#but YES I LOVE TITLING CHAPTERS I ALWAYS HAVE FUN REASONING BEHIND MY CHAPTER TITLES

[rorywritesjunk]

The stars in their courses will run and bring their hearts earthward to hear her.

Buggy brings his son in to the bakery to get a treat for his birthday. You like decorating cakes. Rating: PG-13ish. Warning: These two are trying their best. Birdie’s got some issues. Buggy’s got some issues. Together they have a subscription. Talk of child abandonment, Buggy doesn’t want to talk. Communication!! Is!! Important!! These two are really trying with that but it doesn't always go well. Both accidentally insult the other but it's okay. Both are sensitive about some things. A/N: Now that Birdie has a name I think of her a lot tbh. I'm having fun with these two just... having lil issues about what they should or shouldn't do. But as I've said, they're trying.

Title comes from “Girl in the Garden” by S.J. Tucker.

Chapter 1 + Chapter 2 + Chapter 3 + Chapter 4 + Chapter 5 + Chapter 6 + Chapter 7

Chapter 7

You regretted sleeping in your room the next morning. Between the uncomfortable mattress and waking up from the little sleep you had to Darby's cries for you, you wanted to cry yourself as you went about the kitchen preparing breakfast, balancing a clingy and sniffing toddler on one hip while poking at the eggs with your other hand. Buggy tried to take the boy back to give you a break but any time he tried Darby would cling tighter, so he gave up, instead taking over cooking breakfast.

Exhaustion was very much a thing you dealt with all day. Putting Darby down for a nap, however, was the easiest part once you said you would take one as well and that the two of you could be in Buggy’s bed. That seemed to be a good idea to him, even if naps were dumb. 

Lunch was simple because it was uncomfortable to be on your feet for very long. Darby wasn't as clingy so he was fine to sit at the table with some crayons and paper while you cooked. Buggy eventually showed up, frowning when he saw the scowl on your face. 

“What did I do now?” He asked, wondering if he forgot to do something to help you out. He was trying, really, but he still had a ship to run. You sighed heavily and closed your eyes, wincing as you shifted your weight from foot to foot.

“Well, you got me pregnant. That's what you did.” You reminded him. “The kid's been moving around and it feels weird, my back hurts, my feet hurt, and you better not get me pregnant again after this kid.”

Buggy smirked at the mention of again because to him, it meant maybe you were warming up to the idea of a relationship with him. He couldn't necessarily promise it wouldn't happen again, but he could at least help you out with this current pregnancy. He walked over and wrapped his arms around you, hugging you from behind as his hands went to your stomach, lifting it up gently. It took you a second to register what was going on, but the relief you felt on your back had you leaning back into him as you let out a sigh of relief.

“Ho-how did you know to do this, Buggy?”

“Read some things.” He shrugged. You tilted your head back to look at him with a frown.

“You read?”

He had every right to look offended by your question and you felt bad, that wasn't necessarily what you meant, so you backpedaled immediately.

“What I meant is, you read up on pregnancy stuff?”

“Yes, as soon as you told me I found some things to read.” He grumbled, keeping his arms around you as he rested his chin on your shoulder. He could have left his arms and walked away, but he enjoyed this closeness. “I wanna make sure you and the little brat are taken care of, y’know?”

“Thanks.” You mumbled as you closed your eyes for a moment. “Can you just do this until the baby is born?”

“Maybe, you gonna sleep in our bed tonight?” He asked cheekily. “I know that mattress of yours is shit. You sleep better in our room. You know it’s going to feel better.”

“D’you have to keep saying ‘our’ room?” You asked with a sigh. “Are you still falling in love with me even when I feel like shit?”

“Considering I'm the reason you look like shit, yes.” He kissed you on the cheek but you turned to glare at him. “What?”

“I said feel like shit, not look like shit, you asshole.” 

“Same thing.” He shrugged, not loosening his hold on you even as you tried to pull away. “Now, now, babe, just relax.”

“You're an asshole.” You sighed. “I need to get lunch finished. And then Darby wants to learn how to bake bread, but he and I are both going to need another nap somewhere between that and dinner. I have too much to do.” You tried again to get away but he kept you from moving. “Buggy-”

“You sit your ass down and I'll finish cooking, okay?” He said as he finally let you go before giving your ass a pinch. You turned and swatted him for that. “What? Babe, I'm capable of making lunch for my kid and you.”

“Fine, make lunch. I need to sit.” You sighed as you started to walk away, but he tugged you back over to him and kissed you on the cheek again. You let him, returning the kiss before you paused and realized what you did. He winked at you as you headed back to the table beside Darby, cooing over his drawings as he happily showed you his artwork. Buggy watched the two of you for a moment before turning his attention back to lunch, managing to stop it from burning.

~

Buggy insisted you take a break for the day. He handled anything Darby needed, which his son was fine with but he wanted you to be involved. The three year old was definitely attached to you, loved calling you Mama, and even when Buggy explained that you were laying down to rest, Darby made sure to go find you anyway, ignoring what his dad just told him. 

He barged into the room, saw you on the bed with your back to the door and hurried over. Buggy caught him by the arm before he could disturb you, but you turned your head to look at them with a frown. 

“I thought I was allowed to rest.” You mumbled as Darby squirmed in Buggy’s arms. You sighed and patted a spot on the mattress in front of you. Buggy plopped the toddler down and Darby crawled over to you. You wrapped your arms around him and kissed his little face all over while he shrieked in surprise before giggling and trying to get away from you. “You are just the cutest, Darby. I love you so much.”

“Really?” Buggy and Darby both asked at the same time. That caught you off guard, so you looked up at Buggy as you hugged Darby. 

“Yea…? I love this little kid, he’s wonderful.” 

“You haven’t known him that long.” Buggy frowned. You rubbed Darby’s back as he snuggled up against you, making himself comfortable. 

“Isn’t that what I said to you when you admitted you were in love with me?” You asked. Buggy shrugged and you reached for him, grabbing his hand and tugging him closer to the bed. He hesitated just for a moment before climbing into bed behind you, one hand going to your stomach while the other went to Darby, stroking the back of his head gently. “You’re slowly growing on me, Buggy.”

“Oh, so my charming personality is winning you over then?” He smirked as he nuzzled your cheek. “How could you not fall in love with me? I am great, you know.”

You chuckled softly and looked down at Darby. “Daddy is silly.”

“He is!” Darby agreed. Buggy huffed and ruffled his son’s hair.

“Don't betray your dad, kid.” He grumbled as Darby just grinned at him. “Turning my kid against me. Mama’s mean.”

“Mhm, and Mama wants a nap.” You told him as you closed your eyes. “We gotta talk about baby stuff at some point, Buggy, but not now.”

“Baby stuff?” Buggy repeated. “What kind of baby stuff?”

“Later.” You yawned as you snuggled Darby some more. He yawned as well and blinked up at you. It wasn't long before you dozed off. Buggy didn't move right away and neither did Darby, with the latter dozing off eventually while Buggy remained awake, hugging you close to him.

~

“What baby stuff?” Buggy asked a few days later at breakfast. You looked up from cutting Darby’s food for him. Buggy was watching you as he ate. “Well?”

“Well, you know, I should see a midwife or doctor at some point. And unless you still have things from when Darby was a newborn, then we'll need things like diapers and clothes.” You explained as you pushed Darby's plate back over to him. The three year old was happy to start eating. “Maybe we need to stop off somewhere for this sort of thing.”

“I… don't have his baby things.” Buggy frowned. “Had to repurpose some of it for new garments as he grew older and wore things out.”

“That's fine! I just need some basics then.” You told him as you started to eat. “I'm not concerned about getting a crib, if you take the lid off my trunk then the baby can sleep in there. I can make it cozy.”

“What?! No, the baby will have a crib!” Buggy looked at you in shock and mild disgust. Why would you want the baby sleeping in something other than a crib? “We can get one on the next island. My baby isn't sleeping in anything other than a crib!”

That seemed to strike a nerve but you just shrugged. “We had to get creative at the orphanage. If you want a crib then you're buying it.”

“Fine!” He snapped back, surprising you and Darby. His son looked between the two of you before reaching out for you, and you pulled him into your lap. Buggy felt bad for startling his son but he was bothered by how casual you were about this. “Look, this isn't the orphanage. My kids get a bed, understand? Darby had a crib and it was rebuilt into the bed he had now, and I'll do the same for this brat. So I'm getting a crib.”

“Okay, Buggy.” You pulled Darby's plate closer to him so he could keep eating. You said nothing as you are, occasionally checking in with Darby to make sure he was okay. Buggy watched the two of you for a bit before he got up and left. You sighed and looked down at Darby. “You okay, sweetheart?”

He nodded and finished eating before leaning into you and making himself comfortable. You wiped his face clean with a napkin and kissed him on the forehead. He beamed up at you and you smiled, touching his cheek gently before tightening your arms around him.

“You're a good boy, Darby. I love you.”

“Love you, Mama.” He snuggled up against you. 

~

“So, should we talk about breakfast?” You asked Buggy as you tucked Darby in for his nap. You knew he was standing in the doorway, you had heard him walk up. He avoided you since breakfast, disappearing into the ship somewhere as he dealt with the crew. You were fine with that, wanting space from him anyways. “Because we probably need to.”

“What's there to talk about?” He muttered as he came over to check on Darby. His son was clutching his stuffed toy as he started falling asleep. “You make this look so easy.”

“Yea, after he cries and fusses and scowls at me, it's super easy.” You chuckled. “Today he glared at me which was a little startling. He looks so much like you when he does that.” You turned and ushered Buggy out of the room, shutting the door behind the two of you. “He called me a mean Mama when I told him it was naptime. It was pretty funny.”

“He called you mean?”

“It’s fine, Buggy. Kids do that.” You assured him. “He didn’t mean it.”

Buggy frowned and crossed his arms. “Still…”

You led him to your shared bedroom and sat down on the bed, looking up at him. He sighed and sat down beside you. You reached over and patted his arm carefully.

“I’m fine with the baby having a crib, I just wanted to make things easier for all of us.” You told him. “But if you’re really in love with me, you can’t get upset with me if I bring up my past. It’s not fair. I turned out fine, okay? And… this kid will be fine, and Darby is fine.”

Buggy nodded and looked down at his feet. He didn’t really want to have a conversation, he wanted to just ignore it and hope it disappeared, but you were right. He couldn’t get upset like that if you mentioned the orphanage. He just kept having thoughts of what if that happened to Darby or to this baby? What if Darby ended up in one because Buggy had been too late, or what if you dropped the baby off because you didn’t want a reminder of him? You told him you would have never done such a thing, but could he believe you? He was in love with you, he knew it. He never met someone like you before, so kind and caring, especially to his son. How could he not?

He rubbed his face and turned to look at you, taking in the sight of you leaning back on one hand while the other rubbed your swollen stomach. Pretty soon you would pop, giving Buggy a new kid to worry about and take care of, and he was nervous to have help this time. He got by okay with Darby. There were mistakes, sure, but Darby was always safe. That’s what mattered to Buggy. 

With a sigh, he leaned forward, letting his head rest against your stomach. You let him get comfortable, running your fingers down his neck and arm slowly, letting him relax against you. Buggy was pretty sure he felt the baby moving, pushing against him as he laid there. It was such a weird feeling to him. He never got to feel that with Darby, but having you onboard meant he got to experience these little things. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, exhaling slowly to relax.

“Fuck, I love you.” He mumbled. “So much, babe.”

#buggy the clown #birdie x buggy #buggy the clown x reader #buggy the clown x you #buggy the clown x oc #buggy x reader #buggy x you #buggy x oc #opla buggy the clown #opla buggy #opla buggy the clown x oc #opla buggy the clown x reader #opla buggy x you #opla buggy the clown x you #opla buggy x reader #opla buggy x oc

[dragonwritersblog]

5+1 AU Characters as Taylor Swift Songs

I got bored yesterday and my ADHD + my swiftie brain decided to put together what says would go together with the characters of my fic. This was mostly done for fun but if you know the meanings behind these songs, I'm going to enjoy feasting on your suffering 😈

Here's the link to my fic here if you haven't read it yet.

Pomni/Penny: Mirrorball

And I'm still a believer, but I don't know why. I've never been a natural, all I do is try, try, try

I thought this song best fit Pomni/Penny due to her complicated relationship with her dad and how that affected her as a person, always trying to do her best despite what's thrown at her, even if it hurts her in the process and she doesn't know why.

Jax/Jack: This Is Me Trying

Could've followed my fears all the way down And maybe I don't quite know what to say. But I'm here in your doorway I just wanted you to know. That this is me trying

I mean, I think its kinda obvious (cough cough chapter 5 cough cough). Jax/Jack went through a lot as a kid before he moved in with Winter and the Alvarez's and yes while he's hurting, he wants to heal but as ya'll know, relapses happen. But he'll always keep trying.

Riley: Karma

Karma's gonna track you down. Step by step, from town to town. Sweet like justice, karma is a queen

I had fun with this one. As ya'll know, Riley is quite protective over those she cares about (she's also an FBI agent so if you hurt Penny you probably won't be seen the next day). Riley is always gonna make sure that those who decide to fuck around are gonna find out. After all, karma is a bitch.

Winter: 22

You don't know about me but I'll bet you want to. Everything will be alright if we just keep dancing like we're 22

Ah Winter, my sassy lesbian queen. Winter has always been fun to write due to how positive and fun she is. Teasing Jack, being lovey dovey with Riley and hyping up Penny as well. She would be one of those people who throw the wildest parties and dread cleaning up the next day, but doesn't care as long as she and others are having fun.

Amber: Tolerate It

Lay the table with the fancy shit. And watch you tolerate it

Amber, mother of two and the ex of the man that everyone in discord wants dead. This reflects what her marriage to David was like and her releasing how awful he was after they divorced. Amber is a strong and protective mother bear, but she was hurt first emotionally to become that strong. Sometimes there will be moments will break, but she always picks herself back up for her girls, David forgotten at the back of her mind for their sake.

~okay let's focus on some duo/trio songs~

Pomni/Penny & Jax/Jack: Wildest Dreams

Say you'll remember me. Standin' in a nice dress. Starin' at the sunset, babe. Red lips and rosy cheeks. Say you'll see me again. Even if it's just in your wildest dreams

Come on, are you really surprised? It's the title of the last chapter and basically this fic's theme! Even if they don't realise who each other are, there memories stay in their dreams and their shown just how beautiful their love was!!!!

Riley & Winter: Paper Rings

I like shiny things, but I'd marry you with paper rings. Uh-huh, that's right. Darling, you're the one I want

Let's go! Let's go lesbians let's go!!! The yuri deserve a nice lovey dovey song. These two are just so sweet with one another and the reason why Jack and Penny got together (much to Riley's disappointment lol) and they deserve all the happiness. And yes this song was in their wedding playlist.

Pomni/Penny & Riley: Safe and Sound

No one can hurt you now. Come morning light. You and I'll be safe and sound

This song is definitely a parallel of Penny and Riley's sisterhood, especially growing up with David still in the picture. Riley doing her job as an older sister, shielding her little sister whenever David wanted to target her with his verbal abuse. Riley hates every fibre of her father's being, it only got worse after he involved Penny in the car accident. No matter what, even as adults, Riley will always protect her baby sister from everything...until the day she couldn't.

Winter & Jax/Jack: The Best Day

God smiles on my little brother, inside and out. He's better than I am I grew up in a pretty house and I had space to run. And I had the best days with you

This was how Winter viewed her and Jack when he moved in with her family. Jack is and always will be her little brother, even if they aren't blood related. She and her family give him the life he didn't and the space to thrive, and neither she or Jack would trade it for the world even after all these years.

Pomni/Penny & Amber: Bigger Than The Whole Sky

Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye. You were bigger than the whole sky

Hehe ya'll gonna hate me for this one. But yeah, after Penny went missing, it hit Amber like a freight train. Penny was her baby, she watched her daughter go through hell and back, and helped with her healing, watched her fall in love, comforted her through her heartbreak and the next day she disappeared, and no one can find her. She grieves her daughter every day, as though she truly passed away. She and Penny had a relationship like no other, there's nothing stronger than a mother's love for her child.

Riley & Amber: Dear Reader

The greatest of luxuries is your secrets. Dear reader, when you aim at the devil make sure you don't miss. Never take advice from someone who's falling apart

While Amber loves Penny, never once did she neglect Riley or see her problems as inferior. She loves both her babies more than anything. But she can tell that Riley has gone through a lot, watching her father grow apart from her and seeing her little sister get hurt over and over again. This song is kinda reminiscent of chapter 3 (with Amber reassuring Riley that she's not wrong to feel upset with her dad), but also Amber teaching Riley what she knows and so she doesn't make the same mistakes as she did.

Amber & Riley & Pomni/Penny: Never Grow Up

Oh, darlin', don't you ever grow up. Don't you ever grow up. Just stay this little. Oh, darlin', don't you ever grow up. Don't you ever grow up. It could stay this simple

Let's end it off bittersweet with our three girls. This is reminiscing over her daughters, more so the good moments of their childhood (David isn't in these memories which isn't a surprise). It kind of hits Amber when she sees her girls all grown up and living their own lives, just how far they've come since they were kids. She gave birth to them, helped them take their first steps, cried at their first words, dropped them off both at their first days at school, teasing Riley over her first crush on a girl, comforting and spending each day Penny was in hospital after the accident, letting them cry in her shoulder over David leaving, reassured Riley that she wasn't abandoning Penny once the older of the two left for college, helped Penny overcome her eating habits, watched her girls fall in love. It leaves her tearful and proud of how much they've grown.

I hope you guys enjoyed this, and keep an eye out for my next funnybunny fic on ao3 and tumblr called 'Royally Screwed'. It's a royal AU based on the ideas and art of one of my friends on discord and I hope ya'll like it when it comes out!

#the amazing digital circus #funnybunny #5+1 au #jax #human!jax #pomni #human!pomni #original female characters #ragatha #zooble #gangle #kinger #caine #bubble #dragon rambles

[tomtenadia]

Grocery shopping, Rowaelin ❤️

Thank you for the prompt, I finally managed to finish it.

The title is beyond pathetic, I am so sorry.

1.3k word / pure fluff

Our beginning

( the image is the hand-held device Rowan uses. It makes shopping soooo much fun and easier.)

-------

It was Saturday morning and Rowan and Aelin were in the parking lot of a supermarket. 

Aelin was grumpy on the passenger seat.

“Come on Fireheart.”

“Buzzard, it’s 9 on our day off. Grocery shopping can wait.”

Rowan grabbed her hand “First no, second if we wait till late the supermarket will be mobbed.”

“Fine,” she huffed and finally got out “but I will push the trolley.

Her boyfriend rolled his eyes.

Aelin placed a hand on her heart “I promise I will not race kids down the aisle.”

That she had done and crashed against an aisle and made a mess.

But Rowan relaxed. It was a special day. They had finally moved in together. The day before they moved everything to the new place. They had been dating for two years and Rowan finally asked and he was looking forward to the new chapter in their lives. They had met at work.

Rowan was an aircraft engineer at the local airbase and Aelin a retired captain and now full time pilot instructor. Their beginnings were… turbulent. They would fight because he hadn’t done something in the exact way she wanted. They were both military but whereas he had always been an engineer and always on ground, Aelin had been career driven and even now that was just an instructor she still, sometimes, reverted to that strictness. Only at work.

“Fine, just no accidents, please.”

She stuck her tongue out and Rowan pulled her to his chest and kissed her head “come on, menace. Our house has no food and feeding you is a job on it’s own. I should get paid.”

With a finger she jabbed his side “You love cooking for me.”

He raised an eyebrow “Do I have a choice? If I don’t cook you will starve.”

Aelin pouted and walked away to grab a trolley. Rowan locked the car and joined and wound his arms around her from behind “I love cooking for you,” he whispered to her ear.

“Come on buzzard. I am starving, we had no breakfast.”

They had no food in the house, another reason why he wanted to go early. When Aelin was hungry, she turned hangry.

Buying food on an empty stomach was not a good idea. Buying food with Aelin on an empty stomach was a recipe for disaster.

Inside the supermarket and grabbed a trolley and Rowan extracted a token and inserted it in the case on the handle bar and removed the chain.

“You have a token?”

“Yes, fireheart. I shop regularly.”

“I use a hand basket and drag it until my arms fall off.”

His hand gently pushed her forward and passed her the trolley “now behave.”

The grin she gave him promised chaos.

Rowan walked to a wall with hand held scanners and Aelin watched him in fascination as he scanned his loyalty card and grabbed a scanner and walked back.

“What is that?”

“This,” he showed her the scanner “you scan the barcode, it gets added here on the screen and you will see how much you are spending. In the meantime you can pack your grocery already so it makes a much faster checkout.”

“Can I play with it?”

He glared at her “you are on trolley duty.”

Aelin pouted “spoilsport.”

Rowan started following the aisles with extreme precision. Aelin had started wandering already and he had to chase around the vegetable and fruit market section. He always found fascinating the contrast between the Aelin outside at work and the one at work.

Once her uniform was on she was methodical, strict and unyielding. Outside work she was chaos made real. And maybe that was one of the reasons he loved her so much. Sje made his life interesting.

He grabbed a wide selection of vegetables and placed them in a paper bag and weighed everything. Then with his arms full he went looking for Aelin.

“Fireheart?”

He found her an aisle down staring at the meat counter.

He dumped all of his stuff in the trolley and pulled her back “I am still at the beginning.”

“What’s all that?”

“Vegetables.”

“Why did you buy that stuff?”

Rowan rolled his eyes. Aelin hated veggies, but he always sneakily added them to his meals. In the end Aelin would polish the plate anyway.

Fruit was another challenge but Rowan bought her some strawberries and promised to eat them off her to celebrate their new house. Aelin had thrown three packs in the shopping.

In a very organised way rowan dragged his girlfriend through a specific path and managed to keep her under control.

When it came to the personal care section she disappeared and Rowan joined her “You don’t want to shop here.”

He was about to ask why then he saw her in front of the shelves for feminine products.

“Aelin, I have stayed at your place and I have seen your boxes of tampons. I even know which ones you prefer.”

She turned to him surprised.

“I am not scared of a box of tampons.”

It was a stupid thing but Aelin threw her arms around his neck. Her ex Chaol wouldn’t even be able to utter the word tampon.

“You are amazing, you know that?”

Smugly he kissed her “It’s normal. Some guys are just sissies.”

She burst out laughing and thought that Rowan had been the best thing had ever happened to her. Also, he had turned out to be a feminist to the core.

After that moment of PDA Rowan then walked to the household items and started browsing pans and pots.

“Ro, how many pans and pots do you need?”

They had brought some from his old place but they were getting old and he had admitted that he wanted to buy a fresh new set.

“Shhh… let the pros work.”

Aelin walked back and forth and looked at the mugs “Ohhh look, they have mugs with letters, we need A and B.”

“Why B?”

“Because you are a buzzard.”

He stood from his crouched position and joined. His hand grabbed a mug with a letter M “Then we need M for you, because you are a menace.”

He thought she was going to protest but paused instead “yes, we can confuse our friends, I love it.”

Finally agreeing on the mug situation he went back to his pans and pots and utensil and it was a good twenty minutes later when he grinned satisfied.

“Weirdo.”

“Well, when tonight I cook you the bangers and mash you asked me to, you will be happy that I have a nice pan.”

Her eyes lit up “Will you make it with your beer gravy?”

He kissed her head in acknowledgment.

The shopping experience took almost two hours but Rowan had been happy. It was a milestone. Their first shopping, for their new house. He was giddy. Aelin had spent a good half an hour in the desserts section and had bought far too much chocolate for Rowan’s taste.

As they walked to the checkouts, Aelin dragged him to one with little queue but Rowan pulled away “We have the hand-held scanner and everything is packed, we have our own checkouts.

She followed him, he was the expert of such high tech shopping apparently. And it had been fast. He just scanned the device to the self checkout machine and paid and they were all done.

“I love this wand thingy.”

“If you behave, next time you can play with it.”

They made their way back to the car and loaded the groceries in the trunk.

On their way home, Rowan placed his hand on her leg.

Aelin smiled at the amazing man at her side and all she could think about was strawberries on her naked body and he eating off her.

That was surely the perfect way to celebrate a new milestone together.

#rowaelin #rowanwhitethorn #rowan whitethorn #rowaelin fanfiction #rowan x aelin #rowaelin fanfic #throne of glass series #aelin galythinius #aelin x rowan #fluff

[canyonmooncreations]

A Little Mix Up -- Chapter One

 A Little Mix Up

Chapter One

Characters: Spencer x reader

Word Count: about 4500

Author’s Note: hey guys! Heheh 

Warnings: Regressed state, Professor!Reid, ddlg dynamic, curse words, mean roommate, Stern!Spencer

Y/n’s POV

This class is honestly one of the most boring classes I have taken. The only reason I keep showing up is because the dumb professor takes attendance for a grade. My professor is Dr. Reid. He’s actually a real FBI agent, which is kind of cool. His personality though? He seems like a real ass. I haven’t had too many encounters with him but I have heard enough stories.

“Alright, class. I want your papers turned in by midnight.”

We had to choose a case where the insanity plea was implied and talk about if we thought it was reasonable or not. I did one over some guy who had amnesia. I titled it “Little Did He Know”. Is that not so clever?

“Y/n!! How are you?? Do you want to go to the mall tonight??” Brea approaches me and wraps me into a tight hug.

“I’m sorry, I would but I have to finish up this paper. Do you have yours done?”

“Nah, I’m not gonna finish it in time so I might as well go have fun.” Brea waved and walked away. I walked back to my dorm in peace, enjoying the soft weather.

Tonight was a Friday night which meant I could stay up late watching Disney movies and coloring since my roommate always stays out on Friday nights. Her name is Aubrey and she’s pretty mean, just to be honest. My favorite thing to do is watch movies. After dinner, I finished my paper and then I found some really cute coloring books online, downloaded them and printed them out. Time for the fun to begin.

Before you knew it, the clock read 11:58. FUCK. I forgot to submit my paper. In a rush, I turned in my assignment right at 11:59. That was too close for comfort.

Anyways, back to my little activities. I love coloring. It helps me relax and pushes my stress to the back burner for the time being. Tonight I went with Moana, one of my favorite movies. After coloring a few pages and doing a few activities in one of the books, I was drained. I found my spot on my bed and snuggled in close with Mr. Rumple, my favorite stuffie.

*Monday Morning *

Third Person POV

Y/n’s last class of the day was always Dr. Reid’s class. She was always the first one there, simply so she could have her favorite seat and help her eliminate some of her anxiety. On her way to class, she received an email catching her attention. It was from the one and only Dr. Reid, maybe class was cancelled and she could go to bed early.

From: Spencer Reid

To: Y/n Y/l/n

Subject: Discussion

Y/n,

Please see me after class. There is something we need to discuss.

Dr. Reid

It was short and to the point. Y/n began to panic. What did she do wrong? Was she failing? Was her paper that bad?? Was he kicking her out of his class? The thoughts went on and on.

Y/n found herself sitting on the verge of tears, anxiety induced. The class began to fill with other students and Dr. Reid arrived. Y/n caught his eyes and immediately looked away. She couldn’t let him see how distraught she was. She needed to stay strong, in case he was really kicking her out of class.

Today’s class seemed to fly by and before y/n knew it the bell was ringing and class was dismissed. She considered leaving with the crowd and hoping he wouldn’t notice, but she knew that would only make it worse.

Y/n made her way up to the front of the lecture hall and was shaking with anxiety.

“You wanted to see me, Sir,”

“Yes. Let’s take this to my office. Follow me, please.”

Y/n had no clue where his office was. She thought maybe he was going to murder her. He could get away with it, after all. She was following him and struggling to keep up. He walked at a very brisk pace due to his long legs. Y/n slowly started falling more and more behind before he noticed.

Spencer turned around only to see y/n trying to catch up. He paused and waited for her before turning down the next hall. He slowed his pace so she could keep up a little better. Finally, they had made it outside and he began to walk towards his office. Spencer stopped at the crosswalk waiting for traffic to calm; however, y/n did not notice. Y/n walked with her eyes down and walked right into the back of him.

“I- I’m sorry.”

“Be careful, y/n.” He spoke in a warning tone which only made her gulp. She had never been this close to him which only made her nerves spike more. His aroma filled her senses and she had never smelt anything this good. He began to walk and grabbed y/n’s hand dragging her with him. She could feel the warmth of his hand around her wrist, but didn’t fully register what was happening until he had let go.

Y/n felt a weird feeling drop to her stomach. She had butterflies. The simple caring motion of helping her cross the street was something only a Daddy would do. Y/n always wanted a Daddy, but it’s so hard to find a real one.

What felt like hours later, they had finally made it to his office. It had really only been a couple of minutes.

“Have a seat, Ms. Y/l/n.”

Without any hesitation, she sat her bag down and sat in a chair across from his desk.

“Now, y/n, how did you feel about the last assignment the class turned in?” she shifted under his questioning gaze and let her eyes fall to the floor before answering.

“I really enjoyed it.” She spoke softly.

“That’s good. May I ask what you titled your paper?”

“Oh no, did I forget to put the title on there? I’m sorry.”

“Answer the question, please.” He looked at her a stern look, prompting her to answer.

“uhh, uhh, I- I titled it “Little Did He Know” because the guy had amnesia and I thought it would be a good joke.” She spoke in a timid voice.

He only nodded.

“Y/n, I have to tell you something and I don’t want you to panic, okay?”

Y/n nodded and she could feel the tears already forming. Why couldn’t he just tell her already?

“You did not turn in a paper for this assignment. You turned in a document titled ‘Littles Coloring and Activity Book’.”

Y/n felt like she could throw up. Before she knew it, she was sobbing. She couldn’t stop the tears. The embarrassment, the panic, the anxiety, it was all too much.

“Y/n, please calm down. It is not a big deal at all. I think it seems like a very fun book. Have you started it yet?” His voice was softer than before and laced with genuine interest and kindness. Y/n nodded. “Do you have it with you?” She nodded again. She packed it in her bag today, unsure why.

“May I see some of your colorings?”

Y/n froze. Was he ridiculing her? Was this all a joke to him? Was he serious??

“I-I, uhh, are you serious?”

“Yes, of course, y/n. I would really like to see your pictures.”

All of these emotions and all of this distress was causing her to regress a little and this request was only making it harder to fight. She always wanted someone to show her art to.

Y/n reached into her bag and pulled out the packet. She shyly slid it across his desk and proceeded to try and shrink herself away in case he was really only here to make fun of her.

“These are beautiful pictures. Did you do these all by yourself?”

His eyes were soft and met y/n’s tearstained ones. She only nodded, too afraid to speak.

“You did such an amazing job.”

The small amount of praise was more than she had gotten in only God knows how long. The words went directly to her stomach and she began to blush.

Y/n looked outside only to see the sun had been covered by clouds and the rain was falling hard.

“Oh no. I have to go.” Y/n began frantically putting her folder back in her bag and trying to gather her things while rambling an apology. “I have to walk home before it gets too bad. I have to-”

“Y/n.” She was cut short and her eyes met his. “I’ll take you home.”

“No. No. It’s fine. Really. It’s fine. I just need to get going before it gets-”

Spencer stood up putting on his rain jacket and y/n froze.

“You don’t have to-”

“Y/n. Stop. I said I was taking you home and you are not going to fight me on it. It is raining, you’re oblivious to your surroundings when you walk, and it is getting dark.”

“Seriously, its fi-”

Spencer took a step closer and grabbed her bag, and slung in over his shoulder.

“I am taking you home. End of discussion.”

Y/n realized she couldn’t win this battle; he had her bag and was walking out of his office.

Y/n jogged to catch up, but tripped over her untied boot laces going down the stairs. Her screams echoed through the hall as Spencer came jogging back to her side.

“What happened?”

“uhhh, my shoe… I fell.”

“Y/n.” He spoke with a ‘you should have been more careful’ tone.

Spencer grabbed her leg, moving it to tie her boots. This small action making it harder for her to fight her regression. He helped her up, but then proceeded to pick her up onto his side.

“I can walk.”

“Obviously you can’t. Are you hurt?”

“Only my feelings.”

Spencer chuckled and y/n leaned into him as he carried her through the rain and into the parking garage. She was too drained to fight a battle she knew she wouldn’t win. Spencer had sat her in the passenger seat and proceeded to buckle her in. She thought only daddies did this, correction: she thought only fictional daddies she read about did this. He can’t be a daddy. Why is he being like this?? Y/n felt herself slip into a sleepiness mixed with a regressed state due to the emotionally draining day she had so far.

Spencer had gotten into his side and started the car. “Which dorm do you stay in?”

All that had come out of y/n’s mouth was mumbles and slurred words. Nothing that made any sense.

“Y/n can you use your big girl words?”

She only shook her head and whined at the mere thought of being a big girl and facing this situation.

“Y/n, I can’t take you home if you don’t tell me where you live.” He spoke in a soft voice, but nevertheless, it still only prompted y/n to let the tears fall.

“I don't wannnnnnna go home!”

Trying not to chuckle at how much he admired her regressed state he asked “Why do you not want to go home?”

“Aubrey” she manages to get out between sniffles. 

“Y/n, I need a little more than that. Who’s Aubrey and why does she make you not want to go home?”

“My meanie roommate.” Her sobs only intensified.

“Well, y/n, do you have anywhere else you stay?” He reached over to wipe some tears with the pad of his thumb. He held her cheek, forcing her to make eye contact.

“No, I sleep in the basement lobby when she is home.”

“We can’t have you doing that. I won’t have you doing that. That’s not safe y/n.” She only shrugged. “You can stay with me tonight.” She sniffled before crying more.

“I don't wanna be an inconvenience. I don’t wanna be a problem.” She turned her head to face away from him, knowing he’d agree and drop her off with her horrible roommate.

Spencer reached for her hand and squeezed it as he spoke. “I promise it’s okay. Why don’t you get some rest on the way home?”

Spencer began driving home, he was in for a long night with a very exhausted, regressed y/n on his hands. He rested his hand on her thigh in an attempt to calm her down and she latched her hand onto his thumb. On the ride home, y/n fell fast asleep holding onto Spencer’s thumb. He noticed she had goosebumps and covered her in one of his sweatshirts at the next red light. He couldn’t help but smile at the cutest girl holding onto him as she slept.

#spencer reid #spencer x y/n #spencer x reader #spencer #smut #princess #criminal minds #criminalminds #fanfiction #fanfic #chap one

[violets-in-her-arms-writes]

WIP Wednesday Tag

Thank you @rubywrite for the tag ! ♥ (even though it took me 3 days to answer XD) It forced me to write on my main WIP, so thank you so much !

RULES:

In a reblog (or new post/w rules attached) post up to five filenames of your WIPs, not titles, file names

Post a snippet from one of them. Snippet must be something you wrote in the last 7 days (we're posting progress here. If you haven't made any, go make some and come back to post!)

After you've posted, people can send you an ask with one of your file names. You must then write 3 sentences in that file. If the filename is one you can't share from, write 3 sentences on it anyway and then 3 more on another to share!

That's it! You can invite others to join in or just post. If you tag me in your post, I will send you an ask request.

I usually name my WIP documents with the (temporary) title, so I'm afraid it won't be very interesting but anyway, here are 5 of my recent-ish WIPs:

🦇 La Fledgling (version complète) → doc where I compile all the things I've written for this WIP, because otherwise they are separated in "chapter 1" to "chapter 11" documents, but I like to have a complete doc to know how many words I have

🧜‍♀️ Mermaid AU → not very original since this is, you guessed it, an AU where the two main characters of the Fledgling are mermaids (well, one is currently drowning but I only have 600 words, I'll get to the mermaid part one day). It's a baby WIP, something I write for fun when I don't feel like writing for the main WIP. I might try my hand at a soulmate AU next, but I need to decide what kind and that's gonna need a lot of thinking (15 minutes to three business weeks, basically).

🌠The Wishing Star → it was my Camp NaNo project, about a woman who wants to become a pilot in a war-torn galaxy but first has to serve in a postal ship. Unfortunately, the ship is attacked but the resistance, she discovers she's adopted and has to fight to liberate her birth planet. Poor girl. It's currently on hold, because I was tired of it by the end of April XD

🐍The Witch's Time (tome 3) → the love of my life and bane of my existence. I'm stuck in the middle of this book, I need to cut half of it and put it in the 4th book and figure out... so many things. I printed the first two and they are soooo pretty. Unfortunately, this third book is kicking my ass. I'll be back Llewella, I swear, but I need time. It's not you, it me (I say, like a liar). It's technically an AU of another project of mine, but it grew a mind of its own and now I'm attached.

👽 Le truc avec les aliens (tome 2) → technically, its name is "Empire Déchu, tome 2 - La malédiction de Suli" but that's way too long so I just call it 'the thing with the aliens' because, really, that's what this is. A novel. With aliens. And a poor girl kidnapped and hailed as the saviour of a dying sect who want to resurrect a dead guy.

Now that I'm face to face with a few of my WIPs, I realized a lot of them have English titles, for some reason. I mean... I know why "La Fledgling" is called that (hint: it's because i couldn't find a good equivalent in French. Come on, jeune ? Débutante ? That's... not good. I'm not writing about a noble woman making her debut in society, be serious). But the others are just... choices. It sounded good and now it's stuck. Ok, maybe not 'the wishing star' because I don't like this title, but for WsT it's too late. I'm three books in, I can't go back.

Excerpt behind the cut, because this post is getting a little too long.

Excerpt:

"What do you want?" I asked her without giving her a chance to say anything.

As much as I hoped she would call me with something positive to say, I had known Anaëlle Charles since kindergarten. If she called me, it was always a bad sign.

"Jo, dear, I could use your help."

"Yes, I know. That's why I asked you what you wanted, moron."

I got up from my warm and cozy bed, still talking, put my phone on speaker the floor, and began to fumble for my clothes in the dark. Where the fuck was my left sock ? I was pretty sure my shirt was inside-out, but I doubted anyone would notice where I was going. Wherever that was.

Please dont let in be the swamps again, I prayed while putting my boots on.

"I'm... in trouble."

I was about to tell her that, yeah, obviously she was in trouble, she wouldn’t be calling at four in the morning if she wasn't, but something in her voice stopped me. It didn’t sound like the «I’m lost in the swamps again» kind of troubles, not even the «I think my magic is trying to eat me (again)» kind of trouble, both of which I could solve with my eyes close (mostly). It sounded… Like the bad kind of trouble. The one I wasn’t awake enough for.

Before I could ask her what the fuck was going on and why she sounded so… off, she went on, her voice almost as low as a sigh. Her breath sizzled in the receiver and I could hear her fingernails clicking against something metallic.

Ana was good at pretending, but she always ended up betraying herself.

"I'm at 23 Boulevard de l'Aube. Come get me. Hurry."

She pulled the phone away from her, shouted something I didn't understand, and hung up.

Tagging : @ladyniniane, @flowerprose and @amewinterswriting if you want to play (even tho it's not wednesday...)

#wip: la fledgling #écriture #tag games #this is longer than it should be but osef #translating excerpts is fun but time consuming because i have to adapt the way they talk #fuck is not the exactly same as putain and yet #in french ana says she's “dans la panade” but in english i wrote “in trouble” even tho it's not the same implications #“panade” sounds more level-hearted than “trouble”

[vestige-nan]

The Thorn in my Side, the Pebble in my Shoe: Ch 7

Summary: The main quest line in Mannimarco’s perspective, except that he falls chaotically in love with the vestige just as much as he chaotically hates them. Fun stuff: We’re gonna get some insight into the vestige this chapter! As always, vestige is gender neutral and physical features are not described. 

I bit my lower lip as my fingers impatiently tapped on my table, my eyes unable to unglue themselves from the visage of the vestige and their troublesome band of wretches. I had managed to calm my anger enough to sit down, but with Tharn now siding with the vestige’s foolish lot, I didn’t know much Tharn pried behind my back and I didn’t know what he would disclose. And I hated not knowing.

To say the sorry group looked like a mess was an understatement. At the very least, each of them looked haunted after having escaped my castle. Tharn picked pieces of rotted corpse off his shoulders, Lyris pulled a section of an intestine out of her hair with a gag, and the vestige tried in vain to get a particularly putrid blood stain from their attire before giving up.

“My estates, my titles, my own life―it's all forfeit now. All in the name of preserving the Empire.” Tharn spoke. “I swear by all the gods, Mannimarco will pay dearly for this.”

My tapping stopped as my eyes narrowed with hatred. Preserving the Empire? He would have saved the Empire had he only stayed loyal.

The vestige turned to Tharn, an annoyingly kind look in their eyes. “Are you alright?”

“Of course. I am Abnur Tharn.” He picked one last rotted flesh piece from his shoulders before composed himself. “Now then, where were we?”

“You were going to tell us where Sai Sahan is.”

A pulse I might’ve not still had began to race and my hands came into fists. How much did Tharn figure out behind my back? I hated this anticipation.

Tharn cleared his throat. “Ah. Yes. Ahem. Truth be told, I don't know the precise location, but I do know that he is Mannimarco's prisoner, and that the King of Worms is trying to pry the location of the Amulet from him.”

I let out a breath and leaned back, before a chuckle escaped my lips. He knew nothing. He betrayed me for nothing.

The vestige looked speechless, and I might have enjoyed their incredulous look more than finding out Tharn had no conception of my plans. It seemed as though the vestige also went through that endeavor for nothings as well. “You don't know where he is?”

“Now, now, before you lose your temper, let me clarify.” Tharn said, straightening his back. “I don't know precisely where he is, but I can find out. I'll just need a little time.”

That statement made me lean forward again as I brought a hand to my chin, my brow furrowing. Was it another bluff to save himself? Or could he truly find Sai Sahan? That... would not do... Perhaps, he would reveal—

“What?” Before I could even finish my thought, the half-giant sneered, her hands cracking and forming into tight fists. She stalked over to Tharn, and in that moment I could see the imperial lose poise as her shadow cast over him. “You son of a bitch!”

I couldn’t contain my wild grin when she punched him so hard, he stumbled back. It seemed the half-giant was good for more than just slave labor at the Foundry. 

Abnur brought a hand to his face, wiping the blood from his lips as he stared at her with both fear and anger. “Gah! Are you insane? Get away from me, you brutish she-troll!” 

“Lyris! Stand down!” Varen tried to mediate.

Lyris’s eyes were venomous as she bared her teeth, “He's done nothing but lie to us from the beginning! I don't care what he says, he'll always be Mannimarco's toady!”

I cackled aloud, a hand coming to my eyes as I couldn’t contain my delight. These fools were so simple, they could not get along to save their own lives! They would sooner tear themselves apart at the seams than stop my plans! And how I would enjoy watching them tear at each other. The only reason they’ve lasted so long is because the vestige—

The vestige was walking away from the three? My confusion was quickly replaced with chagrin as I realized not only was my front row seat of seeing Tharn and Lyris kill each other taken from me, but also my ability to reveal crucial information about Tharn’s plan to find Sai Sahan.

“What the Oblivion are you doing?” I hissed, knowing my words couldn’t reach them and yet still demanding they return.

Unfortunately, the vestige did not listen to my demands, and instead stood next to the divine’s forsaken soul shriven that had traveled with them out of Coldharbour. 

The soul shriven was warming their hands next to an open flame, and had to be the most ridiculous looking soul shriven I had ever laid eyes on. A pot sat on his head as a helmet, a sheet on his chest as armor, and the most ludicrous, nonsensical pattern of speech spilled from his tongue. “I say, you do get into some wild adventures, don't you?”

I sneered. The way the soul shriven spoke was grating to my ears.

“You could say so.” The vestige began warming their hands as well.

“Quite the ruckus fair Lyris and the good chancellor are getting up to over there, which is quite surprising! I would assume they’d get along swimmingly!”

“Those two?” The vestige tilted their head in thought for a moment before saying, “No. Those two are like oil and water.”

“Oil and water? Why, I was certain they were flesh and blood! I suppose you can’t right judge a book by its cover, eh?”

The vestige laughed and I slapped my face, dragging my hand down my cheeks. Why was I wasting my time with this?

“I do say, they are getting quite rowdy; causing a kerfuffle in this quaint cave I am so enjoying.” The soul shriven said, “Whatever are they quarrelling for?”

“Something about Lyris’s friend being held captive by the king of something, or the amulet of something being important for some reason.” 

There are few things in the world that can baffle me to the degree that the vestige had. I had to close my agape mouth because of how absolutely bewildering they managed to confound me. It took me a breath before I could even formulate a coherent thought.

How could it be. That my greatest obstacle. Who has slain armies of undead and daedra. Paused the hand of the Daedric Prince of Domination. Saved Varen, Lyris, and Tharn. All of this. And thy Barely know what they’re fighting for.

It was maddening enough to tear their body apart bit by bit. I dreamed of sinking my fingers into their open chest and tearing their lungs and heart with my nails and carving my name into their bones and brain, so they could never refer to me as the “king of something” again. I would resurrect them so they could feel that pain for eternity, force their vocal cords to scream “King of Worms! King of Worms!” in a chorus of agony until Aetherius burned out. 

Sheogorath was scratching at my mind. I pushed the thoughts aside. 

“My, my, that certainly sounds like something important, indeed!” The soul shriven tilted his head, his milky white eyes glossing over the vestige. “Or somewhat of a something, that’s for certain.”

“You’re telling me.” The vestige said, as if the soul shriven made any semblance of sense whatsoever. 

“Where can we find this dear friend of the lady Lyris?” The pot bobbed on the soul shriven’s head, and he had to push it up from his eyes. “I love a good rescue mission; I would have you know. I’m quite good at them.”

“We think Mannimarco has him.” So, they knew my name but not my title? That would be rectified. “You might not have been there, but he was the pretty mer who kept raising skeletons to fight us.”

I did not think the vestige could shock me anymore than they already had. I was wrong. 

“Mannimarco? Yes, yes, I know him. Or I know of him, nasty fellow, always raising the dead. Not that I hate the undead or the like, they’re just awful to smell.” The words of the soul shriven were as sand to me. 

Pretty mer. 

My face curled in disgust. The disrespect alone for that comment would land the vestige in the deepest pits of Coldharbour until the stars burned out. To refer to me, the Lord of Necromancy, Master of the Worm Cult, Bane of Nirn, King of...

Pretty mer.

Well, they certainly weren’t wrong.

“Did you know he betrayed Varen? Poor old chum.” The soul shriven continued, “Pulled the wool right underneath his feet! Now we have all this nasty plane meld business.”

“Yeah, the prophet was saying something about that.” The vestige nodded their head. “I wasn’t paying too close attention... I’m pretty sure he killed me, though.”

What did they mean “pretty sure”?

Pretty mer. 

“Did he now? How sure are you? It’s quite important to get that right.”

The vestige shrugged, “That’s just what they tell me. I don’t remember anything before I lost my soul.”

My eyes widened. I leaned back slowly, allowing my mind to mull over this new piece of information. This conversation had been full of surprises, but this. This memory loss could be useful to me.

“You don’t? Well, that’s quite wonderful to hear, jolly ol’ chum!” 

The vestige raised a brow, “It is?”

“Yes, indeed! Because I happen to find myself in the very same predicament!” The soul shriven boasted. “Well, not including all of the soul deficiency piddle-paddle.”

The vestige smiled. “I guess we’re amnesia buddies, then.”

I groaned. I hated that this was the being that bested me.

“Quite so, quite so.”

“Vestige.” As if to end my agony, Aquilarios called to the vestige. Tharn and Lyris looked, unfortunately, not as if they killed each other, but there was no amity between them either. “Come. We have something to share with you.”

The vestige gave the soul shriven one last charming wink before making their way toward Aquilarios.

Charming? No. Errant.

Pretty mer. By the divines, I needed to push that from my mind.

#Mannimarco #mannimarco x vestige #tes #teso #The Elder Scrolls #The Elder Scrolls Online #the vestige #the thorn in my side the pebble in my shoe

[vegaelettra]

I've remember that ask meme in your blog, so let's go, let's go!

My ask is number 13!!! :)

Thank you for the ask @mamadalena​ ❤ (from this ask meme)

My writing style and the dead giveaways of my writing... this really needed a bit of introspection XD And I’m still not completely sure if I nailed the idea behind the question... hope it’ll be fine anyway! <3

But long answer, so under the cut this time too 😊

Present tense. To be honest, it's not like I always wrote in the present tense (I actually have hibernated WIPs, hWIP from now on, through the years that I wrote in the past tense, both in English and in my first language). In my current fandom though, I found it easier to write with it and I like how it sounds and how it flows. So, I think that if I'll have to write a secret fic at this time, I would absolutely use it.

Multi-POV. I think this would come into play more if the secret fic is going to be a long fic. I'm usually able to limit myself to a single POV in one-shots. In long fic, though, multi-POV all the way. Almost all my hWIPs are multi-POV, because I love the chance to explore more than one character, their ways of thinking, and their emotions. And how the plot is explored too between the different POVs. I just find it more fun, and writing fics should be fun so ;) Even more, I noticed that often an ensemble cast or a main character+interesting and participating second characters increase the chance of me at least outlining some idea for that fandom, so... it may not be a coincidence ;)

Chapters Title. This I think is something really minor, but I found out I really like giving titles to the chapters of my long fics (even when I have to think about it for days). I usually prefer something short/medium-short that manages to capture the feel of the chapter without giving in away too much (unless there's a reason to).

Canon Divergence/What-if. When I love a fandom (and this usually means I love the characters + a plot that at least I don't dislike too much), I love to explore how things could've been if something went just a little bit differently, if a character was in a place where they weren't or vice versa and things like that. There's something I really find appealing in the challenge and satisfaction of walking through the butterfly effect with my characters and readers. This happens a lot in my hWIPs too.

Missing Moments. While it's not as prominent as the point above, I found out through the years that is a thing I like too, to add that tiny bit that I thought missing in the story as it is and that they just didn't give me. it obviously happens more often with my one-shots. Not even my chronic longfic syndrome is able to span a missing moment on dozen of chapters (luckily. Unless is some kind of prequel thing or something like that...).

Female characters. To be clear, it's not that I don't like male characters or I don't like to write about them (U-won, Yi Jin, Yi Rim, Yang to just name a few about Rookie Historian are a clear proof). And, to be honest, I think I always end up with a good proportion between prominence given to male and female characters (even if it's a too reductive way to define what a character can be, but let's simplify this one time) in my fics. But, yes, female characters and their friendships and relationship are going to be central in my stories more often than not.

Dialogue and Inner Voice. I may write descriptions (and like it too), but one things that I love is writing dialogue between characters. Often, it’s the first thing I write down for a scene. I love trying to capture the specific character’s voice and try to make it pop out of the page (don’t know if it always work XD). That’s why I think of the characters’ inner voice as an extension of it. How can I do without something like Yang’s inner exasperation or Hae-ryung’s unapologetic remarks? ;)

Character Relationships. Friendship, family, romance, siblings, rivals, parent-child, whatever for better or worse, in the foreground or in the background of the characters' actions and thoughts, I love to weave and explore the relationships between the characters, how the plot can affect them/be affected by them and how they can affect the character themself. I love to create interesting (I hope) plots, but then I use them as a means to see the characters and make a deep dive into their emotions. This is one reason more why I like ensemble cast: they already give me things to work upon!

Happy ending. Or at least a hopeful one (The Flower that Bloom..., My One and Only Brother). Bittersweet if nothing else works (The Quiet Fall...). I may read/watch something with a sad/tragic ending, but I'm not going to go searching for it. And, usually, I'm not going to write it. I hopelessly love happy endings and, even if I'm going to send my characters through hell and back, you can bet I'm going to give them their happy ending (not that this means necessarily a sugarcoated one though).

And last one, to end with a laugh (I'm really not being serious here):

Being slooow. Not really something that you can call "writing style", but I couldn't help but mention it XD I mean, if you write a long fic as long as mine it surely is something really annoying and that really stands up in the end LOL

Hope this long-winded answer satisfied your ask! ^-^

This said, I'm sure I forgot some dead giveaways that are glaringly obvious to someone who read more than one of my fics and invisible to me.

If you or anyone else would like to add their two cents on my writing style, I'll love to read it and see how would you recognize my writing! <3

#happy fic writer ask game #ask meme #mamadalena's ask

[sevengraces]

The Heroes Journey (To Find A Home)

ch1, ch2, ch3, You, ch5, ch6, ch7, ch8, ch9, ch10, ch11, Title Card

AO3 Link

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Technoblade visits the Nether and ignores all his problems. Sometimes we socialize as an avoidance tactic.

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Sorry this is a tad late I had a hectic day lol. Enjoy CW's- Panic attack Spiraling thoughts Swearing Chat Fake cultural traditions and explanations Vague references to traumatic childhood stuff (rip techno) Canon typical references to war That should be everything, let me know if I missed something lol. Reminder!! If the phrase/words are in quotes AND underlined then it is spoken in piglin. The only time in the story that I'll use an underline otherwise is for the death messages in the beginning.

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Chapter 4- Filling In Plot Holes With Cement

    After Wilbur finally left, Technoblade let out an anxious whine.

    Chat mostly stopped their mocking at the noise;

    Why do you cry runt?

    Little pig?

    All good fun

    EEE

    He knows.

    “You’re right, Chat! He knows, there's no way he doesn’t. My voice was all wrong, and I kept speaking piglin instead of overworld! He walked in while I wasn’t wearing my mask!” The piglin hybrid paced anxiously as he ranted.

    “He didn’t say anything about that, but I just, why can’t I keep my mouth shut!”

    The voices quieted themselves in an attempt to soothe the panicking boy.

    You just wanted to be known

    S’not so bad little pig

    He didn’t see your face

    He can’t mind himself, if he had figured you out he would’ve gloated

    He would’ve told

    Techno chuffed and tugged his mask off to pull at his loose hair, “He was so cruel, why wouldn’t he stop? I wanted him to go.” the boy cried to his invisible choir.

    He didn’t mean it

    Wil said sorry little runt

    Just got ahead of himself, he’s too curious for his own good.

    Or for yours.

    “I hate hiding. You know I hate hiding! Why do you make fun if you know I don’t wanna?” the young boy slid against the wall and began to braid his hair absentmindedly.

    Chat snarked,

    They don’t know you hate it

    All they see is a mask of bone demand honesty

    Just reminding not teasing

    Not over this

    Techno tied off his braid, “I know you’re not Chat. M’just anxious right now. Hate waking up like that. Hate it when people call me that.” he mumbled dejectedly.

    You aren’t a weapon little runt

    Just brave

    They only call you that out of fear

    Someone needs to be the villain

    There are worse things you’ve been called.

    He laughed slightly, “I guess you’re right, people have called me worse names. I just, the Blade feels like a title and not a person. I’m only the Blade when I wear the mask. Cause the Blade is what they want to fight with, not Techno. It’s never gonna be Techno, huh Chat?”

    You’re always Techno

    The Blade is just something to hide behind, a safety measure.

    You don’t have to be The Blade or Techno

    You’re runt, not Blade

    “Whatever! I dunno why you guys call me that anyways, I’m not a runt. I’ve got fourteen entire years, Chat! Fourteen of them! I was all by myself, except for you all, for all but three of them! Can’t call me runt if I take care of myself. I fought in a war, even owned the whole world for a day!” the boy groaned and pulled himself up to dress in his armor and leathers.

    Chat laughed at his denial but didn’t reply feasibly.

    Techno slipped into piglin as he gathered his things, “You guys suck, only ever quiet when you’re making fun of me. How did Wil even know where I live anyways?”

    Followed you?

    “But when? Maybe last night, I was pretty tired after Tommy and stuff.” He rolled his shoulders out and placed the mask on once more, “Okay, whatever, today we’re gonna get materials. Are you guys ready for a trip to the Nether? Gotta practice piglin with people that aren’t the voices in my head anyways.”

    Chat cheered and booed in equal measure.

    “Taking that as a yes then. Let’s go boys!” ----------------------

    Techno loved visiting the Nether.

    There were a lot of reasons, really. Maybe it was the heat, or how familiar it felt no matter how long it had been since he had last visited, it could’ve even been because there were hardly any players around. Whatever the reason, Technoblade was thrilled to be back once more.

    The main SMP portal opened onto a man-made platform over lava with bridges arching off in various directions. The occasional ghast flew by and the calls of a piglin sounder echoed in the distance.

    “Okay Chat, we got to get some Netherite. We gotta dig pretty far down and bed mine so any trading will be before that, that way I can practice with the locals and see what’s up nearby.” He nodded decisively to the Chat and headed down towards the main ground by the portal.

    The sounder he had heard earlier was setting up their stands near the lava lake by the portal. He kept his distance for a little while, looking to see if there were any players nearby.

    He didn’t see anyone around and it didn’t look like anyone coming through the portal would be able to see the makeshift market area immediately so he should have some warning in case someone came through while he was trading.

    The boy sighed and unclasped his mask, placing it in his inventory carefully. He picked at the skin around his adolescent tusks absentmindedly. He had quite a bit of gold from Overworld mining and a lot of emeralds in case they accepted that as well. He stepped from the shadows and headed towards the sounder.

    They weren’t a particularly large sounder but big enough to have two brutes. There were at least four piglets and three merchants behind a large table with items spread out from top to bottom. Besides the two brutes watching the entire sounder there was one piglin keeping the runts far from the edge but within the brutes view. There was also a sounder mother speaking with the traders.

    The various sounders he came across during his younger years wandering the Nether had always been kind to him, with a few rare exceptions. They tended to treat him better than players since he looked mostly like a strange piglin. Any difference was typically discarded in favor of being welcoming to strangers. Many had offered him a permanent place but he had refused to accept no matter how kind the invitation. Food was hard to come by on most servers and the Nether was never a kind place to its inhabitants. Even at a young age Techno had known better than to put others at risk for his own safety, so he wandered and occasionally stayed along a sounder for a time, but he never did join.

    Of course he had only wandered the Nether by himself for three of his years, seeing as the first three were spent within his own sounder and then all his years after his sixth he lived in the Overworld.

    So Techno knew to approach without weapons and to ignore the runts entirely. He waited patiently on the outside of the space marked by the brutes, making sure to ignore Chat and keep his desire to fidget with his tusks to a minimum.

    Eventually the sounder mother approached him with a brief wave, he bent his head forward politely and avoided eye contact. “Mother of Sounder, how fare the fire tides?”

    She snuffed, “Stranger Runt by Blood, they warm us still. Have you come for business or aid?”

    His ear flicked in agitation at the continued addressal of Runt but nodded nonetheless, seeing as she could’ve called him Piglet as well, “Merely for business Mother, I have no danger to flee.”

    She chuffed, “We welcome you Stranger Runt.” She stepped to the side and went to speak with the piglets, leaving him to barter on his own.

    Chat applauded him;

    Good!

    Mom is nice.

    Ha, she knows you’re runt still

    EEEEE

    He acknowledged his audience internally but continued towards the merchants silently, except for the occasional chuff or snuffle.

    The merchants were fair with their deals and honest about their excitement to speak with another piglin, even a hybrid, rather than more players with no manners. He was sure they were giving him better trades than they usually would give a newcomer, but he couldn’t be sure if it was because he was the first non-player in awhile, because they thought him a runt, or because he was mindful of his manners.

    Regardless he got the bulk of his supplies easily, getting a hefty amount of golden apples, iron ore, nether gold, and even an enchanted diamond sword that he couldn’t wait to check out.

    Techno left the traders with a genuine, “Wishing you a kind tide!” as he scurried off towards the sounder mother for a farewell.

    “Mother Sounder, your kindness comforts.” he entreated as he approached.

    “Runt Stranger, we hope your winds are safe.” she replied with a smile and waved him out of the area.

----------

    The piglin hybrid left the area with an excitement that he always gained with the arrival of new things to hoard and an interaction with some fellow piglin.

    “Alright Chat, how’d I do then?” he asked amusedly.

    Good

    GG

    Sounder!

    Friends?

    Shinies!

    Mother is kind and soft.

    Technoblade laughed, “Thanks, I guess. No they aren’t our sounder, they can probably be friends but like, it might be awkward cause they clearly don’t see hybrids much. We did get some more shiny stuff, for sure. She was kind, but how would we even know if she was soft?”

    Chat grumbled,

    Seemed soft to me

    Yup sounds right!

    EEEEEEEE

    Techno shook his head and pulled his mask on before looking for a good place to dig for ancient debris. “You all always think the Sounder Mother is soft, I think you’re soft.” He grinned at their disbelief and let the noise of his head wash over him as he mined.

#dsmp #c!technoblade #c!tommyinnit #c!wilbur #c!niki #c!tubbo #technoblades chat #fanfic #fanfiction #kidnoblade #kid!technoblade au #grace is writing

[hua-fei-hua]

i LOVE naming chapters. rip to everyone who has trouble naming things but i’m different

#especially love it when chapter titles in a sequence make a little fun thing #y'know like building / crumbling / rising --> reflects the phoenix cycle #the sun / the moon / the truth --> 'only three things cannot be hidden for long' #searching / for you / forever --> just a neat little phrase c: #although i didn't actually title the orchid epilogue 'forever' it was a strong consideration #huh wow it's only really happened in orchid huh #though i do have at least one chapter title sequence planned for zenith #everything under the sun / the face in the moon / the truth of stars #for a sun / moon / truth thing AND sun / moon / stars thing #god i'm so so so so so so excited for that part of the story it's god a mad plot twist #one time i read a book where the chapter titles were an actual canon part of the story #and if you didn't read them you'd sometimes be a little confused it was SUPER NEAT in my opinion #ever since i wanted to write a fic where each chapter title flows seamlessly into the story #like maybe not confuse you if you don't read them but it would be SUPER COOL #extra added challenge of having the chapter titles tell a mini story in themselves #or only named after song lyrics from a certain band. or both those things at the same time #idk man i just love love love taking on little technical challenges like that in writing #but YES I LOVE TITLING CHAPTERS I ALWAYS HAVE FUN REASONING BEHIND MY CHAPTER TITLES #and also titling fics in general is pretty fun for me! star always tell me i have banger titles c': #and i AGREE like they're not really poetic or anything but i am the kind of person who prefers to catch people's eye through light comedy #rather than moving poetry. like yeah i can come up with some banger lines and thoughts but i wanna catch people off guard with them #i feel like having a poetic title makes readers expect a certain kind of tone in what they're reading and i'm too irreverent to deliver that #花話

[canirove]

Little Poppy | Chapter 1

Summary: My family and the Rice’s have been enemies since forever, and it all started because a Rice ancestor married the woman my ancestor was supposed to marry. The thing is though, that over the years, some members of both families have gotten married. The last one, my grandmother’s sister, and they lived happily ever after. But that will never happen to me. Especially not with the youngest Rice son, Declan.

Author’s note: This is the first thing I’ve ever written with Declan, and I feel a bit nervous tbh, he’s special 😅 It is a spin-off from my other story with Mason, The Lord in Blue, which means it is another period drama. The other one could fit in different moments through history, but I feel like this one suits better during the Regency era, mainly because half way wiriting it all the promo for the new season of Bridgerton started, and I was reading one of the books 😁 Hope you enjoy it, and thank you for reading! 💜

Next chapter

Masterlist

“I can’t believe those bastards are daring to come back!”

“Husband, language!”

“This is my house and I’ll say whatever I want.”

This has been the ongoing “conversation” between my parents since this morning, when we found out that our old neighbors, the Rice family, were coming back for the summer.

“Those traitors should stay where they are wanted, with that woman and all her minions” my father says.

The Rice family actually aren’t traitors of any kind. They just chose to support the Queen during the civil war, while my father and some other lords from the region chose to back up one of the many bastard sons that showed up out of nowhere after the King died. And neither he or his friends are dealing well with the fact that they lost the war and that there is a woman on the throne.

“Don’t they have a palace where they’ve been living all these years? Why do they have to come here, to a smaller house?”

That’s another thing my father can’t deal with. Lord Rice was one of the Queen’s generals, and after the war ended, she gave him a title and a little palace close to the city, while he got nothing and our family has struggled a little to keep up.

“They are a bunch of traitors and cowards. They’ve always been, for centuries” my father continues.

Apparently, our families have hated each other since forever, because a Rice ancestor married the woman my ancestor was supposed to marry. But the thing is that, over the years, some members of both families have gotten married. The last one, my grandmother’s sister, and they lived happily ever after up in the north.

“So daughter, you better stay away from all of them” my father says. “Especially from their sons. Though I’ve heard that only the youngest one is coming with them.”

The youngest one. Declan. Despite being a few years younger than me, he was always around, and we couldn’t stand each other. I would always call him Deccy and make fun of his odd haircut and how weird he moved. He would call me little poppy. Little because he’s always been a head taller than me I guess. But poppy? I have never been able to find the reason behind it, and that has always bothered me.

“Have you heard me, daughter?” my father asks, making me go back to the present.

“Yes, father, I’ve heard you. I won’t be anywhere close to them.”

“Good” he says.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

The Rice family have been back for three days, but we haven’t seen them yet. Mainly because my father hasn’t allowed us to leave the house.

“Please, husband, it’s just a walk to the river” my mother pleads. “It’s a lovely day. Let the girl go out.”

“What if she sees one of those people, uh? I remember how that little devil used to pull her by the hair, and how she would cry for hours when he said mean things to her” he says.

“We were kids, father. He wouldn’t dare to do that now. He knows that his honor would be in danger.”

“Fine” he finally says. “But be back home before it gets dark.”

“I will. Thank you, father” I say while giving him a little kiss on the cheek.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

I’m sitting under a tree next to the river, enjoying my book, when I hear a weird noise next to me. Someone or something is behind the bushes.

“Hello?” I say, my hand already on my boot. During the war my father taught my mother and I how to defend ourselves, and since then I’ve always carried a knife with me.

“Hello?” I say again, standing up, my knife already out. The bushes stop moving, and the noise is gone. I let out a sigh of relief, but before I’m able to put the knife back in my boot, something jumps from behind the bushes. A dog. The biggest dog I have ever seen. He is staring at me with big black eyes, his fangs starting to show.

“Easy there, boy” I say. I try to sound calm, but my voice comes out as a whisper. The dog is getting closer, and I don’t know what to do. I have a knife in my hand, but how can I use it against such a huge animal? I could run too, but with these boots? And this dress? He would catch me the moment I turn my back to him.

My brain is going through all the possibilities I have when a very loud whistle sounds somewhere. The dog lifts his head, alert. The whistle sounds again, this time closer. The dog turns to his left, from where it supposedly is coming. Suddenly, a rock hits him and the dog goes back to the bushes, and I can hear him running.

“Are you alright, my lady?” someone says. I’m still looking at the bushes, making sure the dog isn’t coming back. “Little poppy?”

I turn the moment I hear those words. There is a young man standing a few steps away from me, but it can’t be him. It just can’t.

“Little poppy? Is that really you?”

“Declan?” I finally manage to say. I can’t believe it’s him. This man can’t be the little boy who bullied me as a kid.

“You know my actual name? I thought it was only Deccy for you” he says, smiling while running a hand through his hair. His hair. The odd haircut is gone and now it is the most glorious hair I have ever seen. “Are you going to say something? Hello? Maybe thank you? Here is a suggestion: thank you, Lord Rice, for saving my life and sending that dog away. You are the bravest man this land has ever seen.”

“Shut up, Deccy” I say, coming back to reality

“Oh, there she is. I’ve missed you, little poppy” he says with a smile, my heart stupidly skipping a bit when I see it.

“Whatever” I say as I turn to grab my book, my hands slightly shaking.

“I think you are forgetting something.”

“I’m not thanking you for throwing a rock to a dog.”

“I was talking about this” he says while playing with my knife.

“Give that back to me. Now.”

“This?” he says, raising his eyebrows. That expression makes his eyes look bigger, and they are some kind of blue? Green? Both? I can’t believe I had never noticed how beautiful they are.

“Give me my knife back. I’m not asking again.”

“A lady should not be going around with a thing like this” he says.

“A lady needs to carry a thing like that to defend herself from thugs like you” I reply.

“You haven’t changed a bit, little poppy” he says, smiling again, and I feel my face blushing. Why am I blushing? “I hope to see you again, my lady. And soon” he says while bowing. I just roll my eyes and turn my back to him. “And don’t forget you owe me a thank you” he says as I leave.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

On my way home, I can’t stop thinking about what just happened. About the huge dog. About Declan, Deccy, showing up from nowhere and probably saving my life. And obviously, about how much he’s changed. He still is a head taller than me, but he isn’t the awkward kid I knew anymore. He is a man. And a very handsome one.

#declan rice #declan rice x reader #declan rice imagine #football imagine #football fanfic

[atlabeth]

everything happens for a reason part one - zuko x fem!reader

I am not your concern 

masterlist | part 2 

summary: as a servant in the fire nation, you’ve learned that life is often unfair. but as you venture through a tumultuous relationship with a certain prince, you come to learn a very tricky lesson: everything happens for a reason.

a/n: im so excited about this guys you dont even know. i have so much planned and i hope you all love it as much as i do - just for reference, in this first chapter y/n is 9 and zuko is 10

wc: 2.3k

warning(s): mentions of a raid, reader and zuko both being little shits lmao

chapter title comes from not your concern by the hush sound! 

Y/N sprawled out on the grass and sighed contentedly as the sun shined down on her and her mother. Today was easier than most as they had been given the day off, an occasion that was rare in the royal palace. She closed her eyes and breathed in the fresh scent aerating their surroundings. Her senses were blessed with a mix of sea salt and fire lilies, an ever present reminder of the two worlds she walked in.

“Y/N,” her mother chided as she glanced down at her daughter from her sewing. “You shouldn’t lay in the grass like that. You know how hard those stains are to get out; I don’t need even more work on my plate.”

“Yes, mother,” she sighed as she sat up with mock exasperation. “I just feel like I should take advantage of this! We spend all day inside, and now that we’re out here you’re worried about things like stained clothes.” Y/N pushed herself to her feet and spread her arms out as she spun in a small circle. “Life is short, and I already spend all of it sewing and healing. Don’t you think I deserve some grass stains?”

“Did you find your way into the poetry books again?” she joked. “Of course I think you should have fun, but you know how things are here. I’m just trying to keep you safe.”

She continued to twirl, the soft breeze a welcome sensation on her skin. “I know, I know, but you don’t need to worry! I can—”

“Dear, watch where you’re going!”

Her mother’s warning didn’t reach her in time, a fact that became known to Y/N as she collided into the boy in front of her. A small gasp escaped her as recognition filled her now wide eyes.

“Prince Zuko!” she exclaimed, nervous hands finding their positions as she bowed. “Please forgive me for the accident, I didn’t realize you were there.”

Y/N had never spoken to the young prince directly — she mainly shadowed her mother while she did her work around the palace or honed her healing abilities under the watchful eye of Rika, their most skilled healer — but she knew enough to understand that she was to never disrespect the royal family in any way.

“Don’t worry,” he said with a small smile, alleviating the tension that had built up in her shoulders. “I’m sorry too, I wasn’t paying attention either. I actually came here for some help.” As she straightened her back, she noticed the bundle of fabric he was holding. “Are you Kura?”

“Oh, no. That’s my mother.” She pointed behind her where her mother greeted the prince with a respectful nod and smile of her own. “Did you come to get something fixed? She’s the best seamstress in all of the Four Nations.”

“My daughter flatters me,” Kura chucked. “What is it that you require, Prince Zuko?”

“She’s right, actually.” He held up the bundle of cloth which Y/N now recognized as one of the many outfits he owned. She didn’t consider herself a jealous person, but the prince’s extensive wardrobe was an exception to that rule. She had one set uniform for her work supplied by the Fire Nation, and a threadbare set for everything else that her mother had bought for her after saving up what little copper they had to spare. Y/N didn’t mind it too much as she was able to practice her sewing whenever the seams broke, but she was sure that her handiwork made up more of the outfit than the original by now.

“I tore one of the sleeves while I was training with Azula,” Zuko expressed with a frown. “I showed it to my mother, and she said that Kura would be able to fix it. I had to go through every single servant to find you, so I really hope you can. ”

Kura set her current project down and took the cloth from the prince, examining it with the skillful eye of a seamstress before meeting his eyes with another smile. “Of course, dear. I should have it ready for you by tomorrow; my daughter will deliver it to your quarters around midday.”

“Do it well,” he demanded. “I can’t focus on my training if my clothes are falling apart.”

“Hey!” she spoke up, scowling as she crossed her arms. It was like every shred of sense Y/N had disappeared the moment he talked down to her mother. “This is our day off, so you should be thankful that my mother is taking time out of her day to do this for you. Be nicer to her.”

“Y/N!” her mother scolded, her tone frantically apologetic as she turned back to the prince. “Please, forgive my daughter. She speaks her mind far too often, she doesn’t mean any disrespect.”

“No, you’re right.” A thoughtful expression found its way onto the young boy’s features, his eyes trained on her own displeasure. “My father always talks that way to the servants and I guess it came off on me. I’m sorry. It’s not nice.”

“Apology accepted,” Y/N said reluctantly.

“Thank you for your help. I’ll make sure to tell all my friends about your work.” The young prince smiled and walked off, though not without a curious second glance at the girl who righted his wrong.

As soon as the prince was out of range, Kura began to berate her daughter. “Y/N, by now you have to understand that under no circumstances may you ever speak to a member of the royal family like that! Do you know what kind of punishment you could’ve gotten if anyone else was around to hear that?”

She sighed and settled back on the ground, plucking a blade of grass from the ground. “I know, mother, but he needs to learn manners, prince or not!”

“That’s not how it works here. Our job is to serve the royal family without question. Sometimes they say mean things, but we can’t do anything about it. Apologies are not yours to demand or accept.”

“That’s not fair,” she mumbled as she wrapped the strand of grass around her finger. “Back home I could say whatever I wanted.”

“I know, honey, I know. But we’re not at home anymore, so the rules there don’t apply. We have to follow the rules that are put in place here. Can you promise that you’ll do that for me?”

“Yes, mother.” It was a phrase that seemed to always be at the tip of her tongue now that constant apologies were littered throughout her days, usually accompanied by a sigh.

“I miss home,” The murmured sentiment was almost too soft for Kura to hear and her heart sank. Her daughter’s gaze was trained on the ground, idle fingers tapping against her legs, and she put a momentary pause to her sewing with a sigh.

“Dear, don’t you have a healing session today with Rika?”

“You know I don’t,” she grumbled. “It’s my day off, which no one seems to remember.”

“Y/N.” Kura’s voice was more firm and she now understood that it wasn’t so much a suggestion as a demand. “I think you should pay Rika a visit.”

She heaved an exasperated sigh and stood up in a far more exaggerated gesture than necessary. “Alright. I’ll see you later tonight, mother.” And as Y/N began her walk back to the palace, a sour feeling brewed in her chest.

Kura watched on, unable to prevent the fear that permeated her thoughts. They were fortunate that the young prince was generous, but along with his mother they might’ve been the only two who shared those views in the royal family. She hated having to constantly admonish her daughter — the girl was too young to constantly live in fear, especially having already been through so much — but in the Fire Nation they couldn’t afford to do anything less. A spitfire girl like her daughter was constantly treading on thin ice, and it was all she could do to keep her safe.

Kura feared the day when she wasn’t there to protect her.

-

After a short walk that consisted of muttering things to herself and taking her anger out on the pebbles unfortunate enough to be in her path, Y/N found herself back at the palace. She let herself into a side entrance meant only for servants and set on her way to the infirmary when she collided with someone else — an apology was already on the tip of her tongue when she recognized it was Prince Zuko once more. She truly had rotten luck.

Y/N shot quick glances around to ensure that they were alone, then lowered her voice just for extra security. “My mom says I’m not supposed to talk to you like this, but I don’t care. Just because you’re the prince doesn’t mean you can just go around bumping into people!” she whispered angrily.

“But— you were the one who bumped into me the first time!”

She could feel her face heat up from embarrassment and she crossed her arms. “Just— whatever! Do you want something or do you just like popping up in places you're not supposed to be?”

“I guess I just wanted to talk to you,” Zuko shrugged. “I’ve never really seen you around before, and you’re interesting.”

Y/N scrutinized him trying to find out if he was tricking her somehow, but after staring at him for a solid ten seconds she finally caved. “Fine,” she said, already beginning to walk. “But you’d better make it fast. I have to get to a healing session.”

He took a few quick steps to catch up to her and frowned. “I’m the prince. Technically I could order you to stop and you would have to listen.”

“Yeah, well when it’s just the two of us, you’re just another boy. I don’t have time to talk to boys for hours.”

His brows creased for a moment as he thought about it, then ultimately shrugged once more. “Okay. You said you were going to a healing session- does that mean you’re a waterbender?”

She nodded, and Zuko waited for her to explain further. He heaved a sigh, realizing that he was going to have to carry this conversation. “Well.. what’s a waterbender doing in the Fire Nation?”

She fixed him with a puzzled look. “I’m a servant. That’s why I’m here.”

“I know that,” he frowned. “But most of the servants here are from the Fire Nation, and there are hardly any around your age. I’m just trying to get to know you better.”

Y/N sighed heavily — she now knew that the child prince of the Fire Nation had zero sense of boundaries, and if she wanted to get him off her back she had to answer to his satisfaction. “My mother is a waterbender from the Northern Tribe. She left home when she was young to travel the world and help who she could with her healing, and eventually she fell in love with an earthbender. That was my father — they ended up marrying and settling down in his village where they had me a few years later. Last month, my village was raided by the Fire Nation, and my mother and I were captured after they discovered we were waterbenders. And now I’m here, being annoyed by a prince.”

Zuko frowned once more — it seemed if he continued hanging out with this girl the expression would be stuck permanently on his face — and he suddenly felt ashamed for pushing. “I’m really sorry,” he muttered. “I had no idea.”

She heaved another sigh and shook her head. “Yeah, well they probably keep a lot of the bad things they do from you. It’s easier to send raids to destroy families when your children don’t know.”

“What happened to your father?” he questioned.

Y/N’s body stiffened, and she had never been more thankful to see the infirmary door. “Save your questions for next time,” she grumbled.

Zuko’s eyes lit up, her earlier stumble going unnoticed, and a small smile found its way across his lips. “There’s gonna be a next time?”

She managed to cover up her own growing smile with an ambivalent shrug. “As long as you don’t bump into me again.” Y/N opened the door and gave him a polite parting nod before disappearing inside.

“Good afternoon, Master Rika,” she said with a small bow. “I know this is unexpected, but my mother insisted that I come here to—”

“Let me guess,” the older woman interrupted with a raised brow. “Kura got tired of you and sent you here to annoy me instead?”

Y/N chuckled and rolled her eyes good-naturedly as she pushed the sleeves of her tunic up to her elbows. “When have I ever annoyed you?”

“That’s a question you don’t want me to answer,” she joked as she rummaged through the closet to get supplies. “Besides, what was that smile for? Meet a boy on your day off? A girl?”

Her eyes widened momentarily and she felt the heat rush to her cheeks intensely. “I don’t ask you about your life while we heal, you shouldn’t ask about mine!”

Zuko, who had been eavesdropping by the door in an extremely un-covert fashion, felt an even bigger smile. The girl was prickly as a cactus, but he found himself strangely drawn to her — not in spite of it, but because of it. He was so used to anyone he talked to outside of his immediate family and friends bending at the knee to fulfill his every will, and it was exhausting at times. But this girl — Y/N, as he had learned — was the complete opposite.

He started to walk away, sure that he was late for some kind of session of his own. Zuko found himself thinking of the glimpse of a smile he got, already finding himself scheming up ways to make it return.

And despite her request, he was almost certain he would try to bump into her again.

#zuko x reader #zuko x you #zuko fic #zuko #avatar the last airbender #avatar #atla #a:tla #avatar fic #atla fic #self insert #reader insert #avatar x reader #sadie writes

[fishstyx]

featuring. college au!gojo satoru x fem!reader x geto suguru

wc. 9.2k

genre. dark/taboo, smut, angst

tw. 18+ nsfw, non/dubcon, toxic/abusive relationships, manipulation, victim blaming, dry humping, penetration, masturbation, irresponsible practice of bdsm, hair pulling, mild exhibitionism, size kink (both 6’3”, gojo can lift you), implied corruption kink, degradation, creampie, intoxication/alcohol, incel behavior, misogyny, dacryphilia

synopsis.

“Parading around as my personal fucktoy get you that excited?” he starts with a smirk, wide eyes drinking up your sharp inhale as if it were his own, inspiring pinpricks of heat to rise to your cheeks.

He hooks the hem of your skirt with his thumbs when he’s met with silence, pulls you from the doorframe just far away that he can release the elastic with a snap, silent snigger on his lips when it elicits a small sound of surprise from you. You nod in response, frantic bob of your head drawing a low growl from his chest and a “that’s right, I know what’s best for my pet,” as he lifts you off your feet and carries you to the bedroom.

notes. title inspo: love the way you lie (eminem, rihanna). you’re dating gojo, a charming, manipulative, self-entitled bastard. geto is, of course, his best friend, written as an aloof, self-righteous, bitter incel. please stay safe, read all the warnings, and enjoy. this is the most personal fic i have to offer. it draws from not-so-savory past relationships... i hope it remains the only testament to them. <3

links. broken toys. (sequel)

You were stunned into silence when he first suggested it.

And how couldn’t you be? Any sane person would, or at least should, have recoiled at the proposition. Isn’t that right?

But he makes it seem so harmless, so innocent, somehow. Like it’s no big deal, far from uncharacteristic for either of you—just a walk around campus, nothing new there. He tells you this like you’re overreacting, slow on the uptake, taking far too long to reach a final decision. The rational part of your mind says it’s out of the option. But the irrational part is louder, all-consuming, domineering.

The irrational part says, out of all your options, it’s the only viable one.

“Come on, babygirl. What’s the harm of trying it out once?”

It’s always this way, always has been. He takes your hands in his with a dramatic swell, the sparkle in his eyes big and bright and gleaming, and you bite back the urge to pull away. You would break your gaze if you could, if he didn’t look so determined, if that twinkling blue galaxy wasn’t sweltering with hope and adoration. But you can’t, and he does, and it just about swallows you whole. 

The fact of the matter is, Gojo Satoru wants to take you out on a leash today.

Never mind today; he wanted this yesterday, the day before that, and the day before that, never one to shy away from his desires as you deliberated the entire time. By now he’s asked you to do this one, single thing for him far more times than you can count—initially playing it off as a joke, slowly feeling you out, gradually seeing how far he could push and pull until you explicitly told him no.

Except it’s never just one, single thing with him, and you—with the way you dance around the topic, hoping to give him the illusion that you might give in, or perhaps yourself the illusion of control—you never say no.

A simple line of defense, yes. Even you agree with that. But its execution? Around Gojo, it seems anything but.

Geto would beg to differ.

Geto.

The only other person privy to your latest concerns. The only other person you can bear knowing. And he’d be disappointed if only he could see you now.

Who are you kidding? He’s already disappointed.

A vague outline was all you gave him. A vague outline, you knew, not-so-deep down in your heart, was all you dare tell him—or anyone at all, really.

Because, sure, you’ve adopted a rather experimental lifestyle around Gojo, but that was supposed to be private. Reserved for behind closed doors, you thought, until now.

You were right in that the brooding brunette didn’t need every last grueling detail of Gojo’s newest request. He’s his best friend; he’s seen you at every single step of your whirlwind relationship together. The fervid beginnings, when the two of you couldn’t be physically separated, let alone in different rooms from each other. The ups and the downs, each one more intense than the last, each one blowing up in your faces before you ran back into each other’s arms and kissed and made up. You knew that much.

What you didn’t foresee, however, even as you recounted your latest grievance to him, was that nothing you were saying was new. To Geto it was regurgitated rhetoric, distorted and distressed, yesterday’s news—whereas you saw it as a unique conquest, a new hurdle to overcome.

“It almost amazes me how you can come up with so many new ways to say the same old thing,” he said, slanted eyes dull with apathy as they panned away from yours. “Almost.”

You could only choke on your words in response.

What Geto told you next is now a hushed murmur in the back of your head. It reverberates against your skull, pinballing against the walls of all that empty space and showing no signs of slowing down. It tells you to just say the magic word and it’ll be over, every last bit of Gojo’s borderline demands, washing away all of that white noise if only you’d breathe some life into it. That one word, the one that plagues your mind night and day, it begins to materialize upon your lips, poised and ready to spring into action, flexing on the tip of your tongue as if it were a wind-up toy. 

Just say it already.

Just say no.

But you’re always holding your tongue around the both of them, together or alone, whether on the bony roof of your mouth or its flexible, fleshy floor, biting your words back for an eternity and more. Perhaps you were only faking yourself out, simply going through—no, barely feinting at the motions so you can come back to this chapter of your life and say that you tried. The moment passes, the pause your boyfriend gave at the sight of your mouth ajar long over, his words beginning to bleed into your reality once more.

And he’s saying, “I bought such a cute collar for you, too,” voice rising and falling with lovelorn disappointment. You can’t help but wince at his gentle timbre, all too painfully aware that such a small investment is far from the root of Gojo’s displeasure. You can hear it in his tone, too, how his carefree singsong runs steely as his thoughts begin to wander, settling on a resigned indifference.

So you wander, too. Tear your eyes from his in search of something, anything that might lend a reason to divert your gaze. Your fingers encircle white leather before you realize it, turning the thin strip over in absentminded idle, silver o-ring jingling in place. The metallic clank doesn’t go unnoticed.

“You should at least try it on before I return it, don’t you think?” 

And you can’t find it in your heart to disagree, stiff choker tightening around your neck as he fumbles with the clasp. You trace the sanded edges before latching a finger—two fingers—beneath the leather material. 

Perfect. 

Perfectly irritating. Irritatingly perfect. It sits in the center of your neck without slipping, just snug enough that you can still breathe easy, comfortable and almost disturbingly so. 

“Well?”

White lashes flutter idly as he considers your reflection as if studying it. And with the hint of a smile behind you, large hands on your waist in the mirror’s image, you start to think for the first time that the collar really is a pretty number, and a shame and a waste to throw away. 

Because he looks so pleased now, creased cheeks and crinkled eyelids as he smooths his palms over your hips, like maybe you’re the prettiest thing he’s ever held. Because instead of the pouting you’ve come to expect, the declarations that you’re “no fun,” or that you’re “overreacting,” or that you need to “relax” you’ve come to accept, he simply brushes your hair to the side and rests his cheek against yours, warm breath just about tickling your chin.

It begs the question.

“Will you love me more if I do this for you?”

And it sends his eyes into a frenzied state, hungry void for pupils swallowing crystal irises with unabating greed, all frisky lashes and overeager ridges. 

Ideally, he’d take your hands in his, tell you that that wasn’t his intention at all and beg for your forgiveness. Ideally, he’d hold you close, say that he loves you no matter what and promise to never push you this far again. You know all of these self-evident truths and more, yet you still can’t stop your heart from skipping a beat when he tells you, voice hushed in awe, triumph washing over you in spite of yourself:

“Of course I will.”

It’s different when you actually go through with it.

You try not to regret your decision immediately when you’re chained to Gojo’s hand in public, dog leash swinging in the wind as you round the campus loop. What a waste of a beautiful day for you to be hanging your head low, tips of your ears burning with shame. You don’t even believe that you’ve agreed to this yourself as you search the faces ahead of you for a trace of anyone you might know, pushing down the urge to cross your fingers behind your back.

But Gojo himself? He loves the lingering stares to tiny little pieces, practically basks in the attention as he pushes his sunglasses back so they rest above his hairline. Airy tufts of white spill over the tinted lenses, billowy strands coming to rest upon his forehead. When you think of it as your gorgeous boyfriend showing you off, it makes it all a little more bearable, has you standing up a little straighter. But your heart nearly stops every time you think you recognize the passerby, and eventually you dread the sight of absolutely anyone in the distance, for fear they will finally be a person who knows and calls you by name.

Gojo takes quick notice, realizes you hardly want to take another step in this undignified manner, and thinks to himself that there must be a better way to go about the arrangement.

His solution is to turn your walk of shame into a crawl of shame.

“On your fours,” he says, delighted when you actually crouch to the pavement, thankful for an excuse to hide your face. He ruffles your hair and slaps your hand away when you try to pull your skirt down, enamored by the way it rides up and reveals the lacy material below. You suppose it’s a trade-off you’ll just have to take, and in a confession that gets caught up your throat, you don’t wholly mind it: the pairs of eyes you can feel burning through you, though real or imagined you can’t be entirely sure. It makes you wonder if anyone wishes they were Gojo. It makes you wonder if anyone wishes they were you.

In the corner of your eye, you think you see someone sneaking a picture, but you don’t dare lift your head for a closer look. Instead you track the ground for rubble, hoping you’ll get away without scraping your knees, shaky line for a pair of lips as micro cuts come to crisscross your legs.

The rest of the walk is spent with you crawling the ground, light breeze tickling your backside, every part of you flaunted as if you’re Gojo’s most prized possession. You had better be, you think to yourself as you circle back to his building, and luckily enough, he’s about to make good on that expectation. 

Maybe it’s the collar around your neck, or maybe it’s the surge of relief you get from returning, but by the time you meet the first glass door, you’re aching for whatever Gojo’s planned next.

He’s moving on predatory instinct the second you’ve set foot in his apartment, flushed lips curling around your own as soon as he pulls you up from all fours. A hollow knock sounds behind you as your heels strike the door, lower lip traced with a wet warmth until you’re gracious enough to grant him full access. He easily cages you with his entire frame, pressing that cute pink muscle in your mouth flat before writhing his own to the rhythm of his heartbeat, booming and ricocheting and alive.

It’s not nearly enough for either of you, of course, his hands beginning to roam all over your pliable form, all over his property, skirting along your outline and creeping closer still to the innermost curves of your contour cutout. Flitting fingers brush against your navel, dancing lower as you suck your tummy in by reflex, stopping right before the tingling bundle of nerves that just might explode as soon as he touches them. 

But he takes pause instead, presses his forehead flush against yours, jewel colored eyes waiting on you with intent. You swear they can see right through you, even sheathed behind a cluster of wild white lashes, gauge everything there is to know about you faster than you can say “blue.” The moment freezes over, two bodies still and unmoving until you suddenly remember your need for air, gasping when you realize you’ve been holding your breath. 

“Parading around as my personal fucktoy get you that excited?” he starts with a smirk, wide eyes drinking up your sharp inhale as if it were his own, inspiring pinpricks of heat to rise to your cheeks.

He hooks the hem of your skirt with his thumbs when he’s met with silence, pulls you from the doorframe just far away that he can release the elastic with a snap, silent snigger on his lips when it elicits a small sound of surprise from you. You nod in response, frantic bob of your head drawing a low growl from his chest and a “that’s right, I know what’s best for my pet,” as he lifts you off your feet and carries you to the bedroom.

Your body bounces back from the force with which he tosses you into the mattress, giggles erupting from your throat when he climbs atop of you, tugging at your leash. A thin stripe of saliva trails up and down the column of your neck, laving intermittently over the leather that encases your flesh. A coppery taste, of earth and salt and smoke, dances on his tongue as his front teeth sink into the stretch of your collarbone, nipping and sucking at the delicate flesh. You sink into the bed as you ease into his touch, but he doesn’t give you much time to get comfortable.

“Touch yourself, then,” he says, “if you like to be watched that much.” 

It almost sounds like a suggestion, especially with the way in which he uses the lightest touch to brush the stray hairs from your forehead, but you know better than that. Your fingers fly to the wet patch on your panties, thin material almost see-through with your slick, working the fiber flat against dampened skin. An echo of a chuckle reverberates throughout the room as he watches you, undoubtedly pleased by the way in which the fabric clings to your already dripping folds. 

Large hands have your legs spread wide open by the time you’ve traced the outline of your clit, your little show put on full display for him. They stay pressed against your thighs as you venture loose, round motions around your sensitive nub. Too timid. You tighten the circles into a coiled spiral, mustering the courage to go harder, faster, the friction of cotton against delicate skin drawing small mewls and sputters out of your trembling form. The delayed relief is sweet, your arousal crying into the pads of your fingers as you pick up the speed. The image burns itself into his brain, watchful eye unfaltering as you play yourself to your heart’s content.

The very air itself seems to buzz as you hold the other end of his gaze, thick fingers running along your sides as you start to roll your hips into the palm of your hand. He’s bent over you with the twitch of his pants, too worked up to remain a bystander any longer as he blows and sucks up your neck. The open-mouthed kisses only hasten the buildup, sensation shotgunning down your body from the surface of your nape.

But the coil in your core knots itself far too early for your taste, and you reel your hand back right before you can realize your peak. You opt to drag a lone finger down your slit instead, afraid that with too much pressure, you’ll come undone before Gojo has the chance to get his fill. 

Too late, too slow; he takes notice of your negligence immediately, eyes darkening at the pitiful way your hand skitters with abashment. He pulls away from the crook of your neck to get a good look at your dwindling handiwork, smirking to himself when you shrink in response.

“Having a little trouble there?” 

His voice is deceptively singsong as he takes your sluggish hand in his, guiding your knuckles back to that aching button that has you arching your back and curling your toes. He repeats the motion, half a mind to force an orgasm out of you right then and there when suddenly, a whimper—yours—sends his eyes darting back towards your own.

“No, not like this,” you say with strained breath, and he quirks an eyebrow in response, working your fingers into the fabric despite the interruption. “I want more, I need…” your voice trails off, a sorry attempt at stalling.

“Need what?” he asks as he catches on, shit-eating grin somehow audible without you even looking. You don’t know how he does it, how he locks his desires up as you squirm underneath him, waiting ever so innocently for a proper response.

“Need, need you,” you say under your breath, and he cocks an eyebrow, a clear sign of an underwhelming response. 

“Oh? I couldn’t quite catch that, princess.”

As if.

“I need you inside of me. Please, claim this filthy cunt,” you whine, determined to play, determined to win. Your hips buck into your interlaced fingers, searching desperately for the one word that’ll send him over the edge and finding it as the leather accessory rides up your neck—as if to remind you of its existence—“Master.”

And it does, it sends a jolt of heat to his groin, has him kicking his pants off and pinning your wrists into the sheets. It’s got him surging with primal need, tugging the pathetic mess of your soaked panties to the side with limitless hunger.

Because even though he’s drawn many names from your lips before, they’ve always been ones he’s insisted on, ones he’s downright pestered you about. Even the simplest “Satoru” was, admittedly, a struggle to pry out of you the very first time you got tangled in his sheets; you shielded your eyes then, cheeks burning and voice low as you whispered it in his ear. And look at you now, sprawled out beneath him as you edge yourself with a hand steeped in your own concoction, begging for his cock with that delicious nickname of your own admission, and it rings throughout his head like an addictive melody.

Master.

Master.

Master.

You can hardly recognize the noises he fucks out of you for the remainder of the night. He showers you with an unsavory slew of awful names, phrases you’ve never even heard aloud before, tells you that you’re his “freaky cocksleeve” and a “bitch in heat” as he jerks your leash without warning. And that’s exactly what you are, twitching for him like an animal as he screws you senseless, the most guttural of responses rising from your throat as he asks:

“Who do you belong to?”

And of course you respond, between labored pants, “You, master,” muscles taut as you fight for air, fingernails scrambling for purchase on his back but finding absolutely none.

It’s not until you’re entangled in a breathless mass that he pulls your head into his lap, strokes your cheeks and coos that you’ve been a good fucking girl, a thick mixture of his seed seeping from your gaping hole.

Morning always comes when you least expect it, sneaking up on you and peeking through the blinds before you’re ready to get going.

Gojo’s still passed out cold when you creep out of bed, only the most languid of movements used to pry yourself out of the mattress as your arms and legs ache for need of rest. The dull pain humbles you, delayed post-nut clarity finally hitting as you rub into your bleary eyes.

It feels like you’ve been struck by a train.

Your gait is but a tiptoe as you stalk towards his dresser, trembling hands slowly rummaging for something, anything that can provide you some cover. Your classes are starting soon, and whether his are, too, or whether he’s simply skipping out today, you know better than to rouse him from his toil-induced slumber. 

It’s nearly inaudible, the sound of the door closing behind you, clank of metal but a whisper as the soles of your shoes kiss up carpeted floor. You’ve left it unlocked, just the way your boyfriend likes it, a small assembly of what you hope he’ll recognize as breakfast perched upon the kitchen table—the last traces of your visit left behind in a neat and tidy little package.

Your eyes find Geto’s once you turn down the hallway, small black beads peering into yours before taking a lap around the block to assess the damage. He must not like what he sees, this tousled morning-after apparition, faint patches of indigo and violet creeping out from under your—no, Gojo’s—oversized sweatshirt, because it’s a solemn sigh that hits your ears next and not a “good morning” or even a simple “hey” that acknowledges you. 

Because he knows your average person wouldn’t notice the marks, too sheltered by all that thick cotton riding up your neck, purposefully pulled up just far enough that you wouldn’t see them unless you were looking. He knows your average person couldn’t have the slightest idea how you really scratched up your knees, pointillistic constellations of reddish purple threatening, however empty that threat is, to inch up your thighs. He scoffs.

“What do you even see in him?”

The words cloud the air before he’s completely aware of them, surprising the both of you as they surface.

You open and close your mouth like a fish out of water: for starters he’s charming, engaging, lively and free-spirited. He’s beautiful and he adores you, you want to say, but even though you have all the correct phrases picked out, all strung together in the same time and place, they don’t seem to roll off your tongue quite right.

You seem so tired, forced laugh falling short where it should flutter out of your mouth, the usual cotton candy you spout crystallizing before it can materialize.

“I could ask the same of you.”

It traipses out of your mouth before you can give it permission, easing itself into the atmosphere before sinking like a stone. Truthfully you don’t care to hear an answer, if only to avoid giving your own. You usher yourself out, pushing yourself past the towering wall of a human and stalking down the nearest stairwell. 

Gojo knows just how to toy with your pride. But Geto? Geto knows how to slash it down to shreds. 

The silence is deafening.

Geto sighs once you’re out of earshot, turning his heel to continue his trajectory. If anything, he didn’t want to run into you today, either. He cringes at the small collection you’ve no doubt assembled yourself, of iced matcha and a granola bar, staring him in the face as he stalks into the apartment. For some reason it only feeds into his mounting dread, the rising unease of what he might find waiting for him in the bedroom. 

So he raps the bedroom door with his knuckles instead of barging in like he normally does, hoping in vain that he can get its sole inhabitant to lumber out himself. But of course Gojo doesn’t make it easy, letting out an obnoxiously loud yawn before stretching his lanky limbs with an equally obnoxious groan.

“You said to swing by this morning,” Geto half-yells, half says to himself, already prepared to turn tail and leave. He’s honestly surprised when he gets a legible response instead of the hungover mumbles he’s grown used to.

“Oh, that? Come in, it’s unlocked,” Gojo calls out, each syllable punctuated with tardiness. So Geto braces himself, puffing his chest out before giving the doorknob a firm handshake, stepping deeper into the belly of the beast. 

Geto was prepared to see many things when he walked through that door. Something like lipstick stains and flavored condoms, S&M paddles and ribbed dildos. Instead he’s met with something completely other, the evidence already cleared away. Whatever late-night exploits you enjoyed are long gone, not a trace left behind by now, privy only to a grown man slumped over the edge of his mattress, grabbing around under the bedframe. 

“Ahh, got it!”

With sleepy eyes Gojo lifts his head and presents to Geto the chrome colored box he’s fished out. It’s small and compact and ridiculously outdated, a conspicuous red button jutting out of its interface. He holds it up to his friend’s face, and the device finally registers.

A voice recorder.

“What, they still make those things?”

Geto schools his features easily, wiping the shock off his face before it can even materialize. It’s not exactly a lie; he knows he shouldn’t be surprised at all that Gojo has kept such an antiquated device for the occasion. 

“You act as if you’ve never seen one before.”

It’s a smirk that’s plastered all over their faces now, one that nearly matches the one across from the other, and knowingly so. The two burst into laughter at the ridiculousness of it all, Gojo slapping his knee and Geto clutching onto his sides. They’re not sure who starts it, but one of them high fives the other.

Girls like you are oh so naïve.

Your wish is granted for about a week total.

Gojo keeps his promise, of loving you more and loving you better, throughout the remaining weekdays. 

He takes you out for brunch, picks you up after class, and best of all, doesn’t ask anything more of you, doesn’t ask for anything better.

He opts to shower you with gifts instead, of stuffed animals and chocolates and bite-sized amenities, insisting that you take them all, no strings attached. Your nightstand overflows with his presents, mismatched tokens that remind you of his affection even when you’re not together. And although neither of you explicitly verbalize it, it seems like his way of apologizing. Silently.

You whole-heartedly accept.

This is the Satoru I fell in love with, you think to yourself as he pets your head one sunlit afternoon, grogginess setting in after a particularly big meal. You nuzzle into his lap and relish in the soft filtered light, sprawled out on your side on the living room sofa. He has you gazing upwards at a tap of the shoulder, all softened eyes and unkempt locks of hair, the smell of sandalwood and fresh dry cleaning enveloping you entirely as he leans in for a faint forehead kiss.

“What’s up?” you half ask, half mumble, eyelids heavy with sleep.

“Just wanted to see my princess’s face,” he says, a fleeting grin on his rosy lips. A hollow thud sounds as you play-punch him in the chest, but you roll over from your side to look up at him anyway.

“You happy now?”

“Overjoyed.” 

The two of you lock eyes, slivers of white hair undoing themselves from behind his ear as your breath syncs up slowly, gradually. He stares at you with such longing that you would think you weren’t laying right atop of him, and you struggle to hold your ground. 

“Are you—”

“Yup.”

You groan, eyes overcome with on demand prickling. “No thank you,” you proclaim as you squeeze them shut, uninterested in indulging him a staring contest. Moments pass and your eyes stay closed, a tide of tiredness washing over you. You loosen up, head rolling back as you allow yourself to relax. 

Big mistake. He takes it as an invitation for his hands to descend upon you, attacking your sides in an attempt to tickle, and you jerk away instantly.

“What the—Sato, cut it out!” You bat his arms away, one eye open as uproarious laughter fills your ears.

“If you’re gonna fall asleep then at least let me lay down too,” he says, drawing out the last word as he props your upper half up. He takes your place on the sofa before pulling you on top, and you huff as you fall into a pile.

“Jerk.”

“Your favorite jerk, though.”

Oh, he definitely feels it when you smile into his chest.

The weekend arrives without issue.

Wednesday night you’re watching the sunset over melon sodas.

Thursday night you’re falling asleep on Facetime.

Friday night you’re in the midst of downtown Tokyo, multicolored lights casting your faces in ethereal glow as you work against the hustle and bustle of regulars and tourists. Karaoke songs eat up the most of your visit, Gojo’s voice slowly going scratchy until the crowd finally works the nerve to drag him offstage. You spend the remaining time hopping restaurants, ordering exactly one dish at each location, slowly working your way through a full course meal. The waitress who serves you nothing more than a plate of gyoza gets an especially generous tip.

Dessert is by far his favorite dish: a deluxe parfait, served in a tall, American-style glass and filled to the brim with sorbet. You can still taste the fruit toppings, fresh and fragrant and honeyed on your tongues as you swap saliva in the back of his car. He cups your face with one hand and holds the small of your back with the other, pressing dangerously close against your body. When you finally have the chance to breathe, a thread of spit trails between your lips, in memory of your union. It glistens in the color of the muted city lights, persevering through the window tint in all of their electric might. A mischievous glint reaches his eyes, and all of a sudden he’s pulling you on top of his lap.

“We can get away with this much, can’t we, princess?”

And you oblige, patch of wetness already creeping through your panties as he starts to move, clothed cockhead grinding against the curve of your ass. He’s louder than usual, quivering groans crumbling as they reach your ears, his hips rolling in stuttering motions. You feel as if you’re aflame, pulsating with need, decadent sweetness enveloping your senses every time he pulls in for a kiss, every time he grazes you with his pubic bone. Your clit sings with praises as he pushes you down by the hips, whispering how good you’re being for him, how gorgeous you look in the dress he bought you, and you make a silent wish in the faint moonlight that the moment will never end.

But it seems that good things always meet their end, and come Saturday night, the monster rears its ugly head again.

Because on Saturday night, Gojo’s got you hanging on his arm, the two of you ascending concrete steps to the usual place. Same group of people, different game every week. The two of you are greeted with sweet sighs and boozy smiles, clink of bottles surrounding you as they prepare this week’s drinking game. Gojo’s a lightweight and Geto sticks to designated-driver duty, so it usually works out just fine.

Just not this week.

If Gojo was the sun, then Geto was the moon.

It always seemed to Geto that his best friend had everything in the world he could possibly need: looks, charisma, and status, all readily available to him without much effort of his own. And honestly? He loathed him for that.

As soon as the clock strikes midnight, Geto knows there’s absolutely no way he’s making it to the party. Instead he opts to spend Saturday night alone in the comfort, or perhaps the prison, of his own room.

Because the sun is a star that births brilliance, instilling vitality and inspiring vigor wherever it goes. Whereas the moon only picks up in the after hours, left to guide the lost and the wandering in the nighttime. He feels like he’s always scraping the bottom of the barrel, the pool of women he can choose from limited to the gaggle of bumbling stragglers who lament, still, the absence of the blinding sun. And for the past twenty or so years of his life, those bumbling stragglers have not so much as glanced back at him, too enchanted by the liveliness of day.

Worst of all is that softheaded people, scatterbrains just like you, they think they can fix Gojo, super-fucking-nova Gojo who burns it all up, destroying everything in his course of direction. Part of Geto thinks it’s absolutely deplorable, the way in which pea-brained whores throw themselves at him, hankering for his attention and jumping through all the hoops necessary to get just that. But part of Geto also wants to have his own stake in the fun, and Gojo—pretty boy, genetic-lottery winner Gojo knows this all too well.

The glint of the moonlight taunts Geto as it reflects off the silver-toned box in his hand, bold “STOP,” “REC,” and “PLAY” lettering practically chanting his name in the dim illumination. He was told that the handheld device was safer with him, well out of your reach in the confines of his single dorm, and he supposes that’s the truth, what with the lack of foot traffic in this cramped room that lacks of fresh air and sunlight.

It’d be doubly safer if he’d just tuck the abomination away, stick it deep in the corner of his sock drawer or perhaps somewhere underneath the bed frame, but he’s kept it well in sight ever since he first laid hands on it. He clutches it tightly as if it just might disappear when he lets go; chances like these are rare for him, to be so close in proximity to the wanton whines of someone he knows and sees almost daily. And if it’s anyone’s fault that you’re still fucking an immature bastard, a privileged manchild who gets pretty much everything he wants, it most certainly isn’t his own.

It’s just so exhilarating, to be able to cradle the cool metal in one hand, throbbing cock in the other, drawstring sweats already halfway down as he thumbs at his flushed, pink head. He’s kicking his pants off as he leans into bed, flat of his slicked-up fingers laving over the sopping tip that cries and weep for release. He’s already imagining it, the kinds of o-shaped faces you make with a leash dangling from your neck, bubbling with excitement and intoxication and jealousy at the mere thought. But he doesn’t start the audio yet, fumbling for his stash of lotion before moving to fist his cock in its entirety, twitching creature red with excitement as he jerks it up and down.

It feels so intimate to him, the fact that you’re so close yet so far away, musical mewls available on demand whenever he so pleases. He quickens the pace, palm of his hand practically flattening the vein on the underside of his cock as he starts to buck his hips into his tightening fingers. He’d just love to ram his dick down your throat one day, but for now he’ll have to make do with his hands.

He hits “PLAY” with bitter determination.

The very first sound of crumpling bedsheets has him curling into a full-body tingle. He’s close, so close he can almost taste it, but he keeps his concentration on the audio speaker, waiting for something, anything to heighten his arousal. He sucks in the cold air between his teeth, curses threatening to pour from his lips at how right, how wrong it all feels. The anticipation is short-lived, however, broken by the sound of Gojo’s voice, just barely recognizable in the speaker’s tinny, superficial quality.

“My, my,” the silver-haired deviant says, corners of his mouth undoubtedly upturned as he leans into the microphone.

“Just what do you think you’re doing, Geto?”

The voice recorder hits the floor at the sound of his own name, blood pressure rising as his arms and legs tense up in disbelief. His own orgasm slips away and out of reach in an instant, petering out in wretchedly slow motion as his stiff cock throbs with pitiful languor. He wants to laugh, he wants to cry, wants to curse the world for ever thinking you were actually within his reach, wants to chuck the accursed gadget across the room and watch it scatter across the floor in glittering smithereens. Or maybe he just wants to cradle his head and sink into the ground, face his back to the despicable device for the rest of the night as the cold seeps into his sides, but he’s not even sure where the damn thing skittered off to and his head is spinning and his eyelids clench shut and the world just grinds to a halt.

Gojo doesn’t take the news well.

Gojo doesn’t want to take it at all.

You’re chatting up the party’s host, a premed student in the same year as him, when you first notice him glancing at his phone.

“So how are things? Between you two, I mean,” Shoko asks as she follows your gaze. 

“Couldn’t be better” is your absentminded answer, and she stifles a laugh—a perfect relationship with the Gojo Satoru? But you’re only half listening as she expresses her disbelief, eyes never quite leaving Gojo’s back as he shifts away from the mass of people and shuffles towards the windows, cell phone in balled-up hand.

The first call is inconspicuous enough—Geto has a habit of running late, after all. But when you excuse yourself to the bathroom and come back find to Gojo still holding the phone to his ear, half crouched with his lips screwed up in a pout, you know something’s off. Part of you doesn’t want to take your place beside him, but he pulls you down by the wrist, grip strong enough to leave dime-sized bruises.

They’re explaining the game of the night before you can ask him what’s up: a  pitcher of beer will round the group of players, all sat in a circle on the carpeted floor, each and every one taking turns trying to steal the last drop. It’s a familiar setting, the music but a hum in the background as the participants buzz with idle chatter, but the person beside you feels alien somehow. The woolen material pills underneath your toes as you curl them into little balls, eyeing him with a sideways glance. You know better than to raise the issue when his foot’s tapping the floor with such force, rapid rhythm almost matching the incessant pace with which he thumbs at his phone. He’s calling Geto three, four, five times before changing tack, demanding an explanation through text.

Shallow breaths are all that fill your lungs as you keep as still as possible, trying your best to get a good read on the screen. If the slump in his shoulders is any indicator, you’re sure he’s seething at the words that light it up. But before you can make out a single phrase, he’s slamming the phone down with one hand, clenching the pitcher of freshly poured beer with the other.

His turn to take the first swig.

He ends up gulping until you’re sure he’s out of breath.

“Whoa there, Satoru,” the person next to him says when he sets the pitcher down, nearly emptied. “What the fuck was that?” 

His wrist rises to wipe the corner of his mouth and he exhales sharply, as if his simple reply requires strenuous effort.

“DD bailed on us,” he announces, “fucking flake.”

“Maybe we should have you sober up, then,” someone else, likely Shoko, calls out from across the room.

The change in his demeanor is instant.

“Ah, we’ll make it back in one piece, won’t we?” Gojo’s glance darts sideways, playful lilt betraying the ice he has for eyes.

The room hushes, waiting for an answer, and you sit up straight when you realize who he’s asking. You quirk an eyebrow, amused. With his cheeks already flushed, what seems to be a pointed gaze unfocused and glassy, you can’t help but beg to differ. You know the answer he wants to hear with every bone in your body. But every fiber in your being knows the truth.

“Bullshit.”

The entire room erupts and it’s decided, against his will, that you’ll be spending the night.

Everything falls apart from there.

Shoko shows you to a guest room once the others begin to clear out, dark circles carved out by cool white fluorescents that cast shadows behind her puffy eye bags.

“Sorry it’s so small,” she says, gesturing at the lone mattress, creeping moonlight like a spotlight on its linen-lined surface.

“It’s everything we could ask for,” you say as Gojo falls into bed, sprawling out against the twin sized sheets. “Thanks for letting us crash.” She shoots him a tight lipped smile before placing a deft hand on your shoulder, brown locks cascading as she leans into your ear.

“Let me know if you need anything, okay?” 

The night is long and never-ending. 

Teeny tiny bits of skylight taunt you from above as Gojo proceeds to keep you awake well past twilight. He’s tossing and turning in the guest bed, kicking the blanket off the both of you with spiteful purpose, inviting in the cool night breeze. It nips you from your face to your toes, colder still even as he tightens his hold on you, and you decide to finally break the silence.

“You still mad about that one thing I said?”

He scoffs, huff of breath like a shot to your neck.

“You seriously have to ask?”

You tense up immediately, spine straightening flat against his chest as he continues, edge to his voice swelling as it looms behind you. “Honestly, who do you think you think you are? Always acting like you’re better than me.” Razor thin needles lodge themselves into your scalp as he pulls your hair back, your chin meeting chilled air as you offer up a whimper. 

“It’s not like that.” 

He only tightens his grip on your hair, pulling it back harder still.

“Think I need to remind you of your fucking place,” he mumbles as he presses into you, something stiff rocking against the fat of your thighs.

“Not here,” you breathe, eyes widening as you realize his intent, the alcohol in your system seeming to swirl in your head. He staggers his hips in response.

“Wasn’t a problem in the car.” 

“Satoru, they might hear us,” you say, the steel in your voice cracking as his free arm snakes around your side, searching for the hem of your pants. “Mercy,” you try again, the familiar, agreed upon safe word sounding foreign and unfamiliar when it comes out but a croak. It hurtles from the shelter of your lips, forever lost as the strain in his pants only grows, breath going ragged as he ruts into your hips.

“Just let me have this.”

And he revels in the way in which he easily overpowers you, enamored in how his towering frame nearly swallows you whole. When a particularly loud groan—one you’re sure anyone in a neighboring room can overhear—escapes his lips, you blister with shame, burying your face in the pillow, limbs aching for need of sleep.

And then his breath hitches as he chases after fireworks and explosions, captivated by the way that you squirm in vain. His palms claim your hips as his own, cockhead grinding behind you, servicing himself with feverish concentration. He presses your side into the mattress, ass cheeks squeezing together like a homemade fleshlight, and you arch your back in a sorry attempt at evasion. 

He groans in response, knees buckling together as he brushes up against the makeshift curve, and you stop struggling altogether. Your body buzzes from the touch, head swelling like a balloon, skin crawling from the jerky movements as you go limp as a ragdoll.

“God, you’re so good to me,” he says, praise anything but endearing when it hits your ears. It’s the same kind of acclaim he gave up just the night before, but it cheapens as he repeats it, banal phrase playing over and over in your head. He’s still humping your butt when he cums, shaky and delirious as he rides out the high, profanities rolling off his tongue until he’s shuddering himself to sleep. All is still once he’s blacked out from the stimulation, pitter patter of salted frustration the only movement left over as it soaks the pillowcase through and through.

You lay awake, caged by his toned muscle, trapped by his carbon curses, praying for sleep until the birds begin to chirp. They sing a song that they borrowed from the night, a harrowing lullaby that has you in a panic, slipping out of his grasp as you crawl out of bed. 

By the crack of dawn you’ve tiptoed into a cab, belongings clutched tight to your chest, apartment complex shrinking in the distance, but it never seems to get further away.

Geto hasn’t breathed a word about the voice recorder.

Geto doesn’t want to think about it all.

He’s paying for it now with a barrage of daily phone calls from none other than Gojo himself, who dials him day and night and morning, no regard for moderation. Geto regards the fallout as both of their instant karma, still miffed by the prank he’d just fallen for, but unwilling to reveal his folly. He fills the role of trusty confidant nonetheless, his betrayal as M.I.A driver long forgotten. It’s a spectacle, the frenzy Gojo is bound in, and he might as well watch from a front row seat.

But he hasn’t made a full recovery yet, forever irked at the pretty privilege Gojo takes for granted, the privilege he downright hoards for himself, barking into the speaker when he feels his blood begin to boil.

“Seriously, what did you do this time?” He wants to tear his hair out at Gojo’s stupidity, his utter lack of tact, wants to pull out his front teeth and pulverize the dental tissue into a fine powder when he’s met with momentary silence. 

It’s been a few days since you left the guest bedroom alone in the wee hours of morning, and Gojo hasn’t been able to get ahold of you since. You haven’t been answering his texts, his calls, Christ, he even tried your personal email, and now Geto finds himself shouldering the brunt of his correspondence, trying everything in his power to get him to calm the fuck down, albeit fruitlessly.

“Nothing we haven’t done before,” Gojo insists once he’s found his choice of words, spitting them out one by one, raking stiff fingers through colorless locks. “I got a little handsy, but it was seriously nothing.” Geto shakes his head and rubs his temples; nothing isn’t enough to make you walk out on him. 

“If you’re telling the truth, then stop worrying already.” A stray section of his bangs fall forward, sweeping over his eye as he slumps over in his chair. “But if you’re lying—” he starts, cut off by the sound of chaste knocks, an unassuming 1-2-3 kissing up at his door before he can finish. 

Saved by the mystery visitor.

If he didn’t know any better, he’d sigh relief, eager to break away from the droning and moaning of the spoiled brat on the other line. Instead he gives pause, as if weighing the cost of answering the door against the merit of staying put on the phone, moment’s hesitation only giving way to a guaranteed getaway.

“Hold on, I need to get this,” is all Geto says as he hangs up the phone, equal parts appreciative and skeptical of the person at his door. He isn’t exactly friendly with anyone on his floor, and few would show up here without asking first, so he peers through the peephole, curiosity getting the better of him.

And lo and behold, speak of the devil, it’s Gojo’s missing girlfriend, standing alone with her hands twisted together.

Amazing. You’re quite literally the very last person he wanted to see right now.

“Do you have any idea how worried he is?” Geto snaps when he answers the door. You have no idea what kind of mess he has on his hands. “Go and make up with your boyfriend already.” He moves to close the door but you react quickly, wedging yourself before the doorframe, eyes wide and pleading.

“I’m in trouble, so please...” You scramble for something half believable. “I can’t turn to anyone else.” He laughs in your face, eyebrows quirked with mirth at how genuine it almost sounds.

Almost.

“Don’t give me that.”

“No, I mean it,” you press on, unwilling to admit that anyone else who’d listen to your cries for help, from trusted family to doe-eyed friends, would undoubtedly have you in a beeline for the authorities. “You—you’re the only other person who can put up with Gojo.”

That gets him stopping in his tracks.

“Barely,” he scoffs, but the pressure on the door lets up. He hates that you have a point there. Hates that he can’t look away from Gojo and his silly antics and his daring ploys and especially hates that he has that in common with you. He wants to turn you away but you look so hopeful, ignoring the dulling pain of the door trying to crush your foot flat.

He bites the bullet.

“You know he’ll be pissed if he finds out you came to me first, right?” You screw your lips together when he cracks the door slightly.

“Well, he doesn’t really have the right at the moment,” you sniff, barging in when he lets go of the door completely.

The room is impossibly smaller than you ever imagined, in direct contrast to all the empty space in Gojo’s rental. It’s a wonder how all his necessities fit in the cramped shelves and tiny drawers, and you almost marvel at the scale of it until the sound of wood on vinyl tiling snaps you back to focus. A few stray articles of clothing are plucked from the ground and chucked to the corner before he’s pulling two chairs up, one for you and one for him. Once he’s sitting, you have his full, unadulterated attention.

Not that you know what to do with it.

It takes a while to find your voice, fiddling with your fingers as you try, unsuccessfully, to hold his gaze. There’s no clock but you swear you can hear the second hand ticking. The curtain’s closed but you’re sure you can feel the heat of the sun disappearing. You’re certain that it ebbs below the curve of the horizon as you watch, timidly, the tap of Geto’s wooden sandal. It remind you of the clack of Gojo’s dress boots, impatience slowly exceeding its carefully drawn bounds.

You time out a moment of silence.

And then another.

And then another, until Geto is staring you down expectantly, pinpricks for eyes. You take the hint.

“I said it.” You look down, fidgeting with your shirt. “I said no.”

His eyes soften immediately, struck by the raw edge of your voice, your inability to look him in the eye.

“And he didn’t respect that?”

“He touched me. When I asked him to stop.” The words have to force themselves out your throat, the little bit of courage you have all that keeps the walls from collapsing in completely. You take as deep of a breath as you can manage when the memory flickers through your mind, clear as yesterday. “He—he fucked me through his clothes.” Your head’s buried in your hands as you fold into yourself completely, rocking in place, and something rages inside of Geto.

“Wait, what?” Geto looks at you incredulously, disbelief scrawled all over his face, eyes narrowing when you keep your head down. “Through his clothes?”

You nod slowly, knowingly, and he feels as though the world is spinning all over again. The ground seems to shift beneath him as your face contorts in pain, saltwater already beading up along your lower lashes. That’s it? That’s what this entire circus is on about? He cards his hands through his hair as he tries to process it, shaking his head when you fail to respond. That’s all it takes for your whole body to quake, hard lumps bubbling up your throat at the bite of his words, breath stuttering irregularly as your windpipe starts to clench up. 

And then you’re crying, body wracked with hiccups as you try to quell the chills crawling up your skin. Your chest heaves in a sorry attempt to keep up with the lurch of your lungs, sputtering as you try to suppress your voice.

“God, you’re all so fucking annoying.”

He watches you bubble over, feeling his own emotions swell as they hit a critical mass, stomach churning at the sight. You couldn’t manage a comeback if you wanted to, a blubbering mess as you try to wipe your eyes dry. The small bit of composure that’s kept him whole these past few days finally snaps when the tears trail down your hands, no end in sight in the onslaught of waterworks.

“I bet you wanted it,” he continues, unfazed by the fattening tears, fingertips digging into his thighs as he spots the yellowed bruises he jacks off to at night. He leers at the fading brown and imagines them overlaid with fresh, new marks, gleaming blush and fiery crimson. “I bet sluts like you don’t care what happens as long as they get dicked down in the end.” A quiet sob tumbles out of you and your cheeks tingle with hurt, like you’ve been backhanded once, then twice.

“It’s n-not like that,” you finally manage to say, gasping through choked noises as he creeps closer, cloaking you in shadow. He stares vacantly from his vantage point, as if looking at an ant on the tiles.

“Then why don’t you walk away for real?” 

And that’s exactly what you should be doing right now, cornered by a large man in his dark, dingy room, but by the time you think to stand up he’s grabbing you by the wrists. He sends you barreling into the desk, spinning you around so your hands clutch the edge, chest pressing up against the surface. He pins an arm behind you with ease, kicking your legs wide open, and you flail the other in no particular direction.

“You secretly enjoy all of it, don’t you? You secretly get off on the idea of being raped by your boyfriend.” He sneers as you buckle underneath him, grazing his growing erection. “All worked up over a little dry humping? Get over yourself already. You females want to be hurt so bad.”

“Fuck you,” you manage between muffled sobs, chest feeling as if it’s about to break in half. “You’re j-just like Gojo.”

“Just like Gojo?” Geto echoes, free hand coming to snake between your thighs, voice catching as he speaks. “You’re sorely mistaken.”

You fall limp as he draws a single finger under your panties, tracing your hipbone as he muses. He imagines their contents, imagines how easy it would be to take you by force, sighing aloud at the prospect of doing it without.

“I can never be him.”

fishstyx © 2021 ✸ all content and their rights belong to me. do not repost, reproduce, or modify anywhere.

#gojo smut #geto smut #geto x reader #gojo x reader #jjk smut #tw. dark. #tw. noncon. #tw. dubcon. #tw. influence. #tw. toxic. #tw. penetration. #tw. showoff. #tw. size. #tw. degradation. #tw. corruption. #🍣.food #fishstyx.jjk

[buckyismybicycle]

[PART 8] TEACH ME HOW TO LOVE (DAD!BUCKY X TEACHER!READER)

Title: teach me how to love AO3 Pairing: Bucky x Reader (teacher) Rating: Teen for now (*this will get bumped up NEXT CHAPTER) Tags/Warnings: godfather!Bucky, canon-typical violence/death of character, fluff, slight angst, learning disability, almost a spy AU & some amazing friendships, PTSD, nightmares, mentions of anxiety Summary: Natasha leaves behind her precious daughter, Yelena, and with her dying breath asks Bucky to look after her. You happen to have Yelena in your class this school year.

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Author’s Note: Hang in there folks - you know what's coming next chapter!!! As always, I appreciate you all for reading, and for reblogging to help spread the word. It means so much to me! 🥰

But Laura’s right, screw what he thinks he’s supposed  to do. He wants to see you — he just has to hope you want to see him too.

“Soooooo?” Laura asks, before she even gets the door opened up all the way. 

Before Bucky can even say anything, Clint pops around the corner holding hands with Yelena. 

“Papa!”

“How’d it go?” Clint asks as the child squirms in his arms and gets put down. 

“It was obviously a big hit, look at his smile!” Laura exclaims. 

“Is that what that is on his face?” Clint jokes. 

“I’m going to ignore you now,” Bucky says with a glare before picking Yelena up and giving her a Kunik until she giggles and buries her face in his neck for a proper hug.

“Did you have fun with Ms. Teacher, papa?”

“I sure did, pumpkin.” 

“Stay for lunch,” Laura commands as she tugs on his arm towards the kitchen, where she’d already set up an extra plate.

“This is just so you can interrogate me, isn’t it?” He asks, and the smug look on her face is answer enough. Clint looks all too delighted.

“So, the bar?” Laura prompts as the salad makes its way around the ‘grown-up table’. 

The girls had insisted on sandwiches, cut up into teensy triangles for their tea party in the next room, and the boys were more than happy to play along because sandwiches. 

“Was actually a great spot, it wasn’t too packed but busy enough. Kind of lost track of time, ended up staying for hours.”

“It sounds like you talked quite a bit!” Laura exclaims, obviously happy for this development. “That’s great, Bucky.” 

“She’s just easy to talk to. Real easy. She, um, asked me about my arm.” 

Clint and Laura both freeze for a second, looking at him to expand. 

“Not — not my arm, she asked me about the gloves. Then I told her. About the arm.” 

They look at each other and Laura puts a hand over his. “That’s a really big step, Bucky. I’m sure she must know that too.”

“The whole story?” Clint asks. 

Bucky nods once. “Whole story.” 

Clint lets out a low whistle. “That’s a big deal.”

“She makes me feel like it’s not? In a good way, I mean. She didn’t stare or ask to look at it. Just… held my hand, like that was normal.”

“It is normal,” Laura emphasizes, while Clint nods along. They’d had a lot of talks about Bucky’s relationship with his prosthetic and the complicated history. 

They catch up on a few other things, and end up talking about Chrstmas dinner. 

“You should bring her,” Clint offers.

“Slow down,” Bucky says nervously. “I haven’t even secured a second date yet.” 

“Well, what are you waiting for!” Laura scolds. 

“Uh.” He doesn’t really know how to explain the equal parts of fear and anxiousness he feels when he thinks about spending another day with you. 

“Please don’t tell us you’re going to wait,” Laura follows up with an arched eyebrow.

“I — no? Yes?” Bucky flounders. He’s shot someone with less hesitation than this, but something about you makes his head spin. 

“Why, so she can come up with reasons to leave your grumpy ass?” Clint asks, rolling his eyes. 

“Clint!” Laura berates before turning back to Bucky. “Itf you want a second date, ask her! What if the poor girl is waiting and thinking you didn’t have a good time just because you’re worrying about some outdated philosophy about dating.” 

“She said she wanted to take it slow,” he admits. “What if she didn’t have a good time?” 

It’s too easy for him to flip back and forth between selfishly wanting you while also thinking you deserve better. 

“Oh come on, none of that,” Clint tells him, kicking him under the table. 

“Let her choose,” Laura suggests. “If you message her and she doesn’t respond, that’s on her, but if she said she wanted to go slow, she can set the pace. That’s what’s important, right?”

Look, he’s been out of the game a while, alright? He’s never had to ask for a second date. He’s never been on a second date, not since college. 

It’s a momentous feat that you didn’t even ask Bucky for details before saying yes. Honestly, it didn’t matter. You had such a good time, and felt over the moon when you saw his name on your phone that you couldn’t care less what he wanted to do. Hopefully it wasn’t anything fancy as you had enjoyed the lowkey date last time and i seemed Bucky did too.

♡

When Tuesday comes around, you’re relieved to see Bucky in a pair of jeans. Yelena greets him, and you quickly clean up the last few paint brushes so they can dry overnight. Bucky asks Yelena about her day and waits patiently as she tells him everything. You feel a flicker of pride when she says she has fun — nothing makes you feel more successful as a teacher. 

“Okay, I’m ready!” You say as you finally gather your things. “Do I look alright?”

“You look perfect,” he chuckles at you before reaching up to your cheek and wiping a fleck of spray paint. “You’ve never been to Wanda’s Woofles, have you?” 

“Wanda’s what?” 

“Perfect.” He grins, not really answering you. 

It doesn’t matter, of course, you’d follow him anywhere. He drives a good twenty minutes away, and you keep up a steady conversation with both Bucky and Yelena, wondering how it's gotten to be so natural already. 

Wanda’s Woofles, as it turns out, is a family-owned ice cream and waffles shop and the outside is brightly painted. What sticks out the most is the shop’s logo, a very happy-looking Jack Russell Terrier with shaggy white and light brown hair. You’re in awe as you walk in the shop as you take in the jukebox, red leather stools by the counter and benches in the booths.

“I love this retro look!” You proclaim excitedly, looking at the posters along the canary yellow and cherry red walls. 

“Thank you,” a female voice says and you spin around to where a young woman is smiling behind the counter with long, straight, auburn hair. 

Bucky introduces the two of you. “This is Wanda. She owns this shop with her brother.”

“Nice to meet you,” she extends a hand over the counter, the slightest accent in her voice a beautiful lilt. 

“Lovely to meet you too,” you say. You notice there are a few patrons, the music is playing at a soft volume, and Wanda turns her attention downward.

 “Hi Yelena!”

“Hi Ms. Wanda! Do you have your strawberry stuff today?” 

“I sure do. Why don’t you pick a table for everyone and I’ll bring over some menus?”

“Okay!” The little girl hollers confidently, leading them further into the shop. 

You see buckets of ice cream all lined up, with flavours you’ve never tried, and the back counter is full of different candies, sprinkles, and other toppings all while the heavenly smell of fresh waffles fill your nose. Your excitement hasn’t worn off even after you’ve sat down. “Bucky, I can’t believe I’ve never heard of this place!” 

He smiles, relieved that you seem to be on board with his surprise. 

“It’s relatively new,” he tells you. “Wanda and her family moved here from Sokovia, during the war. Her twin brother helps run the place too, but I think it’s Wanda’s precious baby.”

“She does really seem to love this place,” you note, admiring Wanda’s big smile and bright eyes. She looked happy. 

“The dog in their logo is the family dog, Sparky. They found him on the street.” He nods to a nearby painting of the same dog, but in between two identical boys with bob cuts. 

‘Woofles’ you think delightedly to yourself, admiring how adorable it is. You wonder how often he comes here to know so much about this place already. As Wanda brought over the menus, she even sat beside you as Bucky and Yelena were across from you. 

“Good to see a new face around here,” Wanda says to you before leaning across the table and stage-whispers to Yelena. “Yelena, should I put an extra cherry on your strawberry sundae?” 

“Uh-huh!” Yelena beams as she claps her hands. Wanda winks easily at the girl.  

“How is everything?” She asks Bucky. 

“Can’t complain,” he shrugs. “How are the boys?” 

“Tommy wants to join the track team, which is great, but I am a bit concerned about Billy. He hasn’t quite seemed to have found any interests yet at school.” 

“You happen to be in the presence of a school teacher down at South Hamden Institute,” Bucky tells her, nodding to you.

“Oh! What grade do you teach? My boys are in South Westview, fourth grade,” she turns to you.

“I have a mixed class, grade one and grade two, but I used to assist at Winchester High for grade nine,” you say. “I’ve never had kids in between but I’m sure Billy will find something, they always do, it’s just a matter of exploring everything.”

“I think so too.” She gets a downcast look for a moment before smiling at you again. “My husband is overseas right now. He works for the government, you see, so he’s away for long stretches sometimes. I think Billy just misses his father, that’s all. I know it happens, but you just wish you didn’t have to see your kid anything but happy, you know?”

“Of course,” you agree hastily. “That’s totally understandable. Maybe you could suggest a few things you think he’d like, and help with putting together a surprise or something, to present to your husband when he comes home. It might excite him enough to want to find something.”

“That’s an excellent idea!” She exclaims with her signature wide smile. “Thank you, darling, that’s perfect. Now come, tell me what you want, I’ll even give you an extra cherry too.”

“That’s how you know Ms. Wanda thinks you’re special, Miss,” Yelena tells you. Bucky bites his lip but you can tell he’s very amused by all of this. 

You order a double scoop banana split — one flavour you’ve always loved, and one flavour you’ve never tried. It seemed like a good balance, and true to her word, Wanda did put an extra cherry for you. Yelena gets a strawberry sundae in a waffle with two cherries and Bucky gets a mint chocolate chip milkshake, so you get to tease him for being an old soul. 

“It’s a classic,” he makes sure to emphasize, but he doesn’t deny your teasing. 

“I know,” you agree, before stealing a sip for yourself. You share your banana split to make up for it, and by the time the three of you are done, you’re all full and lethargic when you say goodbye to Wanda. 

“That was the best ice cream I’ve ever had,” you tell Bucky as you make your way down the street to a nearby park. 

Bucky had already warned you that Yelena’s sugar highs are a nightmare and he always lets her burn off energy at the playground first. You definitely didn’t turn down a chance to spend more time with them. 

It’s not too busy, with a handful of kids ranging from toddlers to early teens running around on the jungle gyms and swings. Yelena bounces excitedly and begs Bucky to take her shoes off faster so she can go barefoot in the sand like most of the other kids. 

“My god, I wish I had her energy,” you complain. “I’m so full I could go for a nap.” 

Bucky huffs a laugh as you take a seat on the bench, but he casually drapes one arm behind you as an open invitation. One you do not decline. You tuck your legs up to your other side and lean into Bucky’s side. 

“Thank you, Bucky, this was perfect,” you say softly as you rest your head on his shoulder. His cologne is faint but enticing, every part of your body where you’re touching is warm even in the early evening. 

“I’m glad you had a good time.” His breath skims the top of your head, your hair fluttering ever so slightly. “Maybe I should have taken you to dinner first, hm?”

“But then I wouldn’t have been able to finish my delicious ice cream,” you point out. You like that you can feel the vibration of his chuckle against your body. 

“Maybe —” he coughs a little awkwardly. “Maybe next time?” 

You don’t know how he could possibly be so shy and hesitant when you were clearly interested in him! Maybe you’d have to do a better job showing it. He deserved to know how special he really was.

“I would love that,” you announce as cheerfully as possible. 

You glance to where Bucky has been looking, at Yelena in the sandbox with a few kids building a castle (or a dog, it’s hard to tell). Her back is to them so you lean your head back and kiss Bucky where you’re able to reach — along his jaw. His stubble tickles your lips but you smile into his skin before he shifts and tips your face toward him, his fingers curled under your chin, and kisses you properly. That rushing feeling comes back to you as you curl in closer to him and almost forget where you are. 

When you both pull back, Bucky gets his eyes back on Yelena, but his arm wraps a little tighter around you. You don’t know how long you stay, but Yelena is tuckered out by the time she declares she’s ready to go home.

“Did you like Ms. Wanda’s ice cream?” She asks you.

“I loved it. I’m so happy that you showed me!”

“Me too! It’s the bestest,” Yelena nods in affirmation. 

You ask her if she had fun in the park and by the time she’s done recounting all her activities, she’s snoring in the backseat. 

“I had an amazing time,” you whisper so as to not wake the little girl up. 

“Enough to see me again?” 

“Definitely,” you grin. “Text me when you get home,” you say as you get out of the car, making Bucky promise. You linger in the lobby, staring at the handsome man in his Camaro who’s waiting for you to get inside safely, wondering how you’d gotten so lucky. 

♡

“Come on, pumpkin, time for bed,” he tries to gently stir the little girl awake. 

“We’re home already?” she blinks tiredly. “I didn’t say bye to Ms. Teacher!” She looks distraught, but quickly recovers when Bucky says they can send her a goodnight video.

“That way she can see you say goodnight all the time, okay?” 

“Can I draw her a picture first?” 

“You get five minutes, okay? It’s time for bed already.” 

“Yay! You know, papa, I think Miss really likes you! She smiled lots today.” 

If he gets distracted and lets Yelena stay up an extra ten minutes, well, nobody has to know. 

♡

You and Bucky text constantly after that — good mornings and reminders, quick messages throughout the day. The video, of course, had the benefit of being saved instantly. 

Yelena had drawn you the moon and a few stars for the video, but the pair of matching, bright smiles had made you rewatch the video quite a few times. 

Sometimes, Bucky calls you after Yelena’s in bed and you’ve just settled into your couch with a cup of tea. You’d think that talking everyday would make it so there wasn’t anything left to say but it turns out that you were always learning more about each other. 

Soon enough, Friday rolls around and while you and add Bucky hadn’t explicitly made plans to see each other over the weekend, you knew that you were both free. You’re just about to message him when the three dots appear on your screen and you wonder what Bucky was going to say. They seem to go on forever, yet when he finally sends you the message, it’s clear that he had deleted his message quite a few times. 

And so, you find yourself in a beautiful, fairy-lit dance hall, with rich oak wood and high ceilings. 

“This place is beautiful,” you comment as you look around. People are relaxed, smiling as they chat and enjoy their drinks and food, the majority of them dressed for the occasion like yourself and Bucky. 

“It’s got a certain charm, doesn't it?”

“Do you come here often?”

“No, not quite. Hadn’t found the right partner,” Bucky says with a small smile at you. “I bring Yelena for line dancing on Tuesdays sometimes, though.”

“Don’t hold your breath,” you reply nervously. “Outside of weddings and clubs, I haven’t really danced, and something tells me that’s not the type of dancing we’re doing tonight.” 

“I promise I won’t lead you astray,” he expresses easily, with all the confidence in the world. 

It does settle the fluttering in your stomach, somewhat, but you’re still anxious about embarrassing yourself. You let yourself be led to a table on the side, where Bucky turns up the charm by pulling out your chair and you can’t help but giggle as you curtsy before sitting. There was something so romantic about the atmosphere with the gentle lanterns and soft music. 

Many of the women had their hair curled, old-fashioned, with bright red lipstick and pearls adorning their ears and necks. The men were all dressed to the nines in their dress shirts and ties, but none could compare to Bucky. His light blue dress shirt is tucked into his trousers, his hair looking soft and tucked behind his ears. To top it off, he’d even worn suspenders. He looked good. Very good. 

You order drinks first, and Bucky watches as you relax throughout the conversation. He pointedly doesn’t look at the dancers who have already made their way to the dance floor, keeping his eyes on you instead so you didn’t feel like he was rushing you. 

“Okay, I think… I think I’m ready to try,” you finally say, even though you weren’t feeling it. Bucky takes your hand across the table.

“Only if you’re sure.” 

“I’ll try.” You inhale deeply to muster up all the courage you can. 

Bucky leads you just a few feet from your table so you aren't quite with the rest of the group and holds your hand in his leathered one, placing the other gently on your back just beneath your shoulder blade. You lay your hand on his shoulder, after watching everyone else for some time. 

“Okay?” He asks, you look up into his radiant eyes, the golden lights illuminating every speckle and can’t help but smile. 

You may be nervous, but in his arms, you felt safe, so you nod. 

“Just follow my lead, sweetheart,” he murmurs into your ear before he steps back so you can watch his feet. 

His steps are slow and exaggerated as he whispers directions in your ear. He never rushes you, waiting for each of your steps before taking his next. To your surprise, there are only four steps that he repeats, stringing them together. Even you can feel yourself falling into his rhythm soon. 

He then pulls you closer to him, and you’re more than happy to lean in. For your benefit, he counts softly under his breath, his hand steady on your back to guide you. It gets easier and easier, and before you know it, you’ve melted into his arms, moving fairly fluidly with him. Your bodies are flushed together and each breath brings in the cool, woodsy scent of his cologne and you don’t even realize that you’d drifted into the centre with the rest of the crowd, which had grown since you’d joined. Before you could panic, Bucky gives your hand a squeeze. 

“Just focus on me, darling,” his honey sweet voice tells you. And really, there couldn’t have been an easier task. 

Bucky, with his shining sapphire eyes and solid, grounding presence, his rumbling chuckles and fluid grace. This you know for a fact: you could be in a room of thousands and thousands, but none would hold your attention except Bucky. 

You dance and dance, longer than you ever anticipated but you were having fun! Bucky even spins you and as your dress twirls around your knees, he always pulls you back into him. Your hair falls out from its bun atop your head, and you shake it loose, not bothering to fix it. 

By the end, you’re both warm and flushed, but floating on clouds. In a final move, he dips you, and you go without worry. He plants a quick kiss on your lips before he hauls you up into a joyous hug and you laugh freely. 

“Bucky, I didn’t — I can’t believe I just did that!” You couldn’t stop the bubble of glee in your chest as you two made it back to your table on tired legs. 

“You’re a natural/”

“No, oh my god, no. I had the best teacher,” you wink. 

He can’t help but smile widely at you. “Naw, I think I’m lookin’ at the best,” he fires back. 

The feeling still hasn’t worn off when you finally make it back to Bucky’s Camaro. If anything, the happiness builds and builds as he cruises along with the windows down and your hair whips around your face. Bucky does his best to keep his eyes on the road, but it’s nearly impossible with the way you look beside him right now — free and cheerful. With him. 

“Bucky?” Your voice is quiet, but musical, matching the smile that’s causing your face to ache. As he carefully pulls in and parks in front of your building, he’s finally able to turn to you. 

“Hmm?” 

“Thank you for today, it was… I felt so alive.” You said it so earnestly it almost hurt him to hear. “I never thought it would be so freeing, it felt like we were flying, Bucky. It felt… magical.” 

“You were stunning,” he announces. “Couldn’t keep my eyes off you.” 

You lean over the console to kiss him, slow and passionately, shivering when the leather of his glove runs along your cheek as he cups your face. 

“Would you want to, um, come up for a bit?” You ask timidly.  Bucky’s eyes are piercing as he searches your face for any sign of hesitancy. 

“Are you sure?” 

“I’m sure” you agree with a nod, before you both exit the car and you lead him into the building. 

NEXT CHAPTER | Series Masterpost by Chapter | [overall masterlist]

🙏Thank you as always for getting to this point! If you’ve enjoyed this so far, please consider reblogging to help me share & feedback is so, so verymuch appreciated! 

#BUCKY BARNES #BUCKY BARNES IMAGINE #BUCKY BARNES FANFICTION #BUCKY BARNES X READER #BUCKY BARNES FLUFF #BUCKY BARNES X FEMALE READER #DAD!BUCKY #BUCKY BARNES AU #BUCKY BARNES FANFIC #FANFICTION #TEACH ME HOW TO LOVE #MY WORKS #BUCKY X YOU #READER INSERT #MARVEL FANFICITON #SWEET BUCKY BARNES

[rimaiahwrites]

Untitled—

Chapter six

Erik slowly pulled his arm from underneath Israel's head without waking her then pulled the covers up to her face, since he had it freezing in his loft.

He swung his Heavy leg over the edge of his bed and stepped on his hard wood stairs that laid up to his bed slowly so it wouldn't creek or crack. He slipped away from the comfort of his bed and made it out of his room without a sound. Even though the sounds of his bare feet slapping against the floor in the hallway was still heard, Israel didn't make a move.

He flicked the lights on in the kitchen, and snatched the refrigerator door open. He mostly had vegetables, fruit and water.  It had been like that since He had started a healthy life style after he came back from the navy.

He grabbed his glass bottle of water and chugged it down. That early morning thrust was real. After he was done he refilled the bottle of water before putting it back in the fridge for his afternoon workout.

Erik went back into the living room and pulled his rug back to reveal his hardwood floors. He pulled one of the wooden boards up and reach up inside to grab his father's old leather Journal. It was slightly beaten up from the many years of his father using it but none the less it was still very beautiful.

his balcony doors blow open from the Wind and he pulled the cream white Curtains back and stepped out. The air was cool but not to cold.

It felt good against his skin. Over the few markings that he had on his  torso- about 400 plus, all in rows around his torso. Some were still healing and sensitive.

Erik was actually still surprised that Israel's nosey ass hadn't spotted them on him yet. He knew that once she had, she will ask him a Thousand and one questions about them. And Erik wasn't really ready for that since he knew he couldn't tell her the real reason he marked himself, at least not yet.

He sat in the big chair that he had hanging to the top of his roof. It swayed from side to side when it was windy or when ever Erik sown it himself. It was soothing though. His balcony was one of the places he liked to meditate and clear his mind. He could look down below, and see businessmen in suits and looking for a taxi, and kids heading off to school with big backpack bouncing against them from running to the bus stop. It was regular city life for him.

He loved the city but hated the memories it came with. He had lost to much in it. First his mother then his father, and so many of his childhood friends had lost their lives to the city they called home. So many time had the city almost taken his life as well, from being beaten on the street by police officers, or being held at gun point at 15, by a local drug dealer that Erik had considered one of his niggas.

The city had done him so wrong but yet here he was, still living in Oakland. Just in a better spot then the apartment that he had spent ten years of his life in.

Erik sighed and sat back down and open his father book. He liked to reread it to keep him motivated and focused on his Destiny. The foreign words of his father language, that he had learned to read over the years, popped out against the old- now brownish- paper. Erik flipped to the page titled, the prince is here.

My son, my prince, my happiness have finally arrived. More Beautiful then I could ever imagine, dark brown eyes like his mother and a head full of thick black kinky hair like me.

The happiness that spread through my body the moment my eyes laid on him I knew I was in love. This was a different type of love, not like the kind of love you have for your mother or your wife it was a kind of love that only a mother or father could have for their child-

Erik read with tears beaming his eyes. Not letting them fall once. Erik slammed the book shut clenching it in his hands, as he leaned forward staring at it. It didn't make him sad, it made his angry. He was so angry at his father and it confused him so deeply since he knew his father had no control over what happened to him.

Maybe it wasn't anger towards his father, but pain that he turned into anger like he always did. And he was tired of it, the anger that had been building up inside him ever since he found his father dead, on his Apartment floor with panther Panther  claw marks in his chest, that came from the man his father called brother.

That's where his real anger was towards, his family. Erik couldn't even call it anger, it was rage. He knew that once he met his uncle all hell was going to break loss. All the pain and rage he had inside of him was going to be released. As soon as he got to wrap his hands around T'chaka fat ass neck, and hear that satisfying crunk that came after he squeeze with all his might. And then his cousin t'challa, was next because he knew that once he killed T'chaka his son was going to go after him. But he was going to prepared.

Israel rolled over on the bed and look over the loft bed. Erik wasn't in the living room or kitchen. She had thought that maybe he had left, until she saw the balcony curtains blow up from the door being open. She smiled slightly and peeled the thick blankets back and headed down the stairs. The little cracking sounds the wooden stairs made as she tip-toed down  sparked Erik's interest, he closed the opened book again, and sat it behind the pillow he had on his swinging chair.

He leaned back into the door frame and spotted Israel on the stairs with a grin on her face. "Hi." She whispered softly so her voice didn't sound raspy from not talking for hours at a time.

"You always wake up in a good mood?" He asked getting up from the balcony ground and walking up to her. She chuckled and shrugged. "When I get a good night of sleep, yeah." She said looking down at him into his eyes, that were still slightly red from earlier. Since she was about three stairs above him, She placed her hands on his shoulders and leaned towards him. "Um...Thank you for last night, I had fun. It was the first time in a long time that I have felt like someone actually wanted to hang and spend time with me..." she admitted, looking down at his chest as she fiddled with his shirt. He rested his hands on her waist and squeezed lightly. "You don't have to thank me princess, I enjoy hanging wit' you." He spoke softly, brushing her face with his knuckles. Slightly pushing her face to the side.

Her gut felt bubbly with happiness, and her cheeks were starting to hurt with how hard she was smiling. And Erik only made it harder for her to stop from the way he was looking at her.

That look he gave her. The one were he would title his head like a puppy and lick his lips while keeping Direct eye contact.

The thigh clenching look if you will.

"You hungry?" He asked, picking her up and swinging her off the stairs to the bottom. "No not really, I don't like to eat breakfast that much because I'm never that hungry." She said sitting at the kitchen counter. His eyes raised and he turned to her.

"You gotta eat breakfast Israel, that's the most important meal of the day." She rolled her eyes because she had heard it so many time before from her mother. "I know I just don't like breakfast-"

"I'm making you breakfast, and you gon' eat it." Erik said turning around to the refrigerator to grab the stuff he needed.

And A word wasn't said as Erik handed Israel the plate of two prices of Turkey bacon one pancake, and a small glass of a mango kiwi and strawberry smoothie that he sweetened with orange juice.

He tried not to give her much but she still felt like it was to much food for right now. It he gave it to her at like 12 am in the afternoon she would most likely still be hungry afterwards.

She stared at the plate and then back at Erik, a pout on her lips. He nodded his head, as if telling her to go ahead and start eating. She sighed and grabbed a fork and began to eat, Erik as well. But his plate was stuffed. Three pancakes, three prices of bacon, and the rest of the plate was taken up by the four scrambled eggs. He was a big boy and needed all the food he could get.

"Is it good?" He asked, month full of food.

"Yeah, it's good even though your Force feeding me it." She chuckled taking another small bite. Erik gave her a close month smile, chewing his bacon aggressively.

"You'll get used to it, eventually your body will want to eat in the morning, anyway your parents call you yet?" She shook her head, taking a sip of her smoothie. "No, I don't know what's going on but hopefully my mother calls soon to fill me in and let me know they made it there safe." She said her thoughts wondering off a bit.

After they were done eating Erik decided he wanted to workout at his favorite boxing gym. So they both got dressed quickly, Israel just put on a white oversized t-shirt and a pair of gray leggings and her white nike sneakers, while Erik wore black baseball shorts a dark gray workout shirt and black running shoes.

Once Erik grabbed his bag they were at the door and headed to the gym.

Erik turned into the parking lot Of his boxing gym named the home of Apollo Creed. Israel raised her eyebrows but she went with it. Erik opened her door while he throwing his gym bag over his shoulder. "A boxing gym?" She questioned following him inside the cold building. There was about ten different sweating men hitting at punching bags or at their couch Gloved hands.

"Yes, that's what the sign says right?" He chuckled dropping his bag on the floor. She rolled her eyes at his slick reply and plopped Down on the bench near his gym bag, "you didn't tell me it was a boxing gym but k, smart ass." She mumbled, watching him watch her while he put on the thin black gloves that fighters put on before the actual boxing gloves. He was clearly not new at this because he wasn't paying much attention to his movements, he was staring at Israel. Something she had noticed he tends to do a lot. But they were even because she caught herself staring at him today more times then she'll like to amid.

"Come on," he smiled pulling her across the gym catching some of the busy men eyes, there was a couple of "damn Erik who dis?" And "this yo new girl?" Erik only grinned, winking at them. While Israel tried to hide herself behind him. Erik noticed and chuckled softly before hugging her to his side.

"You bout to get a couple of boxing lessons for free, by thee Erik Stevens." He sang playfully making her crack a smile. He turned around to look in the big box of gloves and found some pink ones from the little 15 year old girl that used to box here. They looked like they could fit. "Come here, gimme your hand." She slide both her hands in the glove and smiled at how cute they looked on her. "Tiny ass hands," Erik mumbled jokily making her roll her eyes and giggle. "Big ass hands...hulk smash face ass 'I'm Wreck-It' neck ass-" She shot back. he laughed loudly throwing his head back before telling her to "shut the hell up before I knock you out." She just rolled her eyes.

" Ok we're gonna start with a simple, 1,2." He explained taking jabs at the air, making his Biceps and man Titties bounce, In the form fitted workout shirt he changed into in the car. She copied the simple move but aiming at his hands this time. "Ok we gonna do that same move but with a duck added to it," he beamed, excited that she was catching on so soon. "Hit, hit, duck." She moved fast dodging his hand. "This is kinda fun but-" Israel began but was cut short by a high pitched voice and a light skin girl with long loss curls came walking to Erik.

"Erik?! Is that you?!? I haven't seen you in so long," she was so tall that she was almost Erik's height. Israel felt like a child standing next to them.

"This is my homegirl from back in the day, Erie." Israel smiled and waved shyly. "Aw is this your little sister?" Erie smiled sarcastically bending down a bit sticking her hand out for Israel to shake, Israel's smile dropped and things got awkward quickly when Israel didn't grab her hand and only stared at the girl.

"Um Nah this is a good friend of mine, but uh it was nice seeing you Erie." Erik chuckled while dismissing the girl trying to hold in his laughter.

"Oh...well I'll see you later I guess, you should Dm some Time so we can really catch up without..." She tailed off glancing at Israel before smirking at Erik and walking off, making sure to make her ass bounce with every step she took. Israel tore her eyes from her and rolled them. While Erik was busy starring at her ass Israel began to take her gloves off, using her teeth to undo the Velcro on her gloves. The tearing sound brought Erik's attention back to Israel. "What are you doing we still-"

"I'm not really feeling it anymore plus my arms are already getting tired." She huffed swinging her arms back and fourth trying to shake the 'soreness' out of them. Erik mumbled a "yeah already." knowing why she wasn't really feeling it anymore, he left her to sit on the ground while he went and found his trainer, RJ. Erik had been working with Him since he was 15, RJ was one of the only people that Erik felt like care for him when he was Foster care. RJ had found Erik fighting a boy a little older then him outside of a gas station and praised him for how good of a fight was and encouraged him to get into. Erik was definitely hesitant about it at first but RJ eventually convince Erik to do it especially since he was going to be training him for free. It was a way for Erik to blow off some steam with all the Pent up anger he had for the world, RJ was just happy to keep him off the streets. He knew the kid was A genius, he was too smart to end up in jail or dead.

-

It had been two hours since Erik had been training and two hours since Israel been sitting on the hard floor but she barely noticed the numbness in her butt and legs because she was to busy drooling over Erik's delicious body, it was shiny in sweat and his movements were Swift and fast. The faster he hit the punching bag the more his muscles jumped and bounced, Israel don't know how many she licked her lips or clinched her thighs together but she knew her lips were going to be raw and she would have to take a shower as soon as she got home, she didn't care though it was Worth it. She'll sit here all day and night if that meant she could watch him. She wasn't the only one enjoying this whole situation so was Erik. he knew she was watching his every move, she tried to act like she wasn't but she made it very obvious that she was checking him out, but he liked the attention. He liked how easily he can drawl women's attention without even trying. He had her eyes glued to him, not only hers but Erie's too. He caught her staring at him multiple times but instead of scaring away whenever he caught her she locked eyes with him, giving him very seductive look. Erik only chuckled at her Poor attempt and backed over to Israel to grab his ice cold water bottle. Her breath hitched as he reached over her, his hot body almost pressing against her. The scent of his sweat and actual body odor mix with his deodorant made her mouth water. She wanted so badly to reach up and touch his torso but held herself back, sparing herself the embarrassment of rejection. "Are you done?" "Yeah Come on someone wants to meet you before we leave," he said grabbing her hand to help her off the ground. The feeling in her legs started to come back finally as she made her way over to the punching bag. "Israel this my nigga RJ, we go way back." RJ smile brightly at the girl and extended his hand out to her. "Nice to meet you." She beamed at the handsome older man, holding his hand longer then she intended to. RJ didn't mind at all though. They both broke apart when Erik cleared his throat real obnoxiously eyeing the both of them like they stole something from him. "Nigga Y'all tryin' fuck later or what? The fuck." Erik hissed bluntly more so towards RJ, he was way to old to be looking at Israel any type way. He was in his early 40s and Israel was in her late teens, that shit didn't really sit right with Erik. Israel became tense and RJ just dismissed Erik's out burst rolling his eyes and punching him In the arm with the foam glove.

"Shut yo dumb ass up Erik, anyway it I was just trying to see what your name was and shit for later..." Erik's face scrunch up in discussed as he pulled Israel behind his back. "Nigga you old as dirt still trying to flirt with young girls....grow up." Erik chuckled grabbing his bag and Israel's hand pulling her behind him. "Ok and? I'm aging like fine wine, ain't that right baby girl?" He raised a eyebrow at Israel making her turn her face away to hide her smile from the both of them knowing that they'll probably just clown her. "More like milk, anyway I'll see yo old ass later." Erik dabbed him up and left making sure Israel was right behind him. He opened the door for her and she climbed in, putting her Seatbelt on without him having to tell her too this time. Erik got in next making the car bounce a little from how big he was. "Don't pay that old ass nigga no attention, he do that to all the girls that come in to the gym. He swear he's charming-"

"Welllllll......" Israel tailed off

"Woooooow....." was all Erik said before slumping down into his seat. "He fine." Israel laughed widely shrugged her shoulders. "Hell Nah He could be your dad or some shit he's like that old ass uncle at the cookout that get drunk before the party even start." Israel giggled wildly because she does really have a uncle that showed up to the family events already drunk. After their laughter died down things got quite. Like it always seemed to happen when they were by their selves. It wasn't necessarily a awkward Silent just a little uncomfortable, the type when you don't know what Else to say to keep the conversation going but Israel still enjoyed his company.

It was nice finally being around a man, it felt familiar to her. She was always only around boys and men growing up most of the time since she had no younger or older sister in the house, plus the girls that she did have In her family like her aunts and older female cousins were rude and bitchy for no reason so she stuck with just hanging around the boys. it was what she was used to and most comfortable with.

Erik's deep voice shook her out of her train of thought and now her eyes were staring into his trying to focus on what he was talking about. "Huh?" She said trying to process what he said. "I'm gonna drop you off at home."

She pouted and huffed out her breath before mumbling "I don't want to go home, why can't I just stay with you?" Erik chuckled dryly. "Because I got other shit to do Israel." The sternness in his voice jumped out and Israel was just about to let her bratty personality show but quickly caught herself.

She was really quite the rest of the ride this time, extremely quite. Erik only chuckled at her for being mad that she was going home instead of with him, but he didn't give a fuck. He had other shit to do like he said.

"So you not gon' talk?" She shrugged before turning on the radio. Erik turned it off. "Don't touch my radio, answer my question."

"What?" She asked as if she didn't hear him the first time round. "You wanna stay with me?" She nodded with puppy dog eyes. He almost melted. Almost.

"Mm." He hummed pulling up to her house. She pouted And huffed, annoyed with him playing with her.  "Whatever." She snapped before grabbing her phone out of his lap and slamming his car door shut. She heard Erik's annoying laugh loud and clear as she stomped her way up the steps to her door. Erik's slowly pulled away making sure she got in safely and when she did he speed away.

Soon as he stopped at a red light he grabbed his phone and went to his new contact: Israel (with the pleading face emoji) since it described her best. His fingers work at the speed of light as he tried to send the text before the lights turn green.

Good night, princess. Imma see you soon so you don't gotta pout and shit alright? He sent and almost instantly she read it. The gray dots appeared and vanished then reappeared and then her rely popped on his screen. Ok :) it was simple but it made him smile.

He almost sent her a text back but decided to just leave it at that. She was happy and fine now so there was no need to reply back.

_________

Sorry about the weird spacing in some areas Tumblr be weird sometimes with that. 

#black panther killmonger #erik killmonger #erik stevens fanfiction #erik stevens fic #erik x oc #black panther #killmonger x oc #killmonger fic #killmonger fanfiction #killmonger x reader #killmonger imagine

[boldlyvoid]

Amoreena | Chapter Nine

chapter nine

main summary: Heaven is a real place and it's located exactly 14.6 miles away from the FBI, Quantico Headquarters. Off behind a small park, under a fantastical willow tree surrounded by wildflowers, in every colour young minds can imagine.

Don't forget, heaven also comes with angels.

Chapter Warnings: date night!! this is very fluffy, very emotional and extremely horny. edgar allan poe is rolling in his grave at what they did in his enchanted garden

exhibitionism, public sex (no ones there tho), drug mentions at the end (let me know if I should tag anything else!!!!)

word count: 5.4k

from the beginning <3

He spent all of Thursday afternoon with Penelope in Richmond, setting up for his date that night.

Stringing lights on the trees, mowing the grass and trimming the flowers back, the staff ensuring that the museum was in pristine condition for them tonight, it was perfect. The cats were brushed, there were rose petals the fountain and the most beautiful picnic set up in the garden.

Penelope packed their dinner for them, keeping it in the museum fridge for when they finally arrived, it was the only thing Spencer needed to remember.

Y/N: just got home, about to get ready! Can’t wait to see you at 6 ♥︎

Spencer smiled at his phone, about to text her back when Penelope laid a hand on his back, “change into your suit and head back to her, traffic might be bad?”

“Thank you, for everything. You’ve always been my best friend, more of big sister actually,” Spencer pressed his lips together tightly as to not get emotional. “You’re wonderful Penelope, thank you.”

“Awe!” She swooned, wrapping him up in a big hug. “I will always love you, Spencer, you deserve all of this and so, so much more, now go before I cry.”

He laughed, pulling back, hand lingering on her shoulder as he walked into the museum. They let him change in the backroom, it felt incredibly strange to be putting on a suit inside Edgar Allan Poe's house to go pick up his wife. Not too long ago he dreamed about bringing a girlfriend here someday, life was moving too quickly, he needed a breather.

He kept his suit jacket folded and on the passenger seat as he drove home, where he lived with his family. Even just thinking that as he paid attention to the road made him smile. The wind hitting his face, his hair blowing in the breeze, he felt free at last.

He was where he was supposed to be, all roads lead to here.

Travelling up her driveway with a smile on his face as the dust followed him to her doorstep. She was waiting in a red dress on the porch, Amoreena and her nanny eating pizza on the steps as they waited for him.

Stepping out of his car, he straightened his tie and pulled his pants up more, looking at his wife like she was a star plucked from the sky, landing in this Virginia field for him.

She stood then, her satin dress flowing and exposing a leg as she walked down the steps to him, “Is this what you wanted?” She twirled in front of him to show it all off, her hair getting stuck in her lipstick and making her laugh.

“I love you,” is all he can say as she leaning in with a wide grin, surpassing the smile to kiss him gently, using her thumb to get all the lipstick off his bottom lip and chin.

“Love you too, cutie,” she winked, taking his hand and turning back towards Amoreena, “listen to Nanny, remember we love you and we will see you no earlier than 7:30 tomorrow, okay?”

“Yes ma’am!” She saluted, mouth full of pizza.

“And what are the new rules about coming into our bed in the morning?”

“Knock first, wait till you respond, don’t come in unless you say it’s okay,” Amoreena replied, sticking her tongue out at her as she remembered it all.

“Smartie pants,” Y/N smiled at her, “come give us a hug, don’t get pizza on my dress, please.”

Amoreena wiped her sleeve over her mouth before running into her mother's open arms, they shared goodbye kisses before it was Spencer’s turn. She held him so tight it felt wonderful, “goodnight Lovey, I’ll see you tomorrow morning, have the best sleep ever for me?”

“I’ll see you in dreamland,” she replied, kissing his cheek gently before she pulled back.

“Have fun!” Nanny called from the porch as Amoreena skipped back to her.

“We will,” Spencer replied, taking Y/N’s hand and leading her to the passenger side, he opened her door and helped her inside, insuring her dress was inside before closing the door.

Jogging back to his door, he got in and put on his seatbelt. He threw the car in reverse and turned around by the barn, heading down the driveway, not saying a single thing as Y/N stared at him.

“You’re really not going to tell me anything?” She shook her head, licking her lip before biting it as she huffed.

“We’re going to Richmond, Virginia, to read,” he gave her one hint.

“Hmm,” she smiled, “I’m sure you won't tell me the title, so Mr. I can remember every book ever, what’s a random line in it?”

“You’re smart,” he teased her, “but for the brilliant green of the huge leaves that spread from their summits in long, tremulous lines, dallying with the Zephyrs—”

“We’re going to the Edgar Allan Poe Museum!” She cut him off with a cheer.

He slows down on the barren dirt road, mouth wide open as she got it right, he turns to her as they come to a complete stop, “how the heck did you get that?”

“Yes!” she laughed, tossing her head back as she clapped and kicked her feet a little, so proud of herself, “I’m a librarian, Spencer! Did you think I wouldn’t know Eleonora?”

“That’s the most random sentence in the whole poem?” Spencer was shocked, she recalled it faster than he thought he would be able to if she read a line to him.

“My brother’s first motorcycle was a Zephyr,” she smiled at him, raising her eyebrows. “My brain is kinda like a filing cabinet, if you give me a word I can remember everything I’ve ever heard with that word included.”

He started to drive again, shaking his head as he paid attention to the road but still astounded by how amazing she is. “Amoreena gets that from you then, she could have both our eidetic memories together, that would be very interesting to see.”

“Eidetic memory?” She questioned.

“It’s what most people call photographic memory,” Spencer explained. “You can remember everything you hear which is why you and Amoreena are able to recall songs, books and movie facts so fast, while I can read back to you anything I’ve read without having to see it again, it’s forever in my mind.”

“So we’re both geniuses, cool,” Y/N smiled at him again, “sorry I ruined your surprise.”

“You just know where we’re going,” he reminded her, laying his hand on hers, interlocking their fingers as he drove.

They had an hour alone before the real date started.

So she showed him all of her favourite songs, including some of Amoreena’s playlists so he could get familiar with them before their trip to Rhode Island. Her voice was impeccable, she knew all the words and harmonies, often opting to cove background voices he wouldn’t have even known were there if it wasn’t for her.

She loved music in a way that intrigued him, she enjoyed music with a story. Much like the reason she loved books so much, she enjoyed picturing the happy places in her mind that the songs were able to take her to, they filled her with glee and hope as she sang to her heart's content. Taking short breaks to explain the meanings of songs, to recite the best lyrics and why the songs are close to her heart.

“Do you want to hear the song that reminds me the most of you?” She asked between songs, pausing so that nothing else would start.

“Sure,” he blushed, nervous for what it could be and how she imagined him in her mind, hoping he could live up to it.

“I'm perfectly fine I live on my own, I made up on my mind, I'm better off bein' alone. We met a few weeks ago, now you try on callin' me, baby, like tryin' on clothes,”

She stares at him with a beautiful smile as she waits to see his reaction to the opening, finally singing when the beat drops, dancing softly in her seat as she belted the words out to him.

“So prove to me I'm your American Queen, and you move to me like I'm a Motown beat, and we rule the kingdom inside my room,” She brushed her hand across his jaw, teasing him as the words flow from her lips to his ears, she loves him and he can feel it with every syllable.

“And all at once, you are the one I have been waiting for, King of my heart, body and soul, ooh whoa! And all at once, you are all I want, I'll never let you go King of my heart, body and soul, ooh whoa,” she sings so softly, with a purpose, turning it down a little so that he can talk to her.

“I love you,” he reminded her, “so much it hurts sometimes.”

“It’s like your heartstrings are tugging on each other, right?” She agreed, “like they want to jump out of our chests and run to each other.”

He nodded with a soft smile, reaching for her hand again holding it as he brought it to his mouth for a kiss, “queen of my heart.”

“Hmmm,” she thought over his words, “I’m pretty content with being princess still, Lady Amoreena is in line for the thrown, it’s part of her namesake after all.”

“Does the kingdom have a name?”

“You know the Elton John song Goodbye Yellow Brick Road?” She waited for his nod, “my grandma called it Ozellous so it’s like wizard of Oz but I added the 'ellous' because people always said they were jealous of our farm.”

He’s trying his best to keep his eyes on the road when all he want’s to do is look at her smile, to see her pupil change as she recalls the loving memory, it’s his favourite thing to do. Better than any movie or play, seeing her face was better than looking at the most expensive art piece. He was so in love with all of her.

“Were you like Amoreena as a kid?”

“Oh yeah,” she laughed, “bullied hardcore for it too, kids always told me to shut up cause I’d add facts to conversations I wasn’t a part of.”

“I would have loved to listen,” Spencer replied softly, knowing the feeling all too well.

They were only a few minutes away now, turning into the small town and passing quaint little homes and cottages. “Amoreena would love this drive, these are some interesting townspeople homes for her imagination, we should come back sometime this summer.”

His heart was going to actually explode, she was everything he never knew he needed.

“I’d love that,” he added as they pulled into the museum. “I’m a museum member and I’m a patron, so sometimes I donate rare pieces I find, they love me here.”

Her mouth opened to speak, but her eyes got caught on the twinkling lights in the distance, mesmerized by everything. Old cobblestone streets, brick buildings and wooden gates, it was straight out of the 1800s and absolutely fantastical.

“And it’s all ours for the night,” he put the car in park and turned to her, “wait here?”

She nodded, speechless as she continued to look out the window at everything. Spencer got out of the car, opening the back seat to grab and put on his jacket, straighten out his suit before opening her door and extending a hand to help her out.

“Princess,” he extended his arm for her to tuck her own under, he closed her door and escorted her through the gate and towards the garden.

The sun was just starting to set, 7 pm in early June being the most beautiful time of year in rural Virginia, the sky was a perfect purple as he leads her through the stone arches towards the picnic.

Her eyes sparkled with all the lights, wide and pupils blown as she took it all in. It was a fairytale, she was in a princess dress, he was the king of her heart and this was just the beginning of happily ever after.

“Spencer, whatever your middle name is, Reid,” she gasped, swatting his arm lightly with a smile growing on her face.

“It’s Walter,” he smiled right back.

He let go of her hand then and walked over to a table, turning on the record player and dropping the needle in the right spot. He did his research into some Taylor Swift songs, finding one that reminded him the most of Y/N and how much he loved her.

“May I have this dance?” He asks as she notices the all too familiar guitar strumming.

He reaches a hand out for her, pulling her in as she takes it, “I was so so lost before I found you in the park,” he explains the first verse, barely a whisper beside her ear as they start to sway.

There I was again tonight forcing laughter, faking smiles Same old tired, lonely place Walls of insincerity Shifting eyes and vacancy, vanished when I saw your face

“All I can say is it was enchanting to meet you,” he whispers once more, feeling the goosebumps bursting on her bare arms.

He spun her around, extending both their arms as she twirled out and then back into his embrace again with a giggle. She swayed back and forth, dancing with him like the night they got married in her field.

Your eyes whispered "have we met?" Across the room your silhouette starts to make it's way to me The playful conversation starts Counter all your quick remarks, like passing notes in secrecy

“And it was enchanting to meet you, All I can say is I was enchanted to meet you,” he sings them this time, spinning her out again as the chorus hits, her eyes widening as she began to smile wider than he’s ever seen before.

They sang the words together as they danced, smiling and laughing as they moved around the cobblestone. Finding a rhythm so perfect, so them, it was silly and not on beat in the slightest, mostly spinning, it was a spinning song if the album cover was any indication.

This night is sparkling, don't you let it go I'm wonderstruck, blushing all the way home I'll spend forever wondering if you knew I was enchanted to meet you!

“The lingering question kept me up, Two a.m., who do you love? I wonder till I'm wide awake! Now I'm pacing back and forth, wishing you were at my door, I'd open up and you would say, hey! It was enchanting to meet you, all I know is I was enchanted to meet you,” Y/N’s voice softer than ever as she sang her anxieties into his ear, remembering the day at the museum where she wondered if she could have him all to herself.

This night is sparkling, don't you let it go I'm wonderstruck, blushing all the way home I'll spend forever wondering if you knew This night is flawless, don't you let it go I'm wonderstruck, dancing around all alone I'll spend forever wondering if you knew I was enchanted to meet you

Spinning around in circles she leaves his grasp, dress circling in the wind and he watches her. She takes both his hands and spins around with him in a tight circle before pulling back in, their chests bumping as they laughed, happier than he’s ever been in his entire life, and she’s made him pretty happy in the last few weeks.

The girl of his dreams, dancing around him with a smile like she was making her own music video. This was a dream of hers he didn’t know, making it come true as it became a dream of his own.

He places his hands on her cheeks as he stares into her eyes, “this is me praying that this was the very first page, not where the storyline ends. My thoughts will echo your name until I see you again. These are the words I held back, as I was leaving too soon, I was enchanted to meet you,” he whisper’s the words, barely singing, more talking.

“Please don't be in love with someone else. Please don't have somebody waiting on you. Please don't be in love with someone else. Please don't have somebody waiting on you,” she sings right back to him, staring into his eyes as they stand still in the garden.

She pulls him into a kiss, breathing in deeply through her nose as they hold each other’s cheeks, unable to get closer as they kissed. Pulling away with a loud smooch sound, smiling before taking her hands in his, once more.

Spinning her around again as the beat drops once more, her smile more beautiful than the first time he saw it. He was so madly in love, he firmly believed he was in heaven.

This night is sparkling, don't you let it go I'm wonderstruck, blushing all the way home I'll spend forever wondering if you knew!!

This night is flawless, don't you let it go I'm wonderstruck, dancing around all alone I'll spend forever wondering if you knew I was enchanted to meet you!

Please don't be in love with someone else Please don't have somebody waiting on you

“Now go stand in the corner and think about what you did,” Taylor Swift's voice cuts into the beautiful moment as her songs change and the mood drastically changes.

Y/N bursts out in laughter, jumping lightly as she enjoyed the song, head-banging along as she danced by herself until Spencer turned the music off once again, “you’re so cute.”

“Thank you,” she bowed, “this is cute!”

“There’s a picnic basket in the fridge inside, and some wine if you think that’s a good idea?” Pointing towards the main house, she followed him towards the door.

“Oh, hello?” Her voice changed as she noticed the two black cats on the window, letting Spencer head inside for the basket as she talked to them.

“That’s Edgar and Pluto, the groundskeeper found them in the shed in 2012,” Spencer explains as he comes back out, basket in hand but she’s too busy with the cats to notice.

Petting both their faces, they stretch into her reach and bask in the feeling of her nails on their skin, Spencer would agree it felt nice. He loved the feeling of her hands in his hair, he must have been a cat in his last life.

“Amoreena wants her own indoor cat,” Y/N smiled wide at him, “she always wanted to call him Hercules like the Elton John song, almost like she knew you were her dad all along.”

She took his free hand then, following him towards the blanket in the grass, “how?”

“There’s a line in the song about Greek gods, but it says Hercules on her side and Diana in her eyes, and she does have your mom's eyes, right down to the colour of her iris,” Y/N looked at him like he was everything to her.

Spencer couldn’t speak, he just set the basket on the ground and ushered her to sit down beside him. She held the skirt of her dress up so she could sit crisscross applesauce on the blanket, draping her dress over her legs so she didn’t show anything off just yet.

“Every time I look at you I understand all her quirks and her facial expressions,” she added like she was trying to make him cry, “I’ve been looking at her for almost 8 years now, wondering who you were and now I know, and you’re so much better than I ever imagined.”

“Would you have looked for me when she turned 18?” Is all he can ask through his sniffles, trying to hold it together for her.

She nodded, “I was going to tell her soon anyway, she asks a lot of questions I’m not sure if you noticed.” Her giggle was priceless, “she had lots of questions when the goats were born this year and that meant her asking more about making human babies and I just said a special man helped me make my dreams come true, and she thought it was Rumpelstiltskin.”

Spencer couldn’t fight the laugh that erupted from him, leaning forward as he chuckled, making her laugh too. “Does she even know the whole story?”

“She’s only seen the 4th Shrek movie with him, she has no idea that he also takes the babies,” Y/N placed her hand on his knee gently, “If I get pregnant again, I’m going to tell her about how it all works as simply as possible, I want her to feel included in this and she’ll be less jealous if she sees this as a learning opportunity.”

“That’s a good idea,” he agreed, “I still can't believe she almost punched Michael for hugging me.”

“Oh, I can,” Y/N laughed again, “she was being bullied last year by an older kid and I said if someone upsets you or hurts you, sometimes it’s not that bad to hurt them back. Make them know you’re not weak and you care about yourself, and she gave a kid a black eye for tugging on her braid.”

Spencer couldn’t stop smiling, “that’s my girl.”

Y/N opened the picnic basket then, taking everything out with a smile as Spencer stared at her, thinking a million different thoughts about future kids, how Amoreena would grow up, seeing her as a big sister to hopefully many.

They both leaned forward and kissed softly, smiling as they pulled back, “so you like charcuterie?”

She laughed, “Amoreena called it shark coochie once, I can’t not think of that now.”

“How many kids do you want?”

“Have you ever read cheaper by the dozen?” She teased him. “As many as I can have, I have the funds thanks to my job and the farm and not having to pay a mortgage, I was going to have another baby next year anyway, I had an appointment and everything scheduled, I even tried to get them to contact Amoreena’s father for another sample but they said they couldn’t ask you outright for me.”

“They asked me if I wanted to give another sample when I asked if I could know my kids,” Spencer remembered the words exactly, “she said ‘You have four offspring so far, none of the other samples used have produced a child, the women were all IVF as well so it wasn’t your swimmer's fault if you wanted to donate again.’”

“I don’t want to know the truth, are you okay if we let her decide if she wants to find out at 18?” Y/N asked softly, “I’m content thinking you’re her father, I don’t want to know if it’s some other tall who-lookin’ genius, okay?”

“That’s perfect actually,” Spencer agreed, “and on the kids front, you don’t mind me being in my 70s when they all start going to University?”

“My dad is 68 with no signs of stopping, and he’s still fantastic with his grandkids,” Y/N always had a fact to combat his anxiety. “You have a lot of life left in you, I’ll take good care of you so that they have the best dad ever for as long as possible.”

Spencer was so in love with his family he felt like he was floating, laughing and smiling all meal long as they shared facts back and forth about their lives. Getting to know each other more and more as the seconds passed, he imagined it would be like this forever. She was like a bottomless pit of information, facts, stories and secrets. He loved every single one she shared with him.

She poured herself a second small glass of wine, “you know they say that one glass of wine every once in a while is actually good for the baby?”

“It doesn’t work that fast,” he reminded her, more like he reminded himself. He didn’t want to hope in the chance it didn’t happen right away.

“I had a nightmare last night for the first time in a long time, so I think it worked,” she teased him. “I won't know till June 10th, that's when my next period would be.”

“Nightmare?” It was the only part he picked up on, worried for her and wondering why she didn’t wake him up.

She nodded softly, “I found out I was pregnant and you never came home, and I got lost in the forest looking for you and then I remembered I could wake up.”

He rests his hand on her knee, rubbing his thumb against her bare skin softly, “I’m always coming home to you.”

“I know, when I got pregnant with Amoreena I had bad dreams in the first few weeks too, mostly about giving birth to nothing and being alone all over again, the subconscious and pregnancy hormones are mean as fuck when they hang out,” she laughed away the pain, “I know none of it is real.”

“Good,” he whispered, not knowing what really to say, he wasn’t used to soothing other people yet. Most people didn’t want his facts or concernment when something happened, just a hug normally.

She took a deep breath, pushing everything away, “good news, either my anxiety disorder is back in full swing or something’s working in here,” she laid her hand over her stomach, “either way, I’d like to try again tonight?”

He laughed, “we don’t need to make a baby every time you want to have sex?”

She got onto her knees then, crawling over the blanket and sitting right in Spencer's lap with her hands on both of his cheeks, “I want all your babies.”

He held her waist, pulling her in closer to his chest, “right now?”

She nodded, moving her dress out of the way to undo his belt, “no one is here right? It’s not like anyone would know?”

“Mhmm,” he agreed, kissing her neck as she unzipped his pants, moving his underwear out of the way just enough to free his hardening cock, she stroked it right there in the middle of the garden, staring down between their bodies in awe as he came to life.

Sitting up on her knees more, the slit of her dress made it a lot easier for her to show him her underwear. She was wearing just a thong, perfect for pulling to the side as she lowered herself onto him, ever so slowly.

She fixed her dress around them, completely calm and composed as he was fully inside of her, “you’re okay with this?”

He huffed a laugh out of his nose, dropping his forehead to her shoulder so he couldn’t buck into her and ruin the moment she was making, his hands moving to her hips, guiding her back and off him slightly before back down again, making her gasp.

“I thought you wanted to read?” She teased him as she started to ride him more, moving her hips in a way that took him in and out of her at just the right angle, her hands on his shoulders as she bounced on him lightly, he couldn’t even think straight. “Go on, read to me.”

He took a second to remember the words, mind totally somewhere else and not interested in a book at all when her boobs were right in his face.

“I am come of a race noted for vigor of fancy and ardor of passion,” the first sentence slipped past his lips as she kept going, he took a moment to kiss right under her ear before continuing.

“Men have called me mad; but the question is not yet settled, whether madness is or is not the loftiest intelligence—whether much that is glorious—whether all that is profound—does not spring from disease of thought—from moods of mind exalted at the expense of the general intellect.”

“Shit,” she moaned, pushing his hand down towards her clit, “you can multitask, smartie pants.”

His thumb was on a mission then, rubbing small circles against her pleasure point, she tossed her head back with her eyes closed as she continued to ride him, “I don’t hear you reading?”

He moaned softly in her ear at the feeling, and the fact she wanted to get off to hearing him recite something from memory, it was more euphoric than he could have ever imagined.

“They who dream by day are cognizant of many things which escape those who dream only by night. In their gray visions they obtain glimpses of eternity, and thrill, in ah- awakening, fuck,” he was trying his best to stay as composed as she was when he really just wanted to lay her against the blanket and fuck her into next week.

“to find that they have been upon the verge of the great secret,” Y/N whispered the end of the sentence, grinding down on him harder than before.

“In snatches, they learn something of the wisdom which is of good,” she whispered into his ear, biting his earlobe softly with a moan and he kept rubbing her clit, “you’re so good, Spencer, so so good," she paused to enjoy the moment before whispering in his ear once more, "And more of the mere knowledge which is of evil. They penetrate, however, rudderless or compass-less into the vast ocean of the "light ineffable," and again, like the adventures of the Nubian geographer, "agressi sunt mare tenebrarum, quid in eo esset exploraturi.”

Her words softer than ever and they were never going to get to the end of this poem, he'd never know how the rest of the words sound on her tongue, she pulled him into a kiss then, moaning into his mouth as they ground against each other, finding a perfect rhythm to bring them to the end.

“There, yes, fuck,” she whispered against his lips, pushing against him as she arched her back slightly, slipping away from his mouth as she did so.

He slammed into her then as he chased her lips, making her whimper one last time before she was shaking in his lap, her legs quivering as she finished on him, sending him over the edge and stilling as he came with a shudder. He held her so close, both of them breathing into each other's mouths as they came down, kissing and smiling as they stayed connected.

“We’ll name her Eleonora,” Y/N teased, pulling off him and laying back against the blanket.

He made sure her underwear was back in the right spot before covering her with her dress again and sliding himself back into his underwear.

“Amoreena and Eleonora have a good ring to it, we just need 10 more names,” he teased right back.

“Hopefully we have a little boy one day too,” she smiled as she tugged him down beside her, cuddling into her side as they stared up at the newly dark blue sky and the array of stars that decided to join them this evening.

“Even if it’s just Amoreena, I’ve never been happier in my whole life than when I’m with you,” he whispered. “Thank you.”

“For what?” She asked, purely to keep hearing his voice.

“Making me want to get up in the morning again, giving me a reason not to buy drugs for something euphoric to happen to me, showing me real love and proof that happiness is possible if you just chose to be happy,” he gave example after example.

“I thought I learned everything the world had to offer, but you’ve been showing me new little life hacks that make the world so much better, I see a future of bright colours and happiness and laughter for the first time ever, so thank you.”

She held him closer, “it’s been a pleasure falling in love with you, together, you deserve to love yourself. You’re so wonderful Spencer, it breaks my heart to know that anyone has ever made you feel the opposite.”

He couldn’t speak anymore, turning to kiss her neck and cheek so he had something to do that wasn’t crying. He loved her so incredibly deeply that he felt like he was an anchor, dropping to the bottom of her deepest ocean, without a single plan to leave.

tag list: @shemarmooresfedora @spencers-dria @spookyspence @reidsfish @manuosorioh @mochionly @samuel-de-champagne-problems @jswessie187

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid request #criminal minds smut #criminal minds imagine #amoreena

[theravenclawlover]

Welcome to the Industry of Porn

Paring: Avengers X Female!Reader

Warnings: +18, heavy smut, drinking, slight angst in later chapters, fluff if you squint, and my English as usual.

Word Count: 3,811.

Summary: AU where the Avengers are Pornstars. It’s pretty self-explanatory.

Chapter: 3.

Chapter Title: Shall we begin?

A/N: This part is where we get to see some more cameos baby. I swear, I still do not know what made me want to write an AU about the Avengers as pornstars, like the hell? Please, I have never not even in other fandoms seen anyone thinking about this idea which made me feel like a complete idiot at first. Now, I'm just here remembering what my seventeen-year-old self thought was somewhat cool shit. Also, let's pretend the people in the gif are actually wearing fancy gala dresses and tuxedos because I couldn't find anything.

Mr. Dickenson had made it sound like heaven when he had told you about the offers that had been offered to you, but now as you read away the contracts you thought it was hell. You thought that it was going to be easy to understand guidelines and whatnot, but honestly, it felt like it was a lawyer's job to read those contracts. But Cassie helped you read them and gave you a rundown on what it said. After understanding what all three contracts entailed, Cassie and you did a deep search on the directors to see if you liked their work. Out of the three, one of them seemed to be more professional than the others. While all of them seemed like good directors neither of you could deny that the other two lacked the originality of the Russo’s. They were brothers and they seemed to have a knack for making amateur videos feel natural rather than tacky and cringe. Granted, most of the time it was because of the actors overexaggerating things, but the director could always ask to tone it down. You had only watched the amateur videos because you didn’t want to get your hopes up if you found out they worked for bigger companies. Cassie had made a face before saying that it was a ridiculous thing to do but promised you that she wasn’t going to look more things up.

After that, it wasn’t hard to make a decision, and it had only taken you the majority of the week you had been given. Cassie had told you that she had a good feeling about the Russo’s when you had asked her if you were picking the right choice. You nodded to yourself before calling Mr. Dickenson the next morning to tell him that you had opted to work with the Russo’s. He had been glad to hear the news and had told you not to sign the contract yet as you would be doing that after the meeting on Wednesday where the Russo’s were going to be meeting you. Then he reminded you about the nudes and you had almost groaned at the thought.

It was awkward. You had reminded Cassie about it, who, for some reason, was excited about it. She had rambled on about how she loved doing those types of shoots. You had forgotten that Cassie had done a project with some of the volunteers she had managed to scout around campus where they had to pose in the nude. She had done a wonderful job, but you reminded her that for the most part, they had been covering themselves with a satin sheet while you were to be completely exposed. Her spirits didn’t lower after that, and she was a sweetheart as she tried to make you comfortable to the best of her abilities. You had to admit that no matter how awkward it’d been, you felt good about yourself afterward.

By Wednesday morning you felt ready. Cassie couldn’t help but smile at the way you seemed to have a little more confidence about the opportunity you had been given by deciding to find a job in such a challenging career choice.

“Good morning, Miss Y/l/n. I’m guessing you’re here for your meeting,” greeted the secretary, Jules, as you and Cassie walked out of the elevator.

“Yes, I know we are a little early, but traffic wasn’t that bad this morning,” you said as you walked toward the comfortable chairs.

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” she said as she stood from her chair behind the counter, “come on, I’ll take you to the conference room.”

You and Cassie followed her into the room. It had a long table that could be used for a conference for more than twenty people.

“Now you wait here while I announce Mr. Dickenson of your arrival,” she said as she walked toward the door, “if you would like some light breakfast to be brought to you, just dial twenty-one and ask for the menu.”

She left after that and Cassie didn’t hesitate to grab the phone and dial the number. She ordered some fruit and waffles while you had opted to order everything that sounded good. Within ten minutes, a young man walked in with a food cart and situated it near where the coffee maker was set up. After he excused himself, you and Cassie ate in silence while you two waited for Mr. Dickenson and the Russo’s.

Five minutes after having used the restroom, the door opened to reveal Mr. Dickenson and two other men walk in.

“Good morning, ladies,” said Mr. Dickenson as he walked in. You and Cassie got up and walked toward the men as you both greeted them.

“These are Anthony and Joe Russo,” he motioned to each man as he named them. Then he motioned to you and Cassie, “and these are Y/n and her chaperone/manager, Cassie Ayers.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” both men said at the same time as one went for your hand to shake while the other one went to greet Cassie, and then vice versa.

“Likewise,” you both said.

“Come on, let us begin,” said Mr. Dickenson as he motioned to the seats. Everyone sat at one end of the table, ready to get everything in motion.

“I’m guessing you’ve read the whole contract,” you nodded at Mr. Dickenson, “which means there’s nothing much to go through unless you have any concerns and/or questions.”

“No, we’re good. It was pretty understandable,” you said as you sat the big thing in front of you and on top of your nude portfolio.

“Good.”

“We’ve been looking for new faces for a couple of months now, and when Jason sent us your portfolio we knew we needed to get you before someone else did. We are glad to hear you chose us,” said the man that had been introduced as Anthony.

“I don’t know if you got around to see who are some of the people we work with, but I have a feeling that you will be scouted by someone sooner rather than later while you do the small gigs we have in mind for you,” added the man named Joe as he smiled at you.

You smiled as well as you listened to them talk. Soon the conversation revolved around what you would be making as a starting point after they had gone through your photos with you. They told you which angles seemed to be the best ones for you, and while at it, Cassie got her fair share of compliments of her work. They had told you that for any M/F shoot you would get two-hundred dollars, for F/F a total of three-hundred, and for any threesomes, it would be four-hundred, while anything more than four people would go up to five-hundred. An extra hundred would be added to anything that was considered hardcore such as bondages and anything that included unconventional kinks.

After some more talking, you signed the annual contract and celebrated your official introduction to the industry of pornography.

Two Months Later

Oddly enough, you couldn’t be happier with your life choices. Soon after having signed with the Russo’s, within a month, you had managed to work up to ten different gigs. You had finally made enough money to afford going out without having to check your bank account to see you if could afford anything. Granted, you had to make a different account as your main one was under your parent’s name and they could see anything that got deposited. You were not about to tell them that you were a pornstar as well as a college dropout.

All your gigs were pretty standard, and once in a while you got to play a younger step-sister or naughty neighbor, and there’s that one time you had gotten around to play a shy secretary for a knack of dropping pens. You found it fun to play with other people, let yourself step out from your reality, and enjoy a good fuck every so often. You had gotten lucky, you knew that, as you hadn’t had the need to fake orgasms while you did your job. But there was the occasional one after already having had one where you needed to fake it.

But after every shoot, and after getting home, you would feel like crap about everything. Cassie was getting nervous as the days flew past as midterms had come around and you knew that sooner or later the holidays would come around as well, and you would have to face your parents. Your supposed graduation was only six months away and you had yet to tell your parents about your idiotic decision to waste every cent they had spent on your education. But all that guilt would go away every time you got another gig or whenever a new package arrived. The mail person probably could recognize you at random with the number of times they’ve seen you from dropping off something you bought online.

It was a peaceful Friday afternoon when Mr. Dickenson—who you now called Jason—had called you.

“Hello?” you answered as you muted your favorite show.

“Hey, could you come to my office tomorrow morning?” he said.

“Sure, everything alright?” you asked as you walked toward the kitchen to grab a quick snack.

“Yeah, nothing to worry about. The Russo’s and I need to talk to you and Cassie about an event that is coming up. Can you be here by ten? I have to pick up my mother after that, so it’s the only time it works for me,” he said in an almost sheepish voice. You smiled.

“Sure, don’t worry about it. Cassie might ask for your head on a silver platter, but I think I can calm her down with some coffee on the way there,” you said as you threw yourself on the couch again.

“Lord,” he huffed a laugh, “alright, I’ll see you both tomorrow then.”

You both said your goodbyes before he hung up.

Cassie had groaned when you told her about the meeting, the poor girl was exhausted, and she just wanted to sleep through the weekend before the next week came. You had only offered her a sheepish smile and the promise of iced coffee. She begrudgingly accepted as she went to bed early, so she wouldn’t be snappy in the morning.

“So, this supposed to be like the Oscars but with raunchy movies?” you said as you summarized the important event the men had talked about.

“To simplify it, yes, the Adult Entertainment Expo or AEE is based on the Oscars, but we are attending the after-party only, the show itself is not that entertaining,” said Jason as he sipped his hot coffee.

“The after-party is said to be better than the Golden Globes’ one, and that comes from the mouth of big celebrities that have gone to both,” said Joe as he stirred his lukewarm tea.

“That’s why not a lot of people get the invitation to it,” added Anthony as he finished his own cup of coffee.

“So, why are we talking about this? It’s not like we were invited,” said Cassie with a confused look. Her face looking less grumpy from what you had seen when she came out of her room earlier that morning.

“Well, you two might not be, but we are, and I think it would be a great opportunity for the both of you to be exposed to the people there,” said Jason as he looked at the both of you, “that’s the best place to find connections to get great opportunities, not to mention you might become close friends with a celebrity or two.”

“Y/n, I was wondering if you would like to attend as my plus one?” asked Joe with a sweet smile.

“Of course, I would love to. It sounds fun,” you said as you chuckled.

“And would you like to be my plus one, Cassie? The food is great,” said Jason as he looked over to the redhead. She smiled and rolled her eyes at that last comment.

“Sure, but if I see one of my celebrity crushes, I’m ditching you,” she said as she gave him a wink. Everyone let out a chuckle.

The meeting ended soon after as Jason had to leave for the airport to pick up his mom. Before he had left, he had told you both that Jules would help you out with the dress shopping the next day as she knew the places to look for the best dresses. He had given no room to oppose him, and like that, you and Cassie had spent all Sunday looking for a dress to wear the approaching Friday.

It had taken you most of the late morning and afternoon to find a dress that you both felt comfortable wearing. Jules had announced that morning that Jason was paying for everything either of you bought that day which had you looking at prices more than you did it when it came to your money. You had told her that he needn’t pay for anything, but Jules had been ordered to do so, which made you roll your eyes. Sure, the three of you had become quick friends while working together, but you still felt a little weird accepting the man’s willingness to pay for everything. What if you had expensive taste? His wallet would cry.

By the end of the day, you two arrived home with more bags than you could carry. Everything was set for Friday night, even the plane tickets to Las Vegas had been taken care of. Nothing could bring your or Cassie’s spirits down, not even the stupid voicemail her ex-boyfriend had left while you two were out had killed her high spirits.

The entirety of the week that followed was spent trying to find the right makeup look and hairdo. YouTube became your best friend that week, and so did that lady that was fantastic in the arts of makeup and hair. Compared to her, you were shit, even the way you applied mascara seemed heinous compared to her expert hands.

When Friday came around, and you two were in Las Vegas after taking an early flight, you and Cassie had taken the liberty of doing a small photoshoot at the hotel room while you two waited for the limousine to arrive later that night. By ten-thirty, there was a knock on your hotel room door. When you opened the door, Jason and Joe stood there with their fancy and expensive-looking tuxedos.

“Ladies, you both look devilishly good,” said Jason with a casual smirk.

“Thank you,” you both replied as you both rolled your eyes at the man’s antics.

“You two will definitely fit in with the crowd,” added Joe as he gave both of you a sweet smile.

You both proceeded to accept the helping hands they gave you both as the men led both of you toward the elevator and down to the awaiting limousine. Anthony was waiting inside with his date, the woman had introduced herself as Sandy. She also worked for the Russo’s, but you hadn’t had the chance to work with her. She was a couple of years older than you and was nice enough to reassure both of you that everything was going to be okay and that there was nothing to worry about but the flashing of the cameras that awaited by the purple carpet.

When the car stopped, you were able to hear the muffled voices of people shouting names as they asked people to look toward them so they could get better angles. That alone had your hands going absolutely cold from anxiousness, but you had no time to panic as the door opened and Jason climbed out first as he grabbed Cassie’s shaking hand. When it was your turn, you gave a deep breath before climbing out as you tried not to flinch from the flashes.

The adrenaline you felt as you smiled at the cameras as they directed them to you and Joe was something else. You were new to this world, so it was no surprise when a couple of people asked Joe about who you were as he walked you down toward the building where the booming music was coming from.

Once inside, that adrenaline was completely different. The atmosphere was like nothing else you had ever experienced at a club. The music was good, the ambiance was comfortable, and the people looked like they had come out from magazines. As you walked down toward an open sitting area, you and Cassie couldn’t help but motion with your heads whenever either of you saw a familiar face. By the time you all had made it to an empty booth, you two had seen Chris Pine, Ryan Gosling, Megan Fox, and even Britney Spears was there.

And you both got to meet even more when some of them started to come over and greet the Russo’s like old friends as well as Jason. There had been no time to dance as the chatter had been more entertaining and so was the food, but before anyone could offer a chance to dance, a loud voice called the names of Anthony and Joe as it approached them.

“Tony Stark,” said Jason as he stood to shake the man’s hand, “I was starting to wonder where you were.”

“Couldn’t come sooner, you know with people always trying to catch a contract with me,” he said as he shook the hands of Anthony and Joe as they got up as well before offering the man a seat which he took.

As he talked about how he had almost gotten pinned down into verbally hiring someone, you had stared at the man long enough to realize that he had been the same man who Captain America had called ‘Boss’ the day Jason had decided to send out your portfolio.

“I’m guessing these two gorgeous ladies are your dates?” he said as he glanced at you both, “where is little Jules? I was hoping for that slow dance I never got last time due to the fact I couldn’t even see straight after that last tequila shot.”

“She’s with her boyfriend, they are celebrating their one-year anniversary,” said Jason as he nursed his drink. “This is Cassie, my plus one for tonight.”

Tony grabbed her hand and proceeded to plant a small kiss on the back of her hand.

“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” Cassie choked out a ‘likewise’ as she blushed three shades darker than her hair.

“And this is Y/n, my plus one, and our newest face,” added Joe as he noticed that Tony now looked at you.

He did the same thing to your hand which you had to admit was classy but because of the way he grinned, it also made the gesture naughty.

“It’s always nice to see new faces around here,” he turned to Anthony’s date, “no offense, Sandy.”

“None taken, Stark,” she said with a smirk and a roll of eyes, “did you bring someone with you or is it just you little gang of Avengers?”

“I did bring someone, actually,” he said as he turned his head back to the large crowd, “you remember my assistant, Pepper? She was talking with someone. But my ‘little gang’ as you called it is also here, but I think I lost them.”

Shortly after his response, a beautiful ginger came over to the table with a smile as she called Tony’s name.

“There you are,” she said as she grabbed Tony’s arm, “sorry for interrupting, I just needed breather from that crowd.”

“We were actually just talking about you, Pepper,” said Anthony as he offered some nuts to the woman which she happily took. But before the conversation could start back up, another voice called out the man with the oddly attractive facial hair.

“Tony!” called out a brunet man. Your eyes noticed how his left hand was covered by a leather glove. “We’ve been looking for you. This place can really be a maze when you’re trying to avoid people.”

Just as his face became clearer in the dark place, you noticed how behind him followed two other people. You and Cassie looked at one another as you both recognized the three people who had just arrived at your spacious booth.

“Looks like I was not the only one trying to avoid somebody,” said Tony with a guilty-ish grin.

“You would try to make a fast escape if those two girls from Brazzers were trying to talk your ear off about working with you,” he shivered as if he remembered something he hadn’t wanted to remember, “I’ve done my fair share of questionable acts for the camera, but last year they talked my ear long enough about things that still haunts my dreams.”

“Yikes,” said Tony as he moved to make more room for the three new individuals. “Well, guys and gals, you already know Jason, the Russo’s, and dear old Sandy, but these two beauties are Cassie and Y/n.”

The woman named Pepper introduced herself with a graceful smile while she sneakily pinched Tony’s arm due to his comment that he couldn’t help from making about how lucky Joe and Jason had gotten for the night.

“Hi, the name is James Barnes,” said the brunet man as he leaned over to shake a hand which oddly enough turned out to be a light kiss on the back of both your and Cassie’s hands, “Nice meeting you, ladies.”

“I’m Natasha,” said the woman who had arrived right after James had, “don’t let his suave nature confuse you, he’s an ass.”

The man grunted something as he ate a peanut. Natasha only gave him a side smirk before continuing.

“And this mass of muscles is Steve.” She motioned to the man that couldn’t look more out of place. He seemed to be at ease but whenever he glanced at the crowd, his eyes would widen as if he was freaking out. He gave both of you a sweet smile and he gave a nod along with a soft ‘pleasure to meet you both'.

You and Cassie tried your best to act cool and collected as you both got around answering questions about how you two found yourselves there. It seemed they weren’t used to seeing brand new faces that they saw themselves trying to actually converse with, so the night ended up being full of chatter, laughter, and creating memories.

Who knew that Jason would be right? That night in Las Vegas would bring opportunities for you and Cassie, and for the first time, the saying ‘what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas’ would not apply to either of you.

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