering asking her out, but she had already said yes to some fifth year from Gryffindor.

“Do I fancy anyone?” she said.

“Doesn’t matter anymore, now I am asking you if you still find me Bewizarding as you said I was.” Draco put his hand on top of hers, putting it — along with the card — down in the table. He tucked the pencil behind her ear. “So?”

“What if . . . I don’t?”

“Well,” he said while adjusting his tie, “I haven’t really considered that. Shame, I guess. But, you know, can’t really—”

“Oh, no! I see where that went wrong, I should have led with something better. Uh, how do I even say this — yeah!” His eyes brightened at this. “Er — I do. So, are we still studying or what?”

“Nope, but we are going to Hogsmeade. See you around?” He stood up, pushing the chair back in once out of it.

“Okay, cool, but what?” Her eyes went to the box of cards. Maybe she didn’t have to study much, but she couldn’t bear the thought of not doing anything at all.

He simply gave her a hearty smile, turning around to leave the library when she called out to him. “Wait, aren’t you forgetting something?”

“Uh . . .” What was he supposed to do? He turned back around and took one step, still thinking about what it was. When he finally reached her again, he hesitantly — though more awkwardly — pressed a kiss on her forehead. “There?”

“No, I meant your books, you idiot.” She gestured at his fair share of scattered books across the table. He could see her fighting the urge not to laugh. “But that was good, too.”

“Oh, right, my books. Sorry,” he said. He met her eyes and the two laughed, covering their mouths in a questionable attempt to stifle their laughter. “You know what? You wanna get out of here?”

“What the heck, okay.” They picked up the books that could fit into their bags and walked out together, keeping a respectable distance but still close nonetheless.

Taglist: @sfdlm @fives-cup-of-coffee @hey-there-angels @elevatorsdoor @mrzweasley @gwlvr @marrymetheonott @aspiringsloth20 @booksarealwaysbettersworlds-blog @turn-to-page-394-please @catching-the-train-to-hogwarts

[the-insomniac-emporium]

Serenade (Daniela Dimitrescu/Reader) Pt. 11

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T for language Warnings: Nope! Notes: Here we are, a breath away from the end. This features not one, but FOUR songs written by myself. If you only choose to listen to one of them, listen to the final one (Cradle of Heaven), as it is a duet I wrote specifically for this fanfiction, as something that the reader wrote to play together with Daniela. The links to these songs will be within the fanfiction itself, at relevant times. Past Chapters: Pt. 1: Nocturne, Pt. 2: Overture, Pt. 3: Accelerando, Pt. 4: Toccata, Pt. 5: Poco a Poco, Pt. 6: Elegy, Pt. 7: Harmony, Pt. 8: Obbligato, Pt. 9: Berceuse, Pt. 10b: Hymn AMAB

Chapter 11: Cadence

(Cadence: Two chords that mark the end of a song)

The stage is set, the lights are dimmed, your heart pounds within your chest, and the world is yours. Soon, it will be Daniela’s. She is right by your side, as ever, hand gently taking hold of your own. There’s a silent reassurance in her grip, a reminder that the two of you have overcome a plethora of challenges. A promise that this will be no different. Both of you take a deep breath, in sync, before exchanging a quick kiss. All of your hard work has been leading up to the coming moments. Although you are beyond confident in your lover’s abilities, there is a shadow of doubt in the back of your mind. Not for her sake, but surrounding the expectations held by her mother, the standard against which you would be measured.

“Come hell or high water, Songbird, I won’t let anything happen to you. I promise,” Daniela whispers, squeezing your hand again, eyes unblinking as they stare into yours. “You’ve made every right choice, worked harder than anyone I know, and there is nothing more I can ask of you… except another kiss to celebrate afterwards, that is.” Giggling in response gives you the moment you need to relax, nerves fading into the background of your mind. “Now let’s put on a show the likes of which my mother has never seen, mhmm?”

THREE HOURS EARLIER:

“Here, you can borrow my brooch. It’s been in the family for generations, since before we even came to the village, passed down starting with an ancestor who crafted it himself, from materials he scavenged while fleeing his home country,” Daphne rambles, helping you attach the jewelry to your shirt. Thankfully, her hands do not tremble nearly as much as yours have been for the past hour. “I’m more than sure that Lady Daniela will tell you this much, but I feel the need to repeat just how good you look right now. I don’t know where the hell they’ve been hiding this version of our uniform, but damn do I wish I could get one for my next date with Ygritte. Seriously, if you can get one in my size, please do me that favor.”

“Anything for my best friend. Especially after all the times you’ve saved my ass these past few months,” you reply, pausing to give her shoulder an affectionate pat. If not for her constant interference running, someone would have certainly found out about your relationship with Daniela. “Speaking of that… of my life being on the line, I mean… no matter what happens today, no matter what Lady Dimitrescu decides, take care of yourself. You’ve gambled with your own blood to keep me safe, but what I’ve done, what I’ve risked, those were my choices. My consequences. The last thing I’d ever want is for you to pay for them, somehow.”

Rolling her eyes, Daphne gives you a playful shove to the chest, before smoothing out the fabric of your dress uniform. Now she refuses to meet your gaze, a familiar mistiness taking over her brown eyes.

“Nobody around here is stupid enough to think you’ll die today. You managed to get Lady Daniela, of all people, to stay focused long enough to learn some absolutely beautiful pieces of music. You have proved, time and time again, that you are a talented musician, teacher, and ‘servant’. So get out there and kick some metaphorical ass, my friend, because you are ready,” she finally says, offering you what seems to be a handshake. But as soon as your hand meets hers, she’s pulling you in for a hug, holding you tight for a solid minute. When at last you part, you give her what may very well be the last smile she’d ever see gracing your lips.

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

A hand’s edge against xer forehead, parallel to the ground, kept perfectly flat. From anyone else, it would be mockery. From xer? Honest salute, solidarity in a traditional form, accompanied by a sharp-toothed grin. Mimicking the expression, you wave at Ava, glad to see that xe would be awake for your concert. After your first night with your girlfriend, Daphne had helped arrange for someone to be your “cover story” for sleeping outside of your usual quarters. With Daniela’s input (and jealousy), only one candidate had revealed themselves, in the form of a (conveniently) mute butler with an inconsistent schedule, love of mischief, and somehow the respect of the Dimitrescu family. Now, xe appeared ready to escort you to the location of your trial by fire.

“Are you sure our mutual friend won’t be upset to see the two of us together?” You teased, knowing full well that Ava was one of the only people that Daniela trusted 100% around you. In response, xe gives an exaggerated shrug, then quickly links xer arm with your own. Together you march onwards to your destiny, amused by the way xe practically skipped down the hallway. Maybe there was a certain wisdom to xer shenanigans, a carefree philosophy that encouraged laughter in the face of death, and you embraced the thought with a smile.

Before long, however, the two of you encounter another unlikely pair headed towards the same destination: Lady Cassandra, looking somewhat embarrassed, with an unfamiliar maiden at her side. Their hands are clutching each other desperately, although neither of them dares to look at the other. Instead they both watch you closely from where they’ve paused in the corridor. Oddly unfazed, Ava gives them a short bow of acknowledgement, earning xer a brief nod from Cassandra. Seeming eager to move on, she addresses you quickly before gesturing for you to keep walking.

“Good luck. Don’t fuck this up for Daniela, or I’ll never hear the end of it,” she growls, doing her best to downplay her obvious concern. Wanting to let her keep up with her facade, you merely give a nod as you resume walking towards the concert stage. Soft footsteps behind you let you know that the strange pair are accompanying you. Still walking alongside you, Ava repeatedly glances behind you, putting out xer hands in the shape of a heart, giggling all the while. If you didn’t know any better, you would almost assume that xe wanted to get hit by Cassandra.

“Ava, please calm down. If you’re not careful, she’ll throw something at you. If she does that, you’ll probably dodge, and then I’ll probably end up getting hit, and then I’ll miss the concert, Lady Dimitrescu will kill me as punishment, Daniela will be sad and whiny about it, and none of you will have any peace for, like, a month. Three weeks, bare mims,” you tease, nudging xer in the ribs. Emphasizing a pout, xe sends one last look at Cassandra and her ‘friend’ (whose hand she was still holding onto like a lifeline), mouthing words you couldn’t parse. Based on the way Cassandra groans, it was something ridiculously cheesy. Regardless, xe behaves the rest of the way there…

ONE MINUTE TO SHOWTIME:

“I love you, Firefly, and I know that you’re going to do absolutely amazing out there. I’m so proud of you,” you murmur, pressing a feather-light kiss to Daniela’s cheek. As dearly as you wish to stay behind the curtain, in her arms, you know that the show was inevitable. With one last nod to your beloved, you part the fabric shielding you, stepping into the spotlight. Imaginary crowds grow hushed at your appearance, a sea of faces greeting you warmly. In truth, there are but five members in this audience, each gazing upon you with veiled interest. Donning you best presentation persona, you set this final act in motion. “Lady Dimitrescu, Lady Cassandra, Lady Bela, and Mx. Caldwell, it brings me great pleasure to present to you, on this day, a concert performed by your own Lady Daniela. For three months now I have acted as her instructor, and these three months have been, perhaps, the most rewarding of my entire life. I could not possibly be any more proud of her than I already am. Now, without further ado… let us begin!”

Stepping to the side, a tug of a rope has the curtains parting entirely, revealing your beloved, waiting ready at the piano. All at once your audience (including Cassandra’s partner, acting as a mere servant in the background) sits up with wide smiles. They look Daniela over, taking in the sight of her fanciest dress, and the way her eyes light up with joy. By the time her fingers begin dancing away at the keys, there is not a single ounce of anxiety in your entire soul. This first song is a relic from your past, a representation of an abandoned idea, yet she plays it like a celebration. It’s fast, hits hard, a bold take right out of the gate. Admittedly, it is also somewhat short. Nonetheless, it serves its purpose, igniting a spark of excitement in those present. Once the song ends, Daniela is surprised by the intensity of her family’s applause. In the back of her mind, she trembles with excitement, knowing that the best was yet to come.

Riding this wave of pride, she immediately settles into the next song, something slower but far grander. Affection thrums inside your chest as you watch your pupil perfectly execute another piece. You can only imagine what her mother must be feeling, to see just how far her daughter has come in such a short amount of time. A quick glance in Alcina’s direction reveals the barest hints towards her being impressed. For now that was enough to satisfy you. Soon enough her face would twist in surprise, as the second song ended, and a new face steps up onto the stage: Lady Bela. Wordlessly she retrieves her violin from the back of the stage, then turns to the front with a mischievous smile.

“Now, a duet! Presenting the ever-talented Lady Bela, to join Lady Daniela for a rendition of an original song, dubbed ‘Northern Lights’. Enjoy!” You call out, before once more taking your place at the side. While Daniela did not need you to count her in for her solo performances, this feels ever so slightly more important, and as such you do your best to conduct for the duration of the song. If either of the performers need it, they hide it well. Honestly, you weren’t sure if your girlfriend had looked your way even a single time so far. ‘Twas incredible to witness her. Akin to a siren, near glowing, taking to the stage as if born to grace its center. Even with Bela working her own magic, Daniela is ever the star. Together they weave a lovely song, notes rising high into the air, swirling around an enchanted audience.

When it ends, both performers give a bow, as if the entire affair had come to a close. Without hinting at what was to come, you switch places with the eldest Dimitrescu daughter. A deep breath rattles your ribcage as you find your center, reaching out to take Daniela’s hand, the two of you raising your arms upward in a display of union. For the first time this evening, Lady Alcina narrows her eyes in what feels like disapproval. But you pay her no mind. Instead you sit alongside your beloved, quietly settling into your practiced position.

There is no introduction for this song. No announcement, no showmanship, nor even a countdown into the symphony. Simply, like exhaling a breath, the two of you start to play. Your phrases echo hers, and vice versa, calling and answering, accompanying all the while, natural as anything holy in the wild. ‘Tis the second shortest song of the night, only long enough to showcase the degree of your partnership with Daniela. As the song crescendos into an ending, you manage to meet the gaze of your employer. Perhaps it is merely an illusion of hope, or a reflection of lights above, but you swear you see tears in her eyes.

“Outstanding, incredible,” she praises, rising to her feet alongside her other daughters, clapping all the while. Once again you rise to your feet, hand clasped with Daniela’s, bowing as deeply as you can manage. Before you can even process what’s happening, your girlfriend is being pulled away from you, swept up into the arms of her mother. Desperation digs like a knife into your heart, as you ache to celebrate with her, but you remain ever in the guise of a professional. “You did amazing, my dear. I cannot begin to describe how proud I am.” The family gathers around each other, buzzing with affection fit to make the hardest of hearts melt. You are left on the outside, awkwardly waiting, without a hint of acknowledgment.

Even if this concert was a measure of your skill as a teacher, Lady Dimitrescu had never bothered to consider you more than another servant. This night was about Daniela. About your secret girlfriend, the brightest star in all the skies. That is not something that bothers you, nor does it surprise you. All that makes you wish to weep is the desire to kiss her. To sweep her into your arms, with celebratory kisses, singing her name as a praise to higher powers. In the end, it takes several minutes for Daniela to pull away enough to move back to you, and even then she cannot give you the reaction she yearns for.

“I’ll come by to talk to you tonight, I promise,” she whispers, as she gives you the weakest hug you have ever felt. Then she is returning to her family, clinging to her mother with a massive grin. Soon enough you are left alone on stage, quiet surrounding you, mixed feelings gnawing at the pit of your stomach. Something feels… wrong. You cannot put a name to it. No one has hinted to you what your beloved has planned, for none but her even have a clue. As soon as she is alone with her mother, as soon as she has the smallest sliver of an opportunity, she knows what she must do. “Mother… we need to talk. I... I have a confession to make.”

[mcyt-imagines]

TommyInnit Confession HCs

This is a combination of an imagine and some headcanons, this is a new way of writing for me so let me know if you enjoyed this format! 

- Tommy realising he loves the reader and how he’d confess to them - 

Tommy definitely would deny being interested in the reader in the beginning.

It would probably be a natural progression of feelings but tommy just wouldn’t realise it until WAY too late.

Like he just catches himself thinking about them when he’s just doing schoolwork and chores. And then he’s aware of just how much his mind wanders to them. Far too often in his humble opinion.

He lays hints about his crush when talking with Tubbo. He’s real defensive about it though. “You much of a ladies man Tubbo?” Trying to discretely get advice without actually asking for any. And Tubbo being Tubbo means he completely missed all the hints Tommy was dropping. (Not that Tommy’s hints were any good)

His stream for sure notices a change in his behavior, more scatterbrained showing visible signs of stress maybe a little more irritable too. Tubbo definitely notices the changes too and asks him about it. 

Tubbo would probably ask tommy on stream or in private something along the lines of. “What’s up Tommy, you’ve been kinda uh, distracted lately…”

Tommy for suuuuuure blushes and stutters out a response that even Tubbo doesn’t buy. (So instead he talks to Tubbo about it off stream, doesn’t mention his crushes name, but he keeps Tubbo in the loop. Tubbo finds the whole thing very funny because of how defensive Tommy gets in response, however he offers his support to Tommy, obviously. “Even though I have no experience with romance Tommy. I’ll do my best to be the best wingman ever!” With a salute to Tommy on his webcam. Tubbo quickly leaves the call saying he needs to do some ‘research’ (he puts the word in quotation marks with a wink)

Tommy would be a stubborn flustered MESS if stream ever figured out that he was crushing on someone.

And of course they find out because Tubbo slips up and mentions Tommy having a crush.

By that point he is absolutely CONSUMED by his thoughts about the reader as the more he tries to not think about them the more he wishes he was with them.

He also would 10000% be ignoring or avoiding his crush for as long as possible because he knows he wouldn’t be able to utter a single word to their face. His usual ‘big man’ façade would be in absolute shambles if he were around the reader during this time.

There would be a lot of internal and external swearing from Tommy when he finally realises and accepts that he likes you though.

However, this acceptance doesn’t make him any less stressed because now he needs to figure out whether he is even going to tell you!

But he knows he can’t keep living like this as he can’t keep avoiding his crush forever. And he knows the next time he sees you he knows his heart is going to literally burst out of his chest. And he won’t be able to stop himself. So, he devises a plan.

He gets a pep talk from Tubbo in which they help brainstorm his confession plan but he finds himself messaging Wilbur one late night after his stream. “Hey, can I get some advice?” Wilbur is shocked. “Tommyinnit asking ME for advice? Never thought I’d see the day.”

Wilbur teases him for a short while surely. But when Tommy finally puts his pride aside and tells Wilbur about his crush he sobers up quick and dishes out some solid advice and support for Tommy. “In exchange for my services I better be meeting this crush of yours Tommy.” “You got it big man.”

After speaking with Wilbur Tommy feels as if he can finally breathe for the first time in weeks since he first started to realise his feelings for the reader.

CONFESSION DAY!

Tommy sends the reader a text in the mid-morning asking if they wanted to hang out sometime later today. Also apologizing for how ‘busy’ he’s been the last few weeks using schoolwork or chores as his excuse.

He’s furiously texting Tubbo the WHOLE time he’s waiting for a reply from them. Tubbo pulls Tommy onto Minecraft to try and take his mind off the situation. Offline of course, Tommy would not be able to handle streaming right now.

Even Wilbur sends him a few messages to check in, jumping on discord to give his ear for Tommy to chew off. Which he most definitely does.

Eventually his phone dings and Tommy DIVES for it. “THEY SAID YES!” Both Wilbur and Tubbo groan from Tommy’s mic peaking with his screech.

Tommy waits for a few minutes before replying per Tubbo’s request. “I read it online! You don’t want to seem too into them.” He proclaims with false authority as Wilbur chuckles in the background of the call.

The rest of the afternoon blurs for Tommy as he stays on call with Wilbur and Tubbo as they do their best to distract his overactive mind.

However, as the clock ticks on he knows he needs to start getting ready or he’s going to be late.

Wilbur demands that he choose Tommy’s outfit. So for the next half hour Tommy proceeds to perform a free fashion show for the two, only for Phil to join for a short while to give his two cents before going back to his stream.

Eventually Wilbur settles on what he dubbed “-a classic Tommyinnit look-” one of his favourite red shirts paired with one of his nicer black jackets and the dark charcoal pants his mum had made him get a few months ago for a wedding. They are very uncomfortable.

Tommy heaves a sigh as he thanks Wilbur and Tubbo for sticking around with him today. They both send him away, “Good luck Tommy!” “Go get ‘em big man.”

Tommy had agreed to meet the reader at the park, he thought dinner would have been a bit much. Wilbur and Tubbo both agreed on that front. This park was right near the water, so it had a great view of the sunset. He was still pretty chuffed about that fact, his chat was sooo wrong, he could be romantic if he wanted to after all.

Of course, he was a little late. He repeatedly told his mum to speed. She refused of course. His mother of course had noticed exactly what this ‘hang out’ was and had quizzed him about his crush the night prior.

“Don’t leave the car mum.” Tommy was quick to warn her, he did not want her to be anywhere near them. She didn’t need any more dirt on him to embarrass him with. She could end his whole streaming career in an instant if she wanted. A truly terrifying thought.

Tommy was quick to move near the waterfront puffing slightly, nose a tinge pink with the oncoming chilly wind from the lake. “Hey Tommy.” Tommy would freeze instantly before quickly turning with a forced smile, a little too big for his face. “Hey!”

His crush would lead Tommy over to the nearby bench they had been sitting on before he arrived. And they would definitely sit closer to Tommy than he would have wanted.

Tommy would be so obvious. Stuttering over his words, a LOT of frantic hand movements whenever he’s speaking to them.

Mid-conversation his crush starts to laugh. “Tommy I think I’ve figure out why you have been ‘busy’ recently.” Tommy stills immediately, sweat dripping off of him in POOLS. “H-Huh!?” He makes a noise in the back of his throat that he has NEVER made before.

This seems to only make his crush laugh more, they turn fully to him and take one of his clammy hands. He quickly goes to yank it from their grip knowing how sweaty it is. But their grip is strong, and surprisingly calm in contrast to his shaking hands. He gulps simply staring at the spot where their hands are touching. “Tommy.” His gaze snaps up to their smiling face hiding slight worry. “Breathe.” And he finally does. His tense shoulders drop, and their hand leaves his. And suddenly he’s laughing harder than he ever has before realizing how ridiculous he’s being right now. And when he looks over, so is his crush.

The conversation from that point on flows naturally as the two finally begin to catch up after not seeing each other for a few weeks.

Tommy finally realises how comfortable they make him feel. He simply stares at them as they speak. Awed that it took him this damn long to figure out he liked them.

His crush stops talking, noticing him staring. He jumps out of his thoughts, “Hey Tommy, take a picture it’ll last longer.” And suddenly he’s sweating all over again as they laugh.

His crush is having the time of their life watching ‘big man’ Tommy squirm beside them. Trying his best to scrounge up the courage to say something, anything to them.

They open their mouth to speak when suddenly Tommy yells, “I LIKE YOU!”

Tommy isn’t even looking at them, he has his eyes squeezed shut and he thrusts his arm outwards holding something which promptly shoves into his crush’s chest. Effectively winding them.

They wheeze in response, “Me too. Don’t know why though goD!” They push out through gasps of air, pressing a hand to their chest. Pain beginning to subside as Tommy realises he literally just punched his crush.

His jaw drops and his silence continues as they take what was in his hands. A small book.

A scrapbook.

His crush’s face softens as they flip through the photos, memories flooding back to them of days long gone by.

Tommy stayed up all night yesterday just to finish the final details on the scrapbook, it isn’t the most aesthetically pleasing thing. (Even he knows that) But he put his heart and soul into it.

“Very sweet of you Tommy. But I didn’t bring anything for you…” They end up mumbling in response. Tommy only grins. “So you like it?” They scoff and finally pull Tommy in for a hug. He stills for a moment, then melts into their hold.

Tommy mumbles his apology for literally punching them into his crush’s hair. They giggle into his chest in response, letting him know that it’s fine, they’re okay. Tommy mumbles something incoherent into their hair and presses a cautionary kiss to the top of their head.

“AWWWWW!” A loud noise comes from behind their bench. Tommy and his crush dive apart only to see Tommy’s mum hidden behind a nearby tree.

“MUUUUUUUUUM!” Tommy screeches as his crush cackles out a laugh.

Tommy’s mum ends up driving his crush home as well, they sit in the back seat of the car holding hands.

“This didn’t go at all how I’d planned…” Tommy complains with a deep pout. “Oh really? Your plan didn’t involve punching me? Huh?” Their crush sniggers at him.

“Oh! His real plan-“ His mother starts and in order to cut her off Tommy just starts yelling at the top of his lungs “Nononono!!”. Causing his crush to burst into laughter as the two try to increase their volumes to drown out the other.

His crush shakes their head with a grin and wonders what the hell they’ve just gotten themselves into.

[reidisreading]

Sleep Deprivation - Spencer Reid x Reader

Writing Prompt: Spencer Reid is so sleep deprived he doesn’t notice his actions and accidentally crosses a line with reader. Reader ends up being abducted by unsub and Spencer has to make a choice towards his feelings to reader.

POV: Third Person POV but following certain characters.

Spencer Reid with they/them Reader

Type: angst with fluff at the end

warnings / trigger warnings: abduction, mentions of killing, subtle mentions of some sort of mental illness, reader gets hurt physically (punching, etc.), mild cursing.

*author note* Hi, this is my first story and I just wanted to get it out of my google drive page. I didn’t proofread this at all so there’s probably plenty of mistakes (if there is just tell me). I promise future stories will be a lot better than this. 

*word count: 4,100*

To the outside world, Spencer Reid was the perfect person in control of all aspects of his life. 

The problem with Spencer Reid was that he was too smart and active for his own safety. He struggled with sleep deprivation among other things that made it hard for him to keep track of himself. At this exact moment he was struggling with holding six hours of sleep in the last three days. He knows the dangers, he sees statistics, but when he closes his eyes all he can do is see Y/N in danger like in their last case and he can’t go through that. Not again, not when he was the one that found them all bloodied and almost unconscious. This was Spencer’s third cup of coffee in just that morning and the clock hadn’t turned to seven thirty, yet. He finished the last sip and rushed out the door to head to the subway, his hatred for driving now a good thing with his exhaustion getting in the way. A buzzing came from his satchel as he got on his seat, the subway less full than usual. SSA Hotchner Calling 

“Good morning.” Reid’s husky voice shone through the speaker. 

“Good morning, Reid, we have a new case in California, how far away are you?” Hotch said anxiously.  

“Twenty five minutes away, including the walk.” Reid says confidently. 

“Okay, head straight to the bullpen on your way in. We have no time to waste.” Hotch says before hanging up the phone. Reid finished reading the book he started that same morning and moved on to the second book he had stashed in his bag on his way out. 

“Platform-.” He wasn’t paying much attention to his surroundings as he got off the cart and walked towards his job. The smell of the station made his nose hurt as he remembered previous cases of ill intent people doing foul things to their surroundings. 

Get it together, Reid. You can’t walk in there distracted, they’ll know something is wrong. You can’t have Penelope and JJ worried all over you. You especially can’t have Y/N worried for you, you need to keep your head leveled around them. 

It was probably easy to guess that their last case had taken the hardest toll on Spencer. His feelings for Y/N making it difficult to concentrate when the unsub had taken them as a means to keep the FBI scared. Spencer had spent most of his time away in a small office hunched over papers and profiles trying to get them back. 

“Good morning, Doctor Reid.” The receptionist greeted the young doctor. 

“Good morning!” Spencer said in a matched tone. He walked to the elevator, hitting the familiar key without looking at it at all. 

Okay, you need to wake up and be alert. No dozing off like you’ve been doing today. You have a job to do, people are counting on you. Spencer repeated the same words to himself like a mantra until he saw the clear doors to the BAU main office. 

Penelope Garcia POV

We have a tablet for Hotch, Rossi, JJ, Emily, of course, Chocolate Thunder, and using paper we have Spencer Reid and Y/N Y/L/N. They would be so cute together, those two. I know I could find a way for Hotch to let them be together if only they would admit their feelings for each other, this is ridiculous. It’s very obvious to everyone but those two that they’re the perfect match made. Ironic how the two smartest people to enter this building are too oblivious to notice this. If I had a nickel for every time-

“How we looking, Baby Girl?” Morgan interrupted Garcia from her ramble. 

“Like I’d rather be watching something where someone doesn’t die.” She answered annoyed. 

“Don’t we all?” He shook his head as he took his tablet, scanning some of the images, the flash of hurt running through his facial features like a marathon. 

“Okay, we’re just waiting for Reid but he should be here any second.” Hotch says stressed while sitting down. The rest of the team, sans Reid, pile into the room taking their respective seats. Everyone opens their files on their tablets while Y/N scans through their paper folder. 

“Where is Pretty Boy?” Morgan asked looking directly at Y/N as if they would know anything; thankfully Y/N was too focused on the case in front of them to pay any attention. 

“Stop it.” Garcia whispered to him. Morgan looked at her and laughed while shaking his head. 

It’s safe to say that the entire team knew that those two were crushing on each other, they had that energy about them. 

Garcia got up from her seat, ready to direct the team along JJ on their latest case when the Boy Genius walked into the room in a hurry, his satchel already in his hands ready to be removed from his body. 

“I’m sorry, there was a minor mishap and- not important, sorry.” He said while moving towards his seat which was conveniently next to Y/N’s. He stopped next to them, giving them a light kiss on the head before moving to his seat, the small action causing everyone in the room to fall into a heavy silence. He didn’t seem to notice this small movement as he continued on with his regular routine of taking everything off to focus on the file in front of him. “What’s going on in California?” He asked looking up at Garcia, only to notice her stunned expression. “What?” He asked looking at the rest of the team, noticing their silence and awkward glances at each other. The only one not looking at anyone in particular was Y/N. 

“Nothing.” Garcia said while turning around to look at the slide show. 

“Family in California was brutally murdered in their home. Father was moved away from them, from the shows of it, it seems to have been postmortem.” Garcia says while looking at JJ frantically. 

“Two children were left in the closet- I’m sorry, I can’t do this. Reid, what was that?” Hotch asked while he asked JJ to pause the slideshow and turned to look at one of the two younger members of the team. 

“Hotch, no.” Garcia whispered. He’s going to ruin everything! No! We FINALLY have something that officially indicates one of them feels something. 

“I-I don’t understand?” Reid says confused. 

“Pretty Boy coming out of his shell.” Morgan chuckles. 

“What?” Reid asks, still confused. 

“You just kissed Y/N.” Emily says sliding closer to him. 

“I did what?” Reid asked with a raised tone. 

“Reid, what’s going on?” Rossi asks. 

“I don’t- I don’t know.” Reid said genuinely concerned.

“You look tired.” Emily said, “well, I mean, more than usual.” She says worried. 

“I mean, I haven’t really slept but it’s not that bad.” 

“How much is ‘not that bad’?” Hotch asks. 

“Six.” Reid whispered. 

“Six hours daily?” Hotch presses. 

“The last three days.” Reid finishes. 

“Reid, no.” Emily says sadly. 

“Can we get back to the case?” Reid asks, the entire room shifting energy. Y/N staying quiet as possible. It didn’t slip anyone’s notice that Y/N didn’t try to move from Reid, it was almost like they were shifting closer to him. 

“Okay, uhm, two children were left in the closet, their hands tied behind their back and their mouths covered with electrical tape. It seems like most of the extra things the unsub did were postmortem because the children were tied and silenced after this unsub killed them.” Garcia said. 

“The mom seems to have had the most anger targeted. She had leisure wounds around her neck and wrists, but that’s not what killed her. She was drowned in the bathtub, and it seems he may have stabbed her multiple times postmortem, too.” Y/N says as they go through their own file. 

“Maybe they had a bad relationship with a maternal figure and they’re looking for ways to get back at her.” Rossi says. 

“Any reason why the unsub may have targeted this family?” Hotch asks. 

“None that I’ve found yet, sir.” Garcia answers. 

“Okay, wheels up in thirty. Reid, I need to talk to you privately.” Hotch says as he dismisses the team. 

Arron Hotchner I will have a word with you.

Spencer Reid POV

“I need you to stay at the base for this one.” Hotch says automatically. 

“What? No, I can’t.” Reid replies. 

“Yes. What happened there is only a glimpse of what can happen in the future, Reid. I cannot take the risk with the rest of the team. You stay here, work the case, and rest up. Sleep deprivation can cause memory loss and you’re already seeing the side effect. I can’t put you or others in danger.” 

“Hotch, please.” Reid whispers. 

“Y/N will be okay, I promise Reid.” Hotch said sternly. 

“That’s not-.” Reid cut himself short. 

“Your job now is to stay here and look at everything we can’t. Come up with theories. I have to go.” Hotch starts to walk away, “and I want you to get home at a reasonable time to sleep. I need you in future cases.” He finishes, walking towards the last of his paperwork and walks out of the room. Reid looks around the room and spots Penelope at the door, trying (and failing) to look inconspicuous. 

“Let’s go Pen.” Reid calls out to her and picks up his own file. 

“Reid, I don’t think Y/N-.”

“Pen, please.” Reid stops mid track, “I’m not allowed to go and I’m already exhausted as it is. Please, let’s just focus on this.” He says to her as he turns around and comes face to face with Y/N. “Hi.” He whispers. 

“Hi.” 

“Are you- is everything okay?” He hushes. 

“Yeah, I just came to say bye to you both. We’re on our way out.” Y/N replies looking at Reid like a fragile doll, if they moved too fast, he may break. 

“Be safe.” He says, almost so quiet they miss it. 

“Always am.” Y/N replied with a smile, “see you, Pen.” They waved at each other before Y/N finally walked away from them. 

“Oh you’re smitten to the T.” Penelope teased. 

“Penelope Garcia, there’s a room we need to get to and have no time to talk nonsense.” Reid said frustrated. 

“Oh, we can most definitely talk while we’re in there mister Doctor Genius.” She giggled walking away from him. 

“No, Penelope.” He says in a rushed tone as he jogs behind her. 

————————

“Hello my furry friends, what can I do ya for?” Penelope asked in an enthusiastic tone. 

“I need you to give me any and all financial statements about this family. Down to what they spent money on leisurely.” Hotch said not bothering to comment on her strange wording. 

“Anything I should be looking for?” She asked. 

“Yes, anything that may have been spent on from time to time. No cycle, something that if anyone looking wouldn’t have raised an eyebrow.” Emily pipes in. 

“Reid?” Y/N called out, Reid’s cheeks automatically turning a bright red, he’s ears matching. 

“Yeah?” He asked in a high pitched tone before clearing his throat, calling out to them again, “how can I help?” He asked. 

“I found some letters and cards and they look like different people wrote them but I need you to read in between the lines and assign who wrote which letter.” Y/N said picking up the different notes and holding them to the camera, “I’m going to have JJ scan these and send them to Pen, if she could please do the rest so I can have a detailed explanation of the potential unsub.” They finished explaining. 

“Yeah, I’ll have them finished for you as soon as I can.” Reid said confidently. 

“Thanks Spence.” The team said their goodbyes. 

“Oh you’ve got it bad, Lover Boy.” Penelope said through giggles. 

“I don’t know what that means.” Reid said uncomfortably. 

“That Y/N called you ‘Spence’ and you just about melted.” She teased. 

“That’s not true.” 

“Oh come on! When are you going to just get it over with and ask them out?” Penelope asked in a serious tone. 

“Never, they don’t like me and I probably made them uncomfortable today with something I don’t even remember doing.” He fiddled with his pencil. 

“Have you asked them?” 

“No.”

“Then, you don’t know.” Penelope finished turning back to her computers seeing the files JJ sent, “Come on Boy Genius, your future significant other has work for you.” She said excitedly. 

—————————

“Reid, another family was murdered twenty minutes ago, do you have anything that could lead us?” Hotch stressed. 

“Yes, it seems all these families have in common is their religious beliefs and where they do grocery shopping.” He said going through his own paperwork. 

“Those are two completely different things.” Emily said. 

“No, because all three families come from the same neighborhood, down to the same economic standard. That means they all went to the same place of prayer and they all shop from the same places. It goes down to us having already interviewed the unsub.” Y/N says, paper shuffling is heard by Garcia and Reid as Y/N moves around the room with the rest of the team. 

“They’re right. We concluded that the unsub is a white male in their mid twenties who comes from a household deprived of a mother figure or a divorce household. From the way the murders are being done, it shows they have a previous criminal record with small crimes, maybe petty theft or something big like sexual assault.” Reid goes on. 

“In that case, we have only interviewed twenty people. Garcia, can you narrow down the list?” Hotch asked. 

“You must be new here.” She says with an eye roll. 

“Keep us updated.” Emily smiles. 

“Stay safe.” Reid says, everyone knowing he’s truly directing it to one person, “all of you, stay safe.” He covers up before hanging up. 

Jennifer Jareau’s POV

“Hey, Y/N?” JJ had wanted to speak with Y/N since they got out of the bullpen but for one reason or the other never got the chance. 

“Hey, JJ.” Y/N smiled at the blonde. 

“I know what Spencer did today was out of norm. Are you okay?” She asked. JJ knew neither of the Doctors were big on being touched unless they initiated it. 

“I’m okay.” The young Doctor assured her. 

“Can I ask you something?” JJ started, “I’m probably way out of line and you don’t have to answer but…” She started off testing the water, she kept an eye on Y/N making sure they weren’t uncomfortable at any moment, “do you like Spencer?” JJ finished. 

The words coming out of their mouth wasn’t what gave them away, it was the way their cheeks and neck flared up in red pigmentation as their hands dropped the small cup of coffee they were holding, which had thankfully been empty. 

“What? No, that’s- JJ, I do not like anyone.” Y/N stammered and failed to control their movements. 

“Oh, I’m so glad to have asked you instead of Penelope.” JJ started laughing. 

“I do not like… JJ it is wrong to make assumptions of others. It’s- JJ, no.” Y/N continued. 

“Babe, it’s okay. Everyone and their mom’s can see that you and Spencer have a thing. For being the two smartest people I know… you’re both very daft.” JJ said sweetly. 

“I actually don’t think he likes me, JJ. I noticed that his behavior towards me changed into a more protective one after we finished the case. I think he’s guilty because he was meant to stay with me and we got separated.” Y/N said sadly. 

“You cannot possibly be serious.” JJ questioned. 

“I am.” Y/N retorted. 

“That man is in love with you.” 

“No.” Y/N said as they picked up the empty cup they’d previously dropped. “Anyway, we need to finish this before anyone else dies.” 

“Y/N…” 

“Hotch is waiting.” Y/N left the small room. 

When JJ walked outside, the rest of the team was doing a video call with Garcia and Reid. Y/N was busy looking through a stack of papers while Garcia gave more information about the possible unsub. 

“Hey Y/N?” Spencer spoke up once Garcia finished.

“I’m here.” Y/N left the stack of papers next to them as they paid close attention to Reid. 

Reid cleared his throat twice before he started detailing the information he’d found, “it seems like three people wrote those letters. It wasn’t easy to figure out because the same person switched through hand writings quite easily. So, unless you were looking for it, you wouldn’t have seen it.” Reid finished while holding up the letters now filled with side notes. 

“Thanks, Spence.” Y/N smiled at him before picking up the stacks, “that actually narrows down the unsub to four different people.” They picked up a folder one by one and handed it off to others. 

“Garcia, tell us anything on Tony Carter.” Hotch asks. 

While Garcia was telling them all the smallest details she could find to Tony Carter, Spencer and Y/N both went over the notes again. 

“It’s Jared Tall.” They said in unison. 

“Babies, you can’t just bring out the genius in the middle of my genius.” Garcia said annoyed. 

“How do you know?” Hotch asks the both of them. 

“The notes.” Spencer said like it was obvious. 

“It did catch me off guard how this one was written, but it says Jared Tall.” Y/N said like it was no big deal as they pointed at the small details that brought out the name Jared Tall. 

Y/N’s POV

“Hotch, I’m by the south exit. There’s fresh tracks. I think he’s here.” Y/N told their supervisor. 

“Don’t go in without backup. He’s incredibly dangerous and will take out anyone in his place.” Hotch directed. 

“Copy.” Y/N finished replying when they felt a sharp pain come across their temple making them crash against the ground. The cold surrounded them as did darkness. 

Morgan’s POV

“Morgan, I need you to go to the south exit with Y/L/N. They said there’s fresh tracks and that’s dangerous.” Hotch directed. Morgan didn’t answer and just moved to the exit his supervisor had appointed him to. 

“Hotch, Y/L/N isn’t here.” Morgan said through the radio. 

“What?” Hotch asked. Derek didn’t need the radio to hear his directions towards the rest of the team. 

“Their radio is here, Hotch.” Morgan turned around to face him. 

“They couldn’t have gone too far. I gave them directions two minutes ago.” Hotch said while looking around. He turned his radio on and directed everyone to meet at the front of the abandoned cabin. “I need everyone in a group of three. Dogs need to go with you. Y/L/N has intensive knowledge on how to get out of hostage situations but there’s blood on the floor and they may be unconscious now. There’s a likelihood that the unsub took Y/L/N to the same location he has the rest of his victims, if that’s the case he’ll have two children. You need to be extremely careful and vigilant. We have until sundown.” Hotch dismissed everyone Morgan staying behind with him as Hotch called Garcia. 

“Genie in a lap. You have three wishes.” Garcia said in her usual chirpy voice. 

“Is Reid with you?” Hotch asked. 

“No. He went out to get us lunch.” Garcia said as the blood ran cold through her veins, “sir, please don’t tell me that I have to tell Boy Wonder that the person he’s in love with and he doesn’t even realize loves him back, has been kidnapped again.”

“Y/L/N what?” Hotch and Morgan could hear Reid from the other end of the line. 

“He knows.” Garcia whispered on the line. 

“Reid, I’ve got every agent and officer looking for them. They’ll be okay.” Hotch promised. 

“I’ve heard that before.” Reid said darkly. 

“I’ll call with any updates.” Hotch hung up. 

Y/N POV

I’ve got a concussion for sure. Okay, and one broken rib. I can’t open my eyes or move, definitely blindfolded and hands are tied. Probably underground. By the voices near me there’s two children here as well.  

“The fucking FBI. Fuck.” There was pacing around the room. Only one set of feet were moving around. “If you scream, I kill them.” The unsub said. Not knowing what to do, Y/L/N just nodded. “This wouldn’t have happened if that bitch had just ran away with me.” He continues. 

“Who, Jared?” Y/N asked calmly. 

“Patty!” Jared shouted. “She had to stay with her stupid perfect family. What about me?��� He kept shouting uncontrollably. 

“This isn’t your fault Jared. She didn’t deserve you.” 

“You’re right. She had to pay.” Jared kept pacing. 

“Jared, I need you to do me a favour.” Y/N approached. “You need to let the children go. They’re innocent in all of this, just as much as you are.” The added in the end. 

“They’re right, Jared. The children are innocent.” Y/N heard Morgan say evenly. “They’re just as innocent as you. They’d never hurt anyone, just like you.” Morgan approached. Y/L/N could now hear him walking near them. Something must have happened in the ten seconds that there was complete silence, because all Y/N heard after that were three gunshots and suddenly they were being untied. “It’s Morgan, you’re okay, Y/N.” Morgan whispers to them. 

“The children.” Y/N whispers. 

“JJ’s got them.” Morgan replies. 

“I’ve got a broken rib.” Y/N tells him. 

“Anything else?” Morgan asks as he lifts them from the entrance. 

“Nothing I can feel as of now.” They reply surely, “Morgan, Reid is-.”

“He knows you were taken. He’s not happy at the moment.” Morgan replies. 

“Where’s Hotch?” 

“We found another child near here and he’s been assisting on that.” 

“This wasn’t his fault. None of us could have known.” They tell Morgan. 

“Tell that to your lover boy. He’s pissed.” Morgan laughs as he sets them on the bed of the ambulance. 

“He’s not my-.” Y/N starts saying before getting interrupted. 

“He’s in love with you. That makes him Lover Boy.”

Morgan teases. 

“I cannot wait for you to no longer be single.” Y/N teases him. 

“Right back at ya, Pretty Face.” Morgan flicks his finger against their chin and walks away; allowing the first responder to assess their wounds. 

Y/N had to get checked at the local hospital, the rib that had fractured was making it painful for them to breathe and couldn’t wait to get checked in Quantico. 

To say the ride back was long and uncomfortable was an understatement. They’d spend two extra days in California and that was two days too long. 

“You get to see your mans today.” Morgan teased. 

“Hotch, Morgan is being annoying.” Y/N said loudly. 

“Did you just tattle on me?” Morgan asked in mocked surprise. 

“And I’ll do it again.” Y/N said confidently. 

“Behave or I’ll ground you both.” JJ said sternly. Once the jet landed, all their teasing suddenly vanished. Garcia and Spencer were waiting for them at the entrance of the BAU floor. No one said anything as they all hugged each other, Y/N keeping their distance from the team as Spencer gave the rest of the team a small half hug trying not to be rude as his family came in contact with his arms. The all unsubtly excused themselves, giving Spencer and Y/N some privacy. 

Something changed inside Spencer when he found out that Y/N had been abducted. Something shifted, it was like he finally understood he could no longer pretend and show a façade every time he was around them. 

Gravity was working differently now, or maybe it was their legs, neither of them were sure which it was. They crossed the small space between them as Y/N crashed against Spencer’s arms; the world just that much lighter now that neither of them were holding anything in. Spencer held them so tightly he was sure he was going to turn them into dust. 

“Wait, your rib-.” Spencer started. 

“Shh.” Y/N pulled away further from him as they grabbed him by his sweater vest and their lips finally met. 

There was cheering in the near distance but they both pretended they didn’t know what was going on behind them. 

Spencer pulled away for a second causing Y/N to give him a slight pout, “go on a date with me?” Spencer finally asked. 

“Only if you go back to kissing me.” Y/N replied, Spencer attaching their lips together before Y/N could even finish the sentence. 

[es-kay-zee]

Advice | Seo Changbin x Reader

pairing: changbin x reader

genre: smut

warnings: very very soft dom! reader (like, ridiculously soft), sub! idol, afab reader, oral (m receiving), piv sex, unprotected sex, creampie, praise

requested: yes

word count: 4.3k

proofread: surprisingly yes :) although it was very brief so there could still be mistakes lol

taglist: @bxngchxn @jisungsplatforms @qtieskz @vogueinnie

a/n: feedback is always appreciated! i thrive off of it! i love hearing what you guys think about my writing so feel free to let me know what y'all think of this one :)

____________________

A loud knock at your door was the last thing you expected at 11.43pm on a Tuesday night. Especially in the middle of a pandemic. But the most surprising part about it, was when you opened the door, you found your co-worker Changbin standing outside.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, peering over his shoulder and seeing his car parked on the side of the road.

“I need your help,” he replies, holding up various work folders, using the best pleading look he can muster up.

“You came all this way, just for some advice on a case?”

“Yeah. I know it’s late. I just-” he pauses for a second, sighing deeply and running a hand down his face. “I just need to have this done by the day after tomorrow, and I’m struggling with it. It keeps playing on my mind and I haven’t been able to get a good night’s sleep because of it.”

You take a deep breath, weighing your options. It’s not uncommon for Changbin to ask your advice on occasion, especially considering you’re a few years his senior, but what is uncommon is for him to show up at your house to ask. And you were just about to head to bed.

“Okay, come in,” you say before you can stop yourself, and you aren’t entirely sure why you invite him in. Sure, he needs the advice, but you’re tired and want sleep. You could’ve asked him to come back in the morning. But he’s here now and you’ve already invited him in. “Just put the stuff out on the coffee table.”

He does as you instruct, walking towards the couch, taking a seat and spreading some of the folders out on the small table.

“You want anything to drink?” you ask, walking towards the kitchen.

“Maybe just a glass of water, thanks,” he calls back.

You return to the living room, two glasses in your hands. You sit down next to Changbin, placing the glasses on the table, one in front of him and the other in front of yourself. He picks up his glass, takes a sip, and clears his throat before beginning to explain the case and what he needs help with. A short while passes, filled with him asking questions and you answering as best as you can. But you can’t help but notice that Changbin’s eyes keep running down your body every now and then. It’s obvious that he thinks he’s being subtle about it but based on the fact that you’ve watched him do it almost every time means that he’s anything but. It’s even more obvious how distracted he is, because of the number of times he asks you to repeat what you’ve said throughout the night so far.

An idea pops into your had, a rather devilish thought. You don’t know what compels you to do it, maybe it’s the crush you’ve had on him for the past year, or maybe it’s just the desire to get him worked up. You’re not entirely sure, but you do it anyway. You stand up, and Changbin’s eyes flick over to you, but he’s quick to avert his gaze back to the files on the table, not wanting to be caught staring at you. And that’s the moment you initiate your plan, quickly undoing the top two buttons of your black satin pajama shirt while he’s not looking. You round the table and take a seat on the floor, across from Changbin. You have to hold back a laugh when his eyes immediately land upon the now exposed skin of your chest. It’s entertaining, how just a simple pop of a button has the man so flustered.

You lean forward, further emphasising your cleavage under the guise of looking at the files, and it’s faint, but you can hear the low groan that leaves Changbin’s parted lips. You look up at him, and you can’t hide the smirk at the way his eyes are fixated on your chest. He hasn’t even noticed you looking at him.

“My eyes are up here,” you say, and the way Changbin jumps slightly at your words is almost enough to make you laugh.

“Uh, yeah, sorry.” The tips of his ears are red, and judging by the bulge in his sweatpants, the tip of his dick is probably the same colour. He’s quick to catch you looking at his bulge, grabbing one of your couch cushions and placing it over his lap, blocking the view from your eyes.

“Do you need any more help?” you ask, holding up a file. But the way your eyes continue to stare at his obscured lap makes it obvious that you’re not talking about the case. He clutches the cushion tighter, squirming slightly in his seat at the added pressure on his crotch. He doesn’t say anything in response to you, and you shake your head slightly at the silence. “C’mon, baby boy. You can tell me.”

The way his eyes widen at the nickname has you thinking you’ve gone too far. But the quiet whine that leaves his throat lets you know that it’s okay, that he likes it. He mumbles something under his breath, but you can’t quite make out the words.

“What was that? You’ve gotta speak up,” you say, keeping your voice calm and gentle, wanting to gently coax him into saying what he wants to say.

“C-can I kiss you?” he repeats. His question is cute, and you can’t help cooing quietly when he says the words.

“Of course,” you reply, standing up and walking back around the coffee table towards Changbin. You slowly pick up the cushion and place it to the side, replacing it’s previous position with yourself. You straddle his lap, your clothed core resting right above his bulge. You want to grind down against him, but you don’t. He asked for a kiss and that’s what you’re going to give him.

You pause before leaning in, taking a moment to look at his face, his silently pleading eyes and his pouting lips. He looks absolutely beautiful. And just before he can let out an impatient whine, you connect your lips with his, your hands resting upon his cheeks while his find their place on your waist. Your lips are soft, softer than he thought they would be, and the press of them against his own makes him feel like he’s in heaven, dancing among the highest clouds. Immediately, he’s intoxicated, drunk on the feeling of your lips. If he could somehow live without the need for oxygen, he’d never pull away, he’d be content to kiss you for the rest of time.

And just when he thinks it can’t get any better, you tangle your fingers into his dark hair. Your grip is firm, but you do not tug, there’s no need to when he’s already loving what you’re giving. Besides, there’s something fun in the gentleness, in the sweet, slow movements of yours and his lips. There’s no rush to feel more, no rush to indulge in anything more than what’s happening in the moment.

And when you do finally pull back, it’s not for lack of desire. You’re stopped only by the burning in your lungs, you’re body’s necessity for air growing greater than your heart's yearning to keep kissing him. The only sound that can be heard in the otherwise silent room is yours and his breathing, until you speak.

“Should we go to the bedroom?” you ask, wanting to be sure that he wants this as much as you do. You keep your voice quiet, no more than a hushed whisper, worrying that speaking any louder will somehow tarnish the calm atmosphere of the room.

He knows he shouldn’t do this. It crosses so many boundaries between his personal and professional life. For starters, you’re his co-worker, add to that the major crush he has on you and it’s bound to be a disaster. Emotionally. He cares about you, admires you. Sleeping with you will only amplify his feelings. But he’d be damned if he didn’t want this so badly.

“Yeah, we should,” he replies, speaking just as quietly as you.

Slowly, you stand up, taking his hand in yours and leading him down the hallway. He admires you from behind as you walk, his heart racing in excitement. He can’t believe he got to kiss you, let alone getting the chance to do more with you. You walk into your bedroom, still hand-in-hand with the man behind you. You stop, turning to face him. It’s cute, the way his eyes are wide, looking at you as if he doesn’t want to miss anything. You take a step closer to him, connecting your lips with his in another gentle kiss before grabbing the hem of his shirt and slowly lifting it up. Once his shirt is off, you lean in, whispering in his ear.

“Do you wanna take off my clothes or do you wanna watch me do it?” A shudder runs through his body from your breath tickling his skin, and he still can’t believe this is happening. Both options sound like a dream come true, but he knows which one he prefers.

“Watch, please.”

“Then get on the bed, pretty boy.”

Your words send another shiver down his spine, but maybe that’s just the nickname. He loves it, the way you talk so sweetly, the way you treat him so gently. He wishes he could live in this moment forever. He does as you say, climbing onto the bed, leaning against the headboard, sitting with a perfect view of you. And watching you strip becomes his favourite movie, something he could watch over and over and never grow tired of. The way your fingers dance over the buttons of your pajama shirt, slowly undoing them has him wishing he had a photographic memory. Wanting to engrave this image of you in his mind forever.

Your shirt falls to the floor, and your satin shorts do the same, revealing a pair of simple underwear underneath. If you were expecting company like this, then you probably would’ve worn a nicer pair, maybe one of your lacy ones. But Changbin couldn’t care less what kind of underwear you’re wearing; you look stunning nonetheless. You slowly crawl up the bed, until your face hovers over his. He pouts his lips, silently asking for another kiss, and as much as you want to give it to him, you want to hear him ask first.

“Use your words,” you say, but there’s nothing demanding about the way your speak, giving the instruction calmly and quietly.

“Can I please have another kiss?”

You nod once, kissing him again. This time the kiss is deeper, but still just as soft. Slowly, delicately, you place your hands against Changbin’s chest, running them downwards. And as your fingertips trace down Changbin’s torso, he’s sure that they’re made of electricity, for wherever they touch his skin tingles in a frenzy of static. It’s his new favourite thing, the way your touch ignites him in ways that nothing else ever has, or ever will be able to.

Your fingers reach the waistband of his sweatpants, and you toy with the drawstring. You want to draw this out, want to build up to the moment you finally touch him. Your lips never stop moving against his as you gradually, almost leisurely pull his sweatpants down. He raises his hips to help you, even aiding in gently kicking them off his ankles. His underwear remains on, just as yours still is, for now. Your lips move from his to his neck, placing soft pecks just under his jaw.

“Can I mark you?” you ask, breath fanning across his skin, and he’s in love with the feeling. He adores that you ask, that you take into consideration what he wants. He knows that that’s common courtesy, that everyone is expected to ask. But that doesn’t stop his heart from warming at the sound of your words.

He nods, mumbling a quiet “please” before you do just that, softly sucking on his skin. There’s no quickness to the way your lips move, no hurry in the way the marks form along the column of his throat and along his collarbones. The blemishes aren’t dark, they don’t need to be. It’s all about the pleasure of their creation, not necessarily what they represent. Ownership. You’re not trying to own him, to claim him as yours. You’re wanting to make him feel good, to make him feel as if he’s floating among the clouds. And it’s already working, you can tell from the happy sighs escaping his lips with every gentle suck of your own. You begin travelling lower and lower with each touch of your lips, no longer marking him.

“You’re beautiful,” you whisper against his skin, and his face warms at the praise. Your lips don’t stop until they reach the waistband of his underwear, being blocked from kissing any more of him. Your slide your fingers under the edge of the clothing, looking up at him to make sure he’s okay with this. He nods slowly, almost pleadingly, and you smile at him. Just as slowly as you removed his sweatpants, you do the same with his underwear, watching the way his cock finally springs free from the confines of his clothes.

You lower your head again, and he watches the way you press kisses along his v-line. Normally he wouldn’t have the patience for this, he’d be begging you to touch him. But it’s you. And he could wait for hours and hours if he had to for you to finally touch him.

“You’re being such a good boy for me, so patient,” you mumble just loud enough for Changbin to hear you. Your eyes connect with his, and you smile at the way his eyes light up at the praise. “I think that earns you a treat.”

Another kiss, this time to the tip of his dick, and the way he sucks in a breath of air at the feeling is now one of your favourite sounds. But you know that his moans will sound even better. And you’re right, your ears finally being blessed with the sound of one of his moans when you finally take him into your mouth. You don’t take him all the way, just focusing your efforts on the head, but he doesn’t care how much of him you take. He’s just grateful that you’re even doing this, and if he wasn’t pinching himself right now, then he’d be sure that he’s dreaming. It feels too good, too heavenly to be real. But it is real.

You bob your head, movements slow, sensual, your tongue swirling around the head of his cock, running along his slit. It’s divine, the taste of his precum hitting your tastebuds. It’s not normally a flavour you seek out, but right now you can think of nothing better. You look up, wide eyes looking into Changbin’s as you continue, movements never speeding up. You watch the way his hands clutch at the bedspread, trying to find something he can grip to keep himself grounded. He wants to get lost in the pleasure, but not too lost that he misses anything you’re doing.

You bring one of your hands up, linking your fingers together with his. His grip on your hand is tight, secure, and you know that this is the moment to do it. You take him all the way in, somehow managing to not gag in the process. His back arches, another moan escaping him. It’s still quiet, but he doesn’t have to be loud. You bob your head a few more times before pulling away, not wanting to get him too close to the edge just yet. You want to make him cum, but not in your mouth. You want to fuck him first. It’s not until you’re wiping the runaway spit from your chin that you finally register the throbbing between your own legs. But you’re distracted from that again when Changbin asks for yet another kiss. And who are you to say no?

You kiss him, sliding your tongue into his mouth to dance with his own. He groans at the taste of himself, absolutely loving it. You stand up, ridding yourself of your underwear before straddling Changbin again. You take him into your hand, not wanting him to go too long without pleasure. You line him up with your entrance, your dripping essence too much to ignore any longer.

The stretch stings as you slowly slide down onto his cock, and you know you should’ve done more to prep yourself. But you can’t bring yourself to care, especially with the way Changbin sighs so happily at finally being inside your walls. Tight, warm, it’s pure heaven as he fills you to the brim. You remain still for a moment, giving yourself time to adjust to his size. And not once does he complain. Not once does he ask you to move, too busy just letting himself feel you. Letting himself feel the way you clench around him, the way you completely envelop him.

“You’re so big, Binnie.”

Another nickname. Another nickname that makes him feel good. And the praise. He absolutely loves it.

You slowly lift your hips and drop back down just as slowly. Fast bounces are fun, they feel good, but nothing beats the sensuality of slow movements, of sweet, gentle sex. You set a slow pace, one that lets you both feel everything. You grab Changbin’s wrists, bringing his hands up and placing them on your breasts. He’s quick to swipe his thumbs over your nipples, rubbing over the perked nubs as your hips keep moving, bouncing and grinding unhurriedly. His head drops back, the pleasure he’s feeling making him unable to keep his eyes open. He tells himself that if something happened right now and he died, then he would die a happy man.

It feels so good, and he can already feel himself gradually approaching his release, and you can tell from the slight shaking of his thighs and the way his breathing picks up. You bring one of your hands to your clit, wanting to get yourself closer to that edge of ultimate pleasure. You rub languid circles against the bud, making you clench tighter around Changbin’s cock. His moans increase, not in volume but in frequency and pitch, and the sound is music to your ears. A song you could listen to forever.

“I-I’m gonna cum,” Changbin says, his voice breathy. You lean down closer to him, whispering into his ear.

“You can cum in me.” You clench as you say the words, and that tips him over the edge, causing him to spill inside your walls. You bounce once, twice more before you cum as well, burying your face into the crook of his neck. You continue to grind against him, riding out your highs until the both of you come back down.

The room is filled with heavy breathing, and it’s several minutes before you climb off of Changbin. Your legs are jelly when you stand up, tired from riding him, but you don’t mind. You could deal with wobbly legs every day if it meant you got to make him feel good. You get dressed again, telling Changbin you’re going to go get you both a glass of water before doing just that. By the time you come back with the glasses, he’s redressed as well, sitting on the bed. He takes the one you hold out for him, gulping down the water.

“You’re welcome to stay the night, if you want,” you say before an awkward silence can fill the room. “It’s getting kinda late and that way I can help you with the case in the morning, seeing as that’s the whole reason you showed up.”

If sleeping with you was Changbin’s first mistake of the night, agreeing to stay was his second. Not that he regrets either choice, but he’s not sure exactly what it is that makes him say yes to staying overnight. Maybe it’s the way he feels about you, or maybe it’s just that he really does need advice on the case and it’s easier to stay than come back the next day. At least, the latter is what he keeps telling himself is the reason.

You offer him your bed, and you hope he accepts, but instead, he opts to sleep on the couch, not wanting to intrude on your already generous hospitality. And so, that’s what he does. He sleeps on the couch. You give him your cuddliest blanket to keep him warm, and one of your nicer pillows, wanting him at least to be as comfortable as possible. He finds the gesture sweet, and he smiles warmly at you before bidding you a good night. You sleep alone, but you’re comforted by the knowledge that he doesn’t regret what happened. At least, not enough to leave.

When Changbin awakes in the morning, it’s to the smell of pancakes wafting from the kitchen. He smiles at the aroma before eventually opening his eyes. He spots the files on the coffee table and is immediately reminded of what transpired the previous night. He can hear you humming a tune while you cook, and it only serves to further broaden his already wide smile.

He sits up, quickly stretching his tired body before standing. He walks towards the kitchen, leaning against a wall to quietly watch you as you gently dance around as you cook. There’s something he loves about seeing you like this, seeing you in your natural being, not being confined by the expectations of a professional work environment. Just watching you, he can tell that he really likes you, even more than he did before. He wouldn’t say it’s love, he doesn’t know you quite well enough for that yet, but maybe someday he can work up the courage to confess his feelings to you. Not today, but definitely someday. You spin around, jumping slightly when greeted with the sight of Changbin, his hair still dishevelled from sleep.

“Good morning,” you greet, a bright smile lighting up your face. “I hope you’re hungry.”

“I am.”

“Good, because you’re pancakes are…” you pause, grabbing one more pancake from the pan before sliding it onto one of the two plates, both already containing a stack each, “done. I don’t know what toppings you like, so I just grabbed out all the ones that I have, and figured I’d let you decorate your pancakes until your heart’s content.”

You hand him the plate as you finish speaking, gesturing to the other bench upon which sits numerous different toppings. There’s a small bag of mixed berries, chocolate, caramel and maple syrup, whipped cream, and even a tub of vanilla ice cream. He weighs up his options before coming to a decision, placing two extra-large scoops of ice cream on his pancakes along with a generous drizzle of chocolate syrup. He looks around for some cutlery, hoping to find some without having to go searching too far. But he’s out of luck, unable to see any anywhere on the kitchen bench.

“Knives and forks?” he asks, waiting for you to tell him which draw they’re in without having to go searching on his own.

“On the table,” you reply, pointing to the dining table where there's two places that have been set.

“Ah, which seat’s yours?” he asks, walking towards the table, plate of pancakes in hand.

“Either one, I’m not too fussed.”

With a nod of his head, Changbin chooses a seat and sits down, waiting patiently for you to put toppings on your own pancakes and also take a seat. Only when you start to eat does Changbin do the same. You both have idle chit-chat over breakfast, the small conversation flowing easily. The pancakes are delicious, and he’s sure to tell you that multiple times.

Once you both finish, Changbin offers to do the dishes as his thank you for making breakfast. You tell him he doesn’t have to, that you can just get to them later on in the day, but he insists, telling you it’s the least he can do after your kindness to him. Truth be told, you don’t like doing dishes, so it doesn’t take too much for him to persuade you into letting him do them for you.

You stay sitting at the table while he scrubs the dishes, watching his arm muscles as he does so. You can’t help but think to yourself that he truly is beautiful, a sculpture carved by the best of the best. He’s magnificent. You shake yourself from your wandering thoughts, reminding yourself that there’s a reason he stayed the night.

“You still wanting help with that case?”

“Yes, please. It’s due so soon and I’m sure I won’t meet the deadline without some help. So, if you’re willing to help then I will absolutely accept it.”

“Of course, once you’ve finished with those dishes then we can pick up where we left off last night,” you say, smiling softly. You can tell his mind goes straight back to the events that happened the night before because of the way his ears go red. It’s adorable, how just the thought of what happened has him flustered. He clears his throat, nodding quickly at your words and continuing to clean the dishes.

Once they’re done and dried, you both walk back over to the coffee table, each taking a seat on the couch. You gather some of the scattered files, sorting them out tidily. Changbin watches you move, happy to finally be getting some much-needed advice from his favourite co-worker.