#looks strange without the scarf | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nereidprinc3ss · 5 months

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strange perfections

in which spencer reid and fem!reader meet by accident at a coffee shop. and then they keep meeting there. they've really got to stop meeting like this. (no, seriously. hotch is pissed.) / do you believe me now? bonus chapter!

series masterlist

fluff! warnings/tags: meet cute:) some dark humor, romantically inexperienced reader, spencer reid graduated from caltech, mit, and the derek morgan school of rizz a/n: this can absolutely be read as a standalone BUT it was written as a prologue for my series do you believe me now? to explain how spencer and r met! completely optional, if you're only here for the smut no worries! reading this bonus chapter might make the next chapter better though as it contains discussions of how they met:) anyway, I LOVE YOU!! let me know if you like this silly little random thing! kisses

The café door opens again. A blustery wind raises goosebumps on your arms and makes your bones ache again. You look up at the latest intruder—a hobbling elderly man in a newsboy cap and a knit red scarf.

Stupid scarf, you think.

Stupid door.

Stupid wind.

Your mug is empty, and the table you’re sitting at is sort of sticky and rickety, and there are so many papers in front of you that you wonder why the hell you thought it’d be a good idea to print the PDF out and annotate it that way instead of just doing it on your laptop like a normal person in the 21st century. Nothing is going right today. It’s the third café you’ve tried in the past few weeks as you attempt to find some place that feels homey, lucky, but this one just feels… inconvenient.

You look at the stack of papers and sigh.

Stupid Lord Byron.

Stupid cafe.

Usually, cafés are relatively quiet and peaceful—a refuge for the overworked to bask in the luxury of quiet jazz and the smell of dark roast as they continue to overwork themselves. This particular establishment, however, today hosts a group of teenagers—presumably playing hooky—who have commandeered a big booth in the back and keep walking right past your table because apparently they couldn’t have just ordered their drinks at once and they all have to do it separately and loudly.

One of them has an incredibly irritating, gratingly pubescent laugh, and they think everything is hilarious. This whole situation is unbearable.

Just as you’re gearing up to go, of course the fucking door opens again. This time, it’s accompanied by a particularly strong gust.

Strong enough that Lord Byron doesn’t stand a chance.

Your printed copy of his works blows off the table, at first page by painstakingly annotated page and then before you can even process it, all at once.

Yeah. This is definitely not your lucky café.

As you curse and go to stand up, you run into one of those dumb kids. His huge ceramic mug goes flying, careening against the edge of your table and completely splattering you and all your stuff in 16 liquid ounces of scalding espresso and milk.

It’s silent for a second, save for a few drips from the puddle on your table to the floor, before the kid is apologizing profusely and turning red as a tomato. You can’t even respond—you look down at your ruined favorite sweater, and then around at the pages of Byron littered with color-coded sticky notes, overflowing with angry and purposeful red ink that you spent so much time on, scattered all over the floor.

Eventually the boy catches on that you’re not going to forgive him and he skitters away, back to his friends, who whisper and giggle profusely. Only a few of them get up to start gathering the fallen pages with you. Several other patrons end up helping as well, so the sheets of paper are gathered and returned into your sticky hands fairly quickly. You thank each person without looking up as they hand you their respective stack. All you want is to get out of here.

“Here—I’m really sorry about this,” someone says—a tenor-ish male voice, distinctly sympathetic as he holds out a rather larger stack of papers than anyone else had bothered to pick up.

“I’ll live,” you sigh, straightening up. “But thank… you.”

The man standing in front of you is the kind of man who makes you want to untuck your hair from its usual spot behind your ears, and to stand up straighter, and to try and not stare even though you want his attention. He’s gloriously beautiful in a way that repels and attracts you. He’s the type of man who wouldn’t have given you the time of day in high school and probably wouldn’t now. Instantly you feel both insecure and reduced to a former version of you who would simper and fawn over boys who wanted nothing to do with her. You feel like going to the other side of the café and sitting in the best light and staring out the window poetically and hoping he’s looking at you.

“On the one hand, I feel bad for being the person who opened the door and let the wind in. On the other… I feel compelled to say at least they’re not covered in coffee like the rest of your table is?”

You laugh vacantly, a second too late, positively coveting the awkward smile on his angular face. Then you make eye contact, and his eyes are so the opposite of angular—they’re huge and inviting and the warmest golden-brown you’ve ever seen, and they’re looking right back at you—and you have to look down. Fuck. You hate when you do that.

Think of something normal to say!

“Yeah, true. Now I just have to reorder 264 pages. That… that don’t have page numbers.”

You shuffle through the papers. They are hopelessly scrambled. Your heart sinks just a bit.

“Um… I might actually be able to help with that, if you want?”

You frown, glancing up. What kind of sex trafficking ploy is this?

“That’s okay. Might be easier with just one person.”

He laughs—it’s similarly awkward, similarly endearing.

“Do you mind letting me just… try? It’ll only take a minute.”

Only take a minute? Is this beautiful man deranged? Why are the hot ones always crazy?

But, perhaps because you’re a pushover who can’t stand up to people, much less beautiful people, much less beautiful men who are paying you undue attention, you find yourself giving in. You hold the stack out.

“Sure. Give it your best shot. I’ll be impressed if you can even figure out what page one is.”

He’s already flipping through the papers with a drawn brow, walking away with them, and barely looking over his shoulder as he mutters, “I have Byron memorized. It shouldn’t be too difficult.”

You follow him, because hello, he has all your annotations. He’s definitely insane, you think, as he sits down at a table and starts rapidly sorting the sheets into separate piles.

All you can do is stand awkwardly behind him as he stacks papers seemingly at random, barely glancing at them before deciding where they go.

Maybe a minute, maybe a few go by, each of which have you progressively more flabbergasted, before he’s tapping the edges of a stack of paper on the table and standing, handing them to you with his lips pressed into a thin pleasant line. There’s almost a glow about him—like he couldn’t be more in his comfort zone.

“There you go. Should be in order now.” You sport a frown bordering on a grimace as you take the stack and flip through it a bit. Sure enough, it seems that everything is in order. You keep looking between the man in front of you and the papers, incredulous as you wait for something to be in the wrong spot.

“How did you do that?”

His cheeks turn slightly pink.

“I know Byron really well. I know how each passage ends and begins so I put them together like puzzle pieces.”

“How did you read that fast?”

“Uh. I’m a speed-reader?”

You scoff, taking another look through the stack.

“I think that may be underselling it.” A thought occurs to you as you’re grazing over one of your longer annotations—full of expletives and strong opinions. “Oh, god. You didn’t… you didn’t read my notes?”

The man’s eyebrows raise as if he was waiting for you to mention that and he smiles like he doesn’t quite know how to break it to you gently.

“Maybe a few,” he eventually decides, laughing under his breath. “I appreciated the commentary on his relationship with Augusta. It was… colorful.”

Heat rises in your cheeks as you mumble.

“Yeah, I had a hard time appreciating the romantic poems. They’re less cute when there’s like a fifty percent chance he’s writing about his sister.”

“Half sister,” he corrects. You give him a look.

“Does that make it better?”

“… no,” he realizes. “Not even a little bit.”

You laugh, relieved that his face looks as warm as yours feels.

“Well… thank you, for the help,” you say after a silent second.

“Of course. Sorry, again. I, um—I hope your day gets better?”

“Yeah, well. I feel like statistically it has to, right? It’s kind of a low bar.”

He smiles, a perfect, perfect smile, and gives you a little wave as he leaves. Without coffee. Checking the clock on the wall, you realize it’s approaching one in the afternoon. If he’d been here on his lunch break, he sacrificed it to organize your stupid Byron texts. You smile to yourself.

He was totally in love with me.

And he can’t prove me wrong because I’ll probably never see him again.

All things considered—this coffee shop does seem pretty lucky. Maybe you’ll stick with it for a while.

The next time you see the mysterious sexy speed reader is four days later—though you’ve been here every day since. He catches your eye right as he walks in, and his brows jump in pleasant recognition. You smile. He smiles back, before going up to the counter and ordering a coffee with a ludicrous amount of sugar in it.

I should take note for when I make him his coffee in the mornings, you think to yourself, and then you snort at your own delusions, shaking your head at your book. Obviously you’re not that divorced from reality, but you’ll entertain the fantasy forever until one of you stops showing up to this café.

What you’re absolutely not expecting is for him to walk up to your table with his to-go cup.

“Hi,” he says.

“Hi!”

Jesus. Tone it down, girl scout.

He gestures to your stack of papers: now secured in a three ring binder. The cup says Spencer.

Spencer. Spencer.

It feels important.

“I see you’ve upgraded.”

“Yes! Yes, I did,” you laugh self-consciously, still struggling to meet his eyes. “Thank you for the help the other day. I would still be sorting through all of this if it weren’t for that, so… yeah. Thanks.”

“Of course! I’m glad I could be of use.”

“Spence!” Someone calls from the cafe door. You both look up to see a stunning blonde beckoning him away.

Ah. Naturally. The girlfriend who is one trillion times prettier than you.

Spence.

Reality sets in.

“Coming!” He replies, with all the eager compliance of a child, before turning back to you. “Um… well… I’ll see you?”

It’s an awkward way to say goodbye to a stranger, but you suddenly don’t care enough to dwell. Instead you nod once, less enthusiastic now that you know he has a 10 waiting for him on the sidewalk.

“I am a creature of habit.”

Another wave as he walks away.

The two disappear from the doorway, but the perpetual breeze seems to carry a snatched bit of conversation your way.

“Who was that?”

“Uh… I don’t actually know.”

Yeah. Reality definitely sets in.

Over the next few days, you break your café streak. Life is busy. There’s not always time to artfully ponder Romantic poetry and drink a six dollar coffee while waiting around for certain people to show up.

Okay, so… maybe it has more to do with him than you’re letting on. But you’re not going to do that thing you do again, where you become limerently obsessed with a man you don’t know and who is way out of your league just because you can’t form an actual attachment to anyone to save your life. Besides, you remind yourself; we probably wouldn’t be compatible anyway. He’s probably a huge loser. Or secretly a douche. Or chews with his mouth open. Obviously nobody that attractive can also have a good personality.

Not to mention he has a girlfriend. That should put you off, too.

But you hadn’t been lying when you’d proclaimed to be a creature of habit—you return to the café once you feel sufficiently detached from this Spencer character.

He’s there. Of course he’s there. Why had you been expecting for him to not be there? It’s not like he was a figment of your imagination.

This time he’s accompanied by a different blonde woman—a bespectacled blonde with a big floral headband and a patterned dress and a red cardigan and tights and heels that look self-injurious. She’s quite eye-catching; you want to keep looking at her, but you seem to draw her attention, too. Her big eyes widen minutely and briefly you wonder if you’re supposed to know her, but certainly you’d remember meeting a person like that. She doesn’t seem easily forgettable. Both of you look to Spencer at the same time, who’s looking between you with an almost panicked expression.

“Oh! Th—” the woman whispers, cutting herself off when she realizes how loud she’s being in the otherwise silent establishment. “Ah! Okay, right. Never mind.”

Spencer sighs. You want to laugh, but you’re baffled by the whole thing. So you go back to reading.

Ten minutes later, they draw your attention once more.

“Go, go ahead! It’s more problematic for you to be late than me. I’ll be like, thirty seconds tops.”

You don’t look up as Spencer leaves the café—but are you supposed to gather that these two eccentric individuals are coworkers? And what of the first blonde woman, who you’d presumed to be his girlfriend? Where is she?

While you’re wondering all of this, the new blonde teeters her way over to your table.

“Hi!” She says pleasantly, waving a purple-tipped hand and wearing the biggest grin.

“Uh… hi?”

“I’m Penelope. You’ve met my friend Spencer. He just left.”

“Oh—sort of,” you smile weakly, closing your book. “Not formally. I didn’t know his name.”

That’s a lie, but maybe feigning non-chalance will make it real.

“Well, I just wanted to come over and say I love your bag. And your jewelry and your coat. I love your whole look. I bet you’re a really cool person.”

“Um—thank you!” You perk up, smiling genuinely now. The compliment warms you—you didn’t think your look was all that interesting today. “You too. I love your outfit.”

“Great! You’re—you’re great. This is good information. Um… just out of, like, sheer curiosity, could I get your name, age, and occupation? Oh—and your zodiac sign?”

What kind of convoluted sex trafficking ploy—

“Garcia!”

Spencer is at the doorway again, looking adorably miffed.

Adorable? Get a grip.

“Wh—I’m just making a new friend! Is friendship illegal, now?”

“This is the kind of friend-making that gets you a restraining order,” he urges.

You look up at Penelope Garcia, enamored by their whole dynamic. They clearly care for each other, despite the squabbling. What kind of job do they have where they talk to each other like this?

“It’s fine,” you smile, introducing yourself to her.

“That is such a good name!” She says, and you’re getting the sense she’s kind of always this enthusiastic. “So now we know each other’s names—we should probably definitely be friends, right?”

“Yeah! Um, definitely!”

“Yes? Oh my god! I love this! Okay, um—we work at Quantico, so, we’re like, 10 minutes away—but this is better than the coffee shop that’s closest to the building, so we come here all the time. Usually it’s just us and five grouchy old men, which makes this is really exciting.”

“Quantico… that’s the FBI academy, right?”

“Other stuff, too,” she nods, still smiley.

Oh! Cool. So they’re FBI agents.

So that’s cool.

You’re cool with that.

Her phone starts ringing—she locks eyes with Spencer.

“Hotch?”

“Ooh, we are in trouble,” Penelope sing-songs, leaning down to write her number on your notebook without asking. Not that you mind, of course. She adds a little heart and a smiley face next to her name before capping your pen and toddling away. “Bye, new friend!” She calls over her shoulder, waving goodbye with just her fingers.

“Bye,” you manage, though it’s probably too quiet.

Spencer flattens his mouth into an approximation of a smile and waves again.

You accidentally find yourself mirroring his goodbye, facial expression and all. Fuck. You hope he doesn’t notice. You hope he doesn’t read into it.

Nah. Boys are dumb.

You text Penelope later that afternoon—a simple greeting so that she can save your number—and then you forget about it.

It’s not until five days go by without sign of any of them—the two blondes, Spencer, this mysterious and foreboding Hotch figure—that you start to seriously question your sanity. Did they drop off the face of the planet, or what?

But of course, just as you’re sitting at your usual table, Spencer walks in. Alone.

He sees you immediately, but instead of the wave you’d come to expect, he immediately flushes, looks down at his shoes and hurries into the small lunch-rush line.

Weird.

You corner him at the coffee bar, where he’s adding more sugar to his coffee. How are his teeth so nice if he does this to himself every single day?

“Hey,” you say, affecting casual confidence as you bus your empty mug. “… Spencer, right?”

It’s comical how you’re pretending you haven’t turned that name over and looked at it from every angle hundreds of times since the first time you heard it.

He nods, only glancing up at you as he stirs. To your surprise, he knows your name, too. When you give him an odd look, he smiles almost apologetically, finally looking at your face for longer than half a second.

“I heard you introducing yourself to Penelope. Sorry if that’s…”

“No, no! Is she around, today? I texted her last week, but she never responded...”

“Today is operating system update day, so I don’t even really have a way of knowing if she’s alive in her office.” It’s funny to him, but you just smile, baffled. He notices your silence and catches on, scrambling to explain himself. “She’s our tech analyst. There are 243 computers in our building and she has to update them all remotely, which requires getting every agent to agree to not touch their computer at the same time for an hour or so.”

“Oh… does the FBI not have, like… an IT guy, or something?”

He laughs again—the way his eyes crinkle when he does it makes you a little breathless.

“You should say that to her. I think you would become her favorite person.”

It’s hard not to smile when he’s smiling because of you—however indirectly that may be. Quickly you realize you’ve both been standing in front of the coffee bar for too long.

“Alright, well… tell her good luck, for me?”

“I would, but I’ve been kicked out for an hour while she does the updates.”

Your brow furrows and you laugh.

“From the whole building? You just can’t keep your hands off your computer for an hour?”

“Not if I want to do my job, no. And I am kind of obsessive about my job. I’ve been the reason she had to start the whole process over again before and I’d rather not be that person again.”

You say it before you can think too hard.

“Well, if you have an hour to kill… there’s an open seat at my table? No pressure, obviously.”

And that was the first of thousands of hours you would come to spend with Spencer Reid.

After that, it sort of becomes a regular thing. He comes almost every day—except for occasional week or so long stretches, which you have discovered are a part of his absolutely fucking insane job—and sits with you, sometimes with Penelope, once with the other blonde, JJ, who you’ve since deduced is not his girlfriend, most often alone. Usually he can’t spare more than ten minutes, but he begins pushing it, little by little, until thirty minutes go by and you think surely his boss (the great and all-powerful Hotchner) must be beginning to notice.

One day, during your usual lunchtime rendezvous, his phone rings. He talks right on through it, like it’s not happening.

It ceases. And then it starts again.

Your head drops to your shoulder, something like pity or regret softening your features. He catches your eye and melts slightly, mid-sentence—like he knows you’re about to tell him to be responsible.

“Do you think you should…”

His hands drop from where they’d been enthusiastically positioned mid-air.

“They’ll be fine if I’m late from lunch one time. I’m usually more punctual than any of them.”

You roll your lip between your teeth—it’s not that you want to tell him to go; in fact, those delusions you’ve been harboring about your future life together are only getting worse with each inexplicable minute he entertains your company.

But his job is important.

“What if you have a case?”

“Then I would have gotten more calls from more people by now.”

Your head tips back as you laugh lightly at his unwavering insistence.

“I’m flattered that you so enjoy my company that much. But I can’t with good conscience keep taking up your work hours like this.”

As the laughter fades, he just… watches you, lips slightly parted, eyes intense but not entirely present.

“You’re probably right,” he finally breathes. “Maybe… you should start taking up my other hours, instead?”

Spencer Reid, you unexpected charmer.

You balk.

“Like… we would hang out? At a different time of day? Not here?”

“Those are the basic premises, yes,” he chuckles, nodding affably. “I’ve never actually seen you anywhere else. For all I know you could be a ghost eternally tethered to this building.”

“Where would this hanging out take place?”

Fuck, you’re totally being weird. His brow knits.

“I don’t know. Where else do people hang out?”

He’s not genuinely asking you, he’s gently turning you in the right direction. You charge forward blindly.

“Restaurants.”

There’s that pretty smile of his again, the one that makes all the thoughts drain from your head like cold bathwater. Though, there’s a sort of mischievous edge to it now that you haven't seen before.

“That’s certainly an option. If I asked you to hang out with me at a restaurant... would you say yes?”

You look down. God, your face feels warm.

“Would you be asking me out on a date? In this hypothetical scenario that we’ve constructed, I mean.”

Spencer seems to think about it for a moment, which fills you with unexpected panic. When you look back up anxiously, he has the same smile on his face, but his eyes are a little softer now.

“I would.”

More panic sets in—just a bit. But you don’t let what is undoubtedly a tidal wave of anxiety break through the emotional guard-dam. Keep it together. This is a good thing. This is what you wanted.

Unfortunately, you are perhaps more transparent than you’d realized. Spencer begins to look slightly worried, leaning forward in his chair.

“You don’t have to say yes. I know we don’t know each other very well, I just—”

“No!” You find yourself assuring him, though you curse yourself because you kind of want to know what he was going to say. “I would say yes. I’ve just, um—god,” you laugh gustily, self-consciously. “Sorry I’m being so weird. I’m out of my depth. Nobody’s asked me on a date before. I don’t really know the etiquette.”

Spencer chuckles.

“You’re doing great. Don’t worry about it.”

Not, what?

Not, you’ve never been on a date before?

Not, that’s crazy, or that’s weird, or how have you gone your whole life without being asked out?

With the implication being, you’re odd. Different. Maybe not in a good way.

He says none of that.

“But I should probably actually ask you, huh?” His cheeks turn pink as his laughter is redirected inwards.

“Sounds like a good first step.”

Spencer is still smiling as he says your name and it sounds so good from his mouth. It makes you sound so real.

“Will you go on a date with me?”

Butterflies in your stomach doesn't begin to brush what you're experiencing—your entire abdominal cavity is like a Monarch sanctuary.

“I’d love to.”

He seems genuinely relieved as he beams, slumping back in his chair.

“Oh, thank god. I was so nervous you’d say no. I never do that. Thank you for not saying no. Not that you couldn’t have said no—it would have been completely fine and obviously within your rights to—”

His phone rings again. Both of you are relieved that he was interrupted—but admittedly you thought his rambling was super cute.

“I should—”

“You definitely need to go.”

“Yeah,” he agrees with a still-breathless smile. “Um—what’s your number?”

You look around fruitlessly for pen and paper.

“I don’t—”

“Just tell me. I’ll remember.”

He’s so weird.

A breeze hits your skin as he opens the door. You’re already writing your wedding vows in the back of your mind as you watch him go.

part four

#spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x you #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fic

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namfinessed · 3 months

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ex-things - m.yg.

genre: angst (after breakup!) (4.8k)

summary: over the years, everything you've owned has belonged to yoongi and everything yoongi's owned has belonged to you but when you break up, everything is your's and everything is his but none of it belongs to the two of you anymore and both of you can't stand it.

masterlist

“scarf,” you say as soon as yoongi appears at the door, you fail to hide your smile when he throws his head back in exasperation and throws the door open.

you push past him and enter his apartment which looked…exactly the same.

but then again, you did just break up some ten minutes ago so, of course, it would be the same.

you don’t know why you expected the universe to shift just because your heart was broken.

and as you throw back the cushions on his sofa, push the things on his coffee table, look under the sofa and table, and walk past him to check the coat rack and then the kitchen, you feel his piercing gaze following your every step.

you knew where it was.

it was in your bedroom.

or well, his bedroom now.

“can you hurry the fuck up?” he groans and in that second, you eye the black plastic cover filled with two or three soju bottles sitting on his kitchen counter.

you swallow and yell back, “can you just let me look for my scarf in peace?”

another groan.

a stomp on the floor.

“fuck, i’ll mail it to you,” yoongi makes his way into the kitchen with loud steps and you arch your eyebrow at him, then look towards the green bottles shining on his counter, he closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and spits out, “i was going to drink today before anything ever happened, don’t feel too special.”

“really?” you muse, clinking them against each other, and in the next second, yoongi’s hand is wrapped around your wrist and he’s pulling you, gently, towards the door.

“i’ll send it when i find it,” he murmurs as he pushes your coat, your car keys, and your phone into your hands, and you don’t say anything for a while.

you clutch your belongings and stand by the door until you notice how yoongi's eyes are bloodshot, their usual sharpness dulled by exhaustion. his shoulders rounded with an invisible weight, and you feel guilty for leaving.

“a-are you okay?” you ask, it feels stupid to ask because you know, you were the same as him.

he laughs bitterly and throws you a glare, you notice how his hands tremble beside his body, and you look away to save him and yourself from the pain of asking again.

“i just broke up with my girlfriend of three years, so yeah, i’m doing fantastic,” he breathes out, you wonder if it pains him like it’s paining you to hear his words, “now, can you leave?” yoongi gestures towards the door again.

you sigh, “wait a minute,” and enter your his home again.

“what now?” he throws his hands in the air and stomps after you.

he watches you grab the scarf from under his bed, he turns his eyes away when he sees your hands shaking while holding it, “did you know where it was?” yoongi breathes out, his face and voice in disbelief.

you don’t say anything again.

and when you leave, he pours himself glass over glass to forget the trembling of your jaw and how you paced around the apartment while knowing exactly where you kept the scarf.

he laughs again, the sound is strange, rough, and just wrong without your laugh chiming with him.

he pours himself a glass again.

it’s been a week.

“hi,” you say as yoongi walks into his house, he jumps a little, clutching his chest as his eyes widen to look for you.

you raise a hand to wiggle your fingers at him as a ‘hello, hi, ex-boyfriend, you’re back at your home and so am i!’ and yoongi blinks.

“what the fuck are you doing here?”

“oh, i was loo-“

“wait wait, how did you even get in?” yoongi frantically marched to his front door and twisted the knob to check for any damages and you roll your eyes.

“i found your key under the potted plant. speaking of which, do you want to get robbed or something, why would you even put it there?” you throw your hands in the air as you sip tea, grimacing as the strange, bitter taste of yoongi’s favorite green tea spreads in your mouth.

“first of all, stop drinking my tea, you don’t even like it” you put the cup down with a sheepish smile and fold your hands on the table.

“and second of all, i didn’t think i had to worry about any ex-girlfriends breaking in, my bad,” yoongi complains loudly and you press your palms to your ears, shaking your head, “i’m not even here to see you, i’m here for…well, i’m here for,” you struggle to finish the sentence.

and yoongi glares at you.

“what is it?” as he moves his head to pin his glare on you, his soft, freshly straightened hair moves with him.

“straightener!” you say loudly, clapping your hands, and yoongi’s eyebrows narrow again, “you’re going to get wrinkles, yoongi.” you point at his eyebrows but he doesn’t let up, you’re sure that his eyebrows furrowed deeper.

“okay! i’ll be on my way once i get that,” you wander off into his bedroom and yoongi throws his head back in exasperation.

your straightener is easy to find because well, it’s not yours, it’s his and it’s just sitting on his vanity but yoongi doesn’t bat an eye at that.

he only watches you move around his home with his arms crossed on his chest and an unreadable satisfaction on his face.

and when you leave, you can’t help but notice that for all his annoyance, he never tells you to not come back, and he never tells you to find everything you own and leave at once.

with that knowledge, you leave his home with the biggest grin on your face.

“you need to get out before my booty call gets here,” you happily eat your ice cream on the kitchen counter as yoongi walks into your home as if he owned it.

did you mention that he was the one to bring you ice cream?

your favorite too, one scoop of hazelnut and one scoop of brownie.

“ha ha, very funny, you should start thinking of a career in stand-up” he responds with a roll of his eyes and you giggle even more, sliding down to catch up with his pace around your home.

“what are you here for?”

“t-shirt, you know the one you stole,” yoongi shrugs and glares again, walking right into your room and you follow with hands closed behind your back, “which one?” you muse as you remember all the (10) t-shirts you’ve stolen from him.

he looks back as he nears the closet, eyes narrowing at you, “how many do you have?”

“how many can you remember that i have?”

yoongi groaned in sheer frustration and you crawled on your bed, watching him pick apart your closet, and glaring at you whenever he found one of his t-shirts in there.

for a moment, it was amusing.

it was the funniest thing to watch yoongi get annoyed, you always enjoyed it.

but in the next moment, when he was around his fifth t-shirt, you felt this ache slowly develop in your chest and spread across your throat and then your mouth, then it was everywhere.

it was this dull throbbing that you couldn’t shake and your eyes dropped to fiddle with your fingers instead of looking at him, collecting his belongings from your home.

because, just two weeks ago, it had been your t-shirts too, hadn’t they? and it wasn’t just your home then, it was yours and his, wasn’t it? sure, you had separate apartments but it never felt like that, it felt like you had two homes and both homes belonged to both of you.

and now, you only had one.

you had wrapped your arms around his back when he was in your room two weeks ago, he was here now but you couldn’t even touch a hair on his head without feeling like you’ve crossed a line.

your head was starting to collect the ache and make a home for it so you ask, “are you almost done?”

you didn’t mean to ask him that, you actually very, very badly wanted yoongi never to leave so you could believe again, ‘i have two homes, i have two toothbrushes, two mugs, two keys, two doors, and two of everything’ but yoongi pauses, he collects the t-shirts he found and nods, “yeah, i’m done.”

when he walks out of your room, the ache finally takes over your head and you follow him with dazed eyes and stumbling feet.

at the door, yoongi stops, he turns around with concern brimming in his eyes and that is enough for your hands to shake again, “you good?”

“i just broke up with my boyfriend of three years, so yeah, i’m doing fantastic,” you deepen your voice to mimic his and yoongi shakes his head with a small laugh, “you better be okay,” he says at the end, and his voice is so soft, it feels like cotton pressed into your cheeks.

and you nod because if yoongi says you have to be okay, you’ll find a way to be okay.

but when he leaves, you are back to having just one home, with one toothbrush in the bathroom, one mug in the kitchen, one set of keys in your purse, one door, and one of everything else.

and you’re sorry to yoongi.

because you don’t know if you can be okay.

a couple days passed again.

you had an angry yoongi pacing in front of you as you watched.

“you’re being ridiculous,” yoongi shoves a hand through his hair, glaring at you as you sit with arms across your chest and refusing to look at him.

“i’m not,” you huff out and he rolls his eyes.

he did that a lot.

he did that a lot with you.

“i didn’t steal your plushie, are you fucking kidding me?” yoongi whines and walks away into the kitchen to pour himself a drink.

you follow him and right at the doorway, you don’t enter, you just watch his even more sunken eyes and even more rounded shoulders with conflicted eyes.

a part of you wanted to hug him.

a part of you wouldn’t mind killing him.

a part of you wanted to kiss his shoulders to lift them.

a part of you wanted to leave a red mark on his face.

but all parts of you, you couldn’t trust or believe.

these past few days, you couldn’t trust or believe anything actually.

yoongi senses your eyes on him, he knows how you look at him and how you seem to show so much with just a gaze but he holds strong.

you were broken up.

you shouldn’t be here.

hell, he’s not sure if he should be here or not either.

but he betrays himself over and over again, he lets you into his house and you let him into yours, and he feels ridiculous every time he closes your door, he’s not sure what you feel when you close his.

“i threw it away,” he shrugs his shoulders, eye muscles tensing oddly, he’s not sure if you notice or not.

“what?” your whisper is so quiet, yoongi wouldn’t have known you were speaking if he didn’t see your lips moving.

“i threw it, okay? there was no use of it being around here anymore, so i fucking threw it away,” he didn’t mean for his voice to be loud, and he didn’t mean for his words to hurt but maybe he did, maybe he wanted to hurt you.

but he loves you?

but he’s also okay with hurting you.

to an extent.

yoongi had never understood why he couldn’t love properly, why his love for others and himself had to hold a touch of pain, a touch of misery, but it was always out of his control.

it had been different with you.

for a while, that is.

but he was back to his roots now, pain and misery and love and affection held his hands and danced around him.

and he had to dance with them too.

“i threw it,” he repeated, but your plushie was tucked into his pillows, into his sleep, and into his days and nights.

it was stained with salty tears now, it was stained with the ice cream he ate after he left your home, and he didn’t want you to see it.

for a moment, you both didn’t even twitch in the wrong direction, yoongi watched the dark liquid in his cup with growing intensity and you waited for him to tell you that your plushie was safe.

“fine,” you sniffled, grabbing your coat and stomping to the door and yoongi followed, he tried not to but his feet walked ahead of his mind.

at the door, you angrily shoved your feet into your sneakers and pushed your hair out of your face, as if to prove that you weren’t crying, that you weren’t affected and anyone else would believe you.

but yoongi knows you.

and he knows your red nose and cheeks can only mean one thing.

before you close his door, you say, “you’re a horrible person, yoongi.”

he thinks he knows what you feel when you close his door now.

hatred.

you swore to yourself that that would be the last time you turn up at his place, but you had genuinely forgotten something there and needed it this time, so you swallowed your pride and rang his doorbell.

you don’t greet him when he opens the door and yoongi feels like he could fall to his knees when you shove a bag with his favorite ice cream, matcha, and coffee (he’s a caffeine guy, he runs on it), into his hands and yoongi knows he’s forgiven.

“i forgot my trousers here,” you mumble afterward and head straight into his closet to dig through for the work trousers that you cannot live without.

yoongi doesn’t dare to utter a word, he looks through his closet beside you and apologizes when his skin touches yours in any little way.

you can’t believe there was a time when you would touch him as if his body was yours too and he would touch you the same. but his apologies just dug the truth deeper into your skin, which was that you didn’t belong to him, and he didn’t belong to you.

so, you nod, you bear your cheeks heating up and thighs going weak, and just look through his neatly organized piles of clothes too.

he used to organize your stuff too, he used to section them, fold them, and keep them neatly by his clothes.

that’s how you find your trousers, crisp folds, and fresh-smelling, right beside his work clothes.

and your heart squeezes as you pull it out.

the folds loosen, the trousers limp in your hands, and that small change in its structure, makes you think of yoongi and everything that fell apart with him.

when you leave that day, you pause at the door and whisper, “you’re not horrible, yoongi, but maybe i am, maybe i ruined everything, but please don’t hate me.”

before he can catch you and wipe your tears and tell you that you were right last time, he was the horrible one, he was the one who texted late, who came home late, who missed birthdays, but you were already running away and he was left with a lit cigarette burning his throat.

“i swear, it was here,” yoongi shifts the things around your closet, head buried deep in shelves and racks of clothes and shoes, you stand at the doorway with your arms crossed against your chest, trying not to roll your eyes.

“and you have a million other headphones, so i don’t understand why you would need to find this one,” you step into the room and lazily move things around to try and find it too, yoongi scoffs from a few feet away, “it was special to me,” he says and turns his back to you again.

“why?”

“my grandfather gave it to me,” yoongi huffs, and his hands stay busy.

but.

“your grandfather died when you were five,” there was no way his grandpa gave it to him and you know you’ve caught him.

he could’ve at least tried harder with his lies.

it was strange, seeing him here, standing in your bedroom, surrounded by things that no longer belonged to both of you.

you don’t think you’ll ever get over that feeling of loss.

the moisturizer you would’ve shared with him.

the cheap wig that he would wear to make you laugh.

the razor that you would hide to annoy him.

they only belonged to you now.

though you don’t bring up his grandfather to drive him away, you only say it because it was hard for you to understand why he was here, looking for headphones that he could buy tens of pairs of.

he pauses, you wait for him to say something else, or lie about a friend who didn’t exist who gave it to him, lie about his dad giving it to him.

but yoongi doesn’t say anything.

he keeps looking.

you refused to keep anything that touched you in the last three years.

well, except for some things.

“yoongi,” you call out, pointing towards the unopened box in your closet and he turns his head that way, quickly walking over to it and flipping it upside down.

the photo album that carried your first anniversary.

the promise ring that he gave you on your second anniversary.

the matching couple t-shirt which he cringed at but wore whenever he could.

the.

so many the’s and so many first’s and second’s of things that you kept, though ‘kept’ was the wrong word, you treasured these things, you loved them.

and all of them fell on the floor with noise that shook your ears and chest, not because of the volume but because it was like you were pouring your heart in front of him.

but you loved them in the past, you liked to think that you did and you were in the present now, watching yoongi eye the things you gathered without his knowledge.

and all of it was only yours now.

“when did you keep this here?” he asks, and you immediately know he’s asking about the simple diamond ring that everyone thought was your engagement ring.

but it was just a promise ring.

and you removed it when, “that day you didn’t come for my birthday,” you mumbled, picking up the things and putting them back where they belonged.

buried inside a box.

shoved into a closet.

but before, you pull out his headphones from the box and hang it over your head for him to take.

when he takes it, his fingers touch the smallest part of your palm and your eyes gather tears as if rivers were breaking a dam in them.

yoongi stands without saying a word for a long time but then he walks to the door, “you’re not going to close your door?”

you’re not coming to see me off?

you get up unwillingly and walk to the door without sneaking another glance at him and drop the ring into his palm, “bye, yoongi.”

his hands tighten around the band of platinum.

both of you look at the dangly, worn-out wires of his headphones that hang from his other hand.

you had given them to him for your first anniversary.

not his dead grandpa or dad or friend.

it was you.

and both of you refused to acknowledge that fact.

and when yoongi finally leaves, he leaves behind a space in the air that waits for him to come back and take his place again, in your life, in your home, in your space.

but he doesn’t turn back.

and you close the door, letting the space remain.

a few days went by again.

neither of you showed up at each other’s doors anymore.

neither of you had anything left to collect.

neither of you had anything that belonged to the other.

and it was strange, the quiet, the loneliness that crept on your back and it always hit at the most unexpected of times.

when you poured your cereal in the morning, you realized you were holding the box that you had bought while grocery shopping with yoongi, it was your favorite time of the month, the one time you could really feel that he was your person.

but the box was empty by the end of your breakfast and you kept it back in the cabinet.

when you arranged your clothes, you saw your messy folding and fell back on the pile of clothes that still needed folding.

how yoongi did this every day, you had no clue.

but as you lay in pieces of cotton, linens, satins, sequins, and many more materials that hugged and pinched you, you couldn’t help but think that surely, yoongi wouldn’t leave you like this, there has to be something of his that you still own.

there has to be something.

so, you got up and with renewed desperate energy, you started searching.

you pulled upon every desk, every closet door, every nook and cranny, you searched with shaking hands and watery eyes.

“there has to be something, there has to be,” you whispered to yourself, your voice choking as things fall over from the tall walls, they fall on your feet, and your toes, and a sharp pain hits you every single time, but you push through.

because.

there has to be something.

you can’t end it like this.

you and yoongi cannot end like this.

anyone else can.

but not you, not him and you.

and the closets you look through stay ajar, the desks you’ve emptied stay tipped over, and everything you own is on the floor.

but there is none of yoongi in any of it.

so, you sink.

you sink to your knees, sobbing and flipping over items as you reach them.

because goddamit, there has to be something.

when the bell first rings, you don’t register it, you are way too intent on the clutter in front of you.

but then it rings.

and rings.

and rings, again and again.

relentless.

and you push yourself up, hoping it’s no one you know because you don’t think you can explain the tears on your face.

but when you open the door, your mouth goes dry and you know you don’t have to explain anything.

because across from you, is a red-eyed yoongi and he’s carrying a box.

“can i come in?” is all he asks, his voice barely a whisper and you’re already opening the door and pulling him in.

but once he’s in your home, in your space again, the familiar soft and sharp scent of him, the sight of him, it was too much. you couldn’t breathe. your eyes never leave him, every breath he took, every shift of his fingers, every fall of his chest, all of it was dancing in your eyes and for the love of god, you couldn’t look away.

he sets the box down and stands there with his hands opening and closing around nothing, and you want to grab them, you want to spread them across your cheeks and feel his warmth, which was sometimes cold too but you didn’t mind, you never minded with yoongi.

but instead, you curl your hands behind your back and stop yourself because it still wasn’t right.

“i don’t have anything of yours,” you start, voice already breaking, “anymore,” you finish with hands tightening so hard around each other that you could feel the bruises blooming on their surface.

“i know,” he takes a sharp inhale of breath and looks away from you and you want to beg him to look at you.

for a second, it’s just you reliving every second you weren’t with him and it’s him looking at your apartment that was void of anything personal, anything that called it a home.

“i want all of it back,” he sniffs, looking at you finally, you want to take it back, you aren’t sure how you survived three years of his eyes only on you and you squeeze your door handle, “all of what?” you whisper, and he sniffs again, “your stuff, all of it, your stupid scarf, your straightener, everything, i want all of it back, in my place, in our place, where it belongs.” he says it so quietly, so earnestly and each word has you pulling your skin tighter.

“your plushie is in this, i never threw it away but i’m taking it back, my t-shirts and headphones are in this, i’m leaving them here,” he bends over the box and starts picking things apart, and each thing he pulls out, fills you with relief.

but.

“but that isn’t right, yoongi,” you try to defend, “we aren’t together anymore,” you hate the words as they surface out of you and yoongi shakes his head.

“but is this right?” he lifts his hands from the box, his jaw trembling again and you instinctively smooth your hand over it and yoongi pushes his face into your hands.

“is it right, both of us miserable?” he whispers and the world bottoms out from underneath you, suddenly gravity is nothing and you’re both floating towards each other.

“but i hurt you,” you grip his headphones and this time, his tears fall the same as yours do, “i hurt you too.” he places a hand on your knees and that cold warmth, that bare touch leaves you open.

“but i’m done, i don’t want to hurt you anymore,” yoongi begs, he shakes his head as he says it as if he can’t believe there was a time that he had hurt you but you’re the same, you can’t believe that you hurt him once.

“before you came here, i was looking for something, anything that was yours so i could come back,” you sniffed loudly, your voice falling and lifting and yoongi listens with eyes that have always looked at you, “but i didn’t find anything, yoongi and it killed me.” your voice fully gives up as you bury your face into your hands and immediately, you feel his arms pulling you into his chest and his hands running down your hair.

“you don’t have to do that anymore, i’m back see,” he tips your face towards him and his smile is so soft, so real that it makes you smile too, “i’m not going anywhere.” he assures you with a kiss on the top of your head and your watery eyes dry out.

“me too, i don’t want this anymore, i want us, i want two of everything, i want you and i want everything,” you utter back to him, the weight of the words floating between you too.

“and you have it, you have everything again, the ring is in there too but that is for whenever you’re ready.” he kisses you again and you snuggle into his embrace, feeling like you’ve lost centuries of holding him, the thought of the ring swells your chest into a balloon that could snap, “that will take time, but thank you,” you whisper, kissing where his shoulders met his neck.

“like i said, whenever you’re ready but it will always belong to you.” yoongi whispers back and you smile in pure delight, nodding along to his words.

“we were stupid for thinking that we could stay apart,” you laugh hesitantly into his chest, the idea of the two of you trying to be separate was ridiculous to you and yoongi laughs with you, which makes you melt into his body, because it was ridiculous, you were two parts of a whole, two houses in a home, two mugs in a kitchen, two keys in your purse, two toothbrushes in one bathroom and two of everything else that you could think of.

and that was how it should’ve been, that was how it was always meant to be.

somewhere in the night, yoongi crawls up your sheets and your plushie is between the two of you and you make fun of him for acting as if he threw it away, he rolls his eyes and shushes you with a kiss.

“by the way, that straightener is yours, not mine,” you whisper and he is aghast, “i fucking knew it,” he yells and sits up, and immediately starts to complain “you know how stupid i’ve been looking with hair that looks just like holly’s!”

and you remind him, playfully this time, that what was yours was his, and what was his was yours and he falls on the bed, grumbling under his breath and complaining until the sun comes up.

and it feels right, everything that belonged to you and him back in their place, back in their homes and yoongi, back in your life, your home, and your space.

just as it should be, just as it was meant to be.

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siddyyyyyyyy · 1 month

Text

Red Knight in Shining Armour

Red Hood x Reader

wc: 1.3 K; part two summary: You ask Red Hood for help from a creep and he does so warnings: cat calling a/n: Something possessed me and I had to write this small drabble. Might consider writing more parts to it, dunno

Finally, you‘ve finished your shift in that overly warm bakery. After taking care of mostly elderly customers, baking fresh goods, and taking care of some more rather demanding customers, you could make your way home. The fresh february air hits you as you step before closing the small bakery, making your way to the busstop. Gotham is not known for warm or sunny weather, especially during the shortest month of the year. This is why you wrap your scarf tighter around you, making sure you won‘t catch a cold with the freezing wind that flies right against you. You eventually reach your desired destination, satisfied the bus is already standing there, possibly waiting for you.

As soon as you reach it, he cheekily drives away and leaves you waiting for the next bus… in two hours.

Now, of course you wouldn‘t wait two freezing hours around eleven PM in Gotham. It‘s probably safer and way faster to just walk the half an hour to your apartment. With that logic, you start trotting home, feeling a little moody now. What kind of bus driver just drives away even when a person clearly walks towards it? Muttering incoherent insults at the bus driver, you make sure to keep yourself warm enough at the same time. Your coat is doing a mostly good job at keeping you from trembling, so does your thick scarf. But you wish you brought your warm hat with you.

You tense at hearing heavy steps behind you. Sure, Gotham is definitely not the safest city, but you never had to actively protect yourself from any dangers because you always had the bus! That goddamn bus is driving you nuts, to the point you don‘t notice the strange man approaching you closer. He‘s about a few feet away from you now, finally raising his voice.

»Hey, princess! Are you lost?«

You finally glance behind your shoulder, not having expected for him to actually be a little closer to you now. Oh, he is taller than you. And has his hands in his pockets. This doesn‘t look good at all.

You quickly turn your head forward again, quickening your steps to get home faster and escape this creepy goon. He doesn‘t relent though and follows you, his hood over his head in a really suspicious way. You turn into a dark alley, cursing yourself internally for needing to go in there in order to get home faster. The alley is dark but also pretty long, as if a neverending hallway. Finally, the alleyway has an opening, walking a little faster again to escape the creep, but you also have to be careful not to slip on some ice.

A flash of red is appearing in the cornor of your eye, instinctively looking over to your side. Without further hesitancy, you hurry to the infamous vigilante and glance behind your shoulder briefly again.

»Red Hood! Please, there‘s someone following me, please pretend to be my boyfriend! Please!«

You plead desperately and stay by his side, your heart racing more from the paranoia of being followed and also from being so close to the real Red Hood, asking for help.

The vigilante doesn‘t flinch from his spot, studying you briefly before looking to the direction you just came from. The scary creep appears now too, eyes trained on you under his hood and possibly not even scared of the Crime Lord standing right beside you.

Without thinking, Red Hood wraps his arm around your shoulder and straightens his posture. The goon finally glances at him before his eyes fall back on you.

»C‘mon, sweetie, aren‘t you gonna spend time with me?« You shake your head urgently and press yourself more into Red‘s side, the hard material of his armour flush against your own soft coat.

»Does she know you?« The man beside you almost snarls, his voice a little distorted from his red helmet. An almost mocking scoff escapes the creep in front of you, staying there with some distance.

»Does it matter?«

A shudder runs down your spine at the words, making Red Hood squeeze your shoulder lightly with his hand.

He guides you to stand more behind him, glaring at the man under his helmet, feeling the strong urge to just beat him up into pieces. Still, he acts without any physical violence, not wanting to scare you even more.

»Listen here, you son of a bitch. Either, you go back the way you came here, or you won‘t recognise your face the next morning. If you‘ll wake up.«

He threatens, which makes the other man take a small step back. He seems to consider something, glancing to you as you still stand behind the vigilante. After what seems like a few minutes of tense silence, the weirdo walks away from you both.

You exhaled relievedly, stepping closer to Red Hood again.

»Thank you so much! You just probably saved my life from him, I don‘t know how to pay you back.«

He looks to you again, his expression unreadable due to his helmet. But he does shake his head and holds one of his hands up lightly.

»No need to, lady. I‘m always here for help, don‘t worry.«

Red feels lightly weird calming down a random person, but he feels like he needs to. After all, he just pried a man – a really creepy bastard – from you. And it feels wrong to ask for something in return for it. He never does that sort of stuff.

»Well, still… You know what? You can visit my bakery, I‘ll give you a treat. On the house, of course!«

He feels surprised at your request, thinking over your suggestion for a moment.

»I‘ll see what I can do.« He pauses before saying goodbye, glancing around the area briefly.

»Do you need a ride home? It‘s not safe around midnight.«

Now it‘s your turn to be surprised, mulling over the suggestion. It‘s only twenty minutes until you‘re back home safely, but you also don‘t want to be a further bother to him. Eventually, you decide to be truthful.

»I was just planning on walking the last twenty minutes home. I don‘t want to bother you any longer...«

Another sudden wind goes past you, which makes you wrap your scarf tighter around your neck again, the action not going unnoticed by him. Finally, despite his own pride, he suggests taking you home with his bike. You feel star-struck, never having thought someone like him – no, Red Hood would give you a ride home. After saving you, too.

Not able to miss such an opportunity, you agree, and he helps you put on his extra helmet for the quick ride. Luckily, he knows this area of the city well, just needing the name of your address, and he knows which route he needs to take.

»Hold on tight, yeah?« At this point, he muted his comms, as well as the others, not wanting for them to hear you both and the other way around. He starts driving you back to your apartment complex, feeling a small thrill as you sit behind him and have your arms wrapped around his torso. Every time he makes a turn, you hold on even tighter to him, not used to riding a motorcycle at all.

Eventually, after some minutes of driving, you arrive, and he helps you get off the bike. You take off the extra helmet he gave you, ruffling your hair to let it look less messy from the helmet. He watches, taking the helmet from you, and eventually leaves on his bike, but not without memorising your street and face. Just in case.

Finally, you made it home, having a big story to tell your best friend tomorrow morning at work.

»You‘ve got a girlfriend now, Jaybird?«

Dick‘s smug voice chimes into his earpiece once he turns the comms on again.

»None of your business, Dickhead.« Jason grumbles back, earning a brief scolding from Bruce to use their callsigns again.

←MASTERLIST

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violetrainbow412-blog · 1 year

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Bolinus brandaris [S. R]

Spencer Reid x fem!reader

word count: 1.6k

and by public demand, part. 2

summary: Reid loves the gift you just gave him and the whole team can notice.

"Everyone ready to go back?" Gideon asked, taking a quick look at the jet to make sure all of you were there. You had an extortion case quite far from home, Miami to be exact, and you had a long flight back to Quantico, so the last thing he wanted was to forget someone.

Miami was a beautiful place that you would have liked to visit in other circumstances, that had nothing to do with crimes at all, since you had always felt a certain weakness for the warm climate, the sticky breeze, and the sound of the waves that were on the beach.

You had only had the chance to go to a mall to buy a new outfit, because yours had been completely ruined, while Morgan took advantage of the wait to buy an ice cream popsicle. It hadn't been a dream ride, but it was something at least.

“I feel like I could sleep for 90 hours straight,” you sighed, closing your eyes and falling into Spencer's side as usual. You two were the youngest, he was younger than you of course, so it was easier to connect with him than the other members of the team. You seemed to have similar interests and he was strangely comfortable with you.

“You would actually need to wake up periodically to expel fluids or you would risk bursting your bladder or even your bowels, because even though your digestive system shuts down when you sleep it only does so for a certain number of hours. Maybe you could sleep for 14 or 17 hours, which is what a baby sleeps, but 90 seems excessive to me even if you do not consume drinks or food before doing so”

"It's an expression, Reid" you laughed, but without the intention of making him feel bad for having answered you that way. Sometimes it was necessary to explain to him that you weren't being serious, as obvious as this seemed.

"You can sleep through the whole trip" he argued and although you still had your eyes closed you assumed that he had shrugged "I'll wake you up if you start snoring"

"I don't snore!" you defended yourself, playfully smacking him on the arm and hearing him laugh. Somehow watching him led you to remember a chain of events ending in the package you had carefully stowed in your bag and you almost jumped out of your seat the next second: "Wait, I just remembered something" you reported and went to the baggage area to rummage through your suitcase, taking just a few minutes to be back in your seat “I bought you this”

"Me?" he asked in disbelief. The others were on their own business enough to notice your conversation, making the moment a bit more private.

“I looked at it and just thought of you. Although I don't know if you're going to like it” you said shyly, handing him something wrapped in a paper bag with a store sticker on it. You had found the gift when you went shopping for your clean outfit and a part of you had been anxious all day to be able to give it to him to watch his reaction.

Reid looked at it curiously and handled it carefully, as if he were afraid it would fall apart in his fingers, until he managed to open it and took a piece of cloth from it.

"A scarf?"

“I saw you in one the other day and I thought you might like them. You know, you always wear your vests under your coats and your ties and you're always overdressed, but in a cute way” you laughed, while you pointed your hands at your body pretending to touch the pieces of his outfit "But it's okay if you don't want to wear it"

"No! I mean yes. I want to use it” he reassured you. Spencer held it out to look at it more carefully: it was purple, a stripe in the middle of patterned colored rhombuses intertwined with some embroidery of branches with leaves in black. "Did you know that the color purple is related to royalty because of how difficult it was to obtain the pigment before the Christian era? It is obvious that artificial dyes didn’t exist at that time, so everything they dyed the fabrics with had to be obtained from nature and that particular tone was quite difficult to obtain because it came from Bolinus brandaris, an extremely rare species of sea snail. To obtain 1 gram of this substance it is necessary to have 10,000 snails. And that gram was barely enough to dye a small piece. Its value and the difficulty in mass-producing it is due to the fact that the substance obtained had to be left to dry in the sun for a very precise time to be used later. Half a kilo of wool dyed in that color cost what would now be equivalent to around 300,000 euros,” he said, still holding the scarf as he rambled on. "It is also related to liturgical attire, it symbolizes power, wisdom, and is the perfect combination between the energy of red and the calm of blue”

“Oh yeah, I… I knew all that before I bought it, I didn't choose it just because I think purple brings out your eyes” you blatantly lied, making your friend laugh tenderly.

“What I meant to say is that I like it” he added, a little embarrassed by the smile and attention with which you had been observing him. You always did that when he wandered off, leaving him helpless and not knowing how to react.

"You said it has to do with wisdom, right?" you exclaimed and he nodded gently "Do you think there's some weird psychological reason why my brain knew that and linked it to you or was it just a coincidence?"

"Well, it's hard to explain..." he began to say, turning a little in his seat to be closer to you and begin a long explanation about the connections that our brain creates with things and people.

You were completely exhausted but you didn't have the heart to stop him from saying anything he had to say and you listened intently as much as your body would allow, until eventually you were lulled to sleep by the sound of Spencer's soft voice. When he stopped hearing your hums he realized that you had already fallen asleep and he moved your body carefully until you were completely reclining on the chair, so that when you woke up the physical pain of sleeping on the plane would be less. He, for his part, stayed in the seat next to you sheltered your rest, and at some point ended up asleep too.

The day after she came back from Miami, Spencer was already wearing the scarf you gave him. He had matched it with a brown coat, a vest in a darker shade of purple than the scarf, and a white shirt that together made him look perfect. Also, his well-brushed straight hair fell to the side and his tanned skin looked particularly clean.

You didn’t need to tell him anything because the smile you gave him when you looked him up and down was reason enough for him to be flattered and also proud to receive your approval. All day you watched him, a bit for the garment and a bit for the very pleasure of admiring him, and you noticed that he frequently checked that everything about him looked good, as if he was trying to impress you. Every time he spoke he avoided looking at you, only at you, but you couldn't take your eyes off him.

The day after that he used it too and the next day and the next, to the point where it was strange to see him go anywhere without it, as if it had become a part of him. After a week, while they waited in the boardroom, Elle finally had the courage to face the situation and ask Spencer why the particular choice for something for everyday use.

"It's that his girlfriend gave it to him" answered Morgan, before the brunette could say anything.

"What? No! Y/N is not my girlfriend” he said, completely embarrassed and making sure with his eyes that you weren't around to hear that.

"Oh, now I understand" JJ joined the conversation.

"You understand what?"

“You are always taking care that it doesn’t get dirty or stained”

"Yes, I don't like my clothes to get ruined"

"But more so if it's something his girlfriend gave him" insisted Morgan and in a fit that no one expected Spencer took a ball of paper and threw it at his face. That just got a collective laugh.

"I just like it. That's all”

"We all know you like her, Reid," added Hotch, who had kept quiet thus far and didn't even look up from the files. He flushed red to the ears as the rest of the team shared another laugh, and just seconds later you and Gideon walked through the door.

"Good morning"

"Good morning" answered the others, like school children before the arrival of a teacher. There was one seat left next to Morgan that Gideon took and that forced you into the only remaining chair between Elle and Spencer.

“Did I miss something interesting?” you murmured, leaning into him and smiling close to his face.

"No" he replied kindly, feeling your gaze drop from his eyes.

"Your scarf," you said, reaching out your hands to move it a little around his neck "It was out of place"

Everyone else, except for Gideon, shared knowing glances and stifled giggles as they watched the nervous way he thanked you. It didn't help too much that for the entire meeting you were completely distracted looking at your partner next to you, making the whole team wonder when the two of you were finally going to end up kissing.

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #dr spencer reid #matthew gray gubler #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #jason gideon #JJ #penelope garcía

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yanderecrazysie · 7 months

Text

Twisted Zoo Chapter Seven

This is based on the stories of a keeper reader with the octotrio by @ashensgrotto and @merakiui .

Also @twistedcece @cenatour @ursinaw @xiaopleasecomehome @bearshideout @koebishrimpuwu @vash-yuu @help-whatdoimakemyusername @secret-potion @magmdnv @sunshine-for-serotonin @mel-star636 @silkkorchid @thatpersonuouknow @the-ace-reader @pamv11 @coffee-or-hot-cocoa @hrhqueenfox @goseew @luxthestrange @juno-of-wonderland @who-mst @despairingy-obsessed @lanxianschoenheit @ceramic-raven @sirenetheblogger @a13x15a5133p @abcdontbotherme @m0063576 @kimdourden @rammylog @starshiningsirius @im-here-for-the-fun-of-it @the-monochrome-jester @leleunderscore06 @tinymonke @lonelybluesworld and @thisisafish123 wanted to be tagged! Let me know if anyone else wants to be tagged for future chapters. If you no longer want to be tagged, please tell me! (Some of the tags might not have worked, and I’m sorry if so!)

Summary: You’re a brand new zookeeper at The Halfling Zoo- a place where half-animals live in captivity. Your job is simple- feed them and study them. Your main worry is that one of the more dangerous halflings might kill you.

Unfortunately, that may become the least of your worries.

WARNINGS: none

Previous Part: Chapter Six

Next Part: Chapter Eight

Note: All characters are aged up, since there will be mature themes in future parts.

Also, I can’t promise I’ll finish this. I suck at finishing stories.

—-------------------------------------------------------

You balanced the boxes of donuts in one hand while you pulled open the door to the savannah exhibit open. Then, you slid inside, happily carrying the boxes through the heated exhibit. The heat was already causing beads of sweat to appear on your brow, so you made sure to hurry.

The hyenas were where they were the other day, by the waterfront, chatting animatedly between each other. At least, they were until Ruggie yelled “Hey!” and, in a storm of dust, raced over to meet you.

Ruggie stood in front of you, eyes gleaming, no signs of being afraid of you anymore, “You brought donuts!”

“Yes, I did promise you that I would!” you said with a laugh.

Ruggie wrapped his arms around you and placed his head on your stomach in a strange hug. You couldn’t really hug back with the donuts in your arms, but it made you smile all the same.

“What kind do you want?” you asked, opening the top box. Ruggie snatched up a chocolate frosted donut with rainbow sprinkles and plopped himself down on the dry grass below, chowing down on the donut without leaving time to breathe between bites.

“Slow down, Ruggie, you’re gonna choke,” you laughed, motioning for him to calm down. Ruggie looked up at you with a mouth full of donut and he looked so innocent you couldn’t help but melt a little.

He tried to say something, but it was muffled by the chocolate in his mouth. He seemed to realize you couldn’t understand him, so he chewed, swallowed, and said, “All for me?”

“Nooo, everyone gets a donut,” you laughed, “You are not eating 36 donuts on your own.”

Ruggie pouted and continued to chomp on the rest of his donut. The other hyenas came up and each took their own donut. Once they were all finished, you picked up another chocolate sprinkled donut and handed it to Ruggie, “One for the road, hon.”

“Road? Hon?” Ruggie was confused, tilting his head at you as he tried to understand.

“It’s a phrase and a nickname,” you said, patting Ruggie’s fluffy hair gently, “Don’t worry about it.”

Ruggie leaned into your touch as he scarfed down the new donut. You waved goodbye to the hyenas, who all hesitantly gave you a little wave back, before heading across the savannah to the far end, where the lions laid.

“Hey guys!” you yelled, “Who wants donuts?”

No response. Oh well, you were used to that.

“Hey Leona, which donut would you like?” you asked the king of the savannah.

“I eat meat, not sweets,” he replied coldly.

“Have you ever had one before?” you asked coyly, “Or are you just trying to avoid me?”

Leona’s jaw hardened and, after a moment of glaring at you, he held out one hand with claws extended, “Give me a donut.”

“You have to pick which kind,” you explained, “There’s too many flavors.”

Leona growled, but he allowed you to open the box and show off its contents to him. Leona reached for a powder sugar donut and gasped in surprise when he saw his fingertips, “This donut! Its white covering sticks to your paws!”

You tried not to laugh, “Yeah, powder sugar gets everywhere, but it’s really good.”

Leona raised the donut to his mouth hesitantly. You smiled encouragingly and he tentatively took a bite. His eyes fluttered closed at the sweetness and he let out a pleased hum.

“Still don’t like sweets?” you teased.

“You were right, herbivore,” Leona conceded.

The lion halfling sat up on the rock and called out to the other lions, “Take one donut each! Do not be tempted to take more just because of their sweet flavor.”

“Thanks, Leona” you said, turning the box so the other lions could see. One by one, they each took a donut.

You watched them eat (and Leona lick powdered sugar off of his claws) for a while before you realized the sun was starting to go down. You bid them goodbye, not realizing that Leona’s eyes followed you until you were out of sight, licking his lips both from the powdered sugar and the predatory instincts he felt around you.

You finally left the hot savannah and headed for the wolf exhibit. A little girl came up to you and asked if she could have a donut. “Of course you can!” you said cheerfully, letting her pick from the leftovers.

From his perch not far away, Leona’s eyes narrowed, one thought going through his head until you disappeared into the wolf exhibit. You would make a good mother.

Unaware of Leona’s dark thoughts, you walked through the wolf exhibit. You barely made it a few feet when the wolves popped out from their places behind the trees.

“What do you want with us?” one of the wolves snarled, “You keep returning!”

“I’m a researcher,” you explained calmly, “I have to come back, that’s my job.”

“What’s that you’ve got there?” another wolf demanded to know.

“Donuts!” you said happily, opening up the box and showing it to the halflings. Disgusted, they backed away into the shadows without another word. You sat down on a tree stump, disappointed by their reaction.

“Donuts,” a gruff voice said. You instantly brightened when you realized Jack had stuck around.

“Yes, would you like one?” you asked. He nodded and sat down in the grass next to you, taking a random donut from the box without really looking. His eyes lit up at the flavor and he began devouring it like a man starved.

Pretty soon the both of you decided to split the remaining dozen. You both chowed down and, by the time it was over, you felt like your stomach may burst. Even so, you and Jack smiled at each other.

“Frosting,” Jack said, shyly reaching out his thumb to brush away some crumbs on your lips. He leaned in close and, for a moment, you thought he was about to kiss you. Instead, he nuzzled your cheek affectionately. You wondered if he could feel the heat radiating from it.

Jack placed a gentle kiss on your temple and your face grew even warmer. “I… um… I should probably get going.”

It wasn’t just an excuse- it really was getting dark outside. Jack backed away with a nod and escorted you to the exhibit door. You gave him a pat on the head and he melted into the action, sighing softly at the feeling of your hand on his white hair.

Then, without further ado, you headed on home to write your notes out. A special about lions was playing on TV.

“When a female is in heat, she will mate with a male from any pride, and they will stay together for three or four days. During this time, they will mate every 20–30 minutes, with up to 50 copulations per 24 hours.”

“Jesus Christ,” you muttered, “That’s crazy. I’m glad I’m not a lion.”

#yandere #yandere x reader #twisted wonderland #yandere twisted wonderland

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santaasi · 4 months

Text

stay

pairing: james potter x fem!reader

summary: james potter's life doesn't make sense without you

warnings: pure angst, death of the main character, no use of y/n, english isn’t my first language

word count: 1.7k

a/n: part 2 of waiting for you

THE WORLD HAS STOPPED. In a second, the world of James Potter stopped completely concentrating only on you. You were lying on the bed among the lacy white sheets. So beautiful, pale and innocent. Like the first snowdrop peeking out from under a thick crust of snow after a cold, hard winter.

James took an unsteady step towards the bed. Then another one. And one more. You were asleep. He could hear you breathing in that cold crypt-like room. And your chest was slowly rising and falling. He saw your breathing, didn't he? It wasn't an illusion. You were just sleeping. His angel was just sleeping.

A sob escaped Dorcas's lips and James turned a frown on her. She shook her head, pressing a hand to her mouth, stopping quiet cries. What does it mean? Why is Dorcas crying? James didn't understand anything, but that strange oppressive feeling that had arisen as soon as he stepped into the room was still felt all over his body.

"Hey, angel. Why are you sleeping at lunch?" James chuckled, sitting down on the bed. Dorcas tried to touch his shoulder, but he pushed her hand aside, focusing all his attention only on you.

"Angel, come on, wake up. I brought your favorite mints from Honeydukes... you looked so sad today.… And I decided... I decided..." James's voice began to tremble, and a lump stuck in his throat. It couldn't be true.

"Angel, don't joke like that. Please. Open your eyes," the guy whispered, running his gaze over your marble face, on which there was not even a shadow of a smile. You looked as still as a broken doll discarded on the floor, your face a beautiful ruin as James brushed your hair gently away. Your arms lay lifelessly against chest, like broken wings.

"Hey, A-Angel... open those beautiful eyes of yours... come on... open those big beautiful eyes for me... d-don't scare me like that, angel. Don't do this..." James quickly mumbled, grabbing your stone cold hand, lifting your body and pressing it to his chest.

You were cold. Colder than graveyard. But you've always been cold, haven't you? James always had to give you his scarf or gloves when you two went out to Hogsmeade. You were always cold, so it didn't mean anything. But have you ever been so still? So artificial and deathly pale?

"Angel, please…" James pushed you a little away from his chest, peering into your empty face, and you hung lifelessly in his arms. Your head is thrown back, and your hands have fallen on his lap. James's breathing accelerated and he immediately touched your cheek, shaking you slightly, forcing you to wake up. Hoping that you will wake up. But it didn’t work out.

"No-no-no-no… Angel, come on, say something. Don't do this. Don't leave me. No. Nah-ah. Please. Wake up. It's me. I-I... your Jamie... your Potter... your Gerrrronimo… Come on. You can't leave me, angel," the first sob escaped James's lips, and with it came the realization… His angel was dead.

James Potter felt it. From the beginning he felt that there was something wrong with you. He felt like you were distancing yourself from him and avoiding him at all cost. He saw the light in your eyes slowly go out. And heard rumors that went around Hogwarts... but James Potter never believed the rumors. He knew you. He knew that you would have come to him if something had happened. But he was wrong.

His forehead touched yours, which was as cold as ice. Through a vale of tears, he looked at you so beautiful and calm, so alive and at the same time dead. James tucked a strand of silky hair behind your ear and his hand touched your cheek, stroking gently.

"You should have told me... you should have..." James whispered softly, feeling his heart slowly struggling in his chest, echoing with the sound of a metronome in his ears. Tears were running down his reddened cheeks. And he still couldn't wrap his mind around the fact that you were gone.

"I would do anything for you… Angel, do you hear? I would do anything for you.… I'd die for you if you'd just give me a chance.… One small chance" James didn't recognize his voice. He heard it as if from somewhere far away, under a layer of ice in the cold water of the Arctic ocean, sinking deeper to the bottom with every passing second.

You're gone.

"James," Sirius whispered softly, sitting down next to best friend. James just shook his head. He won't let you go. Not now. Never. To let you go was to admit that you were gone. And James Potter couldn't do that.

James inhaled the scent of your vanilla shampoo, which after so many years by your side seemed to surround him wherever he went. He pressed your body closer to him. His fingers tangled in your soft hair, and quiet sobs came from his lips. He could feel how your body was getting colder and colder by the second.

James Potter felt the red thread that connected your lives slowly thinning and losing its color. With every passing second, you felt like sand, grain by grain, spilled through his fingers and James Potter couldn't catch and hold you. For the first time in his life, you were in his arms, but he couldn't catch you.

"No! No! NO!" James felt Sirius's hands on his shoulders, forcing him to let you go. Black was saying something, but James couldn't hear anything. He was in his own world. In a world where you were still there. With him.

"Angel, wake up, please wake up… I'll do anything... I'll throw away that ugly T-shirt that we bought at the flea market... And I-I will listen to all The Beatles records with you! I will learn every single song by heart! Just wake up… just stay with me, please" James felt himself slowly being pulled away from you. He could feel how you slipped through his fingers. How the cold start devouring him from the inside. James could hear sobs, sighs and murmurs filling the room. But none of that mattered.

"I... I'm not going to make pranks on you anymore, angel... I-I... I'm going to buy your favorite mints every day! I'll do anything, wake up, just wake up! Don't leave me!" James's voice broke.

He didn't hear anything, trying his best to remember your voice. He didn't feel like several hands were pulling him away from you, remembering only the touch of your fingers on his skin. And he saw nothing in front of his eyes, except a veil of tears and shared memories that quickly flashed before his eyes. The first smile you gave him when he let your cat down from the tree. The twinkle in your eyes that you've always looked at James with. Your soft skin. Big eyes that seemed to look straight into his soul and heart. Moles, the location of which he knew by heart. The freckles that appeared on the bridge of your nose only in summer and that James could admire for hours. Your hair, which always didn't lie the way you wanted it to. There was an image of you in front of his eyes that he would never see... hear... feel... touch… again.

James Potter fell to his knees exhausted, watching as Miss Pomfrey touches the soft skin of your neck and tries to feel your pulse. James saw her face turn pale in an instant, she pursed her lips and shook her head, looking at someone behind Potter. The room fell silent, and from the depths of James's soul came a brutal animalistic scream of realization and pain that came with it.

James screamed, pounded his fists on the wooden floor, smashing them into blood, buried his fingers in his hair, clutching them in his fists, trying to make himself feel something other than grief. He clung to the robe of Minnie, who sank down next to him, motherly hugging him to her chest, while he was crying his soul out uncontrollably, feeling as if a part of him had died with her. Feeling his whole world turn to ruins and dust.

And then it was all over. He heard Minnie whisper something in his ear, saw the wave of her wand in front of his eyes and there was... void.

An all-consuming, hopeless black void consisting of your laughter, smiles, shining eyes and memories that have turned into pain because there will be no more new ones.

Just like there will be no more of you.

And there will be no more of James Potter either.

You were his everything. And without you, nothing in his life made any sense. And if you were next to him, in this dark cage that he built for himself. You would become the moon and stars for him, who could light his way and lead him the right path, as you have done a million times before.

But you were gone.

And there was no sun, moon, or stars.

And James Potter accepted it as soon as he opened his eyes in a hospital bed at Hogwarts. He accepted it when he carefully packed your things in the dorm in boxes, imagining that this was the last day of school and he was helping you, as he did every year. He accepted it when he was sitting in the library after dinner, looking out the window at the setting sun, imagining that you were sitting next to him and telling him another silly fact about Muggles. He accepted it when he watched your body being buried six feet under, and thought about how you wanted to live next to the sea and meet the sunrises on the beach. James Potter accepted your death when he closed the door of his house with a soft knock after returning from your wake from the house opposite.

But every night, when he went to bed, he cuddled the old brown teddy bear that you gave him when you found out that it was difficult for him to cope with nightmares. He would close his bloodshot eyes and see your face, hear your ringing laughter, feel your fingers in his hair....And he didn't need anything else in this life.

And every night, a minute before he had to return to reality where you were gone, he quietly whispered "Stay" to you, hoping that when he opened his eyes, he would go out into the backyard of his house and see you with a smile on your face.

He hoped that he would see you waiting for him.

You’ve always been waiting only for James Potter.

you asked for it, you got it. honestly, I still don't know how I feel about this sequel, but I hope you enjoyed it anyway! you can always share your opinion in comments or my inbox :3

thankx for reading <3

- your santi 🪐

masterlist

#– santi 🪐#james potter x you #james potter x y/n #james potter imagine #james potter x reader #james potter fic #james potter #james potter angst #marauders fic #marauders x reader #harry potter fic

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luimagines · 12 days

Note

Can I request a thing for Kid!Hero Reader where, before their journey starts, they meet the chain in the marketplace while walking around with the ghost!chain? Kinda like the thing i sent where the chain catch a glimpse of the triforce on their hand?

-🍄

Imma have to dig deep to remember all of this mushroom. But let's see what I can do. :D

Masterlist

Content under the cut!

You weren't entirely what to expect but the uncles and grandpa's that followed you around today where a little more quiet than usual. More tense. Which is strange because that's never happened before.

They were always talking. If not one, then another.

But they all seemed to be waiting on baited breath for something to happen.

You tried to ignore the feeling that they were intensely watching everything you did. You wanted to go back to bed and forget the feeling of uneasy but you needed more eggs. And you need more butter.

Deciding that it's better to get it over with, you hike up your big kid pants and go to the market to go get the groceries.

"...Do you remember who they met first?"

"Not a clue. Stop talking."

"Please talk to me." You whisper to the voices beside your ear. "Where did you all go?"

"We're here." The oldest of them speaks calmly, a whisp of a touch over your head. "But today is important. We can't change what's about to happen."

"Will it hurt?" You ask to the wind.

Another whisp of a breath over your cheek. "No. We will protect you as we always have."

"Ok, Grandpa. I'm trusting you." You gulp and continue to walk. With the feeling of the heroes behind you, you take a deep breath and continue on with what you head planned to do.

"Over here!!" A voice calls out.

It almost gives you whiplash. You know that voice.

But it wasn't distorted or faint. You heard it.

A group of boys crosses in front of you. They were all of various ages but recognized a few of them.

"Captain." You say without thinking. He was always wearing that ridiculous scarf.

The young man in question stops and turns to you with such startling speed that you gasp and take a step back. He's so... young.

"Great work, Captain Obvious. You scared them."

"That's not how I remember it."

"Shut up all of you."

You somehow find it in yourself to wave.

He smiles and waves back, getting down on his knee to meet your eyes better. "Hello there. What's your name?"

You tell him your name, staring at him non-to-subtly.

"Where are your parents?" He asks you, catching the attention of the other boys in the group.

You gasp, seeing the bigger guy. He has a scar and paint on his face. You know him too. He's less grumpy. "Grandpa?"

The younger Captain raises and eyebrow and turns to look at those whos attention you've caught.

Oh... You think you can see it now. These are your uncles and grandpas. But they're... here... and Alive? And young. So young. One of them can't be that much older than you but you know him too. He was a pirate when he was a boy. He told you that.

"Relax." The wolf man whispers to your ear. Fur brushes past your other cheek. "We've always protected you. Always have, Always will."

A golden glow shines on your hand.

With a gasp you try to try to hide the calling card for trouble.

Their eyes narrow at once. Of course, they'd recognize it.

Feeling awkward from all their stares, you waves again- with your other not glowing hand. "...I was shopping for lunch. You can come to my house. We can all eat?"

"Oh poor thing. I'm so sorry we scared you so much."

"They're tough. We made sure of it."

"Don't worry Little Buddy. You're doing great."

"We'll be honored." The young captain smiles and it's warm. You smile back. He was always charming but it's different this time.

You don't know how to explain it to them. To tell them just how much they all mean to you... But you don't have to.

They already know.

"We're still here. Right beside you. Every step of the way."

#linkeduniverse #linked universe #linked universe x reader #lu x reader #ghost! chain

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tourturestarradio · 7 days

Text

𝐈𝐍 𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐇

"𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐩𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐡. 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐜𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐣𝐚𝐰𝐬, 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚"

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

Pairing: Choso x Vampire reader

Prompt: You're curse just wanting to roam free but after certain events lead you to meet your new blood bag you fall face first into a growing obsession for his blood.

Warnings:Smut, fem bodied reader, kinda mean reader, hand job, riding, blow job (male receiving), doggy style, not proof read, manipulation, blood sucking (obviously.) switch! choso, Switch reader, semi public sex (only a little), hair pulling

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆☆ ★ ✮

You stared at the male in front of you "you'd be of great help Y/n." blinking you sighed "no thanks." turning and walking away you felt energy zoom past you tilting your head to the side just in time as a sharp object passed you.

You groan in annoyance "I don't have a choice do I?" looking back you stared at the man dubbed as Geto, he freaked you out "I suppose you don't" standing still for a moment you blinked "okay. i'll join you."

After joining the creep with the scar on his forehead's little gang you were paired with a half curse named "Choso?" you looked at him.

He didn't talk much but not because he didn't like you, he just wasn't that sociable. Or maybe he just didn't like you. Either he didn't speak with you much.

Up until you asked what he could do, he explained his technique but in all honesty you didn't pay any form of attention to what he was saying as you were staring at his face. He was so cute. But he was also really hot when he was fighting.

Licking your lips you spoke "sooo, you can control blood can you?" he nodded "can I see?" leaning closer to him, he agreed showing off his piercing blood technique. Then the sweet smell hit your nose "so that's your blood? No one else's?" he shook his head again "can I taste it?" he snapped his head over "...what" nothing but a look of confusion covered his face.

You scooted closer your shoulders now touching "please your blood smells so good! just a little taste?" you asked, it then clicked for Choso, "you're a vampire aren't you?" he asked, as if to remind himself, you slumped "how did you forget so easily" Choso looked you up and down "do you need any blood right now?" you nodded your head rapidly.

Remembering a conversation you had with him you thought of an idea just a quick white lie.

"Ya'know...I have family too." Choso seemed to perk up at the mention of family "really?" you nodded "yes two little siblings, and they mean so much to me. and I'm the only one who can take care of them and I need blood to survive because without me, my little siblings could be out on the streets...or worse..." you mumbled hoping he would fall for your dumb story.

Choso frowned "I understand wanting to do anything to keep your siblings safe." you nodded 'fuckin idiot.' you thought to yourself "i'll let you have some." you smiled "alright come on." getting up you grabbed his arm dragging him away.

He let you pull him away into a different room shutting the door you had to keep a smile from growing on your face. tilting his chin up you pulled his scarf down staring at his neck you could smell his blood right below his skin. Licking a spot on his neck you felt him shiver. Biting down on his neck a sweet taste flooded your mouth, one like which you've never tasted before.

Your heart started pumping faster as you gripped onto his shoulder biting down harder "ah...!" Choso groaned at how hard you were biting him in the mist of an oddly euphoric feeling he remembered "wait-!" shoving you off he held the spot on his neck "my blood it's poiso-" "delicious! ah I've never tasted such good blood in my life!" you didn't seem to be affected by his blood, in a split second you latched onto his neck again.

Choso could feel your tongue glide over where you had bitten at, that same strange feeling washing over him again. His hand slid into your hair gripping onto it, after a few seconds he could feel himself get a little woozy.

Pulling your head away you licked your lips "Choso! I wasn't finished!" he caught his breath "I'm sorry I just felt a little tired" he huffed, You roll your eyes "right. well thanks Choso baby you're a big help." you were about to walk away but Choso grabbed your arm "wait....I feel weird." you tilted your head "hm? oh my saliva has some type of chemical thingy that'll nullify the bite, make you feel a little better." you explained.

"Hm. Alright but I feel all hot. Is that normal?" he asked you looked down seeing he was hard. Cute just from sucking on his neck a bit.

You chuckled "I can help with that, but is it okay if I do?" he nodded his head "ah, ah say it."

"Yes, please."

A smile grew on your face "good boy." pushing him up against a wall, getting on your knees you tugged the waistband down "wow." you stated, staring at his cock grabbing hold of it you looked up at him again "is it okay if I...?" he nodded his head rapidly that growing need getting worse.

"Speak."

"Y-Yes."

Licking his tip you looked up at him seeing him squeezing his eyes shut his face growing red "aw I barely even touched you." you chuckled, taking his tip into your mouth you swirled your tongue around his tip feeling him shudder under you.

Pulling your head up spitting on his cock your hand going to work as you pump is cock whimpers leaving his mouth. He leaked pre-cum as he covered his mouth with the back of his hand "can you...can you use your mouth...fuck...again? please." he asked, a smile played on your face "as you wish" wrapping your lips around his cock again you pushed your head further down.

"Fuck...ah, ah~" as the tip of his cock touched the back of your throat Choso grabbed your hair tightly, feeling an odd knot built up "I feel...hah, weird..."

You giggled sending a vibration up his body 'coming so quickly?' you bobbed your head back and forth faster "fuck...fuck, fuck..!" you nearly gagged as he came into your mouth pulling your head away you licked your lips "you're so cute Choso" you say lightly slapping his cheek "wait...wait can you do that again?" he asked carefully sliding you hand to his cock.

"Oh?" you roll your wrist back and forth "you like that baby?" you hum in his ear he nodded a low moan escaping his mouth "yeah..." he groaned tossing his head back.

"Don't be too loud now baby. Don't want the others to hear what a needy slut you're being." you hummed, pumping his cock faster he gripped onto your arm "shit..." he groaned again.

With another curse he came again letting out little whimpers as he tried to catch his breath, beads of sweat rolling down his head. Letting go of his dripping cock you licked your hand clean "might have to do this more often." You muttered, leaving him there in shambles trying to recollect himself.

As the days passed you couldn't get the taste of his blood out of your mouth. Trying your damned hardest to find something similar to it, but no one's was similar.

Once again you asked him for some blood.

A few days after that you went back again after that.

Then the next day.

A repeating cycle but you weren't the only one getting something out of this Choso would ask for sex after just because he always felt so needy after. Sometimes you'd say yes sometimes you said no. Either way he was understanding.

It was late at night and you were hungry. But not for blood, you wanted Choso. No you needed him. Badly.

By some odd coincidence Choso was also craving you as well, because you heard a knock at your apartment door. Opening the door you saw Choso standing there.

Almost instantly you both were latched onto each other, Choso kissed you his hand holding your hips "I need you...I need you so bad" he muttered between kisses, "me too" pulling your shirt over your head he pushed you back onto your bed kissing down your torso.

He looked at you through his lashes "can I?" you nodded your head "ah, ah, say it" you smirked hearing him turn the tables on you.

"Yes you can"

Sliding your clothes off your body Choso looked over your body "like the view?" you teased, turning around on your stomach you propped your ass up looking back at him. Pulling his clothes off Choso kept his eyes trained on you, putting all his bite marks, and hickeys that littered his body from previous meet ups.

You were already soaking wet waiting for him. Choso pumped his cock a bit before lining his cock up with your entrance. Slowly pushing into you, he hissed "mm...tight, relax Y/n." he groaned slowly moving in and out of you as you moaned his name.

His thrust grew rougher as you gripped the sheets, he held your waist tightly "fuck...you feel so good." he groaned, tossing his head back. You cursed under your breath "shit! just like that baby. ngh, fuck" your breathing grew unsteady as he thrust in and out of you.

His hips stuttered he could feel himself coming close to his high "fuck...Y/n...m'close hah" you squeezed around him "ngh, not y-yet." you shook your head "..what?" he was confused but you shook your head again "n-not yet!" you dropped your head moaning his name again.

Reaching back you grabbed his hand "pull...out" slowly Choso pulled out "what's wrong?" he huffed out of breath.

"Lay back." he did as he was told laying on his back, you crawled on top of him, hovering over his throbbing cock. Leaning down you kissed him again sliding yourself down onto him.

Leaning up again, you rolled your hips forward "I like looking at your face when you cum" you smiled your fangs showing as you continued to ride the black haired male.

One hand held your waist while the other groped your chest.

"Mm I-I could say the s-same...ngh" squeezing his eyes shut he bit at his lip swallowing thickly as the urge to cum became strong again. You also felt the same urge "fuck. m'close too" your moans grew louder "let's....let's cum together" Choso had rolled his hips upwards "mm, make me feel so good...ahh, hah." your eyes rolled back as you and Choso came together.

Your body shuddered as you rode out your high, you laid down on Choso.

He opened his mouth to speak but you were asleep before he could say anything, a small smile displayed on his face.

"I'll let you sleep" pressing a kiss against your forehead he held you close to his chest closing his eyes.

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆☆ ★ ✮

A/n: I love Chosoooooooooooo

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simp-ly-writes · 8 months

Text

Harvey's Proposal

Pairing: SDV Harvey x Reader

Summary: The details, location, and everything else to do with the lead up to and actual proposal of Harvey to the Reader.

Warnings: swearing, slight angst?- just some miscommunication that leads to a HEA.

A/N: Harvey is legit my comfort writing character whenever I get frustrated with another plot.

Masterlist | Taglist | edited.

You had noticed your doctor acting strange recently, he made less eye-contact than usual, became generally less communicative with you and had been leaving the house during odd times for "scheduled appointments." Yet when you contacted Maru for who he was meeting with that afternoon she said that the tables were clear for the day.

The furthest devils of doubt from the back of your mind began digging their way front and forward to your thoughts as panic soon took over every interaction you counted with Harvey in recent memory. You 100% thought he was preparing himself to break up with you as you were mentally preparing yourself for the heartbreak

One day, when Harvey comes back from the clinic without a speck of usual tiredness gracing his features has your heart stopping in the kitchen as you turn off the sink, drying your hands to face him. You watch as he stands there still- coat and scarf still off as your ears begin to ring. You were not ready for the announcement, not now- not ever.

Sadness began to creep onto your features, a few tears in your eye as you shook your head- not even listening to what he had to say. You watch through blurred vision as he races his way across the tiles- boots slipping from the recently moped floors. You feel as he pulls you into his warmth- long arms wrapping around your frame in a gentle yet firm grip.

You shook your head still as he squeezed you that bit tighter, he presses kisses onto the top of your head as you drop your body weight onto him- your knees giving up in your overwhelming sadness. Your hands shake as you try and pull away as you feel Harvey let you go.

The doctor stands there still- afraid of what you had yet to tell him, afraid of what caused you to have such a reaction. "A-are you alright my love?" Harvey asks, a few tears in his own eyes as he watches you suffer through what he has yet to understand- he wants to help you through whatever it is you are facing.

You cringe as you sniffle loudly and hiccup into a sentence, wiping your face against your sweater as you turn away to face the sink once more- not baring to look at him anymore. "Why did you not tell me earlier, Harvey?" you asked with grief.

Harvey stares at your back with split-second shock of trying to organizing the information of the situation- just like a medical report. "If I had known that you hadn't been feeling well recently, and- and not wanting to go on a walk with me this afternoon. I would never pressure you into going- darling. That I promise you, I'm so sorry if it came out that way, I'm so sorry that all this stress on my part is coming into our relationship-"

You turn around quickly as Harvey takes a step closer, you watch as his hand rises gently before your own and falls just as quickly to his side. "We were in a relationship Harvey!- we were meant to work things out! Go through life together without need to glance forwards or back, all I ever would need is to look to my side and see you there. That is life- what I thought to be and what I dreamed of. I CAN HELP with the stresses Harvey, I can help with the shit, with the fucked, with the world-ending beliefs. And is is not just that I can- its that I would- I would have without a second thought if you were to just have told me what was going on inside."

You take a deep breath of air in, trying to calm down your breathing as you grab a glass of water from the tap. You watch out of the corner of your eye as Harvey stands there still, tears like waterfalls down his cheeks- staining his dress-shirt and making it bleed all the way down to his heart.

He takes of his glasses, wiping his eyes with the backs of his hands before dropping to his knees. You drop your glass in a panic, racing to the floor as well as his head falls into your lap- you feel his ragged breaths as you rub his back. He sobs endlessly- gripping onto your pant leg- afraid to let you go.

Subconsciously you hand makes its way towards his tangled hair, combing your fingers gently through the knots as sigh out, leaning over to press a kiss to the top of his head. Once pulling away, he raises his head, resting his forehead against your own with closed eyes as he whispers out into the near silent kitchen.

"I am such an idiot," you feel his soft cries turning into laughs as you tense once more, "why would you say such a thing about yourself?" you ask in an equally broken tone.

"When thinking back- my recent actions or rather lack there of have been nothing less than... well shit. I'm sorry for all the secrets, some lies and my lack of presence. In my world- I was beyond worrying of slipping something up about my actions but it appears I have done that nonetheless."

Harvey takes a deep breath, eyes opening to capture your own as he fixes his glasses and pushes a hand through his hair- an action that signals he is outputting stress. "What I mean to say is that I love you so greatly- my dear. More than I can even put to words, to think, to know and even categorize what something like what we share can feel- I, I am always at a loss when it comes to you. Lost in the time we share together, lost in your smiles, your laughter, the presence you grace me with. I am the luckiest man alive and perhaps the most undeserving as of late. I love you- and it is you that defines what the word love is and it is only you that places these feelings and definitions into actions that I can only do my best to express."

Harvey shifts up slightly, proping himself up on one knee as you gasp, world spinning yet again as you experience a whiplash of emotions. You cry harder and crane your head back into joyous laughter as he does the same before calling you to face him once more.

"And besides the poor timing, the lack of romanticism, composure on my end and setting of this all. I can only hope that when I present you with this ring, you will help me to greater define what our love can look like, what actions we choose to take together, and make me able to look past, look forward, and to only see you in it all. Will you marry me?" Harvey asks, the ring shining underneath the warm artificial light of the flicker bulb that flutters just like your own heart.

You cry out a yes, you both falling against the tiles as you stare up at the ceiling and in one another arms. With the ring placed on your finger, you hold it up into the light as it refracts all around you- looking towards Harvey you connect smiles and relax to the word that is future.

╰┈➤ A/N: currently crying over this, brb. (hope you enjoyed reading!).

↳ Taglist: @lovelybee666

#stardew valley harvey #sdv harvey #sdv harvey x farmer #sdv harvey x reader #harvey stardew valley #stardew harvey #stardew valley #stardew valley fanfic #harvey x reader #harvey x farmer #fanfic #fanfiction #sdv fanfic #sdv #sdv fanfiction #sdv farmer #stardew valley fanfiction #simp-ly-writes #simp-ly

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mukumukunomi · 11 months

Text

Not Alone. Never Alone. (part 1)

Luffy x Fem!Reader

cw: fluff, no smut, first love, implied semi-relationship, no manga spoilers, takes place just after East Blue's arc in live action, idiots in love

wc: 1,663

a/n: This is part one of a a short and sweet two parter. I'll be uploading it soon hopefully! Still thinking of more cute one-shots I can write as well. Part two will be linked below

Part Two (Luffy)

❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦

You tell him that getting involved would result in disaster.

But Luffy is a magnet for disaster. He’s chaos incarnate. Brutally honest to a flaw with a kindness that shatters ideals and shakes the foundation of the world. It’s as rare as it is maddening.

“I'm serious. It’s better if I go alone tonight instead of tomorrow.”

The words bite through the silence. It actually forces Luffy away from shoveling the food in his mouth as he eyes you up and down.

“Where are we going?”

You sigh. He’s not listening to you. Not really. The words are going in but not processing. Luffy always does it when he hears something he doesn’t like. He simply states what he wants instead like the universe will bend itself to his will.

Maybe it does.

“Not ‘we’. I am going to go to the island. Me. Not you.”

Luffy frowns. You know he doesn’t doubt your strength nor your character. But it’s the subtle narrowing of his eyes and the way he slowly chews his food that gives his emotions away. He’s annoyed, you think.

“I don’t want ya’ to go alone.”

You sigh dramatically. He’s like a petulant child. His reasoning confounds you. “I’ll be careful.”

He breaks gaze with you to take another huge bite of meat. It’s impressive how he manages to scarf it down in the span of two minutes before he’s once again berating you. “But I can be stealthy!”

You wipe a crumb from his cheek. His face is twisted, eyes avoiding you. He whistles a broken tune mainly because he’s terrible at whistling. Sweat drips down his face. All the tells convincing you that your captain would be terrible poker player. “Leave the lying to Usopp. It’s not your forte. And leave the stealthiness to me. It’s my forte.”

His concern isn’t unwarranted. You're sneaking into the lair of people who once held you as a short-time captive long ago. They’re not as fearsome as some of the pirates you and the crew have encountered, but nevertheless have connections to people you’d rather avoid.

You’re wanted in more waters than the prospective King of the Pirates beside you. The ties of your family and the status they have in this world make it so you’re looking over your shoulder at all times. You’ve never known freedom until the strange being named Monkey D. Luffy stumbled into your life.

But you know the layout of this particular place, and it has something the crew requires. Without it they can’t continue their journey forward. And you’d be damned if you were the one holding them back.

“It’ll be quick. In and out. They’ll never even know! I spent a lot of time there as a prisoner so-.”

Luffy slams the meat bone onto the plate in front of him. He calls Sanji for more. Sanji’s disgruntled reply echoes from the kitchen to your place on the deck. You almost think the thing is settled until Luffy’s blazing eyes meet yours again.

The words are harsh. “I’m going.”

“Luffy, we don’t need to waste time on something I can handle myse-”

“That’s an order from the captain.”

His voice holds no cheerfulness. He’s never used that tone with you before. It’s the tone of finality. It means that Luffy has heard you out and he’s overruling you. You’ve seen him use it on people. You’ve never had it used on you before. The abruptness of it makes you stand.

Hurt flares in your chest. Did he not trust you? Did he actually think you were weak? The logical part of your brain screams ‘no!’ but it’s buried in the torrent of emotions. Here was a chance to prove just how useful you could be. Prove you belonged on this crew. Why did he have to be so difficult?

Luffy’s attention diverts again. He settles back into his mantra of consuming whatever is in front of him as Sanji places another plate of meat down. You make eye contact with the cook, who simply shrugs at the mood the captain is in. You huff in anger and decide being anywhere else is better than talking to the brick wall with a straw hat.

Habit finds you in the main meeting area of the Going Merry. Besides the currently absent presence of Sanji in the small kitchen, the crew’s swordsman is dozing lazily in the corner of the common space. You can’t tell if he’s supposed to be sharpening his sword or is sneaking the booze supply. It surprises you to see him in cohabitation with Sanji in the same room at all.

You plop next to Zoro. You draw your knees up to your chest and rest your elbows on your knees. You let out a long, dragged out keening noise of frustration.

“He shut you down, huh?”

Without looking, you smack his shoulder. Zoro simply scoffs as he tries to get more comfortable against the wall. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

You eye his form. “You said he’d be stubborn. Nami suggested I wait until he was eating to try to convince him.”

Zoro shifts the Wado Ichimonji on his hip. “Yeah, Nami’s right about that. He’s pretty susceptible when food’s on offer. You can convince him to do almost anything.”

The groan that is your reply is muffled by your arms. "Apparently not everything."

He taps the hilt of the blade on your head. “Problem wasn’t the timing. It was the subject.”

Your brows scrunch together. “The subject?”

“You.”

“You’re saying that I’m the problem.”

Zoro smirks. “Yup.”

You shove his shoulder at his shit-eating grin. Luffy and you care for each other. More than friendship. Not quite romantic. You're not sure if he even knows how to be. So you both settle for a comfortable in-between where labels are irrelevant. You’re free to explore this feeling between you two and see where it leads. Despite his naivete, there’s a quiet confidence in Luffy’s chaste kisses. In lingering touches and odd looks that make your heart rate elevate. There are moments where you wonder if he truly knows the effect he has on you.

You’re in love with him. So in love with him. You don’t know how deep his love for you runs. It terrifies you.

Your indignant snort reverberates the space. “I don’t understand.”

The moss-head rolls his eyes at you and takes a swig of a bottle. “If you don’t understand then you may be an even bigger idiot than he is.”

You decide that the room is more stuffy as you feel hot embarrassment at his remark. “At least I’m an idiot that can find my way around.”

The swordsman makes an interesting coughing noise as you get up and exit back onto the deck.

Going Merry is docked at the north end of the inlet. It shrouds your little caravel just enough that you can still see the top of the fortress that lies beyond the hill to the south. You can see that the clouds are beginning to move eastward as a warm wind blows from the storm front to the west. Luffy is no longer where he was, but you can hear the echoes of his voice from below. Sanji passes you to return to the kitchen to clean up and lock the fridge, which will hopefully keep a certain pest (captain) away. You begin descending the stairs to the main deck as Sanji and Zoro’s voices start to hurl insults at each other from behind.

The only one who remains on deck is Nami, who’s staring at a map of the island on the flat end of an upright barrel. An oil lamp burns beside her to give light. You rest your chin on her shoulder and hum at the layout. “That’s wrong.”

You point to the secret entrance Nami’s drawn. “It’s just to the west of the hill at the base. And that forest stretches all the way to the coastline too.”

Nami frowns and marks the correction with a pen. “Damn, I’ll have to redraw again at some point.”

“You don’t have to do that.” You say, voice turning bitter. “It’s not worth that kind of effort.”

You hope to never see this island again after this.

Nami simply raises an eyebrow. “You sound upset. What did Luffy say?”

You tend to forget how perceptive the navigator is. “He ordered me to let him come. Ordered! Like a captain! Can you believe that?”

“Ah. Well he is the captain.” Nami clicks her tongue, “Serious tone and all too?”

You nod. “Any chance of still changing his mind?”

The tangerine colored strands of her hair flow gently in the breeze as Nami laughs. “Absolutely not. But maybe it’s for the best. We both know how stubborn he can be.”

She snuffs the oil lamp out and folds the map to put in her pocket. Without the warm light, the ship is suddenly shrouded in an eerie darkness. The only light left is from the pale glow of the moon. Nami shifts her attention back to you. “Heading to bed. You?”

Usopp’s snores have already begun to resound across the ship. There are heavy footsteps below you from the men’s quarters. There’s a brief moment of loud talking and heavy things being thrown before peace once again returns to the Going Merry.

You gaze up at the stars. “In a minute. I forgot something in the kitchen.”

The navigator yawns as she walks away. You watch her disappear below. There’s a heavy feeling in your gut as you move towards the ship’s railing. You peer over it, gazing at the strip of land alongside your ship.

Luffy could be stubborn. But so could you.

The warm air turns cold as you inhale shakily. You do a double take of the surroundings again to make sure you’re alone.

“Sorry, Luffy.”

You throw the rope ladder down and descend as quietly as possible.

#monkey d. luffy x reader #one piece #opla #monkey d. luffy #muku'sfics #luffy x reader #luffy x y/n #one piece x reader

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hemmingsleclerc · 2 months

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Anything for my girl┃Regulus Black

summary: regulus goes to support his girlfriend at her quidditch match using the colors of her house, red and gold

warnings: just fluff, I love reggie being yn's number one fan, grumpy!bf, sunshine!gf kinda- hope u like ittt

The stands of the Quidditch pitch were filled with excitement as students filed in to watch the long-awaited Gryffindor vs. Ravenclaw match. Among the sea of red and gold, a single figure stood out, dressed in the colors of Gryffindor and with his face painted, a tall, pale boy with hair as black as night was the focus of attention of all the students of the red house.

Regulus Black, the infamous ''prince'' of Slytherin, had taken his seat among the Gryffindors. He was wearing a red scarf, his face painted with gold on his cheeks and a grim expression. Next to him, Lily and Remus exchanged bewildered glances, trying to understand the strange sight before them.

"Is that—?" Lily began, eyes wide.

"Sirius' younger brother, regulus," Remus confirmed, shaking his head in disbelief. "What's he doing here?"

Regulus, noticing their stares, merely grunted. "I'm here to support Y/N. Got a problem with that?"

Lily and Remus exchanged another glance, this time with amusement. "No problem at all," Lily said, her lips twitching into a smile. "Just… surprised."

Regulus's attitude softened slightly at the mention of Y/n. She was the only one who could melt his icy exterior and very few knew it .He scanned the pitch, his eyes locking onto Y/n Potter, Gryffindor's star Chaser and his beloved girlfriend. She was a whirlwind of energy and warmth, the complete opposite of his brooding self, and he adored her for it.

The match began with a flurry of brooms and flying bludgers. Gryffindor and Ravenclaw were neck and neck, the crowd's cheers rising in waves (mostly in Gryffindor's favor). Regulus's eyes never left Y/n, following her every move with intense focus.

"Come on, Y/n!" he suddenly shouted, standing up and swinging his arms around, surprising Lily and Remus. His usual serene and calm demeanor had completely disappeared, replaced by unbridled shouts of support, not caring about the curious glances towards him.

Lily and Remus couldn't help but join in, shouting encouragement for James as well.

As the game reached its most intense point, Y/n darted through the opposing team's defense, eyes trained on the goalposts. The crowd held their breath as she lined up the perfect shot and…success! The Quaffle burst through the hoops, sealing Gryffindor's victory.

The stands erupted in a frenzy of shouts and applause. Regulus, unable to contain his excitement, jumped up from his seat and screamed at the top of his lungs as he applauded. "Yes! That's my girl!" The sheer passion in his voice made heads turn and a wave of surprise ran through the crowd.

Y/n, still on her broom, examined the stands and saw Regulus and could not contain her excitement when she saw him dressed in the colors of her house, he looked really cute, with his tousled curls, red nose that matched the paint on his cheeks and his scarf. Her eyes lit up and without a moment's hesitation, rushed towards him. The crowd gasped as she flew straight towards the Gryffindor section and landed gracefully in front of him.

"Reggie!" she exclaimed, breathless with a huge smile and the adrenaline at its peak.

Before he could respond, she pulled him into a fierce kiss. The entire stadium seemed to fall silent for a heartbeat before exploding into a mix of cheers, gasps, and laughter.

Dumbledore and McGonagall exchanged amused glances from their positions in the staff box before he extended his hand towards her to claim his reward as Minnie handed him 25 galleons with a smile.

Lily and Remus stood there, smiling widely. "Well, that was unexpected," Remus said, laughing with an awkward smile.

As Y/n and Regulus broke apart, she rested her forehead against his, still smiling. "Thank you for coming," she whispered.

Regulus, his usual grumpiness melting away in her presence, replied softly, "I wouldn't miss it for the world."

The two shared an intimate and loving moment, oblivious to the surprised faces that surrounded them. For once, Regulus didn't care about the glances or whispers because for him only her mattered.

meanwhile:

James, who had been busy being congratulated by his team, saw the scene and shouted in shock: "WHAT?"

From the entrance to the stands, Sirius , arriving late and trying to find his friends, heard the commotion. He turned to see Y/n kissing his brother and froze, eyes wide. "WHAT THE FUCK?"

James looked at Y/n and Regulus with a mix of grudging disbelief. "Unbelievable," he murmured, shaking his head. "That's my sister! Since when have they been a couple? Why didn't she tell me? Did you know anything about this Pads??"

Sirius finally found Lily and Remus walking towards them, still looking flabbergasted. "Since when little potter and MY own brother have a thing?! Seriously, what the hell did I just witness?"

Lily patted his shoulder, barely containing her laughter. "Love happened, Sirius. Love happened, some day you'll know about that."

And instinctively he looked at Remus who was talking a few steps away from him with Y/n and his brother. ''Yes, maybe I know a little about that''

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twstfanblog · 2 months

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Flings put this out to the masses and goes to sleep. You guys enjoy this raw of the Manhwa AU!!!

The manor was so silent at night. A rare occurrence since her parents loved to throw parties.

She wonders if they threw any parties after she-

A little girl walked through elegantly decorated halls, grand paintings of scenery and people hung between dimly lit sconces. She wore a flowing light purple nightgown, ruffles on every edge of the fabric with a delicate teal ribbon tied to a bow at her collar. Long black hair with a stark white underside pulled into twin low braids.

Yuu Crowleyl was eight years old, again, for some reason. But she couldn't really complain. It was better than bleeding out on the hot summer stairs…it was cold now that she thought about it. Looking out the grand windows of the manor, she realized they were frosted over. Bare trees seen through the ice in the chilly late hours of the night. She should have put her slippers on; papa had made her a knitted pair that looked like his snow boots she loved…

Soon, she came to the double doors, or what she remembered, of her parents' room. Yuu reached a small hand to one of the levers and quietly shuffled her way inside.

She doesn't remember entering her parents' room much. She scarcely remembers them even entering her room, but maybe that could change. Yuu really liked the look of her parents' iridescent curtains covering the door to their large balcony. Walking closer to the lavishly dressed bed, she stared down at the rare uncovered face of her father.

Dire Crowley, Grand Duke of the Noctorn Empire, arguably one of the most powerful men in the land. And if you asked her papa, without a doubt, one of the most frustrating. He snored, mouth hanging open with his star and moon printed pajamas messy from his tossing and turning; a loveable embarrassment…

A gasp calls her eyes to look at the other side of the bed at her papa. Divus Crowley nee Crewel, Grand Duchess of the Noctorn Empire. He had his hair wrapped up in a fine patterned scarf and a hand clutching his silk robe closed, his eyes wide as he stared at her before huffing.

Divus leaned into his hand, taking care to not smudge the cream spread under his eyes as his lips turned into a scowl, “What are you doing up, puppy? I know it's far past your bedtime…” To any other child Divus looked as though he were annoyed to be dealing with his child, and he was. But years of knowing, loving, and being loved by her papa made her aware he was more so annoyed that his method of putting her to bed seemingly needed to be worked on again, not that she was bothering them.

“...” Yuu looked at her papa, blinking before taking in a shaky breath and whispering out her question, “Can I sleep with you?”

“...Oh, puppy…” Divus groans, an elegantly sharp nail tapping against his creased brow. His darling daughter was eight now. Close to the double digits and being expected to start behaving in a mature manner, yet still so painfully young. He had somehow managed to train his clingy toddler to sleep in her own bed years ago, a feat that was hard enough as is. But how was he to deny his puppy his comforting embrace when she was still so cute!?

Clasping his hands over his mouth, he breathed in. Raising an eyebrow at his strangely still daughter he asked, “Why do you want to sleep in our bed, puppy? You've never asked for such a thing before…”

Yuu blinks, taking in another quivering breath. It all seemed to be hitting her at once. The years of trying to befriend the men she grew to love, the years of neglect and disappointment. The fall, the crack, the pain, the blood.

“...I died…”

“...” Divus sat up straighter in his bed, eyes gaining a new worried flicker as he stared at his daughter, “What?”

“I-I…I…” she hiccuped, the tears finally welling in her eyes as her hands clenched onto her nightgown. Words lost as all she could do was take in shuddering gasps and let out pitiful chokes.

Divus slapped Dire's chest, each hit coming quicker and harder the more distressed Yuu's cries became, “Dire. Dire! Wake UP you crow BASTARD!”

Dire blinked his eyes open, bewildered why he was being forcibly woken in the middle of the night. His remark quickly lost on his tongue as he noticed his crying child right beside him, “Oh, my darling! What's made you cry like this?”

“Stop asking stupid questions and pull her into bed!” Divus slapped Dire’s shoulder, nearly punching the other man in an effort to bully him into doing as he said.

“Ow! I am!”

Yuu started to fully sob as Dire gently pulled her into the bed, placing her between the two fretting adults. She could feel their arms wrap around her, trying to soothe her tears with soft words and gentle pets. Her father had rung his service bell like a mad man, no doubt sending the servants into a panic and scrambling to heed his call. Soon a flustered servant ran into the room, Dire ordering them to bring a midnight snack selection, anything to ease his child's crying. Yuu didn't get the chance to eat any of the snacks, having slipped into a pitiful slumber locked in her papa's arms.

She had somehow traveled back in time over a decade, long before her death and betrayals. And as she laid curled between her loving parents, she made the decision that her old life wasn't worth repeating a second time. She knew her heart couldn't take it again…

#twisted wonderland #twst #disney twst #twst wonderland #yuu oc #papa crewel #divus crewel #dire crowley #manhwa au

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