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lanadelreyscokewhor3 · 1 year

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MASTERMIND- J.B BARNES

Pairing: Boyfriend! Bucky x Virgin! Fem! Reader

Word Count: 3.3k

Summary: you had never been interested in sex, or men for that matter- until you met bucky. now bucky and you had been going strong for months, and there's no one else you’d want to lose your virginity to. now the only challenge was making it seem like you were experienced...

Warnings: SMUT, reader losing her v card, dry humping, teasing, lots of pet names, PRAISE kink, slight playful choking, size kink, breeding kink if u squint real close, aftercare, reader has some anxiety, bucky being a really, really big sweetheart and a charming gentleman. seriously would die for this man.

“so i told you none of it was accidental, and the first night that you saw me, nothing was gonna stop me. i laid the groundwork and then saw a wide smirk on your face, you knew the entire time... you knew that i'm a mastermind and now you're mine.”- mastermind, taylor swift

Tonight was the night.

It was the night that would change your life, the night you would be thinking about each time your head hit the pillow, and when you’d wake up in the morning.

The clock continued to tick slowly, almost mockingly as you waited, fingers twisting themselves into a knot. It was life-changing for you, but the same for anyone else. Everyone else continued with their lives, all in their own little fantasy worlds, with their issues and desires.

It was confusing to think about, to wrap your head around. You wanted to scream at the top of your lungs, just for anyone to hear you, so they could offer their advice, or not care at all.

Hey world! I’m a virgin, but my boyfriend doesn't know that! How do I go all the way with him without making it awkward?

But you kept your mouth shut, as you always did about things that mattered most to you.

You sat and waited, like a patient in the waiting room, desperate to get seen. The door remained shut, the doctor refusing to come out. You knew Bucky wasn't supposed to come to your place until later, but the anticipation was killing you.

It fired a pit in your belly, causing you to feel almost lightheaded as you waited, re-churning old worries and anxieties around in your mind like butter.

You were in university, had been for some time now- but you were still a virgin. It made you feel stupid, even though you knew it didn’t matter. Virginity was a social concept.

It was stupid, and dumb, and anyone could do what they wanted with their body whenever they wanted. Despite this, you still felt bad. Memories of your high school friends giggling and rushing to tell you of their sex lives haunted you, and even though you knew it probably was shit sex, at least they were getting some.

You were surprised Bucky hadn't pushed the matter, regardless of the fact the two of you had been together for a few months now. They were the best few months of your life, and he had never made you feel so safe and comfortable in your own skin.

So why was this so nerve-racking?

He was obviously waiting for you to make the first move, to make sure you felt secure with his intentions. You hung your head low, hands coming up to rub your tired eyes as you sighed in the quiet.

This was stupid. You were being stupid.

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“This is stupid.” Bucky called from his spot on the couch, banging the remote with his hand as his head slouched back over the couch back.

The internet had gone out for the second time this week, your landlord refusing to call the company no matter how much his residents complained. You watched the Netflix Error screen pop up on the screen again, the loading screen making Bucky's eyes roll along with it.

“Trust me baby, I know.” you said, popping a blueberry in your mouth, its sweetness exploding in your mouth.

“I guess we won't get to see Andrew Garfield's beautiful biceps after all.” Bucy hummed, tossing the remote so it buried itself in the cushions, a chore the two of you would have to complete when he’d want to watch cartoons with you in the morning.

It sounded lame, but the amount of happiness you got from eating sugary cereal and watching old shows you both watched as kids was exhilarating.

Bucky reached his arms out, an indicator he wanted you to curl up in his lap, a silent order you happily obeyed. “I guess not.” you pouted, trotting over to your personal teddy bear, breathing in his calming cedarwood scent.

His skin was warm to the touch, fingers reaching to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear- lingering just a little longer than they needed to. You smiled as you looked up at him, your legs straddled across his lap, arms linked loosely around his neck.

It was a position you often sat in, his need for personal touch consuming every waking hour when the two of you were together. But this time, it felt almost different- in a way.

There was a secret message intertwined into your touches as you rested your head on his shoulder, nose nuzzling the side of his neck as you hummed softly. You breathed him in, utterly consumed by him as his hands found their place at your sides, repeating the same soothing strokes up and down your body.

It was delicate, but you were hungry.

You didn’t know how to approach this, this overwhelming urge you were feeling.

How was this supposed to start?

You didn’t want to outright tell Bucky, because that felt too weird. Too naked and vulnerable for your liking. You had to hint that you had done this, and that you wanted to do this- because you did.

But you were inexperienced. And you knew that Bucky had experience- which made you feel even more stupid if you messed up.

You were frozen, a realization hitting you all at once that you didn’t know how to even begin to approach this. The endless hours of planning this, planning exactly how and when, and who did not compare to the actual moment at hand.

Bucky sensed this, as he always did- picking up on your sudden small movements. A catch of a breath, a fidget of the hands, the continuous tapping of a foot never got past him. “Sweetheart?”

“Hmm?” you poked your head up, meeting his soft gaze as he studied you intensely. “What’s going on inside that pretty little mind of yours hm?” he asked, large hand coming up to cup your cheek as if the thoughts would trickle out into his palm.

You gnawed on your lip, teeth digging into the flesh as you debated.

Hold it off. You will sound like an idiot. Don’t even think about mentioning it.

“M’just thinking.” you smiled, yet it wavered.

“Just thinkin?”

“Just thinkin.” you replied, thankful he didn’t push you further. Instead, he just kissed you- lips soft and inviting against yours, tasting of peppermint. You moaned, body leaning closer to him on instinct, hips rolling against him.

“I’m gonna find out what's on your mind eventually.” he whispered, making you shake your head in response, a coy little smile plastered across your face like a mask.

“Maybe.” you teased, kissing him again to shut him up. It was a little game you liked to play with him- fighting for that sense of dominance, though deep down you knew he always possessed it.

Bucky’s hands roamed, making you shiver with excitement, his hips bucking up in sync with yours as the minutes dragged on. It was hot and heavy, gasping breaths and teeth and tongue.

But this, this was about as far as it had gotten with you two. This teasing, this edging and dry humping until someone spilled in their pants.

But not tonight.

You didn’t think you could leave it at this tonight.

You decided to take a risk, bringing your hand down to rub across the smooth planes of his stomach, brushing your fingers across the bulge in his pants, making him hiss.

“Doll if you keep doing that I dont think I’m gonna be able to control myself.” he growled gently, forcing your eyes to meet his own predatory gaze.

“I don’t want you to.” you breathed, a hint of a whisper that seemed to blend with the heavy pants, the rise and fall of his chest. An eyebrow was raised, hand sliding up to fit perfectly around your neck as if it were a choker.

“Yeah? You want me to fuck you pretty angel?” he asked, making you nod.

“Yes but- but I’ve never-”

He stopped. Instantly, his hands cupped your face, thumbs brushing your heated cheeks with such delicately it was as if you were a petal upon a blooming flower.

“Woah, woah lets step back for a second angel. You’ve never… you’ve never been intimate with anyone before?”

You shoke your head.

This was embarrassing. Holy fuck this was embarrassing.

“No I haven't. I know it's embarrassing and totally lame, I understand if you dont want to do anything anymore.” All he could do was shake his head, shushing your words.

“It's not embarrassing at all. It's kinda hot actually, that I’m the lucky one to get you like this. But angel, are you sure you want to do this… with me? You want it to be with me?”

“Yes.”

Because truth be told, you couldn't imagine doing it with anyone else. You wanted to be Bucky, more than anyone else.

“We can stop at anytime, okay? Don’t feel like we have to do this, or it’s too late to say no. You want to stop, we stop- no questions asked. And tell me if I’m doing something you don’t like, please.” he insisted, making you giggle as he kissed your lips gently.

The breath was stolen from your lungs as you were suddenly swept upwards, definitely gravity as Bucky picked you up in his arms. You wrapped your limbs around him tightly like a koala bear, curious as to where he was taking you.

“Where are we going?” you asked expectantly, watching as he made his way to your bedroom- to the layers of blankets the two of you had tangled in so many times before.

Never like this though.

“I’m not allowing your first time to be on some silly couch angel. I’m gonna take care of my girl.” he cooed, laying down upon the sheets, standing over you with a gleam in his eye.

“So now what?” you breathed, scared on how things would play out next. You weren't quite sure what exactly you truly liked yet. You knew you liked when Bucky was gentle with you, when he would whisper sweet praises in your ears and when he would coax you to an orgasm.

But during actual sex? It was a clean, blank slate.

“Can I take these off sweetheart?” he pointed to your sleep shorts, butterflies in your chest fluttering so hard you could hear them faintly in your ears. You nodded, too scared to say anything, too scared to even breathe in case you woke up and this was all a dream.

Bucky's hands were soft as they slid up your thighs, and you lifted your hips slightly to assist him as he slowly tugged them off- savoring the moment as much as you were.

“There we go.” he smiled as he tossed the shorts to the floor, watching you eagerly slide the shirt off your head to reveal yourself to him.

All that was left was a small scrap of fabric covering you, one that was getting wetter and wetter with each passing second Bucky looked at you like that.

Like you were the most beautiful thing he had ever laid eyes on. Like he was mesmerized, like he was hungry and only you could satisfy them. You couldn't help but laugh nervously as he took you in.

“S’beautiful. So, so so pretty, such a pretty girl.” he babbled, raising your leg to rest over his shoulder as he peppered kisses to your inner thigh all the way to your ankle. You couldn't help but let your hands slide up to cup your breasts, closing your eyes in pleasure as you toyed with your nipples.

“That's it baby. Do what makes you feel good.” he groaned, rutting himself against the bed frame as he watched you play with yourself in rhythm with his kisses and scrapes of his teeth against your skin.

“I want you Bucky. Please, want you so bad.” you begged, one hand reaching down to run your fingers through the silk strands, getting lost in the ink.

“Yea? You ready sweetheart?”

“Please.” was all you could whisper, watching with delight as he rose to his full height, towering over you as he undressed himself for you. His shirt was tossed with your shorts, lost to the memory as his belt unbuckled.

This was happening. This was really, truly happening.

So many emotions were rushing through you like a freight train, anxiety, excitement, passion. It was overwhelming, but Bucky understood this.

“We can stop at any time. We can stop right now if you want, baby. I know it can be nerve-racking.” he assured, wanting nothing more for you to be comfortable and happy. Your happiness was his. It was something he often told you, and it brought nothing but a warmth that spread through your body. It felt nice to be cared about, to be looked after and cherished.

“I want this.” you murmured, desire laced in your tone as he leaned over you.

“I want this too. I’ve wanted this since the moment I’ve laid on that gorgeous lil body of yours.”

“Pervert.” you teased, his laughter echoing throughout the room before he peppered kisses across your cheeks, causing your to squirm. “You’re such a minx.” he cooed, kissing you once more on the lips before he slid your panties down your thighs, over your thighs and toes before they were also, like everything else- forgotten.

Your breath seemed to get caught in your throat. The gentle pitter-patter of rain that slid down the windows echoed from the end of a tunnel, the candle you had lit a while back seeming to glow just a bit brighter to highlight the wanderlust in Bucky's eyes.

“Please.” was your only confirmation, your form of consent as he entered you slowly. You gasped, muscles tightening as you clawed his biceps. It was an unfamiliar feeling, intrusive as he moaned softly.

“Shh, just relax angel. Good girl.” he praised as you exhaled, wincing slightly at his size as he stretched you out.

He was big. You had known this, but it was different with him actually inside you.

“Do you wanna stop?” he asked, concerned. You shoke your head. “No, no I’m okay. Just feels weird is all.” you whispered, moaning slightly as he filled you even more, bulge appearing from your stomach.

“You're doing so well for me sweetheart, so so well. M’so proud of you darlin.” he cooed, making the fire in your belly flame that much higher.

Bucky stayed inside you, unwilling to move for a few minutes until he knew you were comfortable. Your nails began to declaw from his arm, little crescent moons doting his muscles as your breath filled your lungs easier.

“Can I move?” he hummed and you nodded, the feeling of pain morphing into some form of pleasure as he shifted.

“Oh fuck-” he moaned, his forehead brushing against yours as he rocked his hips, causing your back to arch, chest brushing his.

“Bucky oh god..” you drawled, finally understanding.

So this was what the hype was about. This is what people lived for, people died for, people killed for. This sense of connection, the closeness you reached, the feeling of bliss. The feelings that sparked inside your core that were new, something that made your head spiral. It was like Bucky had you under some spell, like this was some sort of daydream your body felt so tingly.

“You're so wet angel- n’ so tight-” he gasped as he filled you to the hilt again, finding a gentle, easy rhythm that sent you to the heavens. You were mindlessly babbling, no words coming out of your mouth coherent as your eyes rolled.

“I- love-you-mghm.” you moaned with each thrust, your body jolting as the bed rocked from Bucky's movements. His hand pinned yours above your head, a makeshift handcuff as his lips found yours again, silencing your whines.

“I love you so, so much darlin, so good to me. Just let go for me baby, let go.” he whispered, your body following his commands as you felt the coil break, release washing over you as you clamped down on his cock.

“O-Oh god-” you panted, hiccuping on your noises as you struggled to catch your breath. “Good girl. Good, good girl.” Bucky coaxed you, riding you through your orgasm.

You sensed his breath hitch, his noises getting louder with each shift of the bed frame- and you knew he was getting close. “Inside. I’m on the pill.”

“Oh god baby shit shit shit-” he panted, your words turning him on even more than he thought was possible. His grip tightened around your wrists as he came inside you with a growl of your name, possessiveness seeping out of him from the way he kissed and bit along your collarbone.

You felt full and warm, Bucky’s chant of “I love you, I love you oh god I love you” against your skin making you giggle.

“Thank you for taking care of me.” you smiled.

“Thank you for being the most wonderful, most beautiful girlfriend in the history of the universe.” he teased, freeing your hands from his grip so you could run your fingers through his hair once more, cupping the sides of his cheeks as he always did to you.

You winced slightly as he slowly eased out of you, feeling his cum slowly seep from your abused hole. “I know pup m’sorry, I promise you're okay.”

He kissed you not once, not twice but three times as you pried your squinted eyes open, your body slowly relaxing as he stood. You stared up at the ceiling, watching the blades of the fan spin as the cool air washed over your hot and sticky skin.

Going over so many things in your mind, relief spilling through each aching muscle. You had lost your virginity- and there was nothing to be scared about. It wasn't so much the actual sex you were worried about- more so the stigma you were worried you'd inflict on yourself. Scared you would do something wrong, or worried Bucky would look at you differently after hearing you had never done it with anyone else.

Of course the thought were irrational, you knew this now looking back on them but they were still valid nonetheless.

Bucky's footsteps snapped you out of your trace, and you now realized you were too deep in thought to even notice him leave the room. A smile was plastered on his face, baby blues seeming to glow brighter than they had all night- if that were even possible.

A damp facecloth was in his hand and you watched as he sat down beside you, bed dipping slightly as he brushed the warm cloth between your inner thighs. “So that happened.” you said, as if you were stating a fact at a business conference.

“So that happened. Are you happy that it happened?” he asked and you laughed, hiding your face behind your hands.

“So happy it happened. I wanted this to happen.” you confessed, snuggling into him as he lay down beside you, capturing you in a soft embrace. He kissed the top of your head, wrapping his arms around you tightly, as if he were scared you would let go.

“You’re a mastermind.” he chuckled, the happiness rushing through you so contagious you wondered if everyone else in New York could feel it.

You hoped they did.

You knew they had other plans, other dates and things to stress about, but you hoped just for one second- they could feel the whisper of your giddiness in the wind. It was the kind of giddiness a child got when they ran downstairs on Christmas, seeing Santa had left them one cookie, but enough crumbs so they’d know he was there.

It was the kind of giddiness you only got when you were with Bucky, in his arms.

“What’s on your mind?” he’d ask again, later that night when the moon was high, sleep threatening to tug you under its waves.

And you’d tell him.

You’d tell him every little thing, about how much you loved him, how much you cared for him- how the feelings you had for him were like no other. And he’d kiss you again, drunk off the taste of you, until your lips were swollen and any worry you had were left far behind.

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leonw4nter · 2 months

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She Likes The Way It Feels When He’s Right There

ID!Leon x F!Reader

“Mom, for the last time, I don’t want to go on a date with him!” You emphasize for what seemed like the nth time that night. Inviting Hunnigan over for dinner with your mom causes regret to pool in the depths of your belly; she doesn’t need to be around to hear you and your mom argue over your love life. Work was already stressful and your mom is piling up on that tall tower of things that plague your mind. You keep your head hung low, gaze trained on a piece of quinoa on your plate with your fork poking at it as you feel your attention slipping away, making no effort to rein it back in if it means not hearing your mom ramble on about having kids and settling down with someone.

“Y/N? Y/N.” Your mom’s voice snaps you back to reality, bringing you back down to this godforsaken dinner. “Did you hear what I just said?”

You temporarily shut your eyes, fingers stiffly curling over your fork. Deep breaths, breathe in and out, don’t flip the table over like a crazy person.

“No, I didn’t. I was busy thinking about work,” you grumbled in a low voice.

“I was just saying that he makes a good amount of money, maybe a little more than you do. It’ll be greatly beneficial for you,” she urged you. You love your mom, you really do, but there's a time where she gets a little suffocating for you and still acts as if you’re 13, not 30.

“What are you suggesting, mom? My job is just fine and I don’t need a man to rely on for money or my future or anything at all!” You snap, forgetting that your friend is in the same room as you are right now. Hunnigan comfortingly places a hand at your back, causing you to jump a little bit before relaxing down and taking a forkful of your dinner even if your appetite is almost gone.

“Ma’am,” Hunnigan begins, placing her elbows on the table and interlocking her fingers together. “I think whoever Y/N should get with is entirely up to her– that is, if she wants someone in her life. You may be her mother but you don’t have control over how she lives and besides, she’s a grown woman.”

Your mom shuts up, her lips pressed into a thin, burgundy line. For the first time in what felt like forever, silence befalls over the three of you on the dining table. “I was her age once so I know what she’s going through. I’m just giving her suggestions on how to secure a stable future because that’s what I want for her–”

“Well, mom, surprise: I’m still not going to see him. I’m doing just fine and–”

“Y/N–”

“I’m seeing someone, okay? I have someone else!"

Those words shock everyone, including you, even if you’re quite literally the one who said that. Your mouth moved faster than your mind could move, spouting nonsense in desperation to cut this draining conversation. Hunnigan reaches over for a napkin, blotting her mouth and trying to keep her coughing subtle and quiet after choking on her white wine. Even while dabbing at her mouth and still making an active effort to keep her coughing at a minimum, her eyes are wide and bore right into you with heightened interest.

“Who are you seeing then?” Your mom breaks the silence.

“Leon,” you promptly answered. All of a sudden you’re self-conscious, worried that she’ll sense your fib and call you out. You want to smash that bottle of wine against your head and knock yourself unconscious and wistfully get sent into another existence, going missing until everyone forgets you ever existed. It’s too late to take that back now, you really had to name-drop instead of saying “someone from work”. This is going to be one hell of a dinner and even more one hell of a talk with Hunnigan.

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“Were you being for real?” Hunnigan asked. She has her arms crossed, red glasses placed on her head amongst ebony curls.

“No… we aren’t anything. Just friends,” you regretfully admitted. You rest your head against your desk, cheek in contact with the cold surface.

Hunnigan giggles, grabbing the empty office chair beside you and scoots closer. “Really. ‘Just friends’, my ass. I see the way you look at him– heart eyes and all.”

You close your eyes and groan even louder, burying your face in your hands as you recall that fuck-up from last night. She wasn’t wrong about the heart eyes; you’ve harbored feelings towards that man for years now but you were always too much of a chicken to confess your feelings. Besides, this guy probably has someone in his heart– this fact shouldn’t hurt but it kind of does but who are you to dictate who he should love?

“You’re being so helpful right now, Ingrid. Thanks a lot,” you croaked.

“Why’d you even say his name in the first place? Could’ve gone with Patrick, he and Leon are in the same department.”

Boom. Could’ve said I was seeing Patrick instead… why’d it have to be that man with his stupidly pretty blue eyes and stupidly perfect, pink lips and his stupidly smooth voice and his stupidly charming smile…

“Well– Leon and I are friends, of course he somehow popped up in my mind first! And last night was not one of my brightest moments, okay? People make mistakes!”

Ingrid laughed like it was the funniest joke she’s ever heard, leaning back into the chair and crossing her arms.

“It’s not like your mom’s going to be content with just hearing you date someone. She’s going to ask for proof and probably ask to see him, knowing her.”

“I know! I know, it’s just… imagine going up to Leon and just saying the stupidest thing ever–”

“What stupid thing are you going to say to me?” Leon suddenly chimes in. You shoot up, almost stumbling backwards in the sheer speed you just exhibited. His sudden intrusion causes explosions of pink to burst on your cheeks, eyes to be wide.

“You look like you just saw a ghost,” he chuckles. I wish I was a ghost right now. I need to be 6 feet below ground.

“You’ll be in charge of keeping Y/N company the entire afternoon, Kennedy. I’ve got papers at my desk,” Hunnigan explains with a sly smirk. “Catch you later.” Leon throws her a thumbs up and as he turns around, she shoots you a wink. I swear, Hunnigan, I’m so going to throw hands with you!

“Don’t you have work to do?” You ask Leon.

“Nope. Finished them all yesterday,” he replied.

“Briefings?”

“Just came out of the last one earlier.”

“Training the rookies?”

“They don’t have training today.”

“Missions?”

“Won’t be in one as far as I know.”

Fuck he’s going to be with me all day… but didn’t I secretly wish for this…?

“What’s up with all the questions?” Leon asks. “You’re being weird today but then again, it’s not like you’re never weird.”

“Oh shut up.” You exclaim. Despite his joke, you remembered that part of Leon’s job includes being able to read people in terms of their body language which means that he would pick up whenever you were nervous around him. This is not my day.

“Well you’re always busy. It’s just new to see you not doing something,” you retort. You try to adjust your body language, making sure you look a lot less secretive and tense than you were earlier.

“And you’re the one busier than me this time,” he observes, tilting his head to the papers stacked on your desk. “I can help out if you want. They’re just reports right?”

“Um, yeah. I could use the help. That one’s the finished pile, the one beside it is the one that needs checking.”

“On it, ma’am.”

Shit that was kinda hot.

He takes a pencil from your mug and sets it right in front of him before taking a portion of the unfinished stack and placing it on the empty desk beside yours. He distances himself from you, brows furrowed in focus. He gets up and takes off his navy blue blazer, draping it over the back of his chair. If you think that was hot, he also proceeds to roll the sleeves of his crisp, white button-up up until his elbows, veins deliciously adorning his arms. His arms are straining against the fabric, ripples of his muscle bulging beneath. Leon, I swear to God, I’m going to get nothing done if you do my paperwork looking like an absolute snack– no, a 5-star Michelin meal that I can never, ever afford.

“Sight-seeing, I see.”

His voice snaps you from your swirl of diabolical thoughts, grounding you again.

“I wasn’t.”

“Your eyes on my hands told me otherwise.”

“Fuck off! Just do the paperwork!”

He simply smirks and chuckles to himself before really starting on the paperwork, blue eyes focused on the dark ink on paper, occasionally marking things. Lord have mercy, please, I just want to get work done.

Taking a deep breath, you take your own stack of papers and start work; it would be hypocritical if you kept urging Leon to work but you were just busy shamelessly drinking in your friend’s arms. Right. We’re just friends.

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Since two people worked on the papers, you managed to get them done faster than you thought. After dropping them off at your boss’ desk, you head back to your cubicle to get your things ready before clocking out for the day. Leon had already finished getting his things together and changed into black bootcut jeans and a black leather jacket over his white long sleeves, black helmet on the nook of his arm since he rode his bike home.

“You wanna ride?” Leon asks, which causes you to raise your eyebrows and smirk. “On my bike, I meant. Get your mind out of the gutter.”

“Of course I know what you mean, dumbass. And as much as I want to, I brought my car to work so… I’ll pass for now. Thanks though.”

He nods, before setting his helmet aside, and helping you pack your things even if they aren’t much. “Thanks again.”

“No problem.”

You two walk out of the dark office and make your way out of the building, heading for the parking lot. Just before you get into your car, he speaks up.

“So… you know how Valentine’s Day is highly commercialized?” he begins.

“Mhm. What about it?” you asked.

“There’s this high-end restaurant downtown and they’ve got good food at the cost of a wallet-decimating bill. They’ve got a discount for couples who dine there and… I was wondering if you’d wanna come along with me as a fake date. It’ll be easy on the pocket with the discount they’re offering.”

Your eyes widen, warmth creeping up from your back and settle at the nape of your neck. It’s not like he’s even asking you out on an actual dinner date, the man just wants to have dinner that’s easy on the pockets… even if he’s out here riding on the latest model of a Ducati but he still asked you out, instead of other women in the agency– women who have fuller hips and better hair than you do. Women who you think have a better chance of catching his eye anyways.

“That sounds nice. Um, yeah sure. I’m free. I’m assuming that this is going to be on the 14th?”

“Yep. So uh… I guess that’s a date then?”

“Yeah.”

The air turned slightly awkward, you two just standing around awkwardly with gazes either downcast or focused on something else.

“I’ll- I’ll go now, Leon. Um, bye!” you say.

“Uh, bye. Get home safe and goodnight,” he responds.

With a small nod, you get in your car and start it. Buckling your seatbelt, you pull out of your parking spot and drive home. You noticed that Leon stayed behind, making sure he got to see you leave before you catch a quick glimpse of his bike’s lights from your rear-view mirror.

You still felt kind of awkward around Leon especially with last night’s mortifying cover story but luckily his chill demeanor made you feel less on the edge. You thought about all the times he made you feel flustered: when he switched places with you on the sidewalk so he’d be the one on the outer part instead; when he ran to a convenience store to get you pads and new underwear when you bled while at work; see him interacting with one of your coworker’s kids; when he pretended to be your boyfriend when several drunk guys were trying to hit on you at a bar; the endless pet names he’d give you. Sometimes it felt like flirting but you know that Leon likes to joke with anyone; maybe you’re just looking too much into things and this is just a manifestation of your growing feelings for him. It’s hard not to fall for your best friend when he’s more than just good looks and his stupid jokes and beneath those he’s a truly brave man– probably the bravest man you’ve ever met. He’s stupidly selfless; in most situations where you’d probably run away and save yourself, he’d stay behind to finish the job at the cost of his life. He’s still standing firm at the faces of mind-bending horrors, doing this because “if no one does then who will”, as he always said. He probably has someone to fight for that’s why he’s this dedicated, even if he was forced into this kind of work. With a sigh, you turn up the volume on your radio and force all your thoughts to the back of your head; you’ll bring them out again later when you get home, accompanied with a cold beer.

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“So let me get this straight: Leon asked you out for dinner?” Hunnigan’s voice comes out of your laptop.

“Yep.” you respond.

“And you two will go as a fake couple to be able to get that discount because the food is normally expensive.”

“Mhm.”

“Listen, girl. I’ve known Leon longer than you have and it’s not like he’ll just ask random women out to be his fake date.”

“He didn’t ask me to be his fake date, he just asked me to come along with him.”

“Think about it: he could’ve asked anyone. He could’ve asked me or Ashley or Shen Mei but he chose to ask you! This is something!”

“It’s nothing. Besides, I was the only one at the parking lot with him so he asked since I was the nearest.”

“Dude! He was free the whole day! He had plenty of time to look for anyone else but he chose you!”

“He wasn’t exactly free since I had him help me out with reports.”

Hunnigan lets out an exasperated sigh at the other end of the call, probably frustrated that your negative thinking is getting the best of you. The both of you stay silent for a bit, nursing your beer before taking a small sip.

“Well, regardless of whatever he thinks of me, I’m going to enjoy dinner. It wouldn’t hurt to think about it as a friendly get-together, y’know,” you speak up.

“It would hurt, Y/N. I know you; you’ll probably get home and blast your greatest heartbreak hits or something,” Hunnigan points out. You bite your lip, not even making an effort to tell her she’s wrong when she’s painfully right– you’d sulk and just berate yourself for being so pathetic with these feelings.

“You know, you should just ask Leon what you are to him. Tell him you’re not happy with all the meaningless flirting if he’s doing that with non-romantic intentions. I’m sure he’d just apologize and beat himself up over it.”

You stay silent for a little longer, thinking about Hunnigan’s words. You’re an agent, for God’s sakes– you‘re supposed to be comfortable with confronting people and you are… just not with Leon but why? What are you so afraid of? For Leon to be distant from you and your friendship fizzling out into nothing? Maybe. Just maybe.

“Yeah. You’re right. Thanks girl, that was really good advice.”

“Hey, no problem. You can always count on me with your boy problems.”

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

Several days after that call, you managed to get out of work quite early. There wasn’t much to do since all papers that you and Leon did a few days ago were already good and there weren’t agents under your watch that were on overseas missions so you got off early. Since Leon offered to give you a ride to work on his bike, you didn’t bring your car along so you’ll commute going back home if you were to clock out earlier than him. You looked around for Leon, telling him that you were going to go home early to get yourself ready for the dinner “date” later this evening. You spotted him in the break room with a few other agents, chatting with Patrick.

“Leon, hey. I’ll be heading home now since I don’t have anything else to do. See you later.” You say with a small smile as you peeked around the door frame. Everyone turned from their conversations to look at you, then looked back at him.

“I can send you home, since I’m free too,” he offered. Though your gaze was on him, you could spot other agents with smirks on their faces.

“Yeah, Leon. We can take it from here, you can go out with Y/N. It’s Valentine’s Day too,” Shen Mei adds. She gives the agent beside her a small nudge with her elbow, shooting them a knowing look before shifting her eyes back to you.

“Are you okay with it, Y/N?” Leon asks. Though his voice sounds relaxed, you can see a hint of something that flashed in his eyes that you can’t quite put a finger on.

“Yeah. I’d like that,” you respond.

You swear you see Leon’s face light up when you say yes, instantly moving from where he was and going closer to you. “Let’s go.” he softly says. You don’t miss the ghost of his touch hovering over your waist, causing your heart to relentlessly pound against your ribcage. You bite back a small smile, chewing on the inside of your cheek and hoping that your cheeks don’t turn pink.

Now you two are in the parking lot, standing beside his bike. He hands you your own helmet while he wears his own, offering you his leather jacket, which you take anyways. Protection, he says.

“Hey, I think it’ll be a bit boring if you just head home so why don’t we do some things before dinner?” he suggested, putting his gloves on.

“What things?” You mused.

He averts his gaze for a little bit before continuing on, looking a little shy with his movements. “Maybe a visit to the park would be nice,” he offers in a small voice.

His sudden shyness makes you smile a little, a quiet giggling bubbles from your throat but you take his suggestion nevertheless.

“Sounds like a plan,” you say.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

The afternoon was fun; you two went to the park and took nice pictures of the view, though you noticed that Leon’s pictures were mainly of you but you didn’t mind it. You also suggested having ice cream and going to an empty playground, the sight of two adults on the swings and having the time of their lives both silly and wholesome. Of course, he sent you home safe and made sure to come back in 2 hours to pick you up for dinner. This time, he said that he’ll be using his car so that the wind won’t ruin your clothes. Immediately, you dashed to your room and picked out a dress and heels that you’ll wear for the dinner while also planning the make-up look you’re going for and figuring out what hairstyle you’ll be doing. An hour later, you shower and get dressed; the dress you chose hugged your body well, which made you feel a little more confident in yourself. You got your hair styled and your make-up done, opting to do it a little different than you usually do. After getting ready, you sent pictures of yourself to Hunnigan. In response, she sent so many voice messages of encouragement where she’s practically screaming. After a few minutes of waiting, Leon calls to let you know that he’s waiting outside.

You walk out and see him leaning on the hood of his car, an elegant arrangement of flowers on one hand.

“Hey,” you softly say. He turns around and faces you, taking a hand out of his trouser’s pocket. It’s as if his eyes have the moon and stars on them, his face lighting up when he sees you. He lets go of a breath he didn’t know he held, a subtle pinkness dusting his cheeks as he places a hand on your waist and leads you to the passenger side of the car. He walks over to his side and opens up the door, taking his time in staring at you for a little more.

“You’re gorgeous,” he mutters in a low voice that’s something else entirely, his words coming out with a slight rasp.

Now it’s your turn to feel flustered; why wear blusher on your cheeks when you have Leon to keep a blush on your cheeks all night long?

“Thanks. You don’t look too bad yourself, you know.”

He turns his attention to the steering wheel before he remembers to give you the bouquet, that dorky smile of his completing his look.

“Here, got you these. Just because this isn’t an actual date doesn’t mean I won’t put effort into it.”

Here we go again with another game of “is he into me or am I just looking into things too much?”.

“Thanks. These look really pretty,” you observe. You noticed that the flowers didn’t make you sneeze or cause your face to itch, much to your surprise.

“I remembered how you have allergies to flowers so I got ones that didn’t trigger an allergic reaction so I’m glad that turned out well.”

Oh. Oh.

Oh boy were you in deep. Leon Scott Kennedy, he’s really more than just a pretty face and dad jokes. He even remembers the little things. Gosh, I’m in deep.

“That’s… that’s really thoughtful of you, I really appreciate it.”

“No problem. So… shall we?”

“We shall.”

He starts the car and drives you two to the restaurant he talked about. During the entire ride, you noticed how his eyes wouldn’t stop flitting from the road and to you. You joked about keeping his eyes in front of him and how they can take their time admiring you during red lights or when you finally get to the dinner. You two sat in comfortable silence, sweet music coming from the radio filling in for the stillness inside the car. He stops at a red light, fingers drumming on the sleek leather of the steering wheel.

“Can I be honest with you, Y/N?” he suddenly asks.

You nod, turning your head to face him. “What is it?”

“I don’t want this to be a dinner between coworkers or friends.”

His words yank the breath from your chest, the inside of your mouth feeling a little parched. You can hear the thundering of your heart in your ears, drowning out the song on the radio.

“Huh?”

“Does this seem fake to you?”

“Yes– well, no– I mean–”

“I’m going to say it now while we’re not there yet: all this isn’t just for a discount.”

You go silent, thoughts disappearing and trying to piece things together. What does he mean by “does this seem fake” and “all this isn’t just for a discount”?

“What are you trying to tell me, Leon?”

“I heard you and Hunnigan days ago. You like me. I overheard you talking to her about your mom wanting you to see someone and then you blurting out that you were seeing me as a way to escape being set-up with some dude.”

Shit! He heard! I’m going to dive head-first into a cement-mixer right now. Argrhaghrag–

“I knew and heard that, that’s why I didn’t press any further.”

Didn’t press any further? Didn’t press with– Oh. He didn’t press any further when he suddenly piped in with his “what stupid thing are you going to tell me?” question because he already heard all the context he needed. He was just polite by not telling me he heard Every. Single. Thing.

“Listen, Leon. I’m so sorry– I was not thinking when I suddenly blurted that, I hope you don’t feel harassed or anything–”

“I like you, Y/N. That’s why I asked you, you specifically. I could’ve gone to dinner with anyone else but I didn’t.”

He runs a hand through brown locks, soft strands sifted through slender fingers.

“I asked you to dinner under the guise of wanting to take advantage of this day’s commercialization but I lied. There isn’t even a discount, actually. I just want dinner with you. The food really is great but I don’t think it’ll taste as great as eating it with someone I love.”

And to think that you didn’t expect him to ever like you.

“I don’t just want us to be friends, Y/N. Unless you think otherwise, then I’ll respect it.”

You two just sit there in total silence, some 80s romantic song serving as background music for whatever magical moment is happening right now. Leon looks a little more anxious now, sapphires shifting between your eyes and lips.

“I feel the same way too, Leon, and I don’t just want this to be a fake dinner– not ever. I just didn’t think that you’d actually get feelings for me when there’s all those other women in the office,” you shyly admit.

“I’m in love with you and you only, Y/N. They’re not you.”

Those words set off a reaction similar to a factory reset in your mind and suddenly, you don’t have a single thought and you’re not thinking before moving. You lean in from the passenger seat and with a silent prayer that his windows are tinted (highly likely they are), your hand finds its way into his blazer. You bunch the fabric up and draw him in for a kiss, shutting your eyes. You feel him tense up a little bit before he relaxes into your touch, a calloused hand reaching to cup your cheek. The soft smack of lips can be heard inside the car before you pull away, half-lidded eyes staring straight into inky pupils that swallowed all the blue in his eyes. Your gaze is downcast, admiring the glossy smear of your pink lip gloss on his lips.

“I bet I look real good with your kiss,” he rasps with a small smirk.

“I bet you’ll look better without these later,” you hinted while eyeing his suit, giving him a wink.

“Oh?”

This was not how you thought your dinner night would play out but you didn’t mind.

NOTE - Finally done with 3/4 Valentine's fics!!! Personally, I don't think anyone's getting me anything for Valentine's Day but a girlie can continue to dream :') I finally got to see my grades and I'm really happy with how it turned out-- all my grades (except for one subject-- WHICH IS NOT MATH surprisingly) went up by several percent so I hope I get to do the same thing this quarter!!!! Anyways, that's it and thank you for reading this fic!!!!! I <;333333 U

The dividers are made by @cafekitsune , the images are made by me (sourced from Pinterest).

#leon kennedy #resident evil #leon kennedy x y/n #fluff #leon kennedy x reader #leon scott kennedy #leon kennedy fluff #leon s kennedy #leon s kennedy fluff #biohazard #resident evil x reader #rebhfun #infinite darkness #resident evil leon #resident evil: infinite darkness

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spacedace · 10 months

Text

Here have some snippets of the AU that’s taken over my brain (featuring Elle unintentionally dunking on both of Bruce’s identities, Clark realizing he passed his taste in partners on to his son, a bit of pre/unaware that they are dating Super Serious Chaos, and some blink-and-you-miss-it background Enemies to Lovers Dick/Dan)

---

“Sorry, who’s Bruce Wayne?”

The room when quiet. All heads turned to look at Elle at the end of the table. Bruce didn’t visibly react, but Clark could make out the subtle indication of disbelief that his old friend was feeling - that they all were feeling at the interpreter’s question. Elle, suddenly aware she had the full room’s attention, had the look of someone who realized they’d said something wrong, but didn’t know what.

“You’re kidding.” John said, “You know Bruce Wayne. Everyone knows Bruce Wayne.”

Elle blinked. “I don’t.” She glanced from face to face, “Is he like a big deal? Does he work here or something? I haven’t been around that long so I might have missed him.”

It took every bit of self control Clark had not to laugh. His voice still came out a bit strangled from the effort as he offered, “No he doesn’t work here.” If Bruce was the type to do so in uniform, he’d be kicking Clark under the table.

“You live in Gotham. You have to know Bruce Wayne.” Barry said, voice going a bit high with growing bewilderment. “Mega ba-jillionair. CEO of Wayne Tech? Richest man in Gotham - in the world? Has like a hundred kids?”

Their interpreter’s nose scrunched. “So he’s like…in one of those fundamentalist cults obsessed with having a bunch of kids or something?”

Bruce actually twitched at that. The sound of utter disgust in Elle’s voice at the concept, the complete and total lack of any kind of recognition she had for the single most famous non-crime or crime-fighting related person in the city that she lived in, she truly had no idea who they were talking about. Clark had to get a recording of the room’s security feed, Lois would love this. Oh, wait no, Bruce’s kids. Maybe if he was fast enough he could text Dick to get there ASAP so he could see it all in person before it was over.

“No! Nothing like that! He adopted them - well most of them.” Barry tried to explain, looking utterly lost as he turned from Elle to the rest of them and back again. “You’re messing with us right? This is like a joke?”

Elle shook her head, looking just as lost as Barry did. “I have no idea who you’re talking about.”

“Do you know Dick Grayson?”

“I know of an officer Grayson who is a dick. Total tool. He’s been making my brother’s Dan’s life miserable for like a year now. Pretty sure not who you’re talking about though.”

“Jason Todd.”

“The library goon?”

“Tim Drake.”

“Sounds like a Dark Wing Duck character.”

“Cassandra Cain.”

“Isn’t that the author that started out writing incest Harry Potter fanfic?”

“Duke Thomas?”

“What’s he a Duke of?”

Barry snapped his fingers, pointing emphatically at Elle with a look of victory on his masked face as he shouted, “Damian Wayne!”

Damian, who had at that moment just walked into the meeting room with Jon at his heels paused in his place just behind Elle. He did pretty well at hiding his surprise at Barry seemingly shouting his civilian name and pointing at him upon walking in. Though the tense line of his shoulders suggested that if Barry was actually revealing his secret identity without warning or permission, there would be blood.

Stella Nightingale, unaware of the almost-kinda identity reveal going on around her, tilted her head in confusion at the speedster. “I’m assuming he’s related to that Bruce Wayne guy?”

“They’re all related to Bruce Wayne.” John said with open amusement now. The Green Lantern had given up on the research entirely, watching the entire debacle with a growing smirk he kept casting towards Bruce. “That man’s face is plastered absolutely everywhere in the news. How do you not know who he is?”

“If Lois Lane hasn’t written about him he can’t be that important.” Elle said with a casual certainty of one speaking a core tenant of their beliefs. Clark’s opinion of the young woman - already quite high considering her ferocious loyalty and fondness to Jon - rose sharply.

“You’re read the Daily Planet?” Clark asked, warmth curling in his chest at the mention of his wife and her work.

“I read articles by Lois Lane.” Elle said promptly, “I tried reading some articles that Kent guy she partners with sometimes wrote on his own but I couldn’t get past his writing style. Dude sounds like he’s from outer space with his word choice sometimes.”

Bruce, looking far too pleased, gave a quiet and not terribly convincing cough as Clark tried to will his soul back into his body.

It was going to be a long day.

—

“You are at least aware of who Gotham’s vigilantes are, yes?” Damian asked with a raised brow behind his mask.

Elle shrugged, giving him a sly smile. “The relevant ones.”

Clark tried to hide his short laugh with a feigned cough. Elle at least was distracted enough with Jon and Damian’s attention to notice but Bruce was giving him a look over the tablet he was trying - and undoubtedly failing - to review files on.

Jon grinned eagerly from his spot beside Elle as he asked, “Aren’t they all relevant to you? You live in Gotham.”

“I live in Crime Alley.” Elle corrected, bumping his shoulder with hers. “We have different standards of relevancy there.”

“So what are the relevant ones then?” Clark asked, pointedly ignoring Bruce’s burning stare. They’d get back to the research. Eventually. Finding out if the Gothamite who had been spending all her free time with Phoenix and Flamebird for the past year and a half was as oblivious to her city’s heroes as she was its celebrities was too entertaining a notion to pass up.

“Phoenix, obviously.” She grinned cheekily at Damian across the table, ticking names off her fingers as she continued. “Red Hood. Spoiler. Uh…Orphan?” She trailed off, forehead scrunching in concentrated thought.

“That’s can’t be all the ones you know.” Jon gaped, eyes sparkling with amusement as he glanced over to were Bruce was seated, not five feet away before turning back to watch Elle try to rack her brain for any more Gotham vigilantes. Clark could see the moment that the words are taken as a challenge as Elle sat up and looked more determined.

“No, shut up, I know more. Uh…there’s the one, um Red Sparrow? It’s another bird one with red name, I’m pretty sure. And the one with the blue - fuck I should know his name. Nightjar? Wasn’t Nightingale I would have remembered that…shit, dude threw up on our couch once I should remember his name -“

“Nightwing threw up on your couch?”

“Nightwing! That’s the bitch! He got poisoned or something and Dan drug him to our place to patch him up since Doc Thompkins’ clinic was closed.”

Clark shared a look with Bruce and Damian. Dick had failed to mention that little event. Clark could see Bruce reaching for his wrist computer, undoubtedly typing out a message his eldest about what he’d just heard - possibly another to Alfred if he was feeling like pulling out the big guns.

At the other end of the table Elle ticked Nightwing off with a nod, even as Jon squawked that it shouldn’t count since he’d given her the name, “Then there’s…uh…oh! Harley Quinn!”

“Harley Quinn does not count.”

“She beat up a guy trying to mug me last week and got me a hot chocolate afterwards, she totally counts!”

“Someone tried to mug you?”

“Crime Alley, Nix, if someone doesn’t try to mug me while I’m out I get worried that I missed Hood calling in a Street Clear for something big.”

“We’re going to circle back on that later.” Jon said, sharing a pointed glance with Damian. It looked like young Miss Nightingale was going to be getting escorted to and from the Watchtower from now on.

Ah, Clark mused, falling head over heels for someone with no understanding of the concept of self-preservation and a stubborn determination to run straight into the heart of danger without a second thought. It brought back such fond memories. Of both Lois and Bruce. And Diana. And - Hmm. Kara might have been right. Clark might have a type.

Watching the three at the other end of the table and taking them in, Clark realized he might have passed his taste in partners on to his son. Well, at least he’ll be able to give Jon some advise on how to handle the heart attacks Damian and Elle will inevitably give him.

“Harley Quinn doesn’t count. You got any more?”

Elle rolled her eyes, muttering about Harley totally counts, before leaning back in her chair. “I think I’m out. I know there’s more but,” She gave a shrug, “I’m tapped out. Those are all the ones I can think of.”

It was, surprisingly, Bruce that spoke up at that declaration, a slant of amusement to his lips as he asked, “No one else comes to mind?”

Elle waved him off, attention turning to the mountain of alien script they needed her to translate for them. It was the reason she was even there rather than in her office trying to translate whatever incredibly dangerous magic tomb JL Dark had dropped off without accidentally summoning a demon or ending hte world in the process. J’onn was right, they really should give her a raise.“That’s all I got.” She said with a sigh, “Like I said, I know the relevant ones.”

“Hn.”

Twenty minutes of shared looks of amusement and suppressed laughter later Elle’s head shot up, a look of wide eyed embarrassment on her face. “Oh my god.”

“There it is.”

“About time Nightingale, I was starting to be concerned about your mental faculties.”

“Shut up, this so embarrassing!”

“Don’t sweat it kid, we all have our moments.”

“I can’t believe I forgot Signal.”

“What.”

---

Context of this snippet if anyone is interested:

This is actually the same AU as the Steph & Jason sibling bonding Anger Management snippet from a bit ago (I’m calling it my Ghosts in Gotham AU in scrivener so I guess that’s what I’ll call it here lol). This time focused on Elle and her misadventures as a Totally Normal Civilian (TM) working for the Justice League with her two besties Jon & Damian (none of them realize yet that they’ve been dating for months).

No idea when this is supposed to take place in terms of timeline with the other snippet, but kinda vibing the idea that while Steph & Jason are having a heart to heart on a rooftop over their shared background and Jason’s future as a dad, Elle is up in the Watchtower telling Bruce Wayne to his face that she has no idea who he is and forgetting Batman is a Gotham vigilante while he’s sitting at the same table as her.

Anyway, this AU has taken over my life. Expect more nonsense to come lol

#dp x dc #dc x dp #dpxdc #dani phantom #danielle phantom #super serious chaos #superseriouschaos #jon kent #jon el kent #Damian Wayne #clark kent #justice league #bruce wayne #barry allen #john stewart #ghosts in gotham au #batfam #elle doesn't pay any attention to the famous people in gotham unless they're trying to kill her or save her #and she might not even pay attention then #and yes this is more of my headcanon that the Justice League is the world's biggest polycule #no i will never let that headcanon go i love it too much #there's a version of this world where Elle never figures out that Bruce Wayne is supposed to be kind of a big deal #years in the future she Dami & Jon are married & she has a new friend she's made over for lunch #and they see some of the family photos and are like #is that fucking Bruce Wayne at your wedding?#Elle - oblivious: oh you know my father-in-law?#Bruce gets unmasked before Elle knows about everyone's identities & he's freaking out while she's just #full lex luthor moment: I have no idea who this is #Bruce: you know who I am now #Elle - does not know who he is but doesn't want to admit to it guessing: Clark Kent?

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 months

Text

Dirty Work 2

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bullying, familial discord/abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You start a new gig and find one of your clients to be hard to please.

Characters: Loki

Note: Let me know if you want more. Didn't get too much on Part 1 but I have ideas so...

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Your third week begins in the same place. Before the iron gate, the code unlocking the green maze within. You’re still just as impressed as your first day there. To you, it’s like a fantasy. Entirely unattainable but it’s right there. You can look, but you can’t touch… not beyond cleaning.

You linger outside, not thinking. You admire the tall tulips and the hedge trimmed to resemble some landmark you can’t quite place. You could see a place like this in an Austenian film or perhaps something Victorian. You don’t have an eye for the difference.

You key in the code for the backdoor and continue on. You put covers on your shoes and grab a fresh set of gloves. You’re getting into a pattern, though each client differs slightly. You put your things away and bring your water bottle with you. You bought a cool strap that keeps it against your hip, a small splurge with your first paycheck. The rest went to bills.

As you start on your usual journey through the many rooms of the airy house, you wonder how its sole resident isn’t lonely. Or perhaps he is. He doesn’t seem the type to admit to it. You turn your thoughts back to your work. You try not to think of him, truly, you don’t know much of him.

You take a candlestick and polish it. You move on the small globe; an ivory orb on a silver axes, the outlines of the continent carved into the surface. As you put it back, you notice something. An item you can’t recall being there before. You reach for it but stop as you realise it’s a camera.

You retract your hand and move on to dust the shelf itself. Does he not trust you or was it there before? Of course, somewhere like this would need security. There was a story just the other day about a break-in, but that was closer to your father’s where those culprits dwell.

The second floor is always easier. It seems even less lived-in than below. All but the study and the main bedroom. You flit in and out, checking points off the list until you’re content. You can only hope he will be too.

As you descend, the epiphany tickles your brain. It’s the first shift he hasn’t appeared. It’s easy to assume he’s busy. You don’t expect him to hang around. As if he would supervise you. Besides, that’s probably what the cameras are for.

You pack up and get your single refill of water. You leave the way you came, as you have twice before. The keypad flashes red to signal the lock is in place. You haul your kit higher on your shoulder and tread slowly along the little path along the side of the house.

You look at the gazebo trimmed in hanging ivy. It’s beautiful. You’d like to venture up and sit on that bench. Just sit and watch and smell and feel. You force the thought away and turn back along the stonework.

You’re going home. Not to pollen but tobacco smoke. Not to lush gardens but wilting strands in soggy mud. Not to immaculate floors and pristine decor but to stained walls and broken springs in your mattress.

Home, to another man that makes you nervous.

🧹

Your father is as he always is, smoking on the couch. You say hi as you come in with a bag of groceries, the prize for what was left of your check. He grumbles and flicks through the channels. You go to the kitchen to put away the food.

You’re almost at the end of your first month, a third of the way through your probationary period. Hopefully after that, you can pick up more clients. You shut the cupboard and go back to the living room. Your father coughs into a crumpled tissue. He sounds horrible. You can’t say so, he doesn’t seem to care.

“I got some fresh produce,” you announce proudly, “I’ll steam some veggies with the chops.”

“You get fries?” He growls.

“Uh, no,” you admit, “I thought we could eat something healthier–”

“I don’t like steamed veggies,” he drops the remote and grabs his pack of smokes.

“Oh, sorry, I was only thinking–”

“Don’t lie and say you were,” he snorts as he pulls out a cigarette and taps the end of the pack. “Go on, I’m tryna watch this.”

He nods at the television and you follow his gaze to the rerun of All in the Family. He’s seen them all before. You take the dismissal and retreat up to your room. Like you always do.

It’s always been like this. You don’t hate your father but sometimes it feels like he hates you. You put your kit and your water bottle on your dress and change into clean clothes. You lay in bed and close your eyes, trying to let go of the tension in your muscles.

You don’t remember your mom but he does. You assume that’s why he’s like this. It’s not you, it’s what happened. Tragic. A loss he won’t talk about.

You rub your forehead and let your arms fall to bend on either side of your head. You only ever saw one picture of your mother. You don’t think you look like her. She was pretty. And young. You were always too afraid to ask about her but you could tell she was younger than him. No one could’ve expected her to go so soon.

You close your eyes. It’s a strange sort of grief to miss someone who is only a shadow in your mind. Not even a voice, just this ghost you know by name. Mommy…

You blow out a deep breath in an effort to bid away the sadness. That was so long ago. This is now and you have a lot to worry about.

🧹

The Laufeyson house greets you once more with its elaborate brickwork. It’s starting to feel familiar, like a habit to put in the new code and walk along the winding path around to the back door. Six more numbers and you’re inside; shoe covers, gloves, bottle, and the list.

You always check the new email sent by the agency. There’s always something small and new squeezed into the bullet points. This week, you notice the first task is laundry.

‘Retrieve hamper from hallway. When hamper is left outside door, it means clothes must be washed.’

Easy enough. You go upstairs first and take the tall hamper from beside the door frame. It’s heavy and there’s no wheels to aid in your struggle. The laundry room is downstairs. Your descent is treacherous, one step at a time as you haul the basket down step by step. If Mr. Laufeyson is there, he can’t happy with the noise.

You finally get to the machine and follow the instructions about cycle type and separating colours from whites. However, there is only the bedding to be cleaned. You load the linens in and take a moment to figure out the touchscreen. Your father’s machine has a dial that only works on one setting and gives off a dingy stench.

You leave the basket in front of the washer and retreat to start your usual progression through the urban manse. Mop, sweep, dust, vacuum, polish; hallway, kitchen, dining room, sitting room… Nothing unusual or unexpected.

As you cross the narrow foyer to the den, the sunshine glows a warm orange through the slender windows on either side of the front door. The patterning of the glass reflects prettily on the floor. Despite your best efforts, you can’t help but imagine residing somewhere so brilliant.

You sigh and carry on. You’re sure to open the long drapes to let in the late spring sunshine. It’s not so bad working in the light and you can see where the rare spec of dust is hiding. You go to the tall shelf beside the record player and pull out the albums to wipe beneath them. Music would be jarring in a place always so silent.

You slip the albums back into place, pulling out one to admire the cover; Ane Brun. You’ve never heard of them. You read the track list curiously. You know you shouldn’t be wasting time.

“I don’t believe I’d have anything to your taste on my shelf,” the mocking slither has you pushing the album in line with the rest.

You almost apologise but you remember. You don’t speak. You just clean. So clean.

You glance over at Mr. Laufeyson as he struts in, a book held in one hand as his other is tucked in his pocket. He wears his usual pressed attire; a dark button-up and even darker slacks. You note that he has no tie that day. A single curl dangles by his temple as the rest of his black hair is precisely combed back.

You return to your tasks, gently wiping the cover of the record player and along the stand. You hear the book drop onto the low table before the sofa before his footsteps continue on; closer. He approaches as you get to the next shelf, a collection of EPs in unmarked sleeves.

You wince as he stops near you, flipping up the cover of the sleek record player before stepping back to peruse his selection. You do your best to keep on as he looms. The air is thick and suffocating. Should you go to the next room and come back?

He slips a record free of its sleeve and places it carefully on the players. He moves the needle over and flips the switch, a crackle before the sound drones from the tall standing speakers. Acoustic guitar with a gritty feel to it. The sudden addition of a woman’s voice jolts you; her tone is peculiar but not unpleasant.

When I woke I took the backdoor to my mind And then I spoke I counted all of the good things you are

He backs away without a word. Not an explanation. You finish cleaning the second shelf and dare to glance over. He reads his book on the couch, unbothered by your existence. That isn’t too unfamiliar.

You finish the space but leave the vacuuming for later. You wouldn’t want to ruin the music. You go into what you can only call a sunroom. The french doors peek out onto the garden and a patio set with a large dining set in white iron and glass.

The music drifts in and keeps you company. It almost makes the work easier. You make quick work and go to check the washer to switch over the load. Once you have the dryer figured out, you begin on the second floor.

It’s only as you come out of one of the guestrooms that you notice the silence is returned. You turn down the hallway and near the next door. You enter the study with your usual reverence. Something about the space is intimidating.

The large leather chair with its dimpled back and the even bigger desk; slabs of marble set into polished ebony. Shelves of a similar material, decked out with numerous volumes and the occasional ornament. Some appear even to be genuine artifacts. The rug at the centre is patterned in Persian style.

Behind the desk are a set of doors that open onto a balcony. The drapes are drawn shut. You find that is often the case. It’s a sombre and dark space hidden from the bright gardens without. Your tasks here are minimal. You use the hand vacuum and dust the shelves. You aren’t to touch the desk at all.

A shadow startles you as you drag the cloth along the edge of the bookshelf. Your eyes round and you look over as Mr. Laufeyson enters. You blanch but he doesn’t acknowledge you. He sighs and goes to the desk, sitting in the chair and wheeling it closer. You narrow your sights on the shelves; focus.

You feel a tremble but quickly shake it away. This is his home, he must be able to exist within it, but this feels strange, almost deliberate. Is he trying to make some point? To scare you? You remember the mention of those who came before you. Did they quit or did he dismiss them? Regardless, you can’t afford either.

It isn’t that difficult to follow the rules. Don’t speak? You haven’t much to say. You get closer as you advance along the shelves to the back of the office. He lets out another long exhale. His chair creaks, once, twice, and again.

“Hm,” he rolls back and swivels, an action you observe from the corner of your eye. He tuts and wheels back to the desk, resuming tapping on the keys of his slender laptop. The glow limns his silhouette sinisterly.

You rustle the drapes as you pass them and cross to the opposite shelves. As you brush over the spines of the books, you nearly drop the cloth. His low hum frightens you as he mimics the same melody that played from the speakers below. His tone is deep and sonorous, even delightful.

You squeeze the cloth and pause before regaining your composure. This cannot be a coincidence. The camera and now he’s following you. Or so it seems. Does he distrust you? What reason have you given him?

You are mindful to wipe down the bronze statue of what you assume is a viking warrior. You place it back staunchly, making sure your work is entirely visible to him. You are honest and you like to think you do your work well. Or at least, you try to. Perhaps if he sees that effort, he won’t be so suspicious.

As you head for the door, he quits his humming. His chair squeaks again.

“You are rather more thorough than the last,” he muses.

You stop and turn your head. You nod. He’s baiting you to break his number one rule.

“And you take orders well,” he adds blithely, “that is rare these days.” He taps a key again, “as you were.”

You take the dismissal in stride and flit off to your next task. It isn’t much, maybe only a statement of fact, but it’s something. He isn’t unhappy with your work. So far, neither are you.

#loki #dark loki #dark!loki #loki x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #au #maid au #marvel #mcu #thor #avengers

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ozzgin · 6 months

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Yandere! Edward Scissorhands x Reader

On her quest to make at least one sale for the day, Avon lady Peg cautiously steps into the eerie mansion of a known inventor. She soon learns that it has long been devoid of life, with the exception of Edward, a synthetic human creation left unfinished. She returns to the bright suburbs accompanied by the poor young man, earning the curious stares of the bystanders. Among the colorful houses, however, Edward spots a gloomy dwelling that the neighbors seem to avoid. Who is the mysterious occupant?

Winner of the Halloween Poll! A short gothic romance in the style of Tim Burton, where two outsiders find solace in each other.

[Horror Masterlist]

The light yellow car slows down as it reaches the driveway and the engine stops. Peg makes her way out and hurries over to the passenger side, keys dangling between her fingers. She helps Edward out once she sees him awkwardly shuffling in the seat, unsure of his next step.

"You'll love it here. I just know it."

The woman hastily closes the door behind the tall, peculiar visitor. She places a gentle hand on his back and guides him down the asphalted path.

Edward's gaze briefly wanders further into the street. The houses are slithering along neatly, their vivid colors somewhat tiring to his unaccustomed eyes. Yet one of them sticks out. Strangely enough, it reminds him of home. A rusty iron fence surrounds the property, and patches of lush, unkempt vegetation creep through the bars. The walls are dark and crooked and the black tiled roof casts a shadow over the entire abode.

"Who lives there?" The question escapes his lips almost unconsciously.

Peg follows his gaze, eager to introduce the area to him. Once she settles on the source of his inquiry, her smile falters for a second.

"Oh, my. That's, well..." she lets out a forced laugh and encourages him to continue walking. "I'm glad you're already so curious, Edward dear. You'll get to know everyone soon, don't worry about it."

One more push and the guest has securely entered the house. As she prepares to twist the knob into a lock, she peeks out for the last time, surveying the surroundings with mild worry. A neighbor is walking their dog, whistling in the distance. As they approach the mysterious building, the animal begins to bark and the owner scurries to the other side of the street.

"He's so...strange!" one housewife exclaims, sipping on her lemonade.

Joyce is biting the temple tips of her sunglasses as she carefully inspects the dark haired man, currently using his sharp, spear fingers as barbecue skewers. She's batting her long eyelashes, entranced. She does like her men on the enigmatic side. In fact, she might just have a word with him. She folds the sunglasses and hangs them by the collar of her low-cut blouse. Of course, she doesn't forget her famous ambrosia salad as she departs from the rest of the fidgeting women.

"Ed, darling. You must try out my signature dish!" she daintily holds up a spoon and attempts to feed the pale newcomer.

He cautiously opens his mouth, unsure of how else to respond to the gesture. He tries to find Peg within the crowd, hoping she'll give him a new task away from this uncomfortably touchy person. And as luck would have it, his savior has come to the rescue. Peg doesn't hesitate to pull Edward away, cheerfully mumbling a domestic excuse.

Once freed from the shackles of awkward social interactions, the man tiptoes his way out of the yard and down the street. He doesn't like the constant murmur of people talking. He doesn't understand the jokes, the loud laughs, the complicit slaps on the back. He feels as if he's on the other side of a glass window, separated from an audience demanding cooperation despite him only being able to discern muffled, discontinued meaning.

None of this was mentioned in the Etiquette book. Or perhaps it has always been there, and the Inventor never got to the specific chapter. Died lamentably before he could explain how one navigates neighborhood BBQ parties.

Edward's step is clumsy and he doesn't have a particular direction in mind. In his scattered daze he nearly trips over something and turns around apologetically. You're sitting on the ground, resting against the fence. The book you were reading is now thrown aside, as you're too busy massaging the ankle that just got kicked by the sudden intruder. You look up, ready to scold the responsible airhead, but your eyes stop on an eccentric feature that catches your attention.

"What happened to your hands?"

You're a little embarrassed by your unexpected, tactless curiosity. The man seems entirely unfazed, however.

"They weren't finished. I'm incomplete."

"Hmm. Isn't everyone?"

Edward considers the question and recalls the people he's met so far. Peg and her husband. Joyce. The children.

"But they don't look unfinished. They have all the body parts."

You chuckle slightly at the literal observation.

"Well, you can't check them on the inside, can you? Most people have missing parts. Or broken ones."

"Where would you get it fixed, then?" Edward is startled by this new discovery.

"You learn to fix it yourself. Otherwise it just stays like that, maybe forever."

He lifts his hands and stares at them. Is he going to be like this forever, too? He hasn't pondered the concept of time much before Peg had found him. Yet now, 'forever' feels unsettling.

"Do your hands bother you that much?"

Edward doesn't know how to reply. He wishes he could resemble everyone else, that much is true. Then people wouldn't stare. And they wouldn't be afraid. As he mulls over the right words, he suddenly becomes aware of his surroundings. It's the house he noticed earlier, when he first arrived here. Which means...

He examines the person before him. They, too, look complete. So why?

"Why does everyone avoid this place?" He remembers the gathering he just left. "You weren't at the neighborhood party either. I thought all neighbors will show up."

"I was never invited."

"Why?"

You shrug.

"You're also not currently attending, are you? Otherwise you wouldn't be here."

"I took a break. It's too loud. Can I sit here?"

Before you can answer, he drops himself next to you with a thud. His fingers swish together as he adjusts his posture.

"Oh, sorry, I forgot. What is your name? I'm Edward."

"Uhh... (Y/N)." You mutter, taken aback by his direct approach. What an odd fellow, you think to yourself.

"Nice to meet you, (Y/N)." As he scans your features again, he feels compelled to add, "You look rather pretty."

A faint blush takes over your face and you twirl your hair in an attempt to hide it. Is he mocking you? You genuinely can't read his intentions.

"You don't look too bad yourself, Edward. I think the hands add to your charm." You eventually find the confidence to blurt it out, quickly following up with a laugh.

His heart tightens and he almost forgets about his hazardous extremities, having to stop himself from touching his now throbbing chest. He's never malfunctioned before. It doesn't feel like anything is wrong, either. Your comment, for some reason, made him very happy.

(Y/N). Looking back to everything that happened, he's glad. Maybe he should thank Joyce next time he sees her. He wouldn't have met you otherwise.

As the sun begins to set, you remind Edward that it's impolite to leave a party for too long. He protests, stating he prefers your company. As flattered as you are, you rephrase it as Peg being worried about his sudden disappearance and he feels bad enough to agree on his early retirement. On the condition he can hang out with you again. Once you guarantee a reunion, he makes his way back home.

As he lays on Kim's bizarrely fluid mattress, tucked into the layered pastel sheets, Edward is overwhelmed by a strange, unfamiliar warmth. A wide, childish smile is plastered on his face and won't go away. Each time he closes his eyes to fall asleep, he pictures the encounter. (Y/N). It's a nice name, isn't it? He finds it particularly charming. He whispers it out loud in the dark room, as if making sure it's real. Reminding himself you're real.

He can't properly explain it. It's the same thick window that stands between him and the world, but you're next to him. An outsider. A rejection. The idea that someone else out there shares his struggle has cleansed him of any longing for acceptance. Why bother with a sea of foreign, smudged faces? Peg becomes Joyce, and Joyce fades into Marge, and they all become a generic crowd of smiling pleasantries. It's a funny thing, being among humans. Once he left his old mansion behind, he realized how truly alone he had been. Still, being surrounded by people he could not comprehend made him feel even more lonely. That is the tragedy; sitting at the grand table, empty handed, unseen, unheard. Misunderstood. No one's fault, really. It just happens. But every now and then, if fate so allows, one might just find another starved attendant. With the same glint in their eyes, of someone not belonging.

Oh, he can't wait to see you again.

It's unusually noisy outside for a late evening and you can't help but glance out the window. That's when you notice the roaring crowd, trampling in a hysterical march of unknown purpose. You have a bad feeling about it. The horned moon leers down at you like a bad omen and you quickly throw a jacket on, sprinting into the street.

"What's this all about?" you shyly ask the nearest group.

"Witch!" Esmeralda scowls at you with a pointing finger.

Peg notices the commotion and runs towards you, completely disregarding the prophetic warnings of the woman.

"Oh, (Y/N). It's Edward. They..." she sighs, frustrated. "I know I don't have the right to ask you this, but you're his friend. Could you please make sure he's alright?" Her voice is pleading and regretful.

You nod without saying anything else. Before you turn to leave, you swiftly gesture to Esmeralda, raising your index fingers up and mimicking a devilish look. She gasps and throws her hands together in prayer.

It had to be done.

Meanwhile, Edward has reached his old mansion and just now stopped in the entrance hall, panting anxiously. He feels nauseous and helpless. It's not that he's being chased by the enraged members of the neighborhood that alarms him. He cannot stand the possibility of not being in your presence ever again. How frightful, how agonizing! He claws at a nearby column in turmoil.

It can't be, it won't happen. He'll tear his way through the masses if he has to. Oh, what a terrible thought. His Inventor would roll in the grave if he knew the violent ruminations that plague him right now. But if he has no other choice...Would he go as far as taking someone's life if it was for your sake? Well, technically speaking, his sake, really. He wants to see you. He needs to.

Panic slowly creeps through his body. The thoughts are piling up in an erratic hum and he can't find his focus again. He paces back and forth, attempting to recollect himself, but there's an urgency that drowns him in cold sweat.

"Edward?"

The ringing stops. A switch has been flipped and he snaps his head in the direction of the voice. It's you. Completely spellbound, he extends his hand to touch your face, verifying whether you might be an illusion of his feverish desires instead. The blade pierces your skin, leaving a bright red trail behind.

"I'm so sorry-" he cries out, realizing his act.

You softly lower his hand with a reassuring smile.

"It's just a small cut. Don't worry about it. I think we have more important matters at hand, won't you agree?" you joke as you nudge your head towards the window.

"I spoke to the police officer on the way here, so we shouldn't have any surprise guests."

You remove your jacket and throw it over some dusty furniture before climbing up the stairs. Halfway through you briefly stop and urge Edward to join you. He simply nods.

When the issue is settled and everything has been said and done, will you return to your miserable exile? Won't the neighbors become suspicious if you're frequently seen sneaking up the hill? Perhaps even the utmost secrecy won't prolong the visits much.

And then what?

As he considers the potential scenarios, he becomes increasingly impatient. The joy of your return has been tainted by the impending doom of abandonment. He wishes you'd just stay with him here, forever.

Once the conclusion has been reached, he lets out a quiet apology. Maybe to you, maybe to the beloved Inventor, maybe even to himself. He inserts a finger into the entrance lock and silently twists it.

You must forgive him. Or at least try to understand him. He just loves you too much, (Y/N). Is it truly such a hideous crime? To want to keep you safe? If so, he will live with the guilt. But not without you.

You're home.

#edward scissorhands #edward scissorhands x reader #johnny depp x reader #tim burton #tim burton movies #halloween imagine #spooky season #yandere #yandere x reader #halloween

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somelazyassartist · 4 months

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To go with my last post about Thistle acting capital-W Weird™ around Laios, it really does make perfect sense when you think about their history from Thistle's perspective instead of through Laios' like we actually see.

Imagine being Thistle, and you're like, I don't know, 14, and you're the royal court jester and adoptive son of your King. And you just got a baby brother and you're so excited about it. It is, without doubt, the happiest day of your life so far. While you're celebrating a few of your family's servants and guards come in to help. One seems somewhat confused about the situation but you probably assume he's just a new hire, it makes sense to bring in added security when there's a new prince around. You don't see this knight again anytime afterwards, but you're not exactly in charge of hiring or firing guards, so it's not really any of your business where he wandered off to.

You are Thistle, and you're now probably around 40 or so, still rather young for an Elf but a fine young man nonetheless. You're all dressed up to the nines and eager to perform your newest flute composition in honor of your little brother's wedding, and you're so, so proud of how far he's come. You helped your father raise him well. And just as the ceremony's about to kick up, and the people are starting to get drunk and make merry and dance, the King, your father, collapses. Poison, assassination, you hear people cry out. But as you run towards him you slam right into one of your guards- and have the extremely fleeting thought of "WAS that one of our guards? I haven't seen them around but they seem so familiar somehow"- but as soon as the thought occurs you're snapped right back into the present, and the fact that your father was murdered right in front of your eyes, and that you couldn't do a thing to stop it.

It's been a small time now, enough that you've had time to lay your King to rest, and to prepare your brother for the throne. It's his coronation day. You should be happy- you are PROUD, of course, of how far your little brother has come- but it is not the joyous day that you would have hoped for, and instead one of mourning for you. And looking around the room as the Kingdom's crown changes bearers, you see a guard, rather out of place. And this time, you have time to process why he feels so strange here. You've seen this man before. You KNOW you've seen this man before. This is the man who you have seen exclusively on the best day of your life and the worst, with no trace of him elsewhere in your life, and he is here, now, again. And for one who is clearly a Tallman, he hasn't aged a single day. There is something wrong with him, and with you, and you feel that if you keep crossing paths it will only end in disaster for you. So you try to kill him. And he disappears, right in front of your eyes. You don't see him around after this. You pray you never will again.

You are now The Mad Sorcerer- no longer, even, the false name given to you by your King. Only the title used by those who want to kill you remains in people's minds. It's been so long now. You can't even count how many years it's been, but you know your life has reached centuries upon centuries past what you were meant to live. And so has everyone you've ever cared about. In these years you have done everything you can to preserve the last bit of what you can call home, trapping yourself and your entire kingdom in an oasis of immortality. So what if the people may grow to resent you? You're protecting them. It's not your fault people may mistake your kindness for cruelty. Though many adventuring parties have tried, none have gotten through your defenses, so as long as you keep focused on your goal things will be fine. Except for this last week or so, where one particularly troublesome party has been making their way further than most would dare venture. And you swear on your Kingdom's throne, if this party includes who you think it includes, you are going to have a fucking aneurysm.

You are the Lord of this Dungeon, and unfortunately for you, your house has just been broken into. Even more unfortunately for you, you know exactly who did it. When you step through your front door, everything is unsettlingly clean. You wonder why in the world the man following you for your entire life would take the time to tidy your house if he's here to psychologically torture you. And then a thought hits you like a punch to the gut, and you rush upstairs, and you see all of your diaries taken out of their hiding spots. And you know that if they took a look through them they would find roughly 200 pages of glittery pink gel pen writing out repeatedly,

✨ This motherfucker again ✨

#i know i said in the tags of my last post that i didn't necessarily think Thistle and Laios had a gay thing #BUT i have decided exactly now that i am going to rarepair ship them exclusively because their dynamic is very fucked up and extremely funn #dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #laios touden #laios dungeon meshi #thistle dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon spoilers #dungeon meshi spoilers #death tw #death trigger warning

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m4tthewmurd0ck · 4 months

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THE MORNING SKY

— (Young) Coriolanus Snow x Fem!Reader

CHAPTER ── 1 [ THE REAPING / THE SPARK ]

PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER | TABLE OF CONTENTS

a/n: first chapter is finally here! i don’t use y/n and try my best to avoid descriptors, but i do use she/her. also reader had a twin brother who passed away.

ALSO just a quick thing about those asking to be tagged but i can’t tag you. so far everyone that i can’t tag is either a blank blog with no profile pic, or even if they have a profile pic there are either 0 things on your page or there are only reblogs. if any of those apply to you, tumblr views you as a bot and your account isn’t visible. i can’t even search your user and you pop up, i have to press “go to @ user”. okay first chapter below the cut!

WHAT IS A SOULMATE? The answer to that question depended on 2 things: who you asked, and how old they were. The soulmate process was complicated, and to this day there was still not a single person who fully understood how it all worked. The bond, or “the spark” as it was often called, didn’t happen until at least one half of the pair laid eyes on the other.

Before that, people simply felt no romantic interest towards anyone else. As for the spark itself, it was described as a warm happy feeling. That lasted for a few minutes, and was your bodies way of making sure you knew what was happening. Then even once the warmth went away, there was still that sense of happiness.

But back to the question. To those in the Capital, those who came from wealthy families or whose last name meant something, a soulmate was often no more than a recommendation. If it turned out their soulmate was someone who lived in a poor district or who lived in but worked for the Capital in a lowly position, it was common to sever the bond. When that happened, both halves would feel like something was missing for the rest of their lives. It was described as a sense of longing, a dull ache that all you could do was learn to live with.

Once the severing happened, those in the Capital would simply find another with a severed bond. After all, the goal was still to secure a (wealthy) future.

Because at least one person in the pair has to lay eyes on their other half, some people go nearly their whole lives before meeting their soulmate. Some of them would tell you that this was worse than meeting them early on and having the bond severed.

One of the oldest pair of soulmates in District 12 (your district) was a sweet couple in their late-80’s. Despite being up there in age, they’d been together for less than a decade. Having lived on complete opposite sides of the district, it was just a sad coincidence that they’d gone nearly their whole lives without ever being in the same place at the same time.

And for some, the opposite rings true. There was a 4-year-old boy and a 4-year-old girl who had their spark occur when they move next door to each other. For now they were the best of friends. Romantic feelings would come much, much later.

Some people get really unlucky, and go their entire lives without ever meeting their soulmate. If yours dies before you’ve met, you’d get a worse version of that aching feeling that comes if a bond is severed.

There were often discussions about what the worse situation would be. Not meeting your soulmate until you didn’t have much longer to live, meeting them and they want nothing to do with you, or not ever meeting them and they die before you. One could argue that the answer was all of the above, and that the worse case would also be if a pair were put on opposite sides of a terrible situation: someone from the Capital bonded with a tribute in the Hunger Games.

Wealthy folk liked to place bets on if each year was the year it would finally happen, and those that said this is the year were always wrong. That is, until the 11th Hunger Games.

🐍🎶🐍🎶🐍🎶🐍🎶🐍🎶🐍🎶🐍🎶

You were among the many who had yet to meet your soulmate. Though at only 18, it didn’t bother you yet. You were still eligible to be thrown into the games, and you figured you had much bigger things to worry about. Perhaps it was a blessing in disguise that you’d yet to meet whoever they were. It wouldn’t be fair to them if you met and then your name was drawn, and you were killed. Though the alternative to that would be that you’d die before at least meeting. And based on stories you’ve heard from those who were put in that situation, that caused just as much (if not more) heartbreak.

“Just one more year,” you whispered to yourself. You could only hope that you at least looked braver than you felt.

It was the morning of the reaping for the 11th Hunger Games, and you were doing your best to look good. It was no secret that the Capital paid close attention to appearances, even from those not selected to compete. And it was also no secret that Mayor Lipp’s other daughter absolutely hated your guts, so you already had a sinking feeling what was going to happen. (a/n: pretend your outfit / hair is whatever you’d like!)

After a few more minutes fixing your outfit and hair in front of the mirror, you finished up just as a series of knocks could be heard at the door.

“Ready?” Archer greets you with a grim smile. When he takes a closer look at you, he raises his eyebrows. “What’s the occasion?”

Under any other circumstance, you might’ve laughed. But you both knew what the occasion was, and that he was only attempting to lighten the mood.

“Juniper Lipp, that’s the occasion.”

“Hey—”

You shook your head. “No point in trying to paint a different picture. We all know what Mayfair did. She had Mayor Lipp call out Lucy Gray for last year’s reaping, all because of Billy. She admitted as much. Now Billy, Lucy Gray, and Mayfair are gone. Juniper knows that Lucy Gray and I were friends. Add to that the fact that Juniper’s supposed boyfriend tried to kiss me, twice. After I shoved him the second time, he started going around telling people that I came on to him and that he had to tell me to back off. You and I both know what’s going to happen today.”

Deep down, Archer knew there was no point in arguing. Juniper Lipp was just as bad, if not worse than her sister was. From the moment Mayfair had it out for Lucy Gray, Juniper took an instant disliking to you. Combined with the incident with Juniper’s boyfriend, at this point no one your age would put it past her to make sure today was a repeat of last year.

After a tense moment of silence, you speak up again. “I know this is going to be the last time I—”

Archer cut you off with a quick shake of his head. “No. Don’t talk like that. You and I are gonna walk over together, and it’ll be the last reaping that we’re eligible for. That’s that. This time next year, these thoughts will be gone.”

One of the things you loved about Archer was his optimism. You’d known him practically your whole life. You met in 1st grade, and he quickly became friends with your twin brother. Then when he died, Archer stuck around. He said it was to make sure you were okay.

Anxiety began to creep in. The light at the end of the tunnel was so close, but you were almost positive you wouldn’t reach it.

“I almost made it.” You laugh, but there is no humor in your tone. “We’re finally eighteen. You said it yourself, after this we would be done. I would’ve been free. Got all the way to the end and today I’m getting picked and that’s means I’m going to d—”

“No,” Archer used your full name, so you knew he was serious. “You’re gonna shut up and listen to me for a minute. You are the strongest, bravest person I have ever met. You are a fighter. And stop looking at me like this is goodbye because even if it does happen today, I know you can win.”

“Archer—”

In lieu of a response, he shook his head again and held his arm out for you to take. “Shall we?”

Less than 10 minutes later, he gave you a hug and went to go stand with the rest of the boys.

Right on schedule, Mayor Lipp came out and gave the same boring speech about the games that he gave every year. After talking about how it was a great honor to compete, he had the audacity to say that although it was a sacrifice, it’s as ultimately a privilege to serve your district in this way. Hearing that last part, you had to use all of your mental strength to keep yourself from laughing.

What the fuck does he know about sacrifice? You thought to yourself. Looking at those around you, you guessed they were thinking the same thing. In fact, you’d bet everything you owned that Mayor Lipp’s daughter(s) names were conveniently not in that bowl of potential tributes.

“And now,” Mayor Lipp finally pulled you from your thoughts, “we’ll begin with finding out who this years female tribute will be.” He made a big show of putting his hand in the bowl and swishing around, which made you tilt your head down so you could roll your eyes. Such a dramatic gesture considering you knew he was going to say your name.

Time felt like it stopped. When you glanced up, it felt like all eyes were on you. Looks like you were right after all.

Although you wanted nothing more than to drop to the ground and cry, you forced yourself to keep your head held high as you made your way to the stage. That’s when you first heard it.

So soft, at first you thought that you might be imagining things. But you’d know that annoying sound anywhere. Juniper Lipp was laughing.

“Oops, I’d say good luck but I wouldn’t mean it,” she whispered as you walked by.

Originally, you intended on ignoring Juniper as best you could. But at the last possible second, she stuck her foot out and caused you to trip and land face-first.

Almost immediately, you felt the blood begin to drip from your nose, and you forced yourself to hold back tears as you picked yourself up. It was a miracle she hadn’t broken your nose.

In a moment of bravery that you’ll later come to say you have no idea where it came from, you wiped some of the blood from your nose with the palm of your hand and turned around, smearing it all over Juniper’s face and clothes.

The reaction from the crowd was a mixture of mostly gasps, but a few quiet cheers here and there. Juniper was clearly disliked by a majority of the youth in District 12.

Juniper stood in the same spot, screaming at the top of her lungs. Once you finally reached the stage, you were greeted with a harsh shove from Mayor Lipp. This caused you to stumble back onto the stage, falling for the second time in just a few minutes. The crowd was stunned into silence. Almost everyone was filled with a terrible sense of deja vu as they recalled the events that took place only last year with Lucy Gray.

When you thought of your friend that you missed dearly, you could practically see Lucy Gray in the audience. You know exactly what she’d tell you. Give ‘em a show.

With Lucy Gray in mind, you waited until Mayor Lipp was escorted (practically dragged) back inside. Once the doors shut, you walked to the front of the stage and stood near the microphone. The crowd quickly fell silent, assuming you were going to speak. But instead, you bowed, and when you stood straight, held both middle fingers high.

All of a sudden, you felt it. That warm, happy feeling. Your eyes scanned the crowd, wondering if this was really the fucking moment you were going to meet your soulmate. Did the universe actually hate you that much? The feeling could’ve very well been nerves. But you weren’t stupid. You knew exactly what was happening. Though try as you might, by the time the warmth faded and you were just left with that happy feeling, you couldn’t see anyone who was having the same reaction. And once the warmth was gone, your anxiety was quick to overpower anything good that you felt.

Unbeknownst to you, a certain blonde hair, blue eyed boy sat back in his seat as he did his best to subtly look around at his classmates. None of them were looking around like he was, and it took him a minute to work out what happened.

As panic began to set in for him, he only hoped that none of the people in the room could tell what was going on.

The sad truth was that neither of you could focus on the major event that just took place. He, for example, had to already think ahead as a mentor. From his perspective, he knew that if any of his fellow mentors figured out what you were to him, they’d encourage their tributes to kill you first simply out of spite. No one forgot the water bottle stunt he pulled to save Lucy Gray last year.

And now more than ever, Coriolanus Snow couldn’t let that happen. It nearly killed him to lose Lucy Gray in the final moments of last years games. Add on to the fact that he now knew you were his soulmate, the stakes just became so much higher.

Coriolanus didn’t think either of you could handle any other outcome. No matter what it took, you would have to win this years games.

i promise you meet coryo next chapter!!! just had to get these parts out of the way.

TAGLIST — (if you requested to be added to the taglist, check the table of contents (linked above). if your user is in bold and / or not tagged it means I wasn’t able to tag you. everyone that hasn’t been able to be tagged so far is either 1. a blank account with no profile pic and nothing on their page, 2. no profile pic and only reblogs, 3. they have a profile pic but only reblogs. any combination of these means tumblr viewers you as a bot and your page isn’t visible. those in bold I couldn’t search and they just popped up. I had to press “go to @ user”.)

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monsterblogging · 15 days

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So, it finally clicked that while the average person does in fact broadly comprehend that people are neither good nor evil - they're good and bad, and have free will - they also can't understand why some people would fully commit themselves to completely awful causes or to being a terrible person throughout their entire lives. They can't really picture how this works, because they can't imagine themselves choosing to die on a hill of Being A Terrible Person.

This void in their comprehension is where the myth of the Ontologically Evil Person is very likely to come and settle in sooner or later, because it seems to finally provide an answer that makes sense of otherwise senseless cruelty and violence. Agonizing questions like "Why would my boyfriend spend so much energy on making me feel like shit and breaking me down?" "Why would this historical figure decided to kill all of these people?" and "Why would this guy go start a cult and murder everyone?" are finally given an answer, and the formerly-bewildered person finally has some peace of mind.

Because of this, the myth of the Ontologically Evil Person is incredibly hard to get out of people's minds once it takes root. For one thing, bad ideas are like bad habits; it doesn't really work to tell people to Just Stop With Them, because without something else to take its place? They're going to fall back on it.

And if somebody's been traumatized from abuse? The last thing they want to hear is that they're basically dehumanizing their abuser and that's not cool, because it feels to them like the other person is taking their abuser's side and telling them to get fucked. Even if this not what's happening, the survivor's brain is currently operating on fight/flight/fawn/freeze mode, and a brain operating fight/flight/freeze/fawn mode is keyed to making snap decisions to try and remove you from the danger as soon as possible, which means categorizing everything into black and white. This person couldn't care less about the history of eugenics right now; literally all they care about is being safe.

"Okay, so if the Ontologically Evil Person doesn't exist, how the hell do you explain those fuckers over there?" some of you are probably asking.

Here's the deal. Literally every human being alive can and will do terrible things if they're sufficiently scared and desperate. They're in no position to appreciate that nearly all asshole behavior can be explained by a lack of critical social and self-management skills, or by a lack of access to self-improvement (including being too traumatized to trust means of self-improvement).

People who are scared, insecure, and under high levels of stress will often cling to anything that makes them feel better, because they want to feel safe and secure and not in psychological and/or physical agony. (Stress does an absolute number on your body, too.)

Being reliant on a shitty behavior, belief system, or product for some measure of feeling secure and safe is how you get people saying things like "If I didn't act mean, everyone would just walk all over me!" or "I was really depressed before I found this, so if I gave it up I'm going to get depressed again, and I might hurt myself." (And there might be some truth to this one! This might indeed happen if they give it up cold turkey, and without finding an alternative!) It's how you get people conducting """scientific""" studies to """prove""" that their bigotry is totally justified and not at all irrational. ("Well of course these people are genetically inferior, they wouldn't be poor and disease-ridden if they weren't... what do you mean, systemic inequality and uneven healthcare access? No that's obviously fake and made up by More Bad People.")

People also act in unhealthy ways to deal with personal insecurities implanted by parents or society. You have people out there whose parents drummed it into their heads that second place was for worthless losers, or that no one would love them if they didn't look or act a certain way. You have people who absorbed the idea that acknowledging the basic humanity of shitty people means that they have to forgive them and personally help them get better and just suffer through the abuse in the meantime.

This is how people choose to die on the hill of Being A Terrible Person. They weren't ontologically evil. They were scared, and they thought they saw a fortress on the top of that hill that would keep them (and perhaps also their loved ones) safe.

#evil #morality #people #shitty people #abuse #radicalization

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nishithedevil · 5 months

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Alright hi, this is my first time actually publishing a fanfic on here. Hope you guys like it. Tell me if you guys want a part 2 of this or any other ideas i should write

Capital Prince and District Princess

Lucy Gray x capital gn reader

part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5

so basically Corio gets Jessup Diggs and the reader gets Lucy Gray as their tribute. I've been sitting on this idea ever since i saw the movie on the premier, and ig here we are finally.

My brother, Corio and I sit down next to each other as the professor starts assigning student mentors to their district tributes.

"I hate this, Corio. This feels unbearable." I whisper to him as he nudges his my knee with his for a bit of silent comfort.

As the professor reaches district 11 without uttering my name, a breath of relief almost escapes me. However, the respite is short-lived when he announces Corio's name for the boy from district 12, and then...

"And last but not least, Y/N Snow will mentor Lucy Gray Baird from district 12. That is all"

At that moment I freeze and looked up at the tiny screen, seeing Lucy Gray Baird slowly walk up to the stage. Her decision to place a snake in that girl's dress caught everyone off guard, and I abruptly rose from my seat in astonishment. She was definitively one hell of a performer, singing and bowing dramatically before being taken away. A hushed stillness enveloped the entire room. What had they entangled me in?

The professor folds the paper up, removes his glasses and goes to leave the room, muttering good luck to us. After him, I bolted out of the room and settled on the stairs outside. Corio follows, approaching quietly, and places a comforting hand on my back.

"I'm sorry Y/N, I didn't know they would pick you as a mentor to one of the tributes. I mean at least our tributes are both from the same district, that could be fun" he remarks, giving my back a reassuring pat before rising to his feet.

"C'mon, grandma's probably prepared dinner for us" he urges, descending the stairs at a leisurely pace. I hesitate for a moment, then quickly stand up to follow him, concerned he might leave me alone even for a brief moment.

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

Uncertain of what course to take, I opt to go and welcome my tribute. I dress myself in a tasteful yet not overly extravagant manner, even securing a rose. It might seem foolish given the circumstances, but the anxiety is too overwhelming to do otherwise.

I arrive at the train station and wait with the peacekeepers. A few minutes after later the train arrived and the peacekeepers opened the train doors one by one, even taking some tributes by force when they didn't want to come out. All of them who weren't too distracted with that were glowering at me, like they were ready to jump me. I patiently looked around for my tribute, and right when I turned around I saw Corio's tribute step out of the train and extend his hand. A tiny hand grabbed it and out came Lucy Gray. She silently thanked him and straightened her very colorful dress before glancing around. Her eyes landed on me and I stiffened, not knowing what to do. She approached, studying me with a slight tilt of her head. For some inexplicable reason, I found that gesture to be rather adorable.

I composed myself, clearing my throat before speaking. "Um, hi. Hello, I'm Y/N Snow. I'm your mentor, Lucy Gray Baird." I manage to say. Extending my hand, to present her with the rose.

"Uhm, this is for you, as a warm welcome to the capital. Despite the circumstances." I nervously rub my hand against my neck.

She maintains her gaze on me, then unexpectedly seizes my wrist, drawing me closer.

Before I could say anything, she finally speaks "Are you supposed to be here? Since I don't see any other mentors here" She asks as she lets go of my wrist and takes the flower, putting it in her hair.

A warmth rushes to my face, much to my frustration.

"Uh no, I suppose not. But I wanted to meet you formally and introduce myself. I want to get to you know more, that's all" I explain, clearing my throat once again, the warmth lingering despite the station's breeze.

By this point Lucy Gray has been standing pretty close to me, close enough that if I took one step closer we'd be basically hugging. She wasn't very tall, just below my chin, which meant something considering I'm not particularly tall either. Up close, I noticed the softness of her skin and observed that, despite the initial appearance of messiness, her hair was neatly taken care of. The scent of flowers, a mix of vanilla and floral notes, wafted from her.

She sizes me up with a thoughtful hum before a Peacekeeper abruptly grabs both her and Corio's tribute, escorting them forcefully towards a waiting van. Despite my protests, my cries fell on deaf ears. In a somewhat foolish move, I decide to follow them, uncertain of any better course of action.

I wait for the peacekeepers to turn their back and I slip inside the van right before they close the doors. I breathe out, desperately trying to calm down. When I do I turn around and see all the tributes looking at me. We stare at each other before a few of them sit up and fling themselves at me. I'm forcefully slammed against the van wall, feeling the oppressive weight of an arm on my neck. Meanwhile, another produces a knife from some hidden pocket, escalating and leaving me in a state of heightened vulnerability.

I struggle until I hear a voice speak up from beside me. "Stop rough-housin' my mentor. It's not their fault they're better than your mentors and came to greet me"

Our eyes shift to her and then back to each other, a moment of shared uncertainty. Eventually, they release their grip on me, and I instinctively crouch down, rubbing my neck and wheezing as I breath out a breathy thank you. Lucy Gray only pats my back in a comforting gesture as the tense situation begins to ease.

Abruptly, the van comes to a halt, prompting us to exchange glances. The door swings open, and the van tilts, causing everyone to tumble. I desperately grasp for something to hold onto, with Lucy Gray attempting to secure my foot, but our efforts prove futile. We all land on the grass, and fortunately, my fall is somewhat cushioned. I groan and begin to lift myself off, when I open my eyes and see that I'm on top of Lucy Gray. I blush furiously as I realize the position we're in.

I hear her groan and watch as she attempts to sit up, successfully doing so, freezing me in place. As she opens her eyes, a realization sets in – our noses are barely touching. We're so close that I can feel her breath on my lips. My face flushes with embarrassment, and she smirks at the proximity before smoothly sliding away and standing up. Patting her dress to rid it of as much dirt as possible, she extends her hand for me to stand up. Reluctantly, I look up at her, then to the side, and begrudgingly take her hand to stand up, patting myself down as well.

While fixing my hair, I glance around and suddenly recognize our surroundings. We're in a zoo cage. Further away, a reporter and two cameras are set up, with a small crowd of spectators observing us. The realization of being on display in such an unusual setting adds another layer of bewilderment to the already strange situation. It hurt my heart, how they treat these people as actual animals just for being less fortunate. Considering my family, I'm used to this kinds of stuff and know my way around these reporters, so I turn to Lucy Gray.

"Listen, I want to help you win this, and after the stunt you pulled in the districts, everyone wants to hear you sing. I don't want to force you, but the more the public likes you, the more sponsors you'd get. And the more sponsors you have, the more chances you have at winning." I turn to look at her, and she wears a cute expression, biting her lower lip as she contemplates the situation for a few seconds. After some thought, she reaches a conclusion. Without hesitation, she grabs my hand and says, "Let's give them a show, then."

I smile and walk up to the reporters with Lucy Gray in hand. "Oh and what's this? Is this one of our student mentors? with their tribute? And what pray tell are they doing inside with the tributes?"

The cameras turn towards us, the reporter pointing the microphone towards us.

With confidence, I step forward and declare, "My name is Y/N Snow. This is my tribute, Lucy Gray Baird, the songbird from District 12. I pledge to do everything in my power to ensure her victory."

"Ooh, very enthusiastic, even after the stunt she pulled in her district." He says before being interrupted by me.

"Hey kids, come here, come and hear Lucy Gray's singing." I wave over the few kids around the cage.

They rush over, and Lucy, catching my glance, crouches down and begins to sing to them. The cameras focus on her, and the reporter adjusts the microphone, making a comment that I can't quite catch. The impromptu performance captures the attention of the onlookers and the media, turning the unexpected situation into a unique and captivating display.

Hearing her voice in person was even more magical, and it was so beautiful, so delicate. I was mesmerized.

Reality snaps back as Lucy stops singing, and the reporter directs the peacekeepers to remove me. Before they escort me away, Lucy Gray grips my arms, pleading with me to bring her food the next time I return. A smile creeps across my face, reassured by the trust she places in me. She desperately clings to me, whispering those pleas, and I lean in, whispering, "Don't you worry about anything, Lucy Gray." The peacekeepers then lift me away, but my gaze remains fixed on her. In that moment, a determination sets in as I begin to formulate a plan to genuinely help her win and navigate through this chaotic ordeal.

#lucy gray baird x reader #lucy gray x reader #x reader #reader #gn reader #coriolanus snow #the hunger games #the hunger games ballad of songbirds and snakes #the hunger games x reader

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bunnliix · 1 month

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The Invisible Strings that Bind Us - Chapter Three

The angst has arrived! It's not as bad as it will be later on, but it's definitely angsty. Also, I'm adding in my own details to flesh out y/n some more, but I'm trying to keep her as neutral as possible, I promise. I have about 6 chapters pre-written, but after that, the chapters will come at whatever pace I'm able to write at.

Masterlist

word count: 3.4k

warnings: ANGST, fighting, yelling, people are angry, mentions of anxiety and panic attacks, but no actual details are provided, Minho being a lil shit, I think that's it

Chan ushers everyone into the room, guiding Y/n over to a chair and pulling it out for her, only sitting down once everyone else had. The two youngest and Hyunjin sat over on the left side of Chan, who sat to the right of Y/n, while Minho sat on her other side, and Han, Changbin, and Seungmin on his other side. Across from them, sat the managers for Stray Kids, and some of the higher ups in the company. As soon as all nine of them had walked in, all eyes in the room were locked on the newcomer, and this was why Chan had kept her between himself and Minho.

Chan breaks the silence in the room, leaning forward towards the staff members.

“This is Y/n, our last soulmate. We’ve confirmed this fact, and there is no way that she isn’t our soulmate. This meeting is just to inform you all about this, so that we’re all on the same page. We’d also like to have a bigger place, and one apartment instead of two separate ones, as we are now a bigger group, and we want to be closer, and not have to be split up.“

Chan spoke for the entire group, as he was the best suited to clearly get across their needs, and the group was on the same page, so no one needed to add onto anything he said. However, the staff didn’t have the same reaction.

“And how have you confirmed that she’s your last soulmate? She could be a sasaeng for all we know, and that she’s fooled all of you. And frankly, this is bad for your reputation and popularity if this gets out. She could ruin you all, you realize that?” One of the higher ups interrupted Chan, looking upset at this news.

“You don’t need to know how we confirmed it, but she’s here now and she’s ours. We all know she’s our last soulmate, and that’s all we care about. She’s moving here to Seoul to be with us, and she’s a part of our lives, as idols and outside of that. We expect that she’ll go with us where she can, and that will be that.” Chan replied curtly, anger filling his voice as he continued talking. “She’ll need security, and if the company won’t provide any, then we will independently find security for her. This meeting is simply to inform you of all of these facts, it was never meant to be a discussion.” He finished.

Chan was visibly upset, fists clenched and his body tense. The anger rolled off him in rage, he couldn’t believe that they would say that. That they’d really believe that he and the boys would be fooled by someone. Changbin laid a hand on Chan’s shoulder, also visibly upset, and trying to reign in his own emotions. Everyone was in varied states of anger, while Y/n was trying to make herself appear smaller, worrying that her presence may hurt the group.

“I’m happy for you all, that you’ve found your last soulmate,” their main manager spoke up, “Though I worry what this will mean, if your fans find out. You know how vicious they can be.” He said.

He wasn’t wrong, but it hurt to hear that from their manager, that they’re close to, that even he thought that their soulmate could bring ruin to their group. Minho pulled Y/n and Han close, feeling the anxiety they were both starting to experience.

“If our fans are truly fans, then they’ll be happy for us that we’ve found our last soulmate. If people get upset about it, then they were never true fans.” Changbin piped up, defending Chan and the group.

The boys all voiced their agreement while Minho just stared down the staff members, anger clear in his eyes. It very quickly turned into an argument between the boys and the staff, words flying across the table, and it seemed as if Changbin was ready to leap across the table, judging by his expression. Y/n and Han both leaned closer to Minho, feeling very uncomfortable amongst all the yelling and loud voices. He held the two of them close, bringing an arm around each of their shoulders.

“I WILL NEVER SEND MY SOULMATE AWAY, NO MATTER WHAT YOU MAY WANT. SHE’S OURS AND YOU’D HAVE TO KILL ME FIRST IF YOU EVER THOUGHT ABOUT TRYING TO GET RID OF HER!” Chan roared, having stood up and slammed his hands on the table out of his fury. His eyes were burning with anger, and he looked one more word away from strangling the staff members where they sat.

The others were equally as mad, also having stood up when Chan did, ready to defend their soulmates and their group. Minho was done with all of this, standing up and grabbing the hands of Y/n and Han, dragging the two of them out of the room with him. The boys watched as the three of them left, Chan glad that Minho did so, but also worried for his soulmates.

“We’re done here, I’ve just informed you of what you needed to know, so we’re leaving now.” He tells them, before looking at their manager. “I’ll be talking with you later, manager-nim.” He told the man, as he gathered everyone out of their seats and they all left the room, leaving the staff and higher ups by themselves.

The remaining boys followed Chan as they made their way down the halls to the elevator, on a mission to find where their three soulmates had disappeared to. Everyone’s phone’s go off, and Felix checks it to see that Minho was telling them to meet in the lobby. The second eldest was taking Han and Y/n home, and no one was going to stop him. They rushed down to the lobby, finding the three of them on seats in the corner of the lobby, Y/n now wearing Minho’s jacket, almost drowning in it. Felix rushed over, sitting down next to Y/n and wrapping his arms around her.

“We’re taking you home, soulmate. I’ll tell you this every time you need to hear it, but nothing of what those people said is true. They’re looking out for their own interests, not ours. We want you here, you will not ruin anything, nor will you being our soulmate hurt us or Stray Kids.” Felix whispered to her.

Meanwhile, Chan had already called cars to come pick them up and drive them back to the dorms, telling them to be quick. Thankfully, the drivers quickly showed up, and Chan ushered them all into the cars, sending Changbin and Hyunjin with the two youngest, as he stayed with the sunshine triplets and Minho. Felix clung to Y/n the entire ride home, not letting her out of his hold. The car ride felt like it took forever to arrive at their apartments, but as soon as they did, Minho was pulling Han out of the car, before reaching back to pull Y/n out as well, pulling the two behind him as he walked inside and to the elevator. The boys ran to catch up, arriving just as the elevator doors opened, everyone filing in.

It didn’t take long for the elevator to reach their floor, and they were pushing each other to get out of the elevator. Minho took his two to his dorm, Felix pushing ahead to open the door for them.

The members stopped to take off their shoes, Han helping Y/n take off hers as Minho gave her slippers to put on. The duo of them, followed by Felix, lead Y/n into the living room, Han sitting down on the couch and pulling her down next to him. He wrapped an arm around her waist, keeping her close and nodding at his soulmate, who left them there as he left to the kitchen. Felix sat down on the other side of Y/n, reaching out for her hand, lacing their fingers together.

“Jagiya is getting us snacks, okay?” Han said to Y/n, getting a nod in response.

Y/n had withdrawn into herself since they left that room, neither Han or Minho being able to get more than a couple words out of her at a time. She hadn’t seemed to spiral or have any anxiety or panic attacks. They were grateful for that, since they weren’t sure what they would do if she had a panic attack. The two sunshine twins just sat with her, keeping her company as cat man Minho prepared snacks and drinks for everyone.

The other five boys came into the room, everyone having separated to change or drop their things off in their rooms, and Hyunjin moved to sit on the floor in front of Felix, while the others sat down in various parts of the living room. Chan turned to look over at the three on the couch, getting shrugs from the boys, and a small smile from Y/n.

“You doing okay, Y/nnie?” Chan asked, adding the nickname in hopes of getting a verbal response.

“I’m okay, promise.” She replied, looking at him, using her free hand to gesture at him to come closer. She wanted him close, he provided her with so much comfort, even when she was just a Stay.

Chan moved closer, and she reached out for his hand, which he grabbed and held. “I’m here, it’s okay. You’re ours now, and we’ll protect you and keep you safe. I’ll protect you and keep you safe, okay?” He said, looking up at her.

She nodded, looking down at him with so much love in her eyes. She may not know if she was in love with him or any of them, but she knew that she loved them in some form, and she trusted them to protect her, and she just trusted them in general. She knew that they’d do what they could to keep her safe. She tried to convey all of that to him without words, because she didn’t think she could put this into words.

Chan could see that, and he couldn’t hold back his smile, squeezing her hand, trying to tell her that he understood. He loved his kids, in many many ways, and he knew he’d grow to love her in those same ways given time. He moved to lay his head in her lap, still looking up at her. She pulled her hand away, only to use it to run her fingers through his hair, and he melted like butter.

The others cooed at him, happy to see their leader and soulmate relax like this. He worked himself half to death, so maybe their newest soulmate could change that, if this is what something little like this could do. Minho heard the coos, and having just finished putting together snacks and drinks for everyone, came out to see Chan and Y/n, smiling at how at ease Chan looked.

“Drinks and food, come get it.” He announced, catching the attention of everyone in the room. He laid the food on the table, but picked up a couple drinks and some snacks for Y/n, Han and himself. He moved to sit down on the couch, replacing Felix’s place next to their smallest soulmate, the sunshine boy, who had gotten up to grab some food for himself.

He sat back on the couch, happy to watch everyone else in the room and just observe. He was content, just to have all eight of his soulmates in one room, and to see all of them happy. That’s what made him happy, and he couldn’t wait until Y/n was here permanently, and when they’d all be in one apartment again, and they’d have so much fun. They could show their smallest soulmate the places here they loved, introduce her to their friends, have someone to come home to every day, there was so much to be excited for. Minho knew that every one of them couldn’t be happier than they’ve been today, to finally feel complete now that they have their last piece here with them.

“So, what are we gonna do now?” Jeongin spoke up, drawing everyone’s attention.

“We could watch a movie?” Hyunjin advised, his sentence finishing on a questioning note.

“A movie is fine with me, but I’m not sure I’ll pay attention.” Y/n said, still carding her fingers through Chan’s hair, the older man putty in her hands.

Murmurs of agreement came from the boys, and it was quickly decided to put on a children's movie that didn’t need to worry about the language barrier, and everyone knew it probably was on for background noise more so than to actually watch it.

“Oh wait, Y/n, we never asked how old you were. So, when’s your birthday? And how old are you?” Changbin asked her.

“I’m a 2000 baby, so I’m the same age as half of you, but my birthday is September 14th. So yes, Han, I share a birthday with you.” She said, looking over at Han while she said the second sentence. Her birthday twin looked shocked, but then quickly pulled her into a tight hug.

“Oh my gosh, my soulmate is my birthday twin!!” Han screams out, causing Y/n to pull her hands up to her ears.

“Could you be any louder Han Jisung?” Chan and Y/n said at the same time.

“Oh! I’m so sorry Y/nnie! I didn’t mean to hurt you! Please forgive me.” He apologized, looking at you with doe eyes.

“I forgive you, but please never do that next to my ears again.” She told him, before impulsively leaning in to kiss his cheek.

Han’s face turned as red as a tomato, not expecting Y/n to kiss him, and the rest of the boys were as shocked as he was, bits of jealousy sprouting in more than a couple of them. Y/n pulled back, her face showing just how flustered she was as well, as she went to hide her face in the couch behind her. They boys all cooed at her, finding her embarrassment adorable.

“Shush!” She shouted at them, but the word and sound was muffled by the couch she was hiding in.

All that happened was them laughing at her and cooing how cute she was. She pouted, and refused to turn to look at them. Minho smirked, and reached out to grab her sides, tickling her, as she screamed and yelled for him to stop. He refused to stop and she eventually moved back towards him, in an attempt to get him to stop. He used this as an opportunity to pull her closer and into his lap. She froze up as she felt him do this, and he chuckled at her actions.

“Jagiya, why did you freeze?” He whispered, leaning down close to her ear.

“You try getting pulled into someone’s lap unexpectedly. I bet you’d react the same.” She whisper-shouted at him.

“Adorable, 토끼.” He said, chuckling in her ear, making her shiver and pull away, moving out of his lap and turning around.

“No. No, bad cat man.” She said, pointing at him.

He just raised an eyebrow at her, and she pulled her hands up and curled them into fists, joking that she’d fight him. He leaned back on his hands, showing no fear, knowing she wouldn’t do it. She’s too cute to try anything.

“Okay, no fighting. Y/n, hands down, now. Minho, let’s not kill our soulmate, yeah?” Chan stepped in, scolding both of them.

Y/n folded her arms across her chest, mumbling, “He started it, the lil fucker.”

Han overheard it, causing him to laugh, which made everyone look at him. “You better not let Jagi hear you say that about him. You’d be in for it then baby.” He said between laughs, not being able to keep a straight face.

Y/n slapped his arm, pouting. “You shut up.” She told him, unhappy with his reaction. He laughed at how embarrassed she was at being overheard. She pouted, getting up off the couch, and out of the living room going down one of the hallways. Chan stood up and went after her. The boys waited in the living room, only to hear a shout of Chan’s name, and their curiosity peaked.

A minute later, he walked back in with Y/n laying over his shoulder. She smacked his ass, telling him to put her down. He chuckled and dropped her back into Minho’s lap.

“There you go.” He said, smiling that smug smile at her, as Minho’s arms wrapped around her waist, locking in her against him. She tried to get out, but his grip was too tight, not letting her go.

“Yah, Minho, let me go!” She told him, only to receive a smirk and a head shake in response.

“So cute, our adorable soulmate.” Changbin teased her, giggling.

She crossed her arms and pouted once again. Why must her soulmates be like this, she wasn’t prepared for this. What was in the drinks Minho gave everyone? There had to be something, with how they’re acting. Lino leaned his head on her shoulder, giggling like a smug lil fucker.

“Why are you so insistent on getting away from me, hmm jagi?” He asked, in a tone a voice that told everyone that he wouldn’t be taking anything except the truth.

“Because you’re being a lil shit.” Y/n deadpanned, done with him by this point.

“Awww jagi, you love me like that.” Minho said, causing the others to look at him, this was the Minho that they saw with Han, the teasy one who was ready to make the other person into a flustered mess.

“Minho, chill out.” Chan barked at him, knowing that he was crossing the line, when it came to their new soulmate, and he wasn’t going to let him go any farther. He didn't think this would be what happened when he left Y/n in the arms of his cat-like soulmate.

“Fine.” Minho replied, loosening his grip on Y/n as well. She used this opportunity to move over to Seungmin, who looked surprised.

“I’m staying with you, you haven’t been bad yet today.” She said, looking at him.

He laughed, smugly smirking at the other men. “Okay, that’s fine with me. We could even go to my room to get away from them, if you really wanted to.” He told her.

“Hmmm, that wouldn’t be a bad idea.”

“YAH, Seungmin-ah, no stealing our soulmate away for yourself.” Han inserted himself into the conversation, Felix, Hyunjin and Changbin backed him up.

While the five of them were occupied, Minho found a way over there, grabbing Y/n’s hand and stealing her away. He wasn’t completely unnoticed, Chan was watching all of this and quickly followed behind, leaving the six boys in the living room. Minho led her to his bedroom, but before he was able to close his door, Chan pushed the door back open.

“What do you think you’re doing, Minho?” Chan asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m just taking our y/nnie somewhere quieter. Right, jagi?” He answered Chan, directing the last sentence towards their younger soulmate.

The answer they received from her was a yawn, y/n covering her mouth in the process. The two boys cooed at her, smiling at her.

“I think it’s time for you to rest.” Chan said to her, as Minho directed her to his bed. The eldest of the two sat down next to y/n on the bed, as Minho searched his closet for clothes she could change into. He found a long oversized top for her to wear, and a pair of shorts.

“We’ll leave so you can get dressed.” Chan said, as he got off the bed and moved to the door along with Minho. Y/n quickly changed, and hopped back onto the bed as she called out for the two to reenter the room. They reentered, smiling at her as she sat on Lino’s bed. The younger of the two men came over and pulled her off the bed, so that he was able to pull the covers back for her. She crawled underneath his sheets, the man covering her back up again after she was laid in bed.

“We’ll leave you to get some sleep.” Chan said as he moved to the top of the bed, ruffling y/n’s hair before he grabbed Minho and dragged him out of the man’s bedroom.

Y/n turned over on her side, closing her eyes as she heard the noise in the apartment die down. It didn’t take long before sleep claimed her, her dreams filled with the men who were now her soulmates, and everything they’d get to do together.

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Taglist: @queen-thiccness

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short-honey-badger · 2 months

Text

Phantom Pain 10

Hey loves. I'm back with part 10! I hope you enjoy a bit of gambling and possessive Shanks. ❤️

Masterlist

The bar is full of patrons, sweet smelling smoke curls in the air, and you have to fight the sneer that wants to play on your lips. This definitely isn't your scene, but Shanks had wanted to play cards and had given you big puppy dog eyes when he'd asked if you would come with him. You could feel how excited he was to play his little card game, but you couldn't help but feel a bit of trepidation. This place was full of men and women who looked like they would rather eat you than greet you.

You are stuck between Shanks and Benn, the older man acting as a buffer and keeping you away from the other gamblers inside the shoddy casino bar. You are grateful for it.

“I won't let anything happen to you, baby. Don't ya trust me?” Shanks crooned. Your side of the bond is lashing like an angry eel, full of anxiety that Shanks tries to soothe with his own confidence. You take the feeling and wrap yourself in it, shoulders slumping and a bit more relaxed now.

“Course I trust you. I just don't trust anyone else here. Aside from you. Benn.”

The older man huffs, and mutters dryly, “Thanks.”

Shanks snickers and presses a kiss to the top of your head. The three of you look for an empty table and find one close to the back. There are only two seats left, so Benn takes one, and Shanks plops in the other, looking up at you with a grin and patting his lap.

“You don't mind if I keep my good luck charm, do you?” Shanks says, his smile open and friendly, but tone firm and the dealer shrugs, dealing the redhead and Benn in. You ignore the looks you get for that remark, though the man that sits across from you doesn't take his greedy eyes off of you, instead blatantly ogling your bust and any other bit of skin that you have showing.

You pick up the cards, looking down at them and angle your hands to where Shanks could see them. You had no idea what you were doing, having never played this before.

Shanks can feel your rising confusion and tug you close to his chest, arm securely wrapped around your waist. He glares at the miscreant across the table, and you shiver when you feel his lips graze your ear.

“This is BlackJack. We're trying to beat the dealer, and if our cards go over 21, then we bust. The closest to 21 wins the round, and we play until the entire deck is run through.”

You nod. It seemed simple enough. You look at your two cards, finding 8 of hearts and 6 of diamonds staring up at you, and set them back on the table, replicating the way Benn has laid his hand out.

The dealer flips one of his cards, keeping the other laid face down, and you squint to see the 10 of Spades. You jump when Shanks speaks up again.

“Now we think. Do we stay or do hit for another card? An ace can be 1 or 11, but kings, queens, and jacks are labeled at 10. The other cards we take at face value.”

You lick your lips, watching the other people at the table. Benn hits and is dealt another card. He keeps it face down beside his other cards. You look at your cards again. 14. Anything higher than a 7, and it'd be a bust.

Shanks feels you come to your conclusion and speaks up for his soul mate when it's their turn.

“Hit.”

The dealer slides them a card, keeping it face down. Once the rest of the table has made their decision, the dealer flips his face down card, revealing an 8 of diamonds. You follow everyone else's lead and flip your card, frowning when it's an ace of clubs. They'd lost.

“Damn. Deal us back in,” Shanks demands, and soon, the five men and you have been given two face-up cards. You shift in your seat, content to let your soulmate be the one to choose this round.

The hours pass, and the bar begins to become a bit more lively with the falling sun and the flowing drinks. You are pleasantly buzzed, slumped back into Shanks, brow pressed into collarbone. The game has slowly lost your interest after the two of you had continued to lose. A wiry smirk twists your lips. Some lucky charm you were.

The sudden silence of your table and the way Shanks’ end of the bond flashes with a sudden rage, has you blinking the blurriness from your vision and sitting up. You glance at your soulmate and shiver at seeing such a nasty grin on his handsome face. He is staring at the man who couldn't keep his eyes off you, and you have a very bad feeling that the next couple seconds were pivotal for his survival.

“Say that again, I don't think my seastar heard you,” Shanks demands, and his grip on you becomes borderline painful, the hand he has on your thigh tight enough to leave marks behind.

The man sneers at the Emperor, drunk and feeling too confident on his winning streak and bleeding the redhead’s pockets dry. He wanted to win something else. You.

“I said you ain't got anything left in the pot, so maybe you should bet your lucky charm.”

You jerk back, taken aback at the way the man leers at you, and turn your nose up at the bastard when he boldly licks his lips and sends you a wink. You aren't expecting Shanks to grab your chin and angle your face to his, his expression mischievous but tinted with that same anger you can still feel shocking your side of the connection.

“What do you think, baby? You want in?”

You lick your lips. A year ago, you would never have agreed to anything like this, but Shanks and his playfulness must have rubbed off on you.

You turn and glare at the man across the table, your smirk matching your soulmate's, “We're all in.”

Benn snickers and rolls his eyes, already knowing that win or lose, Shanks wouldn't be leaving the island without taking this simpleton's life for his slight against you.

The game begins, and the tension in the air rackets up as the cards are dealt out to each patron. You sit up straight and focus back on the cards that lay in front of you, a king of spades and ten of diamonds. 20. A grin curls your lips, and your eyes flick up to meet the man who looks less than enthused about his hand. He hits, and the dealer slides him his last card.

“Fuck.”

From here, you can see that his cards talley up to 23, and panic floods his eyes when he looks up and catches you and Shanks staring him down. He scrambles from his seat, eager to flee before the redhead could even stand. However, he isn't accounting for the first mate to be right there and slams into Benn.

“You've no idea who we are, do you?” Shanks says from where he still lounges in the chair. You relax and sit back against his chest, wanting to see how this plays out.

The man shakes his head, terrified. There is a thick presence in the air, making it hard for him to breathe, let alone think.

“Well. Let me introduce myself. I'm Shanks, and that's Benn Beckmann, my first mate,” he pulls you close and leans around to kiss your cheek, “And this is my soulmate.”

You can feel how much Shanks is enjoying this, and the wicked satisfaction that flows between the two of you makes you grin.

“You tried to take her away from me, and I can't have some nobody think that they can do that.”

You ignore the way that the man begins to beg, pleading and promising to never be seen again. But none of that matters to Shanks. This vermin had disrespected you, and the Emperor wouldn't stand for it. His hand strokes your thigh, smoothing indecency up your leg to grip your inner thigh, thumb pressed against your clothed heat. He kisses the back of your head, voice idle and playful when he speaks up.

“What should we do with him, Seastar?”

You only have to think for half a second, “Feed him to the Seakings.”

Shanks throws his head back and laughs, then tucks his arm under your ass and stands with you. You toss your arms around his neck and hold on for dear life as Shanks stalks through the bar, the other patrons making way for him all the way to the door. Everyone else knew better to make such a scene and almost felt bad for the sleaze ball that Benn shoved forward, his hand wrapped in the guy's shirt to prevent him from running away.

“You heard the lady. Let's go.”

The rest of the crew meets Shanks and his soulmate back in the Red Force. He has you back in his lap, sitting cross-legged on his deck as the two of you watch Lucky Roux tie the man's hands together. They’ve already sailed out of the cove and sit in deep, seaking infested waters. The man is shaking like a leaf, still spilling pleads and begging for mercy.

They go unheard, and you stand to better watch the man stumble to the edge of the ship to the gangplank. You feel Shanks follow after you, joining you in leaning against the railing.

“Give the order, Baby,” He whispers behind you and you shiver at the tone he uses. He sounds like he is enjoying this, and you know he is.

You look at the bastard who had tried to win you in a game of cards, and gesture at the sea.

“Walk the plank.”

@writingmysanity @djbumblebee @goth-mami-writer @myradiaz @fluffybunnyu @bookandstar @foggyturtleknightangel @browneyedhufflepuff @anastasiyax @jaguarthecat @atricksterwithwings @black-swan-blog27

#one piece #reader insert #fanfic #fluff #phantom pain #red haired shanks #shanks #shanks x y/n #shanks x you #shanks x reader #opla shanks

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justanamesstuff · 5 months

Text

Chapter 1

Seasons

Matty Healy x f!reader

A/N: Hiii guys, I'm so nervous for this BUT very excited too!! I hope you like it <3

Warnings: swearing a bit?, typos maybe.

Word count: 3 K

MASTERLIST TAGLIST

Every season has its colours, has its smells, has its traditions. Like every season, this love has its particularities…

Around November of 2020, England

“Matty- Oh my god!!“

The constant banging on her wall and the high-pitched moaning at the other side woke Y/n up. Quickly, she took her pillow and placed it on top of her face, trying to muffle the horrible sounds reaching her ears. ‘God, is she having a good time? Or he’s killing her?’, the thought crossed the girl's mind.

Most of the time they weren’t that loud, but during that morning they just seemed to not care.

It was useless, the sounds were getting louder and louder. Y/n couldn’t bear with it any more and knowing that even if they –luckily– stopped she wouldn’t come back to sleep. So, Y/n decided to go downstairs. Maybe one of the guys was making breakfast, which would help with the awful start of her day.

Her prayers weren’t heard. The kitchen was empty and no breakfast was made. She tried to cheer up a little, because Y/n needed to survive the day. To be honest, every day and morning it was getting harder and harder.

After a quiet but long sigh, Y/n started cooking for everyone. Nothing unusual since she tried to do it most of the mornings in exchange for their generosity letting her stay at the boys' studio –which was half Matty’s house as well. Spending the quarantine rent-free with them, listening how they recorded the new album and messing around was a true blessing if she tried to focus on the bright side of everything.

Well, they kind of forced her because they were very against Y/n spending those months alone in her flat. The boys cared about the girl as a best friend and as a sister too. They were a bunch of drama queens most of the time, but deep down Y/n was enormously grateful with/for them.

Thinking about the first months, Y/n couldn’t deny those were amazing. The entire group spent a lot of quality time, doing the stupidest challenges, doing Instagram lives for the fans, watching a lot of movies, etc. Although everything took a turn when another person joined the party. When Nadia arrived.

It wasn’t like Y/n hated her, in fact, it was the opposite which created a big dilemma for her. Matty’s girlfriend was nice and the idea of having another girl was actually comforting during the tough times. But Y/n wasn’t so fond of the situation for other reasons.

For a period –a very long one– if you asked her, she endured with it and put on her best –fake– happy face. Y/n’s acting talents were very handy at times. Although, her true feelings were still there, underneath the surface, where no one can notice them. Specially Matty.

Time went by and the whole thing was making her more anxious, and although the idea of leaving crippled into her mind at every minute, she couldn’t really decide. Y/n didn’t want to leave but watching Matty 24/7 attached to the other girl’s side was taking the best of her mental health.

Y/n’s mind was running fast with thoughts while she cooked, which made her subconsciously ignore the tall man coming down after he heard movement downstairs. George watched his friend move around, knowing more than anyone in the house about her sorrows. George was probably the closest to her out of the four guys. He was the only one who knew all of her secrets and kept it secured as if it was his own.

The drummer stared at her, expecting for Y/n to notice him, but he acknowledged that the girl was in another dimension. She used to do that more than she liked to admit. George could bet ‘the morning moaning festival’ taking place half an hour prior was the main reason.

Y/n finished cooking a big amount of scrambled eggs and turned searching for a plate when she saw George standing in the partially lighted corridor. “Fuck G! You scared the shit out of me!” she exclaimed while resting a hand on her chest.

“Sorry!” the big man shrugged his shoulders. “Didn’t mean to scare you, love.” he apologized, approaching his best friend. “Good morning.” he greeted her properly, and she huffed.

“Good morning to you.” Y/n answered sarcastically after G placed a kiss on top of her head.

“So, you heard, huh?”

“I can’t stand it any more, G.” she let him know. “It’s just a lot.” she continued, lowering her voice scared another of the boys could hear her.

“I know, love.” the drummer said with an apologetic expression. “But the lockdown is nearly over, and y’know none of us would like you to go.” G said as he searched for mugs.

“Why not? It’s my life, my freedom!” Y/n protested, starting to get annoyed. “It’s getting worse every day…” Y/n desperately moved her hands in the air trying to prove her point.

“Believe me… I know!” George searched for her eyes, keeping eye contact when Y/n looked back at him, waiting for his next words. “I’m not in your…situation, but I’m getting a little annoyed too.” G agreed with her.

“Yes, but it’s his house. He can do whatever he wants…”

“I half agree.” G nodded. “This might be his house, but it’s the place we choose as a studio, so for the time being its our place too…yours too!” George continued rambling, filling the mugs with hot water. “So, they need to stop with the noises.”

A comfortable silence fell between them until Y/n broke it again thinking out loud.

“What the hell can I do?”

“About what?” A third voice came from the hallway. Matty made his entrance wearing a tired expression matching his gray sweatpants and plain shirt. He approached Y/n, leaving her a kiss on her right cheek. “What can you do about what, love?” he rephrased his question.

“I- It’s nothing — Morning” she said without looking at him, instead walking towards the table bringing a mug with her.

“There must be something. You sounded worried.” Matty insisted.

“It’s something between Y/n and I, mate.” George said in a joking way, trying to distract him. “Something between best pals, you wouldn’t understand it.” he stated, rounding Y/n with his left arm meanwhile he winked at Matty taking a sip of his morning tea.

“Fuck off!” Matty protested. They usually have a competition about the title which Y/n find equally lame and cute. She easily felt the tension leaving her shoulders, relaxing thanks to their stupid discussion, knowing that for now Matty dropped his interrogation.

“Tell him, darling!” G urged her.

“It’s too early for this fight. Shut up and sit. I’ll bring the cutlery.” Y/n said, detaching herself from George.

“Y/n is just too nice to tell ya, mate. She loves me more.” the singer continued joking, obviously unaware of the real implication of his words.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, Matty.” George answered, sitting at his usual spot at the table.

“Who was the beautiful soul that made breakfast?” Ross entered the kitchen and stopped in his tracks, closing his eyes and inhaling dramatically.

“You know the answer.” John teased as he appeared from behind Ross. “You know you don’t have to, Y/n.” the musician approached her and helped with the forks and knives.

“Yes, for the hundred times…I know, John.” she looked at him. “But we all know that I would feel guilty since you all never let me pay for anything.”

“Because you don’t have to pay us, love.” Matty said from his place at the table with his sight fixed on his phone. He and the damn nicknames.

“But- “

“No but’s, Y/n. We’re happy to have you here!” Ross said as they all sat around the table.

They were serving breakfast when the conversation took another direction -something about the coronavirus and all of that. At the same time, the last resident of the house made her entrance.

Y/n sometimes envied her. Matty’s girlfriend always looked immaculate to a point that you could never think she just woke up. Y/n knew comparisons were wrong, but it was hard to avoid them. The girl felt awful: her hair was all tangled in a messy bun on the top of her head; only wearing an old t-shirt -from a not so famous band--and a pair of pyjamas short; and she was not wearing any makeup meanwhile she stuffed her breakfast on her face.

Nadia was all classy and perfect, the opposite of Y/n. Maybe that’s why he chose her and not his best friend. Y/n knew thinking like that was also wrong, yet again she couldn’t help it.

Y/n witnessed how Nadia greeted everyone and sat beside Matty, flashing him a cute smile he returned. They were in love, and it was obvious to everyone. Y/n was so happy for her best friend to find someone who loved him, although for many years she hoped that person would be her. For years, Y/n hoped Matty noticed her more than a mate.

When they first met, Y/n thought she felt a connection different from with anyone else in her life, although that changed quickly. Matty proved to her time and time again he didn’t want a relationship with her or nothing similar no matter how flirty he was during that first night. And Y/n forced herself her mind and heart to believe it.

Y/n was very unaware that, at the time she met the boys, Matty felt the same way she felt, but the old Matty didn’t want to lose the new friend he encountered. As another way to self sabotage himself, the young Matty did almost the impossible to show Y/n they were friends and just friends. A decision he took while being drunk became a life rule.

Since that moment, since that night, their relationship was kind of determinate. They were friends, the best friends. Not that night, but after a while, Y/n became part of the family and even Matty’s family –both sides– loved her as another member of their family. Y/n felt safe and loved, something she cherished so much since she hadn’t had that kind of love back home. Her family wasn’t like them, the opposite in fact.

For the longest time, Y/n tried to ditch her feeling for Matty. Every time a new girl showed up, tugged under his arm, Y/n decided it was the time to stop getting hurt and move on. Even though, her heart couldn’t do it. It hurt her. And with Nadia was the hardest since all of them could notice it was different, more mature…more serious. Nadia was more than a random girl for Matty and everyone was sure of that.

“Penny for your thoughts.” Matty interrupted Y/n’s inner monologue, staring at her, while his right arm was around Nadia.

“What?” Y/n answered, coming down to earth, with a question.

“You were gone.” everyone was strangely in silence while they looked at each other.

“I was just thinking about the government lifting the restrictions. Meaning, now I can go home.” she half lied, while messing with the leftovers of her breakfast. Y/n did chat about it with G that morning anyway, and it was a reality Y/n needed to get away from the lovers for a time.

“I told her, none of us want that.” George interrupted their conversation.

“Of course not.” Jaime, who joined the breakfast table, said to her.

“I know, guys. But it’s been almost four months and I- This is not my- “

“Don’t finish that sentence.” Matty warned her, and she looked him directly in the eyes.

“It’s the truth, Matty.” she said, dropping her fork on the plate.

“It’s not, this is your house too, Y/n/n.” Ross, sweet Ross, reminded her. “At the same time, if you want to go back to your flat, I understand. We’ll miss your meals.” his comment made everyone chucked, except Matty who was studying every one of her movements.

A weak smile was plastered on her face while she stared down towards her plate unable to make eye contact with Matty. “Don’t get me wrong. I love being here with you guys, but I need my space.”

“If this is about some couple…” Jaime looked at Matty and Nadia “Waking up the whole house.” he finished the sentenced winking like a cartoon.

“For fuck's sake.” Matty swore under his breath. “Is it about that?” he looked at Y/n.

“‘Course not!” she looked at him trying her hardest to hide her feelings.

“I wouldn’t blame you if that’s the reason. I’m sleeping on the other side of the house and I can listen to them. You’re right beside Matty’s room!” John emphatically said.

Before Matty could say a word, Y/n exclaimed, “It’s not about that, okay?” she simply lied.

Y/n could sense George staring at her. “It’s what I said, I need my space, and it’s not like I’m going to disappear.” another white lie. Y/n was planning to do exactly that for a while until her wounds healed again. “You’ll still have to bear with me.” she finished her little speech.

��We can simply send the couple to your flat, and you can stay here in peace” Ross joked this time. All of them except for Matty laughed again.

“Stop with that, he will get angry.” Y/n defended Matty.

“I know it’s not my house either,” Nadia started saying. “If I can say something, I would like you to stay, Y/n.” she continued rather shyly. “It’s nice to have a girl around.” Of course, she was so nice. “I promised we’ll keep it down.” she looked quickly at Matty for reassurance and then again at her.

“Yeah, I know. I’m sorry you’ll have to survive with these boys, but I really need to go.” Y/n explained. “Another reason is the fact that I have to prepare to get back to work soon.”

“So, when did you start thinking about leaving? Since you apparently have a lot of reasons to leave.” Matty said with a strange expression on his face.

“Matty-”

“Are you that eager to leave?” ‘He was pissed?’, Y/n thought.

“Matty- “she protested, not knowing what else to say.

“No, it’s okay. I get it! You want to leave, it’s okay.” he stood up from his seat gathering the plates to wash them.

“Matty!” Y/n said again.

“It’s fine, Y/n!” he said more sternly, obviously not fine with the situation.

The rest of the group –included Nadia–, took that as a cue to leave the friends so they could talk. They made stupid excuses, leaving Matty and Y/n alone in the kitchen.

Matty went to the sink, beginning to wash the dishes. After letting a big breath out, Y/n stood up approaching where he was standing.

“Why are you so angry?” she asked him, folding her arms, standing beside Matty looking at his profile. Matty was stroking the plates with more force than needed for the task in hand.

“I’m not. I said that I got it, and it’s fine.” he answered.

“You’re obviously not fine, Matthew.”

“Do you want to know how am I? Perfect.” he stated, turning the water off and drying his hand with a cloth while he turned to look at her. “I really don’t get it why you want to leave so suddenly.”

“It’s not that I want to- “another big lie. She wanted to, she needed to.

“Bullshit!”

Y/n tried to defend herself, “I’m not going to disappear…”

“Bullshit!”

“Can you stop that?” Y/n stood directly in front of Matty.

“I know you’re going to disappear. I know you. We’re best friends and something is bothering you, I can tell. It hurts that you’re not telling me anything and I fucking bet you told George already.” She couldn’t tell him the truth.

“Is this more about that competition?” Y/n tried to distract him.

“Yes- No- Of course, not- This is about you and me.” Matty said, melting her heart a little. He was obviously troubled with the idea of Y/n leaving.

“Matty, there is nothing…mayor going on. Trust me. I need silence. You said it, you know me. I crave my space…alone.” she told him sweeter this time.

“Yes, I know. But you can find somewhere here-“

“You know that’s a lie.” ‘What a hypocrite I am’, Y/n thought.

“I know.”

“You aren’t gonna miss me. You have the boy and Nadia- “she moved uncomfortably in her place.

“It’s not the same, you’re my best friend. I’ll miss you, darling.” Matty looked at her with his best doggy eyes.

“Don’t!” Y/n pointed a finger at him.

“What?” he played dumb.

“Don’t give me puppy eyes, it won’t work.” she smiled this time.

“Shit, are you so certain about it?” he looked down, defeated.

“Yes.” Y/n simply said.

“Okay, I understand. You can go.”

“Thanks for your permission that I didn’t ask for.” Y/n tried to joke.

“But- “ he ignored her.

“But?”

“But promise me that you are not going to disappear for too long.” he said, staring directly into her eyes.

“I promise.” Y/n said way too quickly. After a couple of seconds, she had to look elsewhere.

“Can we hug?” he said very slowly.

Y/n chuckled, placing her arms around his shoulders, at the same time Matty placed his on her waist.

“I love you.” Matty mumbled on her left shoulder.

“I love you too, Matty.” Y/n said, feeling it from the deepest of her heart. There lied the difference.

Maybe, she couldn’t love anyone like she loved Matty, even though she had to try for the good of their relationship.

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Taglist: @hollybrislen

#matty healy fic #matty healy x reader #matty healy x y/n #matty the 1975 #matty x you #matty x y/n #matty fanfic #friends to lovers #matty healy #the 1975 #Seasons #matty healy fanfiction #the 1975 fanfiction

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