#(i just have a soft hand and communicate mostly through my seat which means that it looks like i'm not doing much when in reality i'm

[d-dixonimagines]

PROMPT: "Thought you'd be taller.."

I feel like I want to do this one again with a different approach, but I don't know. I envisioned it being something light-hearted and fun, so please excuse my attempt at being funny...! @darylsdelts A/N: It's not edited so there's probably typos

There was a weird buzz of energy going around the camp that you couldn't quite place. The way people whispered to one another excitedly like gossiping teenagers. Eventually you got wind that Daryl Dixon was supposed to be arriving. It was overheard on the radio when your group leader was communicating with Aaron, arranging some kind of supply drop. They had been talking for months and were finally closing on a deal to join forces and create connections.

Sure, you had heard Daryl's name before, but it was strange to see people act like it was some celebrity coming through their town, a behavior you thought was long dead when everything fell. He had been the talk for days, apparently. People telling stories about all the things they've heard he's done, even some you were sure couldn't possibly be true, like blowing up a group with a bazooka? It sounded ridiculous.

He had managed to gain a sort of reputation. He was the lone wolf you didn't mess with. People have said that he mostly kept to himself, some describing him as a grumpy old bear, and good luck if you ever got on his bad side.

You've heard he was mean and intimidating and had a permanent glare, but others say he is kind and had a softness to him. That he had a type of charm that was hard to explain. But it was all the same as rumors go; you didn't know what you were supposed to believe.

He had come to the camp a few times, but somehow you've never seen or met him yourself. It was like he was a myth. A story someone made up, and depending on which version you heard, he was either a scary boogeyman or some kind of hero.

None of that mattered, though. You were determined to find out for yourself who this Daryl guy really was, and if he was worth all of the commotion he seemed to cause.

The sun was just about to set when he and Aaron finally arrived. They were greeted with welcoming smiles and were invited to join you all for dinner. You were appreciative of the large cart of food and supplies they brought, but so far you weren't seeing anything too spectacular. He was quiet, mostly. Handing over crates and stuff, no particular look about him. He didn't look scary, there was no scowl-y expression. So many not a grumpy bear?

As the evening went on and everyone was settled, scattered about around the fire, you sat silently - continuing to watch him. When it was mostly just the two of you remaining, you decided that the silent stalking was getting you nowhere, so you took things to the next level; you approached him..

"Would you like some more?" You offered, extending the kettle of food you had in your hand. He looked up at you for a second before shaking his head, "Nah, I'm good.. Thanks." His voice was gruff, but there was a softness to it, it didn't make sense!

"I'll have some more." Your attention was brought to Larson, a guy from your group, who was sitting close by with his plate stretched out, a friendly smile on his face. Without saying a word, you took a step towards him and practically tossed the kettle in his lap, taking a seat next to Daryl, your back towards Larson.

There was a silence again, aside from the confused mumblings from Larson as he dished himself more food. You tried not to make it so obvious that you were eyeing Daryl, trying to glance at the fire every now and then, but you were failing quite miserably.

"Can I help ya with somethin'?" Daryl finally confronted you. When you didn't respond he continued. "You've been starin' me down since I got here and it's startin' to weird me out..."

You straightened up a bit and put your hands up briefly, an attempt to express you didn't mean anything by it. "I'm sorry. I'm just... trying to figure you out." "Whats'ta figure out, exactly?" he remained calm, but you could tell he had a guard up. Which was understandable.

You have a quick shrug as you tried to gather your thoughts. "The way people talk about you, you're at all what I expected." He gave a sight grunt, like where this was going all clicked. "Should I even ask what you were expectin'?" "Thought you'd be taller.." Your response surprised him a bit, causing him to let out a chuckle. Your shoulders relaxed at his reaction. He definitely wasn't a boogeyman type.

"There were a lotta things you could'a said, but I wasn't expectin' that one," he shook his head a bit and set his dish down by his feet. You could understand where he thought you were going, so many mixed reactions to him, but you were feeling more inclined to believe the positive ones, based on your current encounter with him.

"There was a lot of buzz around here when people learned you were visiting. They talk about you like you're some kind of celebrity. Which, I guess in some sense, you kind of are. With all the stuff you've done, you've made quite a name for yourself."

"Pshh.." he scoffed, "I don't buy into all that. People's opinions don't mean shit." "Even if it's good? People look up to you, from what I gather." He shook his head again. "It's all bullshit. They don't know me or the shit I've done." "We've all done things. Larson here?" you pointed your finger over your shoulder, Daryl's eyes following the direction, "the worst thing he's probably done is kill a rabbit, and that's saying something when it comes to him, and while he's probably not the best example, we all still know he's a good person."

Larson looked up from his plate, his gaze going back and forth between you and Daryl. "It was an accident..." Larson defended himself, a silent look of panic etched on his face. "The rabbit, I didn't see it, it was in the -" "You don't have to explain, Larson, it's OK. No one blames you." You cut him off before looking back at Daryl. "...Why would they blame me..?" "It was a whole thing.. but that's not the point. I'm just saying, the stuff you do makes a difference to people. The good stuff, I mean."

Daryl looked confused for a second, trying to figure out Larson's deal, but brought his attention back to you. "I dunno about any of that. I ain't tryin' to be anythin', I'm just doin' what anybody else would." You nodded, planning on keeping things at that, but there was one thing you couldn't get out of your head and needed answers on.

"I just have one question," you opened. He seemed almost reluctant to agree, but he did with a nod. "Is it true you shot a bazooka at some group? Some people say there was a group of like fifty highwaymen and you just blew them all up." He looked at you for a second like you were insane and let out a sigh. "There weren't fifty of 'em, there was only about eight.." "But you blasted them with a bazooka?" "Yeah?" he responded like he didn't understand what the big deal was. "They were a bunch'a assholes, they had it comin'."

"No, I completely get it," you let out a small laugh. "It's just a crazy thing to think about, you know? A bazooka! Where the hell would you even get one of those?" "Military truck," both Daryl and Larson answered at the same time, causing you both to look at him. "Sorry, I keep forgetting you're there." You almost felt bad. "Anyway, I should get going. It was cool to meet you," you turned back to Daryl and stood up, talking some of the empty dishes. Daryl gave a nod as you walked off.

"... The rabbit incident really was an accident," Larson chimed in after a moment of silence; he was leaning towards Daryl like he was trying to keep it between the two of them. "It was in the -" "Let it go, Larson!" Two other people in the group shouted at the same time. Larson slammed his plate on his lap in frustration as he was interrupted once more and he straightened up. Daryl sat there awkwardly in silence for a moment before getting up himself. He walked passed Larson and gave a quick sympathetic pat on his shoulder. "It's alright, buddy. I believe ya.." Daryl let out an amused scoff as he walked away to find Aaron.

#daryl dixon #the walking dead #d-dixonimagines #daryl dixon imagines #daryl dixon x reader #norman reedus

[buckyarchives]

The Domestic Life of Living with a Runaway Assassin. [chapter two.]

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x soulmate!reader

Summary: you hate many things in life. you hate soulmates. you hate the avengers. you hate guns. you hate loud snorers and complicated relationships.

Bucky Barnes is associated with all of those things, yet you can't find yourself hating him

w.c: 4.6k

Author note: not proud of this chapter, lightly edited and i’m simply to lazy to go over again and again

Masterlist | playlist

“Dude, I understand you’re going through a lot right now but can we tone down the grimacing a little?” 

It's been one month since the field trip to the Smithsonian, it was hard to say exactly when it clicked in Bucky’s head he had a pseudo-permanent place here. Especially with the recent development of the free bedroom since your roommate moved out. His appearances before were minimal, only ever breaking into your apartment late at night when the weather was too shitty and he decided he wanted a warm meal or cereal. Bucky would usually leave before you left for work and left almost no trace of him even being there.

For the most part, you stayed at arm's length. Made it very clear that just because you two were destined to be by the universe, didn’t mean you had to act like it. Bucky looked like a kicked puppy when you explained that to him, but he kept his feelings under wraps. If he even had any. 

You weren’t sure if he trusted you yet, considering his past. But you can assume ever since he finally slept on your couch rather than the hardwood floor next to it – he's started to trust you. And by trust, you mean beginning to stay at your house for more things than just 3 hours of sleep or cornflakes. If bucky wasn’t wanted by both Nazis and Captain America you'd be asking him to pay rent by now.

Bucky also had a horrible staring problem.

“I’m not grimacing,” he mumbled.

“You literally look like the grinch right now.”

His eyebrows furrowed, “who?”

“Oh my god.” you dragged out, rising from your seat and heading towards the kitchen. 6:31 pm glowed green on your stove. “Are you hungry?”

Bucky hums to himself, his metal hand grazing above the soft fur of your cat's head. “I’m always hungry.”

“Why do I even ask? Penne or rigatoni?” you shuffled through your unhealthy amount of pasta stored away. 

“I don’t care.” you heard Bucky’s footsteps trail into the kitchen, you noticed pretty early on that he chose when he wanted his presence to be known. Bucky called you perceptive for figuring that out. you thought it was pretty obvious. 

You already had pasta sauce leftovers from a few nights ago, good enough.

Something else you had noticed over the few weeks, being in Bucky's presence made you feel weirdly at ease. A part of you hope that it wasn’t something destined to be pulled towards each other that the universe made up, you weren’t mentally prepared to admit the universe was right. For all you know, Bucky is a pity case and you're just trying to keep him alive. 

It also didn’t help the fact you had to keep reminding yourself of this all the time.

But silence followed Bucky like it was made for him, he communicated with short (and usually quite rude) sentences or just his various facial expressions. Which were mostly confused and scared. Every once in and while he’d smile, but it was barely there and half the time Bucky would have already bit it back or turned the other way so you wouldn’t notice.

Sometimes you forgot you were harboring a runaway assassin, your wanted soulmate. Like this, faint sounds of pots clinking and the smell of simple Marianna cooking. Bucky sitting a few feet behind you, bouncing his leg and petting Alpine. Speaking of…

“Hey! Alpines not allowed on the table!” You grabbed the scruff of the Snow White cat's fur and tossed him on the floor, he hissed at you the entire way. Bucky watched with judging eyes.

“You're just jealous.” Bucky mumbled under his breath, monotone as ever.

“Pardon?” You were sure if you tried it, the spoon in your hand would break upon hitting his forearm, but it was still held heavy and ready to strike. “What did you say?”

“He likes me more.” 

You blinked once, twice at him. Giving him a moment to take back his words. “Watch your next words.” You grumbled and turned back to your sauce, stirring so it wouldn’t burn.

From behind you, Bucky grabbed the cat by the scruff again and set him in his lap. A smile danced on his face when the cat nuzzled into the metal palm. Until you noticed him out of the corner of your eye, mid-straining the pasta.

“Okay, maybe he does like you more.” You painfully admitted through gritted teeth, “stray to stray, I guess.”

Bucky looks up, confused. 

You sighed, “he used to linger outside the apartment complex, but anytime anyone tried to pet him he’d hiss and attack. I finally womaned up because his fur was getting horribly matted and it was getting cold out. He's domesticated a little, but still pretty angry.”

Bucky listened to you intently, still gently brushing the cat's back. He only purred and leaned in closer to the super soldier. If you were going to be honest — the sight pulled at your heartstrings

After making a plate, Bucky finally put down Alpine and set him gently on the floor, more gentle than your way of doing it. You checked your email as you ate, silence enveloped the room beside the sound of silverware clinking. Your cat still lingered around the table, brushing his tail around your ankle. For a moment you let yourself wonder if Bucky would actually —

“More.” 

Your head shot up. The image before you was utterly laughable. Small amounts of red sauce at the corner of his cheek, ruffled hair from his shower earlier, and both hands grasping around his silverware. And a wiped-clean plate.

“What—“ your eyes furrowed. “You, what the fuck.”

Bucky just bored his stupidly gorgeous blue eyes back at you.

“It’s only been five minutes! I gave you enough to feed two of me?” You shouted. “Are you a fucking vacuum?”

“Please.” Bucky wiped the Mariana from his lip.

You stopped, and an overdramatic smile grew on your face. “That’s the first polite thing you have said to me like. Ever.”

Bucky just rolled his eyes and nudged his plate toward you. 

“Go make your own plate. I obviously have no grasp of how much you can inhale.” You snarled, Bucky grabbed the plate and got up. He towered over you, Bucky made himself look as small as he could most of the time that you’d forget how big he actually is. Your eyes shamefully followed his body as he walked towards the stove. 

“Oh, and actually chew this time, sergeant.”

You began eating again, making a mental note to up the amount you buy at the store next time

-

Bucky’s heavy boots trudged through the house. He had learned soon enough you were a heavy sleeper and no matter how much he tried to avoid the creaky wooden panels, it just wasn't worth it. The familiar bright light on the living room television flashed, the light creeping its way into the hallway. You were sat in the corner of the couch, curled up so tight, like you were trying to make yourself disappear. Bucky made himself known but your head didn’t snap in his direction like usual. 

He coughed, “why are you still up?”

No response, your eyes stayed trained on the television. Bucky craned his next to see another one of your reality shows. If Bucky remembered correctly, this was the one where a group of people try to survive on an island.

A sigh escaped Bucky's lips as he sat down his duffle bag with a thud, “are you okay?” he asks, sitting down on the couch, keeping a good foot and a half distance from you.

“No.” is all you mutter out.

“Do you wanna talk?”

You don't respond again. 

“Well, I’m heading out. Thanks for the bed and food.” Bucky says. Awkwardness poured out between you two, bucky felt out of place right now.

You let out an exhausted sigh, “it's snowing.”

Bucky hummed in response, his eyes glancing toward the window. Pitch black dark beside the New York street lamps giving the world a yellow-orangish glow. Bucky noticed the snowflakes falling gently onto the fire escape railing. “Yeah, I know.”

“Gosh,” you groaned. “I feel guilty knowing you’re out there freezing your ass off and scavenging for food, just out there hiding in general.”

“It's not that big of a d-”

You interject, and your voice sounds exhausted. “Stay. please, Bucky. Just stay.” your gaze leaves the television and meets his, and suddenly Bucky’s stomach feels funny. 

“If I stay too long, I’m scared someone will connect us and I don't want you to be dragged into my mess.” Bucky sighs.

Bucky had already stayed here for a few too many nights, you had offered him the empty room across from your own. It took some convincing from you, but he stayed. Bucky didn’t sleep, didn’t even touch the bed, he had rustled it up to make it look like he slept.

Maybe he was just scared of getting too attached. 

You hum. “I’m sure I’m a lot safer with the world's most feared assassin in my house, rather than out prancing around the city.”

“I don't prance.” Bucky scoffs, and he notices the way your lip quirks up slightly as you turn back toward your show.

A silence falls upon the two of you, Bucky's shoulders feel lighter at this moment, like your presence just takes the burden of the world off him. Bucky’s also scared that might mean you're taking some of it on your shoulders too. 

His eye flicker back to the large television, fully illuminating the living room and casting a shadow over your feature. Mabe Bucky needed to stop his habit of staring at you, when will you notice that he does it because it feels impossible to tear his eyes away from you? That it’s not just some lasting effect from the 70 years of torture. Snap out of it, Barnes. Bucky hears the small voice in his head yell, he looked back at the tv. Survivor is playing again, you only watch this when you’re upset.

“Why do you even watch this show?” Bucky asked.

You snicker silently, Bucky can’t hold back the amused smile on his face. “It's horrible, really.” god, he can hear the smile on your face.

“Tell me.” Bucky breathes out.

“Besides, it is just entertaining–” you say, laughing. “watching these people suffer through all this makes me feel better about myself, like what I’m going through isn't that bad– wow, I’m horrible.”

Honestly, the response took Bucky off guard. He finds it hard to grasp a response. 

“You are an interesting person.” Bucky laughs. Settling on that.

“Good, or bad?”

“Good.” Bucky says firmly. You nod your head. “I mean you are housing a criminal of the state.”

You laugh, a genuine laugh. “As long as you keep me safe. Mi casa es su casa.”

Bucky might have scooted his way closer to your side of the couch, closer to you. “Yeah, I’ll keep you safe.” he smiles to himself, because at least he can do that. His arm falls to the back of the couch and above your head, you'd be disappointed to know Bucky wasn't really paying attention to the show. 

Your eyes began to droop, leaning into Bucky's touch. He was warm. Bucky tensed when your head fell onto his chest, but after it was the easiest thing to melt into you. Like it was second nature, puzzle pieces finding each other. Bucky doesn't remember the last time he was touched like this, a time when being touched wasn't bad and painful. Even if he remembers a time before that, with girls or Steve, Bucky sure doesn't remember it feeling this good. 

Bucky wonders if you could hear his heartbeat too. Feel how fast it beats for you, would you get scared and push him away? Bucky decided he would rather stay quiet than find out. 

“I bet you could survive this show so easily.” you sound delirious, barely awake as you fall heavier into his chest. Bucky hums and you feel it, it's quite nice. 

“Probably, how much is this prize money?” he asks, knowing too well you are too tired to answer that. 

You snort, “thinking about joining? That'll blow your cover, sergeant.”

It was so weird when you called him that. It felt so right and it made Bucky feel normal. He wished you'd call him that more, Bucky always feels a nostalgic and warm feeling swell in his chest that makes him feel normal. Like everything he's faced all those years simply disappeared and he's been in this house with you all alone. Maybe that's how it was meant to be.

“It would be one hell of a reveal though.” he mutters, but you don't respond. 

Bucky’s eyes fall down to your face, your limp against his chest and eyes closed, mouth parted slightly, and breathing softly. It would be impossible to bite back the smile that grew on his face, you look so peaceful. Bucky knows you deserve it. And he knows he’ll stay awake all night to make sure you can keep it.

And he… almost did that. Bucky made it a few more hours of keeping watch on your sleeping form, you moved your way fulling into his lap and Bucky wrapped a heavy blanket over you to shield you from the cold New York weather. Bucky got himself used to the tv remote, very high tech – too high tech.

 Confusing remote yet still no flying cars, what a disappointment the future was. Bucky watched a show called Modern Family for a while, it didn't take long for his eyes to get heavy as well.

And then it was morning, and the sun was showing through your curtains and it warmed his exposed skin. You were gone and a fleeting feeling of panic shot through him. But then the sound of banging and many familiar curse words that belonged to his one and only. 

Bucky blinked the tiredness out of him, running his hand through his outgrown hair, and craning his neck to see into the kitchen. The large blue blanket he had draped over you last night hung from your shoulder, you were hitting and glaring at your coffee pot like it had personally offended you. Which it literally has.

“You stupid fucking machine, I paid 130$ for you, motherfucker. Work, I swear to god I will–”

“Stop yelling at the machine.”

You turned to him with the devil in your eyes. “Says the one who was whisper-yelling at the remote to ‘go back’ last night.”

“You heard that?” Bucky asks shyly. You just hummed and nodded, giving up on banging on the Keurig and plopping down next to him. “No coffee? Are you going to turn into a monster if you don't get caffeine in the next hour?”

With a deadpan face and droopy eyes, “yes.”

Then, like a fucking lightning bolt withdrawing from caffeine. You shot up abruptly and rushed into your room with heavy footsteps, followed by the loud sound of your hangers clicking together. “Grab your cap and glove that you’re so convinced makes you look invisible. We’re going to get coffee.”

Bucky didn’t really feel like arguing with a monster right now, so he lazily stretched his limbs and shook out the lingering sleepiness from his body. Going to his designated corner and grabbing his many layers and hat. 

Bucky still kept his head down like usual, you weren't very good at doing that. Even after Bucky’s constant worrying. He assumed you took his word the night before a little too seriously. Yet, you guided him to the farthest corner of the shop, “what do you want?”

“Coffee.” Bucky stated plainly.

“What kind of coffee?”

Bucky’s eyebrows furrowed, “there are different types of coffee?”

You inhaled an annoyed breath, nodding to yourself. “Nevermind, I got it.” you sighed, trudging off to the counter and greeting the woman with a bright smile. Ordering your usual and getting Bucky a tall, plain black. Decaf because you weren't dealing with a jittery supersoldier. the barista asked for a name, and your and Bucky’s almost left your lips as before you realized who he was. Glancing back over to Bucky, his hair had grown out long and so had his beard. 

You were beyond amused with yourself when you gave him a new name and walked back to your seat.

Bucky had the same aura as a small child. Except with broad shoulders, a permanent grimace and a few knives shoved up his pants. His gloved fingers tapped on the table, eyes hitting every inch of the building. Tap, tap, tap. What made it worse was the excessive bouncing of his knee that vibrated the already old, wobbly wooden table. You glared holes in his head, frowning but he gave you no mind. 

Grasping around a peoples magazine, and simply throwing it at him. “Read that, the tapping and bouncing are getting annoying.” Bucky looked down at it, a little disappointed at first. But soon started flipping through it, the tapping stopped. Thank god.

For a moment, you leaned your head back, closing your eyes and just letting a heavy breath out. That you were somewhere else, anywhere doing anything. Just for a moment. But the sound of people speaking, the loud and arguably annoying city life of cars and horns, the sounds of espresso machines and mugs clinking. No escaping this. Your eyelids flutter open, back to reality, and Bucky is looking at the magazine as if it called his mother a bitch. Eyebrows furrowed and dark, narrowed eyes. 

“What is it?” you scoot over to his side of the booth, lining your thighs with his. Bucky tenses at the touch, you don't notice. In the magazine is a picture of Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanoff, and Clint Barton at a charity event. Next to the pictures were long articles of their bullshit excuses for whatever damage they caused to some city miles away, or even home.

“I don’t recognize him.” Bucky mutters under his breath, he sounds so sad. 

“It's probably all the photoshop.” you say, in an attempt to make him laugh. But as the words left your lips you realize Bucky probably has zero idea what photoshop is, and seals that thought after he shot a confused look up at you. “Doesn’t matter, I promise it will come back to you.”

Bucky looks up at you, an unrecognizable emotion playing out on his face, lips parted slightly as if he was about to speak. Too scared to let anything out he doesn't fully recognize, you're confusing and warm and gentle with him and it makes his brain short circuit. Just your thighs and shoulder touching him makes his body burn, and the feeling of you so close taunts him, is Bucky that touched starved? All he knows his violence at the end of anothers hand, is it so bad to want more –

“L’Oreal! Y/N!” The loud and shrill voice of the barista echoed through the cafe, and a wild amused smile grew on your face as you shot up to get the coffee.

Your warmth left Bucky’s body, cold now.

-

Chop, chop, chop…

Bucky stood hunched over your counter, a small fruit knife with little lemons painted on the blade. Bucky thought it was beyond weird but it worked. Chopping away at strawberries, for you, because he doesn't really understand how to show gratitude towards you any other way. The super soldier wasn't very good with words, and he has no money to pay you for the warm food and roof over his head. Strawberries will due.

Chop, chop, chop

Alpine sat on the counter next to the cutting board, he definitely wasn’t supposed to. But you were in the shower and well, you didn't have to know. Bucky scratched the place between his ears, the metal again the soft, snow-white fur was weird. 

Chop, chop, chop

Then, Bucky's worst fear came true (other than living in New Jersey). A loud, shrill, and blood-curdling scream from you. Bucky almost sliced his own hand when he flinched, shooting up to go to you. HYDRA? SHIELD? CIA? Fuck, fuck, fuck. He was careful, no one should know. Bucky rounded a corner, almost taking the trim out with his shoulder. His metal hand grasped around the handle of your door, not taking any time to knock before throwing it open and off the hinges. Expecting to see blood, men in tac suits, guns… not you wrapped in a towel, dripping water as you stood on the toilet seat.

“Bucky…” you whispered, eyes wide with fear, gaze not leaving the shower. Until they set on him, when you jumped down (bucky finches– scared you'd slip) and scurried behind his back. Balling his shirt in your fist as you hid behind him, dampening the white fabric. “It's still in there.”

Bucky sighed, just glad to see you weren't dead. “What? What is?”

You just let out a high-pitched and arguably pathetic whine, pointing at the tub, eyebrows knitted together tight. Bucky tried to pay no mind to the fact you were pretty much naked, hair stuck to your neck and face. Slowly, craning his neck to see a small, stink bug crawling at the bottom. 

“Really? A stink bug?” Bucky asked.

“Get it!”

Bucky leaned down and grabbed the bug between his metal thumb and index, crushing it. Flipping up the toilet seat and flushing away the stinky bug, taking a piece of paper and wiping the excess dead bug off his finger. A righteous death, as much as it can be.

Turning around, Bucky fought back a blush. The curve of your neck, and collarbone. Your exposed thighs taunt him. He needs to snap the fuck out of it, if anything you two are just roommates. No amount of universe bullshit would change your mind. But oh, oh god. You turned slightly and he caught a glimpse of the words written on your body, his words. Bucky almost fainted.

“Thank you. You have been crowned official bug killer.” you teased, still just standing there.

His ears tinted pink and probably stuttered, “uh-huh, go- go get dressed.”

“Sir, yes sir.” You made a stupid military salute, turning back to the door. “Also, you’re fixing that.”

Bucky fidgeted with his hand, trying to avoid his eye from your chest. “Yeah, yeah, I will. Don’t worry.”

You smiled big, took a few steps towards Bucky, and pecked his cheek. It happened so fast, Bucky didn't process it until you had scurried away and into your room, the door shutting behind you. Bucky's hand ghosted the spot where your lips lay, utterly stunned.

Bucky needed to sit down.

-

Your steps echoed through the apartment hallway, with the feeling of hundreds of pounds on your shoulders. Your legs were wobbly and weak after a long 10-hour shift. You'd been nursing a headache for the past few hours and despite working in a hospital, you hadn't had time to get some ibuprofen. The key to your apartment jangle in the lock and you let out a sigh as the door opens. Alpine takes no time to greet you at the door, the apartment is dark and quiet and if it wasn't for the boots by the door and empty mugs or coffee on the kitchen table, you'd say it was empty. 

Alpine jumps onto the table in front of you, you swat him away quickly and scratch at her head. “Is Bucky home? Hm, where is he?” you coo at the cat. Your eyebrows knot as he jumps off the counter and trots away from the kitchen and towards your bedroom. 

The door to your bedroom that's usually closed is now cracked open and Alpine nudges his way into the room, cracking the door open more. On the opposite side of the bed, in the far corner is a pile of blankets and a pillow. The comforter raised up and down quickly, faintly you could hear the sound of Bucky's grunts and gasps.

Slowly, not to startle the seemingly always ready-to-fight assassin, you walk towards him and pull at the comforter. “Bucky?”

Bucky’s chest heaved up and down, sweat dripped down his face and made his hair stick to his face and neck. His eyes slowly look up at you and all you could see was panic and terror in his eyes, his lips stained red with blood and bruises. 

Crouching down to him and reaching out, hoping he’ll let you. 

“Hey,” you whisper quietly, gently so as not to startle him. Bucky’s eyes avoid yours and he's still gasping for breath like he's being choked and suffocated.

You crane your neck to meet his eyes, tears brim but they don’t fall and you bring your hand up to his face slowly. Giving time for him to swat your hand away before you caress his cheek with your thumb. “Breathe, buck. Please.”

He opens his mouth to speak, a whined croak comes out. “I can’t, — breathe. I’m so-” he chokes out a mess of words.

“Hey, hey, no. it's okay.” you shush him and he brings his palm up to your shoulder and forearm. “What do you need? Show me?”

Bucky looks at you for a faltering moment and the sheer emotions on his face stun you, he looks so broken and vulnerable in front of you. He hesitates for a moment, but you notice the way he's looking at you and the subtle tug on your arm. 

You fall into his arms, pushing the pillow barricade he's made around himself. A sigh escapes his lips at your warmth and you've realized your headache has seemed to fade and a sense of comfort is found in Bucky's arms.

A few minutes pass of your head laid comfortably on Bucky's shoulder, both your arms tangled around his. Bucky's chest slowed to a normal, slow pace and he was breathing normally. Bucky groans as you pull away from his chest. His grasp is still tight around you but you're just far enough away to see his face. 

You notice the dried blood and splits on his lips, you scoff and bring a thumb up to wipe away the blood. “And you always lecture me about biting my lip,” you said, almost teasing.

“M’ sorry.” he blinks. “I didn't realize I was even doing that, I just got so overwhelmed and everything just happened.”

You hum, as you brush his hair back and behind his ears, his skin is still damp and sticky. “It's okay,” you speak, rubbing at his arm. You look down and take notice of the blankets around you once again. “Is this what you do?”

Bucky's head perks up towards you, “what?”

“Make pillow forts when you get overwhelmed.”

Bucky looks down, but you notice his smile lines grow slightly and see the way his lip quirks up. “It's so childish, I know.”

You shake your head, a similar smile creeping up on you as well. Bucky continues, “As a kid, Steve and I, we used to build forts out of anything we could find when Steve used to sleep over. It's a comforting feeling, helps me calm down.”

You nod and bring your hand to meet his, feeling the rough skin under yours as your hand moves against his. You tug slightly as you slowly bring yourself to your feet, Bucky wishes to pull you back into him and never let go. 

“Come on, now,” you say. “You’re all gross and sweaty, I gotta wash my blankets now and you have to take a shower.”

Bucky’s face softened and he realizes, despite the current circumstances, he’d be okay with feeling like this forever. As long as you were there.

tag list; @i-l-y-3000 @ivywasmaroon @waywardcrow @alana4610 @ozwriterchick @slytherinambitious @wintermischief @tarotwitchy-main @silelda @zizzlekwum @iv3t

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #james bucky barnes #bucky x reader #marvel #marvel fanfiction #bucky fic #sebastian stan #bucky x female reader #bucky fluff #sebastian stan x reader

[alcego]

so i've been waffling abt whether or not i'll go back to the equestrian team next semester (there have been Issues™ that i'm not fond of) & i'm honestly thinking that if i do i'm gonna start doing western & drop their english practices bc:

western makes me open my hips just by virtue of stirrup placement & riding style

if i do at some point meet show qualifications for the western team i won't have to deal with the fucking batshit IHSA standards for hunters, which can be boiled down to "your eq should look good but also if you're not a twig we'll automatically place you lower bc it's 'not the right look'" (legit had a judge tell me to look into thigh slimming exercises bc i don't currently have the slim, streamlined look they prefer; she was out of line to say this, but do note that a judge is more than welcome to say "you don't have the look we're looking for" which means "we don't care how good a rider you are if you're fat")

western is actually pretty fun? and i feel like i'll learn more from the team's coach since she's primarily a western rider/trainer (& also i despise the way she runs english practices but that's neither here nor there lol)

our horses are 90% wanglish anyway, so at least this way i won't be asking a horse to do english things they've clearly never been trained to do

like i'm not thrilled with the team as a general rule of thumb but i want to give it another shot now that we've got new officers & things will be lightening up as we move past quarantine & if i still don't vibe i'll just dip bc it ain't worth it & i have a really good coach who i enjoy working with & is good at what she does outside of the team anyway

#mostly i'm just tired lol #the amount of drama this team makes is unreal like ok. ok. we get it. #had my actual literal coach talking shit about me WHILE I WAS RIDING BY HER and i got SO mad #bc a) she'd NEVER given me any feedback on the thing she was shittalking about & b) it was literally just. such a rude thing to say. #WHILE I WAS RIGHT THERE #like. okay. #''can't believe AJ's finally able to sit the canter on CARL [bounciest horse fucking alive]'' after they'd had me on a horse who #everyone knows is fucking HARD to sit properly FOR SEVERAL WEEKS IN A ROW #& they also treat me like i don't know anything? which is infuriating & makes me feel condescended to #especially bc i go to team practice the day after riding w/my other trainer #who has me on a green OTTB that i guarantee the vast majority of the girls on the team would not be able to ride well #and i placed HIGH in jumping classes with that horse in the open show #& they're still like ''oh let's tell AJ this very basic thing abt riding bc Clearly They Don't Know'' even tho i DO & i'm usually already #doing the thing #but i have a very subtle hand & seat (smth my trainer knows; she's seen me do no-stirrup work & remarked that i make it look easy) #(i just have a soft hand and communicate mostly through my seat which means that it looks like i'm not doing much when in reality i'm #working approx 10 billion dif things at the same time) #and i just hate being treated like i need to be spoken down to when ik the major issues they have with me are #a) i'm fat. i don't 'have the look.' #and b) they didn't see me ride until i was coming back from a literal broken foot #so i wasn't at my best and was actively rehabbing my leg since i lost a TON of muscle mass #& they were like ''oh well clearly this is what we should expect from AJ as a rider'' even tho they fucking Knew. #ANYWAY #i'm gonna talk it over w/my sister some more over the summer #but i'm not really hopeful about this team #our coach has been brought before the dean several times if that tells u anything #ugh #personal

[criticallyacclaimedstranger]

Fic: What We Don't Know Can't Hurt Us

Fandom: Triple Frontier

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Librarian!Reader (cishet female) meet-cute

Warnings: No warnings really, some language and mention of masturbation and sex. Reader doesn't like kids. Yearning. Frankie is a TOTAL DILF SWEETHEART. Sad ending.

Summary: Reader is a librarian who has to temp at the kids' section desk from time to time which is a pain because she doesn't like kids. And who is a regular if not a very hot, scruffy-looking dad with the very polite and mild-mannered daughter? Sparks fly but some things maybe aren't meant to be.

Words: 5,155

a/n: Just to be clear, this one doesn't end well. I just wanted to write something sad, I guess.

Oh, shit, there he is again. The Hot Dad.

You straighten a little in your chair and once again curse the fact that you’re working in the children’s section at the library: the only desk that isn’t adjustable. You prefer to do your service desk duties standing up, not only for ergonomic reasons but because you hate how patrons look down on you – literally – when you’re seated by the desk. Also, you tend to slouch and it’s not an attractive look. And at the kids’ section, you’re all supposed to work on the same level as the little tykes. And you’re not particularly keen on those.

You are, however, keen on hot dads. God knows you only get them once in a blue moon and if they show up, it’s usually in tow of a whole clan of children and a wife. But this dad has been in once before when you’ve had desk duty and you saw him stop at the shelf for picture books about divorce and pick out a few. You also heard him tell his little girl that she shouldn’t bring the books she chose to her mom’s. Divorcee, so fantasizing was even more allowed – although he probably had a girlfriend. Guys like that always do.

“You don’t want to lose them, sweetie,” he had explained patiently to his daughter. “You can keep them in your room at my place but if you take them to your mom’s there’s a risk you lose them and that means I have to pay for them. You see, we’re only borrowing these books, that’s what you do in a library.”

You had smiled an inwards smile when listening to him. There was nothing you loved more than parents who actually seemed to understand that all the material in the library was free at one simple condition: return it in time, in the same condition as you borrowed it. A lot of people did not seem to grasp this and made a huge deal when they failed to meet these conditions and were faced with late fees or even had to compensate for lost books. But when parents who knew how to use a library include their offspring, explain how it all works for them, well, that’s how you foster a new generation of good library patrons.

This dad did just that. And he was very careful with the books, prompting his daughter to be the same. Every book she pulled out of the stacks, he helped her put back in the right place. That’s practically marriage material right there and it was enough to make you weak at the knees, to be honest. After almost ten years working in a public library, you were disillusioned about people in general and their intelligence in particular. Sure, you liked your job enough to not cry in the mornings when you had to leave bed, and you did enjoy the work itself (mostly), but… having to deal with people was exhausting. Having to deal with little people even more so, and the worst was having to deal with adult people who had little people with them. Parents.

Hence your absolute obsession with Hot Dad who was soft-spoken, really good with his kid, understood to appreciate the library and its services, nodded his hello to you when passing by the desk, didn’t make a mess, clearly read to his kid regularly and encouraged her to read for herself. You just didn’t get to see people like that so often, and it triggered your interest. You allowed yourself to daydream about him.

Francisco Morales. You remember his name from his last visit, when he and the kid came up to the desk with their haul. You always encouraged patrons to use the self-service check-out (the less you had to do deal with them, the better), but for this guy you were more than willing to go the extra service mile, even with the kid staring at your every move from across the desk as you registered all the loans. You silently gave her plus points for not trying to “help” like some kids did, and for the quiet but clear Thank you she gave you without prompting from her father.

You’re busying yourself with the returns, loading them onto a cart, when you hear a soft, deep voice go Excuse me behind your back. You twirl around and see Morales, pulling his baseball cap off his head to reveal curls that would make any hair model cry of envy.

“Sorry to bother you,” he offers. Take me now, you think to yourself but instead, you give him your brightest customer service smile, the one you rarely give patrons.

“No worries, how can I help?”

“We’re looking for picture books about farm animals. You don’t happen to have those separated? I noticed you have some subject areas separated.” He gestures back towards the picture book stacks where his daughter is quietly perusing.

“We don’t, but I think we have some Julia Donaldsons available, let me come and have a look.”

You don’t always offer. With most patrons, you’d tell them to look under D for Donaldson and then smile sweetly and ask them if they’re okay to do it themselves. You can’t do everything for everyone, that way they’ll never learn. But for Francisco Morales and his well-behaved little girl, you’re absolutely willing to make an exception.

There are some Donaldsons that the girl, whose name you learn is Sofia, eagerly accepts when you present her with them.

“I love fawm animals,” she sighs happily as she browses the first one. “Do you?”

“Who doesn’t love animals?” You make the effort to small talk although communicating with kids usually makes you awkward.

“What’s youw favowite? Mine is bunny. And howses. And lambs.”

“Goats! I love goats, they’re so cute and sweet and playful.” You almost add something about goats being the devil’s favorite animal as well but manage to stop yourself in time.

“Is there something else you want to ask the librarian?” Morales asks his daughter. “If not, I’m sure she has a lot of work to do, and we shouldn’t keep her any longer.”

“I’m here to help,” you shrug and give him a little smile: not a polite, impersonal one that you’d give a patron, but a more intimate one. A flirty smile. “You just need to ask.”

The smile he gives you back is warm and grateful, and you realize that he doesn’t have different facial expressions for different people. He doesn’t work in customer service because if he did, he’d know the difference. Not that you ever thought he worked in retail or anything like that, well, maybe a hardware store, but no. He just doesn’t seem like the type. The way he moves his body suggests something a lot more physical.

Oh, you’d like to get physical with him, alright…

All the sucky library-themed pick-up lines flash through your head. Can I check you out as an overnight loan? Can I insert my private collection into your empty stacks? My reference desk or yours? Am I being too loud, well, you’ll just have to shush me with your lips. You’re like an overdue library book because you have fine written all over you.

Worst part is, if Hot Dad Morales tried any of these on you, you’d probably forgive him and go for it. Maybe. You’re really not that simple, but a girl can dream, right?

The kid thanks you and you return to the relative safety of the desk and the mundane task of alphabetizing returns. You need to calm the fuck down and act professional. Daydreaming is fine but you’re barely toeing the line.

God, you need to get laid. As if that’s something that one can remedy just by walking into a store and ordering a medium dick with a side of hands and tongue.

📚📚📚

The next time you see Francisco and Sofia Morales, you’re taking your lunch break in the small park outside the library. It’s a sunny day and you didn’t fancy sitting in the breakroom with your salad, listening to colleagues talking about who cares what. So you took your lunch box, fork, and water bottle, and went to sit on the park bench the furthest away from the swing set and sandbox. The weather is nice and you enjoy yourself and your break from the library’s chat service. You never know what you’re gonna get when you work the chat: a stupid question about opening hours which anyone could google the answer to, or something more complicated like requests for books with partial or no titles, rarities, or subject areas that you don’t know much about. That’s when you get to use your whole competence and really dig deep, think outside the box, solve problems. You love it but it’s challenging at times, and takes a lot of energy. Your outdoor break is welcome.

“Hi!”

You hadn’t noticed the girl walking up to you and the greeting startles you.

“Oh, hi.”

“We’we wetuwning the animal books,” Sofia informs you seriously. You have to smile.

“Good job. You want more of those or something else this time?”

“Mowe. Will you help me find some?”

“I’m not working the desk at the children’s section today but my colleague there will absolutely help you. Just ask her.”

Now you see Morales walking towards you from the swing set, carrying the large, flowery canvas tote that says “book bag” he always brings to the library.

“Hello,” he nods with that warm smile that he definitely gives everyone. “Sofia, don’t disturb the lady on her break. I’m sure she wants some peace and quiet before she has to go back to work.”

Jesus fucking Christ. How does this man just know shit like this?

“I’m sowwy,” Sofia immediately offers. “I wanted to say hello.”

“Don’t worry, it’s okay,” you allow, although technically, he’s not wrong. “I’m almost done. It was nice to see you. I hope you have a good visit to the library.”

“Thank you!” She skips along and Morales chuckles as he takes off his baseball cap and scratches his head, swipes his long locks out of his forehead, then puts the hat back on.

“You’re her favorite, you know,” he tells you. When you raise your eyebrow, not comprehending, he hurries to elaborate. “Of the librarians. She says you’re the best.”

“Thank you, but whatever for?” You know you do a good enough job at your usual position and that your regulars appreciate you, but you are also very aware of not being at your finest in the kids’ section.

“You have to ask her,” Morales grins as he looks out for his kid, who has returned to the swing set and is pumping her legs on the swing, brows knitted in concentration. “But she’s very taken with you. I think it’s because you’re very calm and focused with her.”

Calm and focused??? You almost laugh out loud. That’s everything you’re not when you’re at the kids’ desk.

“Thanks,” you manage, because you have to say something.

“She’s also really interested in your tattoos and I definitely think she wants to get her nose pierced now,” Morales goes on. “I told her that we don’t comment on people’s appearance, but just a heads up, she might ask you about those.”

Ah, the unpredictability of children.

“I appreciate it.” You really do. You don’t mind talking about your tattoos or the septum ring you have but if a kid suddenly asks about it, you’d rather be prepared.

“Anyway, sorry to intrude on your lunch.”

“No worries,” you reassure him. “You can… sit down for a while if you want to? I have ten minutes left.”

Your heart beats faster at your proposal. It’s not exactly appropriate but you just want to enjoy his company for a moment. And discreetly sniff him because he smells so fucking good, woodsy and smokey but with a hint of… vanilla? You’re terrible at recognizing smells but it reminds you of some aroma reeds you had a couple of years ago that smelled like a wood cabin with vanilla sugar spilled on the floor. You loved it but like everything you love, it was discontinued.

Morales looks over at his daughter before nodding, the book bag slipping down from his shoulder as he places it next to the bench.

“If you’re sure?”

“Wouldn’t offer if I wasn’t.”

He likes your straightforward answer, you can tell from how his eyes crinkle a little and how relaxed his body language is when he sits down.

“I’m Frankie, by the way,” he says, like he just remembered that introductions are a normal part of human interaction. He extends his right hand to you and as you accept it and tell him your name, you can’t help but marvel at how huge his hand is. Big, warm, slightly damp but not in a weird way.

“Nice to meet you, Frankie.” Frankie. Francisco Morales is Frankie. It suits him better than Francisco, to be honest.

“And that’s Sofia.” He points to the girl who seems content swinging by herself. You realize you’re expected to say something nice about her to the proud dad.

“She seems sweet.”

“Yeah, she’s awesome. And she loves coming to the library, it’s all she talks about when I have her.” He clears his throat and adds: “Her mother and I got divorced quite recently. I only get her five days every other week.”

“Sorry to hear that.” Shit, it’s divorce and custody talk from the start. You have no idea how to respond to that.

“That’s life,” he shrugs, “but I figured that going to the library every time I get her could be a good routine to ground her. And then we have books that we can read together for her entire stay.”

It’s definitely a good routine as far as you can tell.

“When I was between nine and thirteen years old, my dad would take me to the local library every Monday evening,” you tell him, smiling at the memory. “My dad never opened a book in his life but he patiently read the auto and tech magazines while I collected half the kids’ section with me. When I went to tell him that I was done, he always pretended to object to the amounts, but then he’d help me carry it all to the car.”

As you tell him this, you’re looking at him, no, staring at the patchy, grey-splashed beard he’s sporting. It’s the most fascinating thing you’ve ever seen. What’s the story there, why doesn’t it grow evenly? Is this a thing? You don’t have enough experience in the field of facial hair. Is it genetic? Is it always like this?

He keeps looking at his daughter as he listens to you with a small smile on his face, clearly enjoying your little anecdote.

“That’s lovely,” he says, turning his attention back to you when you’re finished. “Dads and daughters, huh?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

You pick up your phone to check the time. Shit. You have to return to the chat.

“I gotta go. Lunch break’s over.”

You collect your things and stand up, brushing off your skirt. Frankie stands up as well and picks up the book bag.

“I’ll see you in there?”

“I’m not a the desk today.”

“Oh.” He seems disappointed, his eyes flickering from you to the ground. “That’s too bad.”

“And the kids' section isn't my primary department.”

“The bad news just keep on coming, don't they,” he jokes as the two of you start to walk towards the entrance. Sofia jumps from the swing and comes running.

“She's not at the desk today, daddy,” she tells Frankie precociously.

“I know, mija. We'll have to ask someone else about the animal books, okay?”

Sofia doesn't seem too happy with this solution but nods. You take your leave before she has the opportunity to ask about your body modifications, and disappear through a door marked “Staff Only”.

📚📚📚

The following weeks you seem to see Frankie everywhere. You run into him at the supermarket and get drafted into advicing him on what cereal to buy for his kid. “Something healthy, but good so she'll actually eat it.” How the hell should I know? you want to scoff, but you're simping for him enough to help him choose something you'd never in a thousand years touch yourself. You see him in town one afternoon when you're running errands and he suggests you grab a coffee - holy hell, in your book that's a fucking date - but you decline as kindly as you can, citing a busy schedule when in fact you're mostly just scared out of your mind. The daydream is becoming a little too real and you're absolutely not ready for that, especially not because of the kid. If it wasn't for Sofia, you could have dared the leap, but dating a guy relatively fresh out of a marriage, and with a kid to boot? No, that's asking for trouble and you don't want trouble.

One afternoon at the kids' desk, you once again get to help Sofia find books, this time on sharks.

“She went from farm animals to sharks in one week,” Frankie confides in you when the girl is sitting quietly in a reading nook, carefully studying every page and occasionally widening her eyes at what you suspect is pictures of shark teeth. “It's sharks this and sharks that. She asks if there are sharks in every body of water she sees, from the pond in the park to the ditch outside my parents' house.”

“Have her watch Jaws and she will never want to think about sharks ever again,” you suggest, earning a laugh although the idea was probably a little bit on the morbid side.

“Maybe, but that would probably scar her for life. I actually want her to learn how to swim.”

“Then best not.”

You pick up a couple of books someone else left behind on a table and make a gesture that says I have to re-shelve these, come with and Frankie follows you to the right shelf.

“You know, she talks about you as her friend at the library.”

Now, some people would find that adorable but you don't. You're not friends with this kid, you're in a position where you could possibly influence her keenness to literature and literacy but you will always risk critique from her guardians. Being a children's librarian is like a hybrid between being in customer service, and being a teacher. You get to form young malleable minds but you are always subjected to criticism, even when you've done nothing wrong. Kids are patrons, like adults, and to have them see you as friends is only going to complicate things.

“That's nice,” you reply carefully, not really sure what else to say. It's so hard to talk to parents sometimes, one wrong words and you're basically Satan, you can't know because you don't have kids yourself, how dare you not worship the ground my offspring just vomited all over?

“You're definitely her favorite librarian.”

That you can take. You have a couple of adult patrons who come in regularly and prefer to get their reading recommendations from you. They always have time to discuss literature and they bring you a box of chocolates for Christmas.

“Well, she's easy to help. She always knows what she wants and she's polite. And quite easy to please,” you smile, meaning every word. You don't mention that the only time you like kids is when they're like Sofia is right now: reading quietly in a corner, handling the books with care.

“You're my favorite librarian as well,” Frankie adds, and now that sweet smile he's always wearing when you see him is shy. There's definitely a red tinge on his cheekbones as well and it makes you want to lean forward and kiss him on his goddamn mouth with that goddamn full lower lip that he sometimes sucks into his mouth or fucking licks...

“How many librarians do you know?” you ask and manage to sound easy-going, or at least you think so. The laugh Frankie produces is low and rolling and it makes your stomach coil in on itself. Fuck him and that deep voice he rode in on!

“Got me there. It's basically you and Mrs Wilkerson, the school librarian who scared the shit out of me when I was in elementary school. She made sure I didn't step foot in a library until, well, now.”

“Oh, I so wanted to be a librarian like that when I was a kid!” You grin at Frankie's horrified expression. “No, no, hear me out! I always had this idea that those librarians led these super rich, fulfilling lives as night-time vigilantes or that they were actually millionaires who spent their free time floating around in pools with fancy drinks in hand.”

“Were you... a normal child, besides these illusions?” Frankie teases you and before you can stop yourself, you're slapping his arm playfully. Like a girlfriend would. Or someone more intimate than a Favorite Librarian, at any rate.

“I'll have you know that the voices in my head are saying that we had a very normal and healthy childhood,” you reply with as much dignity as you can muster, while desperately wishing for the phone to ring or another patron to ask for your help. But no, the ones present seem to be managing on their own - except for one mom who seemed to have overheard your joke because she is now staring at you with hesitation in her eyes.

It's Sofia who comes to your rescue with her request of being taken to the bathroom. By the time she and Frankie are done there, your colleague has come to relieve you of your duties at the children's section.

📚📚📚

You knew of course that it was coming. You may not be that experienced in the terms of dating and relationships but you weren't stupid and you had some experience: Frankie was going to ask you out. It had to happen. Technically, it had already happened that afternoon in town when he asked you out for coffee. He maybe didn't see it as a date, but you certainly did.

It happened when you had just started your shift in the children's section and it was a fucking mess. A class of kindergarteners had just left and the teachers hadn't bothered to keep them in check, so there were not only books on every available surface, they were also put in the wrong way and in the wrong places. Your colleague who you were relieving stayed behind to help you, feeling too bad to leave it all to you.

That's when Daddy and Daughter Morales showed up. You weren't really happy about the existence of kids in the first place but made an effort for Sofia, who brought you a drawing she had made in preschool that day. It featured some figures in green, slightly reminiscent of animals and one human but you wouldn't be able to tell. Luckily, Frankie explained it to you.

“She's waited all day to give you this drawing of you with goats.”

“Wow,” you manage. “Thank you, Sofia, this was so kind of you.”

The girl is beaming with pride. “Will you put it on the wall?”

“Super probably!”

“I can see you're busy,” Frankie notes and ushers Sofia along. “We won't distract you. Come on, honey, let her do her job now and maybe you'll get to talk to her later.”

You nod your thanks and focus on cleaning up the entire department before you colleague leaves and Frankie and Sofia come to the desk to borrow this week' picks. Sofia seems uncharacteristically giddy.

“Do you want to come with us to the awbowetum?” she asks with a wide, expectant smile. Fuck shit ass hell.

“We're going on Saturday,” Frankie fills in, “and we were both hoping you'd want to join?”

Saturday. Thank goodness.

“Sorry, I work on Saturday,” you say, trying to sound rueful. It's true and you're relieved about not having to lie. “But thanks, it's sweet of you to ask.”

Sofia is clearly disappointed and so is Frankie, but he masks it better.

“Some other time, yeah?”

If it were only him, you'd tell him it wasn't a good idea. But you can't say that with the kid right in front of you. You may not like kids but that doesn't mean you want to scar them for life.

“Yeah, maybe.”

You loan them the books and as they leave, Sofia waves happily at you and Frankie shoots you one last smile that makes you press your thighs together in your seat.

Come Saturday, you're by your usual desk in the section for adult fiction and you almost fall off your chair when you see Frankie come up the stairs and straight up to the desk.

“Hi.” He's had a haircut and a shave and looks different. Still good, but very different. The dark locks of his hair are more tamed. The mustache is still there but you miss the patchy beard.

“Um, hi? Where's Sofia?”

“In the car, with a friend. We're going to the arboretum.”

“Right. I hope you have a good time, the arboretum's lovely.” You still don't understand what he's doing here and he seems to have some difficulty in telling you. Moving his weight from one foot to the other, he scratches his neck and looks down - why does he have to be so freaking cute? - before looking up at you.

“About that... I wanted to apologize. I wasn't sure it was a good idea to ask you to come with, but Sofia was so persistent. She likes you so much. I didn't mean to put you on the spot like that. I'm sorry.”

“That's alright,” you brush it off because there's not really anything else you can say. “Don't think about it, just go have a good day.”

“I also wanted to ask if you wanted to go grab a drink with me. Just me. Maybe next week when Sofia's at her mother's.”

Fuck, there it is. His hopeful face makes you hate yourself for the answer you have to give.

“I'm not sure that's such a good idea, Frankie,” you begin carefully. “I'm really flattered, but you're... recently divorced with a kid. That's a lot of baggage and things could get complicated. I don't want to get caught up in that.”

You've practiced this speech at home but it still breaks your fucking heart because Frankie is so good-looking, kind, funny, and sweet. You would've asked him out yourself already if it wasn't for the baggage. Fuck, you masturbate to the thought of him, for crying out loud! You imagine what it would be like to be with him, to make dinner together and watch movies and go to bed and wake up in each other's arms. You think about sex with him a lot. You make an effort with your appearance those days you know he'll show up at the library, you don't even mind the kids' section that much anymore because you get to talk to him.

You are fucking in love with him, or at least the idea of him because you don't know much about him, only that he used to be a pilot in the special forces but now he trains new pilots, he has best friends who are like uncles to Sofia (and who have been asking about this mystery librarian she always keeps talking about), he likes cooking and loves baking with his daughter, he hates working out but knows he should take better care of himself, hell, you even know what brand of milk he buys.

He's clearly disappointed but keeps a brave face, one that you can see right through because he wears his heart on his sleeve.

“I understand that,” he says quietly, mildly. “I'm sorry, I hope I didn't embarrass you.”

Jesus fucking Christ can this man not???

“No, don't worry. I'm sorry I couldn't give you the answer you wanted. It's just... not a good time.”

Shit. You shouldn't have said that. Now he might think it could be a better time later.

Frankie nods and smiles sadly. “Yeah, you're probably right.”

“I'm sorry.”

“Yeah, me too.”

He clears his throat and nods. “I better be going. You have a good weekend now.”

“You too.”

He shoots you one final smile before he turns around and leaves. As you watch him go down the stairs to the exit level, you just want to call his name, do your run through the airport and hurry after him, throw yourself into his arms, kiss him, Jesus, imagine that somewhere there's someone who'll get to kiss him some day, tell him that you made a huge mistake and you want to go out with him, you want to have drinks with him and dinner and breakfast and lunch for the rest of your lives because nothing would make you happier than making him happy. You want to be the reason his eyes crinkle and his cheek displays that little dimple that makes you lose your train of thought every time you see it.

But it's not for you. People with kids need to prioritize their kids and you know that you can't be anyone's number two. You don't want to get caught up in custody disputes, you don't want to be "your father's new slut", you don't want to be anyone's stepmom. You don't want to have to spend five days a week in the same house as a five-year-old. Being in a relationship is difficult enough as it is and if you can make choices that avoid some of the problems, you're going to make them, no matter how much it hurts.

And it hurts. A lot. But so much in life hurts and you've made it through before.

He must already be out the door, probably in the car. Does he say something about this to his daughter and friend? Is it a female friend? No, it must be one of his army buddies, probably one of the brothers.

You pull up Frankie's profile in the library database and see his phone number. You could call him anytime. Or send a text. Keep talking to him, flirting.

Shit. It's a bad idea.

A patron approaches the desk and you force yourself to look mild and service-minded.

“Hi, do you have Hate To Want You by someone called... Ray, I think?”

“Please hold a moment, I'll check.” You stifle the sigh that threatens to escape you and hope that the day will be busy so you won't have time to think about Francisco Morales again.

#my fic #triple frontier #francisco catfish morales #francisco frankie morales #frankie morales #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x reader

[officialtrashbusiness]

Hidden Gem - Katsuki Bakugou

info : fluff, cursing, gn! reader, ( kinda? )self indulgent , mostly bakugou’s pov

word count: 1889

synopsis: You’re the quiet and forgettable student in class 1-A that is until you tell Katsuki Bakugou to ‘shut the fuck up’.

Amongst the eccentric students of class 1-A, you were a part of the quiet and reserved minority-- including but not limited to: Shoji, Tokoyami and Koda. Compared to your quieter (and shyer) classmates, you were physically plain. You could say the same about your quirk as well. It was not eye catching compared to the heroic and whimsical wonders that were your classmates. If the people outside of class 1-A were to have a sudden fascination with you, they would conclude that you were part of general education-- the much blander courses of UA. These variables formulated a simple conclusion: You were forgettable, and you were fine with that.

So it wasn’t much of a discovery when the infamous firecracker of a blonde had zero fucking clue as to who you were. So much so that when you had uncharacteristically told him to ‘Shut the fuck up’, after some built up tension of one bad examen score and his constant yowling that you had to deal with as you sat in behind him, he was stunned alongside the class of 1-A. His bubbling brain tried to place the crude nickname that he so humbly gave you just like he did with every bumbling idiot in the classroom.

But his brain turned out blank.

His scrutinizing, carmine eyes traced your complexion as he tried to spit up some basic yet negative nicknames for you that are usually attributed to your physical features. He couldn’t find a defining detail that he could dub you with. It fucking irked him.

What the fuck? He thought. Who..

“Who the fuck were you, hah?” Bakugou snarled. His back was slightly hunched as he leaned forward towards you. His fingers slightly curled at his side as if he was threatening to trigger his quirk in the classroom. His pose and threatening scowl were used as tools to intimidate you. The quirk of his lip exposed the canine of his teeth while his hair seemed to bristle with vexing rage.

Kinda like a cat, you inwardly chuckle as you try to ease the trepidation riddling your brain. The unusual amount of eyes on you were unorthodox and felt like a sunburn. The murmurs and giggles amongst the students of class 1-A had turned your brain into mush. You did not mean to say that out loud.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” You shot back without thinking.

A howl of laughter makes you jolt as well as the sudden realization that hits you once you have processed what you had said. Bakugou’s eyes widen for a fraction of a second before transitioning into a jaw clenching growl. You could see his whole being vibrate with rage.

The class president marches up from the other side of the room. His instincts pull him from his seat as he predicts that Bakugou’s going to have hissy fit with one of the (supposedly) quietest students in class. His sense of responsibility did not want a scorch mark on the walls.. Or on your face.

“Enough, you two!” Iida scolds as he towers over the both of your sitting figures. “We do not tolerate inappropriate language!” His hand slices through the air, ashamed as he has to scold the two students for fowl language. He turns over to the spiky haired blonde, “I expected this kind of behavior from you, Bakugou but (L/--”

“Shut the fuck up, glasses!” Bakugou spat out as his glare was now pointed at the dutiful class president. Iida’s eyes widen behind his glasses with offense. His mouth parts, ready to fire another scolding towards the mouthy blonde. “Quit your fucking nagging! I’m tired of your uptight ass!”

“(L/N),” Sero calls out. His laugh cuts through the argument and grabs your attention. “I never knew you had it in you to tell Bakugou off!” He tilts his head back with laughter.

Kaminari pats a hand on Sero’s shoulder. His body doubled over with snorts and howling. “Yeah!” He snorts before wiping a fake tear away causing Sero to giggle. “We all thought you were shy and stuff! You’re always so quiet!” He points an accusing finger towards Bakugou. “You even got him to shut up for a second! You’re a miracle worker!”

You chuckle before giving the two jokesters a smug smile and shrug, feeling your heart lighten at the sudden praise.

“Shut the fuck up! This nobody didn’t do jack shit, you fucking dumbasses!”He fumed before hearing the chimes of your giggles enter his ear. His ego deflates as his body bristles. He whips his head towards your direction. “What’s so fucking funny, extra?!” He screamed.

“I just didn’t expect you to listen to me.” You smirked.

An unexpected acquaintanceship between you and the two knuckleheads from Bakugou’s group began to slowly form after that-- much to Bakugou’s chagrin and your surprise. They’re stuck to you like a pair of parasites feeding off of you for nutrients, Bakugou mentally grumbled. He instantly knew the relationship between the three was reminiscent of him and the other parasites in his group. You had grown to warm up to the two boys after they relentlessly poked and prodded you, just like Bakugou did-- although, he would be caught dead admitting any positive comments relating to his group.

By the time you had opened up, the rest of the group had followed suit and made friends with you. It was only natural seeing that you have been recruited by one of the two dumbasses of the group. Having two friends from the group, you naturally melded in.

The quiet demeanor you held in front of class seemed to unravel once you had made your home in the sociable group. You had separated yourself from the distant and shy minority and began to feel more secure conversing amongst your fellow classmates. Although you weren’t friends with everyone in the classroom, you had the ability to smile and approach them with ease.

Amongst all of this, Bakugou was the outlier of the classroom. In contrast to everyone, he talked to you even less than before. His pride and embarrassment impelled him to ignore you, in which you did back-- you didn’t have the gall to bother him. Although the communication between the two of you was dead, he would watch you from afar.

Bakugou identified people by physical appearance but never by name. His mind was too busy bustling about becoming the number one hero for him to care about names. He always remembered faces and the different (most of the time negative) facets of people’s appearance, but he didn’t remember yours. He had never seen your face and he couldn’t deem a nickname based off of the quirks of your appearance, and it pissed him right the fuck off.

So, he watched the way you move, the tone of your voice and the way you talked. He watched your hands move as you talk confidently with his little group of stalkers from the corner of his eyes. His ears picked up the loud chime of your laughter and noted your thoughts and opinions as you broadcasted them to the group.

He had noticed that you were honest and straightforward when the time really appreciated it to be. You were a bit opinionated, but held an air of understanding. He wants to laugh at the fact that you’re a little mean hearted despite seeming to always lend a hand when there was any sign of needing one.

You were different from what he perceived. You weren’t some plain wuss of an extra, and he didn’t know what to think of it.

You were a diamond in the ruff, an intruding thought whispers.

Bakugou stomped away after an excruciating match with Todoroki. His usual hunched back was heavier and the trample of his feet was louder than usual. His heavy set growl seemed more menacing as he grumbled out curses. His red eyes glowered at the floor.

He found himself under the shade where the bleachers were. He snatched his plastic bottle from where it resided underestimating the weight as he realized it was empty. He rips out a growl of annoyance before tossing the bottle into the large blue recycling bin near him.

“You want one of mine?” An all too familiar voice called out.

He whipped his upward to see you sitting two benches up. The upper half of your body was slightly hunched as one of your elbows rested on your knee. Your face leans against the heel of your palm that is being supported by your knee. The arm closest to him is extended towards him as it tries to offer him a cool bottle of pocari sweat.

For the second time, he pauses. His eyes blink as he observes your sitting form, trying to slew some sort of nasty nickname at you, but it comes out blank. Your eyes are a bit sleepy from the sun’s beating and the harsh one-on-one between you and one of your classmates. Your expression is relaxed and seems a bit spacey (or maybe a tad bit soft) as you look down at him. Your cheeks look pillowy as the hand against it pushes out a subtle pout from your lips. You let out a soft ‘here’ before tossing the bottle at him, which he snatches from the air effortlessly.

This was his second time directly talking to you, he thinks to himself as he stares down at the bottle. You had only made comments about him, but never talked to him. He starts to wonder if you also observe him from the corner of your eye or listen to his snappy remarks.

“It hasn’t been tinkered with, if that’s what you’re wondering.” He can tell by the tone of your voice that you were joking, so he looks up to see if there’s a sleepy smile on your face. There was one. “I bought an extra one because I noticed that your bottles are always almost empty as soon as the hero's class is over.” You stated honestly.

Bakugou realizes he’s been too quiet, so he tuts and looks away. Your hotheaded classmate reluctantly twists the white cap as the air around his face begins to warm up.

“Shut the fuck up. I don’t need you to be my fucking mom.” He hisses before taking a swig as he tries to avoid the pressuring gaze of your eyes before turning to glare at you as he tightens the lid.

“No need to be embarrassed, Bakugou.” A smug smirk appears on your lips as you chuckle at him. Your sleepy eyes look unintentionally sultry as it accompanies your smirk. It doesn’t help that your relaxed pose enhances the way you. His stomach tightens. “I’m just trying to be nice.”

The flushed blonde reddens even more, realizing that his reaction had been caught red handed. “L-Like hell, I’m fucking embarrased!” He exclaims.

You mirror the wide eyed expression on his face at the realization of his stutter. Your smiles widened as you let out a laugh. It dawns on him as he watches you laugh as to why he couldn’t find a kink in your appearance. The blissed out look on your face as well as the melody of your laughter makes his heart stutter.

You’re fucking beautiful and he hates it.

Please Reblog if you enjoyed it! I might make a part two, but only if y’all tell me to!

#✨👁.writes #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou imagine #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #mha #mha x reader #mha imagine #imagine mha #my hero academia #my hero academia x reader #boku no hero x reader #katsuki bakugou #fluff

[goldentournesol]

Solace

(Spencer Reid x Reader)

The one where plus size!Reader is struggling with her body image and Spencer gives her a boost of confidence.

Length: 2.8k (whew, i got really carried away, this hit home)

masterlist

“Good morning, lovely crime fighters!” Y/N chirped as she walked into the bullpen, holding a file which indicated that they had another case. She had replaced JJ as the communications liaison when JJ became a profiler. 

She was a hugger. She hugged everyone, hoping to make them feel more human as they took on the cruelest of the cruel. Everyone welcomed her hugs, even Spencer. Hell, especially Spencer. She was the BAU’s resident ray of sunshine and Spencer quickly realized how much he’d needed her positive energy in his life. Today, however, she gasped as she hugged him tight.

“Spencer, this cardigan is so soft!” She exclaimed excitedly, one of her hands running up and down one of the sleeves of his lavender cardigan. It was his favorite color. The action alone sent Spencer into a spiral of emotions. He didn’t know which to deal with first: his stomach erupting in butterflies, every inch of his skin heating up and reddening, or the fuzz she created in his brain.

“I-uh…um, y-yeah! It is!” Spencer stammered as she stared up at him.

Morgan and Emily exchanged a knowing look and scoffed at their coworker’s obliviousness. The two have been dancing around their feelings for each other and the entirety of the BAU took notice. They all filed into the conference room where Y/N presented them with the case.

“Time is of the essence with this case, wheels up in 30.” Hotch stated as he picked up his file and left.

The case was tough and almost all the leads were dead ends. A few days into the case, Spencer and Y/N were the only ones left in the police station. Spencer stared intensely at the geographical profile he’d created from his seat, hoping something new would come to him. Y/N picked at her dinner in boredom, but mostly out of a loss of appetite. Spencer noticed that she had her chin propped up by her palm, lost in her own thoughts.

“Hey, everything alright? You should really finish your dinner so you can get some energy.” His soft voice took her out of her head. He’d noticed how she hated eating in front of others, always preferring to eat alone. She gave him a weak smile and nodded, noticing that his takeout container was empty. 

“Yeah, I just…don’t feel like eating.” He nodded, understanding but also decided not to prod any further. He hoped she would confide in him if there was anything else on her mind.

They caught the unsub a day later and were on the jet back home before they knew it. Y/N took one of the window seats and immediately zoned out, eyes staring out the window into the blackness of the night sky. Her arms had automatically wrapped around her body in an attempt to hide it from the world. 

Spencer took the seat across from her and watched as she retreated into the darkness of her own mind. Even the sun had to set every day. She felt his gaze on her and somehow felt him scrutinize every inch of her skin. 

An hour went by and the air conditioning in the jet had gotten too cold for Y/N’s liking. Spencer looked up from his book to find her body shivering slightly, her hands only doing the best they could to warm her up as she tried to create warmth. Spencer reached into his go-bag and found the cardigan that she had complimented him on.

“Here, take this.” Spencer once again ripped her from her own head. His hand holding the soft piece of fabric as his arm extended to reach her. A look of panic danced across her features as she eyed it. She began to shake her head profusely.

“No, no, no! It’s okay! I’m f-fine, I don’t need it…” She sputtered out quickly. The truth is, she knew it wouldn’t fit her and she would rather stub her pinkie toe one hundred times than admit it.

“Y/N, you’re literally shivering. Just take it.” Spencer insisted, setting it down on the table between them.

“No, Spencer, you don’t understand. I can’t put it on.” She stated firmly. 

His confusion was evident on his features. Did she think he’d be grossed out if she put it on? Oh God, did it smell bad? No, he’s sure he washed it. She looked like she might cry, her eyes glossing over and her lip quivering slightly, it would have probably gone unnoticed by anyone else but him. Spencer’s heart shattered as a wave of realization hit him.

She thought it wouldn’t fit her. 

The material was quite elastic, he thought it could stretch on her a little but he didn’t mind at all. He knew his frame wasn’t large or impressive, but never in a million years had he meant to make her feel uncomfortable.

She saw the realization hit him and she wanted nothing more than to curl up into a ball and disappear. The silence between them was deafening to her. 

“It’s alright, you don’t have to put it on if you don’t want to. You can just use it as a makeshift blanket.” He smiled softly, glancing down at the cardigan then back up at her. He saw her eyes soften slightly. 

She knew she’d break into tears if she used her voice so she resorted to nodding and giving him another of her weak smiles. He rested back into his seat after he watched her drape it over her figure. It smelled like him, like laundry detergent and coffee and it brought her a sense of comfort.

 After she made sure his attention went back to his book, she had no control over the tear that escaped from the corner of her eye. She quickly wiped it away with his cardigan. She didn’t even know what she was crying about. On one hand, Spencer was sweet enough to offer her his cardigan, but on the other, the dread she felt knowing it wouldn’t fit her was weighing her down. She knew he was just being Spencer and he didn’t mean to make her uncomfortable, but even the softest of fabrics couldn’t pull her away from her intrusive thoughts.

The rest of the journey was silent aside from the soft hum of Morgan’s music and the sound of Spencer turning pages. Y/N tried to get some sleep but couldn’t shake the thoughts away. As the plane landed, she folded up the cardigan neatly and returned it to Spencer, who just smiled and put it away. He knew he probably shouldn’t say anything, but he felt like he had to. Just as their feet reached the ground, Y/N began to take off in the direction of her car.

“Y/N, wait! Please.” Spencer called after her and she turned to him reluctantly. He made sure to wait until everyone else was out of earshot before he began stuttering nervously, “About earlier, I really hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable, t-that wasn’t my intention. I’m so sorry if I made you feel bad or anything.” His voice displayed true regret and she could practically hear the thumping of his heart against his chest. 

She smiled a little at the flustered doctor and shook her head. She rested her hand on top of his as it was clutching the strap of his messenger bag. She felt the muscles relax under her touch.

“Spencer, relax. I know you meant no harm. Thank you, I really appreciated it. You’re a sweetheart, it’s just difficult sometimes when…” she trailed off and shook her head when she couldn’t even begin to explain what she was feeling, “nevermind. It’s really late, I should get home.” She wasn’t exactly in the mood to bare her soul to Spencer about her body image issues. 

He nodded in understanding, hating that she felt that way. He was determined to make her feel better though. As they parted ways, Spencer thought of a way he could make it up to her.

Next Monday came around and Y/N walked through the bullpen to get to her office. Barely anyone had come in yet. She found a gift box sitting on top of her desk. Dumbfounded, she looked around to possibly find the culprit, but she couldn’t see anyone. She walked towards it and found a note taped to the top of the box. She recognized the handwriting immediately.

“This one’s all yours.” Spencer had scribbled as nicely as he could. 

She opened the box and reached in. Her sense of touch told her more information than her eyes could have. It was the same material of Spencer’s cardigan. She pulled it out  of the box to reveal the same exact cardigan he owned but in her own size. Warmth flooded through her heart and all the way out to the tips of her fingers. He went out of his way to make her feel happy and that alone melted away any negative feeling that had consumed her. She held the cardigan close to her chest as if it were a surrogate for Spencer as tears brimmed her eyes. She was so caught up in her emotions that she didn’t hear him come in.

He closed the door of her office slowly so as to not startle her and her eyes snapped up from the cardigan to meet with his warm ones as they tried to gauge her reaction. She didn’t even think to use her words so she made her way around the desk and wrapped him in a hug. His arms welcomed her and he felt a wave of relief hit him.

“Thank you, Spencer. You have no idea how much this means to me.You really didn’t have to do this.” she mumbled, her words muffled by her cheek against his chest. He bent his neck down and bravely placed a kiss to the top of her head.

“I’d do anything for you, Y/N.” He replied sweetly as his hands rubbed her back. He heard her sniffle into his chest. He raised a hand to rest it at the back of her head in hopes of seeing her face, “Is everything alright?” he asked as soon as she met his eyes. 

As she looked up at him, he saw the pain in her eyes but it was mixed with something else that he could only identify as adoration. Did she adore him as much as he hoped she would? 

She nodded slightly, not breaking eye contact with him. Having him this close was so nice, she had a hard time thinking again. His other hand came up to her face and she allowed for his thumb to gently wipe the tears from under her eyes. She smiled wider at the gesture and Spencer hoped his knees wouldn’t buckle under his weight.

“You’re an angel, Dr. Reid.” She teased and he smiled at the name, rolling his eyes playfully but kept a steady hand on her back and the other was cupping her face gently.

“So, do you wanna tell me what’s been going on up there?” He glanced up towards her forehead. Her smile faltered and he half-wished that he never asked. He felt her sigh against his chest and she pulled away from him.

“It’s nothing…” she began as she sat down in one of the chairs parallel to her desk, typically meant for visitors, “I don’t even know where to begin, Spence.” Her voice sounded defeated as she toyed with the cardigan in her hands. Spencer took a seat across from her but kept silent, hoping his silence would encourage her to continue.

“I know…I’m not…skinny and I don’t look like JJ or Emily or anything. And it’s really easy for me to get caught up in the self-deprecating thoughts, you know? And…most of the time I can just ignore it because I try my best to stay healthy and stuff, but sometimes it’s not enough and I start…” she broke off, huffing, “it doesn’t matter.” She shook her head, keeping her gaze floorbound.

He watched her in disbelief as she spoke, he had no idea she thought of herself that way, especially when he consistently thought she was the most beautiful woman in every single room she walked into.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to continue.” he reached for her hand with bravery and was delighted when she let him take it. She could feel how gentle he was with her and it made her heart flutter. 

“Listen to me, Y/N. I know how easy it can be to let ourselves succumb to the thoughts we have about ourselves. We always think we can define our worth by ourselves. But you don’t see it. You don’t see how beautiful you are. You don’t see the way your eyes light up like fireworks when you talk about something you’re excited about. You don’t see how we could practically use your smile as a flashlight from how bright it is. You also don’t get to hear your laugh, your real laugh, it’s so damn melodic I want to make it my ringtone. That sounds kind of creepy and I don’t know if that made any sense and I’m aware that I’m rambling, but my point is: you don’t know how beautiful you are to me. And I know the shape of your body bothers you, but honestly, you are the most beautiful woman in the world to me, not just because of what you look like but also because you are the most genuine person I’ve ever met. You’re magnetic and your pull is strong enough to send me spiraling, Y/N, even though that statement is technically impossible due to the laws of physics–but I won’t get into that at the moment. And if you don’t believe me now, I’ll spend the rest of my life telling you until you do believe it.” He took a deep breath after his confession. She was looking at him now, completely speechless with tears racing down her face. 

“I’m sorry if I overwhelmed you, Y/N. I just thought you needed to know how I felt about you.” Spencer stood, but she refused to let go of his hand, leading her to stand with him and tugged on it to keep him close to her.

“Spencer…you-” she began but she shook her head as if to gain control over her mental processes, “Spencer, you are my God given solace. You…you come in here and you literally sweep me off my feet and expect to run away? No, no, no. Now that I have you, I am never, ever, going to let you go.” She whispered the last part as she took hold of his tie and pulled on his tie gently to bring his face level with hers and pressing her lips to his gently. He reciprocated the gentle kiss and his hands found their way up to her face, cradling it and pulling it closer. He had never felt so flooded with emotion before that moment and all he could think about was her soft lips gliding against his and the way her hands rested on his chest. Soon, they pulled apart for breath and they both broke into the largest grins their faces could possibly muster.

“So…are you gonna try it on?” Spencer laughed as he took notice of the cardigan that was now laying on the floor. She had dropped it in the act of passion that had just occurred between them. 

She saw it and laughed, “Yes!” she picked it up from the floor and put it on quickly. She didn’t even care that it didn’t go well with her outfit. It fit her like a glove and Spencer couldn’t help but grin at her.

Outside her office, in the bullpen, Morgan sauntered over to Spencer’s desk with a coffee in his hand, “Where’s the kid?”

JJ and Emily nodded their heads towards Y/N’s office and Morgan let out an ‘ah’ of understanding, a knowing smile plastered across his features.

The door to her office swung open and the two of them walked out with grins literally reaching up to their ears. Morgan couldn’t help but whistle as he saw the way the young couple shared a loving look.

“Finally! My God, we were getting impatient!” Emily exclaimed as the pair made their way over to where they were sitting. Morgan immediately reached up to ruffle Spencer’s hair and Spencer swatted his hand away.

“Nice cardigan, Y/N.” JJ smirked and raised a brow at her friend and the pair shared another loving look.

#spencer x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fanfic #dr spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #cm #mgg #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #plus size reader #spencer reid x plus size reader

[radiosandrecordings]

Based on this post I made earlier. Also available on ao3 here. 

Warning for implied sexual content, but nothing is detailed and Jon isn’t involved in any way. 

Jon felt himself relax as he found a free seat on the train, letting out a sigh. To be on your way home on a Friday was always a good thing, but getting an unexpected half day was especially nice. 

He’d been trying to cut down on the amount of time he spent in work recently. Martin had been badgering him about it, and for once he let himself take the opportunity to not push himself beyond what was required. Besides, he always felt rather lonely on Friday’s, heading off to work by himself while his partners still slept. It was one of Martin’s days off from the library, and Gerry taught the evening class that day, so he didn’t have to be at the art school until eight. 

He pulled out his phone to text them both, tell them he’d be home early, before realising rather too late that no, after five years of living in London there wasn’t suddenly signal on the tube. 

He slid his phone back into his pocket. It’d just have to be a surprise then. He was only about ten minutes from his stop, and then he could walk home and get dinner on the way - or, he supposed with the early hour, lunch. He could waltz in the door and it would be a lovely surprise, and what a perfect way to start a weekend. 

~~~

“Surprise! Boss ordered us all out early, basement is getting fumigated or some such thing. I brought- Oh!” Bags of food in one hand, he used the other to push open the bedroom door. Which revealed…

“Oh, Jesus-”

“Jon?” 

Jon felt himself instinctively step back from the doorway. He tried to get words out, but his brain had decided that it didn’t exactly want to cooperate right now.

Martin pulled the sheet around himself self consciously. “Jon, we’re so sorry, we didn’t think you’d be home-”

“I’ll just go and- Uh- Put this… In the kitchen,” Jon managed to stammer out, before retreating to the safety of another room.

So… That had just happened. He had walked in on his partners… Well, having sex, to put it bluntly. Which was fine, he was fine with that, they were both adults who were allowed to do whatever they wanted. It had just caught him off guard, that’s all. He deposited the food on the countertop, and turned to lean against it, letting his eyes fall closed for a minute. 

There were hurried footsteps down the hall after him, shortly followed by Martin and Gerry appearing in the doorway. They’d both pulled underwear on, and Gerry was wearing a shirt which, judging by the size, was probably actually Martin’s. Both of them looked about as mortified as Jon felt. 

“Are you okay?” Was the first words out of Gerry’s mouth. Jon saw his hand move, as if to touch Jon’s arm in that way he did so often when he knew Jon was upset, but he hesitated before pulling back. 

“What? Yes, yes of course I’m okay, why wouldn’t I be?” and Jon was aware that, for a man desperately trying to convince himself that he was not panicking, it kind of sounded like he was panicking. 

“Well, you’re answering questions like that for starters,” Martin replied, and his voice was the right amount of calming and reasonable that he knew Jon needed right now. “Breath, love.”

Jon took the advice. In. Out. Look up to meet Martin’s eyes. “Yes, I’m- I’m fine. I’m sorry I reacted so… Adversely, I wasn’t expecting, well, that.” 

“Do not start apologising over this. You did nothing wrong, we know this is a boundary for you, and we’re sorry we crossed that.”

Jon took a second before responding. “No, it’s… You two shouldn’t have to apologise either. You thought I wouldn’t be home for another four hours, I can’t fault you for wanting to, to have a good time in your own home. I can’t expect you to refrain from something you enjoy just because it makes me uncomfortable, especially when you didn’t expect me to be home.” 

“You okay for a hug?” Gerry asked, leaning forward against the doorframe.

Jon wrinkled his nose slightly. “Maybe after a shower?” They all laughed at that, and Jon could feel the tension finally break between them. Then he coughed slightly to clear his throat. “Right, well, do you two want to go- Uhm… Finish up?” 

“No offence, but I feel like the mood has been well and truly broken,” Martin said, “I think we should probably just take your advice on that shower,” he linked his hand with Gerry’s, and began to pull him away towards the bathroom.

“I’ll get the lunch ready,” Jon said, smiling through it as he began to take out plates. 

~~~ 

Ten minutes later and all three of them were seated around the table, portioning out various containers of food. 

“So is this a regular occurrence?” Jon asked, when they were all comfortably settled. Gerry nearly choked on his drink. 

“Excuse me?” 

“You heard me. I’m never home on Friday’s. Is this when the…” Jon trailed off, pausing to laugh at his own phrasing before he’d even got it out, “When the magic happens, so to speak?” 

Gerry let out a groan, and Martin’s face was buried in his hands, and knowing him, extremely flushed. “I mean not- Not every Friday,” he managed to mumble. 

“But the majority of them?” 

“... Yeah,” Gerry admitted. 

Jon smirked. Now that nothing was directly going on, he was substantially more comfortable about teasing his partners than he was twenty minutes ago. “And what was the thought process behind that?” 

“Well, we know you don’t like sex. Obviously. And we do. So we compared all of our schedules-” 

“He made a spreadsheet,” Gerry interrupted, “A sex spreadsheet. Can you believe him. This is who we’re dating.” 

“And we’re very lucky to have him,” Jon said, grabbing Martin’s hand from across the table and pressing a kiss to it.

“As I was saying,” Martin said, blush returning with the kiss, “We compared the schedules and Friday was the only time you weren’t home when Gerry and I were… So… Fridays.” 

Jon laughed. “As adorably nerdy as that is… Why did you feel the need to do that?” 

“Well not all of us are ace,” Gerry started, “And our boyfriend is particularly handsome so-” 

“Yes, yes, no, I get that bit,” Jon interrupted, waving his hand to stop Gerry from elaborating any further. “I just meant.. Why all the cloak and dagger?” 

“Well, we didn’t want to make you uncomfortable,” Martin said with enough earnesty that it made Jon’s heart ache slightly. 

“So you didn’t want me to be around for it?” 

“It’s more that we thought you wouldn’t want to be around for it,” Gerry said. 

“Oh, that’s…” Jon was a little stunned. He wasn’t quite sure how to handle that. To know that his two favourite people that he loved so much, cared about him to the extent where they would schedule that kind of thing around his own comfort. “How long have you been doing this?” 

“... As long as we’ve lived together?” Martin admitted, voice trailing up at the end. 

A year. They’d been conducting this elaborate plan for a year and he hadn’t noticed. All to make sure he was comfortable. Jon felt himself tearing up slightly. “That’s… That’s very… Thank you. Thank you. But really, there’s no need for that, it’s fine, I promise.” 

“What do you mean?” Gerry asked, eyebrow furrowing. 

“You were pretty firm that you really wanted no part in that kind of thing,” Martin said. 

“I don’t!” Jon said, raising both palms, “That’s- No, that bit hasn’t changed, and I doubt it ever will. I just meant… I don’t really mind, if you two want to have some time together while I’m here?” The two looked slightly shocked, and he hastily continued, “I don’t want to be involved, or anything, I just meant you shouldn’t feel like you have to hide that from me?” 

He let out a sigh. “I love you both very, very much. And I’m so grateful that you care enough about my boundaries that you would go to sheerly ridiculously lengths like that for me. But I don’t need to be shielded from it. My reaction earlier was mostly out of surprise. If in future you were to just… Tell me when, I would happily make myself at home in the living room with a book, or go for a walk or something. I don’t want you to feel like I’m something you have to accommodate.” 

Gerry reached a hand across the table and took one of Jon’s. Martin followed suit, gently tracing circles across his knuckles. “Are you sure?” he asked, concern evident in his voice.

“I think you can trust me to make my own decision on this one. I will always tell you when something is wrong, or makes me uncomfortable, or unhappy. This isn’t one of them. I want both of you to be happy as I am in this relationship and that means not having to literally check your calendar to see if you’re allowed to have sex.” 

Gerry leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. “Your right. We should’ve trusted you enough to tell you. At first it was a little… We didn’t want to freak you out or anything, and then after a while it just didn’t seem like a big deal? We probably should’ve tried to communicate better rather than just deciding we knew better.”

“It came from a place of love,” Jon said, returning the kiss by pressing one to his forehead, and then Martin’s in turn. “But I agree. More communication in future sounds good.” 

“And we’ll buy you some noise cancelling headphones,” Gerry smiled.

“Christ, really?” 

“That one was a joke.” 

“Oh thank god.”

#My Post #Jongerrymartin #My Writing #The Magnus Archives #Jonmartin #Jongerry #Gerard Keay #Jonathan Sims #Martin Blackwood

[not-all-dead]

"It’s not a surprise when the Chief of Police comes out. There have been betting pools for years, and the announcement is met with mostly indifference. What is a surprise, however, is the interview that comes out alongside the announcement. The interview that is complete with a photoshoot of Lin Beifong in civilian clothes, talking about the challenges of her position. No one can remember the last time the Chief has given an interview, and the photo becomes the talk of the town."

How do you think the interview goes? What would Lin say?

link to (what i believe was) the original post of this! with some amazing art that VERY much helped me write this :DD (by @mgthejerkbender)

i was originally just gonna write a dialogue or notes for this but uh- i got a little carried away so here’s a 3687 word fic of the interview oops

CW: implications of past trauma (mentions of r@pe/s*xual assa*lt, public humiliation, not graphic at all), homophobia, sexism

fic under the cut :)

Lin walked into the room in a soft green turtleneck and dark brown pants that almost looked black without the light. There was sound equipment set up all over the place, with two armchairs in the middle of it all. A desk sat over to the side, a typewriter and paper sitting atop it. Quite a few people were rushing around, making sure that everything was in place for the broadcast. She watched a young woman sit at the desk, prepping the typewriter to transcribe the entire thing.

“Oh good, you’re here,” Lin turned to see a man in his early forties standing with a small journal behind her.

He wore a plain suit with a pale orange tie, his greying hair slicked back neatly. His eyes flitted around the room, checking things briefly for himself before focusing on Lin. He opened the notebook to a page about a quarter of the way through and smiled at Lin, nodding at the chairs behind her.

“Care to sit?” he asked, moving toward the chairs.

She took the seat farthest from where they’d just been standing, shifting to get comfortable while she waited for him to sit and get things rolling. She didn’t want to admit it, but her heart was racing. She hadn’t done anything like this is ages, especially not so casually. The topic of discussion also made her nervous, both because her job was something she rarely spoke of with anyone outside a professional context, and because of the announcement that would come with the interview. She’d encountered plenty of bigoted people in the past, and had no doubt that her officially coming out would only press them to question her position more than usual.

She picked idly at the fuzzballs on her turtleneck until the man sitting beside her cleared his throat. Her head snapped up to look at him, her body tensing briefly before seeing that he was testing the microphones. She sighed and relaxed slightly, speaking into the microphone placed before her when the sound technician prompted her to do so. Once everything seemed to be in place and ready to go, the broadcast started.

“Welcome, listeners, to tonight’s special program. I’m your host, Kaja Posicopolis, here with our esteemed Chief of Police, Lin Beifong. So, Chief, how are you on this fine night?” he started, putting on his radio voice.

“Good, I’m good,” Lin responded, leaning slightly forwards in her seat.

“That’s good to hear. I think I’ll launch right into our questions if you don’t mind, we’ve got a lot to get through tonight,” Lin nodded when he looked over to her, giving him the go ahead.

“Why don’t we start with something positive. What’s your favourite thing about your position as Chief? What about the job brings you the most joy?” he turned to watch her while waiting for her answer.

She looked at the floor for a moment, thinking before speaking.

“I think I’d have to say getting to help people. Ever since I was young I’ve wanted to protect others as much as possible, and being Chief makes that a lot easier and a lot more… legal,” he joined her when she chuckled lightly, but her smile only lasted a moment.

“Of course, I’m not perfect, and there are always times when things go wrong. I can’t say that those times don’t affect me, but I try to think of the people we as a force have helped over the years and that keeps me going,” she took a deep breath and looked to Kaja as he glanced at his notepad.

“That leads right into my next question; how do you do it? Not even your infamous mother was Chief for as long as you’ve been, and her time was already impressive. You’ve given so much to Republic City already, why, and how, do you keep giving?” there was a look of wonder and admiration on his face when he finished the question.

“I grew up in Republic City. It always has been, and will be, my home. And who doesn’t want to protect their home? I think that as long as I live here, I’ll be working to do anything in my power to help the city. I hate watching neighborhoods suffer… actually, I’m working on a plan with President Moon at the moment with the hopes of helping out the poorer parts of the city, providing homes for the homeless, all that good stuff. I just want to see Republic City thriving, and I want to help it get to that point. As I said before, it’s my home; everyone here is part of a community, a family, if you will, and that means everything to me,” Lin leaned back, resting against the cushion behind her, setting her right foot on her left knee.

“That’s a beautiful sentiment, thank you. I love the idea of the city being one big family, and that project sounds like it’ll be very good for the future of Republic City,” Kaja turned his gaze back to his notes, stopping the conversation briefly.

“The next question I have here is less uppity; what has your biggest struggle been with regards to your job?”

“That’s a hard one,” she paused. “I’ve had many struggles with work over my years as Chief, but I think of everything that’s happened… being a woman, and a queer one at that, has definetly taken it’s toll. Other things have been more directly challenging, but that’s been present since day one.”

“Would you care to elaborate on that?” he prompted leaning slightly towards her.

She inhaled and held her breath for a split second before sighing lightly.

“Sure, why not,” she gave a small smile to Kaja before starting.

“When I was much younger, just starting out in the force, I could already see the inherent bias against women that so many male officers held. My mother wasn’t immune to their verbal attacks, though she would give them a good… sparring match, lets say, if they ever so much as laid a finger on her. After a few times, that generally stopped happening, but people would still talk. The number of disgusting, awful things I heard coming from some of those men…” she huffed and shifted in her seat, putting one elbow on her armrest and resting her head on her hand.

“Anyway, I started to pay attention to every little thing. I noticed how many male politicians talked down to my mother, and not because of her blindness. Even a few of the men on our own council at the time would treat her as less-than for no apparent reason.

“I saw it happening in my own life and career, too. How my male counterparts got the promotion before I was even considered, despite performing just as well as them, if not better. How I was never asked for input on supposedly collective decisions or plans, and if I was or tried to interject, I was almost always dismissed. It seemed like any man of higher or equal rank to me thought I was some… assistant to bring him coffee and reports and not do any actual work.

“Seeing that attitude so often pissed me off. I made it my mission to prove myself beyond what was necessary. I wanted to show them that I could do anything they could just as well, sometimes even better. My work paid off eventually and I began to climb the ranks, not letting myself rest for a second. And I wanted to help people as well, of course, but it started out more as wanting to teach those bastards a lesson,” she moved again, uncrossing her legs and leaning forward on her elbows.

“Once I became Chief, a lot of people seemed determined to put me down. Practically every man, be he politician or merchant on the street, told me something insinuating that I was handed the position just because my mother was Chief before me. Every time I wanted to yell at them, to show them records of how hard I’d worked to get there, how much harder I’d had to work than most of my colleagues. With the politicians and other major figureheads, how much harder I’d had to work than they probably had.

“It was frustrating, but I got used to it. It was a constant that came with working a so-called, and I’m not making this up, it’s been said directly to my face before, ‘Man’s job’,” she stopped for a moment and looked over at Kaja, who was staring at her in disbelief.

She couldn’t help but let out a small laugh at his expression before looking back down and continuing.

“There was also the issue of my queerness,” she shook her head and took a deep breath, sitting back as she continued.

“I started working as a proper officer when I was about eighteen. Within my first year working, I was-,” she closed her eyes and clenched her teeth for a second.

“I had an encounter with a man, an older officer who was overseeing the training group I was a part of. He tried to initiate certain… activities with me, none of which I wanted to partake in. I did manage to get rid of him and filed a report against him, but it wasn’t the last time it happened.

“I was a pretty regular customer at a few of the underground bars for people like me at the time. I did my best to hide my face when I left, but there were always times I was careless, or somebody saw me in the seconds I let my guard down. Usually it was no big deal, but occasionally it was someone from work. Once, it was that man.

“He found me at work the next day and asked me about it. Yelled at me, really. He tried to make it seem like that’s why I’d denied him, and the names he called me weren’t pretty to say the least. He started to physically attack me, throwing punch after punch and not giving me the slightest chance to fight back.

“After that day, I stopped going to those bars altogether. The first time I went back to one was actually just a few years ago. I started dating Tenzin a few years later, and though people weren’t so outwardly expressive of their opinions on my relationships, the disapproval was still present.

“By the time Tenzin and I split up, I think some people still suspected my queerness, but it wasn’t a widely adopted theory. I had my fair share of men approach me, some with better intentions than others, and turned down most of them. Some of them didn’t react all that well, and I ended up filing several more reports. I don’t think any of them actually got charged, though.

“I entertained short romances with some men, some women too. Nothing stuck, not really anyway. I kept every relationship very quiet, including those with men, just for the sake of privacy. When I was with women, it was also to avoid getting hate-crimed, but I really did prefer to keep at least some things private.

“In the context of work, there were also challenges. That first superior to try getting at me like that must’ve talked, telling anyone who would listen about my excursions to the underground bars. People looked at me oddly in just about any shared workspace there was, though a few times I made friends because of it. Those were always good times, even if few and far between.

“Some people just gave a judgemental stare or vaguely rude comment every so often, but a few others took it further. Much further,” she looked up to the ceiling as she recalled another story.

“I had a supervisor when I was probably about, oh, twenty seven or so. He was a few ranks below my mother, and I one below him. He decided that one day it would be absolutely hysterical to cover my desk in obscene printed images of women I didn’t recognize, along with toys of a certain nature. I was mortified when I came in and saw the spectacle. The worst part was that almost everyone working in that part of the building at the time laughed with him, and those who didn’t weren’t exactly helpful.

“I didn’t come back to work for a week after that. It was awful, his stupid prank making me so shamed of who I was, who I loved. I know now that my loving both women and men isn’t a bad thing, and is simply part of me. It was harder to accept that, to accept myself, when I saw people like him in positions of power over me.

“I kept working though, and there was never an incident quite like that one again. A few others were more directly hateful than most, but it was easier to deal with. As with people treating me as less because of my gender, I got used to it,” she turned to Kaja, a hint of guilt on her face after talking for so long.

He shook his head, disbelief still spread across his face. His eyes flitted back and forth between floor tiles as he searched for the right words to respond.

“That sounds awful. I’m so sorry you had to deal with people like that,” he looked back up at Lin.

“So am I,” she scoffed, her fingers picking at her turtleneck again.

There was a small silence before Kaja looked back down at his notepad and then at the clock on the wall.

“We’ve got enough time for one last question, so is there anything you’d like to tell young women and queer people living in the city?” His expression was almost hopeful now, desperate to end off on a lighter note.

Lin smiled in amusement at him before looking down at her hands, fiddling her thumbs in her lap. After a moment, she looked back up at him and started speaking again.

“Absolutely,” she began, her gaze drifting around the room and landing on each individual at least once.

“To all the women working your asses off in the workforce: stand up for yourself. Don’t let any man devalue you because of your gender. Be the best you can be and wipe the smiles clean off their faces as you do it. Start your own businesses, get that promotion, set goals for yourself and fly past them. You can do just about anything you put your mind to, despite what many men might say,” her voice was strong, almost commanding as she began her final statement.

“And to all the young queer people out there; you are so, so strong. Keep loving each other, keep being yourselves. I know how awful people can be, but their opinions do not define you. You are perfect exactly as you are, and nothing can change that. It might seem like it’ll never be true, but I believe we will live in a time when acceptance is the norm. I believe that that time, with hard work and patience with those who need teaching, will be here soon.”

“Perfect. Thank you so much for your time, Chief,” Kaja said, looking at the clock again.

“Thank you for having me,” Lin replied, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath.

“And with that, folks, we wrap up today’s special broadcast. I’ll be back in the studio tomorrow resuming our usual radio program. Until then, I’m Kaja Posicopolis, and this is eighty six point four, your favourite music station,” Kaja finished, staying silent for a few seconds until a man from across the room nodded at him.

He rolled his head around and got up from his chair, setting his notepad down behind him.

“How are you now?” he asked Lin as he stretched his arms out and cracked his back.

Lin scoffed and stood, going through a couple of her own stretches. She straightened her shirt and tucked a few stray hairs back before responding.

“I feel like I just stood naked in front of the entire city,” she said, unable to hold back a small smile when Kaja laughed.

“Well, we’re about to expose you even more. You ready for the photo shoot?” he grabbed his notebook and pen and closed them, watching Lin for an answer.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Lin sighed before following him out of the room.

They walked down several long hallways, eventually coming to a large open room. The walls and floor were a pale grey cement, and there were expensive looking lights set up all over the place. A dark green upholstered bench sat to one side of the room, a tall light shining down on it. A few people saw them coming in and rushed around, turning off almost every other light. One of them knocked on a door that was on the other end of the room, calling for someone inside.

“This seems a bit excessive,” Lin muttered, her eyes wandering the room.

“Only the best for you, Chief,” a man said from somewhere in the shadows.

Lin glanced behind her only to see Kaja talking to someone near the door. When she turned back to where the voice had come from, she had to bite back a laugh. She tried not to, but couldn’t help smiling at the absolute glow that radiated from the man in front of her.

“You like my outfit?” he asked with a grin, twirling around for her.

He had on bright red fit-and-flare pants with a stripe of gold sequins down their side; a matching red low-cut tank top; a purple feather-covered knee-length jacket; gold sparkly platform shoes that made him tower over Lin more than he already would have; and a top hat that belonged with a businessman’s black tie attire.

“It’s incredible,” Lin chuckled, crossing her arms casually over her chest.

“You look sharp yourself today, Chief,” he said with a grin, taking a few steps towards her.

Before she could object, he pulled her into a tight hug. His arms squashed her face against his lower chest, making Lin painfully aware of the extent of their height difference. She laughed and patted his arm, thankfully getting him to release her.

“I’m assuming you’re the photographer, then?” she asked, grinning up at him.

He nodded enthusiastically and spun on his heel, walking back into the darkness. She heard a couple of small crashes and a string of profanities before he came back, a large camera and it’s stand filling his arms.

“Uh- where am I going?” he asked Lin, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye.

She let out a small laugh and stepped towards him, placing her hand on his arm. She guided him towards the bench setup, stopping them near where the light stood.

“Thank you, thank you!” he exclaimed, setting down the camera’s stand first and then fastening the camera to it.

“Of course,” Lin breathed, suddenly nervous to have her photo taken.

The photographer immediately noticed her mood change and put his hands on her shoulders.

“Don’t worry, I’ll make you look,” he closed his eyes and blew a chef's kiss to the side.

Lin nodded and took a deep breath, filling her lungs as much as she could before letting it all out. The photographer made a few adjustments to the camera stand, making sure it would stay while he got her in position, and then led her to the bench. He sat her down in the middle of it and walked back to his camera, dragging the stand loudly over so he was more to her right.

“Don’t be so stiff,” he called, looking at her through the viewfinder and flapping his hand in the air.

“Just- pretend I’m not here, you’re just sitting at home listening to the radio.”

He stepped back from the camera and watched Lin as she settled her head on her left fist with her right elbow on her knee. The photographer gave her a big thumbs up, calling “Much better!” and going back to looking through his camera.

He shifted it a few times before taking any photos, wanting to get it right in as few shots as possible considering the price and rarity of film in stores. Lin looked at the camera for the first few, looking away because of her boredom growing steadily. When he seemed satisfied with the shots, he took the camera off the stand and walked over to the bench.

“Room for another?” he asked, not letting Lin answer before settling himself beside her.

The images printed slowly, one at a time. After each was out, he placed them in the shadow under the bench to protect them from overexposure. Once the last one printed, he reached down and grabbed the first. It had settled well, the colours coming out nice and bright.

“It’s perfect,” Lin gasped, staring in wonder at the photo that managed to make her alright with how she looked out-of-uniform.

The photographer grinned at her, holding the photo up.

“I agree,” he said proudly, forgetting his other photos and standing.

Lin watched as he brought the photo to Kaja, engaging the shorter man in a quick and lively discussion before handing off the photo and walking back. He grinned ear to ear at her, and she sighed before relenting and giving a small smile back.

“Nervous, Chief?” he asked, standing before her with his hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket.

Lin chuckled and shook her head.

“I just haven’t done something like this in ages… or ever, really,” she said, her hands moving to grip the edge of the bench.

“Hey,” the photographer moved to place a hand on her shoulder, prompting her to look up at him.

“You’re doing great, Chief, trust me,” Lin let out a breath and really smiled at him this time.

“Thank you,” she said quietly, meaning it with every ounce of her being.

#lin beifong #chief beifong #legend of korra #fanart #tlok lin #avatar: tlok #tlok #tlok fanart #tlok fanfic #tlokart #lok fanart #lok lin #lok #lin beifong fanfic #fan fiction #fan fic stuff #fanfic #lin fanfic #fanart for fanfic #fanfic for fanart #tlok ocs #tlok oc #oc #ocs #lin fucking beifong #wow i write too much :0 #avatar the legend of korra #avatar: the legend of korra #the legend of korra

[onceuponamirror]

ghosts

Faintly, Nancy can hear the waves crashing into the shoreline down the road. A buoy rings against the water. She takes a breath. “So…you don’t regret not leaving?”

“Do you?” He counters, as if knowing she wasn’t just talking about him anymore.

[set between 2x05-2x06] [read on ao3!]

“What’re you thinking about?”

Nancy turns to look over her shoulder, surprised to see Ace standing there, hands in the pockets of his puffer. He has a smile emerging from the corner of his mouth, which broadens slightly after a moment. “You look super serious. Am I interrupting something heavy?”

“What? No,” she says, clearing her thoughts, and echoes his grin. “I just thinking about…ghosts.”

“Ghosts,” Ace repeats, and drops into the seat beside her. She’s sitting on the table, whereas he’s planted on the bench, and yet they’re still at eye-level.

She blows out a breath and shakes her head slightly. “Yeah, ghosts. With everything happening so fast last month, I feel like…I didn’t fully process…” She pauses, and waves her hands for exaggeration, “Ghosts. They’re real.”

He furrows his brow, as if waiting for her to continue, or to finish her thought.

Nancy falls back on her palms, glancing up briefly at the darkened sky. “It’s just—I’m supposed to be this…Hero of Horseshoe Bay, or whatever they want to call me in the papers. I don’t really care about that but—solving mysteries is the only thing I’ve been good at, and…”

Ace passes her a slightly mischievous smile. “Is this about me coming for your title? I’m a ‘Hero’ too.”

She rolls her eyes and bumps his shoulder with her own. “No, it’s…I make logical leaps. That’s all it is. How can you make logical leaps with supernatural stuff?”

“Ah,” Ace says.

“If ghosts are real, what else is? And what won’t I be able to solve because I didn’t think to consider…Bigfoot, or something? I don’t know if I’ll be any good at this when the rules of physics don’t apply.”

“Nancy,” Ace says slowly, “all due respect, but that’s super dumb. You’ve already solved like, three ghosts mysteries by now.” She opens her mouth with mock offense, but he just grins at her, and she’s unable to stop herself from matching it again. “You’re good at this. Dead or undead. Besides—people always say stuff about physics as if it just relates to gravity. It’s a lot more flexible than that.”

She cocks her neck. “What do you mean?”

Ace shrugs. “Like, I went down a Wikipedia rabbit hole one night. A lot of physics is about theorizing about other dimensions and energy, and matter. Like—there’s that rule, that matter can neither be created nor destroyed. I think it’s mostly about decay or whatever, like how when we die we go back to the ground, but maybe there’s another part, like with our soul, that sticks around. Who’s to say that doesn’t encompass ghosts?”

Nancy just stares at him, dumbfounded. When she first met Ace, he’d struck her as a quiet slacker; another fellow high school burnout. It’s almost upsetting how much she’d misjudged him. “How the hell do you know that?”

As if slightly embarrassed, Ace ducks his face down, but she can still see his smile. He shrugs again. “Like I said, I love a good Wikipedia black hole. Which, coincidentally, has a great article on black holes.” They meet each other’s eyes, and Nancy feels something sputter against her chest, suddenly deeply aware of their proximity. She wonders if he feels it too, because he clears his throat. “Anyway, I don’t sleep super well. So it gives me a lot of time to collect increasingly random knowledge.” He taps his temple. “It’s a steel trap of trivia.”

She raises her eyebrows, still taking him in. He never seems to stop surprising her. “How did we not know each other in high school? You would’ve been super helpful on some of my earlier cases, you know.”

“I thought you worked alone then,” he says, somewhat teasingly, but like he’s avoiding her question. After a moment, he sighs. “I knew you, you just didn’t know me. We actually had art together, I think.”

“No way,” she says at once, before she can think on it. “I would’ve noticed you.”

It’s his turn for his eyebrows to jump on his forehead. Her neck flushes hotly, but mercifully, he looks away from her. “Nah. I was barely there. I was kind of a big stoner in high school.”

“I’m shocked,” she says dully, and he laughs. At the sound, her chest tightens again.

“I know. It really plays against type,” he counters, smirking.

She laughs, and a silence falls over them gently. She’s still surprised they had a class together and she didn’t even know him—even if they didn’t run in the same circles, he was still Ace. If she wracks her brain, she has a vague memory of a skinny kid in a backwards baseball cap and an oversized plaid shirt, but it’s hard to reckon that with the long-haired, soft-eyed, much more muscled boy who sits beside her.

When her thoughts finally return to the present, she finds him watching her. She turns slowly to face him, breath catching against her chest. Her eyes dart down to his mouth, and he does the same. Anxiously, she pushes her hair behind her ears, unwilling to let this moment last. This is Ace. Get it together.

“What?” He asks, his tone something low and velvety.

She laces her fingers together and tips her chin up, wistfully watching a faint star. “What are you still doing here?” She asks, and he meets her eye again, confused this time. “I mean, you’re smart. You never wanted to get out of Horseshoe Bay? Go to college?”

Ace leans back on his elbows. “Nah,” he says, but something in his voice betrays his attempt at casualness. “I didn’t have the grades, even if I wanted to.” Nancy purses her lips, not sure she believes him. He shifts uncomfortably, like he can tell. “Pothead,” he adds, impishly. “I took a couple of classes at the community college, but…I dunno, I got bored. I’ve had pretty much every job in town, at this point. Never really held anything down, ‘til now.”

“Yeah?” She asks, breathily.

“Worked on a lobster fishing boat for a summer. That was really hard,” he supplies, and Nancy wonders if that was the cause of his transformation from skinny kid in art class to the surprisingly toned boy beside her. “Worked at the video store, until they went out of business. Worked at the library for a bit. That didn’t work out, for obvious reasons.”

“Obviously,” she echoes, grinning at him. He rolls his eyes playfully.

“Last year I even worked at the yacht club,” he adds, glancing away from her. “That’s where I met Laura Tandy.”

At the mention of his ex, Nancy straightens. She tries not to put too much thought into the strange reaction her body has, deciding instead to dig at the larger thought that still nags. “Do you ever wish you’d gone with her? To Paris, I mean. Had adventures…left Maine?”

“Nance, I’m pretty sure adventure isn’t geography-specific at this point,” he sighs, throwing her a knowing look. There’s a slight thrill at him calling her ‘Nance’, and she tries to push it down. “But no,” he sighs. “My dad…I still think he needs me. He keeps trying to go back to work, as if he doesn’t remember why he left in the first place. Someone has to remind him.”

A soft hum escapes from the back of her throat. Privately, she thinks there’s something loaded there, something buried. A lie to himself, maybe. From her observation, Ace and his father are very much alike, but she doesn’t think he’d want to hear that.

Faintly, Nancy can hear the waves crashing into the shoreline down the road. A buoy rings against the water. She takes a breath. “So…you don’t regret not leaving?”

“Do you?” He counters, as if knowing she wasn’t just talking about him anymore. She levels him with a warning look, but he doesn’t back down, just piques an eyebrow.

“I don’t know,” she says, honestly. “Right now, no.” She bumps him with her shoulder again. “Look at us. A couple of townie burnouts.”

He grins. “Somebody’s gotta do it.”

Another blanket of silence settles between them, but gentle this time. Again, the waves lap against the shore.

“I still can’t believe I didn’t know you,” she says quietly, perhaps not meaning to say it aloud. Somewhere along the way, he became such a fixture. But she supposes that goes for all of her friends—she was so different in high school. She’s not sure she’s someone she would’ve liked now. She realizes Ace is looking at her again. “I just mean, it’s such a small town. Like, I don’t even know your last name,” she adds.

He still hasn’t budged, soft smile and all. “Oh, it’s—”

“Yo! Lazy Drew! Are we gonna Boggle or what?” George’s voice floats across The Claw’s back deck, and they both turn around to see her at the back exit, her hands on her hips, lit warmly from behind. “Ace, you said you were gonna go get her and come right back.”

“My bad,” he says, getting to his feet. He offers her his hand down, even though it’s barely a jump to the ground. She takes it anyway, but it hits her with a shock of static so strong that she drops it like a hot potato. His eyes are anywhere but on her.

“Game night waits for no man,” George says drolly, holding the door open for them.

“Fine, fine,” she mutters, passing through the doorway. She spins around and points at George. “Tonight, we Boggle, but tomorrow—trivia night. Teams.”

“I’m game,” Ace pips up, as George only rolls her eyes and nods as she struts past them, towards the booth where Bess and Nick wait.

“Tomorrow, you’re on my team, Mr. Steel Trap,” Nancy whispers to him, leaning in conspiratorially. His body heat warms against her skin, even through her light sweater.

His smile is soft. “Any time.”

#nace #nancy drew #ace [hardy] #nancy drew cw #drabbles #fics #i am emo for these two #pls validate me and leave me a review #i forgot how thirsty i am for them #ty

[soulmate-game]

Continuation of the story from Day 1, because you guys requested it enough that I started Thinking, lol.

Bio Dad Bruce Wayne Month 2020

Day 3: Siblings

—*—*—*—*—*

Dinner. One day after meeting her father for the first time. She had managed to postpone any sort of… socialization and emotional bonding, during their meeting earlier for everyone to choose from Marinette’s initial sketches for them and generally consult some more, by once again steamrolling everyone with Professionalism and Business Marinette.

But no longer. She couldn’t escape. Staring at a giant wooden, elaborate door like it was her pathway to Prison—

“Stop dramatizing everything in your head, Mari,” Adrien fondly scolded, gently rapping the side of her skull with one knuckle. “I got things to do, for your company I might add, so I can’t stay. But, you’ll be fine,” he leaned in, smirking at her and winking as he lowered his voice. “Besides, you’ve been through way worse than a little family reunion, Bugaboo. You’ve faced down way scarier people than the Waynes. You got this,” he encouraged before giving her a solid clap on the shoulder and a chaste kiss on the cheek, walking back towards their sleek but understated dark red car. Rented, of course, for the business trip, but nonetheless very nice.

Adrien had driver’s licenses for just about every major country. Marinette stopped questioning it a while ago.

She waited until he was gone before throwing her hands up. “Scarier people, he says. Like the Bat clan isn’t known for being some of the most intimidating heroes and vigilantes in the spotlight,” she grumbled. When she turned around, it was to the door already being open, and she jumped a bit in surprise. She hadn’t heard anyone answer the door, but sure enough Alfred Pennyworth stood there holding the door with a small smile, with Bruce Wayne and all of Marinette’s siblings gathered behind him. At least this time, nobody had their spouses or children. Every one of them was smirking, some more sharply than others (Damian).

“Would you like to come in, Miss Dupain-Cheng?” Alfred asked, waving his hand to gesture to the fact that there was plenty of room for her to enter. Blushing, she did just that, taking a breath and forcing herself to actually look at the family she had just met instead of down at her glossy navy blue pumps. Jason, the man with the white fringe in his hair. Second Robin, current Red Hood, her mind supplied, spoke up with a grin and his arms crossed over his chest.

“You don’t look so suave anymore, little Queenie,” he teased. Marinette instantly made a face, screwing up her nose.

“No. That nickname is vetoed. One of my friend’s nicknames is Queenie, and not only will she never let me live it down if she finds out someone called me that, but, just no,” Marinette dramatically shivered. “Most of my friends call me Princess nowadays anyway,” she shrugged. “Adrien started it, and it somehow caught on. It’s too much work to protest at this point.”

“You’re not good with crowds,” the soft spoken woman, Cassandra, decided to add. Marinette winced, shifting on her feet even as she followed the group to the dining room.

“Ehhh. I’ve gotten used to dealing with press and stuff, to a certain degree anyway considering my alias. And wearing my Business persona always helps in consultations. But, I’m not…” Marinette bit the inside of her cheek, clearly a little uncomfortable as she looked around. “The best at… actually talking to people outside of my small group of friends.”

Bruce sighed as most of his kids chuckled or snorted at that. Dick, the oldest but second-shortest of the men besides Tim, came over and draped an arm familiarly over Marinette’s shoulders. He still towered over her though, so he had to slouch a bit to do so.

“Ah, that would be the genetics. Let’s hope you stay where you are at instead of getting as bad at communication as B,” he told her cheerfully. She raised an eyebrow at him.

“What about Damian?”

“He’s even worse!”

“Tt,” said teenager tutted, rolling his eyes as they entered the dining room and he was able to come up to Marinette’s other side. “That was mostly how I was raised before I met Father. I have gotten a lot better than I used to be, Grayson.”

Dick gave him a smile, graciously relieving Marinette of the close contact in favor of rustling Damian’s hair despite the fact that the younger Wayne was taller than him already. “Yes, you sure have! But you still need improvement, baby bird.”

Soon enough, everyone managed to get seated around the large dining table. Bruce insisted that Marinette take one of the seats next to him at the head of the table, across from Damian, since this was her first family dinner. Dick sat next to her, Jason across from him, followed by Tim and Duke on Damian’s side of the table. On the other side of Dick sat Cassandra, and then Stephanie. Alfred served everyone before also taking a seat at the table, on the opposite end from Bruce.

And, true to BatFam tradition, everything was a little awkward for the first minute or two. Marinette didn’t know what to say, and nobody quite knew where to begin. Dick would normally start a conversation, but he was trying to glare into Bruce’s head a silent message of “talk to her, damn it.”

Finally seeming to get it, Bruce cleared his throat and turned to Marinette. “So, I wanted to ask. When do you find out about being my daughter?”

Several people around the table closed their eyes in mourning for Bruce’s social skills. Marinette though, just smiled in slight relief at the decision of how to start talking being taken from her.

“Oh. It was in stages, really. When I was ten, we started our unit in school on genetics. I don’t usually care enough about science to do much more than the school requires, but genetics captivated me for some reason. I researched it almost obsessively at home for a while, almost instantly realizing that there had to be a reason that I had blue eyes when none of the rest of my family did. After a week or two, I found my Maman and Papan’s adoption papers in their room,” she blushed, tugging on one end of her bangs, which she had framing her face since she was wearing her hair down that day. “I uh… I’ve always been a little nosy. I never told them that I found the papers, to me it was just the answer I needed. I didn’t think about it at all after that, and my obsession over genetics went away. It wasn’t until I was thirteen that I decided to look into my birth parents,” Marinette sighed, shoving a bite of food in her mouth to buy her time before continuing. Everyone was focused on her, and it was a little unsettling. Every one of them had a sharper gaze than a normal person, and it made her feel like she was made of glass and everyone else could see right through her. “I was going through a lot, back then. I wanted someone to be mad at, I wanted to be able to blame my DNA for the things that had happened.”

“Things?” Bruce interrupted, back straight and eyebrows drawn down. “What things?” Marinette giggled, tilting her head instead of answering and just letting her eyes study him. Bruce Wayne, Batman, the Dark Knight. Original vigilante of Gotham city, one of the founding members of the Justice League. Famous for his secrecy, intimidating presence, and intelligence. Then she switched her gaze, one by one, to everyone else at the table before leaning back and taking a sip of her soda.

“Do you guys know anything about the situation Paris experienced for four years?” She asked, instead of directly answering. It was Tim who frowned, leaning forward to look at her and reply.

“I heard very vague rumors of weird things, but nothing concrete enough to investigate. What happened?”

Marinette hummed, deciding to sum it up for them. “The short version? When I was thirteen, a classmate of mine spontaneously turned into a giant rock monster and destroyed a good portion of the city. Turns out, that was the first of many attacks by our city’s very own supervillain, Hawkmoth. He had a magical artifact that allowed him to take advantage of anyone’s negative emotions to give them powers and brainwash them into being, essentially, temporary villains that he used for his own means. Two heroes showed up out of nowhere, powered by similar magical artifacts, to combat him and free the people he corrupted. Ladybug and Chat Noir, the original Parisian heroes and the leaders of the team that later had to form.”

Jason frowned, along with everyone else at the table. Finally, it was Duke who asked:

“How did we not know about villains in Paris?” To which Marinette just gave him a dangerously wicked smirk that was far too similar to Damian’s for anyone’s comfort.

“Because I do my job,” she told him flatly, sipping from her cup as everyone stared at her in various amounts of shock. “That’s why finding out that my biological father was Batman made so much sense. That’s why I wanted to find out who my birth parents were. I wanted to blame the heroism on genetics. And, it doesn’t look like I was exactly wrong.”

—*—*—*—*—*

Yeah, that was how her first family dinner and subsequent identity reveal went.

Luckily, considering that Bruce had hired MDC for a pretty long job, Marinette was able to finish school online instead of going back to Paris for it. There was no real need anyway, they had defeated Hawkmoth and gotten Adrien emancipated so for now it was calm in Paris. They didn’t need their heroes anymore, for the time being. This meant that Marinette and Adrien, along with a few employees that helped measure and cut fabric and do secretarial duties they needed help with, got to stay in Gotham while Marinette went back and forth to Wayne manor, Wayne Tower, and back to their temporary home.

After about a month, Marinette was comfortable enough with the Waynes that she found herself lounging in the bat cave as she sketched, though she kept raising her eyes to the glass tubes that held old uniforms. Damian was sat across from her, essentially laying out over two chairs while he played some game upside down on his phone. He might usually be a cold brat, even for a sixteen year old, but even he liked to abuse the way furniture should be used and ignore the world via technology.

But he still caught her constantly wandering gaze.

“You don’t like them.”

“They suck!” Marinette immediately agreed, slamming her sketchbook on the metal briefing table. “Your Robin outfit is the only passable one there is! The colors aren’t even the issue, even high fashion designers can appreciate a good color clash moment. But what was Father thinking?! Putting Grayson in that glorified onesie— why are there no pants?! Jason’s at least as a cape that can cocoon his body and prevent anyone from seeing the disaster beneath. I should thank Tim for at least upgrading the suit to having pants, but he still kept the outside-underwear look that I cannot forgive. The attempt at fashion, though, is appreciated. Disappointing, but appreciated.”

“That pretty much sums them all up,” Damian quipped, getting a snort of amusement out of his sister. Maybe that was one thing he had grown to like about her. She didn’t reprimand him for his sense of humor, and usually she even laughed along. The more morbid humor would get a playful shove and a glare, but no real animosity. And she understood him on a different level, too. One he appreciated even more.

“You said, yesterday, that the Cure brings back everyone who dies during a Miraculous-related incident,” Damian spoke up again after a moment, pointedly not looking at her. “Did you ever count?”

Marinette, this being one of the reasons he was quickly growing fond of her, immediately understood. She sighed, closing her notebook. She might have only been two years his elder, but she had had what felt like a lifetime of more experiences than he did, usually in the friendship and social department though. They were roughly equal in their heroism experience, which was weird to think about, but Damian still valued her input. It was different from the rest of the family.

“It was different in Paris than it would be for anyone else. I didn’t keep track of the number of people who died,” she finally answered, taking her hair out of its work bun and running her hands through the midnight black locks. “But I kept track of how often. Since nobody remembered their deaths, I guess I felt it was my responsibility to remember my failures for them. My former best friend, Alya. Over the course of those four years, she died seventeen times. Her boyfriend, Nino, died fourteen. The Mayor died three times. Chloe, my current friend and former bully, died twenty-two times,” she grimaced at Damian’s shocked expression, nodding grimly. “During those first two, maybe two and a half years, she was one of the primary Akuma targets. She was still either an active bully or in the beginning of trying to change for the better, so she caused a lot of negative emotions everywhere she went. Things got better once she matured a bit, though. Anyway, there’s this girl I used to babysit. Manon. She died five times before she was even ten years old,” Marinette shook her head, that look of age and exhaustion that Damian saw in every Wayne and every hero he had ever fought with seeping into her eyes. “My parents, they died thirty-seven times. They were constantly worried about me, and ran into danger on several occasions trying to find and keep me safe. But I could never tell them who I was. I physically could. I had the power to sit them down and say; Hey, I’m Ladybug. Stop running out and getting yourselves killed. But I never did. I valued my identity first. So I usually ended up seeing, in the middle of a fight, one or both of them squished under falling debris. Or drowned. Frozen solid. Burned alive,” she paused, taking a deep breath to steady herself. “So no. I don’t understand what it was like for you, to count bodies as you felled them. But hell, if it doesn’t feel like I should. Logic doesn’t mean much in the face of emotion, especially guilt. I know I didn’t kill the people I care about, but every single one of their deaths weighs on me like I was the one that caused it.”

Damian nodded, and they shared a few moments of peaceful, contemplative silence as they both ruminated on their less than pleasant memories without fear of being yelled at for what those memories contained.

“But, I do have a secret,” she admitted softly, attracting her brother’s emerald-eyed attention again. The normally cheerful woman was much more subdued even than before, sapphire irises self conscious and vulnerable, which was rare. She licked her lips, even more rare considering her love of her light pink lipstick, and moved off her chair so that she was, instead, sitting on the cold stone floor. Without hesitation, Damian joined her.

“Technically, it didn’t happen. It was a timeline that my friend, the one who I gave the snake Miraculous, essentially erased when he reversed time. But I remember it even though I shouldn’t. How could I forget?”

“You took a life,” Damian whispered, grimacing in empathy. “First time?”

“And the second, and the fifth,” she admitted. “Viperion had to try seven times before I stopped repeating it. But it was always the same person, back during our final battle. I killed Gabriel Agreste seven times. But nobody but me and Luca will ever remember.”

Damian and Marinette both knew it wasn’t the same as Damian’s childhood. They both knew that they would likely never fully understand one another’s trauma. Not the nuances of it. But they did understand the important parts, the broad strokes. Despite their vastly different lives, they understood the big parts that shaped one another.

That was why Damian took to her so quickly. If he had been younger and still bratty, naive, and angry at everything, then it would be a different story entirely. But he was matured, more willing to let himself feel sympathy. And that made the difference.

“You never forget the first person,” he remarked.

“No matter the age or timeline,” she agreed. “I saw how hard it was to stop. How sickeningly addictive it can be, but I hate what it makes me more than I like how it feels.”

“... me too,” Damian whispered. “Me too.”

—*—*—*—*—*

“Wooo!” Marinette cheered as she flew through the air, her hands latching onto Dick’s. There was no audience, but there didn’t need to be. Just the two of them, doing a routine that they’ve been working on during the few chances they had for the past several weeks. Marinette had never done trapeze before Dick helped her learn, but her time swinging through Paris streets helped tremendously alongside her general Gymnastics experience.

Marinette and Dick flipped through the air, swinging from bar to bar, Dick occasionally catching and tossing her again. They soared through the air, both curling through two flips before landing on their respective platforms with matching wide smiles. Marinette, chest heaving a bit since she was slightly out of shape (meaning that she wasn’t at all out of shape, only out of practice when it came to swinging through the air for any length of time. There’s a difference). She met Dick on the floor, who proceeded to ruffle her hair happily.

“That was awesome! Looks like you finally got the routine down,” he praised. She laughed, elbowing him.

“I bet I’m better on the balance beam,” she challenged, making Dick grin widely.

“Oh you are on!”

—*—*—*—*—*

“Ya ever died before?” Jason asked, making Marinette chuckle.

“Two-hundred and eighty-seven times.”

“You started as Ladybug at thirteen, right?”

“Yup. No training or mentor for the first year either.”

“Yeah, then that sounds about right. Wanna go break all the traffic laws?”

“Only if we take your bike.”

“Fuckin’ Duh. What else?”

—*—*—*—*—*

“You stalked Adrien?” Tim asked, smirking that insufferable smirk of his. Marinette groaned, flopping back onto the sofa.

“No! I didn’t mean it that way, anyway. I just took a lot of pictures and spied on him.”

“Yup. You’re Bruce’s kid,” he remarked, tapping away at his laptop. Marinette narrowed her eyes.

“You have noooo place to judge, Mister ‘Dick Grayson is the only person alive who can do four somersaults in the air!’ And ‘Yes, I‘ve known that you are batman since I was eight. Look at all these pictures I took when I— what was your terminology again?”

Tim rolled his eyes, but a grin was peeking through. “Yeah, yeah.”

—*—*—*—*—*

Four months later, and Marinette was staring down at all the garment bags she had painstakingly filled. Outfits for every single one of her new family members. It took a while, but they were ready for the Wayne Gala. Adrien slung am arm over her shoulder.

“You’ve outdone yourself again, Princess,” he praised, grinning at the array of coveted outfits they were about to transport. “But one teensy weeny, tiny little thing.”

“What is it, Chaton?”

Adrien grinned. “Do you have a dress for yourself? Bruce invited you, too, didn’t he?”

Marinette’s face drained of color, right as a knock sounded on the door. Adrien, seeing as Marinette was so far into Panic Mode that she could not be reached at the moment, went to open the door. A second later, plastic was all Marinette could see. Blinking, she raised her head.

It was Cass, holding out a pink garment bag with Marinette’s name on it.

“Thought you would forget,” was all the other woman offered as explanation. Marinette, after gaping for a moment, slowly took the bag from her. Cass smirked. “Present from WE.”

Marinette laughed.

“You guys are the best.”

—*—*—*—*—*

@momothefemur @ladybug-182 @starlightshield @trippingovermyfeet @greatcatblaze @sam-i-am-0222 @bluesimani @ruelukas22 @acoolspacegirl

#mlb x dc #ml x dc #maribat #b!dbwm2020 #bio dad bruce wayne #Day Three #platonic Brucinette #Platonic Daminette

[heresathreebee]

Old Stomping Ground

[Ava Starr X Female Reader]

Summary: One of the good things to come out of constant alien invasions are the abandoned ruins of New York, and you’re fixing to show Ava your favorite place. Previous Masterlist Next

Tag(s): 13+ | can be reader gender and race neutral reader but is written with woc readers in mind, no-snap au, post-Ant Man and the Wasp, Ava and reader on an adventure in post Avenger's New York, homelessness, alien trees and the power of community.

AN: no-snap au, post-Ant Man and the Wasp. No beta, we die like men. Just you and Ava having a short adventure.

You took three days off of work for this one. Packed two backpacks with food, water, clothes, and other supplies. Bedrolls and bug spray and hiking poles. Ava laughed at your enthusiasm but she seemed to vibrate with excitement right along with you. 

"Can you at least tell me where we're going," she pleaded. 

You ran through the end of the checklist for the third time, trying to be extra careful now that you wouldn't be hoofing it solo. You dodged the question expertly with a "it's not far and it's not dangerous so hush! Learn to enjoy the mystery, babe." 

Ava rolled her eyes playfully but stopped asking and let you finish. After that you ate a hearty breakfast and began your journey north by northwest. In the taxi, your girlfriend's eyes darted from building to building as you turned on every street and you mentally gave up on scolding her. She was too pragmatic to allow for that level of trust yet. 

You were surprised that it took her until you passed the ruins of the daycare you once attended that she whipped her head around to whisper, "is this… Leviathan alley?" 

You shush her but can't keep the excited grin from your face. "It's a bit more than just an alley." 

Once SHIELD was finished stripping for parts and gutting the cybernetically enhanced alien creature left behind in the Battle of New York, the rest was abandoned. The city's been planning to clean up and rebuild but there are scores in the earth where the leviathan crashed and crumbling, precarious buildings that need to be brought down first in the safest way possible. While the city’s been debating how to deal with the destruction, the poor and destitute had moved in and discovered the blood of the chitauri has some very interesting properties. 

"It's like it changes the property of concrete," you explained, climbing over rubble and reaching back to pull her up, "uhg– breaks it down into some kind of hyper fertilizer. There's this copse of trees growing where we think the stomach was and I think in its natural habitat, the creature was probably an omnivore of sorts and may have swallowed thousands of seeds–" 

"That's all very fascinating dear, could you please take this?" Ava shoves a canteen into your hands and cups your hands to bring it closer to your mouth. You've climbed for what feels like miles and hey, you are pretty parched. "Think we'd better rest and eat, maybe look for a safe place to set up camp and… oh, look over there!" 

Ava's sudden whisper makes you turn. It's green in that direction, though this 'alley' is shrouded in darkness due to the dome made from the spine and ribs of the leviathan, the sprigs seem to grow just fine, becoming taller as they moved farther away from you until they began to develop woody stalks and trunks. 

"That's the forest you were talking about," Ava whispered in awe. “I wanna get a closer look.” 

You gently caught her arm. “Camp first, eat. It’ll still be here tomorrow.” 

~ 

Ava didn’t expect you to take her into an encampment. There were two dozen people in tents, an open grill going and laughter. They seemed to recognize you. It was mostly older adults, a few elderly people wrapped in thick blankets and teens walking around asking anyone needed drinks. You grabbed the blanket from your pack and wrapped Ava in it as soon as she found a seat on a slab of concrete. 

"Comfy?" 

Ava smiled up at you, taking the proffered fruit slice from you. "Very." 

She examined the strange fruit. It had a thin violet skin with a spongy white inner layer and pink juice with black seeds  dripping from it. She leabed over your shoulder get a look at the fruit as a whole, and it seemed the pink goop was loose inside the fruit similar to a coconut. 

"Are these from the trees," she asked. 

"Yeah, they're edible don't worry. No side effects we've seen," you assure. 

Ava nods but as she's licking the tangy pink juice you continue, "well except for Nadia but she's a mutant." 

Ava flicks worried green eyes at you and slowly takes the fruit from her mouth. She's already swallowed on reflex so there's no turning back now, only managing whatever weird things would come next. 

"Uh… what do you mean by that?" 

You blink at Ava. "Oh it's not, like, bad or anything. Right, Nadia?" 

A dark skinned girl in an orange beanie looked up from her phone. "What?" 

"Tauri makes you, what, gassy?" 

The man on the grill threw his head back in a laugh and Nadia kicked a rock at you. "Ha hah, you're everybody's favorite clown in the circus. It doesn't make me gassy, you jerk, it makes me smell like roses actually." 

"Oh," Ava said, "that's all?" 

You and Nadia shared a knowing look. "It's strong. Not overpowering but strong like you've got your nose buried in a whole bouquet of them." 

"And your fingers tingle and you make sparkles– " 

"Nadia I think that's just you, baby!" 

People laughed and the conversation died down. Ava let the slip of tauri fruit linger in her grasp until you gently pried it out and ate it yourself. You were side eyeing her but kept your question to yourself and eventually Ava was able to relax. She fell asleep during Nadia's uncle Rodney's story with her head on your shoulder and dreamed of violet things. Violet dresses, violet paint, violet fires, and violet sprigs. 

All you could dream of was the smell of roses so close and so thick you could touch it. 

~

The walk through the natural path as the trees got thicker finally prompted Ava to ask the question that's been plaguing her. "How do you know them? Are they family?" 

You cast a quick glance over your shoulder and slowed your pace to match hers as your fingers tapped the straps of your backpack nervously. "Sort of. They were family when I had no home to go to. Then I got a job with enough money and a stupid good deal on my apartment because I had no priors. 

"Rodney and Jules and some of the others prefer it out here with the forest. Some of them have nowhere else to go or no way to take care of themselves. Nadia's been kicked out of every home she's ever been to, but she won't go to that gifted school for mutants in Westchester county. Can't say I blame her either." 

"School for mutants, eh," Ava said as she trudged on, "interesting." 

You walked along in silence, drinking in the inviting quiet of the forest and the tiny chirps and peeps of its new inhabitants. You'd almost say it would be a shame to tear this place down knowing it's a new natural habitat, but you know New York had a hundred bigger and more pressing issues to deal with right now. As long as any capitalist moguls kept their eyes elsewhere, the new jungle should be fine. 

As the forest becomes denser, you have to pull a rechargeable flashlight out to see the ground beneath you. Black bugs crawl under and over the brush and fallen twigs, and something no bigger than a cat scuttles away out of the path of the light. Ava puts a hand on your arm and you open your mouth to assure her you'd protect her, but as you look at her you realize she's ready to protect you. Arm poised out and eyes darting around for signs of sudden movement from the brush. 

You walk in silence for what feels like an fantastic eternity but when you look at the canopy you stop yourself. Ava looks up to, gently taking a hold of your hand to keep you close and it sends tingles up your arm. She rarely reaches for you but she seems to be growing more and more confident of it. 

Light dances beyond the thicket of the leaves. Green and gold flashes as a soft breeze creates gaps beyond the chitauri rib ceiling and every time a light flashes you feel warmth on your skin like soft little kisses. 

Something wooden creaks, and that creaking quickly turns to snapping. You unconsciously squeeze Ava's fingers as you spot a black tree trunk beginning to fall towards you. Suddenly, Ava's arms are around you and she pulls you down into a duck. 

Everything happens so fast it blinds you. You can't see, can only feel as shivers of warmth and cold jitter through your entire being, drowning you into sensations you've never felt before. It makes you feel fear more than anything. Is this how you die? Cowering? 

When the sounds of falling trees stop, there is only the wind and the rush of Ava's windbreaker against yours. You test your fingers to see if they still work and dig them into her back. Nothing broken, you're still standing if gravity is correct. 

She finally lets you lift your head from her embrace and survey the scene. That tree opened a spot in the canopy for more natural light to pour in which is good because your flashlight was lost among the thick bramble bushes. 

Ava brushes your forehead. "Are you OK?" 

It must be a trick of the light but she looks like she's shimmering. Perhaps you hit your head or something but it seems like you never fell. Your standing just beside the fallen tree but you could have sworn you'd almost felt it go through you. And then…

And then there was the smell of roses. 

"I'm fine," you say at last. "Let's get back, probably shouldn't have come here by ourselves anyways…" 

Ava gives you a look, it almost looks like trepidation. You steel your resolve and press on to retrace your steps, knowing you had a lot of walking to do before you would exit the treeline. 

Ava has powers and you're ok with that. You'll just let her tell you in her own time. 

#three bees writing #ava starr #ava starr x female reader #ava starr x reader #marvel #antman and the wasp #black reader insert #🐝🐝🐝✒

[spiltscribbles]

Prompt 37 (from the first list) and bodyguard au seems interesting

By the way I love your writing please never stopped just finished your recent fic and its one of my favourites.

~Notes: 😭😭😭 baby u can’t be out here recklessly making me sob!!! I am so flustered right now!! Thank you so much for being a beautiful soul 😌😌 ok NEGL the bodyguard thing is not here Becs I’m dumb and couldn’t think of one, but there’s protective sirius💜 I hope you don’t hate this!!! ILU!!!

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Smash Game  |  Send Me A Prompt💜 |  A Reblog Means SO Much!!!!

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Alphard Black was a good man,  a man of his community,   a man of the law. He taught the ins and outs of the constitution  at Columbia, never went an inch over the speed limit, hell, he even  separated his recyclables into their proper piles for the garbage collector, and  all while spending his down time volunteering at some sort of virtuous charity or impactful outreach program for inner city youths—the man basically leaped right out of the screen of some cheesy, after school special, wacky ties and rumpled hair aplenty.

Alphard Black was a virtuous, humble man who abided by the laws set out for him to a painstaking degree—So Sirius sorta thinks it’s hilarious that he’s kind of the exact antithesis of his uncle— the man who brought him up after running away from his bat shit parents and their bat shit values as the top of the one percent.  Just kind of though.

Sirius likes to think he’s still a good guy—albeit in the typical, non second coming of Christ wannabe kind of way.  He gives spare change to homeless folks at Grand Central, doesn’t sneer at raucous kids inside of restaurants or busses… for fuck’s sake  he even smiles at strangers more often than not—— just the typical, What a nice day isn’t it, smile and not, I’m actually a blood thirsty maniac ready to carve out all your organs and wrap your naked, dead body in saran wrap Dexter style, smile…Which is actually a type of smile Sirius has become intimately familiar with considering that unlike his Uncle Alphard, Sirius may have a problem with the whole “Laws are created for the good of the public,” ideology, and rather subscribes to the way of thought that thinks it’s kind of thrilling to see how much you can bend and skirt around the rules till they break, or till he gets caught. Which in turn mostly manifests into Sirius participating in a very high demand business—the sort that’ conducts it’s transactions within the metaphorical underground, and makes it so he spends his days with a group of brilliant  assholes that he considers family, and a discretely wicked boy who he thinks is most probably the love of his god forsaken life.

Mother Mary,  help them all.

~*~

“Padfoot too Moony, are you in, Moony.” 

A moment of static passes before Remus’s voice trickles through the minuscule bluetooth  snuggled in Sirius’s ear, and he can’t help but smirk. “Why are you still trying to make these codenames work—they don’t work, they’re all awful and trash,  and we should just stick with the numbers we were given when Moody first scouted us.”

“Mmm yeah, Moons, talk dirty to me.”

“You’re a fucking idiot,”

“Say trash again.”

“I hate you,” Remus intones. He  sounds all surly and bothered, and Sirius’s fingers curl together to card through the phantom strands  of his hair, knowing full and well how adorably flustered Remus gets whenever they are having one of their little sparring sessions—It’s also the same look he gets whenever he’s incredibly turned on and has no idea how to handle it. Coincidence? Sirius thinks not.

“Ah, Moony, my love, you say that as if my perfect baritone isn’t the highlight of your day. Like you don’t write sonnets and odes about it’s every cadence and lilt in your little diary you think I don’t know about. As if—“

“I’m shutting you off now,” Remus cuts in with his best, I’m trying to pretend  that I am so totally annoyed even if I’m actually really amused by you and all your antics, voice. It’s one that’s basically come second nature to him whenever he speaks to Sirius, ever since they had met three years ago and Sirius had to teach him the trick of the trade after Remus had been invited into the fold, while also trying not to completely accost him with his lips and hands and teeth until the work day was over.

“You would never.” 

“You seriously have an overinflated sense of worth if you’re starting to doubt that I very much would,” Remus goads, but he forgets that Sirius can see every nook and cranny of the swanky penthouse from his perch in the getaway van, thanks to his very beautiful laptop monitor.  And yeah, Sirius can so totally spot that little flicker of a grin tugging on the edges of his pink lips,  where Remus is trying to hide it behind the flute of wine in his grasp—his very strong and capable grasp, one that’s wrapped around the neck of that glass just so tight—Oh, erm, yeah. That’s  a thought Sirius should definitely not be having at their current predicament.

“Righto, beautiful, whatever you say.”

“Was there an actual reason for your little interference, besides you being pissy that you had to take the get away position this time around?” Remus sighs, long suffering before offering a subdued, half grin to a very haughty looking woman passing him, predatory leer on her plump lips. And jeez, Sirius bemoans her poor eardrums if they’re suppose to be carrying diamonds that thick all night long— Poor hag will probably end up needing stitches like his dear mother.

“I missed you is all, lover.”

“Goodbye, Sirius.”

“Oh fine, you total spoil sport. Just an FYI that Marlene’s gotten into the volt’s room, and she’s decoding it as we speak.”

“Oh, good. Should I-“

“Moons, it’s Marls, she’s got her shit handled. You just stand there and be a the good, pretty honeypot that we all know you can be.”

Remus growls somewhere deep in his throat, and it’s bringing a flurry of such beautiful imaginings to the forefront of Sirius’s mind— including last night, with Remus’s lovely, thin wrists tied up and Sirius’s mouth trailing up and down his every patch of skin.

God, was that a good night.

“You’re a pain in my ass.” 

“I know, it’s a point of pride for me that I get to say I tap that. But hey, always game to switch things up if you are?”

“You are the absolute worst person ever.”

“Ooo are we circling back around to speaking filthy things, because I’ve been having this fantasy including you and these lace—“

That’s when Remus actually does shut off the communication device, and starts chatting up some smarmy businessman who can’t stop staring at his protruding collarbones.

Sirius is most certainly not jealous.

Nope, not at all—Not even a little bit.

Sirius is not jealous.

Okay, fine…So he’s a bit bothered, but can anyone blame him? All of that—chorded muscles and sparkling eyes—is reserved for  Sirius, and Sirius alone. It’s taken years of volleying barbs and really intense sexual tension that was all finally resolved after a way too dramatic spat outside some sleazy BDSM club on the wrong side of town where Sirius got himself fucking shot, and Remus couldn’t stop yelling at him for being such a mother fucking, idiotic, thoughtless prick, (Remus’s words not Sirius’s,) for them to finally get to this point. For fuck’s sake, it seemed as if Remus’s anger fueled diatribe would never end, so Sirius just took the dilemma into his own hands and slanted their lips together, bloody and breathless, panting out an “I love you too,” while Remus just patted up and down Sirius’s torso, not knowing where to put his hands, dumbfounded and eager. As if he could hardly believe that it was actually happening, as if he was shocked that Sirius had finally just put them out of their mutual misery and spoke out loud what’s been lingering in their gazes, and tailing the ends of too short exchanges for years at that point—ones always composed of banter and barbs but always to fearful to take the extra step they yearned for.

Yeah, so it wasn’t exactly a cinderella story level of romance, but the point is they’ve fought tooth and nail to finally get to this point in their relationship. Nights made up of spilt hair on warm sheets, and  hungry kisses of farewell, and shirts tumbling together so many times that  they don’t even know which belongs to who anymore—All of them lingering with a sent of both of them, together. Something intimate. Something remarkable. Something far too soft when considering their line of employment—But it works for’m, and that’s all that counts.

Before Sirius could get to lost in getting all starry-eyed over the life they’ve built for themselves, Sirius moves to sweep his hands across the keyboard, A cautious eye still on Remus and his unwanted suitor while dividing the screen so that he can check back on Marlene’s progress, which is quite impressive if he does say so himself.

“And Black Widow pulls through again,” He commends with a low whistle, watching her practically stroll out of the volt, ancient artifact securely settled in the bag swinging off her shoulder, and cocky sneer proudly splayed across her pretty face.

“You know it dweeb.”

“THat’s not my code name,” Sirius points out  with a put upon exhale.

Marlene’s only response is to hike up her manicured brows in counterfeit surprise.  “you sure? I could’ve sworn…”

Sirius legitimately contemplates just driving off and leaving her stranded, signaling to Remus a separate meet up point for just the both of them. But Eventually, he reasons  that might be a bit of an over reaction. So he settles for just growling out a reminder for her  to “Respect the name,” while a glowing Marlene slinks into the passenger seat.

“Your so precious.” Sirius swats her hand away where she’s begun rubbing her knuckles into his scalp. “Call pretty boy and let’s bounce, will you?”

Reluctant, Sirius listens—only and only because he’s about ninety nine point five percent positive that she could probably beat’m to a pulp with one hand tied behind her back and both eyes glued shut.

~*~

The mission was one they’ve been calculating for months, a huge catch with a credibility brought with it that doubles its actual monetary prophet—(And wowza, that price check is all levels of ridiculous.) Moody is beyond  proud, and tells them as much with a crazy large celebration back at their little underground headquarters, (which is actually an entire floor on one of the top levels of a huge ass skyscraper in the meatpacking district that disguises itself as just a financial consultant firm in the light of day.)

It’s made even more wonderful considering how he, Remus and Marlene are basically the guests of honor for their success. So that night  they drink, and dance and just generally get absolutely slobbered…Then subsequently remember nothing the following morning, as tradition always dictates.

Though Sirius does  distinctly remember trading sloppy hand jobs in the bathroom with Remus while the latest Beyonce banger pounds in the space between them.

 It’s a good night.

~*~

Unsurprisingly, the hangover that persists even two days later really makes Sirius question the worth of all that celebrating, and he ponders on whether or not being sober would be so bad.

“Morning, Black!” 

Sirius cringes back at a crowing Dorcas—Looking as wickedly gorgeous and put together as always—Dark eyes clear and methodic, and long curls obviously freshly washed. 

“Sorcerous!” He accuses with as much vehemence as he could muster. “your evil! How are you even so perky! Stop it! Stop! You’re hurting my eyes!”

Dorcas just preens with far too much amusement than what should be warranted—it’s almost as if she’s enjoying his pitiful disposition. “Not all of us got as sloppy as you Saturday night may I remind.”

“Then you’re doing your entire life incorrectly.”

“I just have a modicum of self restraint, unlike you.”

“Lies! Lies and slander! I am so very disciplined! I didn’t even tell you guys about the time Remus gave me a blow job in the middle of a glass elevator when we were shopping for Jamsie and Lily’s engagement gift!”

Dorcas just rolls her eyes heavenwards, painstakingly exasperated. “C’mon, dumb ass, Alice needs you to use those hacking skills of yours to get the money Lestrange still owes us for collecting those tears of the ocean. And her bank account is sealed shut.”

“Ah, no Cas ’s too early! And my head hurts! I can’t.”

“Shouldn’t have been such a drunken mess during the party I reckon,” Dorcas scoffs with an imperious tilt of the head, tugging him along without even an ounce of sympathy.

“Hey! It was a celebration!” Sirius flails, and Dorcas just looks at him with a decidedly unconvinced glower. 

“It’s all in moderation Sirius.”

“Not at a party it isn’t!” He argues back, totally knowing he’s in the right.

“Yeah whatever, you’re just lucky you weren’t sent off to Shanghai with lover boy, which by the way,” Dorcas pivots on her heels  to face Sirius straight on, prodding at the juncture where his neck meets his shoulder.  “Looks like you missed a hickey sweets,” she toots loftily, poking at it again, a flush blooming across Sirius’s cheeks in response.  “Not good work decorum if you ask me.”

“You’re face ’s not good work decorum,” Sirius snarks back mulishly. Dorcas just laughs with glee.

“Do I need to talk to poor, innocent Remus about proper biting placement for you once he gets back?”

“Pff, Remus and innocent don’t belong in the same sentence.”

“Fine, then  I can just give you some tips on how to properly layer foundation? I’m sure it’s a travesty how easily shit shows up with your Wonder Bread complexion.”

“You actually are evil! Aren’t you?”

Sirius could still hear Dorcas’s cackles from down the hall where Alice has set him up for the morning, and he idly thinks to himself how exactly he’s made it so that every woman in his life could destroy him with nothing more than a look.

~*~

Considering that all of their  livelihoods are basically glorified bank robbers, Sirius knows that their jobs don’t really lend themselves to being able to check in on each other whenever they’d please—the only devices they’re allowed for communication are the bluetooth sets  for the team deployed on the task at hand, and a single burner. It can get annoying sometimes, but Sirius and Remus always make it a point to send each other a message from the router phone  whenever they arrive to the mission’s ground of operation—It’s a practice ingrained into them, one  they began long before they ever started dating, one  that they never break, not even if they’re arguing or it’s the middle of the night—It’s important. They’ve both lost to many people in their short lives, and they both know how it feels to be delegated to the worrying mess, wondering what’s happening to their loved one, being consumed by the most awful of possibilities. They do it because they respect each other far too much not to.

So Sirius finds it excruciatingly odd that he doesn’t hear from Remus in over thirty-six hours since he left to the Shanghai hit. 

“Maybe he just forgot, Pads,” James shrugs, always the level headed ringleader. “No Proclivity is absolutely bullet proof—Ah, excuse me for the unplanned pun.” He scratches the back of his head a little sheepishly— the glasses of his wireframes glinting in the light of their shared workspace.

And the thing is, point. James is totally right. Remus just could’ve forgot. It was a long plane ride, he could’ve just been jet legged and a little dazed and it could’ve just slipped his mind  to message Sirius when he landed. That’s totally a possibility. 

But see the thing is, that’s also totally not a possibility—like at all. Remus is like the most diligent person on the face of the planet, which may kind of seem out of character considering how he’s more of the type to follow his heart over protocol when it counts, and his entire livelihood is based off the evasion of the law—But even still, Remus is also the guy who likes a true and tried method. He likes having security in the aspects of his everyday  life he can control. Sirius knows how borderline neurotic Remus can get about certain things, like finishing all of his paper work the night it’s given, or having a stable workout regiment, and a bunch of other minuscule, everyday things that tethers him. But Sirius also knows that the texts Remus sends him blows all of those out of the water. They’re something crucial—something vitally important. If the roles were reversed, if it were Sirius who forgot to send the text, then yeah, Remus would have a perfect history to look back on and just shrug it off as Sirius having been thoughtless, no big deal. Remus would just make a note to give him  an ear full when he gets back. 

But the rolls aren’t reversed.

It’s Remus who didn’t send anything, and Sirius knows it in his heart of hearts that this is not normal, that Remus would never have forgotten. Remus would never have fucking been able to go to sleep without passing Sirius a message of safe arrival. It’s just not him. 

James still looks unsure even after Sirius’s way to verbose and borderline babbling explanation of why he knows something isn’t adding up, so he decides to hit him below the belt.

“If this were Lily you wouldn’t be second guessing this.” 

James jolts back as if Sirius had just smacked him, which Sirius guesses is kind of true, in the metaphoric sense at the very least. But whatever, Sirius’s right, and he knows it. 

IF this was Lily— the beautiful, kind baker that James had met coincidentally on a random Sunday afternoon, someone completely divorced from this world— well, there would  be no room for discussion.

“IF this were Lily you would trust your gut, and we’d already know what went wrong. We’d know that you were right, the she wasn’t safe.” Sirius’s face feels heated, and he knows that his throat is closing up, but he can’t help it god damn it. This is Remus—And even the thought of him being in any way hurt—No, Sirius refuses to think that way. Because he’s not, he can’t be. This is Remus god damn it. He’s brilliant and strong and he can handle himself. He’s what everyone in their group secretly strive to be—He’s not hurt, he can’t be hurt.

James just sits there, gawking at Sirius, for a moment of pure and utter silence. Sirius doesn’t even flinch, doesn’t fold back from the intensity in his best friend’s— his brother’s— gaze. 

“This is Remus god damn it, James”

Something fierce rippling over his face, James nods, finally seeming to understand.

“Let’s tell Moody,  and call a group meeting. We need to figure out what the hell’s going on.” 

Sirius sags with the little relief he’s given, pretends that it doesn’t feel like there’s not a wildfire still spreading over his chest  from the  bone deep fear.

~*~

Two hours later finds their little ragtag group huddled in the largest meeting room they have, and  Sirius hunched over a menacing letter that was hand delivered by one of Lestrange’s ghoulish little minions— Crouch if their intel is correct. 

“Any news is good news, right?” Peter— their mousey little researcher— says in some weak attempt of comfort from where he’s silently been situated in the love seat the furthest away from the lump some, and Sirius replies by snarling viciously at him;  making Peter shutter back, like the spineless weasel Sirius has always assumed him to be.

Sirius is not comforted. Sirius is furious and sick and he hates everything  in sight. And all Sirius could think of is Remus, Remus, Remus.

“What do we do,” James’s voice is strong, convicted in the painful silence of the room—But when Sirius looks up, he could still see the worry etched into his handsome features, and the fear threaded into his stance. 

James is scared, and that might worry Sirius more than anything else could. 

“This is my fault, I sanctioned just stealing the money she owed us and I was the one who thought Remus would be fine on a solo mission—I thought it’d be a simple grab. I didn’t put two and two together—I just didn’t—“ Alice breaks off, looking away from the group, and Frank slings an arm around his wife’s slender shoulders.

“Hey now, ’s not your fault, ’s not no ones,” as if to emphasize his point, Frank gives a downright menacing grimace to everyone in the room, daring them to disagree. “It’s Remus, he’s resilient. And that bitch knows if he’s actually hurt we’ll destroy everything she’s ever built for herself.” 

“Don’t be so sure,” Sirius’s surprised of the jaggedness of his own voice, leveling him with a look of utter fury. “She’s a psychotic, selfish, self indulgent bitch—There’s worse things than just beating him up or locking him in some cellar.” 

From the corner of his eye he sees Alice shutter, is briefly reminded of that stint where she was badly injured after a run in with one of the darker ringleaders in their line of work, Riddle. And then he remembers, unbidden, how that bastard has some sort of fucked up Harley Quinn, Joker esthetic going on with Bellatrix Lestrange— and a sick, twisted part of Sirius that actually does blame Alice for sanctioning those two risky missions so close together, is savagely pleased of the effect that the reminder has on her. But the rest of Sirius is just disgusted by himself and hates himself even more when remembering where Remus is at this very moment, and what he must be going through. There’s no time to be pointing fingers, and Sirius knows it.

“Whatever, no time to think of it now,” Sirius rises, and the way all of their eyes follow his every move (Even Moody who is the actual boss— doesn’t go over his head. 

“What do you think we should do from here?” Dorcas asks in a small voice, clutching onto the letter like a life line—She’s Remus’s best friend, Sirius knows that, knows that she stopped only skirting  along the edges of this unsavory line of work until Remus came along and helped her wiggle out of her shell. And the reminder makes Sirius feel such a burst of aching for Remus all at once that he nearly topples over, just barely catches himself with a hand on the tabletop.

“Peter,” Sirius barks, making the blonde finally straighten. “Check out where Bellatrix is scheduled to appear next.”

“Ah, erm on it, of course.” 

Sirius starts to feel a little better—no not better, balanced. He knows what needs to be done, what will   happen next, knows that it’ll turn out all right. 

It has to turn out all right, because he can’t fathom a world where it doesn’t— a world without Remus isn’t worth even a breath.

~*~

If there’s anything that Sirius knows about supreme bitch face herself, it’s that Bellatrix is  cavalier to a fault. So it really doesn’t surprise him when Peter finds out that she’s holding a little gala for her new play things art exhibit in her own home that night, and Sirius intends on giving his congratulations, whether or not he’s on the guest list. 

~*~

“Hey, can you hear me.” 

Sirius presses an inconspicuous finger onto his eardrum when Dorcas’s voice breaks through, speaking the affirmative. 

“All right, well Moody says that upstairs is most likely where you’ll find’m. Marlene and James will stay down at the party just incase anything goes wrong.” 

“Right,” Sirius nods to himself, trying to put together all the new information that’s swimming in his mind. “Thanks Cas.”

“Stay safe, and bring him home. Don’t fuck this up, Sirius.” Her voice is small and fragile. Sirius could picture the gleam to her big doe eyes. “We need you both safe.”

“Of course."

~*~

As expected, the upstairs is a labyrinth of doors and alcoves that Sirius could barely wrap his mind around, the only constant thought is that it makes sense that Bellatrix would want to keep the money from the job she had them perform for her. The rent for this place definitely can’t be cheap.

Sirius tries at least ten different rooms before he comes across one that’s locked from the inside as well as a deadbolt, and His heart seizes with a choked sort of hope before he starts pounding against it. 

“Remus! Remus! Are you in there!” His voice goes ragged at how loud he’s screaming, but Sirius doesn’t let up. He starts calling  for him even louder if possible. “Remus!” 

“Ah, ah, ah,” Sirius stiffens, his blood running cold before slowly turning around to a very amused looking Bellatrix Lestrange. Predatory sneer swept across her blood red lips, and weight slung to her left hip. The picture of radiance and leisure in her slinky, black dress. She’s having fun toying with Sirius, with all of them. 

“Where the fuck is he,” Sirius spits out tersely—trying to sear wholes right through her disarming face. He thinks with a start  that she’d be pretty in an almost unchanging way—a timeless elegance that kind of mirrors Remus’s. But where beneath Remus’s golden exterior is all passion and goodness and an endless capacity of love, under Bellatrix’s pale white skin and dark eyes and sheets of even darker hair is just ugliness and cruelty and Sirius has never hated anyone more, or so intensely.

“Oh sweetheart, I’m so sorry that they sent the best of their group to the den,” She swaggers up to him, each step premeditated—a lion closing in on her prey, and her leer right then— self assured and cruel all at once— is like a mirror of his mother’s so thoroughly that it’s painful. “I’d really hate to ruin those movie star good looks you’ve got going on,” she runs the back of her hand down his face slowly, tendrils of her warm breath edging his lips. “And honey, you really are so deliciously gorgeous. But Moody needs to learn that no one double plays me so flippantly. No  respect, that kind of behavior  really can’t be tolerated. You understand that, don’t you  love?”

Right then, Bellatrix moves to  gouge Sirius right in the stomach with a dagger she had hidden in the sleeve of her dress—but Sirius’s quicker. 

He sweeps Bellatrix’s feet right from under her, twisting her arm behind her back and using her own weapon to chop off the doorknob, all in one fluid movement. Though,  he only has a sparing moment to feel boastful before he steps into the room to find Remus—sickly looking with blood matted in his golden locks, before everything turns to a buzzing in  the background—Sirius runs on autopilot, with the only crucial thought being to get Remus out safely. 

“Baby, I’m here, I’ve got you.” Sirius tells him with the words catching in his throat, and feels such a drowning amount of relief when he hears a gargled retort from Remus. “I’d never let anything happen to you, love. I’m so sorry. I’ll never let something like this happen again.” Sirius tells him with all the earnestness in the world, gently collecting him into his arms. “I’ve got you now, I won’t let go.” The promise is  as sure and true as the pump of his heart—Remus, Remus, Remus.

~*~

When they all return to headquarters, everyone circles a still limp and shallowly breathing Remus, while Dorcas figures out the extent of his injuries.

It’s the worst hour of his life Sirius thinks—The not knowing, it hurts like nothing else. And he swears once more, to himself and the moonlight and the stars peeking through the skyline that he’ll never let this happen, never again., doesn’t want Remus ever out of his sight.

~*~

A week later, and everything feels as if it’s back to normal—more or less.

Their bedroom smells like sage—thanks to the candles Lily bought Remus for his last birthday—And Remus’s swaddled into the most comfortable blanket Sirius could find—his twisted ankle elevated, and a fresh bowl of soup on his night stand.

It’d be the picture of absolute bliss… Now if Remus wasn’t scowling so morosely. 

“You seem mad,” Sirius notes, standing over him with a freshly fluffed pillow. Remus looks up at him from under his spider leg lashes, so very unimpressed.

“You’ve never taken care of me  nearly so intently   a day in your life.”  Remus charges.

“Untrue!” Sirius squawks in contrary. 

“When I got food poising from that sushi place last year, you blamed me for eating it wrong.”

“Yeah, well it’s blasphemous to ever blame Kimiko! The woman is a titan!” 

Remus’s mouth quirks up, his eyes twinkling with unadulterated adoration. “You’re an idiot.”

Sirius deflates. “Okay, so I might be kind of majorly mother penning it right now,” Remus cranes a incredulous brow. “Okay, okay so a lot mother penning it. But, Remus— love— you were missing—like legitimately missing. And then i found you and you were…” He trails off, can’t even speak the horrors of that night. 

“Yeah, I was,” Remus links their fingers together, pulling Sirius closer, and opening his mouth so that when Sirius crouches to come face to face, he can kiss him properly.  “But you happen to be a pretty all right boyfriend, you found me—I’m fine. You made sure of that.”

“More than all right prick,” Sirius knocks their foreheads together and Remus feigns being in excruciating pain. “I fucking hate you,” he snorts, saddling against Remus’s side, and nuzzling into his neck, taking in the miraculous scent of him— the citrus and cinnamon and sunlight that he’s come to crave at all hours of the day. “I love you sort of a lot, and it was the worst three days of my life, all right. Can you understand that?” 

Remus only hums,  kisses the tips of Sirius’s fingers before lacing them into his own.

“I understand, love, but Sirius, I’m fine. I’m here. You’re amazing, but you don’t need to protect me. Not constantly. This is our lives, and I need you to trust me that I can handle myself for the most part. All right?” 

Sirius makes a displeased sound, lips curled distastefully, and it makes Remus actually giggle like they were school boys again. And Jesus, Remus’s smile is blinding and beautiful and fucking hell, he’s here. He’s back in there room, back in Sirius’s arms.

“God, I missed you.”

Remus crunches upwards, kissing Sirius, and it feels like a promise that he’ll never leave him again. “I love you Sirius.”

Sirius leers, isn’t ready to have the conversation about learning how to let Remus go out without him. So instead he traces his thumb over Remus’s beautifully plump bottom lip, and bends down to whisper into his ear. “So can we talk about the lace then, because I’ve made some purchases and—“

Remus pushes him off their bed, and Sirius feels his laughter punching out of him in response.

~*~

~My Wolfstar FIC Index💜

#WOLFSTAR #REMUS LUPIN #SIRIUS BLACK #SIRIUSXREMUS #WOLFSTAR FLUFF #REMUSXSIRIUS #HARRY POTTER SERIES #MARAUDERS #THE HARRY POTTER SERIES #spilt ink #love you angel #?!!! #This is edited from an old old FIC of mine #in my drafts #and i'm afraid my writing is so so contrasting #rip #sdlkjgalksdfjoiwpqgdsa

[insufferablelust]

Hey I absolutely love you’re writing, and I love your writing style. can I request a Spencer Reid x sub!reader fic where she is out with him and his friends for dinner and she keeps teasing him infront of them and then he gets frustrated and punishes her in the restroom ? Can you include degradation,(name calling and dirty talking), choking and exhibitionism.

hi love! thank you so much for req, sorry it took me such a long time to get to it, i was in a bad place for couple of days. And i changed the settings a bit to fit the pictures in my imagination i hope you don’t mind. thank you once again, enjoy! and for those who have been patient enough for me to write their reqs, dont worry it’s all coming soon! MASTERLIST HERE!

WARNINGS : Dom!Spencer x Sub!Reader, Smut obvi, Fingering, no penetrative sex, Degradation by name calling, Exhibitionism, Pretty intense breath play by choking, Spankings, brat tamer-esque!spencer, bratty!reader, umm fluff??? thats it i think

You must admit that teasing Spencer wasn’t really your intention tonight, you really tried your best to behave especially after being so reckless going after an unsub alone without waiting for back up, but you got lucky and the unsub was caught. Although, Spencer still can’t help but to be mad at you, you were careless and he didn’t like that.

The entire jet was silent, mostly asleep except for you and Spencer. Right after you caught the unsub, Spencer pulled you into a secluded area far from prying ears of their teammates and scolded her, “You could’ve gotten yourself killed, Y/N?”

Then and there you should’ve known not to get bratty, should’ve just apologized and said that you were trying to save the girl but your adrenaline rush got the best of you, and that led you to gave him two things he hates most, an eye roll and remark, “Oh! give me a damn break! i saved the girl, and caught the asshole too, you’re so insufferable.”

He was taken aback of course, even you were too. Your lips trembled as you thought back to his face, there was a slight pain that crossed his eyes, but mostly you knew that deep down he knows you didn’t mean that. But does he? because right after that you two separated your ways to the jet up until now.

“Spencer..” You whispered, he sat opposite of you besides Alvez and you beside JJ. He looked up momentarily from his book before shaking his head and hold up one finger, oh great your dominant boyfriend is seething and he’s giving you a time out.

You pouted as you sank deeper into the seat, before reaching to tangle his legs with yours as a sign that you’re sorry. To your delight, he hummed, leaned forward and pat your knee— it was his way of saying “yes i’m not mad but that doesn’t mean you are out of punishment.” Then you fall asleep after that, drifted off to the thought of what he’ll do to you later.

—————

Spencer groaned lowly as he heard the team are planning a celebratory dinner after they had done their paperwork, it’s not that he hated his teammates, they’re his family after all. But right now, all he wanted was to leave bruises on Y/N and to make sure she had learned her lesson, he was so frustrated that his palm was twitching at the thought of her being so reckless like that.

He was pulled out of his thought when she tapped his shoulder, innocently batting her eyelash and leaned on his desk “Are we going tonight?” She nervously asked, eyes won’t meeting his directly which he frowned at. Gripping her wrist, “Y/N, look at me.”

Y/N instantly turned her head to him, eyes looking directly into his, before apologizing “I’m sorry.. sir i’m really sorry..” She muttered, dropping her head in shame that brought extreme sadness to him, instantly pulling her into a hug and cradled her. “Shh, i know you wanted to save her but that was careless, can’t go running around and risk your life like that.” He wasn’t a fan of PDA but when he needs to show you what he meant, he’ll do it even if he has to show bits of their romantic life.

“I know, that’s why i’m sorry.” She pouted up at him, earning a soft smile and a kiss on the lips. “Lovebirds, you two coming?” You heard Rossi snickered beside you, as you blushed and looked up at your boyfriend for answer,

“Yeah, yeah we’re coming.”

Oh how wonderful, your bratty little mind thought.

——————

During the entire ride to the restaurant, you and Spencer engaged in small conversations mainly about how weird New York was when you seen it last, and pointing similarities about stuff. It was all fun and good until your hand started to creep up on his thigh, fingertips dancing against the fabric of his pants. He didn’t pay you any mind at first, no he thought you were just being touchy feely with him.

Oh but that changes quickly when your fingers ghosted over his clothed crotch, earning herself a warning from him, “Y/N.” Your eyes peered at his as you grinned, hands still running up and down his thigh sometimes getting closer to his crotch.

“Yes, Doctor?”

There it is, she has drank the poison and now she’ll deal with the consequences.

————

Throughout the dinner Y/N kept on continuing her devious acts, brushing his calf, running her fingertips directly on his crotch, moaning at the taste of the dessert, and even go as far as whispering stuff on his ear, stuff that made him itch to bend her over the table.

The first warning she received from him was a tap on her knees and a slide glance, then she shrugged and brushed it off. The second warning weren’t so kind, he had shoved her palms below her thighs and knead her thigh with his nails with a low drawl “Y/N..” She whimpered then and promised she won’t do it again, and he believed her, only because he knew they were getting suspicious.

Oh but the next time Y/N teased her boyfriend, was the last time she will ever sit nicely in awhile, Spencer saw red, tugging on her wrist as he bids farewell to their teammates, saying stuff like “We have an appointment tomorrow.” Not really caring on how they took it.

Y/N felt the insides of her belly swarmed with butterflies and intense warmth, as his bruising grip tighten around her wrist— making an indent on her skin. They stormed outside and went to their car while Spencer pushed her against it and wrap his hand around her throat, gripping ever so tightly— making sure his fingertips were on the very pulse.

“You’ve been testing me the whole day and night, you mindless little brat. I’ve had enough of your reckless behavior and attitude. If a punishment is what you want, then a punishment is what you’re going to get, but don’t fucking cry out when i make you writhe in pain.” He muses on her ear, whilst she nod desperately, trying to find enough oxygen, “P-please..” Her eyes watered as he pressed his knee right between her legs and then release her throat, watching her gasping for breath.

“Turn around.” He demanded, she instantly obliged not wanting to damage the situation anymore. Spencer pushed her against the car and one hand around her neck, the other slip his hand under her dress to squeeze her ass tightly, then leaned in to whisper “You look so pathetic you know that? we’re in a restaurant parking lot and yet you never told me to stop. Do you want me to punish you here? where everyone can see what a nasty mindless brats get when they act recklessly?”

All she can do is moan as she grind harder against his knee, whilst holding onto him with dear life. “Get in the back seat.” He ordered, taking a step back from her so she could get in and climb in after her.

“Over my lap.” He demanded, all Y/N could do now is to oblige everything he said, not more not less so she laid ass up over his lap and then brace herself as she felt the roughness of his palms against her ass— dress yanked up long ago.

“How many, princess?” He ask condescendingly, fingers gripping her hair tightly as she moaned out loud when his other hand graze against her covered cunt. “as many as you want, sir.” she choked out, which seemed to please him judging by how he hummed to the tone.

“We’ll do 20, with different intensity. What’s your safe word?” That warmed her heart, even if he’s mad, he never forgets how important communication, safety, and comfort is. “Lilac.”

“Good girl, shh i don’t wanna head anything coming out of that mouth unless its to count, safe word, or thank me. Understand?” It was a trick question, normally she would answered but then she remembered it’s not allowed so she looked back at him and nodded sweetly.

That seemed to both please him and make him the more eager, he delivered the first slap making her broken out a cry “O-One! Sir thank you!” He took a deep breath before slapping her covered ass once again earning more broken sobs and moans.

By the time they reached 15, her ass was so sore, yet the burn intensified everything, her soaked panty could agree. She was soaked through. “5 more, minx. Come on don’t be pathetic now.” His tone made her shivered, she sucked on his thumb preparing herself for the last five.

“Oh fuck! 20! thank you please no more...” Y/N cried out as she sob into the leather seat, her covered ass was burning, his handprint left her squirming on his grip as he soothe her, gently tugging her hair up, turn her around so her head is laid on his lap.

“Shh.. it’s over now, baby. You’re okay.” He rub her tummy as she evened out her breathing, eyes looking up at his, even through the darkness of the car he still looks dashing. “T-Thank you for teaching me a lesson.. i’m sorry i was a brat..” Her voice was barely above whisper which meant she was deep in her subspace, which made Spencer becomes more protective of her.

“It’s okay bunny. You did great, i’m not mad at you.” He whispered, his hands that were on her tummy trailed down slowly before slipping it inside her panties, he gently graze his fingertips on her labia, feeling it soaking with absolute need.

“Oh princess, look at you.. Soaked hm? you really love being taught a lesson didn’t you?” his fingers slowly rub circles on her clit, pressing on it with enough force that it made her shudder to no end, her moans were loud.

“Spencer.. please!”

“What do you want, baby?” Spencer chuckled, using his palm to rub her sensitive nub as his fingers brushes ever so slightly against her opening, smearing the sweet nectar all over her cunt.

“Fuck me, Dr.Reid..” She groaned, using the last bit of bratty-ness left in her, her hips bucking as he hold her neck with one hand and finger her cunt with the other.

“You never learn do you? you desperate needy little baby.” His mocking tone turned her on like nothing else, trails of ‘uh uh uh’s left her mouth and her hips keeps on grinding upwards, leaving Spencer no choice but to clamp his hand on her neck and muttered lowly, “You won’t get my cock tonight so don’t bother to ask. If you don’t behave, i won’t let you cum for weeks, i will edge you during those weeks, giving you ruined orgasms, and make your life a living hell. So if you still want that orgasm you crave, stop fucking squirming.” His words might as well make her orgasm, the way he commanded her, owned her— just the biggest turn on of her life.

When her eyes watered, he released her neck then continue to finger fuck her with force, so much force that she can’t help it but to scream. “Oh! S-Spencer! i’m going— may i cum sir?”

“Hold it.” He ordered sternly, his palm grazing against her clit, giving her the umpteenth intense pleasure of the night. She tried so hard not to cum, but the need still outweighs her desire to not disobey her boyfriend. “P-Please.. Cant.. cant oh god..”

“Now, cum now pet.. go on.” Her eyes snapped shut at his command making sure to moan out strings of ‘thank you sir! thank you’ when she came all over his fingers, practically soaking the expensive leather as well as her dress. He worked her through her high, before drawing his fingers out when she flinched due to sensitivity.

Y/N’s eyes opened slowly to find him smiling looking down at her which she returned. Spencer pressed his wet fingers on top of her lips, she greedily suck on it, making him groan. “Fuck love, do you know that you made me bust in my pants?”

You released his fingers, eyes widen “What? Really?”

“See it for yourself, you brat.” He scoffed, seeing her turned her head to looked at the mess on his crotch which made her sit up in excitement, and smiles. “But when?!”

“The moment you came, you look so gorgeous i cant help but to cum.” He whispered, his cheeks warm with a hint of flushness which made her giggle. “oh wow the effect i have on you...”

“Y/N i swear to god, i’ve had enough of your brattiness for one night.” Earning a laugh from her, he shakes his head, before cleaning them both with the tissues and sprayed the car with disinfectant which made Y/N laugh loudly,

“What a genius germphobe.” She teased, which made his head turned to her side and glared.

“Okay okay! i won’t tease...” She bit her tongue at the last part before muttering a seductive “Doctor...”

“That’s it! No cumming for a month.”

“No Spencer!”

“Nope.”

You really do love being a brat.

—————————

SORRY THIS SUCKED IM NOT FEELING WELL SHSKSK, anyways requests still open so send them away! thank you for supporting.

#insufferableblurb #criminal minds imagines #criminal minds smut #dom!spencer #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid smut #spencer x reader

[plus-size-reader]

Those Eyes pt.2

Bucky Barnes x Plus size!reader

Word Count:1421 words

Warnings: bit of an AU, anxiety, panic attack, PTSD

Summary: The answers come to the reader, but it isn’t really as simple as just the truth. 

——————————————————————————————————

You could feel a scream pulling at your lips as you stared at the now rather alarmed looking man. However, there was no room for any explanation from you because there was currently no air in your lungs.

All you could do was stand there, shaking, as you tried to calm your racing heart.

There was no way that the man standing in front of you was the same man who killed your parents but if you could suspend logic for a moment, you were sure. You were beyond sure that those were the eyes you'd seen all those years ago.

The eyes of a man who spared you, even though he butchered your parents.

It was possible that it was some kind of combination of exhaustion and stress but you simply didn't think so. You knew that there was something completely and totally wrong, but the words to explain just didn't exist.

Running through your veins right now was a fear you hadn't felt in a very long time, a real fear that nothing else had ever been able to rival.

"Is everything okay? Do I need to get you something? Do you need to sit down?" he asked, reaching out gently to try and stabilize you which certainly didn't help. As soon as he reached out toward you, you screamed.

It was a blood curdling scream, one that could only rival the woman in those terrible horror movies Tony would make you watch every Halloween. Not only did Bucky back up at that though, but a gaggle of others came running toward the sound.

Unsurprisingly, your brother was the first to reach the door, swinging it open without a second thought. He was greeted with quite the sight, between the broken glass on the floor and you practically shutting down.

Even still, he didn't skip a beat.

"Hey, it's okay. I'm here with you, just breathe" Tony cooed, wrapping his arms tightly around your frame to try and keep you from shaking even more, trying to coax you into your breathing exercises.

These were things he'd learned as a young man, when he had to learn how to navigate the childhood trauma you'd experienced after the accident. You used to have random panic attacks just like this one all the time or terrible night terrors that he had to talk you down from.

While it hadn't happened in a long time, evidently it was like riding a bike, he had never really forgotten how to do it.

"What happened?" Steve asked in a hushed whisper, looking over his best friend as if something had happened with him. As far as he knew, Bucky could have been having an episode of his own. After all, he wasn't the only one left bruised and paranoid over the events of that night.

Not that you knew that.

"She panicked, I don't know. She didn't say anything" the dark haired man tried, rattled in his own right over the way you'd reacted. As far as he knew, he hadn't done anything to set you off but maybe it wasn't something he was aware of.

Thankfully, Tony was quick to step in to explain, as you were no longer in a position to even stand on your own, led alone talk through what you were thinking. You were probably going to be nonverbal for at least half an hour after this.

"Are you okay to go with Nat while I clean this up?" he asked you, waiting until you gave a small nod to gingerly hand  you over to the red head, who helped you down the hall so that you could sit down.

Once you were out of the room, Tony got to work with his explanation. "Don't worry about it, it isn't you. She's had a really hard time since mom and dad passed, certain things just set it off" he tried, hoping that was good enough to calm the man.

He knew how sensitive Bucky could be to those sorts of things and didn't want him to feel guilty like it was his fault, if only he knew.

See, you knew full well that there was something about Bucky that no one else knew but that was the difficult part. Not even Bucky himself had any recollection of what he'd done on that night in 1991.

All he knew was that something was terribly wrong, and that he owed you some kind of apology for whatever it was he'd done.

Natasha and Pepper spent the next half an hour or so talking you down from your panic in hushed, soft whispers. They made sure that you were keeping your breathing level and that you weren't thinking about it anymore until you were finally able to communicate again.

Once that moment came though, you still weren't sure what to say.

"I'm okay now, thank you" you tried, taking it slow as you sat up from where you'd been just laying down on the couch. Going too fast after something like that could trigger another panic attack but you knew that you were okay now.

You had been caught off guard was all, that had to be it. You must have just been tired, and that made you think that you aught to apologize for that poor man you probably traumatized.

"Can I talk to him for a second?" you asked, approaching the lab slowly once again, finding the shards of glass now nowhere to be found. The man in question didn't move when you spoke, looking instead between Steve and Tony for some kind of guidance.

"Are you sure that's a good idea kid? We still don't know what triggered it the first time" Tony warned, knowing what could happen if something spooked you again. Still, once you nodded, he didn't ask again.

You were an adult now and if you felt like you could handle it, he wasn't going to tell you differently. "I'll be okay, I'm good now" you assured, taking a seat across from where the brunette had been sitting, wracking his brain to try and figure out what he'd done to upset you so badly.

There was a moment or two of silence between you as you tried to organize your thoughts, not daring to look him in the face at first.

"I'm sorry that I scared you. When I was a little girl, there was an accident and I've had nightmares ever since. I guess something about you just reminded me of them" you explained, hoping his wouldn't be offended by that.

That wasn't exactly the best thing to say while making a first impression but it was the truth. There was no use lying after what you'd done anyway, not that you could even come up with a convincing lie in your current state.

"I think it's your eyes"

That came out after, without you even meaning to let those words slip from your lips. Bucky didn't say anything, not at first. Instead, he just let you talk, mostly because he didn't know what to say.

It wasn't until a few more seconds went by without any more words from you that he ventured to speak to you. His words were unsteady and shaky when he tried to ask you what he so desperately wanted to know, but he wasn't even sure why.

He couldn't place it, but he felt like he'd seen you somewhere. Though, like most of his memories, the truth was likely buried away from him in the distant sands of time.

"What about my eyes?" he sounded almost afraid when he asked, but as if on cue, you looked up at his face, taking in the look there. You barely let your own gaze focus on those blue eyes, feeling your stomach turn at the sight of them.

Still, as you tried to avoid his burning stare, the more you found your eyes brought back to his own. There was something almost magnetic about the look you found there, once you worked past the abject rejection you felt toward him.

You found that his gaze held an almost opposite affect. You just felt deep down in your soul that he knew the truth about what had happened, even if he didn't even realize he had the power.

A few more seconds ticked by while you gathered your thoughts before you spoke again. "They're the eyes I saw the night my parent's were murdered" and then, feeling as if your business was done, you stood and left.

#bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #the winter soldier #the winter soldier x reader #the winter soldier x ps reader #the winter soldier imagine #the winter soldier x plus size reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x ps reader #bucky barnes x plus size reader #bucky barnes imagine #Avengers #avengers x reader #avengers x ps reader #avengers x plus size reader #avengers imagine #marvel #marvel x ps reader #marvel x reader #marvel x plus size reader #marvel imagine

[bbdaydreams]

Courage My Love// Semi Eita

Pairing: Semi Eita x Reader

Summary: You like Semi and come up with a plan to confess to him, unfortunately it takes a turn. You meet again a couple years later by chance.

Chapter Two: How Do You Feel?

Series Masterlist•<previous•next>

—————

The moment you were allowed to leave the auditorium you made your way back to your dorm. A couple people would stop to congratulate you on your win, some being complete strangers. They were nice and thoughtful but right now you weren’t in the right mindset to interact with others. You held your trophy close to your chest so it wouldn’t get damaged but also draw minimal attention mumbling a quick “thank you” from time to time.

“Y/n!” Tendou called your name when you were made it to the building that your dorm was located. You turned to face him and waited for him to catch up. When he made it to you his first instinct was to wipe your tears. “C’mon, no more tears,” he said softly before opening the door to let you in first.

When you made it to your dorm Tendou made his way to his spot on the edge of your bed while you set the guitar case down and put the award somewhere on your desk. Walking to your bed you immediately threw your covers up before getting under them and cocooning yourself with them.

Tendou met you about halfway through your first years when you interrupted their practice to drop something off for Semi. He didn’t know his friend had such a pretty friend. When you asked for Semi he immediately started his teasing which left you blushing, a look that Tendou found entertaining.

When you started getting closer with Semi, you also became more aquatinted with his friends as he did with yours. At first, you definitely thought Tendou was quite the oddball but you were quick to accept him as he was, it’s just Tendou things.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” the redhead spoke.

“I don’t get it. I thought we were closer than this. I don’t know what I’m more hurt by, the fact that he didn’t ask me to be his date or the fact that I had no idea he was even seeing someone.”

“I didn’t even know. Hell, even Wakatoshi was surprised when it wasn’t you he was asking!”

“God next week is gonna be so embarrassing,” you said now burying your face into your pillow.

“Hm? Why’s that?”

“We have our stupid dance next week! And we have that dumb dinner we all agreed to go to before we went to the stupid dance! Everyone is gonna have a date but me! Reon is going with his girlfriend, Ushijima has his date, Semi has miss mysterious, you have your date-“

“I don’t have anyone,” Tendou quickly cut you off.

You furrowed your eyebrows as you turned to look at him. “Why don’t you have a date?”

He shrugged his shoulders before responding, “I don’t know. I was gonna go by myself. I don’t mind being the odd man out.”

“I’ll be your date.”

Tendou turned and looked at you as if you were crazy. He leaned forward and squinted his eyes before leaning back. “Are you sick or something? Weren’t you crying over Semi and now you’re moving on that quick? I know I’m great but still that’s a little too quick for me doll face.”

You laughed as he spoke. “I am heart broken, but you still deserve to go to our last dance with a date. I don’t mind, I’ll go with you, what are friends for?” Once you realized what you said you where quick to apologize. “I mean, you don’t have to go with me if you don’t want to. I know you can ask someone else and they’ll say yeah, it was kinda selfish of me to just offer myself like that especially with all this going on.”

“I’ll take you up on your offer.”

-

The next morning you decided to text Izumi about her offer. It was the weekend so classes weren’t a huge focus, especially since the year was about to end.

“Girls! She texted!” Izumi exclaimed, raising her phone in the air with excitement.

“No way,” the girl with the attitude responded.

“That’s a good sign!” the soft spoken girl added. “What did she say?”

“She asked if we could talk more about the band.”

“Invite her over, Izumi!”

“Already did. She should be here soon.”

Walking towards the arts building you kept glancing at your phone every few steps. Why hasn’t he texted you? Does he not care about how hurt you were? Semi kept clouding your mind. You guys text regularly and you assumed he would’ve texted by now asking you if you were okay or even just saying a morning. Maybe you should text him first, you thought but that idea went out the window when you made it your destination. You put your phone away and opened the door to focus on finding the room that Izumi told you they’d be in.

When you found the room you knocked on the door waited for someone to answer. You heard voices on the other side for a bit until the door opened to reveal the bathroom girls.

“Welcome!” Izumi greeted, letting you into the room before closing the door behind you. “Thanks for coming, this is the practice room we managed to snag.”

“Hi,” you greeted her before looking at the other girls and saying hello to them as well.

“We didn’t properly introduce ourselves yesterday, now did we?” the main girl spoke. “I’m Yui.” She put her hand out for you two to shake.

“I’m Haruka,” the timid one spoke.

“It’s nice to meet you all.” You took a second to look around the room. It was a pretty much empty room with some supplies and desks but it was all pushed to one side of the room while the open space they created housed their instruments. “How’d you get this room? Eita usually has to go off campus to practice with his mates.”

“I’m close with the music teacher, so she pulled some strings and managed to do this for us,” Yui answered.

“Is Semi your ex?” Haruka asked innocently which made the girls eyes go wide.

“Haru, you can’t just-“

“It’s okay. And no he’s not my ex, we’re just friends. When you guys found me I was just overwhelmed,” you told them. They looked at each other as if using telepathy to communicate with each other. They must’ve unanimously decided not to press you further with their own curiosity and changed the subject.

“So, what kind of music do you listen to?”

“I listen to a little bit of everything but mainly pop punk I guess. It’s hard to label it. What about you guys?”

“I get that and we’re pretty much the same. Haruka is mostly into metal, but she still vibes with all the other stuff,” Izumi answered.

At this you had to laugh a bit. The most innocent and quiet looking one of the group, enjoyed heavy music. “Haruka, no way,” you told her while looking at her.

She leveled her eyes with yours before giving you a closed eye smile and speaking, “I love the lyrics and head banging. It’s fun.”

“I have to agree. What sound are you guys aiming for with the band?” You asked.

“Honestly anything. I don’t think we really have a sound yet, we kinda just play and mess around until we find something we like or we’ll give a topic and try to match something up with that makes sense. You mind listening for a second?” Yui asked making her way towards the bass.

“I’d love to” you responded before taking a seat on one of the empty desks. Izumi made picked up the electric guitar and Haruka sat on the stool behind the drums which was another surprise for you. Don’t judge a book by its cover, you reminded yourself.

Haruka gave the count down with her drum sticks before leading them into the song. Yui joined in and then Izumi followed after. Watching them was entertaining, Haruka’s hair was going all over the place you had to question how she was able to see. Yui seemed to enjoy swaying side to side while occasionally head banging while Izumi seemed a little stiff but was definitely enjoying themself. They seemed to be in sync with each other it made you worry that if you were to join if you would mess up their flow. When they finished they looked up to you.

“So what do you think?” Yui asked.

“I’d like to join, I just don’t wanna mess you guys up. You guys seem pretty in tune with each other are you sure you want me to join?”

The girls immediately started laughing making you question if you said something wrong.

“You’re funny, y/n,” Haruka giggled.

“We’ve been together for a year now and have been practicing almost daily which is why we’re at the level we are,” Izumi stated.

“Listen, yeah we’re alright but we need that missing piece which is you. And we’re picky. We’ve been looking for six months for a lead so when we saw your performance we knew we had to have you. We want you,” Yui added on.

You slipped off the desk and smiled at them before presenting a notebook you brought along with you. “Then I guess I’m in. This is my lyric book, basically what I have to offer besides my voice.”

Yui took the book and flipped through it while Izumi and Haruka looked over the writing as well. Yui and Izumi looked very concentrated while Haruka’s expression showed amazement.

“You’re good!”

“Dude, you’re definitely in. I can’t wait to perform these live in front of others!”

“Damn girly, you really are full of surprises.”

Blushing at their compliments you accepted your journal back. “Thank you, I’ve been writing since my first year.”

“Can I ask why there were some ripped pages?” Izumi asked.

“Oh, those were some songs I wrote for Eita’s band. I felt like they were more his style so I gave them to him.”

You guys continued chatting until it was around lunch time. They wished you goodbye and reminded you to come back tomorrow to start joining them for practice. You left the practice room with a smile on your face, excited for what the future held in store for your new band.

-

The week went by fast, you basically spent it writing more lyrics since all your school work was already done.

The school dance was tonight and so was the dinner that you were joining. You got out of the shower and threw on some sweats before making your way back to your dorm so that other girls could go take a shower to get ready.

“Hey, Y/n,” Yui greeted when she was stepping out of her dorm with a towel. “You getting ready?”

“Yeah, you’re going to the dance too right?” You told her, taking a step closer to the wall so others could walk by.

“Yep. I assume I’ll see you there. You’re going to that dinner thing with your friends first right?”

You nodded your head up and down. “Mhmm. I’ll probably part ways with them at the dance and try to find you and the others.”

“Sounds good. Remember, if anything happens, you have us to rely on. I know we barely know each other yet but we’re here for you,” she told you honestly. Yui may come off strong, but she really is a reliable human being. “I’m gonna try to find a shower head, see ya.”

When you made it back into your dorm you noticed a package in front of your door. Picking up and making your way inside you inspected it to make sure it was for you before opening it. The label read your name followed by the sender, Rarity Records. Your breath hitched.

You heard rumors that agencies were going to attend the talent show, but you weren’t sure you believed it. You carefully sliced the top of the package using a pair of scissors to unveil the contents. In the package you discovered a letter along with some snacks, stickers, and merch from artists that belonged to the label.

Dear L/n F/n,

We would like to congratulate you on your win last week! Your performance was beautiful and we believe you have a lot of talent. We’d like to invite you to join our label to help make you shine and prosper. Please contact us at this number. We await your call.

Sincerely,

Rarity Records

A label wants to sign you! Your wildest dream is on the verge of coming true! You had to tell someone!

“Oh my god, I have to text Eita,” you spoke aloud. Unplugging your phone from the charging cord and unlocking it, you quickly tapped on the conversation and typed out your message. You were about to hit send until you remembered the situation you were in.

Semi still hasn’t contacted you and it made you question if that concluded the end of your friendship. You’re well aware that you directly told him not to speak to you but at the end of the day it’s not like you yelled at him and made it into a huge argument. You missed your best friend. You know you should text him, he probably doesn’t even realize what’s wrong but you were hurting too much internally to reach out to him, even if it was exciting news that you know he’d congratulate you on.

You deleted the message and connected your phone back to it’s cord and made your way to your blow dryer. Once you finished drying your hair you went back to your phone to turn on some music to listen to while you get ready.

You sang along to the song and all the songs after that as you were getting ready. The last step was to put on the dress that you had. It was a stunning red dress with some gems and lace here and there but the glam wasn’t overwhelming.

“Knock, knock. Can I come in?” Tendou asked from behind your door.

“It’s locked and I’m getting dressed! give me a second!” you answered. You had the dress on, just couldn’t zip it up completely. Giving up on your attempts you made your way towards the door to let your friend in. “Hey,” you greeted when you opened the door.

Tendou’s back was leaning against your door before so when you opened it he stumbled back a bit but was quick to catch his balance. He pivoted and looked up from his phone only to be welcomed by your beauty. His eyes went wide before opening his mouth to speak. “I- you look, wow.”

You gave a small chuckle before attempting to greet him again. “Hi, Tendou.”

“Hi..” he answered, still mesmerized. “Sorry, you look really beautiful tonight.”

“Thank you. I was nervous about the bright red but it turned out really nice. Oh, do you mind zipping it up and clasping it for me?” You asked as you twirled around to expose your back to him. He raised his hands to do as you asked, careful not to get the zipper caught. When he was done you turned your body once again and closed your door to leave with him. “Let’s go, I’m starving,” you laughed as you grabbed his wrist to pull him towards the parking lot, failing to notice the bush on his face.

-

Tendou and you arrived a little late to the dinner due to the fact that you were having too much fun chatting in the car that he missed the turn three times, but eventually you arrived to your destination.

“You’re late, Tendou,” Ushijima said when you both arrived to the table.

“Only fifteen minutes. Here you go, Y/n,” Tendou spoke as he pulled out your chair for you.

“Oh, thank you,” you blushed as he helped you settle into the group. The lineup went as Ushijima’s date, Ushijima, Tendou, and you next to him. On the other side was Semi’s date, Semi, Reon, and then Reon’s girlfriend, the girlfriend being across from you.

Throughout the dinner you had a smile on your face. It was definitely awkward at first since it was the first time you were seeing Semi in the past week. You decided to communicate as little as you needed with him, not to make a point, but to be polite. You didn’t need to somehow ruin anyone’s night in any way. You were all together to have fun and enjoy the little time you all had left together in high school.

While you were enjoying yourself and chatting with the other’s, Semi found himself glancing at you every once in a while. He was right to believe you and Tendou had something going on, Tendou wouldn’t stop bringing you up to him during practice. Tendou always had something positive to say about you and now here he was, at dinner with you as his date.

Good for him, Semi thought to himself. Tendou finally made a move on you and got what he wanted. He was happy for his friends, but he felt uneasy. Why hadn’t you ever expressed your thoughts of his friend to him? You always called him your best friend but you never spoke about Tendou to him, only saying he was a nice guy if asked.

It made him question why you were so upset with him when you asked about his girlfriend. It’s not like you told him about Tendou which is why he didn’t see the need to tell you about his girl. He’d been wanting to talk to you about it but knowing how hot headed you both can be he opted to waiting for you to confront him first. He thought giving you time would be the best option.

“Semi, you should eat more before we go,” his date told him, distracting him from his thoughts.

“Oh, you’re right,” he responded before picking up his utensils to continue eating.

Taking one last glance at your form, he had to admit it was the prettiest he’s ever seen you. Your hair was done differently, your dress looked fitting, and the red really made you look hot. Your smile screamed that you were having a good time, a sight he missed seeing.

“The party has arrived!” Tendou spoke when your group entered the main doors of the gymnasium. You laughed at his silliness until Ushijima spoke.

“We should take pictures.”

“Good idea, buddy,” Tendou agreed. You all made your way over to some props and took turns taking pictures. Some were just the guys, the others just the girls, then group, followed by individual. Luck was favoriting you, you didn’t have to take pictures for Semi because him and Reon partnered up. You and Tendou did multiple poses, Tendou claiming you guys needed one from all angles, as Ushijima took pictures.

As you were getting your pictures taken, Semi was taking pictures for Reon. His eyes kept darting between both parties, lingering more on you than the couple directly in front of him. Semi was lucky his girlfriend didn’t notice but his friend sure did. Reon could tell how bad Semi wanted to talk to you and he couldn’t understand why he didn’t. Semi was never one to keep his thoughts to himself unless if it had potential to hurt someone else.

Reon excused himself from his girlfriend and explained what he was doing to which she responded with a nod. “Can we talk?” Reon asked Semi once they decided they were done taking pictures.

“Come on, let’s dance!” Reon’s girlfriend told Semi’s date before grabbing her hand and dragging her to the dance floor.

“What did you wanna talk about?” a confused Semi asked Reon.

“What’s up with you?”

“What do you mean?”

“You have your girlfriend right next to you and you’re paying more attention to your best friend. That’s not okay dude. You’re lucky they haven’t noticed.”

“What are you talking about? I haven’t given Y/n any attention. We haven’t talked since last week,” Semi countered to which Reon sighed.

“Listen, you may not be aware you’re doing this, but since they joined us at dinner, you haven’t stopped looking at them. Why are your eyes wandering so much when you have a girlfriend right there?”

“I noticed too,” Ushijima spoke up.

“Have I been glancing at them that much?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t know what’s going on between you two, but you need to talk it out,” Reon stated. The three boys turned to find you in the sea of people.

“There,” Ushijima spoke while pointing at the red hair that stuck out. “Go.”

With a gentle push from his friends, Semi walked into the crowd, careful not to step on anyone’s feet while saying excuse me to make his way towards you.

-

“How are you feeling?” Tendou asked you. Both of you were currently swaying back and forth, his hands on your waist as you held his biceps.

“I’m good. Tonight’s been a lot of fun so far,” you smiled at him.

He returned the gesture before removing a hand from your waist to the back of your head to bring you closer to him before putting it back down. “That’s good, but how do you feel?” he asked again, making you realize what he was really asking.

“Hmm.” Taking a deep breath to think you responded. “I still feel hurt, but I can’t find myself to be mad at him. I don’t even care about that girl, I don’t know her and don’t plan to be her friend. I just have to accept that if he wanted me, he would’ve asked me. It’s a tough pill to swallow but it’s the truth. I wish I didn’t hold onto the little hope I had and just opened my eyes to see he clearly wasn’t interested. We were just best friends, erm- friends- we’re just friends.”

Tendou changed his hand placement again. The hand that previously touched your head was back as his other hand rubbed circles between your shoulder blades. You didn’t feel like crying, you already did all of that last week. You had no more tears left in you and you just wanted to move on from the situation.

You and Tendou didn’t speak for a while, just swayed and listened to the song that was playing. “Can I tell you something? Tendou broke the silence.

“Yeah. What is it?” you asked.

“This is probably a bad time to tell you all of this. Semi is a fool, and I’m not saying that just because of his fashion sense. I don’t understand why he didn’t make a move on you because I am about to.”

His last line made you move your head so you were now making eye contact with him. “What?”

“I see your value. You are a treasure. Silly rocker Semi has overlooked what a catch you are. I never interfered because I knew of your feelings for him. I understand I’d just be a second option for you, a rebound if you will, but I’m willing to take any opportunity to get to know you better. I like you, Y/n. Can we get to know each other better?”

You were shocked. You knew Tendou as the friendly sightly crazy middle blocker on the volleyball team. You knew him as a class clown. You knew him as Semi’s friend. You never would’ve expected this moment to ever happen.

Tendou leaned a little closer to you which made you think fast. At the end of the day, you had nothing to lose, you already lost the guy you really loved. Leaning in as well, your lips connected. Unfortunately, it was at that moment Semi reached you both. It was at that moment Semi finally realized how he felt about you, but he didn’t feel like taking away the happiness from his friends for his own selfish feelings.

“Whoa dude, what happened?” Reon asked his teammate when he came back with a scowl on his face.

“I feel like a fucking idiot.”

—————

a/n: damn, this was supposed to be a Semi fic but here I am feeding the Tendou stans. Oopsies. ALSO I DID NOT THINK IT WOULD BE THIS LONG (and poorly edited again so another oopsies)

Tag: @pluviophilefangirl

#haikyu #haikyuu!! #semi eita x reader #semi haikyuu #semi eita #semi x reader #haikyu angst #haikyu x reader

[geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde]

Femdom Universe - Part 1

Hello loves! 

This series will be ??? parts long but all fics should be able to be read as standalone. This universe will mostly follow around Yennefer though it will focus on other characters in the universe at times! I have a few more parts drafted out and idk how long they will take me to post but they’re coming.

This is Geralt/Yennefer in a modern AU, Yen in a Pro-Domme, Geralt is one of her established clients.

Warnings: Dom/Sub, cock cage, discussions of orgasm denial, mentions of spanking, praise kink, subspace, no actual sex, soft domme Yen, just generally all around very soft

-

Yennefer opened the door and smiled at the man before her, Geralt had been a client of hers for well over a year at this point and in that time had also become a good friend. Her first client after moving to the city and her first real friend in much longer.

She turned on her heel, her dressing gown flowing out behind her, and stalked over to the seating area, making herself comfortable in one of the overstuffed chairs.

Geralt followed behind her at a sedated pace.

"You're late." She said simply once he had settled on the couch across from her.

"There was an emergency at work. Got held up."

Yennefer blinked slowly, unimpressed.

"I know, I'm sorry. I'll call if it happens again."

Yennefer raised a well-manicured eyebrow.

Geralt sighed, "When it happens again."

Yennefer nodded, satisfied with his response. She knew his job was a priority, and very demanding. It was why he had first began experimenting with submission, needing to let go, not be forced to be responsible and in control all the time. But just because she understood didn't mean that he had an excuse to not communicate when he would be late.

"Now," she began, taking a sip of water, "you mentioned last night that you thought of some last-minute changes to the scene? Something new you wanted to try?"

Geralt blushed and nodded.

Yennefer wouldn't normally allow last minute changes that added new elements, much preferring the chance to talk with her clients about it and making sure they were making a fully informed choice, but she had worked with Geralt long enough to trust he had done his research.

And most likely had sat on this idea for weeks, probably months, before feeling brave enough to suggest it.

She was confident that he would ask questions if he had them and be honest with her if things weren't going well.

"Alright so what are you thinking?"

Geralt's blush deepened.

Even despite the year they had spent together having regular sessions, the man was still one of the most bashful people Yennefer had ever met.

"You mentioned once… putting me in a… cage. And I said I would think about it. And I have. And I want to… try it."

Yennefer smirked, "You think you're ready to try a cock cage?"

Geralt nodded.

"Use your words, love."

"Yes, Yen. I'm ready to try the cock cage."

"Perfect. I already have a couple purchased I thought you might like. Now, will you want it left on through the whole scene, or will you want me to release you and give you relief?"

Geralt grunted, his face a lovely pink color.

"Geralt, do you want to cum or do you want me to deny you."

"Deny me."

"If you end up getting aroused and you cum, do you want a punishment?"

Geralt shook his head and cleared his throat, "No… just… maybe some disappointment?"

Yennefer smiled, "Alright then. We can keep the rest of the scene as planned but add a cage and deny your orgasm, correct?"

"Yes. That's what I want."

"Perfect. Go on back and get comfortable. Kneel by the bed when you're ready. I'll have to go get the cages for you to choose from, but I'll be back shortly."

Cages weren't something she was sure Geralt would ever be interested in and she couldn't deny feeling thrilled he was willing to try her with this, to trust her.

-

Yennefer watched happily as Geralt's eyes beamed with interest as they looked over the cages. His eyes kept travelling back to the silver one. The other one, a black plastic one with a more detailed shaping, just didn't seem to be catching his eye. He traced the rings on the silver one with his gaze and Yennefer smiled.

"This one?" Yennefer asked, holding up the silver one in her hand.

"Yes." His voice already sounded wrecked and they hadn't even done anything yet.

"Yes what, darling?"

Geralt glanced up to meet Yennefer's gaze before quickly affixing his eyes to his lap, "Yes, Mistress."

Yennefer hummed happily, "Well done, darling. Now get on the bed and lie back, let's get this on you."

Geralt scrambled on the bed, his muscles shifting attractively.

Geralt was certainly the most attractive man Yennefer had ever worked with, possibly the most attractive person she had ever worked with, even.

And one of the best at following orders.

He laid back quickly, shifting into the position she always had him take with ease. His arms were relaxed and by his sides, his hands resting next to his thighs which were parted just enough Yennefer could slide between them easily.

He made a pretty picture.

Yen crawled onto the bed demurely, dressed in an elegant silken robe, and settled between his thighs, rubbing his right thigh comfortingly.

His cock began to stir.

"No, no, none of that. Let's get this cage on before we can't, shall we?"

Geralt nodded at Yennefer's question.

"Alright, love, your word and the rules and we'll get started."

"My safe word is unicorn and if I say it, everything stops, and we immediately move to after care. If I can't say my word, I squeeze your upper arm."

"Excellent work, darling. Now let's get started." She held a key out for Geralt to take with a tentative hand, "There is a key in the packaging, there by your head, and this is the other. Once I lock you up, you can keep the key if you prefer, or you can entrust it to me. It's your choice and I don't mind either way."

Geralt nodded, holding the key tightly.

Yennefer quickly slipped the base of the toy down, the ring fitting snuggly against the base of his cock and wrapping behind his balls.

She gave Geralt's cock a teasing stroke, making him suck in a sharp breath, before slipping on the cage, applying a gentle pressure until the base met the cage and she could lock the two together. She snapped the lock closed and looked up at Geralt with a smile, "All done."

Wordlessly, Geralt held the key out for her to take which she did with a gentle smile gracing her features. His trust was a heady thing to have and she was thrilled to have it.

She placed the key in a small pouch in the pocket of her robe for safe keeping and looked back up at Geralt.

Yennefer traced her hands up and down Geralt's thighs, admiring the way the muscles jumped under her touch.

"Hmm… you look excellent splayed out for me like this, love. Now, I'm going to play with you to my heart's content, and you aren't allowed to cum."

When Geralt had first come to her, he hadn't been particularly comfortable with giving up control and he had hated being doted on like this, her hands and eyes on him, appreciative.

Now, he shivered in delight with every pass of her hands.

She straddled his thigh and ran her hands up his hips, skirting just around where his cock lay, growing hard within its cage, tracing her hands up his abdomen, focusing on the hard lines and ridges.

Businessmen didn't normally look like Geralt, muscles built upon muscles, a beautifully trim waist that led up to deliciously thick shoulders.

Geralt's breathing was growing more and more shallow as she continued touching him, going slightly higher on his abdomen before trailing her fingertips back down to his hips and working her way back up. His cock twitched as best it could in the weight of the cage and Geralt rolled his hips.

Yennefer quickly pressed her hands flat against his hips, leaning her weight against them, "I didn't tell you, you could move, did I?"

Geralt whimpered and shook his head.

Yennefer pinched him on the hip, "What was that?"

"No, Mistress."

"You want to be good for me, don't you, Geralt?"

A whine, "Yes, Mistress."

"Then stay still, darling. Bad boys don't get what they want."

Geralt had shown early on he didn't particularly enjoy pain or punishments, not that he would have needed them often, he was eager to please, eager to receive praise. Although, he had always been rather fond of a good spanking.

But not this session, he simply wanted to lose himself and enjoy Yennefer's power over him, caring for him.

Geralt's hands clinched by his sides and he nodded, "Yes, Mistress. I'll be good."

"Good boy," Yennefer purred, moving her hands up his body to tweak his nipples in reward, making him moan loudly.

"That's right darling, let me hear you. You make the prettiest noises."

And so her hands continued tracing delicate patterns on his body, holding tightly around his throat for only a moment, just long enough to make his eyes go glassy with need, before focusing once again on his chest.

Yennefer wasn't sure how long she spent worshiping him with her fingers before finally, "Turn over, darling."

Geralt didn't hesitate to follow orders though his movements were slow and languid, the way he always got when he slipped into a submissive space. He settled on his stomach and Yennefer moved to straddle his waist, rubbing at his neck and shoulders. Despite how relaxed he was, the tension he carried was deep and no matter her efforts, Yennefer had never truly been able to get all the knots out.

"Would you like a massage, darling?" She asked softly, not wanting to jar him with any pain it might cause.

"No, Mistress."

Yennefer hummed, happy he was willing to communicate his wants when at one time she thought she would have to stop working with him because of how hard communication was for him.

She continued tracing his back until his breathing had evened out. She knew he wasn't asleep but he was certainly out of it. It had been at least an hour since they had begun so she decided that it was time to start bringing Geralt back.

With some soft words and touches, she got him situated on his side so she could slide in behind him, spooning him delicately.

"Geralt," she whispered, "are you hear with me, love?"

He nodded softly.

"Would you like to nap?"

Another nod.

“Do you want to take the cage off now? Or wait?”

“Wait,” Geralt whispered.

"Is this position alright?"

Geralt didn't respond for a moment before finally rolling over slowly in her arms until he could cuddle up to her side, pillowing his head softly on her breast, "Did I do well, Mistress?"

"Excellent darling. You were such a good boy for me."

Geralt smiled sleepily, his eyes already closed, and Yennefer held him gently while he drifted off to sleep.

-

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