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bafflement · 10 months

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Deaged Oz AU - Making New Friends [And Maybe a Few Enemies]

For @maskyartist since you wanted to see just what happens when Tip gets angry. :P

"HEY, FREAK!" An angry yell echoes off the narrow walls of the alley. Lily just ran faster, hoping that she'd be able to outrun her bullies for once. It had happened before, even though it hadn't lasted long in the end. As a Faunus in Mantle, though, she was used to this sort of treatment.

She tripped, stumbling and catching herself on the wall which was all her pursuers needed to catch up with her. Bracing herself for the blows she was surprised to hear another yell from the other end of the alley.

Glancing up, she spied a small, silver haired human boy who looked absolutely furious. A blink and he'd vanished, though. Maybe he was with the others? She hadn't seen him before but there were always more where they came from.

Her main tormentor bought a fist back for the first punch, but even as he lashed out, a figure blocked her sight. It was the boy, but why would he get between her and the bully?

Tip let the older boy hit him, glancing in concern down at the small Faunus girl they had been chasing. He knew how bad things were in Mantle of course, but knowing wasn't the same as seeing. The tiny girl looked half starved, yet these idiots were planning to beat her? No. Not on his watch.

"What exactly do you think you're doing to ny friend?" He spat, feeling a cold anger rising in his gut and not even bothering trying to suppress it. The little girl looked shocked, but he tried to shoot her a reassuring smile in between glaring at the bully. One hand strayed down to the hilt of Old Regrets, and he pulled about an inch of the rapier out of the sheath, knuckles a tight white with fury.

The bully, seeing that, stepped back a pace.

"Who the hell are you and what is she to you? You're not her friend, she doesn't have friends! She's just a filthy Faunus, she doesn't deserve them!"

Tip stomped one small foot, feeling himself start to shake again, though this time it was definitely anger fuelling it.

"She has me. I'm Winter Schnee, by the way." He said it flatly, hoping the split second decision wasn't going to come back to bite him.

"Why would a Schnee care about something like her?"

"I do. Now go away or I'll show you just how well i can use this." He shifted his stance, standing protectively over Liy and drew the blade fully, his eyes afire.

The bullies looked at each other, looked at the small boy wielding what was obviously a Huntsman's weapon, then thought better of the situation, backing away before taking off running.

There was silence for a few seconds, then Tip moved nearer the little girl, who backed up as far as she could, staring up at him with wide, scared eyes.

"Please don't hurt me?"

"I would never do that." Tip's voice was shaking, too, now. He hadn't really been expecting that, and looking back... had he almost thrown a tantrum? He blushed slightly, embarrassed, but just held out a hand to the girl, waiting.

After a minute or so, she took it, bracing herself for another blow. Tip just helped her to her feet, smiling gently.

"I'm Tip. Tip Pine, and you are?"

"But... you said you were a Schnee..."

"Ah, yes. Well, I thought it might make them think twice and it does appear to have worked, so... ready to get out of the alley?"

"You talk kinda funny."

"I'm not from Mantle, therefore my accent is slightly different. Have you learned about kingdoms yet?"

He smiled as this seemed to unleash a torrent of questions from the small girl and he led her out of the alley, grinning up at the others who didn't look massively impressed.

"Pocketsized... you can't just run off like that, what if you'd been hurt?" Jaune sounded worried but also more than slightly resigned at this point. After all, it wasn't the first time Tip had gone off somewhere.

"I wasn't. And I was just in time to stop someone else being hurt so I would count that as a victory, personally. Guys, this is... I'm sorry, i don't think I ever got your name?"

"Lily." She muttered, shyly, staring around at all the armed teenagers in front of her. Blake had elected not to come on this particular excursion and Weiss tended to avoid Mantle, but the others all just smiled at her in welcome.

"Hi, Lily!" Oscar greeted, bouncing slightly. "I'm Oscar, Tip's my brother. It's okay, you're safe now, nobody's going to hurt you while we're around!

"Aww, Pocketsized, are you making new friends without us, now?" Nora cooed, winking at a still visibly embarrassed Tip.

"Maybe? She needed help, Nora, I couldn't just leave her there, they were about to hit her!" Tip's voice rose in pitch slightly as he spoke, though from the way his eyes widened, it had been unintentional.

"Regular knight in shining armor, huh, kid..." was Yang's contribution, though she looked amused.

"I think it's cute." Ruby said, grinning over at Tip who would rather like the floor to swallow him now, please.

"You can stay with us for awhile, if you like? It might mean the bullies stay further away for a little bit, why were they following you, anyway?"

"They don't like that I'm not human... it's Mantle, though, mummy said I needed to get used to it."

Tip's eyes went strangely hard at that. "Thinking about it, there's someone I know you should probably meet. The problem is, he's in Atlas and your family would be worried if we just took you! Would you be able to show us where you live? If nothing else, we should check that it's a safe place to be."

Jaune sighed a bit at that, but they all followed a nervous looking Lily as she led them to her home. it wasn't too bad to look at, really. Unlike the dwellings on either side, it appeared well maintained and hopefully that meant that the walls were solid against the sheer cold that Mantle tended to exude.

An older woman in a tattered apron opened the door, then screamed in real terror as she stared at the humans on the other side. Lily rushed to her, clinging to the apron.

"It's okay, mummy! They're my friends, they rescued me from the bad boys!"

"... oh?" The mother sounded suspicious, scanning over the group of young hunters, gaze briefly lingering on tip, who shifted slightly.

"Thank you for rescuing my daughter." She said, eventually, though she still looked suspicious.

"We're hunters, ma'am, it's what we do. I was wondering, however, whether it may be advisable to gain a meeting with Marrow? I'm certain he would want to help as much as he could."

The woman blinked. "You can just casually contact an Ace Operative, can you?"

"Yes, ma'am, I can. I'm Wintertip Pine, by the way." Tip held out a hand, but she didn't take it, scanning his face again. Her eyes widened and her tail twitched in sudden realisation.

"... Winter?" She sounded strangely choked even as Tip's own eyes widened too. Had he known her, somehow?

"Yes, ma'am?" he asked, his voice as level as he could make it.

"Thank you. Just... thank you. Do you have contact information, at all? My husband will want to thank you himself."

"Of course." Tip murmured, rattling off his contact number.

"You can really get us in contact with Specialist Amin?"

"I can indeed, ma'am."

"Foxglove, not ma'am, young one. I have questions, but not today, I suspect? I'll be in contact." She smiled and shut the door, behind it they could already hear Lily start her rapid fire questioning again.

"You do realise that that's gonna spread, right? You just... I really hope you know what you're doing."

"Yes, well. So do I."

#deaged oz au #ozpin #he smol #and angry #and protective #new friends #faunus #rwby #fantastic racism #jaune arc #nora valkyrie #oscar pine #ruby rose #yang xiao long #li ren

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usaigi · 1 year

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Chapter 2 - Deal With The Devil

Read on Ao3 | ⇜previous chapter | next chapter⇝

Summary (T) Earth 65 AU where Elektra is Daredevil and was hell-bent on killing her ex Matt Murd(er)ock but she’s in therapy now and is channeling her energy into helping Spider-Women defeat him instead. Semi-comics/Marvel movies crossover. Elektra and Matt are mostly based on the Netflix version and Gwen is based on Into the Spiderverse.

“Can I ask why Murdock specifically? I know he’s related to Fisk but I thought you took care of Fisk. And surely there are other people high up in the crime syndicate pyramid scheme.”

“Cut off the head another takes its place. Murdock is just picking up where Fisk left off.”

“So ah. Ok this is going to sound like super ableist but Murdock is blind, right? I totally get how he can still be a leader of the mob with like accommodation and stuff but. Can’t we just,” Gwen punches the air a couple of times.

Gwen never had the fortune of fighting Fisk herself but hearing from her dad, that man is built like an unmovable wall. Even if he hadn’t been legally untouchable for the last decade until Daredevil swopped in, he’s strength was borderline superhuman. And apparently, he has the temper of a child, with tantrums loud enough to flip cars. And they say girls are emotional.

So what exactly is Elektra so concerned about? Murdock is just a dude. Kinda look like a Chad but in a rich kid I-went-to-Columbia-and-played-polo way. Probably owns a pair of pastel-colored shorts.

“You’ve never fought him?” Elektra asks, eyes squinting slightly.

“No? I don’t make it a habit in fighting people with disabilities,” Gwen says, causing Elektra to break out into a wry laugh, turning away to hide her face from Gwen. Guess she finds ableism funny. Canceled.

“The chemicals that blinded him also enhanced his remaining sense, his earring, smell, touch, and taste. They all like work together to create a sort of radar. You know, like the blind girl from Avatar. Combine that with his years of martial arts training with the Hand, he’s a deadly opponent.”

“The what?”

“The Hand. Yeah I know, stupid name. Cults always have dumb names,” heh true. What kind of dumb name is Scientology? What’s scientific about paying a buttload of money to reach enlightenment? Just smoke a blunt and look at the city lights like everyone else. “We’re called the Chaste so it’s not like it’s any better,”

“Who is we?” Gwen asks, tilting her head ever so slightly. Wait, is Elektra also in a cult?

“You want a role call or what?” Elektra says dryly.

“I mean, I’d like to know who’s on my team. Like what if someone joins us and I think they’re with Murdock and I accidentally punch them,” Gwen asks.

“Then you apologize..?”

“Well yeah but–”

“You don’t have to worry about that now, tonight's thing is just us.” Tonight? Don’t worry about it? Gwen was under the impression that Elektra was going to train on something, not jump straight into a mission. And for someone who scolded her yesterday for being reckless, the ‘plan’ is as vague as a punk show poster. Band: Spider-Women and Daredevil. Time: sometime after ten and before we’re all corporate slaves to The Man …The Hand? BYOW (Bring Your Own Weapons).

“Ok so. Murdock took Fisk's spot at the Kingpin?”

“Sorta. I think he’s still taking some orders from Fisk but Murdock has his own agenda. Fisk is just a capitalist, Murdock is connected with the Hand.”

“And what does the Hand want?”

“What does any secret ninja want? World control or immortality or something.”

“And what does your cult want?”

“You’ve seen Midsommar, right?” Blink blink, sorry what? “Kidding, duh. You’re so serious. The Chast isn’t a cult. It’s a thousand-year-old organization aiming to stop the Hand,” Elektra ‘clarifies,’ heavy on the air quotes. No one in a cult ever admits to being in a cult.

“Quacks like a cult, walks like a cult,” Gwen says shrugging, throwing her hands up. “Hey, no judgment! I know you Hollywood people are into some weird crap.” Is anyone else in it? It would be kinda cool if Elliphant is in the cult. Maybe Gwen would be down to join the cult if there are cool people in it.

“Bestie, if you wanna join, you’re in,” Elektra gives her a playful wink. “Ok, today’s mission should be easy enough, my sources say Murdock’s at a party on the Upper East side so we don’t have to worry about him. The Hand is expecting an important delivery, some sort of weapon. Murdock paid the tracksuit mafia to meet his guys at the docks. Plan is I’m going to fight the Hand and you’re going to swing in a couple of minutes later and help with the tracksuits. I want Murdock to think there’s a mole working with the tracksuits and to turn against them. Or at least think they’re incompetent. Since this is our first team-up, he’ll have no suspicion that we coordinated the attack–”

“Wait, last question,” Gwen interrupts.

“Yeah?”

“How do you know so much about Murdock?” Elektra really seems to know Murdock, his location, his thought patterns. Not to accuse her of being a mole but… Elektra is a stranger who found her in a dumpster.

“It’s ugh whatever,” Elektra stutters. Pull her scarf up to hide her face in a hurry.

Oh!

“No way,” Gwen gasps. “No. Fucking. Way.”

“I don’t like how much you curse.” Gwen can see Elektra's transparent attempt to change the subject.

“You slept with Murdock!?”

“No no, it’s worse. I dated him.”

“You what!? How long? Why? When? WHY!?”

“Long time. You do dumb stuff when you’re young and in love. Wait, how old are you?”

“Seventeen.”

“Brutal.” Yeah, that's fair. “If the mission goes well we can have brunch and gossip tomorrow but, let’s go Spider-Women.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“Ok, plan. You’re going down there and you’re going to fight those dudes in black and my dudes are the ones in the tracksuits, right? But like when I swing in, you’re gonna start fighting all the dudes right? And that must be the container with the weapon, right DD?” Elektra’s gone? Gwen looks around, confused. “Daredevil?”

Oh.

There is she.

Slicing through one guy and kicking another guy in the face. Thanks for the heads up. They didn’t even get to say, “Go team!”

The tracksuits are hiding out being some containers, shooting chaotically at Murdock’s guys– oh they really are ninjas, with masks and swords and everything. Not just some Naruto cosplayers, they seem legit.

Although, if anyone care to consult Gwen, the Hand ninjas and the Russian Tracksuit guys should totally switch uniforms so the ninjas can look like the lady from Kill Bill.

Gwen keeps a close eye on Elektra, observing her fight style. Like herself, Elektra increments a lot of acrobatics, varying from flips to jump kicks. But where Gwen has a background in dance, Elektra looks like she has a background in Taekwondo or Capoeira. Every move is deliberate, every move is dripped with confidence and power. Quick and efficient punches to major pressure points. Elektra fights like a tiger–hiding behind obstacles and blending into the shadows before prancing on her victim, and kneeing them right in the neck.

Ouch.

Surely it’s been enough time? Has it? Maybe Gwen would know if Elektra actually went over the plan but it’s fine . It’s fine!

Gwen, you came in too soon, MJ’s voice echoes.

Never too early for a badass dumb solo.

One-two-three, Spider-Women swings in. Kick one guy and push him into another, causing them to trip over a pile of trash as she lands gracefully on the top of a shipping container. Guitar lick, the crowd cheers, and, “hey guys.” It’s Spider-Women, woosh. “Love the tracksuits, so Y2K. Are they Juicy Coutier?”

Gwenhe thwaps one gun out of one tracksuit's hand and throws it at another dude's face, hitting him right in the noise. She webs one dude and webs this other guy and bop.

“Come on, guys! At least make the fight juicy!”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The fight doesn’t make long, despite being outmatched, the Hand and the tracksuits are severally outskilled. Gwen is careful not to get too close to Elektra, hoping that none of the goons think they’re coordinating this. Still, she does web one guy's sword out of the way, giving Elektra a perfect opening.

“Thanks,” she just says.

Soon enough, someone shouts something in Japanese and someone else says something in Russian and they all skirt away. Gwen tries to run after them before Elektra stops her.

“Help me open the container instead,” Elektra says, prying the door. Gwen helps before peeking her head in, anxiously anticipating a legendary sword or spear or bomb.

Not this. Anything but this.

“It’s just a kid…” Gwen says apprehensively, “Elektra, he’s just a kid.”

“...Fuck. I ah–I ahh I have a friend on the police force. I’ll call him and the paramedics. Can you stay with him?” She nods, putting her hands up before carefully approaching the boy. Poor kid couldn’t be more than ten years old, fear painting his face.

“Hi,” Gwen says softly, “hi, don’t be scared, I’m not going to hurt you. Here–” she crouches down. “What’s your name?”

“Peter…”

“Oh ah that’s so cool. That’s my best friends name…” her voice drops, fear creeping up her throat. “And he’s one of the most amazing people I’ve ever met. He taught me something important, do you want to learn what is it?” She waits until Peter gives a nervous nod. “Everyone is capable of being special. Just like you. You’re special and that’s why we rescued you.”

“I want my parents…”

“I know, I know. We’re going to help you find them. We’re going to help you. Do you trust us?”

He nods shakily.

“Good.”

Gwen holds the little boy close til the ambulance sirens creep in, helping the paramedic transfer him on the stretcher. She uses a bit of webbing to pull the shock blanket up, earning her the tiniest smile from Peter. Totally worth it.

The assisting cops scatter around the crime scene, and Elektra stands off in the corner to talk to her friend? Oh crap, Castle. Ahh. Seriously Elektra, of all the people you could be friends with why him? Though maybe she shouldn’t be too surprised in her poor judgment, Elektra did date and probably make lots kisses and smoochies and yuck to Murdock.

Peter’s safe now, surely Elektra will understand why she’s webbing away. She sends Elektra a quick text asking her to meet her on the same roof top.

Gwen climbs up the side of a building before launching her web, swinging off like the badass she is.

—

“Wow! That was so cool! I can’t believe it! Sorry I dipped, Castle totally terrifies me, hold thing that we don’t need to get into but that was so cool! The way you used your pitchfork things–” Gwen blathers as soon as Elektra shows up.

“My sais?”

“Is that what they’re called? Cool! But yeah! Thank you!”

“No problem.”

“Do you think we can visit the kid tomorrow in the hospital? I mean as civilians, totally weird if Daredevil and Spider-Women showed up for visitation–”

“I’m sure we can,” Elektra smiles.

“I guess I should introduce myself then. Properly,” Gwen pulls her mask off, revealing her million-dollar smile, and extends her hand. “I’m Gwen Stacy.”

“I know. I googled your phone number. Remind me to get you a burner phone. But it’s nice to meet you, Gwen Stacy, I’m Elektra,” taking her hand with an equally sincere smile.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

So yay, they saved the day. Go Team Spider-Woman and Daredevil. A cooler-and-more-stylish Batman and Robin (Gwen being Batman of course). Girl Power! Yippee.

Can two girls share the cover for Forbes thirty under thirty? Meh, she’ll email Mr. Forbes himself tomorrow morning. Will Elektra let her borrow a fancy dress for their press interview? Maybe something aqua. With sparkles. And biker shorts because ya never know.

Changing into her old band shirt and pair of shorts, Gwen flops–not lays gracefully, not awkwardly climbs in– flops onto her bed. Ahh her back felt so crunchy she should really stretch before sleep but she’s so exhausted. She hugs one of her Squishmellows and opens up youtube, queues up a video of Watcher, and waits for her eyelids to feel too heavy.

Brrrring.

Huh?

Elektra?

“Hello,” Gwen grumbles.

“Oh thank God, are you ok? Where are you?” Elektra sounds like she’s out of breath like she’s in the middle of a fight. But no, the fight just ended. They won.

“I’m home. Why, what’s going on?”

“Someone got the kid. Gwen, I’m so sorry…”

What…?

#daredevil #matt murdock #spider man #elektra #elektra natchios #earth 65 #spider gwen #gwen stacy #into the multiverse #into the spider verse #marvel #usaigi speaks

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yandere-daydreams · 3 years

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Title: Closed Casket.

Commissioned by the very lovely @99shadowcat99.

Pairing: Yandere!Demon Brothers/Reader (Obey Me).

Word Count: 2.4k.

TW: Toxic Relationships, Dehumanization, Codependence, Threats of Violence, Mentions of Death, Implied Imprisonment.

It was a closed-casket funeral.

For such a small detail, it bothered you more than it had any right to. You hadn’t been the one to arrange it, the one to speak to the undertaker and evaluate the damage – that was a responsibility that fell to her fiancé rather than you, a distant cousin, only brought up in conversations about postponed friendships and quickly thinning family trees. You’d done what you could to help, what a last living relative should do to help - paying for flower arrangements, speaking to financial advisors, sorting through her belongs and trying to guess at what might’ve held some sentimental value to someone more present in her life, but you never saw the body. No one ever offered, and you hadn’t known how to ask. She was gone, now, dead and buried, and you'd never gotten to see her, even if everyone who had said that it was probably for the best.

And it probably was. They were probably right. You wouldn’t feel any better, if you had.

And yet, you found it difficult to believe you could feel any worse than you did now, either.

Belphegor was curled around your arm. He had been since you came back from the Human World, slotted against your side, draped over your shoulders, and currently, splayed out on top of you, his face buried in the flesh just above your shoulder blade, his body forcibly tangled with yours in a way that was too awkward to be comfortable for both of you, a sacrifice he seemed more than willing to make on your behalf. You’d tried to shrug him off earlier, when he first decided there was enough space on the smallest loveseat in the common room for his strange, daily ritual, and when that failed, you’d tried to talk him into letting go, into loosening his grip enough for you to slip away when he fell asleep, into relocating to somewhere else, somewhere softer, somewhere with a pillow that could easily replace you when he was too busy tossing and turning to care, but Belphegor had always been so frustratingly picky when it came to where, how, and when he chose to sleep.

He’d chosen you, and he’d chosen like this, and he’d chosen now. There was little you could do to change his mind, after he’d already made it up.

Still, you tried. He wasn’t asleep yet, caught somewhere between permanently half-conscious state and a sleep deep enough to warrant medical concern for most living creatures, supernaturally inclined or otherwise. “Belphie,” You called, gently, pushing the temptation to try more forceful methods into the back of your mind. “Think you pick another spot? Just for today?”

“Can’t.” It was a simple response, his voice heavy with sourceless exhaustion, just as short and just as blunt as it had been the last time you asked. You weren’t sure what you’d expected, honestly. “You were gone. I can’t.”

Your frown deepened. You’d left for a week – nine days, at most. And Belphegor couldn’t have been awake for more than half of that. “That’s not--”

“He was lonely, sweetheart.” It was Asmodeus, this time, as he perched himself on the loveseat’s arm. He wasn’t any better than Belphie, nimble fingertips soon tracing aimless patterns over the side of your neck, the dip of your shoulder, taking up the space he could occupy since the space he’d like to was already in-use. “He’ll get better, in a few days. Once it sinks in that you won't be leaving again.”

You were out of practice. A month ago, you would’ve known better than to respond, than to ask questions to someone who took as much delight in festering doubts as Asmodeus did. A month ago, you would’ve brushed him off and found your way to Purgatory Hall for the rest of the night. But, it wasn’t a month ago, and you were tired. You were still thinking about that casket, and you couldn’t seem to think of much else. “What do you mean?”

“Oh?” There was a pause, a laugh, light and melodic and fluttering. You’d always liked his laugh. You could bring yourself to enjoy it, though, not right now. “No one’s told you, yet?”

“Don’t tease ‘em.” You hadn’t noticed how full the common room had gotten, not until Mammon spoke and you reflexively turned to face the sofa opposite to yours. He was standing, leaning against the back, his hands clasped in a way that’d put his anxiety on display far more transparently than his voice ever could. Beelzebub, too, his arms crossed over his chest as his attention shifted idly between you, the console in Leviathan’s hands, and the book splayed out in Satan's lap, his scowl serving as evidence of his annoyance. It always bothered you, how easily he grew frustrated by situations he chose to put himself in. It bothered you a little more, today. “Might as well spit it out, if you’re going to bring it up,” Mammon went on, shifting his weight, letting his eyes fall to the floor, then rise to the ceiling, then drift back to you. “There’s no point putting it off.”

“Weren’t you supposed to tell them, Mammon?” Beelzebub chimed in, absent-mindedly. If it'd been Satan, if it'd been Lucifer, it would’ve been pointed, malicious, purposeful. Beelzebub just sounded like he was trying to remind his older brother of something he’d forgotten. “You said you should be the one to do it, since you met them first. Then, when Lucifer said you wouldn’t be able to do it, you said that if the human threw a tantrum, you could just--”

“I didn’t say shit.” Mammon cut him off, his tone hostile, but it was a half-hearted anger, more petty than vengeful. “I said I could, not that I would, and Lucifer shot me down. If he hadn’t, there’d already be a deadbolt on every fucking door in the house. We wouldn’t be sitting around, talkin’ about it.”

“Every door?” Beelzebub looked confused. Then, he looked concerned. “I thought we agreed to just seal the exits.”

“I still think we should just use their bedroom,” Leviathan chimed in, never looking up from his hand-held. Something tightened in the back of your throat. Experimentally, you tried to pull yourself out of Belphegor’s arms, but he only held you tighter, and Asmodeus’ nails dug into your shoulder, rooting you back into place without a single word. “It’d be cool, kinda like a permanent save-point. We wouldn’t have to worry about baby-proofing the entire house, either.”

“We could use a leash,” Asmodeus suggested, never breaking his stare. He didn’t look away. You wished he would. You wished they’d, if nothing else, have the courtesy to wait until you’d left the room to start talking about things you didn’t know and didn’t want to know. “So we can make sure they’re always close by! Or, we could have Lucifer enchant a collar – having to hold a tether might get in way when I have to--”

“He’d never do it.” It was the first time Satan had cut in, but it was clear he’d been listening. His book was still open, his expression still concentrated, but he was tapping his foot, the disruption soundless against the thick carpeting, and you couldn’t remember the last time he thought to pretend to turn a page. He was listening, but he didn’t want to be. He was a part of this, but you doubted he’d every say as much out loud. You doubted he’d ever let himself admit he’d stooped to that level. “And if he did, we’d never hear the end of it. In a week, there’d probably be a new kennel in the catacombs, right next to Ceberus’.” He stopped, for a moment, shaking his head. For your own sake, your chose to believe the envy lingering behind his voice was his attempt at a bad joke. “You would prefer a bedroom, wouldn’t you, (Y/n)?”

He asked you a question. He was talking to you, now, directly, which was more than you could say for any of his brothers. It should’ve been an improvement. An opportunity, if nothing else, a chance to ask why Asmodeus was looking at you like that, why you could feel Belphegor’s careless smile pressing into your skin, but you hesitated, something catching in your chest. It felt too solid, too heavy, too rough and too jagged. It felt like it’d hurt to swallow down, later on, once the unease passed and you got over whatever scheme they’d planned out, while you were gone.

“I… What?” You weren’t sure what you wanted to say, but it came out as a question regardless, your reluctance blending messily with your confusion. “This isn’t funny. If you’re going to act like this every time I visit the Human World, I might have to stop coming back.”

Finally, Satan glanced up from his book. If you didn’t know better, you might’ve said he was smiling. “Right. Because you still think you're allowed to leave.”

The rest of the room fell silent. Or, maybe it didn’t, maybe it was louder than it'd ever been. You didn’t know. You couldn't hear anything, not over the sudden ringing in your ears. “I’ll have to, eventually. It’s not up to me.”

Beelzebub shifted in his seat, suddenly uncomfortable. “It’d be safer if you stayed in the Devildom. We can’t protect you in the Human World.”

Leviathan’s grip tightened around his console. In the background, you could hear the plastic shell start to crack. “We wouldn’t be able to see you. Not all the time. Not for more than a few weeks at a time.” He was quiet, for a moment. Then, he added, “It wouldn’t be the same. It wouldn’t… It wouldn’t feel like it does when you’re here.”

Mammon looked away, letting his head lull to the side. “You belong here, with us. You’re supposed to be here. We’re just doin’ you a favor. No one wants to watch you figure out how fucked you’d be on your own.”

And, finally, Belphegor groaned, exhaustion heavy in the gravely sound. He untangled himself from you, but the freedom was temporary, fleeting, his arms snaking around your waist, instead, his face soon gracelessly buried in your chest. His eyes flickered open, but barely, just enough to let him stare up at you through his eyelashes, a thoughtless grin pulling at the corners of his lips. He wasn’t divided, not like his brothers were. He didn’t try to pretend he was above holding you against your will. “You're not leaving again.” It wasn’t a question. It wasn’t even a threat. It was just a fact, to him. It was something that wouldn’t happen, that couldn’t happen, if only because his older brothers were willing to work so hard to make sure it didn’t. “We’re not gonna share you, anymore. We’re not gonna have to.”

You didn’t want to hear anything else. You didn’t want to be here, anymore, not if this was what it meant, not if it was going to feel like standing in front of that closed casket all over again, the urge to run and sob and scream silencing every reasonable thought you’d ever had. You didn’t bother trying to talk to Asmodeus and Belphegor, you didn’t bother trying to coo and edge and skirt around their anger, their unspoken threats, not anymore, not when your body was already standing on its own, shoving at Belphegor’s body and swatting at Asmodeus’ hand as he reached out, aiming to cup your cheek and tell you so gently to sit down and shut up. Beelzebub leaned forward, Mammon flinched, and you could’ve sworn you caught a row of long, pointed fangs flash across Satan’s sneer, but you didn’t care. You wanted to hit something. You wanted to yell. You’d wanted to ever since you came back to this damned house and its overly affectionate occupants.

“You don’t get to share me.” You couldn’t be shared. You weren’t theirs to share, even if they already seemed geared against the idea. You weren’t theirs to trap, either. You never would be. “I don’t need your protection, and you don’t need to see me, and the only place I’m supposed to be is the Human World. I don’t know what got into your fucked-up heads while I was gone, but you can’t just--”

“Sit down, (Y/n).”

You stopped mid-sentence.

Right. You’d almost forgotten Lucifer hadn't gotten a chance say his piece, yet.

He didn’t give you time to cooperate. There was already a fist curled around the back of your collar, dragging you back into your seat, the action so much more aggressive than Belphegor’s oppressive dead-weight or Amsodeus’ sweet, sickly temptation. You couldn’t see him, but you could feel Lucifer looming over you, standing tall, towering above his younger brothers as he took control of the room. You wondered if he’d been here the entire time, if he’d heard everything, rather than just your sudden outburst. You wondered if you should hope that he had.

“We missed you, while you were gone.” He didn’t sound mad. He didn’t sound mad, but none of them did, none of them sounded like they were plotting to keep you away from your home, your friends, the life you had outside of demons and angels and magic. None of them sounded dangerous, either, save for Lucifer. He’d always been easier to trust when he wasn’t pretending to be kind. “We’ve all been alive for centuries, and yet, you went and made a week feel like a small eternity. Do you know how difficult it is for a human to inflict that kind of suffering onto a demon?”

You didn’t answer. Across the room, Mammon laughed and Satan bristled. Belphegor melted back into your side, more than happy just to have his resting place scared into immobility.

“You’ll stay.” It was an order, this time. Not a suggestion, not a passing concern, but a command, something you would be expected to obey. He had the nerve to use that low, calm cadence, measured and pre-meditated. He didn’t want to let you convince yourself he was as prone to bluffing as his brothers were. “You’ll stay because we want you to. We’re willing to use force, but there’s no need for that. Is there, love?”

You nodded, your body tense and your eyes glassy, and Lucifer rewarded you with a breathy chuckle, a row of knuckles delicately pressed to your cheek. A miserable reward for such an unwilling sacrifice, but Lucifer didn’t seem to mind. It certainly didn’t stop him from leaning in, his lips brushing against the top of your head, his voice falling just low enough to make something sharp and cold shot down your spine, as he went on.

“It’s not like you have anything to go back to, anymore.”

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weasleylangs · 3 years

Text

secrets i have held in my heart - f.w

Pairing: Fred x Fem!Reader Summary: Everyone in the twins’ lives mix them up once in a while, except for Y/N. Fred is dying to know how. Warnings: Some angst with a happy ending, yes I wrote oblivious Fred again with miscommunication issues, what about it, some swearing, brief mention of the war but obviously this is a FredLives!AU :D, mentions of sex but nothing descriptive it’s like one line, - everyone is 18+ by the way! Word Count: 4k

A/N: For the anon who requested super secret mutual pining with some angst where the reader is the only person who can tell the twins apart! Thank you so much for requesting. This has also been cross-posted on AO3 (frederickweasleys) as per the anon’s request!

Also, I didn’t want to write about a 17 and 15 year old pining after each other, so I made everyone older and it’s postwar, however I was like 2000 words into the fic when I remembered George got his mf ear blasted off in DH so…. U do not see that it’s not canon in this fic thank you

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The sun is blaring down on The Burrow and everyone is starting to wonder the likelihood of getting heatstroke. They’re in the south-west of England and the weather doesn’t usually get above the early 20s in the middle of August, however, mother nature has decided to wreak havoc and today is almost 30°.

Y/N is looking at the pages in her book but she’s not processing anything on the pages. She’s so appreciative of the relaxing life she and all her loved ones finally have. The war ended last year, and while Y/N isn’t family, Molly and Arthur are always insistent she’s welcomed at The Burrow for their Sunday roast dinners.

So she sits under a tree, the muggle fantasy novel in hand as Molly is busy prepping dinner and her friends all play quidditch. Hermione’s been refereeing them despite having no actual knowledge of the rules, and right now, she’s waving Harry’s copy of ‘Quidditch Through The Ages’ at one of the twins trying to prove a point, fully aware she’s going to get nowhere with him. He’s laughing at her and he raises the hand holding the beater’s bat as he threatens to (softly) hit her with it when he looks over her shoulder and spots his favourite girl perched under the tree with his mum’s homemade lemonade.

Before Y/N knows it, the bat’s been thrown in her direction, barely missing her and hitting the tree behind her, and when she looks up, she immediately recognises the twin as Fred. Fred and Y/N are almost two sides of the same coin and their friendship has always been considered unlikely. Fred loves mischief and pranks and he’s extremely exuberant where Y/N is a ‘stickler for the rules’ (Fred’s words, not hers) and she’d much rather spend her day reading than playing quidditch. But their friendship blossomed and eventually for Y/N her feelings evolved into more.

But Y/N is one of Ron’s best friends, and having a crush on her best friend’s older brother is weird, even if they are 19 and 21.

“Hi Freddie,” she says, dog-earing the page and closing her novel, accepting now that Fred’s in her presence, the book isn't getting read again until tonight, “no more quidditch?”

The ginger gives her a shit-eating grin and completely ignores her question, “Darling, I’m George.”

Y/N squints at him for a brief moment, second-guessing herself but the longer she looks at him the more she’s sure it’s Fred, not George in front of her. “No, you’re Fred. I’ve known you for how long? Just accept I can tell you apart.”

Fred mutters a ‘fuck’ under his breath as he sits down. He’s always loved that Y/N is the only person who can tell them apart, his own family struggling sometimes and especially when they’re apart. But no matter what, she somehow gets it right every single time and he’s dying to know how.

“You’re never going to tell me how you do it, are you?” He questions and she replies how she always does when he asks, blaming it on intuition and that she doesn’t know how she does it. As always, he doesn’t believe her. Y/N secretly does have a way of easily telling the twins apart, not rooted in intuition in the slightest but she doesn’t want to tell him.

The truth is, the way her heart races when Fred looks or speaks to her is her way of telling them apart. Fred always has a mischievous glint in his brown eyes and the way he looks at Y/N makes her feel like she’s the only girl in the world. George is sweet, loving and exceptionally kind- he was there as a source of comfort and calmness for Y/N when the trio disappeared during their 7th year to hunt Horcruxes, when she and her family went into hiding. She loves George like she would love a brother, like how she loves Ron and Harry, but the love Y/N has for Fred is different and the catalyst for her ability to tell them apart.

“I’m going to get you one day. One day George and I will swap and you’ll get it wrong and as a reward for finally tricking the oh so wonderful Miss Y/N Y/L/N, you’ll tell me how you tell us apart.”

It’s not even an hour later when Fred and George come down wearing each other’s clothing. Y/N’s well aware Fred prefers to wear warm and bright colours while George likes to wear the dark colours in their coordinated clothing, so seeing Fred walk down the stairs in George’s purple shirt and vice versa is funny, despite the fact they’re identical twins, Y/N thinks they look ridiculous and unfamiliar.

“George put the purple back on. You look weird in orange,” she says, as she goes back to help Molly with the vegetables for dinner and soon after she speaks, she hears someone angrily kick the table. She looks up from her potatoes she’s been peeling to see an entertained George and Fred who looks like he’s going to throw a child-size tantrum.

“How!” He exclaims again, pulling the shirt up over his head, shoving it in George’s hands and stomping back upstairs to change. Y/N is about to follow him, genuine concern for Fred in tow. She knows he’s most likely just being dramatic to cause a ruckus but there’s a small part of her that considers he might be serious.

“He’s fine, Y/N,” George states, changing his shirts and throwing Fred’s orange one over the back of the chair as he sits down, “I think he’s trying to rile you up into telling him how you do it.”

She laughs at this, knowing that while she might not have told him, the look in George’s eye hints that he’s picked up on her feelings for his twin brother. But before she can say anything, Ron comes bounding down the stairs and right into the kitchen, Harry in tow. They’re both looking for food and when Ron’s hand makes his way towards the ham, Y/N smacks him.

“Don’t spoil your dinner,” she scolds which causes Harry to laugh.

“But, mum,” Ron mockingly replies, “All the quidditch got me hungry!” He might be 19 but he’s sulking like a 10-year-old boy and Y/N thinks temper tantrums might run in the Weasley family.

When Molly isn’t looking, however, Y/N sneaks him a piece of ham and Ron jumps up quickly, smacking a kiss to her cheek, “You’re the best!” he whispers as he quickly shoves the piece of ham in his mouth to not be caught by his mother.

Soon enough, everyone’s crammed into the small kitchen and Molly waves them all out except Y/N, who she insists stays. She thinks it’s because she was already helping with the vegetables but when she’s about to ask for her next task, Molly has a rare mischievous glint in her eye.

“How do you tell my sons apart?” She enquires and Y/N groans. She hasn’t been asked how she tells the twins apart this often since she was at Hogwarts and before she can speak, Molly continues, “it’s just no one can besides us, and even then, sometimes I catch myself calling George, Fred sometimes.”

Y/N sighs. She loves Molly like her own mother, but she loves to meddle like every mother.

“I just know, I wish I had some excuse like a mother’s instinct, but I just know,” Y/N pauses and thinks how to word her next statement without spilling too much for potential eavesdroppers and Extendable Ears to hear, “They have different energies. I think I pick up on it easily.”

Y/N hopes that’s enough for Molly to drop the conversation at hand and while Molly hums in agreement, she reads between the lines. She’s known for a while that Y/N carries a flame for the oldest twin, after all the way Y/N looks at Fred is the same way she looks at Arthur, so she’s hoping for the day they both stop dancing around their feelings.

She already loves Y/N like a daughter, and she’d like it to be official one day.

After dinner, the girls are all holed up in Ginny’s room. She loves staying at The Burrow. Y/N never grew up with sisters and her friendship with Hermione and Ginny are the closest she gets to them. They usually gossip, who’s dating who, who’s already getting married, sometimes it gets juicy and someone’s pregnant.

When Ginny and Harry, and Hermione and Ron finally got together, they gushed for hours about how it finally happened and how excited they all were.

Tonight, unfortunately, the topic at hand is Y/N and Fred.

“When are you going to tell him?” Ginny enquires as she smooths out her face mask. Hermione’s braiding Y/N’s hair and when she doesn’t reply, Hermione grasps some hair and gives a hard tug. Y/N yelps and while Hermione mutters an apology, she doesn’t miss the wink she gives Ginny in the mirror.

“Tell Fred what exactly?”

“About your feelings for him,” Ginny replies like it’s the most obvious thing in the world that everyone should have known. Y/N starts to stutter, trying to find words to deny her feelings but these are her two best girl friends, her sisters and she can’t lie to them no matter how much she wants to.

“Okay fine, they exist but he’s never knowing,” she states, a matter of factly as if it’s something to be proud of, “and he’s never finding out. I’m looking at you, Ginevra.” Ginny inherited her love to meddle from her mother, and if Y/N is positive about anything it’s that Ginny is going to meddle to get her best friend and brother together.

“I’m pretty sure he likes you back,” Hermione says. She prides herself on being observant but even she didn’t notice Ron’s feelings for her until he quite literally put his lips on hers.

“I’m just his little siblings’ best friend, Hermione, I doubt it,” she says as she grabs the tiny elastics to secure her hair. “Besides, I think he has a thing with one of the girls from his year at school.”

“You’re choosing now of all days to get the wrong twin? George is dating Angelina. Fred hasn’t even been seen with a girl since he slept with one of Fleur’s cousins at the wedding.” Ginny says and something about this makes Y/N blush, almost happy that Fred’s been single for as long as she has, but the jealousy is in the back of her mind.

“... Shut up,” Y/N laughs as she grabs the nearest pillow and smacks Ginny over the head with it. This causes chaos in Ginny’s tiny bedroom and soon enough all three girls are defending themselves with pillows and jumping around the bedroom.

What none of the girls knew, however, was Fred standing outside of the bedroom, eavesdropping. He’s always been curious about what the girls talk about when the boys aren’t around and Fred reckons if he doesn’t have to hear about his little siblings’ sex life, it doesn’t hurt anybody.

Except it does, and he hurts himself. He arrived just in time for Ginny to question why Y/N doesn’t admit her feelings to someone. At first, Fred was hopeful, especially when the conversation steers in the direction of her liking one of the twins. After all, Bill’s married, Percy’s… Well, he’s Percy and Charlie isn’t in England enough for him to believe Y/N was able to develop feelings for him.

So that leaves himself and George from context clues. He’s always had a crush on her ever since they were in school, but he was always worried about coming off as creepy, pining after someone two years below him.

But then Y/N says ‘I think he has a thing with one of the girls from his year at school’ and he walks off before he even hears the rest of the conversation, hearing the apparent confirmation of Y/N’s feelings for George.

The summer is still sweltering hot when she decides to visit Diagon Alley three days later. She’s shopping for her nephew when she ends up in Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes. Fred was unusually quiet when she said goodbye to him on Monday morning before she floo’d away to her job at the Ministry and she’s hoping to catch him at the shop during quiet hour.

When she walks in, she’s met with a bell ringing and the voice that calls out ‘Hi, how are you today!’ doesn’t make her heart race so she immediately knows she’s caught the wrong twin at the counter.

“Hey, Georgie!” She makes her way over to the counter. It’s a Wednesday morning, so the shop has a lull in customers and he’s doing what Y/N assumes is a stock take of whizbangs. He gives her a nice smile as she potters her way over to him. She stops in front of the love potions, smelling the familiar scent of cinnamon, fireworks and something that can only be described as happiness in the small bottles. She’s so entranced for a moment that she doesn’t even notice George make his way up next to her.

“You don’t need one of these, by the way,” He whispers as he winks, looking behind him and seeing Fred standing on top of the spiral staircase not looking the happiest.

“You’re the second person to tell me that this week,” she mutters, quickly putting the love potion vial down, “I don’t know what any of you mean.”

George chuckles at her obliviousness. It’s been obvious since they were teenagers about the feelings both Fred and Y/N harbour for each other but he can’t help but admit it’s just the tiniest bit funny. Like it’s a joke they’re all in on except the oblivious couple themselves.

“It’s because we’re more observant than you, darling,” George says, absent-mindedly fixing the display so it looks presentable. Y/N’s about to question him when someone clears their throat behind them- an elderly gentleman shopping for some grandkids when George excuses himself with the promise ‘this isn’t over’.

Fred watched the interaction from the staircase and while he didn’t hear anything, he feels like he’s gotten punched in the stomach. He knows he’s never directly told George about his feelings for Y/N, and George is dating Angelina anyway and he’d never betray her, but he can’t ignore the slight feeling of upset he feels when he sees them interact.

“I think Y/N likes you,” Fred says nonchalantly and George almost chokes on his tea. It takes him a moment to fix his breathing before he looks at Fred like he’s got three heads.

“No, she doesn’t?” George questions, like it’s the most obvious thing in the entire world and that upsets Fred slightly. He’s not upset at George, he never has and he never will be upset with George, but it seems like his comment was brushed off without any deeper consideration.

“No, I think she does,” Fred says, twiddling his quill between his fingers as he stares at the tax invoice in front of him. Wednesday night is budget night and Fred knows he’s not going to get any work done if his mind is stuck on Y/N and her feelings for George.

“No, mate, she doesn’t,” George huffs and Fred notices the eye roll George gives him. George only ever gives him eye rolls when he’s being oblivious. Like when Fred spent 20 minutes looking for his wand last week only to find it in his pocket.

Fred’s convinced George is just being oblivious, blinded by his new relationship with Angelina that he hasn’t noticed Y/N’s feelings for him. “Do you wonder how she can tell us apart?”

George huffs in annoyance as a reply and Fred pouts as he attempts to go back to his taxes. He’s reread the same line three times when George finally speaks.

“I think it’s got something to do with her feelings for us. She feels differently about one twin.” George is intentionally being coy, hoping to Godric that Fred caught the pointed stare and the emphasis but Fred wasn’t looking and the longer he dwells on what George has said the more he’s convinced he doesn’t have a chance with Y/N at all.

It’s the weekly Sunday roast again and Fred isn’t expecting to floo into The Burrow and be met almost face to face with Y/N. He’s planned on ignoring her today, purposely volunteering to do any work needed at the shop while George floo’s to The Burrow early in the afternoon.

It teeters on 5 pm when Fred finally arrives and he’s quickly engulfed in a hug by his mother with his father behind him telling him to stop working on Sundays as ‘Sundays are for family’. With a kiss to his mum’s forehead and a promise to his dad that he’ll force George into doing the Sunday work next week, who throws a piece of stale bread at Fred’s head while exclaiming ‘you offered!’ he quickly makes his way away from Y/N.

Molly’s quick to serve up dinner now Fred’s here, complaining he’s starving already. He quickly steals the seat next to Ron and pulls George down next to him- not wanting to allow Y/N to sit either side of him. Usually, she sits between Ron and Fred and when she turns the corner and the only available seat is the furthest from Fred, her heat sinks a little.

Dinner is pleasant, it always is at The Burrow. Hermione and Y/N talk about the ministry while Ginny tells stories of her Holyhead Harpies tryouts she had during the week. Y/N might let slip she works with the coach’s sister-in-law and overheard some high praise for a certain Miss. Weasley and Ginny’s eyes fill with tears when she hears this.

There’s a quick lull in conversation as Molly waves her wand and the now empty plates make their way into the kitchen, children following behind them ready to help wash up but Fred makes his way outside. He likes to watch the sunset, the sun slowly dipping behind the hills where he learnt how to play quidditch as a kid as the sun becomes shades of orange.

He’s sitting under the tree when Y/N follows him out. She’s shouting his name trying to find him. He slipped out without anyone noticing and that’s unusual for Fred so something is wrong. When she spots him, she starts jogging over and she can’t tell if he’s ignoring her or can’t hear her calling his name, so she tries something.

“George?”

Fred turns, a smirk subconsciously forming on his lips and Y/N finally feels seen by him in a week. “It took me calling you your brother’s name to get your attention?” She asks, kicking sticks out of the way before she takes a seat next to him.

“No, love. Just shocked you finally got us mixed up,” he replies, shoving her a little with his elbow. He knows she only did it to get his attention, but he’s Fred Weasley and he’s going to use this to his advantage. “I believe I told you when you get us mixed up, you’re legally required to tell me how you do it. I’m all ears.” He wiggles his eyebrows but deep down, he’s scared George’s assumption is right.

She rolls her eyes, but the love she has for this boy in her heart can’t be kept a secret anymore. This week she’s felt like he’s been ignoring her and while she and Fred are no means ‘best friends’, not like she is with the others, she’s felt a little piece of her universe missing knowing he’s been upset.

“You and George, I… I feel different about you to how I feel about George,” she starts and Fred’s breath hitches. He doesn’t know if he’s going to storm off or throw up so he just sits and stares at a rock. “George makes me feel comfortable. He’s always willing to talk to me about anything, feeds into the fact I can speak for hours on end about any topic if you let me,” she laughs and her nervousness is in her throat. She notices Fred isn’t looking at her and it’s making her want to run away.

“But you, you feel like home, Freddie. The way my heart races when I hear you speak or when you look at me. It’s the biggest indicator of how I tell you guys apart. George and you may be identical but the way you both make me feel is so different.” She’s whispering now and she’s realised Fred is looking at her so intently that the Earth might open up and swallow her whole.

“Like, home?”

She smiles softly and takes his big hand that’s been messing with rocks into her small ones. “Like I can tell you anything and you’ll never judge me. I could be having the worst day of my life and one joke from you can make me smile even if I’ve been crying for hours.” Her thumb starts to rub along the top of his hand and the way he shivers doesn’t miss her.

“I’m trying to say, in a round-about kind of way, that I’m in love with you, Freddie,” her voice is shaky but there’s no backing out now. “I’m in love with you and this past week where it’s felt like you’re mad at me has me so confused because I don’t know what I did.”

Fred feels incredibly guilty now, he was so caught up in his own feelings that he didn’t stop to think how his actions would affect Y/N. “I thought you liked George,” he whispers, and he feels his cheeks heat up in embarrassment. “I thought you liked George and not me and I didn’t want to be near you knowing that.”

She giggles and drops his hands to run her fingers through his hair. It’s still short but she thinks she can convince him to grow it out again. “Me? George? Not even for a second.”

“Why not?” The joking in Fred’s voice is there but so is the genuine curiosity.

“I don’t know. It’s just always been you, ever since I was 11 and you were bullying Ron into performing a spell to turn Scabbers yellow.” She laughs at the memory, watching scrawny Fred bully his small brother on the train platform.

Fred looks down at her, her hands now playing at the hair at the back of his neck and he feels goosebumps rise across his skin. He wants nothing more to lean down and press a kiss to her lips and when he realises he never actually admitted his feelings to Y/N back, he starts to lean down, hoping to convey everything he feels for her through a kiss.

She’s quick to catch on and she leans up so quickly they almost bump noses. It’s messy, like most first kisses are, especially in an awkward sitting down position but the love they have for each other is there and obvious. They pull away when they’re barely kissing anymore, just smiling and laughing into each other’s mouths.

“Does this mean we’re dating now?” Fred asks. It’s a dumb question, they both know it but when Y/N pretends to think he stands up and hauls her over his shoulders and starts swinging her around. The giggles that erupt from her make Fred’s heart swell and he’s about to put her down just to get down on one knee himself and propose right then and there.

“Yes, Freddie, if you want me to be your girlfriend then I’m yours.” Y/N replies and Fred smiles, he loves that. Not Y/N being his, he could never believe she’s an object, but she loves him and he loves her and now he understands why George was rolling his eyes at him.

“As long as you don’t get George and I mixed up in bed, I’m all yours.” He says it jokingly, but the smack he receives from Y/N is no joke and when he starts swinging her around again, he’ll forever make dumb jokes like this if he gets to hear her laugh like that for the rest of his days.

#fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley one shot #fred weasley

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spidernerdsblog · 3 years

Note

Heeeeyyyyy!👋 Would you mind me requesting a blurb or anything about MMIH where the twins mocks (in a joking way) Tom’s accent or anything just a type of family bond…. I hope you get it?😅

this was a really cute concept. hope you like this.

Read Match made in Hell series

Quackson

Pairing : Mob! Tom Holland x Reader

Warnings : fluff

It was like any other Sunday morning Tom was seated at the dining table reading the daily newspaper while sipping on his morning tea. The aroma of sizzled bacon and freshly brewed coffee looming in the air of the dining room as you were busy setting up the table for breakfast with the help of Leslie.

“Nate! Leah! Come and have your breakfast!” you called out to your five year old twins.

“Coming mommy!” you heard their voices from their room upstairs which was soon followed by the pitter patter of their small feet running down the stairs accompanied with soft giggles. They came running inside the dining room as you caught hold of them both.

“Woah woah slow down. How many times do I need to tell you guys not to run down the stairs hmm?” you questioned them with a stern gaze and they looked at you with their big brown eyes which they totally inherited from Tom making you instantly melt at their innocent faces.

“Ah Y/N just let them be. When will they have fun if not now?” Tom spoke, folding the newspaper aside.

“I know you love them more than anything but you need to stop spoiling them Tom” you pointed out.

“I’m not spoiling them!” he exclaims in his defense.

“Yes you are. They always get away with everything because of you” you complained.

“Well darling you are playing the part of strict parent very well so let me be the fun parent eh?” he quipped with a smirk.

“Hey! I’m not strict I can be a fun parent too ok” you stated frowning.

“No doubt about that honey” he snickers and turns to your twins “now c’mon you guys take your seats. I know you’re hungry” Nathan and Nailah happily climbed up their chairs as you served them their breakfast and then sat beside them.

“So how’s school, bud?” Tom asks Nathan. You and Tom had made a rule of not to talk about business in front of the kids so it’s mostly light hearted conversations at the table.

“Miss Brenda read us a story about a horse who could run very fast and then Leah said that she will ask you to buy a horse,” Nathan tells slightly giggling.

“Did she?” you raise your eyebrows amused.

“My princess can have anything she wants,” Tom declared happily as you looked at your daughter to find that she hasn’t even touched a single bit of her food.

“Mija, why aren’t you eating baby?” you asked with concern.

“I don’t want to eat the toast” she pushed the plate away pouting.

“But you love toast with eggs and bacon”

“Not today mommy” she shook her head with a frown. You tsked thinking what to do now. Their tantrums are growing day by day giving you a hard time lately and how can you say no to those adorable faces.

“It’s ok love, you don’t have to eat the toast. Do you want some of your favorite chocolate croissants instead?” Tom proposed and she nodded in a yes instantly.

“You are just like your mother, very picky” he looked at you with a teasing smile.

“Haha, very funny” you rolled your eyes.

“Leslie, bring the croissants for my girl please” Tom orders her who was standing at the end of the table.

“Yes sir” she obliged and went back to the kitchen when you heard Nate and Leah giggling among themselves.

“What are you two monkeys laughing for?” you asked with curiosity.

“Nothing mommy,” they said quickly.

“C'mon guys you won't even tell me?” you pouted jutting out your bottom lip.

“We can't, daddy will get angry” Leah mumbles fiddling with her hands.

“What? No baby daddy can never get angry with you” you assure her with a smile.

“Yeah I can never get angry at my princess” Tom tells her.

“Why does daddy say quackson?” she asked innocently, taking you both by surprise.

“What?” Tom looks at her puzzled while you bite your lips to hide your smile.

“Yeah he always says quackson and it's so funny” Nathan adds as you try hard to stifle your laughter.

“No I don't say that!” Tom retorts.

“Yes you do” Leah stressed on it “and also Miss Brenda said that duckies only make the sound quack” and that was it you couldn’t hold it anymore as you burst out laughing loudly.

“Seriously Y/N?” Tom stares at you in disbelief.

“I’m so sorry Tom but I’m glad someone finally said it” you rolled over laughing.

“Well I'm sorry but that’s how we Brits say” he scoffed, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah quackson” you teased giggling along with your twins.

“No it’s kwa-son!” he pronounces the word by its syllables.

“Okay calm down we got it alright” you finally composed yourself as Leslie brings in a plate of chocolate croissants that your twins love to eat.

“Thank you Les” you thanked her and she retreated back to the kitchen. You went to place a croissant each on Leah and Nate’s plates.

“Mommy, which one is correct then?” Leah asks curiously.

“Baby just say whatever you feel right ok?” you tell her, caressing the back of her head as she nods in understanding and takes a bite of her croissant. You love this little family time in the mornings where you forget about everything in the world. It's just you, Tom and your two beautiful kids who mean the world to you. You then look up at your husband with adoration, mouthing him an ‘i love you’ and he mouths the same to you back.

Reblogs are appreciated ❤️

#tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland x reader #tom holland smut #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #tom holland fluff #mob! tom #mob! tom holland

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spacedikut · 3 years

Text

the very insecure dr reid ; spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x gn!reader

summary: “Could you write another fic about early Spence where he’s all insecure” combined with another request :) 5730 words

a/n: title taken from s1e5!! i wrote this months ago aka before i decided to try to make my fics gender neutral and i tried to make the appropriate changes but im also a dumbass so! yeah!

masterlist

Spencer is a man of science, if you didn’t already know.

This means he doesn’t spend his time fretting over what isn’t there, what doesn’t have facts and evidence to back it up. Of course, he dabbles in reading conspiracy theories and enjoys learning about various religions and things of that sort, but these are to expand his already infinite knowledge, not because he particularly believes in them.

The first time he believed there was some kind of God was when you kissed him.

It was after the case where both Elle and Spencer were trapped on a train with a paranoid schizophrenic – he still remembers how you reacted when he agreed to being sent in, how you tried to keep it light-hearted but pulled him aside to solemnly tell him you didn’t think you’d be able to live without him (if you do something rash and stupid, Spencer, I swear to God-). You threatened to nipple cripple him if he did die, and it was weirdly motivating.

After he was checked over, and teased Elle about saving her life, you came crashing into him with an audible oof and a whisper of, “God you smell so good I’m so glad you’re okay don’t ever do that again.” It was probably the adrenaline, the near-death experience high, but instead of gently pushing you away like he’d do with anyone else, he discovers your waist has a wonderful dip that his arms fit perfectly into as he tugs you close.

He’s hugged people before, obviously, but it’s always different with you.

You must think so, too, because when you pull away just enough that you’re still in his arms but can clearly see his face, you take a minuscule intake of breath that Spencer wouldn’t notice if he wasn’t, you know, Spencer.

A strand of Spencer’s hair falls from where it was tucked, falling into his line of sight. Without hesitation you’re pushing it back, fingertips brushing against Spencer’s cheek as you fold the hair back behind his ear. Your eyes meet when there’s no obstruction, electricity crackling in Spencer’s ears when he realises there’s nothing between you, nothing stopping you, and there’s something about the lack of space between you and how he holds you that just makes you ask-

“Would it be weird if I kissed you right now?”

Immediately, Spencer thinks yes. Not because he doesn’t want you to (he couldn’t think of anything better to do, to be honest), or because of where you are (although, knowing the whole team is not far away does make him feel a little funny), it’s because he’s him. Gangly, awkward, with very sweaty hands that feel at home on your body, and you don’t want to kiss that. You can’t want to.

Yet, he shakes his head, and finds himself copying you when you lean in and close your eyes.

It’s short, sweet, and somewhat weird. He thinks he blacks out, loses himself in your lips despite it happening so quickly.

When you pull back, Spencer’s eyes remain closed for a good few seconds before he’s brought back to Earth. And he doesn’t know what to say - pretty people don’t just… kiss him. They certainly don’t ask if they can kiss him, then follow through, and… stare at him like that.

“Has anyone seen Reid? Y/L/N?”

Whatever was supposed to happen after, whether it was good or bad, you’ll never know. Hotch’s footsteps are thundering towards you and, despite your daze, you step away from Spencer just as he spots you.

The second time he believed there was a God, he asked you on a date. And you said yes.

Neither of you mention the kiss. In your defence, he supposes, it happened merely an hour ago – everyone’s rushing to get back to Quantico so no one’s had time to make any kind of small talk, let alone have the talk after a kiss.

Elle gives Spencer a look of confusion when she slides past him, moving into the jet as he hovers in the entryway. He’s obviously waiting for someone, passing out tight lipped smiles to the team when they all squeeze past. Spencer isn’t a big guy, but it’s bizarre for him to be standing there like that, swaying like the palm tree he is – he’s usually setting up for yet another game of chess with Gideon at this moment.

Then you shuffle on, faltering when you catch him waiting for you but smile nonetheless. He straightens, hands remaining in his pockets when his mouth opens to speak. You interrupt him (before he can make a fool of himself, thank God).

“Wanna sit together?” You ask, eyes never leaving his. He nods and follows you like the lost puppy he is.

The second you invite him to sit next to you instead of opposite he wants to pull you tight into his side, but that seems like too much. He’s not Derek, for Heaven’s sake, and you’re not Garcia – all you’ve done is kiss once and really, when he thinks about it, you were probably on an adrenaline high too, so it might’ve been a heat of the moment thing. It happens, Spencer’s read about it, and although it would break his heart that it meant nothing, it’s likely. Oh, it’s so likely.

Spencer might be the first one on the team to cry on the BAU jet.

Halfway home, the team is lost in their own pass-times to notice when you bookmark your page and place your book on the table.

“Spence,” You whisper, testing if he’s awake.

He is. He hasn’t been able to catch a wink of sleep, no matter how hard he tries. “Yeah?”

“I’m sorry if what I did earlier- you know-“ You gesture vaguely in the air, completely oblivious to the fact Spencer is very familiar with what happened earlier because he can’t stop replaying it, “-If that made you uncomfortable. Or if I forced you, or-“

“Would it be weird if I asked you on a date when we land?”

The grin you send him shoots straight to his heart, eyes crinkling with laughter at his echo of the words you used earlier. If you notice you don’t mention it, but his hands can’t stop fidgeting under the table, slick with sweat.

“It’d only be weird if you don’t kiss me after.” You say.

His brows furrow, a small incredulous laugh leaving him. “What? Why?”

“We’ve already had our first kiss, so it’s out of the way.”

“Are you saying… You want to kiss me again?”

You thought that was obvious from when you kissed him earlier, but you’re happy to remind him. “Yes. I would like that very much.”

“Okay,” He says, bashfully, with a lick of his lips. “I can- I can arrange that.”

This time, when you turn back to your book, your head finds his shoulder and Spencer thinks his it has turned to gold, blessed by being touched by you. Would it be too much if, the second you get back to base, he writes about this moment in great detail to his mother?

+++

All of that leads to now, where The Date is in three days.

He plans to take you to his favourite book café, a place you’ve always wanted to go but never had the chance to, and he was so, so excited. Any time he gets to spend with you is cherished and means more to him than it does to you, because to him it’s an excuse for you to give him more reasons to fall in love with you. And he does - fall in love - every single day.

Was is the important word here. He’s not excited anymore.

It’s terrifying how quick the tides can change.

Just this morning, he was glancing with child-like excitement at the outfit he’s already chosen for the date. You brought him some coffee, whispering an endearing, “Three days!” as you did, and, according to Derek, Spencer’s love eyes (what the hell does that mean) were so big even Derek fell in love with you for a second.

Now, Spencer’s not territorial, but that comment stuck with him. Maybe that’s why he’s here now.

He has to cancel the date.

It pains him – God, does it pain him – but he has to. He can’t go on that date with you. He can’t… put you through that. Make you spend time with him and have to let him down gently, slowly, like you’re talking down a temper tantrum. He can’t then pretend everything’s okay in front of the team. He won’t be able to pretend, because he’s liked you for months.

He won’t force you to go on that date with him. You deserve better than that, and better than him.

That’s what it comes down to: you deserve better than him.

It started that morning with Derek, as previously mentioned. Then the team was whisked away on a case, and the detectives were all over you. JJ, too, but they were too intimidated by Elle and Morgan, who just laughed at their attempts to impress you. It was borderline inappropriate, but you were too concerned with the victims and finding a serial killer to pay some officers and detectives you’ll never see again any attention.

Spencer noticed, though. And he couldn’t concentrate.

The detectives are dressed too well – by that, he means the suits and the Rolex watches are way above their paygrade – and they keep emphasising how good looking you and JJ are and how lucky the BAU is to have such dolls working on the team. What is this, the 40s? Who calls anyone doll anymore? And, yes, the team is very lucky to have you and JJ, but because you’re both great minds and wildly intelligent people that, yes, are also very gorgeous, but your looks aren’t all you have to offer, thank you very much.

There’s a detective approaching you, again, as you stand by the water cooler.

Spencer frantically looks around, trying to find a member of the team. “Morgan!” He weakly calls, because Spencer won’t scare him off. Maybe Morgan can chase them away like they’re stray cats, with his big muscles and scary eyebrows. Or Elle, who earlier merely lifted an eyebrow and the officers scattered like cockroaches.

All he catches of the conversation between you and the model/detective at the cooler is, “I appreciate it, but no thank you,” and that’s all he needs to hear.

He should’ve known someone would eventually make a move. You’ve said no, clearly, and Spencer doesn’t understand why. I mean, yes, he knows why – you have a prior engagement – but the detective… As much as he’s kind of a dick, he complements you better than Spencer does. Physically.

And there starts the spiral.

There must be something in the water, because every officer and detective and everyone in between is in peak physical condition with dashing looks to boot. They’re all straight out of a magazine, as if the popular kids from Spencer’s high school graduated and followed him here to remind him he is incredibly unworthy of you.

Spencer is lanky, unlike the broad men and curvaceous women here, and slicks his hair to the side rather than up like the others. He wears sweater vests, not blazers, and he’s so skinny that his trousers always look like hand-me-downs – nothing is fitted, like so many outfits are here.

They’re all everything Spencer is not. And Spencer is realising, quite quickly, that they’re the better ones – and that’s what you deserve. Better. The best.

It gets worse when they deliver the profile.

He finds his spot next to you, gives you a tight lipped smile, then looks at the outfits of his team compared to his own. Both Hotch and Morgan wear dark suits, well-proportioned and sophisticated in a way that Spencer is sure isn’t even in his calibre. Elle wears a deep green t-shirt, tucked into her tight black pants, and looks wonderfully intimidating with her double gun holster wrapped around her shoulders.

And you. You.

You wear a white shirt tucked into nicely tailored trousers, hair effortlessly styled with a pen tucked behind your ear. You all look like FBI agents. Intimidating. Prepared. Put-together.

Spencer… looks like he’s still in high school. He threatens no one, intimidates no one, and definitely does not make anyone feel inferior with his masculinity. He’s not an alpha male, is what he’s trying to say, and for each person he encounters in this wretched police department he feels himself shrinking.

So when they give the profile, he tries to say as little as possible. Tries to attract as little attention as possible, so when Hotch says his usual, “Thank you.” He can slip away unnoticed and hide from the superior beings.

It works, given everyone is too busy trying to save lives. Except you notice, and Spencer has to pretend he’s okay when you find him at the evidence board and tell him you’re excited for the date. He wants to believe you, truly does, but no matter how hard he digs into his brain to find a part of him that can fathom you see him as a better option than literally anyone else, it doesn’t exist.

You don’t seem to notice. He tells himself he’s glad, but there’s no denying the disappointment.

+++

Hotch calls it a night when the clock nears midnight. He says the team should get as much rest as possible and come in with fresh eyes tomorrow – despite this, the team knows most if not all of them will get little to no sleep, given that they’ll all be going over everything they’ve got so far in their hotel rooms.

You slink up to Spencer, a pep in your step even though you’re running on pure caffeine and nothing else. It’s then Spencer realises he has to do it now, because if he does it in the police department then he’ll be called unprofessional, but if he waits any longer than that he’ll be cutting too close and that’s a bad look.

“Y/N,” He says, coming to a stop before the elevators, allowing the rest of the team to head up. “I need to say something.”

You nod with a smile, covering a cute yawn when he takes a couple seconds to gather his thoughts.

You’re not sure what he’s gonna say, but you assume it’ll be to do with the date. Maybe a change of time, or a change of venue – he did mention the library café can get super busy on weekends – or, worst case scenario, the date will have to be postponed for whatever reason. And none are particularly bad, because you’re excited and just want to be with Spencer – it doesn’t matter if it’s not when he originally planned or where he originally planned.

But Spencer has always unwittingly been full of surprises.

“We can’t go on that date.”

Instantly you ask, “Why not?”

“Well-“ He seems caught off guard, like he wasn’t expecting you to question the sudden change of heart, “It’s complicated-“

“I’ve got time.”

“We should go to sleep-“

“Is it your mother?”

“No. No, it’s not.” Of course you look empathetic when you consider his mother might need him – a stab to the start. Add in the flicker of concern in your eyes – two stabs to the heart. “It’s not her. It’s- it’s nothing. Just, can we cancel?”

“And reschedule?”

“No.”

“Oh.”

The disappointment is clear on your face and makes Spencer feel so guilty, but not guilty enough to take it back. You’re not disappointed that you’re missing out on dating him, you’re frustrated that you’ve been building up to having plans on the weekend and they’ve suddenly been cancelled without reason. By Spencer, of all people. In a couple months’ time you’ll thank him, when you’re dating some bodybuilder who can grow a mean beard. You’ll thank him for not making you go on that date with him and forcing you to tell him you’re just not my type, Spence, and making everything awkward.

He can’t look at you. Maybe that’s why he misses the genuine sadness, the sudden glassiness of your eyes that humiliates you enough to make you angry. His words have ignited a fire in your chest that burns through your body like you’re made of gasoline, and you wish you could turn your thoughts off so you don’t start questioning how long he’s been wanting to reject you, if he even wanted to date you in the first place, how embarrassing it is to have been so openly eager when, apparently, he was very much not.

“I’m sorry.” He says, like it’ll do anything. He still can’t look at you and he feels like a coward.

“Yeah.” You sniffle.

He decides to take the stairs. You head for the bar, just for one drink.

+++

The following day, when an officer tries to talk to you, you blatantly ignore him. You tell him that unless it’s work-related, you’re really not interested, and word spreads quick that your pleasantries have died out and you’re not in the mood to tolerate creepy compliments.

There’s a permanent frown on your face that haunts Spencer the entire day. He knows exactly what’s going on – it’s his fault, after all – and he finds himself simultaneously avoiding you whilst witnessing your downcast mood.

Morgan starts investigating not long after you barely react to his terrible joke. He makes them for you, because you either choke on laughter or throw your pen at him, but this time it was like you weren’t even in the room. When Morgan poked you and asked if you heard him, your lacklustre reply was, “Hm? Yeah, good one.”

Morgan perches on the desk Spencer’s using. “You got any idea what’s going on with Y/N?”

“They’re mad at me.”

“You’re the reason they’re like this?”

Spencer doesn’t physically react, just says, as casually as possible, “Unless another person asked them on a date then cancelled without reason, then yes. It’s my fault.”

There’s no point in lying. Especially to Derek. Spencer doesn’t know how you’ll go about explaining your sudden poor mood, if you’ll curse his very existence or lie about it, but Spencer’s never been a good liar and the sooner everyone knows it’s his fault and he sucks, the better.

Morgan leans forward, attempting to make eye contact with the doctor who very much does not want to. “There’s a story there.”

“Obviously.”

“…You wanna go ahead and explain it?”

“Not really.”

“Alright,” Derek shrugs, “You stir in your sadness and continue being a sourpuss, I’ll go check up on Y/N and find out what really happened.”

Derek’s barely moved off the table when Spencer stops him, voice small like a child, “Wait, Morgan, I-“

You walk past then, too focused on a suspect list faxed in by Garcia to pay attention to anyone else. Spencer’s eyes follow you the whole time, and the look in Spencer’s twinkling eyes make Morgan slump back onto the table in realisation.

“Why’d you cancel, Reid?”

“I had to.”

“You had other plans?”

Spencer chews his bottom lip. “No. But I… I couldn’t take them on a date.”

Derek waits for him to elaborate.

“Have you seen the kind of guys hitting on them?” Spencer asks, scooting his chair closer so no one can eavesdrop. “They’re all… They’re- they’re like you, Morgan. All cool and put-together and actually look their age, for one, and I’m not that. I could never be that – and that’s what Y/N wants-“

“Have you asked them that?”

“No. But I’m a profiler, in case you forgot, and I think it makes sense that these big-shouldered, super muscly guys are all over-“

“But you haven’t actually asked them what they want.”

“No.” Spencer sighs, leaning back in his chair.

“That’s your first, and most vital, mistake, my man.”

Spencer purses his lips, catching you watching him over Derek’s shoulder. You immediately look away, shooting off to the evidence room as an escape, and Spencer’s cheeks burn with guilt and embarrassment.

He can’t believe he thought he had a chance with you.

“I feel like this should be obvious, Genius, but Y/N said yes to a date with you, then turned down every offer that came from someone that wasn’t you-“

“That’s because they already made plans with me and they’d feel terrible if they had to cancel for another, better offer. I made it easier for them.”

Derek gives him such an incredulous look Spencer wonders if he should burn his PhDs. “Are you serious?”

The crestfallen expression on Spencer’s face is enough of an answer.

“Come with me.”

“What?”

“C’mon,” Derek tugs Spencer up from his chair. “I need to show your dumb ass something.”

All that’s missing is classic spy music when Derek and Spencer sneak into the conference room the BAU is using. Only Hotch is in there, scribbling something down, barely glancing up when the two agents creep in like they’re on a mission.

Spencer doesn’t say anything until Derek reaches for your bag. “Whoa- Morgan-“

“Relax.”

Spencer just stares, brows halfway down his face, and watches silently.

“That’s they’re journal, Morgan, you can’t just read it-“

“It’s not, pretty boy.”

Hotch watches the interaction, mildly confused, then nods to himself when he realises what Morgan’s holding.

Morgan splays the journal on the table in front of them, flipping through pages with precision like it’s his notebook and not yours. When he lands on his desired page, it’s slid towards Spencer.

He reads it.

The Doctor Spencer Reid cheat sheet. (Because I do not have an eidetic memory and feel bad whenever I forget something he tells me)

He’s too stumped by the words cheat sheet to look further, so Derek does it for him, flipping to the next page where very basic information about Spencer sits – full name, date of birth, hometown. As he looks to the page next to it, he realises it’s full of his favourite things – favourite coffee, favourite candy (which has multiple answers, by the way), even favourite pair of socks. Like a switch has been flipped, Spencer comes to life, frantically switching between pages that are overflowing with facts and tidbits about him, from his favourite monologue from his favourite film to his favourite shelf in his apartment. All things he’s told you either in passing or when he’s confided in you at random times, you’ve taken note. You’ve listened, and for some reason you’ve written it all down so you’d never forget.

“What…What is this?”

“It’s everything there is to know about you, Reid.” Derek watches as Spencer slips through the rest of the book, filled with random to-do lists and phone numbers of various people, looking for the same information about the rest of the team. “There’s only one for you, you know. And if you ask me it’s a little creepy, but it’s saved our asses when it’s come to buying gifts for you a good few times.” He slaps a hand on his friend’s shoulder, smirking at how Spencer’s awe-filled eyes never leave the pages before him. “They care about you a lot, Reid. More than you think. So…”

“I need to talk to them.”

“Yes, idiot, you do.”

+++

That night, Elle and Derek invite you to join them for some drinks at the bar, promising they won’t let it escalate to arm wrestling and childish bets like they always do. Even though they make a compelling argument, add on that you’re stressed and upset and really, really want to forget emotions exist more than anything else, you’re half tempted to accept and lose yourself in some cocktails.

Then you spot Spencer talking in hushed tones with Gideon and everything comes flooding back. So you tell Elle to have a drink for you, please don’t make a ruckus when she gets back to your shared room, and bid them adieu.

In your room, you distract yourself by renting one of your favourite movies. It’s overpriced, and a part of you wants to look over the case files again, but being sad and burnt out won’t lead to any good outcomes.

It’s a futile attempt at switching your brain off so you don’t have to think about how excited you were for the date. You’ve had twenty-four hours to get over it, but every time you see him you’re thrown back into the bitterness you feel – bitter that you fooled yourself into thinking it’d work out, bitter that your hopes were so high, bitter that you let your feelings for Spencer become such a big part of your life.

You’re lying on your scratchy hotel bed, thinking about Spencer and how he’s going to be complaining to Morgan about said scratchy beds, when there’s a knock at your door.

Naturally, you assume its Elle. She reminds you so much of your older sister who used to slide you some money so you’d stay up late into the night and quietly let her back into the house after she’s sneaked off to go to a party – except Elle is probably swaying outside your hotel room after losing her keycard rather than swaying on your doorstep.

So when you open the door, teasing quip ready, you legitimately choke when you’re faced with a fidgety Spencer Reid.

He tries to ignore how the way your face drops when you realise it’s him feels like a punch to the gut.

“Hey-“

“No.”

“Oh.”

“You-what-“ He’s never seen you so flustered. “Are you lost?”

Just in case, Spencer leans back to check the number beside your door is in fact 208. It is, and he turns back to you, “Please don’t slam the door in my face.”

It slips out. “I wouldn’t do anything to jeopardise your pretty face.”

You’re humiliated that he has this effect on you, the ability to obliterate all your filters and common sense just by existing. But the look on his face alleviates the want to jump out of the window – his mouth opens, twitching into the smallest, most bashful smile before it falls and morphs back into disbelief. You just… You just called his face pretty, a word that makes some feel emasculated but no, never with you. You compliment people and mean it, which makes Spencer’s guilt worsen and the urge to tell you he loves you with his entire heart more intense.

You speak at the same time.

“Why are you-“

“I wanted to-“

You roll your lips together, holding back a smile, and nod for him to go on. He does the same, so you shake your head with a, “I was just asking why you’re here.”

He holds up a finger, signalling one moment, and opens his satchel to start rummaging in it. “I know this is a complete invasion of privacy, and theft, really, but Morgan showed me it and I just- Why do you have this?”

You gasp.

In his hand is the journal you’ve been working on since a month into your employment at the BAU. The gifted notebook was initially used to jot down any bits of advice your superiors gave you (on your first day, Elle gave you a list she lovingly titled “If I wasn’t an FBI agent I’d sock these people in the mouths”) but, before you knew it, it had an entirely different purpose.

It started when you witnessed Derek stumble when asked Spencer’s favourite colour, to which he said no one remembers stuff like that! Aptly followed by Spencer reeling off everyone’s preferred colours (even delving into second favourites and favoured colour schemes) and you realised then that… Spencer’s whole life, he’s remembered so much about the people around him and very rarely have they returned the favour. So, in an attempt to build friendship and because you had the fattest crush on him already, you started the Spencer Reid cheat sheet.

You didn’t think he’d ever see it, even if it’s always used by the team on various occasions. It was the team’s little secret, bar Spencer, that assisted in nearly every decision made on Spencer’s behalf – what to order from restaurants, drinks, birthday and holiday gifts, how to comfort him when he’s stressed or upset.

The responses vary. Derek thinks it’s weird, as did Elle at first, but JJ and Garcia insist its sweet and, really, no matter what they think they’ve all come running to you when time has called for it.

“How… Did you steal it?”

“Yes,” He tells you, guiltily, “I had to read it – it’s incredibly accurate, by the way.”

You don’t know if that’s a compliment or not.

“So… Why?”

“I don’t know,” You say, a bold-faced lie and Spencer can tell, but he lets you continue, “You remember everything about everyone else, so I wanted to… do the same for you, I guess.”

“I have an eidetic memory.”

You airily laugh – does he think you forgot that? “I know that. Doesn’t it get tiring recalling all this information about your friends and not having it reciprocated?”

He clicks his tongue at that, eyes falling back to the notebook in his hands that he fiddles with while he thinks. It is tiring, he supposes, but that’s how it’s always been. He remembers everything, the people around him just… don’t. He realised at a young age that he’ll often have to remind himself that friendship isn’t measured by what they remember, but by other ways – like this. You, with your unassuming journal that is full of things Spencer assumed no one would ever care to remember.

You, with your tensed jaw and fluttering eyes because you’re embarrassed.

You, who’s done quite possibly the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for him, and it’s been happening for years right under his nose.

You, who he cancelled a date with because he was so sure you were dating him out of pity, out of obligation after he asked and you felt forced to say yes, but now he realises you care about him just as much as he cares for you.

Touched feels like an understatement.

“Y/N…”

“If you find it weird, I’ll burn it the second we get home. Pretend it never happened, we can… discuss a restraining order if we must-“

“Y/N.”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

“Oh.”

He smiles at you, hands tight on the book in his hands, smiles so big that his eyes crinkle and his teeth show and he looks gorgeous. It tugs directly on your heart strings and just for a second you forget that he cancelled your date, forget that you’ve been pining for years, and bask in the warmth that radiates from him.

“This is… Insane, really.” He laughs, “But also so… so cool. I don’t deserve this, at all, and to think we could’ve gone on a date but I chickened out-“

“What?”

He shrugs with faux-nonchalance. “The-um- the reason I took back the date was because I think you deserve so much better than me. In a, you deserve someone like all the police officers down at the PD, kind of way. I don’t want a pity date-“

You scoff, then with an indignant, “Come in here,” You grab Spencer’s satchel and tug him into your hotel room, closing the door with a forceful push as he turns to face you.

With your hands on your hips, you stare him down with furrowed brows and a look that screams really? “Is that really what you think, Spence? It was a pity date?”

“Well, yeah,” He tells you. The conviction in his voice is so strong that, if you weren’t this riled up, you’d probably tear up at how sure he sounds.

You give another scoff. “Not only am I offended you think I’d do that to anyone, but I’m also mad that you don’t see how I look at you! Spencer, I’ve been into you since I started working here-“ His mouth falls open. You’re exasperated. “-and the notes were a way to get to know you, yes, but they were also because I couldn’t stop watching you and had to play it off like I was doing it for a reason. You’re my favourite, Spencer.”

His heart aches a little, full of such a tenderness he’s never quite felt before. He feels loved, and so, so touched that someone would put so much effort into getting to know him and… years. Literal years you’ve liked him, and he’s been blind to it.

“I like you a lot.” You’re breathless after your little speech, “And if you still don’t want that date, that’s okay. But I like you, Spence, I really like you.”

Your gaze never wavers. Spencer wants to scoop you up and place kisses all over. For the first time in a while, he feels worthy. Like what you’re saying isn’t being said for the sake of it, because you’re his friend and you have to support him, but because it’s what you genuinely think and feel and Spencer might be in love.

He swallows deeply before speaking.

“I really like you, too, Y/N. And I’m-I’m sorry that I cancelled the date and- I should’ve talked to you, maybe, before doing it, but… We’re here now, right?”

“You want to have a date right now?”

Thumbing through the book, he says, “Actually, there’s some blanks in here I’d like to fill, if you’re not busy…”

You’re very clearly on board with the suggestion, basically skipping to your bed, plopping down and patting the space beside you with a grin. “I’m not busy at all, Doctor Reid. Tell me everything I don’t already know.”

So he does, thigh pressed against yours and blush on his cheeks when you let your head fall onto his shoulder.

The night is spent giggling over the most random information you’ve gathered, correcting only one mistake (his favourite socks change every week, not your fault), and adding onto the already plentiful fact file.

And the date that weekend happens, ending in a sweet kiss on your doorstep that leaves you both with shy smiles and thundering hearts.

It’s the first date of many, followed by the creation of a new journal full of all there is to know about your and Spencer’s relationship.

+++

tags: @pinkdiamond1016 @bluerose512 @andreasworlsboring101 @bitchyreids @roses-and-grasses @ta-ka-shi-ma @chiffonchronicles @rexorangecouny @unmistakablyunknown @goofygubler14 @jasongideonapologist @gublertoon @averyhotchner

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x y/n #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #i tried to write the first half in the past tense but i got confused so sorry if the tenses r weird

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rosequart · 4 years

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i compiled a bunch of direct quotes about pink diamond/rose quartz from the newest artbook, end of an era. some of these quotes are taken from charts and scribbled notes, so the sentence structure might be weird.

let me know if there are any typos/missing information you think i could add!

quotes from rebecca sugar: on pink diamond/rose quartz

Pink Diamond is so sure that she’s powerless, but she’s actually profoundly powerful, so much so that she devastates people’s lives without understanding it because she thinks that she has no real power or sway.

The thing that she really lacks is balance, any ability to temper her extremes. This is part of her character throughout her forms: she’s always very extreme.

Pink fits into those older tropes, too: the restless princess, the little Winsor McCay clown.

Pink is pure want. Impulse, desire—she’s infectious. She is the flip side of White; she can bring out a Gem’s hidden personality—their deepest wants. This isn’t necessarily a Diamond power (she has a handful of Diamond powers both destructive and constructive), but she has this power in a very human sense. She is an enabler and very manipulative when it comes to getting what she wants, so when what she wants is to get closer to someone, her intensity, and her sincerity, opens them up and draws them in.

White and Pink were always clashing. The Diamond body repressed Pink’s wants, as directed by White, the self-critical conscience. Pink’s shield made it impossible for White to override Pink’s identity, so she had to find other ways to repress her.

Episodes like Bismuth make much more sense when you know that Rose is Pink, and even more sense when you understand how poorly Pink treated friends who became inconvenient.

Rose is tracked carefully through the entire show. She makes sense once you know she is her own worst enemy. She dreams, achingly, that she could become compassionate, because she’s sure she’s incapable of compassion. Her lack of respect for herself makes it impossible for her to respect everyone closest to her. She reveres them instead, because they are better than she could ever be, and that reverence is so honest and intoxicating that it draws everyone closer to her, without them understanding the deep self-hatred that pull is coming from.

She couldn’t stand herself; self-destruction is a huge theme throughout the show—the struggle of the feeling that you shouldn’t exist, and what that can do to a person. A lot of the themes of the show exist within Rose, like her inability to be honest with other people or herself about what she’s done. She’s so deeply ashamed of herself and her past, with very good reason. The truth is that the people in her life would be so much more understanding than she believes they will be. The contempt that she has for herself gets turned outward as contempt for other people when she can’t trust them. When she can’t trust herself, she can’t trust other people, and it makes it impossible for her to be close with anyone. It makes life extremely difficult for her. It makes living difficult for her.

Rose wants [honesty and trust and being able to grow and change] so badly, but she can’t really accomplish any of that until she accepts herself—and she never does.

quotes from rebecca sugar: on rose and greg

Rose and Greg have a very specific relationship. They parallel each other: Greg left his unsupportive family to follow his dreams. He changes his name and begins living as his stage persona...He invents himself.

Rose is instantly interested in Greg; he’s so human, sweet and funny and pliable. But as they get a little deeper into their relationship, Greg starts to realize how alien she actually is. She objectifies him, she laughs at him...she can’t seem to relate to him or pick up on how he’s feeling. They have a physical relationship, but they’ve never had a meaningful conversation. He starts to feel used. So he challenges her in a way she’s never been challenged before: he asks her to treat him like an equal. This is huge for her. She’s always been less than the other Diamonds and more than everyone else. She opens up to him in a real way, and over time she’s ready to confess everything to him. But he understands what it is to run away from home and reinvent yourself. He doesn’t need her old name and he’s not going to drag her through whatever it was she ran from; as far as he’s concerned, her old self isn’t the real her anyway. The real her is her in the present, the person she decided to be. [...] This is an incredible relief for her! With him, she can live authentically in the moment...They both can, but on the flip side, they enable each other. She never unpacks what scares her about her past, and neither does he.

They really wanted to have a child [...] It’s something they are genuinely excited about. And that’s something that’s left a little open-ended—just how selfish it was for Rose to do this knowing that she would disappear. What Rose is doing is outrageously selfless and outrageously selfish at the same time, and you can really read it both ways and neither is untrue.

chart notes: on pink diamond/rose quartz

Pink learns to keep secrets. She tells her new Pearl to keep them too. (She puts on an act. Behaves better.) She doesn’t trust herself...keeps asking her Pearl what to do...

The Game: Rose plays Batman on the ground. (Pearl is Robin and Alfred.) Pink tries to use Rose as an excuse to call off the invasion. This backfires when Blue and Yellow send in reinforcements.

Rose finds herself the head of a family. Determined to be everything White was not—she is close with everyone, flexible in everything. Love & fun are the rule—and there are no rules—and everyone is the most special!

chart notes: on rose and the crystal gems

Pink keeps asking Pearl what she thinks. Pearl understands she should have no opinions, and should follow orders. She is caught in a paradox. Her head swims. She laughs—feels scared—what is this?

Pearl is falling in love. Pink, as Rose, is intoxicating. She’s free somehow. They both are, when they’re on Earth.

Rose falls in love with Pearl’s surprising boldness that comes out of left field—!

Pearl and Rose start fusing a lot.

Pearl and Rose—the dust clears, revealing an endless honeymoon. Pink is gone and Pearl is free—free to love Rose.

Garnet trusts Rose, respects her secrets. She sees in Rose a self-made gem, a quartz that transcended her station out of sheer will and the power of self-love. Garnet loves Rose and her mystery, the way she learns to love & embrace the mystery of herself. Rose is her rock and inspiration.

Rose teaches Amethyst: you can be anything you want to be! Huge advocate of shapeshifting, self-expression, anarchy—however, Amethyst can sense shame from Rose and Pearl over the Kindergarten.

chart notes: on rose and the crystal gems, post-pink diamond reveal

Amethyst finally understands Rose: wanting her to shapeshift, not feel obligated to be a quartz, suddenly feels sympathy...kinship. It wasn’t Amethyst being inspired by Rose—Rose was inspired by them!

Garnet shocked: Rose taught her to love herself. If that was a lie—if Pink Diamond was self-hating, and wanted to disappear—than what does that mean for Garnet? No—it wasn’t Garnet being inspired by Rose—Rose was inspired by them!

Pearl is finally released—but, a rift—! Garnet feels betrayed! But, Pink did change! Pink did grow! Rose was different! That’s why Pearl was inspired by Rose—or, wait—Rose was inspired by them!

chart notes: on pink and the other diamonds

Pink, the littlest diamond, is largely ignored by Yellow, Blue, and White. Her silly impulses and eccentricities are not particularly helpful to the other diamonds in their endeavors. No one wants to play with her. Pink desperately wants White’s attention and approval (she will never get it).

Pink’s [original] Pearl is the only one who sees how much this upsets Pink. Pink is bright in front of Yellow, Blue, White—but when they don’t have time for her, she privately takes it hard.

Noticing Pink’s behavior, Yellow and Blue think she should have her own colony. White insists—she hasn’t really changed. She’ll never change. She gives Pink a colony—if only to prove Pink will fail.

White knows Pink is out there. This expensive, embarrassing tantrum is not worth her attention. Pink will come groveling back when she’s done running away from home.

Yellow and Blue are relieved to have Pink back—but White is vindicated. I knew you’d be back, your silly game is over—get back in place.

Steven gets Yellow and Blue to understand who he is now. But White won’t have it [...] In an ultimate act of self love, Steven fuses with himself, as White realizes—she can be wrong, and she’s truly lost her ‘daughter’.

#steven universe #end of an era #pink diamond #rose quartz #eoae spoilers #su spoilers #rose

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jujutsu-headcanons · 4 years

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Team Tokyo First Years Headcanons

(Ft. Yuji, Megumi, Nobara, Gojo & Sukuna)

Gojo created a group chat with all three students to coordinate things. However, he never knows if Megumi reads the texts because he never says anything (he does), and all Yuji does is send memes, so basically that's its only function now.

Yuji and Nobara created a game: try to take a picture of Gojo with his blindfold off. He takes it off frequently, it's just impossible to catch an image of it. Surprisingly, Megumi of all people has gotten the closest. If you squint, you can see the baby blues.

This escalated into "who can take the ugliest picture of someone without them looking", after capturing an image of Yuji standing next to Gojo's desk with almost four chins. Nobara discovered she has many bad angles and Gojo discovered he's photogenic from ALL angles.

Yuji likes to use Nobara's ugly pictures as reaction images and memes. At first, Nobara beat him up whenever he did, but now as long as they don't leave the first-year chat she doesn't care. She'll even supply them if she's feeling silly.

Gojo started a prank war on accident and it shows no sign of stopping. It started because he enjoys Nobara's over the top reactions. When she found the LIVE snake in her bed (oh boy, everyone's soooo lucky she's good with reptiles), she immediately suspected this was Yuji's doing. She pranked him, he got her back, Megumi walked into a prank on accident, he got them back twice over, and now it just won't stop. Gojo was fully prepared to deal with the consequences, but he isn't complaining.

The First Year prank war is pretty well known around the school, and everyone's learned to stay away from anything that looks suspicious.

Gojo uses this to his advantage too; sometimes he'll pull pranks on the first and even second years just to watch them blame each other. He's even gone as far as pranking Principal Yaga hoping that he would blame the kids, but Yaga knows for a fact it's Gojo. He hasn't done anything about it though. This stresses Gojo.

Most of the time, when they eat out, each student pays for their meal. When Gojo's there he pays for all four of them, and if Yuji tries to use the "I don't have any money" excuse when Nobara decides to stop for a coffee, she'll buy him one too. She holds it against him, though.

If his kids are all craving a certain type of food (i.e. Chinese) Gojo will head out and pick it up and they'll all eat as a family.

Nobara proposed once a month they have a "spa" day. Surprisingly, the other two students agreed. She's allowed to give them manicures and pedicures (so long as she doesn't get carried away), trim and treat their hair, exfoliate their faces, and they help her re-dye her hair. Megumi is a good client, while Yuji gets bitched at a lot for squirming while getting his nails clipped and jerking when he gets his eyebrows plucked.

Yuji also proposed they have a movie night every Friday night. If they're busy, they'll move it to Saturday, or have it earlier in the day during the week. Sometimes the second years will join. Gojo is banned because he's basically seen every movie and always spoils the end. Everyone got mad at Yuji's request to use subtitles but gave up arguing with how loud Yuji chews.

They also have game nights, but they lost the pieces to most board games after Nobara threw them out the window, Megumi is the only one who knows how to play chess and Shogi, and Yuji fears the safety of his controllers after Megumi got dangerously close to beating Nobara in Smash.

Yuji's room is the main hangout joint because of the electronics he owns. Literally, there's a whole ass common/living room for them to use. However, they go to Nobara's room for a spa day, as long as the boys are gone by sundown.

Gojo knows damn good and well his kids don't like each other in that way and would never have sex with each other, but he still feels the need to give them the talk ™. He's literally given each child a free box of condoms just in case.

Gojo bought each student customized "if lost, please return to Jujutsu Tech" shirts. Yuji doesn't mind wearing his because it's just another hoodie to him, and Nobara doesn't mind hers because it's a crop top and it's cute. Megumi burned his in front of Gojo.

Nobara takes the boys shopping a lot. Megumi is surprisingly good at picking out clothes that fit Nobara's physique and taste, and Yuji is there to hype her up when she walks out of the dressing room. He also isn't scared to tell her a dress doesn't look good on her, and she respects that.

Sometimes even Sukuna will pop out and give commentary. He gives really mixed signals, sometimes he tells her how she's not much to look at, sometimes he talks about the things he wants to do to that ass because of how good they look in those jeans. This results in Yuji getting slapped, Nobara yelling something like "Shut it, Fang Face!" And people staring at him funny because of it.

She also buys outfits for the boys and occasionally Gojo, because she's tired of hoodies and black. She was just as shocked as the rest when Megumi walked out in his outfit. He only wore it to shut her up, though, and hasn't worn it since.

No matter what they're doing, Yuji is ALWAYS the DJ. He has playlists for almost every occasion (spa day, sparring practice, car rides, game nights, even the times they just chill in the same room on their phones) and the only person that really complains is Sukuna, but only because he hates the Backstreet Boys.

Yuji bursts out in song a lot. No matter what he's doing, he'll just start singing. If they know it, Nobara and Gojo will join in too. Always ends in a giggle fit.

Sometimes Gojo's hand slips and boom! He has 18 dozen cookies instead of 4. He's been known to wrap the cookies up in nice tins and packages and leave them outside the kid's doors.

Gojo has also been known to cook meals for the kids and drop them off. This helps because Megumi is basically the only one who can actually cook. Yuji thinks instant ramen is okay for every meal, and Nobara burns food in a way it's still edible but you don't really want it.

The kids play wrestle, a lot. Yuji was scared to at first because the only one who really wants to fight is Nobara, but he learned quickly she can both take and deliver a punch just fine. She also isn't one of those girls that gets upset if there's an accidental grope, which is cool.

This is how the others discovered Megumi is ticklish. Yuji probably still has the scar and Nobara doesn't dare try to tickle him again.

Yuji fell asleep once and woke up to Sukuna's mouth on his cheek having a full-blown conversation with Nobara while she was reading a magazine. He swears they were gossiping about boys, but as soon as Yuji was awake enough to pay attention, Sukuna noticed and started bullying him. To this day Nobara still thinks she was talking to Yuji the whole time because she never noticed he fell asleep.

Yuji can fall asleep almost anywhere. Nobara draws on his face a lot. He's spent countless nights on Megumi's floor just because he's too lazy to move literally one room over.

Nobara has a habit of walking into the boys' rooms without knocking. Megumi is usually laying in bed on his phone or sitting at his desk, however, she's walked into Yuji doing some weird shit. Not gross shit, just... Concerning shit.

Once she walked in on him crying and didn't know what to do. She just kinda walked in and sat down with him until he stopped, occasionally rubbing his back. They didn't say a word until Yuji made a joke and Nobara continued with why she even came into his room, to begin with.

The three students are surprisingly supportive of each other like that, it's just kinda awkward and passive-aggressive at times. Sometimes they even confide in Gojo, and he takes it seriously, surprisingly.

Gojo has a Tik Tok account. He participates in every challenge, every dance, every trend, and apparently has a huge following. Yuji gets featured in the videos sometimes when he isn't recording, and he's mostly doing the stupid shit Gojo does, like doing backflips on building ledges.

While Tik Tok is Gojo's forte Yuji has done video game commentary on twitch and yt live. Megumi is quite popular on subreddits about urban legends and related folklore, and Nobara helps maintain blogs about current events, but... It's mostly celebrity gossip and new music.

Every Saturday is chore day and no one's allowed to do leisurely activities or leave until they're done. Rooms and hallways have to be vacuumed, swept, mopped, whatever. Gojo checks that the rooms aren't dirty. He doesn't mind clutter, he just hates wrappers and shit being left around. He especially pays attention to the cleanliness of the bathrooms for some reason. Megumi is good about cleaning his room throughout the week, Nobara usually just has clutter on her nightstand and dresser, and Yuji waits until the last minute to clean.

The first years used to do their laundry separately, but Nobara threw a temper tantrum when she witnessed Yuji just throw all of his clothes in the washer at once and simply turn it on. Now normally, she wouldn't help anyone get out of work, but she also likes things being done the right her way, so she does his laundry for him. Megumi got involved somehow and now they throw all of their clothes in the same basket and divide them by darks, colors, whites, and delicates. She refuses to let any of their overly- soiled clothes touch hers, so those usually get their own wash too. Each student folds and puts away their own clothes.

Most arguments end with rock paper scissors. Pinkie promises are also sacred.

Gojo keeps a sticker board in the classroom. Whenever the kids do something good, they get a star. Whenever they do something bad, one gets taken away. When they get to five stickers they get a prize from the treasure box.

No one has gotten to five stars yet. This is good because there is no treasure box. Gojo is bullshitting everyone.

Yuji likes to steal Megumi's stickers because he thinks Megumi will not notice. He does every time.

Gojo has a stool in the corner of the classroom complete with a horribly cliche dunce cap he calls "the Naughty Corner" for when the kids "act up". Nobara ends up there because she's always on her phone, Megumi mouths off a lot and has days where he doesn't feel like doing work, and poor Yuji ends up in the naughty corner because Sukuna can't behave.

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daringyounggrayson · 3 years

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misplaced guilt

(Read below or on AO3)

It’s been a while since Bruce has been to one of these galas, and for once, he is neither hosting nor making a speech. It’s a nice change, to say the least.

Dick is sitting next to him, kicking his legs under the table. Bruce would tell him to stop, but at least he’s actually using the chair as intended with both feet closer to the floor than the chair, so Bruce lets it go for the moment. If it gets too out of control, he can always reach out and stop him, but for now, he’ll let the kid release some pent-up energy.

Bruce keeps half of his attention on Dick and the other half on his conversation with Jasmine Owen, a woman who works at one of Gotham’s youth centers. Bruce knew from the second she introduced herself that she came over in hopes of getting a donation, but he doesn’t mind; that’s one of the main purposes of these things, and Bruce is happy to help however he can.

“Babs,” Dick gasps excitedly, shooting upright when he catches Barbara walk into the room, Commissioner Gordon by her side. Bruce looks over at Dick, quirking an eyebrow. Dick smiles back, asks in his I’m-in-public-so-I’m-behaving-like-an-angel voice, “May I please be excused?”

“Hnn,” Bruce says, pretending to think over his answer.

“Bruce,” Dick whines.

Bruce smiles. “Alright. But stay in the ballroom. Dinner is going to be served soon.”

“Okay, thanks!” he slides out of his chair and offers a wave. “Nice meeting you, Ms. Owen.”

“And you, Richard,” she smiles back. When he’s gone, she turns to Bruce again and says, “He’s a sweet kid.”

Bruce can’t help but think at least in public, and at least to people who aren’t me. He’s half-joking, but there’s some truth to the statement: Dick has always seemed to behave better for Alfred, and he’s nothing if not an angel around strangers, even when he’s mad at Bruce.

At home, it’s not that Dick isn’t a good kid—he is—but he’s still a kid. Dick can be sassy, and he has a taste for anything that will make Bruce’s hair turn gray (usually dangerous, usually far away from the ground). He also has no qualms about making fun of Bruce when Dick feels it’s called for. Then there are the arguments, the borderline tantrums. Both have been decreasing in frequency, and Bruce attributes most of them to processing and coming to terms with his parents’ murder, but they are—difficult, to say the least. Dick will have these rough days—sometimes rough weeks—where he’ll lash out at Bruce over the smallest things. Sometimes it seems like he yells at Bruce just to put his hurt somewhere.

Bruce tries to take all of it—from the jokes at his expense that even he has to admit are funny, to the meltdowns—as a good sign, one that says Dick feels secure and knows that Bruce will love him regardless of his behavior or attitude. But there are certainly days when Bruce thinks it would be nice if Dick would listen to him like he listens to Alfred—like when Bruce tells him to get off of the unstable shed roof, for example.

Despite the challenges that come with raising a child, there are also so many blessings. There’s no other word to describe it. Seeing Dick learn and grow and thrive is something Bruce will never get tired of. On top of that, Dick is just this brilliant, funny, and kind child. He has the biggest heart Bruce has ever seen, and he cares so deeply and widely. Bruce doesn’t know how he got so lucky. Dick is Bruce’s light, his whole world.

Bruce pulls himself out of his head, says, “He’s the best thing that has ever happened to me.” It’s something he can say with complete honesty. “Do you have kids?”

“Oh god, no. I think I’m still a little young for that,” she laughs. Then, thinking about what she said, her face falls. “Not that you were too young, just for me, I’d rather—”

“No, no, it’s fine.” He puts his hands up and smiles. “I was really young when I took Dick in. I go to parent-teacher conferences, and most of the other parents are at least ten years older than me. But I like to think I’m doing alright, and Dick’s happy, so that’s all that matters.”

“Yes, I suppose.” She smiles, but looks down at the table.

“So, what’s it like day-to-day at the youth center?”

She looks up, coming alive again, and the conversation picks back up.

oOo

After dinner, Dick and Barbara disappear again, and Bruce is left alone to mingle. Most people come to him, but he only has to escape a few times, so it’s going about as good as these things can go.

That is until a very urgent Barbara runs into him and tugs on his arm. “Sorry everyone, but I need to borrow Brucie for a second.”

Bruce ducks down to look Barbara in the eye. “What is it?”

“Dick. Just come with me.”

He follows her without another word to the group of people he was talking to. She leads him into the hall and toward the lobby. When they turn the corner, Dick is on the ground in a lateral recumbent position. Gordon is talking to him gently, though Dick seems unresponsive.

“Dick.” Bruce lurches forward, falling to his knees and reaching out to find Dick’s pulse and check his breathing. “What happened?”

“Barbara thinks he had a seizure,” Gordon answers. “An ambulance will be here soon.”

Dick’s breath hitches and he lets out a low moan that feels like a twisting dagger in Bruce’s chest. His eyes find Bruce’s, and he unwraps one hand from his stomach to reach for Bruce’s. Bruce takes it, squeezing it gently in a reassuring manner.

“I’m right here,” Bruce promises, running a hand through Dick’s hair.

“It hurts,” Dick gasps.

“Shh, the paramedics are going to be here soon. We’ll fix it.”

Dick shakes his head and squeezes his eyes shut. “I don’t feel right.”

Bruce tightens his grip slightly, hoping to keep Dick conscious. “What’s wrong? Where does it hurt?”

“Head, stomach,” Dick mumbles. “Feel hot, an’ dizzy.”

Bruce frowns, trying to determine what could be causing Dick’s symptoms. Is this the beginning of an illness, or a seizure disorder? Has Dick been poisoned? There was a run-in with Scarecrow a few nights ago, and Dick had needed to take an untested antidote for the fear toxin. Could this be a delayed reaction to the concoction Bruce had come up with?

Dick’s grip loosens.

“Dick?” Bruce calls urgently. “Dick!”

He gets no response.

oOo

Dick is staring at a white ceiling when he realizes he’s awake. Sunlight is streaming in through a giant window on his right, and there’s a framed painting of giraffes across from him. He’s tired and confused, and his gut tells him that something is wrong, that something bad happened. His first thought is that he wants his mom.

He turns his head to the left, finding Bruce in a chair and holding his hand.

“Hi,” Dick says, slowly pushing himself into a sitting position. Bruce grunts some kind of greeting and raises Dick’s bed while Dick takes in the medical bracelets on his wrist—one ID bracelet and one that indicates that he’s a fall risk—and the IV in the back of his hand. “What happened?”

Bruce shifts in his chair, face serious. “We were at the gala. You were poisoned.”

Dick matches Bruce’s expression, trying to think. He remembers being with Babs, telling her that something was wrong. Then he’d been on the ground, and there’d been sirens.

“The man who poisoned you had planned to offer me the antidote for a price, but he didn’t realize that you would react to the poison so—so severely,” Bruce explains, rubbing his thumb over Dick’s knuckles. “He was working as one of the waiters and heard the commotion. He came forward shortly after the ambulance left and he’s currently in custody.”

Dick swallows. “Why did he . . .” Why did he poison Dick in the first place? Need money so badly? Feel that poisoning Dick was the only option? “Would it have killed me? If he didn’t give us the antidote.”

Bruce, like always, is honest with Dick. “The doctors were able to stabilize you, but they needed to neutralize the poison quickly, and the antidote did that. It’s hard to say what would have happened without it, but things were touch and go for a while.”

Dick nods, not sure what to say as he takes it in. Eventually, he asks, “How long have I been out?”

“A few days. You woke up a few times yesterday, but you were incoherent,” Bruce says.

Dick wracks his brain, trying to pull up some inaccessible memory.

“I’m sorry that this happened, Dick.”

Dick squeezes Bruce’s hand. “Not your fault.”

“Hnn.”

“What? Are you seriously guilty that you didn’t taste all of my food first or something? ‘Cause that’s nuts, B.”

Bruce says, “You are my child. I am allowed to feel guilty when I fail to protect you.”

“You didn’t fail,” Dick interjects. “I’m okay—really.”

Bruce’s face is still pinched and concerned, and he’s looking at Dick like he might fall apart. Dick leans toward him and stretches his arms out, and Bruce quickly pulls him into a tight hug.

“I’m not going anywhere, Bruce,” Dick promises. And even to himself, it doesn’t sound like a reassurance most nine-year-olds should be giving. But it fits with his new life, he supposes. “I’m okay.”

Bruce tucks Dick’s head under his chin, says, “I was . . . I’m glad that you’re alright.”

Dick nods into Bruce’s chest and lets himself be held for another moment. It’s not the hug from his mom that he woke up wanting, but it’s close. It makes him feel safe and reminds him of home, and maybe that’s all Dick needs.

#dick grayson #bruce wayne #nightwing #batman #batfamily #tw: seizure #elizabeth writes

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muffindaddystyles · 3 years

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KISMETS (Part 2)

Harry Styles x fem!reader.

Slow burn, platonic love and bunch of affection.

Fluff! Smut! Smut!

Frenemies to lovers, dad!Harry, Bestfriend!Harry.

Author's Note: The concept's kinda weird but if you've watched F.R.I.E.N.D.S and Phoebe Buffay carrying child for someone. You've got it my pal!

MASTERLIST PART ONE PART 3

"Oh pet . . you're jealous innit?" He swipes the tip of his finger over the waffle picking the puff of cream and swallowing it whole, "'M not! Why'd I be?" She squeals kicking at his boots.

"Always told me y'had a candy crush at Harold." He smirks mischievously. Spitting truth. She smacks his bicep with a wide open mouth.

Y/N's carrying Harry's babies and is trying not be angry at him for pulling her into all of this with him.

Red's everywhere. It makes her pout. Everyone have someone to celebrate the day but she's the only one giving careless ears to Niall who's sitting opposite from her in the crispy lilac heart booth, "Mean ye' fought again with him?" He stirs the mango bobas in his drink wiggling his brows at her to fill him with some tea. She gasps full of drama and surprises, "What d'ya mean 'again? D'ya think 'm this crackhead that rips people in two for no-reason?" She whispers the last part when a waitress passed by them.

"No. Pet what 'm sayin' is --- you're too, feisty with Harry." He chuckles leaning to meet her betrayed gaze, "Did he bribe you with new golf stick? You've switched sides." She juts her bottom lip wet from pink marmalade drink and startles in her spot when Niall cackled ever so loud at her silliness.

"I just tol' him to go through Chessie marathon somewhere else than my home." Harry was at her flat as always. She was making red velvet strawberry flavoured muffins for the moment ( promised not to give it to Harry — "even if he'll beg") and then she fulfilled her promise when she saw him going through his pictures together with Chessie. The jealous little Y/N jumped out from her polite skin and she just tinsy bit mocked him, "I'd never look back at the person who'd have left me and my children. . ." That broke a mighty bit argument between the two idiots. How they're gonna take care of two babies when they themselves need a person to put them away from eachother?

"Oh pet . . you're jealous innit?" He swipes the tip of his finger over the waffle picking the puff of cream and swallowing it whole, "'M not! Why'd I be?" She squeals kicking at his boots.

"Always told me y'had a candy crush at Harold." He smirks mischievously. Spitting truth. She smacks his bicep with a wide open mouth. Sighing he grabs Y/N's hand knocking some sense into mama bear gently and making her nod with the each advice, "'s valentine's day 'course he misses her. His wounds are fresh they need ointment babe -- You've always been so good with him, what's the matter now?"

She circles her fingers round eachother. Sucking her lip harshly and not meeting Niall's intense stare, "Turns me mad that 'cos of one person we're here now." She mumbles caressing the belly button protruding from the flimsy fabric of her oversized hoodie.

"It's the fate, pet. Always tol' me how much you liked kids." She shakes her head in denial. "Not in this situation where 'm lost and doesn't know how it'll work out — " He cuts her off with concern.

"Talked to Harry bout it?" When she again denies he asks, "What you're gonna do about it then?"

"Dunno. Share?" She's new to all of this. What did she actually mean was that they could do it like how divorce parents do it, maybe? Doesn't know how Harry wants to handle the situation just leading a blind eye with him. Hasn't even considered getting ready for the life that'll come along with them.

"They're babies not a packet of crisps, Y/N!." He burst into giggles and she huffs slumping against the foggy window, "Pain in arse you're." She scoffs that pout still intact the whole time while Niall keeps on giggling finding it too funny.

. . .

Walking from the elevator to her flat's door seems like hiking a mountain for her and cherry ontop that the stares she gets from her neighbours is full of judgments. It makes her want to hide underneath her blankets and never pop her head out. Her brows coming together in wonder at the sight of small wood basket at her doorsteps.

"Oh my god don't tell me someone left a baby at my doorsteps, Hello!!!??" She spins here and there but finds no-one but empty hallways when a feeble sound coming from inside it almost made her tumble on her bum. The last thing she wants is not another baby. With a grunty noise she ducks down to lift the basket supporting it at her belly and unlocking the door while trying to squint inside it.

When she throws the lid away a fuzzy little grey creature with big mossy eyes was pawing in air needy for attention, a red choker with heart in centre around her lil neck. It almost brought her to tears. Blame her being extremely emotional these days.

"Awww. Hi!" She fawns picking it up from armpits inspecting the miracle kitten that's here outta no where. A crumpled note laying in the basket with a bunch of colourful disoriented flowers.

"'M sorry fo' throwin' a tantrum and leavin' all fussy. This's oreo. I want her to grow along my kids! Also forgive mee plssssss?"

She giggles throwing her head back snuggling oreo against her throat as she meowed adorably sweet, "Daddy's such a daft ehh?" She says in between breaths petting the new addition to her loved ones.

The first thing she does is call him and he picks on the very ring as if anticipating for it, "Come back home you fool." His smile was infectious as he taps his feet in his car a lil over joyed at the thought.

"So generous." Running upstairs as he used to in oast with anticipation to spill the tea of his day to her in any hour of the day. The door was already open, them standing at the either boundary line of flat. His first priority's always to shower his babies in evermost affection. Falls to his knees smushing his face to her belly quenching outta a ribs aching laugh from her as he caress his cheeks against the soft side of her womb murmuring things that's a secret between him and his babies.

"Hey Angels!" He greets them patching a loving tight kiss atop her belly button that tickles her softly, stands up and meets her teary gaze from laughing with much serenity it knocks breath from her, "Hi mama angel." His whisper fuses against her skin while kissing her cheek.

"Hi. ." She inhales in his woodish vanilla scent. Preventing from melting into his arms she pulls him back from shoulders grinning at him, "Let's ruin valentines watchin' Anne Hathaway's romcom." He tuts instead leading her with him to the sofa.

"Can't be better than that –— let me pop in some popcorns real quick."

. . .

The yellow carpeted floor's littered with candy wrappers, packets of half folded crisps, peach sodas and an empty bowl of popcorns. Oreo snoozing in her basket. They're on their fourth romcom. Her legs in his lap. His's on coffee table. He chuckles everytime she takes almost three minutes to be in a comfortable position, ushering her to sit up so he could put cushions under her.

"Are you craving nama chocolates?" She eyes him nipping at her blanket trying to snuggle closer to him. He runs his thumb at her shoulder blade in soothing circles peering down at her, "'m not pregnant. ye're moppet. havin' a sweet tooth?" When she nods sheepishly he shakes his head quickly hoping on his feet.

"Don't be shy --- dunno where ye' got this giddiness from, 'm your bestie. Gotta tell me yeah? Lemme grab me jacket." He grabs her from wrists helping her up and goes to her wardrobe to get her fist gloves, beanie and warm slippers.

When hears her huffing and puffing grunty-ly his head perks up with brows furrowed, "What's it babe?" He pads towards her and when she turns for him to have a look the zip of her jacket bursts open all the way to end revealing her bump.

She pouts sadly, "Nothin' fits me anymore." He just smiles adorning the same puppy look in his eyes as her's to light up the tension.

"I'll buy ye' new. Those cute maternity clothes, ehh?" Shimmies down the clothing from her shoulders, "oi you don't have to!" She retorts and he bobs his head taking his own puffer jacket off to wrap it round her small body.

"Yes I do." He mumbles zipping her all the way up warm and squishy in his jacket three sizes larger than her. Pulls her hair out and cups the nape of her neck with his calloused soft palm bringing her closer to feather a delicate kiss to her temple, ". . .deserves more than just clothes — deserves the world always gonna be thankful to ye, pet." She gulps the cobweb of silence down her throat fiddling with the hem of his sweater.

"What you'll wear? 'S cold." He gives her an elfin grin flaring a baby pink knitted cardigan he sneaked from her wardrobe, "Harry!" She squeals with a giggle, "You're gonna look like grann Matlinda."

"Ehm. 'etter not forget to send her a picture when 'm matchin' with her." He quips snapping his fingers.

. . .

They walk over the glittery layer of slushie snow and Harry walks infront of her two steps at a time capturing pictures of her as she prowls carefully trying to move the hood away from blocking her vision, "Ye'r walkin' like a penguin -- cutie!" He giggles with each echo of flash.

"Look who's saying an otter himself!" She mimics him and he blushes under the mellowness of street lamp. They're champs at pulling eachother's legs.

"It's soooooo slippery." She complains wiggling her fingers from under the sleeve, "Grab me hand 'n don't leave it kay?" He smiles like advising a three year old who's afraid of crowds in a market. His grip warm and safe for her.

. . .

"Aish. gimme gimme!" She gets all jumpy on her toes when Harry comes out of the shop with a box of chocolates and two sticks. "'Ey greedy pup." He chuckles booping her button nose opening the silky lid of box revealing the velvety delcious chocolates. He picks the stick up taking a piece of chocolate with it and hovering it over her little mouth. Scrunching his nose at how adorable she gets the moment she chews it.

"Hmm. 'S so soft!" She gulps wetting her cold lip getting all butterfly feeling when she catches him gazing down at her as if she hung the moon and saturns. Raises her brow for an inquiry if he's okay tugging him closer with a gentle clutch to his cardigan.

Their surroundings turning into ice crystals of blur carelessness, the noises of glimmering lights into lulls of whisper and their bodies cocooning into snuggly blanket when Harry's fingertips fluttered tenderly against her cheeks glueing her at the spot. Leans in to press his lips softly to her plush sweet ones in a heartwarming caring kiss that flooded her veins with warmth and made her brain mushy unable to think.

"Yours are softer lil penguin." He murmurs stroking the corner of her mouth and smirks when she squeaks a thank you in return.

"Such a cutie." He cooes squishing her blushed cheeks and kissing each of them with loud wet noise till she pushed him away wiping his wetness with a pout. "'M highly offended pet ya never used to wipe me kisses away."

She shuts him up by stuffing a chocolate in his mouth. Walking back home with his arms wrapped around her protectively as he comes up with silly jokes whole way.

. . .

Everything reminds her of him. That fuzz of kitten. The empty box of chocolate. Couldn't even focus on the work she's doing on her laptop. It's just that gooey feeling never left ---- now it has gotten stronger with it's mushk when Harry kissed her under that beautiful sky of wintery lilacs. If he's playing with her feelings he better not cause she'll break him in two in that case.

He was out shopping clothes for her when she texted him if he'll like to eat roasted chicken she made for lunch. The mere thought of him caring for her brings her to tears because before him nobody was there except only him that knew her from the depths of her heart.

"You look pretty. . ." She finds typing hard while laughing this loud as Harry sent her mirror pictures of him trying the maternity clothes himself that he's supposed to buy for her, "Thought a visual representation will be good idea ;)" He shrugs typing back with a grin standing bottom naked in the changing room getting a rolling eye emoji in return.

She yawns putting her phone aside when Harry got busy into his hunt for nice warm clothes for her. Something wasn't fine today. She's been changing sides for an hour now and she couldn't sleep. Her shoulders twitching with each blink of eye and when she finally slips into a light conscious sleep a bone rattling pain shoots through her whole damn body. She jolts from the state of haze and tries to sit up when another zap of pain makes her feel limbless. A feeble grunt of helping cry fizzes out of her when she feels a cramp at the bottom of her spine.

In her panicked state she fumbles for her phone dialing the first emergency number doesn't give him a chance to speak before she's yelling into receiver out of anxiousness, "Harry somethin' not right! — 'm m havin' these contractions —--" He's been out dining with Niall and shoots from his seat the minute her worried voice reached his ear.

"It's okay, lovie. yeah? 'M comin' take deep breaths how we practiced —-- I'll be there in a mo'." He assures her in his softest most pacific rasp but she shakes her head vigorously tears brimming in her sleepy eyes. Oreo tries to comfort her by sitting in her lap and rubbing her crown against her tummy.

"They aren't supposed to come this early . . . fo' fucks sake haven't even started my third trimester!" Harry doesn't know what to do except of consoling her and fidgeting around as Niall drives the car with same expressions of anxiousness and panic as Harry.

"Oh . . It's gone." She frowns in confusion able to sit now and it takes a little of burden away from Harry. He listens to the rustling going on her side jumping on his bum almost screaming into phone, "Stay where you're don' move!"

"Oh my god. They're back I'm not ready for this . . I'm not ready for this Harry." She cries and Harry even leaves Niall behind squeezing into the elevator fingers crossed at his back.

"'M here. Call our midwife can ye' do that fo' me, puppy?" She sniffs nodding to herself. Calling their assisted midwife with shaky fingers and tries to breath looking up at the ceiling.

In the meantime Harry's barging through the door pacing towards her in hurries steps. His face pale that if he has seen a ghost. She tries to saturate the distance between them knowing at this moment how much she wants him in her life.

He sits her back carefully crouches down and wipes her tears away, "'m so scared . ." She whispers squeezing his biceps and her phone's still ringing atop the sheets, "Don't be baby. Ye' have me — 'm not leavin' yer side."

He massages the dimples of her spine and runs warm hands at her sides to calm her down when their midwife picks up their call, "Hi. Is everything okay?"

"No Y/N's havin' these light contractions 'n 's not even the time of her labour." There's a pause from her side and Y/N bolts a worried glance at Harry in return he cradles her cheek to assure her.

"Oh . . that's nothin' to worry bout Mr. Styles. Those're some mild braxton hicks she might have mistaken with labour contractions." They both takes a sigh of relief but the little tick of pain keeps on coming and subsiding.

"They start at the beginning of third trimester, Y/N are you still getting 'em?" She asks her and Y/N clears her throat tugging the sheet beside her.

"Yes but less painful. Is that okay though?"

"Completely okay. Harry rest her against the headboard and push her knees upto her chest they'll be gone in a snap." He nods at her instructions helping Y/N lean against the headboard of bed gently and scooting between her thighs to do as she told.

"Better?" He whispers glancing up at her while wrapping his hands around her bended calves and pushing it slowly against her front, the move relaxing her pelvic muscles. Her head lulls at her shoulders from the effect and she hums from throat making Harry choke on his own spit.

He dares not to drift his gaze from her rigid features which are loosing it's tightness seconds after. Their breaths erratic from the humidity of sexual tension in the room when Y/N gets back to normal diverting her all attention to Harry who has his head tucked between her fleshy thighs. A blush creeping at her flushed cheeks and Harry gives her a flustered chuckle kissing the top of her knee to answer back Miss. Dori who's been asking how's Y/N.

"Stay hydrated and don't forget to take your vitamins." Saying this she ends the call. Y/N takes a huge sigh of relief spreading her legs back and Harry squeezes her ankles, "When was the last time you had a glass water?"

"Two hours ago." He rolls his eyes. "Supposed to be drinkin' every hour . . dehydration's s' unhealthy fo' you pet." He leaves the bed meandering through her wardrobe taking out a bag with Oreo in his armpit.

"What're you doing?" She gasps with wide eyes looking back at Niall who's still standing at the doorframe. God. It's so embarrassing he had to watch all of that. Now, he'll never not stop teasing her about it.

"Packin' 'cos ye're stayin' with me. No protests." Like she was going to. She loves to stay at his house. His guest room's mattress is such a royalty to sleep at.

. . .

When he tucks her under the layers of blanket she decides it's still not warm enough and grabs at his wrist when he was about to leave, "Can we cuddle please?" His lips quirks up with happiness and he crawls to the empty side of bed still letting her hold onto him. Slipping beside her to canoodle her cosily against his front nuzzling his face into the crook of her neck with "mhmpm." sounds of exhaustion.

"Anytime." Her eyelids slip shutting from the comfort he brings along with him, "ye' okay now?" His lips leaves it's sparkle at her skin as he mumbles spooning her from behind and spreads his palm wide atop her belly protectively. She nods cuddling into his bicep kissing the inside of his elbow and slips into darkness just with the song of his breath.

"Good night Angel."

. . .

She wakes up to the ruckus going outside and gurgling stomach from hunger. Pinches the blanket around her head and waddles outside yawning her way. Harry making brekkie in the kitchen, a grinder running, and waffles sizzling as he himself is moving around like Remy the Rat in ratatouille. His muscles stretching out with each haste motion and it made her tummy stir. She's been trying not be horny but it proves to be the hardest task when he's always around being that charming and alluring.

"Pet!" He grins spinning with a VR camera in his hand that makes her giggle, "What you're doing?" She giggles trying to hike up the stool.

"Recording the days with our babies until it's labour." Immediately he's at her side helping her sit up putting the camera at the counter and Y/N waves at it adorably voice low and sleepy, "Hi babies it's me your mommy." It catches Harry off guard. His heart shaped mouth baubles into awed expression as he blinks the shock away from his vision looking down at her.

"What happened?" She asks him in concern but he shakes his head pecking her hair and handing her the camera to go back to prepare brekkie — moreso to recover from the happy surprise of her acceptance or he might scream into these four walls.

He's got a heart of gold. Pure from the selfish intentions and full of love. He thinks he's an utter dimwit for neglecting his feelings for his own fucking bestfriend and finding love into places that were never meant for him. Now, he can't think of someone else as the mother of his children except her.

He smiles wet-ly to himself. Waterline stinging from the sweet epiphany that they're really gonna be parents. Together. That she's his person. Who never left his side. Fulfilled his dream of becoming of a dad when his own girlfriend backed out cowardly. What did he do to get her written in his fate?

"Would we get to eat in this hour of day Chef?" She quips elbow perched on the counter and chin resting in her palm. We. It makes his insides melt into squish of adoration and love for her, "Sorry! I know ye're hungry." He pouts apologetically putting the plates and a glass of smoothie infront of her tucking a napkin into her crew neck.

"I don't need that, pet!!" She laughs squeezing his thigh to refrain from falling -- for the fact she's the most clumsy person Harry knows, "look cute 's just all." He giggles back pulling his bottom lip that she has done a great job of flustering him this early in the morning — gonna be like that the whole darn day with the her words swimming in his mind hi babies it's me your mommy ——

"Hmm. It's so yummy!" She gives him a thumbs up leaning down to sponge a kiss to his cheek and his dimple milks against her lips from the shyness. He scrunches his nose as a cover up from blushieness else he might burst into lil confetti, "yeah?" His irirses twinkles impishly as he gave her an eskimo kiss.

They're so domestically in love. It's cute. Does thingies without knowing they've rocketed past the intense levels of intimacy.

When she whines at the end refusing to drink the green smoothie it's where he went all stern and daddy-ish with her. Pulling her into his lap, holding her wrists with his nimble finger and placing the rim of the glass at her lips encouraging her to drink, "I might puke." She tells him in a warning.

"Okay after drinking this." He declares not caring if she wrenches at him quiping with a pinch of brows petting her back.

"You're sucha meanie bro!" Bestfriend shit. More like lovers shit.

. . .

Blank staring is useless as fuck and mind tiring even if it's done sitting in the comfiest corner of sofa to get a watch of some piece of furniture, toys and clothes that litreally just belongs to little humans that are resting in her womb. There's this nice lady that Harry gave away all of this things to because she's having her third child and couldn't be able to afford this stuff for her baby, at the moment she's here to shift it.

"You don't have to --- I don't care. It's just some stuff you guys bought together." She had told him before he sat on the decision and once he makes up his mind nobody can make him act otherwise.

"Nope. Bought things fo' me babies by the choice of a person who wasn't even their mother in the first place, never deserved to be —-- would never be. We'll do everything from scratch . . ." His words held venom and hatred for her unlike the usual sadness and betrayal they carried weeks ago as he wrapped his forearm around her collarbones flushing her closer to his chest swaying in the living lounge, ". . . remember the plushies nan Matlinda gave ye' on ya eighteenth? Thinking it was yer thirteenth birthday? Found them from under me bed last night. Will throw 'em in the laundry and the descion will be on yours if ye' want them fo' yourself or your babies." She nods giggling and he joins her.

"'Course that'd be s' cute. My kids playin' with plushies that were once mine!" She clapped her hands atop her chest in sheer excitement.

At the moment, he flops onto sofa beside her with a dramatic huff after bidding the lady a warm good bye. Squeezing Y/N ankles as she's laying on her side. A pillow under her thigh for the ease purpose head on the other cushion, "Watching's the hardest work innit toots?" He grins impishly and she bobs her head with hooded eyes.

Rolling her shoulder to pop some joints to show her tiredness she's good at acting made him scoot closer to her immediately, "Actually yes — " Gets cut off with Harry getting really caring about her in instant.

"Lemme give ya good rub." His calloused palms starts it gentle pressure from the heels of her feet tricking up her calves and she hums sweetly with her face smushed into cushion. He does it for a minute, thumbing at her soles and popping her toes making her giggle lazily.

Her breaths turns warmer against the fabric when he glides his touch up her soft thighs running a trembling shiver into her blood and the coaxation from the daily tiredness plus the effect of him on her almost made her whine. Their breaths hitches at the same time his pinky brushes at the curve of her bossom peeking from underneath her pyjama shorts.

It makes her clench her thighs from the burn coiling in her tummy and it's embarrassing because he's doing nothing but giving her a rub. When the second time the pads of his supple fingers paints imaginaries at her skin she wiggles her cute ass and moans with an alluring stretch of throat when Harry slapped her arse playfully.

"'S good?" He rasps palming balmily her bossom ass hands gliding dangerously low to where she's pulsating with desire, "don't tease . ." She gives out a kitten-ish whine griping the corner of cushion to exhert the tension in her muscles. With a single glance to her deshilved state he slides his hand between her fleshy thighs pressing his lanky fingers against the wet splotch of her arousal from the only approximty of him.

"Jeez pet. ye'r absolute soakin'." He whispers circling her clit in tight circles from over her pyjamas and she ruts her hips in his hand for more. He hovers his fingers round the hem of her shorts testing the waters and if she really wants it ---- although she proves it with a groan indicating him to get rid of the material.

"Such a pretty bum 's a shame I got to touch it now." He traces the imprint of his redness on her skin making her hiss into her elbow and he pulls her over his lap; slowly feathering his touch between her pink slick folds down to her hole making her clinch around his digits trying to swallow them.

"S' tight babe. How long someone's been between these beautiful legs?" His words don't carry any taunt. It's just a genuine question. She gulps trying to escape the haze — couldn't when he's gliding his fingers non-stop in her wetness with dirty noises, "dunno . . don't remember!" She squeaks when he slides them inside her with ease from slickness caging a grunty moan that's threatening to slip from his lungs.

"It's been that long then . . ." He drawls out and Y/N's shook that she hasn't heard him in that tone ever before or maybe she's too floaty. This Harry intimidates her in a sweet way, makes her want to be blanketed under his warm weight always, to depend on him and be with him always. Makes her want to kiss him till the colours fade out and blossom back again with the witnesses of their love.

"Harry . ." She moans fogy-ly when he adds two more letting her stickiness drip down his thighs, "Yes baby." He giggles bashfully sneaking his arm under her shoulders to kiss her cheek.

"Gonna cum." She cries out softly nipping at his skin and he pushes his fingers deep till knuckles in her cunt pounding inside her with a pleasuring pressure, "Didn't stop ya." His little bubble kisses trails to the crook of her neck biting down to glitter hues of his affection for her.

"Oh my!" Her eyes popshut and thighs smack crampies his hand cumming on his fingers. Making a mess down his wrists, his trousers and the hem of his shirt. She purrs cheeks smashed near his thick thigh into velvet when he rubs her back to soothe her heated body down as that of a kitten, "Ye purrs are puttin' oreo to shame, moppet." He pushes her up. Straddling her each leg around his torso letting her melt onto him.

"S' warm." He mumbles against her throat pecking where the paths of her veins leads him to. Grabs her chin and nuzzles his nose to the underbelly of her jaw saturating her closer to his chest. She hiccups a breath when his swelling bulge nudges her already sensitive pussy making her wet again; she blames her hormones.

"Can you fuck me, please?" She gives him pleading eyes swiveling her hips back and forth against his thick length, "Don't 've to ask pretty girl." He kisses her mouth. It's not like their first kiss. Their first held innocence and sccachirness. This one's rather filthy, full of sucking, bites and spit. He splits his thumb in her hair cupping her cheeks kissing her passionately and winding his arm around her waist to caress her belly.

When she throws her shirt away he puffs out unbelievably taking in her to memorize each velvteen of her skin, "Fuck you're so beautiful moppet." It splashes blush at her features and his eyes litreally twinkles at the sight of her being like this. When his eyes halt at the swell of her titts he exhales through his nostrils a grin worming up at the little rainbow patterned bra she's wearing.

"Cutie." He kisses her again. It's like he can never stop kissing her ever. Her plump candy lips make it impossible. She skids his trousers down wrapping her hand around his girth squeezing him to quench out a throaty grunt from him. Stroking his cock with his pre-come and arches her back when his weepy head brushes against her cunt.

He helps her to take his cock being ever so carefull with her since she's pregnant but Y/N wants otherwise. She's insatiable. Could bite him whole at the time.

"Use me baby ---- make yourself cum with my cock. Wanted it yeah? C'mon now fuck me pretty girl. Take it all in. Yeah . . . Jus' like that." He grits stretching her to max and brings her neck to snuggle in to his chest when she was about to fall back because of her limbs giving out due to the ecastasy. She spurts out a giggle putting her hands between them to recoup herself and moves with his assistance on her ass.

"It's hard." She whines walls fluttering around his dick making him moan, "what me prick?" He smirks batting his eyelashes to get through the haze.

"Such a rotten joke." She rolls her eyes riding him with faster pace now and it's turning them all sweaty and hot, "mhmp. good girl takin' me cock s' well." His hands wanders above her tummy fondling with her nipples and takes it in his mouth while giving the same attention to other one with his thumb pulling it and tweaking it gently not to harm her, "don't like my jokes but you love my prick --- want to make ye' feel amazin' with it."

His balls thwacking against her bum and she leverages herself with his shoulders crying out in his ear when he hit a spot inside her she could never with her own fingers — she narrows her knees for more closeness and he tucks loose errands of her hair away kissing her temple with closed eyes.

"Tired?" His wet lips teases her earlobe and when she nods he gropes her ass thrusting up inside her, "It feels more good when daddy does it . . doesn't it?" He pounds roughly with a sharp angle of his pelvis and keeps on fucking her till she's crying his name.

She's a puddling. His words only made her float into her own head space where it's golden streaks in the amidst of violet clouds.

His own groans getting hoarse when she pulses around his cock milking and pushing his head fat out it makes him choke onto his spit, "cum for me --- inside me want it s' bad." She whispers woving fingers with his's and pressing it into sofa still grinding down at him whole body jolting from the sensitivity.

He does cum inside her. Filling her to brim with his seed it oozes out making soppy sounds when he pumps it back with lazy strokes to extinguish the last sparkle of fire that was crackling in their insides.

Remains like that. Tangled and dishelved. Listening to eachother's silence. He didn't even got a chance to pull out of her when his phone startled them beside her making her cramp hard around him and his head falls on the headboard with a grunt.

"Fuck." He squints back and pretends to eat the apple of her cheeks with roar like noises tickling her side making her stomach squeeze with laughs when his phone rings for another time and she ushers him to pick it.

His expressions remains stoic. Lips thinned into a hardline as he listens to the person on the other side. She's familiar with it. The feminine seductive voice she can never unhear --- it pangs her heart with an unbearable amount of pain and clogs her windpipes.

Dunno from where she found the need to ask this she did with a second thought from the anxiousness whirling in her mind the second he ends the call, "Are you gonna leave me now?" Tears of hurt without her knowing are already spilling down the valley of her chest.

Harry stares her. But, she could see nothing in them due to blurness from the pulversive of a single call.

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more-stuff-of-pi · 3 years

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I’ll Fight For You

a/n: lmao i swear i’m fine, just needed good ol’ kiri to assist me in a v self-indulgent fic. also, sorry for taking forever to write something yoinks

notes: did i read through this after i wrote it? nope. we’re fucking rolling with the audacity of not even a single ounce of beta-ing. requests are open :) find my masterlist here

pairing: kirishima eijirou x fem!reader | genre: angst (w/happy ending) / hurt/comfort | warnings: abusive mother (mental/verbal), a father who doesn’t intervene | word count: 2,018

Your boyfriend was practically vibrating with nerves as he adjusted his hair in the mirror. It was artfully piled on top of his head, his dark roots making a sharp contrast against the vibrant red.

“Ei,” you smiled, “you’re gonna be fine.”

He worried his sharp teeth against his bottom lip, frowning all the while. “But what if they--?”

“They’re going to love you, Ei. Probably even more than they love me,” you joke, coming up behind Eijirou’s monstrously large form. Hero work had been both kind and harsh on him but he made it look effortlessly good. You gently slid your arms around his waist as you angled yourself so that you could still eye his reflection.

“I’m just… worried, is all.”

You cock your eyebrow. “About what, Ei?”

He incredulously meets your gaze through the mirror. “What do you mean, about what?!”

It dawns on you a little bit. “Oh, well, she’s not going to be mean to you, Ei. She knows how to play nice when it counts. And you, good sir, count.”

“That’s not as reassuring as it is worrying, you know.”

“My mother is just a little intense, babe, it’s nothing I’m not used to. Like I said, she knows how to tone it down in front of others. I’m sure tonight will be fine. I probably just exaggerate everytime I whine about her, so she’s probably not even half as bad as I make her sound,” you shrug, leaning more into Eijirou’s side.

“Baby,” he sighs, twisting a little to look directly at you, no mirror this time. His eyes are sad yet firm as if wishing you to understand that there’s no need to defend yourself with him.

You squeeze him tighter before letting go and walking to the door. “C’mon, we’ll be late if we don’t leave now.”

❁

You always forget that you don’t really ever exaggerate your mother’s behavior towards you until you’re around her again. Everything as far as introducing your boyfriend to your parents has been going incredibly smoothly. Your dad enthusiastically engaged Eijirou in hero stories, talking about Red Riot’s most recent media appearance where he was dressed in pajamas and carrying tubs of various ice creams you both had wanted to try when he dropped everything to prevent a construction beam from falling on clueless bystanders. Only one tub of ice cream had survived and luck had it that it was your least favorite flavor combination. Your mother praised Eijirou for his success and his coupling good looks at which she winked, making your boyfriend flush both at the phrase and the uncomfortable comments your mother directed at him. You winced at that, having forgotten to prepare him for the habitual talent your mother had of sexualizing anything, especially if it would ‘embarrass’ her child.

Your mother had made off handed comments throughout the whole night that you seemed to be the only one to pick up on. Your dad might have noticed a few but, as usual, he only looked at you apologetically, never interrupting his wife to stand up for you.

As much as you loved both of your parents and as much as they had their good moments, this fucking sucked.

“--not that she’s any good with that quirk of hers, of course,” your mother snickered as she brought the glass to her lips. You had become a good actor over the years in order to avoid your mother’s bullying over your ‘sensitiveness’, but something about her dismissing your hard work always immediately dismantled whatever mask you had thrown on. To cover what you know must be a crestfallen look, you give a laugh, something that could be called half-hearted at best. Your eyes remained trained on your food. “Oh come on, Y/n, that was funny.”

You chuckled again, hoping to force some genuineness into it. “Yeah--”

“No, it wasn’t,” Eijirou immediately cuts you off, voice straining with anger. You felt your face drain of blood as you noticed how tightly he was gripping his chopsticks. He was fuming. You don’t think you’d ever seen him angry before. The thought scared you. “That was just mean.”

Your mother quirked an unimpressed, subtly pissed brow at your boyfriend. “Don’t be sensitive, Eijirou. House rules: if it’s mean but funny, it’s okay.”

“As long as you get a laugh from it, it’s okay to abuse your child?” He spits at her like venom.

Your mother sets her glass down, eyes narrowing. “Excuse me?”

“You heard--”

You slap a hand over Eijirou’s bicep, squeezing so hard you wouldn’t be surprised if he ended up bruising. “It’s fine! Nothing I’m used to! I grew up on the ‘if it’s mean but funny’ rule, so it’s fine.”

The look he gave you was of incredulous anger. “No, it is not--!”

“Please, Ei. Please, just--,” you averted your eyes, ashamed of your own familiar defeat. “Just sit.”

Shamefully, you slide back into your seat, nervously smoothing out a napkin back onto your lap. Eijirou still stood beside you, staring daggers at your mother who effortlessly returned it. His fists were balled, the veins in his hands flexing with the effort of restraining himself. His jaw snapped shut with an audible clamp as he resolved himself to sitting back down.

Your dad clears his throat, more so than necessary as if the harder he did it, the better he could dissipate the tension. “Done, everyone?” No one answers him. He takes that as the go ahead to begin clearing dishes, desperately jumping at the opportunity to escape your mother’s impending tantrum. You loved your dad very much but, god, he was nothing if not a coward, always leaving you to fight your own battles. You don’t think you’ve ever won.

Your mother returns her cold attention to you, the ice starting to thicken and your mother’s hollow kindness starting to retreat along with her patience. “What are you even doing to help train your quirk, sweetie?”

Taken aback, you met her gaze. “W-what do you mean?”

“I mean, I don’t ever see you doing anything at all to help. You do realize that training takes work, right? What does it take? It takes--,” your mother trailed off, flourishing both hands to motion for you to finish the sentence.

“Effort--”

“Effort!” She clapped with your word. “It takes effort! And I only want the best for you, sweetheart, which is why I’m just asking what you’re doing. From where I stand, it doesn’t look like you’re doing anything at all to help improve yourself! As your mother, your concerned mother, I’m just looking out for you, sweetheart.”

Your mind is reeling at her words. You so badly want to defend yourself, assert all of the effort that you have painstakingly put in-- but you are reminded of the precise way your mother is able to leech any ounce of power or confidence from you. You would think that was her quirk if you didn’t know any better. “Mom, I am putting effort in, I train almost everyday--”

“Do you really?” Her voice drips with venomous shock. “It certainly doesn’t look like you do,” she gestures vaguely at you, eyeing your body with a vulture’s gaze. “Maybe you should consider morning and night. Oh! And a diet change, too. You know, since the popular heroes have a specific look to them and I just want to make sure that you can fit that. Since it’s your dream to be a popular hero. Like I said, you have to be willing to put in the effort. Oh, sweetie, don’t look at me like that. You know the difficult position I’m in! Trying to encourage you and help you achieve your dreams while not seeming too enthusiastic. You’re putting that stress on me, sweetie, I’m only trying to help.”

It really was incredible how quickly your mother could erase any confidence you had. Normally, you would stand beaming, more than happy to assert yourself and stand up for yourself and others. All it took was a couple words from your mother, and you turned into a dog with its head down and its tail between its legs, fearful of its master.

Your gut sank and hatred swirled throughout your body for both yourself and her as you once again let her have power over you. “You’re right. Sorry, Mom--”

“Do you know where your daughter ranks as a hero?”

Stunned, you both glanced at Eijirou, having almost completely forgotten that he was there. Throughout her tirade, you had felt a tragically familiar loneliness, used to having to defend yourself when no one, not even your other family members, would. Used to always submitting and used to the shame that always accompanied your forced silence.

“What?” She spat.

“I asked if you knew your daughter’s ranking. I just was wondering, is all. It would make sense if you weren’t aware that she ranks in the top 30 since you were asking about the effort she puts in. I would think that that accomplishment -- at such a young age, too, might I add -- was evidence enough of the countless hours, blood, sweat, and tears that she has poured into this. The effort she’s painstakingly put in. You’re right that being a hero is her dream, and she’s a damn good one, too. Saved my life more than once with ‘that quirk of hers’,” he sneered bitterly. “And, on top of that, she’s so beautiful through and through that sometimes it’s all I can do to stare at her in awe. Your thinly veiled shaming of her appearance is never the result of a mother’s so-called difficult situation, only the result of your own insecurities.”

Eijirou suddenly stands, having finally had more than enough for one night. “The only gratitude I will ever have towards you is for bringing this wonderful woman into this world. I hope one day you’ll actually realize how amazing your daughter is and how proud of her you ought to be. Because I am. I am so incredibly proud of her and her accomplishments and the results of her efforts.”

“And who’s to say that I’m not proud of her, Eijirou?”

He scoffs. Eijirou, the kindest, most patient man you know, scoffs in your mother’s face. “Haven’t you ever heard that actions speak louder than words?”

Your mother gapes up at him, opening and closing her mouth like a fish. In that moment, she resembles a fish and you couldn’t be more pleased with that comparison.

“He’s right, mom.” You rise to join him. “I know you love me. I have no choice but to believe it because I think it would destroy me if I didn’t. But maybe someday I won’t constantly have to defend myself to you and you’ll accept the things I say without dismissing them. You always say you admire me most for my assertiveness but you shut me down anytime I use it to stand up for myself against you. And that makes you nothing but a hypocrite.” You stare her down, reveling in the confidence Eijirou gives you in this thing against your mother. For the first time, you are not alone as you fight this battle. For the first time, you have help. And for the first time, you feel like you’ve won. “Now if you’ll excuse us.”

You take Eijirou’s hand and lead him out of the house, leaving your parents to stare after you in shock. As soon as you make it out, cold air hits you like a slap in the face that harshly wakes you from a daze.

“Holy shit, Ei, did I just stand up to my mom?”

He laughs and squeezes your hand. “It was pretty manly, too.” You laugh breathlessly, still in disbelief as you push your other fist against his arm. “And you know,” he continues, “that I’m the best judge of that.”

“That must mean a lot,” you grin, swinging your linked hands between you as you walk further from your parents’ home, feeling the fullness of a good meal and a battle won.

taglist: @samwrights, @mayaoliviee, @luluwiie, @gigglyparker (i thought i would tag you since you commented on the draft that i posted of this, hope you don’t mind <3)

#i'll fight for you #kirishima eijirou x reader #kirishima x reader #bnha x reader #hurt/comfort #abusive mother tw #tw abusive mother #mha x reader #bro this fic lowkey fvcking sucks lmao so sorry that this is the first thing you see from me in a while #like it just feels really rushed which it probably is but it's incredibly self-indulgent and it fulfills my purposes so it's good enough #for me that is

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tender-rosiey · 3 years

Note

Can I request for Chuuya (and Dazai and Akutugawa if you are feeling up to it) with a sweet fem!s/o who notices they have been really stressed out lately so she takes them to spend the day at the amusement park or the zoo to get them to have fun and try to relax a bit? If not, that is okay but thank you for reading this anyways!

❥ BSD characters with a sweet s/o who takes them to the zoo

❥— Includes Dazai, Chuuya and Akutagawa

ᴀ/ɴ: I hope you like this dear and have a wonderful day! 🥺💘

Dazai Osamu:

It’s really rare that Dazai gets stressed

Which is exactly why it got you concerned :(

He was one to put in consideration every step he took and knew what it will bring upon him

So knowing that

What made him stressed must’ve been bad

So you took the liberty to try and make his day better

Made him his favorite snacks and packed them in a bag in case he gets hungry there

Why not just eat from there?

After tasting your cooking, the great Dazai swore to never eat anything that you didn’t cook while you are with him and still able to cook him something

Now back to comforting the brunette

When he came back home, he looked really bothered

my baby 🥺

“OSAMU!”

You called sweetly and he couldn’t help but smile softly

It always made his day coming back to you

He gave you the usual after work hug but then noticed you are dressed up

“What for, belladonna?”

When you beam at him and told him you both were going to the zoo, he got confused

So as you guys were walking there hand in hand, he asked you about it

Imagine how he felt when you told him that you noticed he looked stressed so you thought cute animals might brighten up his mood

Despite having a cute tiger in work already but ok

Man felt cared for and just wanted hug you right on the spot

But of course pride is a thing and he didn’t want you to know just how much of an effect you have on him so he just laughed it off and ruffled your hair 🙄

You guys are like babies in the zoo

Dazai tried freeing the birds

And the tigers

“THEY DESERVE THEIR FREEDOM!”

“STOP KIDNAPPING ATSUSHI’S SIBLINGS AND LOCKING THEM UP!”

Whenever you are awestruck by a cute animal, he would just stare at you lovingly

He is so whipped for you

And when you guys settle to eat some food, he just melts from happiness as he eats what you made him

Brightens up a lot when he sees it’s his favorites 🥺

“Ranpo would be jealous of this delicacy-“

“DID SOMEONE SAY FOOD?!”

*insert you screeching while dazai is flexing the food he is eating*

On the way home he kissed your hand and thanked you

“Honestly, I appreciate it a lot that you thought of making me feel better; thank you.”

Chuuya Nakahara:

Another king that was stressed

The mafia is hard work how can you blame him?

You being the wonderful and amazing s/o you are

Decided that you will help him by making him go out with you somewhere

Now Chuuya adores your baking even more than Dazai adores your cooking

Literally is a sucker for it

MELTS I TELL WHEN YOU BAKE FOR HIM

So like so, you baked him his favorites

Yes I believe Chuuya loves pastries 🥮

Maybe specifically cupcake :0

I CAN JUST SEE IT STOP

Anyways you packed them and got them ready for the zoo trip

It’s second nature to Chuuya to come cuddle you whenever he feels particularly bothered or disturbed

So when he came home he did not expect his dove to be all dolled up with a bright smile waiting for him

His first thought was “did I forget an event?”

He was worried he didn’t remember something important that got you to dress up or him like this :(

But you reassured him that there isn’t anything and that you just wanted to lighten up his mood by going on a date to the zoo

He just hugged you and muttered about how cruel you are and how much he loves you

He tries to hide his blush by that tho

Dont get fooled Σ(-᷅_-᷄๑)

So you guys go there and it’s all cool, right?

Absolutely not

A pigeon had to pee on him

Which led to a tantrum by said human

“HOW DARE IT DO THAT TO ME?!”

So there goes his jacket

Thankfully it alone

You continued the date normally afterwards <3

He was just totally in love with what you baked him

“Aw Y/N this is so good oml-“

“This is heaven-“

“Please never stop baking them-“

I am starting to think the date is between him and the pastries now

You can go home now bby

JK JK

When you guys got home y’all cuddled and he kept thanking you for caring for him and peppering your face with kisses

I am so soft for Chuuya 🥺

Akutagawa Ryuunosuke:

*flashbacks to the first date scenario*

Hehe

So aku is grumpy

Very grumpy

What do we do with a grumpy aku?

We hug it and take it somewhere it will release the grumpiness in

Specifically the zoo

Why?

I will elaborate on that later on ;)

He comes home mad cause work has been shit and Atsushi is getting in his nerves like he always does

(ง'̀-'́)ง

Gets so confused when he sees you dressed up but blushes lightly and hides face

“What are you dressed up for, dummy?”

Freaking tsundere

You tell him because you noticed he is stressed and he is touched

The akutagawa type of touched

His heart swelling for you

Shaddup gin said in wan that aku is sensitive

But what he appears to be is unbothered and just ruffled your hair with a very small “...thank you.”

YAY SO YOU GO THERE

what’s the first thing out previously grumpy baby does?

Flip off the tigers and cuss them out

Especially the white one

“HOW DO YOU LIKE THAT JINKO?! MY LOVER IS TRYING TO MAKE ME FEEL BETTER WHILE YOUR ASS IS SINGLE!”

Insert Atsushi sneezing 🤧

Other than that he respects the animals

He waved at the ducks 🦆

When you guys get food he eats like a baby and rests his head on your shoulder

The walk back home is full of comfortable silence

Aside from him glaring at those who look at you funny

Back home he kisses the top of your head and mutters another thanks

before you are dragged to your shared bedroom for hugs

do not copy or plagiarize or you will be reported

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universallywriting · 4 years

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Angry Steven Essay 1 - Ignoring Your Kids and the Consequences

A lot of people have been wondering why Steven is so angry, and where their sweet baby boy has gone, and I think people are struggling because they don’t understand how little they respected Steven before.

Because I don’t think that Steven has undergone a huge character shift. Admittedly, he’s angry more frequently now, but I don’t think his anger is bigger or more intense or any worse than it’s been at other points in the series. Steven’s feelings haven’t gotten bigger…

But Steven has.

I counted up all the times Steven gets angry in the series, being fairly charitable and not counting more minor moments of annoyance of frustration. I’ve got about 21 moments out of 160 episodes for the original series. Granted, that’s only once every seven episodes, but it’s not insignificant. The idea that Steven never gets angry is factually wrong.

We see his temper the first time in Steven the Swordfighter, and it’s not a very wholesome look at the boy. He’s frustrated because Pearl is gone and Holo-Pearl isn’t a good replacement. And, already, I bet you’re starting to tune out a little. Because Steven’s being a stupid little kid, isn’t he? Pearl’s coming back. He’s just throwing a tantrum.

Tantrum is the word we give to anger and sadness we don’t respect. It’s a word we use to belittle and ignore children, even when their feelings are justified.

We see something similar in Rose’s Room. He screams at the gems because they ruin the ending of his video game. And, sure that’s a bummer Steven, but it’s just a game. There’s a big space opera out there, so why are you so worried about this? And yeah, you got mad that Greg lied to you in House Guest, but he just wanted to spend time with you. It’s a cute father/son moment, really. Steven is angry, sure, but it’s just kind of pitiful, isn’t it? Poor silly kid. He’s wrapped up in his little concerns when the world is so big and scary.

But you were on his side in Warp Tour. Because he’s right this time, so it’s not a tantrum. And you’re mad at the gems because they’re treating it as a tantrum. But here’s the thing - the gems should never treat him this way. Because so far? Every single one of Steven’s fears and struggles are valid and worthy of respect. Steven isn’t pitching a fit because they brought him a scarlet firetruck and he wanted a cherry firetruck. He’s hurt. That deserves respect and attention and apologies.

In Steven the Swordfighter, he’s struggling because one of his guardians is really hurt. Not only that, but she’s hurt in a way that she can’t talk to him, can’t let him know it’s going to be okay, and in her place is the thing that hurt her. You’ll also note that Amethyst and Garnet are conspicuously absent during all of this, because apparently the boy doesn’t need comfort and care after watching Bird Mom get wasted and spending days hovering over her unhatched egg. Steven is going through all this grief and fear alone.

In Rose’s Room, Steven is denied his chance to spend time with the gems after they promised. They don’t respect or value Steven’s time. Why would they? He’s a child. And clearly he proves his time is worthless by putting so much value in his silly video game he interrupted. What’s the ending of your stupid golf game matter when the plot it rolling along, Steven? Big, important adult things are here. Drop what you’re doing. Ignore your interests. What the gems are doing is more valuable than what you’re doing every single time.

This is a general trend. Warp Tour is the perfect encapsulation of the problem, because it’s finally important enough that Steven fights to be heard. The first thing to remember about this episode is that we, the audience, are placed on Steven’s side because we’ve seen what Steven has seen. We know he’s right. The gems, however, believe what Steven is saying to be impossible. From their perspective, Steven is saying that a masked man broke down their door last night. Be honest - if you knew a kid making that claim and the door was fine, are you going to take it seriously?

The problem in Warp Tour is not that the gems don’t believe him. It’s reasonable not to. The problem is the way they react to it. Amethyst groans and complains about how long it’s taking to make Steven feel better, making him feel like a burden. Pearl aggressively confronts him with evidence, treating him like they’re in a debate and he needs to be proven wrong. That makes him feel stupid, belittled and ignored. Garnet says that it’s important to make Steven feel secure, but even that is condescending and quietly insists that Steven is being irrational.

Even at the end, Garnet is the only one who even slightly makes amends, saying she should have listened to him while also not apologizing. Pearl and Amethyst don’t make amends at all. But do you know who does say sorry four times? Steven. Steven has been taught and continues to be taught that his feelings are secondary. The things in his life that are important aren’t really important compared to the serious grown up issues.

The lack of apologies are consistent. In Keystone Motel, Ruby and Sapphire realize Steven is upset and make up with each other, but don’t make up with Steven. Don’t apologize to Steven. In Maximum Capacity, Amethyst never apologizes to Steven for shapeshifting into his dead mom. (Which, always and forever - What the hell, Ame?)

The gems brushed off these feelings and due to that, I think a lot of the audience did too. But the gems do occasionally ask Steven what’s wrong, and he shuts them down.

So why does he do that? Why doesn’t he work it out? Because they spent his entire life ignoring his problems, disregarding his fears, not knowing what’s important to him. I’ve seen a lot of talk about Gemcation and how the stuff with Connie was Steven repressing his trauma over space and… no. It’s not. It’s really, really not. It’s yet another example of how the gems (and the fandom) ignore the things that matter to Steven in favor of what they think he should care about, and it comes down to this one extremely painful moment.

Garnet: Steven, I know what’s troubling you.

Steven: You do? (huge relieved smile) Gosh. I really messed up, didn’t I?

He’s so, so excited for someone to understand him. He’s so thrilled for someone to understand what’s wrong, and value his problems and his life. And what happens? Garnet talks about Pink Diamond. He’s crushed again.The most important thing to Steven is his relationships with other people, his friends. Literally his entire problem solving method is to go make more friends. He’s not worried about getting hurt or how scary Homeworld is, he’s scared that his family is going to stop loving him because of the mistakes he made.

But the gems don’t take the time to understand what Steven truly values. They don’t take the time to respect his interests. They don’t take the time to know him. And we’re still seeing that. They don’t understand what movies he likes. They don’t understand how his taste in food has changed. They don’t realize he’s been a vegetarian for a month. That’s not a little change. And, what’s more, that’s a value. That’s something extremely important, a sacrifice you decide to make because you think it’s a big deal.

And the gems don’t know.

So why would he talk to them? If someone was so uninterested in my life they couldn’t figure out I’d been a vegetarian for a month, I wouldn’t be opening up about my deepest problems. And when have they ever guessed a problem right? When have they ever taken an interest in things that matter to him? When have they ever told him that his human half is just as valuable, that he deserves to do whatever he wants, that he doesn’t have to be the son of Pink Diamond and can actually just be Steven?

But why bother when you can just cheer him up with s’mores and camping and Dogcopter, right? Steven doesn’t get angry! Our precious baby boy pouts. He throws some tantrums. The only time his anger matters is in Warp Tour, because he’s right about these big adult things. Steven is a child and he is small and cute and funny and his voice cracks when he shouts. It’s funny, isn’t it? He’s just a little kid. Little boys get angry and they scream and they holler about stupid things, and who cares, right?

Until one day they’re not so little anymore.

And now it doesn’t seem so funny, does it? Now it’s kind of scary. Now, the little kid that you rolled your eyes at and ignored the emotions of is big. He’s got a deep voice. He’s got broad shoulders. When he screams at you, it’s not something to roll your eyes over. It’s kind of terrifying now, isn’t it? Because there’s real power in that bigger body, and even the lizard part of your brain at the base of your spinal chord knows that. There’s a real, destructive power when he screams, and you have to listen.

The gems still think he’s a kid, and the audience is starting to realize he’s not. And the audience is already scared of what a kid as angry as Steven, with no coping mechanisms, is going to look like as a grown man.

It’s really easy to ignore a little boy with a weak grasp of his strength. It’s a lot harder to ignore a man whose screams shake your house down.

Value your kid’s feelings. They’re going to be grown some day. And what’s more? They’re people. Their feelings mattered all along. Steven’s feelings mattered all along.

The only thing that’s changed is that you can’t call it cute anymore.

#steven universe #steven universe future #su #suf #su steven #steven su #angry steven essay #meta #essay

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creoterative · 3 years

Text

Pokemon Headcanons

Headcanons about Reggie dealing with Paul’s Shit when he is at home and his puberty starts to kick in

warnings: Cursewords

First, only to be clear about this, Reggie is the sweetest big brother anyone can imagine. But he doesn’t hesitate to scold his brother when he crosses the line too often.

When Paul comes back from his second battle with Brandon, which he finally won, he is happy, but also so exhausted, that he sleeps through a whole day.

Reggie was so excited, that he had Maylene make a cake (she didn’t know who it was for), but Paul only ate one piece to please his brother, then he just went to bed.

Reggie gives his little brother plenty of time to calm down and relax. So in the meantime, he takes care of Paul’s Pokemon, gives them some space and a place to just enjoy themselves.

When Paul finally wakes up, he is super pissed. At everything. Funny thing is, he can’t even explain why. So he just walks downstairs, grabs some of the leftovers from yesterdays cake and eats them while sitting on the couch.

Reggie doesn’t even whitness this, but when he comes back in and sees the plate on the table, he gets a little frustrated, that Paul didn’t even put it in the dishwasher.

To be honest, these things happen a lot now. Paul never let his brother do all the work in the house, he always wanted to help out, since they had to live alone and he didn’t want Reggie to carry the burden all by himself. But when he hit puberty... well, things changed a bit.

And puberty actually hit him like a fucking truck. The moodswings of this guy, geez. One day he gets out of bed at six in the morning, starts cleaning his room and wakes Reggie by using the vacuum cleaner. The next day he insists that he has to sleep longer because he had such a terrible night and he has to make up for his lost sleep. He... really just wants to sleep longer and not do anything.

Reggie isn’t concerned in the slightest, only when his brother starts to act like an actual sibling. THAT’S when Reggie gets scared. But the rest? Well, puberty.

There are a few phases where Paul really starts to go back to his old self, which calms Reggie a bit. In these phases Paul does, what he usually did at home as well. Cleaning, some work in the backyard, the usual chores one has to do at home. And his brother is really glad for those phases. Because the rest of the time... Paul doesn’t even seem to know what he wants.

They don’t get into fights that much because both of them aren’t the type to argue a lot with the other, Reggie just tries to roll with his brothers mood swings. But when they fight, and yes, they do, the house is burning and they don’t talk to eachother for a few hours, even days.

Most of the time, it is Paul who’s bubble bursts first, so he will start the fight over such simple things. There are days, where a leaf, literally, a leaf on his shoulder, could trigger him. And Reggie is used to his coldhearted, collected little brother, so he often doesn’t know how to deal with it.

But surprisingly, Paul is also the one who apologizes first. When he has had the time to think about the fight, he’ll eventually see how small the thing was, he just threw a tantrum about. So when Reggie sits in front of the TV after work, usually in the evening, Paul will sit down next to him and apologize in his rough, serious way. Reggie can’t resist the urge to tease his little brother a bit with stuff like “Oh here he comes.” “About time” or “Well, someone has used his braincells for once.”

In the end, Paul is grumpy, but leans his head against his brothers shoulder and Reggie just sits there smiling, knowing that he has won again.

One time, Reggie had this talk with Paul about... girls. He had Paul sitting at the table right in front of him and started to tell him about the possible dangers and how he should protect himself from them. And his little brother was staring at him the whole time. As if he was a maniac, ready to slit Reggie’s throat.

Paul doesn’t get along with Maylene, I think that is clear. But now, with his puberty kicking in, it’s even worse. Paul will insult her whenever he sees her, even if he just looks at her with these judging, pitch black eyes.

Puberty caused Paul to grow waayyyy faster than he should and now he is almost as tall as his brother, mere millimeters still seperate them.

It’s a rare occasion, but there have been times, where Paul felt really down and needed some comfort, so he came up to his brother and asked for a cuddle session. Not that he stood there and asked ‘Hey Reggie, can you hold me for a second?’, no, he slowly approached his brother, leaned his head against his back and just asked Reggie if he got time. And Reggie immediately knew. These cuddle sessions didn’t last too long, but they were very important for their relationship.

#pokemon #pokemon headcanons #pokemon anime #pokemon paul #pokemon reggie #brothers #anime

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floatinginwords · 3 years

Text

Saved by the Devil (17/?) - Thomas Shelby

Summary: Father and reader are reunited, Reader faces her past and future at once. (Im getting better kind of?)

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Fem!Reader (Romantic)

Warning: Unhealthy father and daughter relationship.

A/N: This chapter took oh so long but I’m glad that we get to see this relationship between Father and Daughter in this one. Also i named the father George so sorry if you know someone named George. Comments and feedback is always appreciated and as always have a good night and take care of yourselves.

Italics = flashback

George (L/N), your father was a man that everyone feared. You knew this ever since you were a little girl. You saw the air he prided himself with, the way people parted like the red sea whenever he walked, the way no one would look him in his eye. You used to worship the ground he walked on. You would cry on to your mother why you couldn’t spend more time with the man, she would give you a look that you didn’t understand then. She was horrified when George did decide to take you for a tour of his ‘office.’ She could do nothing but watch you bounce happily away on your father hand. You still remember the day.

“You can’t take her, not there.” Your mother cried to him

“Shes gonna need to learn sooner or later.”

“Then later!” She yelled.

He ignores her cries as he drags you along. You had a big smile at finally getting time with your father. You didn’t understand why she was against this.

The walk was brisk, you even stopped for a treat. You ended up jumping from one place to another. Your father talking to people, shaking their hands. You noticed how they looked to him like a leader. So you asked.

“Im a boss honey,” He answered, “You will be too one day. You’ll help me run all this.”

“Really?” you said

“You just gotta be tough. Can you do that?”

You nodded pulling off your toughest face. The next place he leads you is some old train tracks that aren’t used anymore. A group of men stand around in a circle. All of them waiting for him.

“You brought a kid to this?” One of them says.

“You got a problem with that?” George says cocking his gun you didn’t realize he had.

The man shakes his head no and pints where the rest of them gather, “They got him over there.”

Your father no longer holds your hand as he walks ahead of you. You follow slowly. You can see the man in the middle of the circle. Looking worn down and beaten. Your father stands ahead of him, he plays with gun in the air. He talks words you block out. You just watch the man as is eyes loosely follow your father. He cries uncontrollable begging for his life. You see his body fall before you hear the gun. You don’t cry, you don’t say a word. Your father pats you on the head and says you did good.

Soon he took you everywhere and anywhere, spending more time with him less with your mother. You became a different person as you became used to the violence. You saw different side of your father more than once but he still treated you like a good. He wanted you prepared for anything and you just wanted to prove that you could be. So learning wasn’t an issue and neither was the perfection you set yourself up for. You became a mini version of him, you didn’t mind unlike your mother who was just horrified. She fought for you to stay in school when he would convince you to leave. She wanted to to date, have a normal job. But you wouldn’t listen to her. You father was your hero at the time you saw nothing wrong with anything that was happening.

“Your tainting her. Its not good for her to be around this stuff.”

You listen from atop of the stairs, now only seventeen.

“Son or daughter, my child is gonna learn the business and learn it right!” He yelled

“Then ill tell the police, everything I know. Ill take her away or- or”

“Are you threatening me?”

“I want my daughter back! You’re running her.”

“She’s growing up, deal with it.” He turns away from her, gives her the side eye before walking out. You go to sleep, hoping for them to forgive and forget.

You wake in the middle of night for a glass of water when you found your mother dead. You cry for the first time over a dead body. Holding your mothers hand close to her face, hoping for a reaction. Your father walks in and pauses. You can see through your lashes that his hands were stained red. You don’t say anything. He brings out two shovels and hands one to you. George tells you nothing more but to dig in the backyard.

You don’t. He scolds you for not listening, for not working faster. He digs it himself. He doesn’t look you in the eye as you watch his bury dirt on top of your mother. You share a tea later in the night. You just watch the inside of your cup, the steam rising up. He drinks his greedily, eating cookies as if it’s a regular Sunday morning.

That’s when your relationship changed. You begun to bicker and challenge everything he said or did. You couldn’t understand why he would do that. Or how he even could. You didn’t know what you could do, so you held the emotions in for a long time. Growing distant with your father. He confronts you on your behavior and you no longer hokd your tounge with him.

“You killed her. Why?”

“You wouldn’t understand.”

“I had to bury her, do you know what that was like?”

“In this business you’ll have to bury a lot more like her.”

“she had nothing to do with it.” You state.

He looks at your small figure, your eyes welling up with tears. “Don’t cry.”

“Why did you do it? Why did you kill my mother?” You press the issue your voice growing louder wanting , needingthe answer. Wanting all this to make sense.

“Why does it matter? So you can tell the whole city?” He turns on you quick.

“What if I did, does that scare you?”

“Watch your mouth girl.”

“Is that why you killed my mother? Cause she didn’t watch her mouth.” He gets up quickly punching a hole in the wall near your face. You stay still as tears fall from you eyes slowly.

No longer were the two of you a pair. The father daughter duo was dead. He iced you of the business. Meeting happening without you, transactions with your knowledge. He treated you like a stranger he shared a house with. But every chance you got when you would see him. You questioned him, wanted him to feel bad. No answer at this point would satisfy you, you know that. But you hoped the guilt would eat at his soul for the rest of time. You were there to remind him. And he didn’t like that.

It was the day before you turned eighteen, when you were surprised with a knock on the door. The men claimed to be doctors as they grabbed you by the wrist, throwing you in their car, declaring you insane. You didn’t understand what was happening and that only made them laugh sealing their opinion on what state your mind was as you panicked. The doctors told you nothing but that your father had expressed concerns over your health. And that he was doing this for your own good. Being there made you feel insane but you tried your best to repeal the order to get out. But the doctors were well played off, some of the nurses being Georges goons, no one would let you out unless he said so. Until Tommy Shelby came in, of course you were finally free from that cage.

So now you stand in front of this man, you had idolized and called father. A man who now is only a murderer, a thief, a low life, your enemy. You clench your jaw as he opens his arms to you. The wrinkles on Georges face crease as he smiles. He’s older in the face and hold a cane in his hand.

“What? No hug?”

“Fuck off.”

“What a lovely choice of words. Im glad to see your okay. I meant to visit…” You glare at him, “but I’ve been busy. Its good to finally find you.”

“You don’t have to play dumb. How long have you been following me. Ive noticed since a month ago.”

“Hmm you’re slacking. Its been longer than that. You really think I would let my daughter be out and about, not knowing shes safe.”

“I had hoped the rumors of your death were true. Guess I hoped too much.”

“Ah yes your little hit on me. Didn’t go as planned did it.” He glances over at the smoke floating in the town miles from us, “Your work I assume.”

“Did you do that to Trinity?”

“It wasn’t anything personal. No need to throw a tantrum.”

You huff and hold yourself back from stabbing right where he stood. “You had no right-“

George interrupts you, “After the stunt you pulled. Asking Thomas Shelby to kill me in exchange you tell him a few locations. You know what he did when he found me. He shook my hand. The man helps me fake my death, im off to America. Can you guess where?”

“New York.”

“That’s right and its bigger and its booming, honey. And here you are sleeping with a man who lies to you, who is no different than me or the other men ive killed or hurt.”

“Im not-not” You blush at the accusation your father throws to you. You had forgotten for a second how Tommy Shelby was involved in this. You remember asking him and never getting a clear answer. Especially when you were so unsure with what was going on, you should have pressed more. Not been so easy to trust him. You could have been more prepared for this, left the country sooner.

“Listen, I’m just here to help you-“

“By locking me up calling me crazy, or was it when you killed my mother, or had me followed or when you killed my friend.”

“I understand your mad. But honey we are better as a team than not. Remember me and you fighting the world together.” He uses a funny light hearted voice. One that he would use only to manipulate you when you were younger.

“What do you want from me?”

He sighs, “I need a peace treaty. And the family’s got this son.-“

You scoff, “Are you kidding me?”

“its what best for our family. And honestly you have no choice in the matter. Ill drag you there myself if I have to.”

“I’d like to see you try.” You pull put your knife and hold it out in attack position.

“You’re gonna kill me, your old man,” He uses a mockingly sad voice before erupting into a mad laughter, “You might as well do it now cause you wouldn’t want me as your enemy.”

“I think it might be too late for that.” You press the knife against your own throat, pressing hard against your skin. You can feel a trickle of warm blood run down. Now George finally panics.

“Hey, Hey! Don’t do that!” He yells.

“Walk out of here and don’t turn back. Now! “You command.

Your father follows your orders because you knew it as well as he that in this game you were now an important chess piece. And he wouldn’t have no use with a dead bride.

“I’ll be seeing you very soon.” He says as he walks further and further away. You watch until his figure is nothing more than a blur. That’s when you finally release the grip on your knife.

You sit down on the ground and quietly sob into your hands. You don’t know the time when you finally stop but its still night and still no train. You hear the sound of a lighter flicking on. You curse under your breath as you get up, ready to die tonight if it meant not being in your fathers plan.

“You are really testing my patience tonight.” You say turning around. Only it wasn’t your father standing there.

“Cigarette? You look like you could use one.” The deep voice says. And there you are, Face to face once again with Thomas Shelby.

#Tommy Shelby #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x you #peaky blinder fanfic #fanfic

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