#but if it seems like he was only ever begrudgingly kept around & given that [useful tool] status while other employees got more personal &

[unproduciblesmackdown]

as "let's see if will roland's birthday prompts any billions production clues from posts castmates may make about it" continues to yield "no one's posting about it, while some castmates post about other people's birthdays," already having more thoughts abt [i'm sure he'll show up in at least one episode even if only to be written out] type things like:

a) would be insulting if winston is fired to serve a subplot about philip and taylor having some difficulty in finding their footing re: working together as coheads, like, we're good at anticassandraing things and have gone "lol what if philip & taylor disagreed abt quants in that philip preferred winston. which he feasibly could," so what if instead it's philip arguing that winston should be fired to streamline things or because everyone who's not taylor will want him gone b/c they dislike him, and in learning how to successfully work together, taylor's like well alright. like, don't pit these elements against each other the insult is instead just Anyone, higher ups or lower downs, wanting winston gone b/c they dislike him, so he's fired

b) winston getting bullied by anyone or everyone is seen as him distracting them &/or provoking it with his presence, so he's fired winston being friends w/tuk is seen as a bad influence of loserdom on the latter (or distraction, or annoying, or w/e) so he's fired some Problem that needs solving or otherwise some need to fire Some people that really doesn't have much to do with him gets him fired anyways. like 5x05 all over again, isn't it always. or even if he's particularly involved in some problem you know it'd be something other people could get away with just fine. see:

c) what's even "a problem" like that despite everyone being in a hostile workplace, winston is especially, and we're so graced with dollar bill back on the premises who has already harassed and threatened and assaulted him (not only limiting the lattermost to something like "did he hit you, and like, closed fist, and i mean pretty hard. well that's just what he's like, you're fine." or the way like sabotaging a toilet is just epic pranks and only a problem if something looks bad to theoretical investors and we should talk about what tmc people might be doing to deserve it) while rian has been holding down the fort bullying and using winston. perfectly in line with everything if this kind of thing prompting any hostility in turn is like, nobody blinks at the other stuff, wherein if anything everyone keeps trying to fix dollar bill's feelings for him and talk about how who he's being awful to needs to appease him asap, and rian simply Wanting to use winston as a chew toy is just taken in stride while separately people have already been motivated by theoretically looking out for her / supporting her in various ways as well. whereas if winston Acts like he regards her as a hostile party, which she is, rather than seeming to operate in good faith that they can have regular constructive basic respect interactions, which he does while those decent interactions seem to come through rarely and unreliably, then i'm sure he'd be seen as mean / starting shit / out of line / etc, especially when it seems him Disrespecting the Rules & Social Hierarchy that should disallow him from like, speaking unless it's to self-flagellate, means people see him as aggressive or whatever. basically the classic scenario like, kid's bullied at school, they're supposed to just ignore it or it's otherwise "not that bad" / stuff gotten away with, even if supposedly it's like well just tell an authority figure here, that won't/doesn't work, any resulting obvious tension/dislike between the kid and whoever is like "uh oh, a Both Sides problem" at best, same if there's a physical fight or something or else it's like well That was unacceptable and if it was initiated by Your reaction to all other kinds of terrible treatment for however long, you're the problem. not that i expect winston to throw a punch about it, but, figuratively / parallel to this scenario

d) winston is sick of his deluxe hostile environment, doesn't actually like whatever coheading changes, sick of rian and/or dollar bill specifically, and/or doesn't appreciate some other goings-on, like one that results in him even being threatened with firing, and gets to just quit as has regularly seemed like something he might want to do anyways since 4x11 and intermittently on

e) not really another Way to imagine they kick him out but was thinking how like, Is a reason we're shown that taylor and rian hugging in the middle of an office was seen by i guess winston alone gonna be further relevant at all and about him making anything of it, which, he really couldn't possibly be wrong about any inferences. but going :/ at the taylor and rian dynamic just as a spontaneous, contained event would be self-explanatory too. but had the thought of like, maybe it's all "well taylor's been here 5 seasons and is in a more prominent position than last season, throw a PR problem at them for the first time for real, just as a shakeup / something that throws them off" wherein like winston wouldn't even have to be there to be cited in something like yeah i was fired or quit or whatever else and my former boss is dating an employee i think. or seems to have a real personal preference for them if not personal somethingship. which is true lmfao like? even if winston ""wrongly"" assumes they're dating like "oh sorry these claims are ridiculous, i only proposed as much to this employee who i already was informally mentoring and do favor such that she was promoted offscreen after like half a season to be able to make trades and this only came up when her using that capacity to do some shit she could've been fired for had me like 'but i'll take the heat for it' b/c any feeling that i'd wanna fire you is worth working through as a personal problem, and that employee turned me down not only just b/c apparently dating through work is too much (but not hooking up through work) but because she's afraid of how much she could love me, and now we're further personal somethings or who even knows what's ever been going on and so who can say if we were supposed to have fully closed the door on dating or not, even." wherein like....someone then doing further research consulting with every named tmc employee, in this hypothetical (and ignoring any hypothetical new, named/dialogued hires) scenario all now Former employees except rian who clearly won't have been firedor quit at the start of season 7, b/c yknow god forbid lmao....like, oh i'm taylor's best friend so no comment except that when i'm mad at them i'll apparently say that i always thought they inhumanly don't have feelings and all, very helpful. then there's like, oh yeah i was taylor's employee and dated them until business misalignments lead to a less than ideal breakup, and then kind of an aftershock of that for fun i guess. and then yeah i was also taylor's employee and knew they were dating another employee and i disapproved if only b/c i told them it could look bad but then also one of the reasons leading up to my quitting was having difficulty getting in touch with them while the other employee lived with them at least part of the time and i didn't seem to be a fan of that bonus access re: discussing business getting in the way of the formal structure / chain of command or whatever at work as well which is part of what i was already there to file a complaint over, so....even just the "it does look bad / people do think you leverage status for access to sex through employees" like no but that's My boss though. but also just that yeah taylor has at least tried to date employees twice, and their personal preference does affect professional matters, though that's also just like, pick any place of work and any slice of it, may not be a meritocracy after all versus how much it matters that some people are popular and/or liked by the right people while others can be recognized as Good Employees on paper but be left where they are or antagonized by peers or higher ups b/c of "failing" at the popularity contest aspect. and this could just be some new Kind of problem for taylor, and/or their just having to question themself more. or else go "ugh leave it to winston" and shrug it off once whatever's smoothed over.

f) winston isn't fully written off but rather it's something zany like, the twist is dollar bill coming back (god forbid he didn't either) while mafee, who evidently sees taylor outside work despite it all, is like eh we'll get dinners sometimes too, and does not likewise return despite saying he's the one who'd consider it. winston, being fired, or having quit, or just being unhappy w/things enough to consider it, is like well you're kind of regular at me sometimes and can't yell at me abt loyalty to taylor if neither of us work for them and you have weird confusing ideas about how they should be loyal to you if anything, and i can do the work of 50 phds, and i know you don't know shit abt the math and quanting but if you just leave it up to me entirely, that's pretty much been my work experience thus far anyways. then he'd be filming on different sets, possibly more rarely, and also dan soder has been likewise elusive but is also on site on the two even vaguely or implicitly [s7 production] related pics will's turned up in.

g) idk billions feel free to prank us where once again between seasons we worry winston could be written off but then he isn't, but elusivity paired with suddenly now castmates w/no mention of him for [march 5th] and [we are doing any bday acknowledgments] overlaps that otherwise get posts, especially. weird even if he Was written out in ep one but okay then

#winston billions #maybe he'd feel petty after being disposed of; maybe someone's doing really specific investigative journalism lol.... #although also the idea that lauren's known one ep return last season was like. will This be an unfriendly ex gf/employee using insider info #and if winston were to be fired or quit; no matter the specific reason behind that it's like. how would he have only the fondest memories #he's been here for taylor & i imagine it can be inferred he hopes his Skills being valued are a shot at also being valued as a person #but if it seems like he was only ever begrudgingly kept around & given that [useful tool] status while other employees got more personal & #preferential treatment; which like everyone save sara kinda but she at least got to have substantial & frequent enough exchanges w/taylor #while here's a quant peer he even likes & does keep trying to be amicable with but she also regards & treats him as usable & disposable #while taylor at least ignores & allows this while v much preferring & Would Be dating this employee like. probably could be pissed abt that #and just to go off the shits lol like oh Petty Ex Employee behavior But....add in tayston fwb history lmaooo Like. oof #with some end of s3 into s4 timeline especially like where maybe winston wants a personal somethingship w/them as well but instead the #whole fwbship (& any undiscussed / not directly acknowledged somethingship along with it) was dropped when taylor dated lauren #like yes add in nonzero petty ex something as well lol. or Wish i could be a petty ex but got burned by the implication that like #no taylor doesn't not date employees as a rule nor even seem to worry abt it much personally; On Paper especially re propositioning rian #but also combining [dated lauren] and [dated oscar] stats it's like yeah they Ought to consider winston a romantic candidate as well lol #he Does get [autistic character] different negative / diminishing treatment all round from all elements so like. grievances lol #and of course taylor could choose to be petty ex employer/something as well like great so we're fighting now #and if winston's sharing the other trivia he's not sharing His personal history w/them. and taylor could threaten to but isn't gonna share #that b/c it'd make them look worse too (i am aware of the gfy proximity at this point yes lmfao girl help) but Can throw it in his face #can go after knowing he had that personal somethingship with them; the closest gfy esque thing here would be if taylor was also a bit too #clueless like well that is just hypocritical of you to take issue w/it Or take advantage of it when it suits you....w/o realizing that #element of like yeah i'm jealous actually?? remember when you dumped me to date someone else when [why didn't you date Me].... #or be Aware like well you're jealous actually. and winston can be like Yeah? I Am? lmao. we both know why we're fighting.... #impossible to tell if taylor didn't infer winston might like rian or else just ignored it but they could throw that at him too #i don't really imagine winston still Likes rian crushwise by the end of s6 for sure but. might also be annoyed they even get an affinity #like man don't worry their dynamic really isn't convincingly that good or enjoyable b/w them....missing out on what. #then the most gfy similar thing to do would be like don't take it out on me just b/c nobody would wanna date you #a move that could range from [merely laughably stock pettiness] to [surprisingly genuinely cutting] depending on specific execution ig #anyways whether he's still filming or not; if any cast members were to remember will exists & give us Any info w/acknowledgments we might #expect based on precedent. that it's Axe; Dollar Bill; and Rian who are most firmly established as [will be present] via ppl's posts. Great

[kaizokuniichan]

Zoro x reader; gn! reader; some heavy petting; alcohol use; MDNI; purely self-indulgent

The one in which Zoro finds ways to irk the shit out of you because it’s fun.

(Divider by @cafekitsune )

Zoro loved being annoying. More specifically, he loved annoying you. From the moment you’d stepped aboard the Sunny; wide-eyed and subtly inching away from him, he vowed that his sole purpose was to fuck with you. It was quite easy to fall into that routine, considering there wasn’t much fanfare in the development of your relationship as crew mates. He acted as he pleased simply because it felt right.

You couldn’t stroll past him without him cracking his eye open and calling out to you, badgering you with a lofty quip.

“Oi.”

“What? What is it now?”

“Pass me that bottle of sake.”

You’d look down, noting the bottle mere inches from his boot, and with an exasperated sigh, toss it back to him with all of the force you could muster. He’d catch it one-handed, devilish smirk widening at the impact of it hitting his palm. You’d been trying to aim it at his head, and the thought of your petulance made his ego swell. Irritation radiated off of you, but you’d still obliged. And that fact scratched at something so deep within his chest that he simply couldn’t, and wouldn’t, stop. And that’s all there was to it.

He’d also taken up startling you whenever he could. You tended to be very uneasy around him after all. He’d sneak up behind you, and with his gravelly baritone, inquire “what is it that you’re doing, staring off into nothing like that?” You’d jump with a shout, whirling around with fire in your eyes and a curse upon your tongue that dripped syrupy sweet into his ears. Smacking his shoulder, you’d stalk away, mumbling to yourself about how childish he was.

It was more than obvious to mostly everyone what he was doing.

“You seem to be paying an unusual amount of attention to someone,” came Robin, that mysterious, all-knowing twinkle in her gaze.

“You’re acting like such a little schoolboy,” Nami scolded.

“You know, you could just use your words,” Usopp would murmur.

But Zoro wasn’t one to care much about what people thought. And you remained oblivious, just how he liked it.

Drinking with you made him truly insufferable. It was one of the few times you could stand to be in his presence for more than ten minutes, given you were just as much of a lush as he was. Unabashedly he’d cling to you, whining about how frosty you were towards him. You’d try to go off on your own in search of a local pub. But he insisted you were “too much of a weakling” and “there’s too many big and scary men out there, you need someone to protect you.”

“That is literally the most insane pile of bullshit I’ve ever heard come out of your mouth,” you spat. “Either you come along or don’t. Regardless, leave me the hell alone.” Without bothering to hear his reply, you began to walk away.

“Actually, you know what,” you spun around, “I’m not gonna babysit your hopelessly, directionally challenged ass. Just wait right here and I’ll go grab some booze from the kitchen.”

You had a real mean streak about you when it came to Zoro. But that’s ok. He liked it that way, too much in fact. Your short fuse made it all too easy. It wasn’t his fault you kept fulfilling his every whim, albeit, begrudgingly. He’d have nothing to work with if that wasn’t the case. As it stands, he was the only one who could push your buttons like that, and boy did that feel good.

You’d barely made it back to the deck, balancing an armful of booze, when he hooked his arm around your neck and guided you to the crow’s nest. Silently, you followed his lead.

As the two of you sat on the rounded bench overlooking the deck, you took one of the bottles of wine and passed him his own bottle of sake. Drinking in silence, he watched you out of the corner of his eye, following the golden shafts of sunset caressing your skin. Once twilight and stars speckled the sky, you both were well, and truly buzzed; him red-cheeked and buoyant, and you relaxed and giggly. It was his favorite look on you.

Somehow, his head found it’s way onto your shoulder, and your fingers carded through his mint-colored hair. Both of you took a swig from your respective bottles and settled deeper into the cushions of the bench.

“Why do you keep testing my patience like that’” you inquired.

“What do you mean,” he sighed, turning his face into the crook of your neck. You were always so warm, and you smelled so, so sweet.

“You know what I mean.” Your fingers continued crawling along his scalp, grip tightening slightly.

“Ah. Well. It’s fun I guess. Gives me something to do.”

You hummed, turning your face slightly towards his. With one hand you tapped his forehead to get his attention, and he looked up at you, unfairly long lashes fluttering over his eyes. Squeezing his cheeks with your other hand, you bumped your nose against his.

“Stop fucking with me, or I might start to think you like me,”

“And what if I do?”

Your body recoils, but his arm wraps tightly around your waist before you can shuffle your way out of his reach.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Come on, I know you’re not that dumb.”

Your grip on his jaw grows tighter.

“I swear to God, if you’re actually fucking with me…”

“Ooh, I like it when you threaten me like that. But really, you know I’m serious.”

With a resigned scoff you unthinkingly crush your lips to his, a soft moan of relief bleeding into his mouth. His hand at your waist squeezes possessively, and he pulls you so that you straddle his lap. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you allow the alcohol in your system to guide your tongue past his lips. His hands make a journey to your ass, squeezing and pulling you against him. You release his mouth with a sigh; he bites into your neck, tongue darting out to soothe the pain. You’re a squirmy little thing, grinding your hips along his pelvis and thighs. His other hand makes it’s way to the back of your neck and he presses his lips against your ear.

“I knew you wanted this.”

“Shut up. Shut the fuck up.”

A dark chuckle escapes his lips and he tightens his hold around your waist, flipping you onto your back.

“Well now that I know you want me. Where do we go from here?”

Your hands grip his robe, pulling him closer as your chest heaves. Thick, calloused fingers crawl up your shirt and grope your chest. Widening your legs to allow him to settle between them, you mirror his trademark smirk

“You can start by removing my pants and putting that smart mouth of yours where it belongs.”

#roronoa zoro x reader #zoro x reader #myfic #idk if that’s even my original tag but fuck it we ball #I got too much shit brainstorming in my head so this gotta come out #roronoa zoro

[emithecharmer]

Cuddles for the Cutie

Tw: Swearing, fluff, hurt/comfort? I don't know if it qualifies as that?? Changbin is a baby and he wants cuddles, he's a bit stressed.

~

Contrary to what all of your friends believed, Seo Changbin was the biggest baby ever. Sure, yes, he was the 'dominant' one in the relationship, but only when he wanted to be. There were so many instances that you could recall where he just wanted you to baby him. And right now was one of those times.

Your boyfriend has been so caught up in the new album promotions and he just needed some damn cuddles! He'd called you around an hour ago, just wanting to talk, but you could hear the sleep that was laced deeply in his voice. So like any good girlfriend, you decided to make him, and the other hardworking boys, some dinner. You'd carefully cooked and constructed your food, a recipe that your mom use to make for you, and packed it up. Starting the short drive over there and wondering if your boyfriend was really alright, he seemed so tired on the phone.

You arrived just in time to see they'd all just showered and were about to order some food when you knocked on the door.

"Y/nie!" Hyunjin exclaimed as he opened the door.

"Hey, I brought food." You said as he invited you in and all the boys groaned out of hunger.

You saw Changbin smile and you as you distributed the food and eyes crinkling when you got to him.

"Hi Binnie." You said as the other boys left to eat in their rooms.

"I love you." You softly chuckled at that and he smiled again.

"I love you too, let's eat in your room hm?" He nodded and took you hand in his own as you two made your way to his room.

It was silent while you both ate, he'd turned on 'The Nightmare Before Christmas' to get in the Christmas mood. It was peaceful, every once in a while Changbin would chuckle or laugh at something happening and you'd literally beam at him. He deserved so much, they all did, and you knew how hard they all worked. You only hoped that they'd get some well deserved rest.

He'd tried to snuggle in to you after he finished eating, but you'd rather clean up quickly and then cuddle. No one liked to clean crusty bowls after all.

"Here, I'll take these to the kitchen." You offered, taking the bowl he'd given to you with a slight pout and a thank you.

Walking into the kitchen you saw Felix doing the same.

"Y/n! Thank you so much, we all appreciate it." He said with a smile.

"Of course, make sure to rest okay? If you need anything, feel free to call." He nodded and went into Hyunjin's room, probably to watch a movie with him and Jisung.

When you got back into your boyfriend's room and saw him curled up on his bed pouting, you almost had a heart attack.

"Awh, what's wrong?" You whined and he giggled.

"Nothing!" He sang as he opened his arms and wrapping the around you as you crawled into his bed.

"Mm, warm.." He groaned and you chuckled.

"Sleepy?" You whispered and he nodded in reply.

"Here, sit up for a second." He did so begrudgingly.

You shifted so you were propped up against some pillows and he could lay between your legs, using you as a pillow. He lay down in the new position and audibly sighed.

"Comfy?" He nodded again and whined as you brushed through his messy hair.

"You're doing so good, you know that? You're so talented Binnie, I'm proud of you for working so hard. Now it's time to rest okay?" He wrapped his hand in your free one and brought it to his lips, laying a soft kiss on your knuckles.

You softly let go and ran you fingers along his back, tracing the defined muscles through his shirt. Every once in a while you'd feel a certain spot become tense and smile softly, but after a while, he'd fallen asleep.

You kept softly running your fingers through his hair and down his spine, only pausing when Jeongin had come in to thank you and give you some candies he'd bought for you in the states.

#skz #skz imagines #skz bang chan #skz minho #skz changbin #skz felix #skz hyunjin #skz i.n #skz fluff #skz seungmin #skz han #stray kids #skz scenarios #skz reactions #kpop #don't be a silent reader #fluff #bang chan #comment #bangchan #seo changbin #seo changbin fluff #changbin fluff #seo changbin x you #seo changbin x reader #changbin x you #changbin x reader

[hybbart]

May I request you draw some empires s1 flower husbands I Miss them so much( ps your jimmy design is adorable)

First of all thank you very much! Now, I have actually drawn a little sketch for you. But I'm gonna put it in another post cause I just wanted to use this ask to say a couple things so it doesn’t get bogged down by this, cause this happens to touch close to some topics I wanted to mention for a while now but my brain has a hard time letting me just make permanent text posts on this blog specifically since it's supposed to be for my art.

Long post so I'm putting it below the read more. Sorry if this seems like an inappropriate reply, I really just don’t know how or where else to say these things.

TL;DR: I've given myself strict rules on what I'll personally depict in my mcyt art, I'm not actually fond of flower husbands or Jimmy and Scott's dynamic in general (adore both of them individually though), and I still don't really know much about e1 outside of Lizzie so have 3rd life instead.

First thing is something I probably shoulda said a long time ago cause I've gotten a few asks about drawing explicitly romantic or sexual stuff, but I don't intend to draw either of those things. I have a big difference between what I'm comfortable consuming and what I'm comfortable making myself. I gave myself a lot of personal boundaries when decided to draw mcyt stuff based on my own comfort.

Rule 1 is no sexualization or gore, basically keep things in the realm of the same rating as the hermits.

Rule 2 is that my designs would only be based on skins, lore, and fanon, and never anything around their irl selves.

Rule 3 is not to draw anything that was more than interpretive in relation to romantic vs platonic.

Rule 0.5, the only exceptions to be made would be for references to gags they themselves have made in videos.

I know some of my stuff pushes against the line on these rules, especially for jokes or replying to asks that use shipping terms, but they're ones I don't intend to ever fully cross with my own art. There's a lot of other amazing artists on here who are more comfortable with drawing that stuff.

So if you ever send in a request for art just know that ones that push against or cross these rules to me, I'm going to skip over them. Not anything against the request it's just my own rules. Sometimes I also just don't get to them, but I'd appreciate those rules being kept in mind when requesting.

Second topic starts with a bit of a story. So, I got introduced to the life series through a Grian animation that popped up when I was in my more standard annual hermitcraft phase. The first thing I watched of the life series was thus Grian's videos of 3rd life and double life very out of order and jumping all over the place.

Cause of that the very first thing I ever saw in relation to flower husbands was after Jimmy was already dead, and it was Scott talking about how his husband is dead after the desert war, telling Grian "see this is why I don't trust Jimmy with anything, because he's incompetent. I did warn you all." and it never really recovered from that first impression for me. It actually took me a long time to figure out it was more than a one off joke to call him his husband, cause it felt like every time I saw a scene with Scott he was just insulting Jimmy or begrudgingly putting up with him in a not very funny way. I really do not vibe with them as the flower husbands cause of that.

(That said I do adore both of them separately, and they are very entertaining as exes. Scott's just a lot more enjoyable as part of GGG and the divorcees, and I am very susceptible to the 'Jimmy bullying joke didn't quite land and I'm now just uncomfortable' low tolerance problem.)

Third is, I have actually watched an empires 1 pov now! Yay! But it was Lizzie's and there honestly isn't all that much related to them in her pov. There was actually not nearly as much related to others as I expected in general. Still loved it but didn't provide much is far as context for the season as a whole. Plus I'm unhappy with Scott's design for it and wanna redesign it. So basically I drew them from 3rd life instead.

#ask #notes

[tsukuyomii45]

My first ask was an ObiRin one, so here goes an ObiKonan one! What would Nagato think of Konan and Obito's relationship, before and after he discovers the truth about Obito (assuming he eventually does)?

Bring on the ObiKonan asks! Let's go!

--

Nagato was always feeling suspicious about Konan given that he caught her several times roaming around late at night inside the tower where the Akatsuki accommodated in.

He never approached her directly, but kept a watchful eye. He'd find her slipping out of certain corridors and from tight spaces between walls. (Places where she and Obito have their "stolen moments" together.) There was one time he passed by her room, hearing soft sounds, and when he attempted to walk in out of concern, he didn't find her in there (Obito immediately teleported the two of them in his dimension and they finished fuxking in there).

When he asked Konan about her suspicious behavior and activities, Konan begrudgingly gaslights him.

And then there was this unusual thing Obito does where he would make Nagato pair him up with Konan when they needed to carry out missions, and he wouldn't even allow Nagato to question why.

First of all, Nagato does NOT like Obito/Tobi/"Madara". He always felt off about him, but he only followed for a certain cause. Nagato is overprotective over Konan so there are moments where he would let his irritation seep through when he questions Obito about why he wants to pair up with Konan, uncaring of who is the real authority between them.

Obito, being a fucking cunt, would then sinisterly wonder why Nagato cares so much, and asks if he is in love with Konan. Then out of an internal jealousy, Obito would stoop low enough to bring up Yahiko and say, "Stop acting like you can protect her when you couldn't even protect your own friend."

This enrages Nagato, satisfying Obito a good amount even though he knows Konan will hate him for it, but they always end up having hate sex to release that tension anyway.

Now, when Nagato finds out about their relationship and that they have been sleeping together all this time, Nagato would be pushed to the point where he would attempt to summon the Gedou Statue and challenges Obito to a battle because he thinks that the Uchiha is merely taking advantage of her and is just using them for his own selfish means. Obito is secretly amused at how hard Nagato is taking this (again because Obito is a cunt), but he could feel his own anger rising at the thought of anything standing between Konan and him, and threatens Nagato that he wouldn't hesitate to wipe out anyone that would stop him from pursuing her.

Konan would step in between them and would try to stop Nagato, and tell him that they are not messing around and that this is real between them. Nagato would accuse her of betraying Yahiko's love for her, knowing that the body of Yahiko is speaking to her and Konan would tearfully say that nothing can compare to him, and to not try to guilt her for finding new love by using him.

Nagato asks her 3 times if she is certain about what she is doing, and Konan affirms. Nagato then says that he will never be able to give his full blessings, but if he ever hurts her he will destroy everything they've built all those years and that is a promise.

So, whether it is before or after, Nagato will resent their relationship but will hold on and watch over Konan.

He could see her glowing, he could see the color returning to her complexion. He could see her copper eyes lighting up. He could see her secret smiles, and he could see how relaxed Obito has been more recently because of her and how bad he has it because he could never seem to leave her side. He could see the subtle touches between them, such as Obito placing his hand on her hip, or by her upper back where his thumb brushes the side of her breast, and sometimes standing behind her and whispering in her ear, smirking as a red blush colors Konan's cheeks. He could see Konan giving his hand a gentle squeeze or placing a hand on his arm, or sometimes linking her arm with his, maybe even teasingly lean up to him as they flirted.

But for Yahiko's sake, he can never, ever approve.

#naruto shippuden #obito uchiha #uchiha obito #obikonan #nagato uzumaki #konan #akatsuki #under the influence

[therisingphoenixden]

Prompt #11: Always Watching

Prompt: Free day (Watch)

Characters: Emet-Selch

Content Warnings: ShB and EW spoilers ahoy!

Author’s Notes: Sad Ascian time? Sad Ascian time! Ever wonder why he liked watching, in a non-pervy way?

The most esteemed Emet-Selch of the Convocation of Fourteen and one of the three Unsundered had been entirely honest with the Warrior of Darkness and her merry band of misfits when he told them he liked to watch when they entered the Greatwood. Whether it was from the shadows or physically present, he watched and took his measure of the Scions.

First was the reflection, a small slip of a girl who seemed too nervous to speak more often than not. Almost as if she was afraid to upset her erstwhile guardians. He could easily sense the uncertainty rolling off of her, see the shards of the original Minfilia’s soul that slumbered within. Was it her treatment at the hands of the Eulmoran General that made her so reluctant to speak up or fear of upsetting her self-appointed guardian?

Then there was the aforementioned guardian. Lahabrea’s former vessel was prickly, too tired around the eyes, and constantly on guard. Yet every so often he could see traces of something. Of a half-forgotten past self that the Warrior brought out in him. A young man who was once both carefree but would do anything for those he cared for. Given the vessel’s past trauma with Lahabrea, he would be the least likely to be swayed to join the cause.

Then there was the secret keeper. He knew of this one from Elidibus and his plans to rid the Source of the Warrior. Easily the hardest to read of the group, he knew of the keeper’s betrayal on the Source. It was what led to Elidibus waking him, after all. There would be no manipulating that one. His convictions were far too steadfast. However, the penchant for keeping secrets could be of use.

On the other hand, there was potential in the miqo’te woman. Her gift of aethersight replaced her lost vision, which meant she could truly see what the others were blind to. He had observed her argument with the keeper regarding the Warrior from the shadows regarding the Warrior’s soul. Still, she was stubborn and all too tied to Hydaelyn to risk recruiting to his cause. He was oddly attached to his Solus vessel and didn’t wish to test its resilience to whatever conjury the miqo’te would use against it.

He hadn’t bothered observing the twins much, so set in their idea that he was plotting something. The hot-headed one constantly kept a hand on the hilt of her rapier whenever he was around. The more level-headed twin kept trying to talk sense into him. But it was Hydaelyn’s notion of what was sensible and could therefore rot along with Her.

Then there was the Warrior herself, with a soul the color of a fiery sunrise. It was a color he had been intimately familiar with in a time before time. His dearest Azem, claimed by Hydaelyn as Her champion. Did Venat, or what remained of her within Hydaelyn, know whose soul she had chosen? The Warrior even looked so much like his beloved that it only served to remind him of just how alone he had been for millennia.

She was seated at the tavern overlooking the Crystarium’s markets, situating herself between the keeper and the vessel as they shared a drink with the miqo’te and the viis guard captain of the city. They were regaling the viis with tales of the Source, of the vessel’s reappearance after the miqo’te recklessly teleported them out of danger with Flow.

The scene was achingly familiar to him. It wasn’t a rare occurrence that he would begrudgingly join Azem and Hythlodaeus for drinks as she regaled Venat and Elidibus with tales of her adventures whenever she returned to Aumarot. If he shifted his focus just so, it was almost like reliving those days. Azem, all smiles with an abundance of red curls gesticulating animatedly about her latest adventure. Hythlodaeus and his sheepish grins when it was revealed he had loaned out experimental concepts to help her. Venat’s shoulders shaking with barely-restrained giggles at her protoge’s daring. Elidibus listening in awe of what hadn’t been included in the official report to the Convocation, but determined to keep these little meetings off the record. And him, gazing at both of his loves with an exasperated fondness.

He was jolted back to reality when the miqo’te gave an undignified snort and the vision of better times vanished. Instead, all he saw was a group of sundered, incomplete beings. Beings who would be better served by the Rejoining. And his Azem, leaning on the keeper with a look of blissful contentment on her face.

He suddenly didn’t feel like watching anymore.

#ffxivwrite2022 #ffxivwrite #ffxiv #emet-selch #character analysis

[pr1ncessm00n]

𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐨𝐧 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞 ✦ 𝙥𝙤𝙧𝙘𝙤 𝙜𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙞𝙖𝙧𝙙 𝙭 𝙛𝙚𝙢!𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

⌨ 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ✦ ♫ 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ✦ ⌨ 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: 𝗲𝗻𝗲𝗺𝗶𝗲𝘀 𝘁𝗼 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘀, 𝘀𝗳𝘄

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟭.𝟴𝗞

𝟬𝟭. 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗹𝗼𝘀𝘁?

♪ 𝟭. 𝗯𝗲𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘀𝗼 𝗻𝗼𝗿𝗺𝗮𝗹 - 𝗽𝗲𝗮𝗰𝗵 𝗽𝗶𝘁

𝗬𝗢𝗨 𝗗𝗢𝗡’𝗧 𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗟𝗟𝗬 𝗞𝗡𝗢𝗪 what you did to become the object of disdain for Porco Galliard. Upon your first encounter with him at freshman orientation, he was nothing but an arrogant, rude, pretentious snob - but that was beside the point. Ever since he spoke to you with a tone you couldn’t quite decipher, you became sworn enemies. It wasn’t like you had any reason to despise him as well, but the mere fact that he was rude to you for no reason was enough to label him as such.

In simpler terms, you couldn’t stand each other. Everything about him irritated you, from the way he walked like he owned the place, to the way he held his pencil, and even the type of cologne he used. He was insufferable, and it was as if the Universe conspired to torture you by making sure your friends associated with him more frequently than you’d like. You kept your distance, but he always found a way to be in your little orbit of space where only a few friends and your cat managed to reside. He was inevitably always there, just lingering.

You had already spent a year and a half attempting to understand why he acted the way he did. Did you rub him the wrong way? Did you leave a bad first impression? Were you annoying? But you could never find a reasonable explanation. He had never even given you a chance, his rudeness and general loathing of you clear before you even had an individual conversation with him. The detest he held for you radiated off of him whenever you were in his vicinity. So you came to the logical conclusion that he was just an asshole who couldn’t handle criticism, and that not every girl was at his feet.

That was another thing. The girls at Paradis University practically worshipped him. You couldn’t see what was so great about this mediocre soccer player. The more the girls around you swooned for him, the more you grew disgusted by him. Begrudgingly, you could admit he was easy on the eyes. But his terrible personality and evil demeanor should be enough to cancel that out! And you were sure he emptied half a bottle of gel on his head every day. Yet the Porco Fanclub persisted. Some days you felt like you were the only one with sense around him, who saw him for who he was. And who that was is not a good person. No matter how hard he might try to appear as one.

So when you caught sight of him, wearing his letterman jacket, backpack slung over one shoulder (another annoying habit of his) entering the Student Center, you lowered your head to avoid eye contact, acting engrossed with your Child Development homework. It was odd how even though Porco couldn’t tolerate you, he always made time to leave a snide remark or provoke you with a comment as he passed by you. Determined to not let him get to you, you acted as you normally would: pretending he didn’t exist.

Unfortunately, he seemed to have caught on to that trick.

“Yo, L/N.” He placed a beefy hand on your textbook, blocking your line of sight from the paragraph you were pretending to read. “Where’s Eren at?”

You glared at his hand, refusing to look up. If you did, it would be too late, and an argument would ensue. “As I’ve told you countless times before, Galliard, don’t call me that, and I am not Eren’s guardian. Get your greasy hand off my book.”

Porco scoffed, but removed his hand. “What bit you in the ass today?”

You rolled your eyes. “I was actually having a good day before you showed up. So are you done pestering me now? Are you lost or something? The school therapist is the other way.”

“Yeah, don’t worry. I won’t take up any more of your precious time. I can see you’re so busy, reading about-“ He bent down, bringing his head close to your hand to see the page heading, which just happened to be about egg fertilization. The action caused your breath to hitch in your throat. “Reproduction.” Porco snorted. “I gotta say, I wasn’t sure you were into that kind of stuff.”

You snapped your textbook shut. “It’s for a health class.” You mumbled. “And I doubt you even know much about the subject.”

“I know plenty.” Porco replied defensively. “Whatever, I just need to know where Eren is. So if you feel like actually being helpful for once-"

“I already told you I don’t know.” You snapped.

Just then, Mikasa arrived at your designated study table, holding two iced coffees. “What’s going on?” She asked, her eyes switching from yours to Porco.

“Do you know where Eren is?” Porco asked her, in a much nicer way than he had ever spoken to you.

Mikasa set the coffees down. “Yeah, he’s on his way to the cafeteria. Why?”

“I have to do a project with him. He told me he would be here.” Porco explained.

“Well, he should be on his way. You’re welcome to wait with us.”

Y/N shot Mikasa a glare. Since when was Porco welcome?

Noticing your look, Porco side eyed you as he declined Mikasa’s invitation. “I think I’ll have to pass. You said cafeteria?”

Mikasa nodded, and you squinted. “Did she not just say the cafeteria?” You blurted.

Porco stared at you. You stared back, not wanting to back down and appear intimidated by his gaze. His jaw clenched, and your grip on your pen tightened.

After a short, unspoken battle of gazes, Porco retreated, opting to ignore you instead. “Great, so I’ll go see if I can find him.” He said to Mikasa. “Thanks.” He turned and left the student center.

Sitting beside you, Mikasa whistled. “What was that about?”

“What? Porco being an ass? That should be normal by now.” You sneered, resuming your homework.

Mikasa shook her head. “No. Why was he talking to you like that?”

“Like what?” Your brow furrowed. You didn’t understand what she was trying to say. “Like he usually does? As if I’m a pest?”

“Like…” Mikasa pondered for a bit, trying to find the right words to express what she saw. “Like he knew you.”

You looked at her, perplexed. “I mean, doesn’t he know me? He hates me. He knows he hates me.”

Mikasa shrugged. “I don’t know. It was just an observation.”

You sighed, still not understanding her point. Changing the subject, you picked up an iced coffee. “Thanks for the coffee.”

Mikasa hummed in response. The dark haired girl pulled out a textbook, setting it down infront of her.

“Do you think we’ll actually get any work done this time?” She asked after a few minutes of silence. You blinked. She had noticed you were still on the same page of your worksheets since Porco left.

“Honestly… No.”

“Didn’t think so.”

“I’m going to work.” You called to Mikasa. “I’ll be back at ten.”

“See you! Be safe!” Mikasa called back.

She didn’t like you taking the bus so late, but as you were car-less, you didn’t have much choice. She offered to drive you or walk you, but you didn’t like to burden her too much with the chore of driving you places. Plus, she had a lot of homework to do.

Plugging your headphones in, you adjusted your beanie your friend Historia had made you and began the fifteen minute walk to Garrison’s, the local craft store you were employed at part time.

Mikasa Ackerman was your best friend, and coincidentally your roommate. She was good at being both; clean, neat, respectful and she made some quality meals. As a friend, she was honest, generous and had a sort of dry humor that never failed to crack you up.

You were sort of the opposite. You weren’t exactly winning any awards for cleanliest living space, and your cooking skills often fell short, but you were open to accepting your faults. Add to the list that you had no reliable way of transportation. You were extremely grateful to have been blessed with a roommate like Mikasa. Luckily, much of Paradis, and Trost, where you resided, was a pedestrian friendly city. Almost everything you did was within walking distance. (Although you and your friends often argued what ‘walking distance’ fell under; for you, a 30 minute walk was no biggie- for them, it was unspeakable.) You were used to not having a car, and as a consequence you were always on time to events.

Mikasa had introduced you to her ever present best friend, Eren Yeager. The green eyed boy was like her brother, and you had grown used to seeing him slouching on your shared couch whenever you returned from classes. He was cute, but completely off limits, as Mikasa was extremely overprotective of him. They had been raised together, which is something you could tell after just a few times meeting them. They often did things in sync, and unwittingly committed some of the same mannerisms.

Armin Arlert had also become your shared friend, as he was the self proclaimed “third wheel.” Once you came along and joined the friend group, he jokingly said you made them a “quadricycle.” After Eren asked “What the hell is a quadricycle?” The joke was retired.

You had met a lot of people your freshmen and now sophomore year at Paradis University, some becoming closer than others. For example, you were friendly with Pieck Finger and Bertholdt Hoover, but due to their relationship with Porco, you didn’t get any closer than that. You were close with Historia Reiss, and her girlfriend Ymir Fritz. But your best friend would always be Mikasa, and you were hers (second to Eren, of course.) You had also become familiar with Jean Kirstein ( star soccer player) and his two fools of friends Sasha Braus and Connie Springer. You hadn’t hung out too many times, but they were always the life of the party.

Overall, you would say you were well-acquainted and accustomed to life at Paradis. But for some reason, you could not explain why Porco Galliard wouldn’t like you. You were sure you were kind to him the first time you met, and you couldn’t pinpoint an exact moment where you wronged him. So if you were able to form so many friendships, how was he the only one you couldn’t befriend? It was insane. You weren’t exactly begging for his approval… but his dislike for you was offensive. You didn’t like to argue, yet it was inevitable whenever you two tried to have a normal conversation. No matter how hard you tried to figure him out, he always found a way to puzzle you.

You shook your head. Why was he on your mind, of all things? You had a job to do, and your silly psychological analysis of the idiot made you slow your pace. You quickened your steps. Porco could insult you, and make passive aggressive gestures, but he would not be responsible for your tardiness.

a/n: woo, first chapter down! i hope you all had a very happy new year's and or winter break. i return to college jan. 18th, so that means more time to write, yay! thank you all for the support on my previous work, for sale or wanted, and i hope you enjoy this new series! i feel like my writing has already improved so much.

taglist: open. use form or comment/ask to be added! | @uwu-so-3dgy @thanks-for-the-emsomnia @xawkwardxderpx

𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: @usernamehere91 @whosveenus @idkkirstein @anonymossii

note: if your name is striked out that means i was unable to tag you. if you would like for me to message you directly when a new chapter is uploaded, message me, send an ask, use the form or comment!

recommended tags: if i tagged you in this section, it's because i thought you'd want to read my new series based on your interest in my previous one! if you wish to be removed, please message me privately! or use this form

#aot headcanons #aot imagines #attack on titan x reader #shingeki no kyojin #aot #porco snk #attack on titan porco #aot porco #porco galliard #porco galliard x reader #porco x reader #reiner braun x reader #reiner braun #jean kirstein #eren yeager #porco galliard smau #porco galliard enemies to lovers #porco galliard fanfiction #porco galliard angst #porco galliard x you #porco galliard fluff #aot smau #aot fanfiction #attack on titan scenarios #attack on titan smau

[julek]

inspired by this post by @penandinkprincess || post season 2 yennskier || read on ao3

It’d been raining all morning.

Jaskier had begrudgingly awakened at the pit-patter of raindrops against the brittle glass of his room, had narrowed his sleep-heavy eyes at the slivers of grey light coming through the holes in the curtains. He’d wrapped his blanket around himself and got up to close the blinds, plunge the room into darkness once more — but then there were sounds coming from the kitchen, and chatter in the halls, and even though his bed was warm and enticing, guilt started wrapping itself around his heart.

So he’d gotten up.

He’d dressed himself in his warmest clothes — the few to his name, after everything — and headed down to the main hall for breakfast. He’d found dirty plates and used cups but no trace of their owners, as it appeared everyone had already cleared out in favor or tending to their tasks. (He hadn’t been given any — had timidly asked Vesemir what he could help with, only to get a frown and no reply, and he doubted the remaining Witchers remembered he was there at all).

So he’d been left to his own devices, after a bowl of porridge and a glass of goat milk, snowed peaks making for distant company. After wandering around aimlessly, half afraid of getting lost — no one had been kind enough to show him around yet — and half afraid of getting scolded for putting his nose where it didn’t belong, he found himself in front of Yennefer’s door.

The room she’d picked was three doors down from his. Her magic was still paper-thin, still fickle and unpredictable, but she’d managed to transform the room into something a bit more cozy, homey. Her fire was always stoked and her walls didn’t have any holes in them, her bedspread brand new, goose feathers heavenly to the touch.

Yen was decidedly not a morning person, he’d learned. Now that her guard was down — as low as it could go — being among people she trusted, it seemed like the ever-present need to be alert at all times receded a bit. Jaskier would see her at noon, impeccably dressed and not a single hair out of place, but never earlier than that. Not that he was a morning person by any means — especially not now, not when waking up made dread sit heavy on his chest, made his heart ache with longing for the present he’d lost, for the future that would never be.

Her scent had faded, over time. Lilac and gooseberries, Geralt had mentioned a handful of times, the scent of her magic and her soul intertwined. It wasn’t entirely gone, now; it had evolved into something else. Something softer. Less all-consuming.

That new scent of warmth and tender feathers of hope greeted Jaskier at her door.

She was sleeping.

It never ceased to amaze him, the way she slept. In a way, it was obvious — she slept the way she did everything else: with passion, fire, drive. With a clear objective in mind and a delimited pathway to get to it. With calculated loss and gain, with stone-cold decision.

But also, looking at her sleeping form: messy, unpredictable. Unique. Her bed was a nest of furs placed there without reason or rhyme, pillows strewn across the floor and her mattress as she laid in the middle of it, arms and legs stretched out as if trying to prove she did need a queen-sized bed, for all her long limbs and whatnot, thank you very much.

As he walked closer, he could see her face peeking out from under the covers. Calling her hair a rat’s nest would be doing rats a disservice; it was tousled beyond recognition. Jaskier smiled at the drool drying on her chin and the way there were at least half a dozen furs resting on top of her, but her feet were firmly stretched out from under them.

It surprised him still, how much love he had for her.

Noon was still hours away. The rain kept falling over the valley, pit-pattering against Yennefer’s slightly sturdier window, her maroon-colored curtain painting the grey light pink, bathing the room in a soft glow.

It wasn’t magic, he knew.

“Yen,” he said.

“Urgh,” came from under the covers.

He smiled. “D’ya wanna wake up? Have breakfast?”

A pillow hit him in the face.

(It was magic).

“I agree,” he said, because he did, because without words Yennefer had said It’s too cold, it will rain until evening, there’s no use.

Because he understood.

“I’ll leave you to it, then,” he said softly, softer than he’d meant to.

A blanket-covered hand lifted the furs.

Come here, she meant.

Jaskier hesitated. He didn’t want to impose, didn’t want to bother. He didn’t want to intrude in the only moment of solitude and peace she would probably get. Not after everything.

Not for nothing.

The blanket-covered hand shook the furs twice.

Don’t make me come over there, she meant.

Jaskier smiled. “Okay.”

He set his boots beneath her bed and took off his breeches, folding them over a nearby chair. His long underclothes would do just fine.

Slowly, gently, he climbed into the bed, stepping into the space she’d carved out for him. Under the covers, the cold air of the keep was replaced by an embracing warmth, the sheets no longer stiff and half-frozen, but buttery soft and well-loved instead. Yen’s hand dropped back into the bed, and the furs fell over them both, encasing them in a universe where no snow could ever reach them.

Her eyes were closed, her breathing steady. There was a decent amount of empty space between them, which Jaskier decided would be prudent to keep.

Yen seemed to disagree.

In a swift movement unattributable to a woman who seemed dead to the world, she wrapped herself around him like a growing vine. Her arms gently placed him close to her chest, the grounding pressure holding him there, his head tucked beneath her chin, her too-human heartbeat under his warm cheek.

(Her feet still peeked out of the furs). (She took thermal regulation very seriously).

And Jaskier curled up against her, his hands resting on her stomach, his legs bent at the knees, seeking the warmth that came not from the covers, but from within her core.

A glaciar, he’d said once. The woman that bleeds ice.

How wrong he’d been.

Let’s sleep in today, he heard in his mind, Yennefer’s voice a honey-sweet echo.

He pressed a kiss to her hand.

Okay.

#mywriting #yennskier #yennefer x jaskier #they’re impossibly soft and it’s what they deserve #geralt is mentioned once (once) in here because he doesn’t deserve to have them ruminate about him #dump 👏🏼 his 👏🏼 ass 👏🏼 #twn spoilers

[wheelsup]

the taming of the shrew | two

if i be waspish, best beware my sting

after some setbacks, penelope is willing to do anything to get you back on board. but has spencer already ruined things?

A/N: hello! im so sorry that this posting schedule is super inconsistent. the more i thought about this chapter, the less i liked the more technical aspects of it. but! i hope you enjoy to plot aspect of it nonetheless <3 thanks for reading!

category: fluff, slow burn series, spencer reid x fem!reader

wc: 4.4k

<- prev | next ->

Since that phone call with Penelope, she’d been over nearly every night for a week with plates of treats and onslaughts of apologies. Each time she came knocking, you told her there was no amount of persuasion that could change your mind. And yet the following night, she’d be there, a new type of pastry in hand and a new set of reasons why Spencer was worth the trouble.

First, she brought blueberry muffins and reasoned that deep below that prickly exterior, he really was everything she promised –– sweet and caring. But that must be deep, deep down. Like, The Lost City of Atlantis, deep down, because you didn’t expect it to surface any time soon. 

Then, she brought fudge brownies and explained that his behavior wasn’t personal –– he was getting snippy with everyone lately. And while you maintained that anybody would have a hard time getting along with Spencer, you were absolutely positive that it was now impossible for you. 

Quite frankly, it wasn’t just Spencer who was unwilling to play nice. You hated him. More than you’ve ever hated a stranger. 

You wished him a lifetime riddled with minor inconveniences that would drive him to the edge of insanity. You wanted him to miss all his trains by just a quarter of a minute; close enough so that he could see it leave the platform, knowing he almost made it on. You wanted him to constantly feel like he was about to sneeze. You wanted his socks to be perpetually wet, and if he should happen to put on a dry pair? You hoped he stepped in a puddle.

That was all you could think about as you laid out on your couch, munching on one of Penelope’s lemon bars while she paced around your apartment. She kept going on and on advertising Spencer to you. As annoying as it was, she was also saving you a ton on groceries that week. 

For the most part, you filtered her out. Not a single word that came out of her mouth was believable anymore, especially not when she was talking about Spencer. Despite what Penelope thought of him, you saw in him what she refused to accept. 

As her speech came to a close, she looked at you like she expected a response to dignify her prattling. 

“Give it a rest, Penelope. He’s a lost cause,” you laughed dryly. “He doesn’t need –– nor does he want –– anyone in his life.” At the very least, he definitely didn’t want you. 

“Yes, that’s the problem!” If you’d been listening to her, you would’ve heard her saying the same thing. “He doesn’t want to date!” 

Your head just about exploded when she said that. 

There had been countless, fruitless conversations about this, and all along she saw the gaping hole in her supposedly airtight plan?

“If he doesn’t want to DATE, then WHAT was the point of this?!” Your fingers pressed the bridge of your nose; you suddenly felt a headache coming on. Funny how it always happened around the time of day that Penelope came to visit.

Penelope stopped pacing. She stalked over to your couch, picked your legs up by your ankle, and moved them to make space for herself. You begrudgingly sat upright as she took her place beside you. 

“Because he’s not himself anymore. He’s not open like he used to be. Not to the people who care about him the most, and certainly not to the world.”  

Penelope toyed with the hem of her dress, distracting herself from her quivering lip before pressing on, “Spencer Reid has always wanted love. And it’s not right that he no longer believes he can have it.” 

You hadn’t seen Penelope look so desperate until now. It was concerning. Because what could make her look so hopeless? What could make Spencer so hopeless? 

“Penelope, I don’t know what’s wrong with your little friend, but… there’s a lot more bubbling inside him than you’re letting on.” 

She chewed up the insides of her cheeks, wincing to herself at your incredibly accurate claim. 

“You are hiding something, aren’t you?” You narrowed your eyes on her. You were no detective, or whatever exactly her team did, but she was just awful at concealing her thoughts.

“It’s not my story to tell,” she murmured. 

She could already feel herself about to give it away and doubled down her mental defenses against it. Focusing extra hard on keeping Spencer’s privacy intact. If only you knew her track record with secrets, you’d be proud of her for staying quiet this long.

“What isn’t your story?” 

“That his girlfriend died last year.” 

She spilled it before she even realized what she was saying. You’d just asked so nonchalantly that she forgot she was talking aloud. Penelope turned purple, terrified now that the whole truth was out there. 

You couldn’t even take satisfaction in the fact that your trick worked. You were just as mortified as Penelope, and if you weren’t already sitting down, you knew you’d need to. You assumed there was something deeper going on with him, you didn’t think it was a dead girlfriend. That was some Nicholas Sparks shit. 

“He pretends like he’s fine but I know he’s not. And if he found a way to move on, maybe he’d start feeling as okay as he claims to be,” she sniffled before snot could run from her nose, tears lining the rims of her eyes. “I know I should’ve given you the full picture, but I didn’t think you’d go for it if you knew…” 

You were too floored to process it all right away. This added a whole new layer of complicated to an already uneasy arrangement.

“Well, I know you’re right about one thing. I would’ve said no.” 

She gave you a set of pleading eyes, praying you’d see where she was coming from. 

“I know,” she whispered defeatedly. “But maybe... now that you know, you can understand why he acts out the way he does.”

“Penelope, I can’t just… make someone move on, or –– or get them to believe in love! Especially when it’s fake.”

How on Earth did she expect you to pull that off? Did that guy from A Walk to Remember move on when Mandy Moore died? You hadn’t seen the ending of the movie, but you assumed not. 

“I’m sorry, this is just… a lot bigger than the favor I thought it was ––”

“What if I could return it?” she cut in. The gears in her head started to turn, figuring ways to patch up the holes she made. 

“There’s nothing I need from you.” 

That couldn’t be true. Penelope looked around the room and it didn’t take her long to think of it.

“I can help you sell your art,” she tempted, gesturing to the scattered canvases. “You make all your income from this, right?” 

You didn’t want to give any fuel to her fire, but you nodded. “What if… what if you didn’t have to settle for local buyers? What if I told you that you could make way more money selling them to the whole world?”

You chortled at her idea. 

You were a local artist, through and through. Your art got put in local galleries and sold to local buyers. Nothing more, and that was fine with you. You realized it a long time ago that it was just a pipe dream to think you’d be more. 

“I’m serious! You could get a separate painting studio, and stop living in one? Huh?” She wrapped her hand around your shoulder, waving the other in the air, urging you to picture it with her. “Imagine this: a kitchen that’s separate from your living room. A bed, inside it’s own four walls, and more than twelve feet from where you cook your meals.”

Pushing aside her so blatantly insulting your apartment, if that were a possibility, you’d want nothing more. But it already sounded foolish and you hadn’t even heard how she planned to pull it off. 

“Penelope, I’m fine where I am. I make the money I need, and that’s... it’s fine.”

She gave you a pointed look. “You know, I can hack all search engine results to make sure you are what comes up first anytime someone enters the word ‘painting’, right?

An airy chuckle left your lips. Of course she could. You patted her thigh twice and stood up, prompting her to follow you to your door –– hopefully, so she can show herself to the other side of it. “Still no, Pen.” 

“Just take some time to think about it!” Her voice carried through the wood as you shut it on her.

*

There was this one bench in Kenilworth Park – the one that overlooks the crystal clear pond – that you’d always been able to rely on to fix any problem.

There was hidden magic in the bushes that sprawled out from the edges of the water, surrounded by spiky green blades of overgrown grass. A simplicity you loved in baby ducklings paddling into the tiny body of water, swimming close together so they don’t get lost in, what seems to them, a whole ocean. And clarity provided by the freshest air in the world, under the shade of the big oak trees on a late summer afternoon.

But at the present, none of that came close to being enough.

The artist’s block started off as a minor inconvenience, but without your permission, had stretched into weeks of steadily declining motivation. Each new idea felt even worse than the last, and you were acutely aware that there would come a point where you’d officially hit maximum capacity for how awful they could get.

Still, that didn’t seem to light a fire under you. You happily coexisted with the blank pages of your sketchbook. Staring down at them, laying open on your lap in their stark-white glory, you felt like you were playing a waiting game. If you stared long and hard enough, maybe they’d flinch. 

Unfortunately, you never got to find out who won, because your phone rang inside your pocket. As if the caller had interrupted an incredible genius at work (which couldn’t be farther from the truth), you hastily raised the phone to your ear, slamming your sketchbook shut.

“Hello?” Your voice wasn’t as kind as it could be for someone with nothing better to be doing. Two seconds later, you learned who was calling and came to regret it.

“Hi, This is Rebecca from District Arts, calling with a message from Andre ––”

“Oh, hi!” you tried to walk back your previous tone, straightening up in your seat and pitching your voice higher, “Yeah, I’ve been waiting to hear from him!” 

While Rebecca intimidated you, Andre happened to be your closest friend at the gallery. He worked closely with the artists to curate their collection and help them make sales. 

“Does he want to sort out what to set the opening bid prices at for my new pieces?” A handful of days ago, you sent him pictures of your new work and were waiting to hear his thoughts. You’d always been able to trust his opinion, and a vote of confidence from him might be just the thing to inspire you.

“Uhm…” There was a criminally long pause on the other side of the line, ended by Rebecca’s weary inhale. “Unfortunately, we’re calling to inform you that your pieces will not be included in the next rotation.”

For a minute, you weren’t sure what to make of what she said. You’d never heard those words before.

“What – what do you mean?” you laughed nervously. She probably misspoke. Perks of friendship aside, Andre always included you in sets. 

“Ugh, let me just get him…” her voice faded away as she put the phone down. 

That wasn’t exactly the reassuring statement you were looking for. In the time it took for the call to switch hands, your confusion finally melted in. And then quickly boiled into anger.

The District Arts gallery changed their entire collection every two months. The pieces shown accepted rolling bids throughout the full eight weeks, finally selling at the end of term to their highest offer. After that, the pieces got taken down, sent to happy new owners, and the entire gallery reset with entirely new works. 

So if you missed one rotation, that meant waiting two months to get back in.

“Andre, how am I just cut from the gallery!” you barked before he could get a word in. If he didn’t like your work, he could’ve just said so. 

“No one said that ––”

“Okay, let me rephrase.” You pinched the bridge of your nose, something you found yourself doing quite frequently lately, and took a deep breath in and out. It was seemingly just for show because it did absolutely nothing to calm you down. “Why wouldn’t you put me in the next set? I’m in all of them!”

“I know you are!” He sounded just as upset. “It’s just that… we give you the biggest space we have, because you always manage to fill it up. But this time… I’m not so sure you can.”

“That’s ridiculous,” you scoffed. “What makes you say that?” You asked that, but you knew.

“You’ve only finished three pieces… I’m worried how you’ll deliver seven more before we set up.”

“But… it’s four weeks away, I could do ––”

“And it took you four weeks to make what you have... I’m sorry. We couldn’t take that gamble.” 

He took your silence as an opportunity to turn off the work talk and speak, just friend to friend. 

“You know that I trust you and I’d hold that spot if I could. But, I also know what you’re going through right now, and… I don’t know, maybe letting yourself rest would be a good thing?” 

Your heart paused. By, “knowing what you’re going through”, you assumed he didn’t mean the little artist’s block.

“If you’re implying that I can’t do my job because of what happened with Cyrus –”

“I’m not, I’m not....” he backtracked as quickly as he could. “But take another look at the paintings you showed me and tell me if they feel like you.”

Even if he was right, you wanted to fight him. You wanted to cry. You wanted to beg that you didn’t need that big space; you were willing to downsize and just turn in the three that you had. Even if they got shoved into the corner where hardly anybody bothered to look. You just couldn’t afford to go two months without the income. 

But even with tears beading up, you realized that the gallery couldn’t afford it either. They needed to bring in money and you couldn’t do that for them this time. So they were right to go to someone who can.

“Right,” you sniffled, recollecting yourself so he can’t hear the shakiness in your voice. “I understand. It’s a big risk, like you said… It’s for the better.”

Andre tried to thank you for being understanding and spewed some sort of encouragement. The words flew over your head. You managed to toss in a few ‘mhmm’s and ‘sure’s at the right places to coast you along until the call finally ended. 

As soon as it went dead, you dropped your phone to the side and brought your hands to your face, rubbing them furiously over your cheeks. Your fingertips pressed hard into your eyelids, trying to forcibly reabsorb the tears threatening to spill. 

It almost worked, until you tried to breathe. 

A full sob escaped in that one gulp of air and you succumbed to it. But the loud crunching noise of some pedestrian walking over the falling leaves destroyed your sense of privacy, and you quickly wiped away all signs of your breakdown. The crunching stopped just short of your bench and on instinct you flicked your eyes up to see who the intruder was.

You did a double take. It was him. That fucking asshole.

He was standing there, looking dumber than you could even remember, with his hands in his coat pockets and a curious look on his face as he watched you cry. Tucking your sketchbook under your arm in haste, you made it a point to stand up with as much aggression as possible, rolling your eyes at him.

“Don’t worry, I’m leaving,” you barked. “No need to yell at me this time.”

You bristled past him, barely refraining yourself from checking his shoulder as payback. You wanted to believe you were better than him, but it did sound incredibly tempting. He stood there for a moment before turning on his heel and following you.

“Wait,” he groaned.

You didn’t listen, neither stopping nor slowing down.

“I said wait,” he huffed as he caught up to you, popping up at your side and jogging along as you kept going.

“Yeah, because I need to listen to a guy who yells at strangers in bookstores.” 

Now that you’d brought up the elephant in the room, your feet started moving even faster, working double time to get you away from him.

Damn the fact that he had those long legs. He didn’t even break a sweat trying to keep up. He was inescapable.

“Well, if you waited like I asked, you would’ve gotten an apology for the ––”

“Gee, thanks!” you yelled, stopping for only a second to turn to him and give him a mocking bow of your head, hands clasped together like you were praising at his altar. “I was waiting with bated breath for that! Thank you, kind sir, for now my life can go on.”

“Look, I’m actually sorry,” he snapped. Then in realizing the irony, softened his voice, “I’m sorry for being rude. I was having a bad day… not that that’s an excuse.”

You stared at him blankly, just watching his mouth moving quickly and waiting until it finally stopped. 

“Did you need something?” 

“Did you… did you not hear what I just said?!” 

“No, sorry,” you smiled, voice sweet like sugar. “My ears filter bullshit. Wanna try again?”

He scoffed, looking away like he couldn’t believe you before stepping even closer. “What’s your problem?”

“Me!? The fuck –– what the fuck is your problem?” You turned and stormed off again, seething at his audacity. Spencer just couldn’t relent his annoying tendencies and followed yet again.

“My problem is that I’m trying to be nice, and you’re not letting me!”

You got a good, hard laugh out of that. “Okay, first of all, having to apologize for yelling at me and pushing me isn’t exactly the best starting point for the journey of becoming a nice person.”

“Like I said, I was having a bad day.” 

Under your breath, you muttered, “Well, I hope this one’s even worse.”

“Why are you such a ––” He stopped himself from finishing that thought. Even in his worst mood, he wouldn’t cross that line. 

But he didn’t need to finish it, you knew exactly where he wanted to take it. The soles of your shoes scraped against the loose gravel as you came to a grinding halt, ears ringing.

“A what?” You turned to face him, a sarcastic smile on your face growing wider as he started to shrink more and more. You got up close in his face, daring him to say what he really wanted to. So he could reinforce your belief in exactly the type of person he was. “A what?” 

Spencer pursed his lips and shook his head, refusing to say it no matter how much you challenged him. If he wasn’t going to have the balls to say it, you decided to take it upon yourself.

“Tell you what, you keep thinking about it and get back to me the next time you’re in a cunty mood.” 

The word he was thinking of was probably not as bad, but you had a habit of escalating things. Even if you took this one too far, you didn’t care. 

Before you tried to take off again, Spencer’s hand flew to your elbow. He tugged you back, forcing you to turn around and face him. He didn’t know his own strength; without any resistance, you came stumbling into his chest, at risk of falling over if it weren’t for his tight grip on your arm.

It took you a beat to push him away with both your hands on his chest, vocalizing your disgust for being so close to him. 

“Can you stop trying to disagree with me for a second? I’m trying to tell you that you’re right, I was being a… well, you know…” He avoided the word. Apparently ‘cunt’ was where he drew the line. “I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve it.” 

Your nostrils were still flared and blood hot as ever, but he made you pause. He looked sincere, if not a little tinged with guilt as well. You were suspicious of it.

“You saw me crying and felt bad, didn’t you?”

He laughed darkly. “Well, I saw you, yes. Did I feel bad? No.” 

“Oh, my God,” you growled, berating yourself for getting close to believing he might be capable of decency. 

“I’m joking! I’m joking.” He squeezed your elbow twice in earnest. “I did feel bad, but that’s not why I wanted to say it.”

“Okay.” You weren’t ready to give him a real smile, so you flattened your lips into a thin line and nodded once slowly, and left it at that. 

You still weren’t a fan, but the apology did dampen some of the resentment. Maybe he wasn’t the worst person alive. You’d settle for saying top ten most annoying, instead.

Minutes later, you came to the startling realization that he was still on the path, just two paces behind you. You flinched when you saw him out of the corner of your eye, not expecting him to still be here. 

“Uhm. Where are you… why are you still following me?” 

“I’m not. My car’s that way,” he gestured to the parking lot at the end of the long walkway. “I forgot my loaf for the ducks.” He didn’t mean to offer that information up, it just slipped out. He could practically see your smug expression coming before it even got there.

“You’re not supposed to feed bread to the ducks. It’s bad for them.”

“I don’t.” He didn’t care to explain this to you, but he couldn’t have you thinking he was any less competent than he really was. “It’s a special bread made from water and seeds that were ground into flour. It’s duck-safe.” 

“They make duck-safe bread?” Now that was something you’d never heard before. 

“No… I make duck-safe bread,” he said softly under his breath. 

You didn’t know how else you were supposed to react to that besides laughing wildly. 

“You make it?” He nodded like you were the crazy one here. As if he wasn’t the one spending his spare time grinding up seeds and baking loaves of bread for ducks, donning a frilly pink apron and oven mitts as he did so. At least that’s how you imagined it. “Why not just feed them the seeds?”

“Because, loose seeds will sink in the water and can potentially clog waterbeds and cause foreign bacteria growth in the pond.” 

“So you… hand-make the seeds into a little loaf of bread so it doesn't do that?”

He confirmed. You pondered silently for a moment, then absolutely had to ask, “You ever eaten the duck bread before?”

Spencer was caught off guard by that question. His cheeks deepened to a rosy color.

“Yeah, well, it was the house so…” he laughed nervously and stared at his sneakers. “It’s actually not too bad.”

You weren’t entirely surprised by that. You remembered what his grocery basket looked like, and given those same options, you probably would’ve tried the duck bread too. Still, you cracked the smallest of grins at knowing he makes bread for ducks. The one, sole redeeming fact you’ve learned about Spencer. 

You reached your car first, and Spencer stopped in front of it with you. 

“I’m actually sorry, you know,” he whispered once more, hand resting at the top of your car door as you opened it. He wasn’t talking about the incident at the bookstore.

“Yeah…” For a while you were so busy being angry at Spencer that you forgot about your own problems. 

He noticed your nose was still red around the edges, eyes still a little bleary. “Are you okay, by the way?” His voice was too soft, too genuine.

You shook your head no.

“Is there anything I can do?” You shook your head again. And then you had an awful thought.

You knew he was just offering to help just to say it, because that’s how people react when you say you’re not okay even if they don’t care. But there actually was something he could do for you… Something that Penelope could do.

“Uh, no but…” you fixed your hair and tucked it behind your ear, seamlessly switching to a flirtier voice. “If you still feel bad about the other day, you’re welcome to make it up to me.”

Spencer cocked his head to the side, unsure of how he could do that. 

“Hang out with me sometime.”

“H-hang out?” You could tell that it flustered him, even if he tried to play it off. He swallowed thickly, nose twitching and brows scrunched together.

“Relax, I really do just mean hang out.” You were lying through your teeth. He didn’t need to know that. 

As if he didn’t want to think about it for a second longer and just get out of this conversation as quickly as possible, he agreed without thinking it through. He didn’t even ask why an almost complete stranger would want to hang out with him. 

You stuck your hand out, expecting him to hand over his cell so you could put your contact into it. He rocked on the balls of his feet, watching as you input your contact and sent yourself a text on his phone.

“Hi, this is…” you read out your message as you typed, pausing at just the right place. “What’s your name by the way?”

“Oh-uh, I’m Spencer.” 

A devilish grin took over your face, hidden from his view while you were looking down at the screen. He was going to be easy to fool.

-

-

agh! im still not in love with how this chapter is turning out, but it came to a point where i just had to stop fiddling with it and just post it. any feedback or comments about this story is very much appreciated 💕

thank you so much for being on my taglist 💕 

if you’d like to join, the link is at the top of my masterlist

@ellesgreenaway @suburban–gothic @mercy-burning @reidspurple @mediocre-writer @honeyboysteezy @andreasworlsboring101 @calm-and-doctor @drayshadow @reidgifs @you-sunshine @no-alarms-no-surprises-silence @altsvu @reidtheprettyboy @goose-eats-god @sonnydoesrandomshit @rigatonireid @muffin-cup @amoeebaa @reidingmelodies @reidyoulikeabook @anaagraceeberr @spencerreid9 @luvofyourlifeliv @averyhotchner @spencerreidat3am @paw71211 @princesssmooshie @gubeskneescrew @gourdboy @reid-me-a-story @reidabookforonce @willowrose99 @singularityjc @spencerreid9 @miahelen @alltooreid @meganskane @multixfandomwriter @coldlilheart @lunajoyce3 @boldlyvoid @destiny-tsukino @ahhahahhh @spencers-dria @cocomoo1 @spenxerslut @thehuntresswolf @ssa-natalya-reid @the-chaotic-cow @kuolonsyoja @queenofthepouges @gublersss @username2002 @msspencerreid @itwouldburnupintheatmosphere @oeuryale @big-galaxy-chaos @reidsacademia @idonotexiste @rem-ariiana @spencerreidscumwhore @spaceapplehead @newgirlinhell @noellestrash @jswessie187 @reidaissance @violetclifford @fruitoftheweek @mystical-and-modern-marauder @ilovespencerreidmarryme @mlqcool @opheli-yeah @lytrc @youabitchhhh @spencerscumrag @dinonuggets1967 @flowerchildprotectiveservices @annalayton19 @mrsobrien888 @toast-on-t0ast @xoxospencerreid @motionlessgirl12 @bloodyxheaven @my-thoughts-are-weird @rexorangecouny @nani-2305 @measure-in-pain @donald4spiderman @mrs-dr-reid @manuosorioh @sapphic-prentiss @reid-me-a-story @reblogsoffanfics @winifrede @peoniarose @takeyourleap-of-faith @morks-watermelon @silverhetdanes @luwheezey @cc13723things @starrylang @b00b133 @kidd3ath @seastarapiaries  @sergiosbae  @mrsobrien888 @jesuisbenny  @cocomoo1 @youabitchhhh @this-is-doctor-and-its-calm @silverhetdanes @onlyhereforthefanfics @shesalatesh @amoeebaa @happymangospot @spencersrose @mugi-chwan @reidsadriana @death-becomes-her @nyx2021 @subbyspencereid @this-is-doctor-and-its-calm @nomajdetective @cherriesrae @bisexual-virgin @jasminearondottir @gublur @greenrevolutionary @honeyedheartss @gspenc @sweetandsunny @the-chaotic-cow​ @morganwilliams  @futuremrsreid @spencerreidsmommy @meanergreener​

series only taglist: @madsgraygubler @manuosorioh @fanfictionfangirl04@donkeykongsmassiveballs @rexorangecouny​ @iwannabemorethanme@mlqcool @lightning-butterfly

new tags not working: @strawberrycherrykisses @marrymespencerreid @iilwsr @chelsea-the-enchanted @craybae1116

(and just so you don’t think i removed you from the taglist/sign up again without knowing, these tags are. also not working): @pissbit @redevil590 @kaz-2y567 @datsimplol @reid-to-me @rem-ariiana @thegirlinthedresscriedalltheway @jaddi-e @spencerswildestdreams1 @sskylarpaige26 @zbgubler @nyasiablack1899 @faithsamantha @chrisdylan17 @just_arandomwriter @peterisbetterthanpietro @thegirlinthedresscriedalltheway @jaddi-e @chloehanson

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid series #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid slow burn #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x you #spencer reid enemies to lovers #criminal minds fic #mgg

[just-another-blog-of-fluff]

The Waiting Game

Warnings: tickling, fluff

Word count: 3200

I'm not as happy with how this one came out as the last two, but if I keep thinking about it I'll never post it so... hope it's alright!

* * *

You knew you shouldn’t tell anyone. You knew there would be consequences. But it was just too good of an opportunity to pass up.

You had been taking care of your friend’s pet hamster while they were away for the weekend. For the most part, you’d kept it in your room in its cage to avoid bothering the others with all the noise it made overnight, running on its squeaky wheel at all hours. When everyone else had left the compound for the day, you decided the poor animal could use some real exercise. You had placed the critter in his little hamster ball and brought him to the common area so he could roll around freely.

Except, the little door that closed the ball wasn’t latched all the way. Oops.

Before you knew it, you were crawling around on your hands and knees trying to locate your friend’s pet. You left little snacks out around the room in hopes it would get curious and come out of hiding to munch on something. You were so focused on the task at hand you hadn’t noticed Loki had entered the room, until you heard his voice behind you.

“What in the norns are you doing?” he inquired. You turned to look at him, just as you saw a little fuzzy creature tear across the room and right in front of the dark-haired god. He let out a somewhat undignified yelp as he jumped back. Luckily, the hamster stopped at one of the treats you’d left for him, giving you ample opportunity to scoop him up in your hands. “W-what is that?”

“This is my friend’s hamster!” you explained, giggling at his reaction. “The better question is – what was that noise you made? Don’t tell me you’re afraid of this little thing?”

“Of course not! It merely startled me, is all,” he quickly insisted. You held the hamster out toward him, and Loki took a nearly imperceptible step backward.

“Mmhmm, ok. Not scared. Got it.” Grinning, you moved your hand back and petted the hamster gently on the head. “What would the others think if they knew you a tiny little rodent made you freak out?”

Loki narrowed his eyes at you. “Never speak of this,” he demanded, pointing a finger firmly at you to emphasize. He quickly left the room after that, likely to regain his composure.

But you couldn’t just not tell anyone about this gold nugget of information you’d just learned. So, naturally, you told his brother. And Thor, not one for keeping secrets, told everyone else. Needless to say, there was quite a bit of teasing over the next couple of days. You steered clear of the god, knowing he would not take kindly to your having informed the rest of the team about the little incident.

You couldn’t avoid him forever, though. A couple days later, after having returned the pet to your friend, you were making breakfast for yourself in the kitchen when Loki’s voice echoed from the doorway.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” he stated, his tone ominous. You turned from the stove to meet his eye, smiling sweetly to mask your nervousness at being confronted by the trickster.

“No, of course not! We just haven’t crossed paths,” you fibbed. He rolled his eyes.

“Oh yes – I suppose yesterday in the hallway you just realized you forgot something SO important you had to literally sprint in the opposite direction as you saw me approach?”

“Oh… alright, fine. Yes, I’ve been avoiding you. Wouldn’t you do the same?” Loki stepped into the kitchen, taking a few gradual steps toward you.

“You must know there are consequences when you cross me,” he warned. “You humiliated me, and so I think it only fair I do the same to you.”

“Well good luck with that, I’m an open book. There’s no secrets you can use against me,” you quipped.

“You see, I thought that may be the case, so I started querying the other Avengers,” he explained, now standing only a few feet away from you. Instinctively, you put down your half-cooked breakfast and took a step away from the advancing Asgardian. “Most of them had fairly useless information – scared of spiders, fairly standard human weakness… sleeps with a stuffed bear, which everyone already seemed to know about…”

“Please. That’s not embarrassing,” you huffed.

“…and then I spoke to the spider child. He provided me with some very interesting information about you.” Loki smirked, causing you to laugh nervously.

“Oh, do tell,” you urged, folding your arms across your chest, and trying to play it off as a laugh of disbelief. Loki had now backed you into the corner of the kitchen, which you hadn’t realized until your back met the cold plaster of the wall.

“He informed me that the only time he’s ever seen you truly flustered and embarrassed was during one of your sparring matches, when he accidentally learned about your little secret.” Realization dawned on you, and you tensed up immediately. “He described how you’d begged him not to tell anyone, and he hadn’t up until this point. Apparently he finds me threatening, so it wasn’t difficult to convince him to start talking.”

“I-I don’t know what he could possibly be talking about,” you muttered.

“I think you do,” Loki argued. He pounced at you, lunging with his hands aimed at your sides, causing you to squeak and curl into yourself. His hands stopped inches away from you, close enough that your skin tingled from sheer proximity to his fingertips. “You’re ticklish. Severely, based on that reaction.”

“Pshh, no I’m not! That’s… that’s ridiculous,” you denied, your lie exposed by your nervous giggles and blushing face.

“Mmhmm, I’m sure.” His hands darted toward your belly, again stopping right before he made contact. You yelped and whipped your arms down across your torso to protect yourself. Loki’s smirk only grew wider.

“Ok, fine. You’re right. Just… get it over with!” you begged.

“Oh no. Where would be the fun in that?” he chuckled, stepping back and allowing you space to move away from the wall. “I’ve got to build some anticipation. Catch you when you least expect it.”

“That’s just mean!” you groaned. Loki laughed again, turning around to leave the kitchen. Just before he left, he called over his shoulder.

“You’d better watch your back.”

* * *

Loki’s little game went on for days.

You were on edge at any given moment. Peeking around corners before entering rooms, listening through doors before opening them, trying to ensure your safety before making a move. You half expected him to jump out of nowhere and attack you with tickles on your way down the hallway, but it never happened. Still, you made your travel between rooms as brief as possible.

You wouldn’t say you were dreading the moment he finally did decide to pounce. In fact, in a way the idea made your heart flutter with excitement. What made you most nervous was the thought of the team figuring out you actually enjoyed being tickled, especially Loki. You were certain that that would be the embarrassing part. That, and the fact that you were already flustered by being around Loki long before he figured out this bit of information about you.

You couldn’t always avoid him. There were times that you had to be in the same room for prolonged periods, like during meetings. Loki always seemed to have things set up before you arrived so that the only seat remaining in the room was next to him. You considered sitting on the floor, once, but Steve gave you a scorning look which made you shrink down into the chair beside Loki, albeit begrudgingly. During these meetings, Loki always made sure to keep you on your toes; leaning towards you abruptly and placing his hand on the back of your chair, making you jump, only to whisper something about the meeting presentation, or some ridiculous observation about his brother.

It wasn’t just during work-related gatherings, either. One night, you joined a few of your teammates in the common room to watch a TV show together. Wanda stood up from the couch beside you to go grab a snack from the kitchen, and out of nowhere Loki swooped in and sat down in the spot she previously occupied.

“Good evening,” he greeted you, smirking as you shuffled further toward the edge of the couch to increase the distance between the two of you.

“Loki,” you grunted stiffly in reply.

“Now, y/n, that’s no way to greet your fellow team member,” he scolded tauntingly, clapping a hand on your shoulder, and causing you to flinch away reflexively. He leaned back against the couch, casually propping his feet up on the coffee table in front of you – a stark contrast from your position, huddled in the corner of the couch hugging your knees to your chest in an effort to make yourself as small as possible. “Pray tell, what are we watching?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” you huffed. Maybe this whole situation was making you feel a little bratty toward the Asgardian, but in all honesty he really did deserve it.

Suddenly he lunged toward you, causing you to squeak and jolt away from his fingertips. He never touched you, though, closing his fingers around the TV remote sitting on the couch beside you with a smug grin on his face.

“My, my, aren’t we jittery this evening?” he teased, settling back into his seat as he pointed the remote toward the TV to check the guide and find out the show title you had refused to provide.

“Everything alright over there, antsy-pants?” Tony asked, having witnessed the whole interaction.

“Yup! Just peachy,” you replied quickly, shooting Loki a quick glare.

“Peachy? Uh… alright then…” Tony scrutinized you for a moment before turning his attention back to the TV screen.

Needless to say, you didn’t really remember any of the rest of the show from that evening.

Then, as if these group gatherings weren’t enough, there was also your regularly scheduled training sessions. One morning, when Nat had you practicing throwing punches at the punching bag, you sensed Loki lurking around behind you. You turned your head just enough to catch him in your peripheral vision standing a few feet away, observing you silently.

“Better watch yourself – I might just throw one of these punches in your direction,” you threatened, keeping your eye on him as you continued to practice.

“Such hostility,” he teased. “Surely this much stress can’t be good for a mortal such as yourself.” He quickly advanced toward you, causing you to spin around and throw your hands up in front of you in defense. A deep, throaty laugh escaped his lips at your reaction. “You’ve only proven my point. You must learn not to be so tense.” He grabbed hold of your shoulder and turned you around, kneading both shoulders with his strong hands. Under normal circumstances, you’d have melted under his touch, but you were unwilling to let your guard down even for a moment. You grabbed his wrists and turned back to face him, pointing an accusing finger in his face.

“I’m not just going to let you slip past my defenses that easily,” you warned, stepping backward toward the door to leave while he smirked at you in amusement.

“Oh, don’t worry - I’m certain of that.”

* * *

After a week of this charade, you were really getting anxious. You were starting to flinch at every little sound, every rapid movement anyone made in your direction. Even when it wasn’t Loki you were interacting with, you couldn’t help but feel uneasy. The anticipation was literally driving you insane.

You entered the training room that morning ready to release some of your stress in your sparring session. Unfortunately, Steve had started noticing over the last few days that you and Loki were in the middle of some sort of conflict, and so he assigned the two of you as sparring partners, telling you to either fight it out or get over whatever it was. Reluctantly, you stepped out onto the sparring mat and faced your opponent, already starting to feel nervous butterflies in your stomach. Loki shot you his characteristic mischievous smirk, ducking into his fighting stance.

“I’ll do my best to make this a fair fight,” he goaded. You mimicked his stance, narrowing your eyes at him across the mat.

“Just get on with it, Loki,” you ordered. You didn’t wait around for him to make the first move, throwing a quick one-two punch which he dodged easily. He countered with a jab toward your ribs, stopping just before he made contact, but it was enough to make you flinch. You aimed a low-sweeping kick at his ankles but missed again as he hopped over your leg. Frustrated, you threw another sloppy punch toward his shoulder, but he grabbed hold of your wrist and yanked you toward him, spinning you around easily and pinning your arm behind your back, his other hand gripping your waist.

“Do you yield?” he asked, his voice low in your ear. You spun back around and yanked your wrist free in one fluid motion, driving him backward by slamming your forearm into his chest.

“Not just yet,” you grunted, grinning as he stumbled from the unexpected force. Loki quickly regained his balance, wasting no time in lunging at you again. This time, he aimed his hand toward your side, causing you to yelp and twist awkwardly to avoid his touch.

“Did Natasha teach you that move? Your form is getting sloppy.”

“You know exactly what made me move like that,” you muttered, jumping back on the offensive and landing a couple of blows to his shoulder. He retaliated with a jab straight at your stomach, stopping his own momentum early enough that he merely tapped his fist against your belly. You doubled over, wrapping both arms around your torso protectively.

“It seems your fighting skills require quite a bit of work.”

“Damnit, Loki!” you shouted, unable to take it anymore. “If you’re going to do it, just do it!”

“I’m not sure what you mean,” he replied, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Oh, you know exactly what I mean. You’ve been finding every excuse to lean toward me or make a sudden move in my direction to make me think you’re going to do it. I can’t stand it anymore!” You didn’t quite realize how loudly you were shouting at this point, causing heads to turn in your direction without your noticing. “I know this was all part of your grand plan, to drive me insane with anticipation. You win! I give! Just… get it over with already, please!”

In one swift motion, Loki tackled you flat on your back onto the mat, arms pinned over your head. You felt your stomach somersault, partially from the sudden drop to the floor and partially from the wide smirk on Loki’s face as he hovered over you.

“Well, since you asked so nicely…” Loki released both of your wrists and latched both hands to your sides, squeezing rapidly. You burst into uncontrollable laughter at the agonizingly ticklish sensation. Even Loki seemed somewhat taken aback by your reaction. “No wonder you were so concerned; the spider boy certainly wasn’t lying.”

“Damn you Peteheher!!!” you groaned through your laughter. At this point, everyone in the room had stopped what they were doing to see what the sudden commotion was about. You could feel your face burning, knowing everyone’s eyes were on you as Loki tickled you senseless.

You couldn’t bring yourself to fight back very hard, though; after all, you’d been waiting for this to happen for an entire week. You hoped it didn’t seem too obvious. You didn’t dwell on it for long, though, as Loki’s fingers crawled up to your ribs, depriving you of all coherent thought.

“Do you regret spreading humiliating rumors about me yet?” he teased, his smirk widening.

“N-no!”

“Tsk, tsk, wrong answer, darling,” Loki shook his head in mock disappointment, his hands darting back down to your sides so he could dig his thumbs into your hips.

“Lo… Loki… wahahait!” you pleaded, shrieking at the new sensation, and swatting feebly at his hands.

“I’m sorry, I’m not comprehending what you’re trying to tell me.” He was laughing now, clearly enjoying himself as he made you squirm under his torturous fingers. “Come, now, darling; I know you can fight better than that.” You shook your head rapidly, grasping weakly at his wrists. He moved to scribble lightly into your belly, trying to allow you the chance to talk while still keeping you giggling. “Use your words, love.”

“I-I cahahan’t!” you protested.

“You can’t? Or you’ve chosen not to?” Your eyes widened a bit, realizing he’d caught on to you. “Are you enjoying this?”

Blushing furiously, you rolled abruptly to the side to break his hold and scrambled to your feet, gasping for breath. Loki stood as well, staring you down for just a moment before lunging toward you. You turned and began to run, but the god easily caught up to you, grabbing hold of your arm and yanking you backward so he could trap you in what you could only describe as a bear hug.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“Um…” Your heart was pounding in your chest from both exertion and embarrassment. “No? That would be… that would be weird.”

“On the contrary; I find it amusing. Dare I say… endearing, even.”

“Really..? Are you sure-” You were cut off by your own hysterical laughter as Loki dug his fingertips into your ribs, tickling you with renewed vigor. With your arms pinned to your sides and your back pressed flush against his chest, there was very little hope of you escaping this time.

“Surely you understand the implications of this newfound knowledge, dear? You’ve provided me with the perfect excuse to torment you whenever I’d like.”

“Stohohop teasing… LOKIHIHI!” you pleaded, your knees going weak as his fingers darted up and down your sides. You’d completely forgotten about everyone else in the room at this point, your mind going fuzzy. The only thing keeping you standing upright at this point was Loki holding your weight up as he tortured you.

By the time he released you from his hold, your stomach hurt from laughing so hard, and tears of mirth blurred your vision. It had been quite some time since anyone had tickled you like that. Heat still prickled in your cheeks, but you felt happy, nonetheless.

“Damn. Now I know how to cheer you up when you’re moping around the tower,” Tony quipped, walking past you and patting your shoulder as everyone finally returned to their own training exercises.

“Shut up, Tony,” you groaned, hiding your face in your hands. A swift poke in the sides made you jerk both arms down away from your face.

“I do believe we’re even,” Loki stated, smirking.

“Fine. We’re even. Now – can we finish our sparring match? Without cheating this time?” You shoved his shoulder playfully to emphasize your point. He only grinned wider.

“Darling, I refuse to make promises that I don’t intend to keep.”

#loki tickle #ticklish!reader #tickle fluff #marvel tickle #tickle fic

[clarks-letterman]

Bucky Barnes x Male!Reader

A/N: Okay so this is gonna be a series, and so it’s kinda slow with yours and Bucky’s relationship, sorry not sorry:)

TW: abusive and creepy boss, cursing, slight gore(?)

The snow rapidly fell to the ground as you muttered some 'uh huhs' and 'mhmms' while on the phone. You lightly tugged at your incredibly short uniform, nervous at what news would come next to make this morning even worse.

"(Y/n) (L/n) get back to work! Your ass better be in here in the next minute or you're fired!" Your boss yelled, keeping track of how long you were on break. He really wanted to get his money's worth for what he was paying for you to serve people. Usually, you were good at keeping track of the time but it was your landlord on the phone. He had regretfully told you that you were being evicted by the end of this month.

"Coming!" You yelled back, praying he wouldn't be mad if you could just explain yourself. Meeting back up with him inside that's exactly what you tried to do. "Sor-sorry, it was just my landlor-" he cut you off, "I don't give a shit, that's a personal call that went over your given break time. Now get back to work."

"On it", you said politely, not wanting to deal with anything else he had to say.

God, there was so much you wanted to say to him.

Mostly the fact that he was a major creep, going so far as to make you wear a women's uniform. It was both embarrassing and uncomfortable, as it was tighter than a male's uniform. Besides that, he never gave you an ounce of respect, and made you do every disgusting clean up job in the diner.

~~~

Later that day wasn't any easier, so you couldn't even look forward to a calm evening shift. The only thing that ever made it better was your two favorite customers, Steve Rodgers and Sam Wilson. They were by far the nicest customers to ever visit the diner.

You quickly seated them and tried holding a short conversation after they gave their orders, but your boss immediately shut it down. The sloppy, older male had come over, "What's going on here, (Y/n)? Don't distract the customers with your bullshit." You could smell the beer he had drank, not even waiting until after closing to drink it.

Steve interjected to try and ease your boss, "Actually, we had started the conversation with (Y/n)."

"Whatever", he said gruffly, "just go get their food, bitch." You walked away quite fast, trying not to set him off in front of customers.

~~~

"I hate him, I hate him so fucking much." You vented to yourself in the kitchen, trying to make whatever Steve and Sam had ordered. Since the boss went on a drunk firing-spree a few days ago, almost no one was left working in the kitchen. Which left you to do double the work for the same pay.

"I hate the fact I'm doing more work, I hate that he's a fucking weirdo", you kept talking to yourself, just trying to get whatever emotions out before you left the kitchen to talk to him. As you were talking, you noticed the cabinets starting to sway open and some of the dishes in the sink were shaking violently.

"I hate that I'm being evicted by someone who is just as bad as my boss, I hate-", you stopped yourself when one of the plates had fallen off the counter. Panic set in as you desperately tried picking it up with only your hands, only to cut them on the broken pieces of the glass plate. That's when you heard your boss approaching. "Fuck", you muttered under your breath.

The footsteps came closer, and you looked up to the kitchen door. He came in, swinging both doors open and looking like he was going to kill you. "You bitch", he said, using his strength to pick you up and slam you against the wall, hard.

"After everything I do for you!? You're so fucking ungrateful", he says as he pressed you against the wall even harder. Your boss is preventing you from breathing, so it feels as if you were sinking.

All you could do what let out a small chuckle, "The fuck did you ever do for me?"

The lack of oxygen was kicking in, you were fading in and out of consciousness, your vision was going blurry. A terrible pounding in your head was taking over, although it didn't last long. You didn't know why but your boss must have slowly let go of you, as the pressure of him against you was gone. Regaining your vision was quick to follow after the pressure was gone, but maybe you shouldn't have seen the sight before you.

~~~

Outside of the kitchen, in the dining area, Steve and Sam patiently waited for their food. They knew how your boss was hurtful to his employees, and honestly felt bad for you. And they tried to help by going to the diner to support you. So, they were patient for their food, and never complained if there was a problem.

Concern washed over both of them though, as they heard the glass breaking and yelling going on in the kitchen. Which they expected, but it's what happened next that surprised them.

Everything in the dining area was floating, from things as small as forks to things as big as tables. Steve and Sam weren't sure what it was, so the escorted any remaining customers out. Then, they went into the kitchen to help you, and begrudgingly, your boss.

What they saw was quite horrifying, since it all came from you. It was your boss, in the air, as he seemingly choked on nothing. You were slumped against the wall, your eyes dazed as you let out sounds as if there was a struggle. Steve tried to help your boss, while Sam ran over to you.

"(Y/n), (Y/n)!", Sam shook you, trying to get you out of your trance.

"Hu-huh?" You said softly, glancing at Sam and then over at you boss. He'd made a loud thud, which you were confused by.

"He's out", Steve said, walking over to join you and Sam. "How did you do that?", he asked.

The memories started coming back to you, "I don't know, I was just really upset."

Sam looked up at Steve, who towered over you, "Do you think he's like Maximoff?"

"Maybe," Steve replied, "(Y/n) do you want to come with us to the Avengers Compound? I think there's some people you need to meet."

~~~

Walking into the Avengers Compound, you were shaking more than an intense earthquake.

Do I have powers?, you thought, What if it's nothing? I'd feel so bad for wasting their time.

The thoughts plagued your head, you always doubted your what you were capable of. Honestly, you doubted yourself now more than ever.

It's so dumb that I even have any kind of power, like why of all people did I-, Steve cut off your thoughts.

"And here is the conference room", he said.

Fuck. Holy shit I am not ready for this, you felt as if every part of you had turned to stone.

Sam was following behind both of you, but cut ahead to let himself in the room. Steve then kept the door open, letting you walk in before him and following behind you as you entered the room.

Steve quickly guided you to the front, letting you be seen by the Avengers that were in the room. Only a few of them were identifiable to you; Tony Stark, Nick Fury, and Spider-Man. That wasn't including Steve and Sam though, as you already knew them. Spider-Man was wearing his mask, most likely to keep his identity from you.

The only other person in the room besides them, was a guy you didn't recognize. You focused on his features. He had brown hair that was parted down the middle, which had fallen and covered a good bit of his face. Being seated meant you only saw his upper-body, and could see him sporting a metal arm alongside a leather jacket with straps. Similarly to Spider-Man, he too was wearing a mask. It only covered half his face, leaving his pastel blue eyes to express each emotion he felt. If you were being honest, you actually wanted to see the rest of his face.

You moved your focus back to the silence of the room, realizing Steve had finished introducing you to the group.

"So, what can he do?" Tony asked, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair. Clearly waiting to be impressed by you.

"Well, he's like Maximoff," Steve said, "he can move things with his mind."

Sam joined into the conversation, "Yeah, he made dozens of things float in the air at the restaurant, and it was some seriously heavy stuff."

Tony and Nick seemed intrigued by hearing this, but you decided to correct them. "Tha-that's right, but I'm not sure how I-ieven managed to do that." You stuttered as the man in the back's eyes met yours while you talked.

Tony started talking right after you, "Well, that's what training is for."

~~~

It was the following day, and you were beyond nervous for your first day of training.

There was a short period of relief last night that washed over you, but any remnants of it had already dried up. Apparently, you were going to spend the next few weeks at the Avenger's compound where you would be able to hopefully learn to control your power. You were glad to hear that they were more than welcoming, as you were getting evicted and would have no where else to go.

Outside of the positive changes in your life, you were stuck thinking about last night. You came across the guy from earlier in the conference room, who had gone from being a stranger to a jerk in your mind. While everyone else you spoke to was nice, he wasn't. When you greeted him after the meeting, he only gave you a look that was as if he wanted to hurt you. The only good thing to come from it was that you saw him without his mask, which you could say that you weren't disappointed in what he looked like.

Your train of thought was put on a halt when you saw someone phase through the wall that was adjacent to your bed.

"Oh- uh, you're-" You paused for a second, "Vision, right?"

"Indeed, Mr.Stark requested that I made sure you were awake and dressed by seven-thirty for your training." He spoke, his eyes following you as you got up from your bed and went over to the closet.

"Okay, thank you?" You said the last bit in an odd tone, feeling the awkwardness of the conversation after Vision gave you the information about your training.

Grabbing some clothes, you turned around and was ready to ask him to leave. Except he wasn't there.

Huh, I guess phasing through walls in a quiet thing to do, you thought, chuckling a little to yourself.

~~~

"Okay, tiger. Let's see what you got." Tony stated over the loudspeakers, with Natasha, Bruce, and the guy from last night standing behind him.

They had put you in a testing room, with the other four being separated from you by an incredibly strong glass wall. You weren't gonna lie, it felt weird to be observed like this. It didn't help calm you down, if anything, it had made you more nervous.

The next ten minutes only embarrassed you, as you were told to move various things around the room, but the efforts were to no avail. It made you feel weak to try and replicate what Wanda had demonstrated for you the previous night.

You approached the glass wall and spoke to the four Avengers, "I'm starting to think I don't have any powers."

"Hey, Bucky, why don't you give (y/n) here a little motivation?" Tony asked, gesturing toward the door that connected the separated areas.

Bucky, huh, I wonder why he never told me his name himself, you thought.

As he walked in, you quickly made your way over to him and extended you hand, "Hi Bucky, I'm (y/n), I don't think we-".

He cut you off, "It's James".

"Okay, James. Well I'm glad to hopefully be working alongside you soon." He didn't reply, only keeping a serious face as he walked to the opposite end of the room from where you stood.

Great, the one guy who actually looks like he wants to hurt me is giving me 'motivation'.

Once again, he glared at you before pulling out a throwing knife. He took a second to aim it before throwing it at you before you could protest against it.

With natural reflex you raised you hands to cover your face and turned you head, waiting for the blade to pierce your skin. Although, you never felt any pain, so you slowed opened you eyes and looked around to see where it had gone.

That's when you noticed it had diverted upwards and went into the ceiling, seemingly right before it hit you.

"Oh thank god." You mumbled under your breath.

Tony then sent in Natasha to see if you divert various things at once. James threw another knife at you, while Natasha fired her gun.

Their combined efforts did not work though, as the bullets went in random directions that were anywhere but near you. James' second knife had been sent into the ceiling again.

"Bucky and Natasha, come back in here. I wanna see if (y/n) can handle the Hulk!" Tony exclaimed, while Bruce stripped down to his boxers before walking in the room.

In seconds he had grown into the swollen green beast, and you were tasked with force of using your power on him.

Shit, I'm supposed to move him?

You took a deep breath and exhaled, trying to focus on using your power to lift the Hulk. At first, it was surprisingly easy to lift him, but you started to struggle. There was this pounding in your head and your body felt like it was being constricted by a tremendous amount of force.

Hulk fell to the ground as you did yourself. The sounds of a distressed Tony and Natasha running into the room was the last thing you heard before everything went dark.

~~~

Your eyes slowly opened as the sound of the heart rate monitor got progressively more annoying to you. Over the sound of the monitor, you heard two people talking. Unfortunately, you could barely move from when you passed out.

“Look, I know him okay! I know who (y/n)”, You weren’t sure who it was, but you guessed it to be James.

“What do you mean? He was just a waiter and now he’s gonna be part of the team, who else could he be, Bucky?”, To you, this guy sounded like Steve from his voice.

Bucky took a second to respond, “He’s from HYDRA.”

#bucky barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky x y/n #fatws bucky #bucky x male reader #bucky barnes x male reader #gay #fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x male #the winter solider x reader #the winter soldier x male reader #marvel #marvel fanfic series #marvel fanfiction #steve rogers #tony stark #iron man #captain america #movies #male reader #natasha romanov #professor hulk #vision #wanda maximoff

[kuroopaisen]

show off || kuroo tetsurou

➵ nekoma wants proof that their beloved manager and their scheming captain are actually together. for better or worse, your boyfriend is a petty little shit.

wc: 2.5k

warnings: f!reader, the mildest of sexual references 

a/n: thank you once again to ren for beta’ing this :( this was written with the in-between in mind, but it can absolutely be read as a stand-alone! 

“Oi, Tetsu.”

“Hm?” He leaned down to get his face level with yours – a little closer than it should be.

You shoved him away by his shoulder, glaring at him. “You know, you’ve been doing a terrible job at being subtle.”

He grinned, straightening up and ruffling your hair. “What’s wrong?”

“Are you sure it’s a good idea?” You asked, eyes flicking over to the rest of the team. The two of you were courtside as Kuroo took a quick ‘water break.’ You had a feeling that his increasingly frequent breaks were less about keeping his hydration up, and more about gazing at you with a touch too much affection. 

“What, telling them we’re together?” He asked, raising an eyebrow at you. 

“Sh!”

He chuckled, resisting the urge to poke your nose. “You think we shouldn’t tell them?” He smirked. “Ever?”

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.” You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest. “It’s just that… you know. The gym isn’t exactly neutral ground.”

He snorted. “Neutral ground, huh?”

“You know what I mean,” you huffed.

“Can’t say I do.” 

“You’re so mean,” you whined. If you were alone, you might’ve buried your face in his chest. But, you couldn’t really do that now. 

“I’m sorry,” he grinned, ruffling your hair yet again. “But we should tell them. And soon.” 

You pouted at him, trying to make your eyes as endearing as you could manage. 

“Nice try,” he chuckled. “But not gonna work.” 

“Can we at least tell them when the coaches are gone?” You frowned petulantly, stuffing your hands in the pockets of your jacket. “That’ll make it a tad less embarrassing.”

“Ashamed to be with me?” Kuroo grinned, raising an eyebrow at you.

“No! I just—”

“I know,” he cooed, his fingers finding their way to the your shoulders and giving them a gentle massage. You would’ve melted into that touch, had you been alone.

“What did I say about being subtle?” You glared, but made no effort to whack his arms away. 

“Gotta go,” he smirked, tossing his bottle at you before dashing for the court. You had half a mind to call after him, but you thought better of it. 

You conceded, propping yourself against the wall as you glared at your obnoxiously tall boyfriend as subtly as you could. 

Practice was over much too quickly. You’d almost wanted it to go on forever, given what you were about to do. You knew you had to tell your kids at some point, but the thought was still frightening. What would they think? Would they disapprove? 

Kuroo had said it was better to tell them sooner rather than later, and you’d begrudgingly agreed. It’d be worse if you just kept putting it off, and you were sure your kids would feel like that was a betrayal. 

But the logic of it didn’t stop you from being any less nervous. 

So when everyone was packing up and the coaches had made their exit, Kuroo ambled over to you with a concerned look on his face. 

“You sure you’re okay to tell them tonight?” Kuroo asked, tilting his head at you. 

He was far too good at reading your emotions. Perceptive bastard. 

You nodded, casting your eyes to your kids. “Yeah.”

“We don’t have to tell them if you don’t want to,” he murmured, zipping up his bag. “At least, not here.” 

“It’s okay,” you smiled, trying to quell the hammering in your chest. “It’s like ripping the bandaid off, right?”

Kuroo snorted. “Really? That’s what you’re going to equate our relationship to?” 

“Not our relationship, but—” 

He held back a cackle as he stood up, turning to face the rest of the team.  

“Everyone!”

The other boys turned to look at him, expressions ranging from confusion to annoyance. 

“So,” Kuroo said, slinging an arm around your shoulder. You took a deep breath as you tried to look as unbothered as possible. “We have some important news for you.”

“You’ve actually become a competent captain?” Yaku snorted. 

“Great guess, but no,” Kuroo grinned, looking at you. “We… are finally together.”

“Huh?” Lev tilted his head to the side, looking between the two of you. “Together?”

“Yes,” Kuroo nodded slowly. “Together… romantically.”

“You’re dating?” Inuoka blinked, looking between the two of you.

Kuroo resisted the urge to sigh. “Yes. We’re dating.”

“No way,” Yaku shook his head. “Nuh uh. No way you grew balls and asked her out.”

“Who said I asked her out?” Kuroo gasped, looking down at you.

“She’s too good for you,” Kenma shrugged. Some nods rippled through the rest of the team, the general consensus being one of agreement. You bit back a laugh. That, at least, made you feel a little less nervous.

Kuroo stared at him for a moment, looking between his once-trusted childhood friend and you. 

“Then how do you explain this?” Kuroo asked, gesturing between the two of you, pointing specifically to the arm wrapped around your shoulders.

“Explain what?” Lev asked, tilting his head at the two of you. 

“Well, this is… a thing couples do,” Kuroo murmured, bewilderment working its way into his expression. 

“Not necessarily,” Lev piped up. “I put my arm around her all the time!” 

“Trust me, I know,” Kuroo seethed, pulling you a little closer. 

You bit the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from smiling too widely. Kuroo had never said that Lev’s affection towards you was a problem, but you had caught your boyfriend pouting in your general direction whenever the younger boy got a little bit too close. 

“So… you don’t believe me at all?” Kuroo frowned, looking between all the faces in front of him. 

“Nuh uh.” Several of the boys shook their heads. 

“But… why would we both be standing here, telling you all that we’re dating?” Kuroo asked, trying to grasp at some logical argument. You could tell that his frustration was already growing. You, on the other hand, were having a great time. 

“You offered to pay her five thousand yen,” Yamamoto shrugged. “Only scenario that makes sense.”

“She’s right here, you know.” Kuroo jerked his head at you. 

“Did he offer to pay you, like, five thousand yen or something?” Yamamoto asked, looking you dead in the eye.

“Yes.” You were nervous – but teasing Kuroo seemed like the perfect outlet. 

Kuroo’s head whipped around to look at you, aghast.

You grinned up at him.

“Sorry,” Yaku shrugged, taking a large swig of water. “We’re not just going to believe you without proof.” 

“Oh?” Kuroo raised an eyebrow, a grin spreading across his face. “So you want proof, then?”

The team looked amongst themselves, nodding. “Yeah, actually. We do.”

“I see,” Kuroo hummed, turning to face you. You complied, a small knot of anxiety tightening in your stomach. What was he planning to do?

You caught a glimpse of Kenma’s face. Anticipatory discomfort. Oh, no. 

Kuroo’s hands came up to cup your face, as they had many times this month. But, you trusted him; he wouldn’t do anything to make you comfortable. At least, not without checking with you first. 

He leant in, his breath tickling your ear. “Can I?”

You nodded, a smile tugging at your lips. You knew the team was watching with rapt attention. And you knew that your boyfriend could be a petty little shit.

His lips met yours as he moved his hands to your waist, holding you flush against his body. Your arms found their way around his neck instinctively as you stood on your tiptoes, leaning against him for balance.

Oh.

He meant business.

He hummed, parting your lips with his. Of course he wouldn’t just go for a chaste peck. But, you’d let him get away with it this time.

Your face was burning; you were barely used to him touching you like this in private, let alone in front of your entire team. But you weren’t about to stop him. Your kids said they wanted proof, after all.

You weren’t sure who started it. But someone started screeching.

You could hear Lev screaming, shouting something about ‘betrayal.’ Yamamoto was full-on hollering, the sound ringing through the gym. Was the screeching… Fukunaga, then?

“Alright, that’s enough!” Yaku bellowed, grabbing Kuroo by the collar and yanking him away from you. Kuroo cackled as he stumbled back, arms still reaching out for you.

“You are disgusting,” Yaku cawed, looking between the two of you.

“You said you wanted proof!” Kuroo snickered, hands on his knees as he keeled over.

“Yeah, proof!” Yamamoto shouted. “Not a demonstration.”

“You’re just jealous,” Kuroo snorted, stumbling towards you. You reached out for him, planting your hands on his shoulders.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Inuoka held up a hand, looking between the two of you with wide eyes. “How long has this been going on?”

“Yeah!” Yaku huffed, hands on his hips. “How long have you been keeping this from us?”

“None of your business,” Kuroo grinned, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into his chest. You laughed, letting yourself fall against him.

“They’ve been dating for about a month,” Kenma murmured, hands dug deep in his pockets. If he felt any remorse for outing you two like that, he didn’t show it. 

“A month?” Various sounds of indignation rose up in a racket, and you knew that you had a lot to answer for. 

“You!” Yaku gasped, pointing a finger at you. “You’re complicit in this!”

“Sorry,” you giggled, slipping your arms around Kuroo’s waist. Even you had to admit that the look of absolute betrayal on the boys’ faces was pretty priceless. 

“Aren’t you happy for us?” Kuroo snorted, looking between the team. “Your beloved manager and your captain—”

“Of course we are,” Kai chuckled, raising a hand. “We’re just surprised.” 

“I, for one, thought you had better taste,” Yaku grumbled, jabbing a finger at you. 

“Look, dumbass—” 

“If you’re dating him out of pity, blink twice,” Yamamoto asked, looking you straight in the eye. 

“Don’t you dare,” Kuroo huffed, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

Another round of yells from your kids, mostly consisting of ‘gross!’ and ‘get a room!’ 

You elbowed Kuroo in the stomach swiftly before he could say ‘oh, we intend to.’

As Kuroo continued to gloat about his relationship to a wailing Yamamoto, you began apologising profusely to Lev and Yaku. 

Kai, bless his heart, was doing his best to help you contain the chaos, but to no avail. 

Kenma had very decidedly kept himself out of it, instead absorbing himself in whatever game he was playing on his phone.

 Poor Inuoka still looked confused, but Shibayama was so red in the face that he had to be cognizant of what was going on. 

Fukunaga and Teshiro just watched on, one amused and the other bewildered. 

Somehow, after all that mayhem, you managed to calm the racket down. One by one, everyone began to make their way home. 

You personally wanted to get into the warmth of a home as soon as possible, cold as a winter night in Tokyo could be. 

As usual, you and Kuroo walked with Kenma. The only difference these days was that now you and Kuroo walked hand in hand. Kenma had been the first person to find out about your relationship, and much to your relief, it hadn’t changed how he interacted with the two of you. 

If anything, he seemed quietly grateful that it gave him an opportunity to rag on Kuroo. 

“That was childish of you,” Kenma sighed, his hands dug in his pockets as the three of you trudged down the street. 

“They were insulting my honour,” Kuroo grinned, placing a hand to his chest. The other was wrapped firmly around one of yours. 

Kenma gave him that look, the one that’d make anyone crumple up and feel like a total idiot. But Kuroo was undeterred, that childish grin of his growing bigger. 

“What was I supposed to do? Let them tell me that my girlfriend is too good for me?”

“Your girlfriend is too good for you.”

“Thank you, Kenma,” you beamed, peeking around your boyfriend to catch a glimpse of the second year. 

“The disrespect!” Kuroo scoffed. “To think, I put so much time and effort into being a good captain, and this is–”

“Goodnight,” Kenma cut in, waving a hand at the two of you. You looked over to see that you’d arrived at his house without even noticing. Kenma scuttled towards his front door, hunched over like a little gremlin with his hands stuffed in his pockets. 

“Don’t stay up too late!” Kuroo called after him. “And make sure you eat a good dinner!”

Kenma shot him a dithering look, but Kuroo remained undeterred. 

“And don’t play video games after ten! It’s bad for your eyes!” 

Kenma said nothing as he shut his front door with a resounding ‘thud.’ 

You raised an eyebrow at your boyfriend, who turned to you with a grin. 

“He’ll thank me one day.” 

“You sure?” You smiled. 

“He may not say it,” Kuroo tsked, “but I know he’s grateful deep down.” 

You rolled your eyes at him, but he knew you didn’t mean it. He gave your hand a squeeze as he stepped forward. 

“Alright, let’s get you home,” he sighed, his breath billowing in a little cloud in front of him. 

“Wait,” you said, tugging on his hand. 

“Hm?”

“I’ve got a question.” 

“Huh?” He tilted his head at you, his nose a little red and shiny from the cold. 

“Can I come over?” You hummed, giving his hand a squeeze.  

Kuroo gazed at you for a moment, his heart thrumming in his chest. It wasn’t a strange question, or one that should’ve given him reason to pause. But he still wasn’t used to this sort of thing. To you asking to hang out with him, all of your feelings out in the open. He got to spend time with you without having to hold things so close to his chest that it hurt. You could do everything together, now; talk, laugh, tease, kiss. And somehow, that was all wrapped up in one little question.

“You just want to see my grandma,” he grinned. Sure, he felt all that sentimentality, but he wasn’t about to say it. 

“Oh, of course,” you nodded. “And don’t forget the dog.” 

He looked at you, your cheeks bitten red by the cold on this early December evening, your eyes shining with a pure and wholesome joy. The warmth of your hand was tucked safely in his, your bodies pressed together as you walked down the street. There was no strange tension between you anymore. No fear that either of you might ruin this precious thing you shared. 

“I guess I can live with that.” He smiled, giving your hand a squeeze. 

He’s just happy. Content. Maybe even blissful. 

And for the second time in the past five minutes, Kuroo found himself at the mercy of his own fondness. He gazed at you, the softest of smiles on his face. 

He really was lucky to have you. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” you whined, pressing your face against his arm in an attempt to hide it. 

“Like what?”

“Like… Like…” You grasped at the words, trying to think of anything that wasn’t some form of ‘like you love me.’ You gave up pretty quickly. “Like that!” 

You may not have said those words, but Kuroo knew you well enough to glean what you really meant. 

“I’m your boyfriend!” He chuckled, leaning back and tucking an arm around your waist. “What am I supposed to do?”

“I don’t know,” you whined, covering your face with your gloved hands. “It’s just… you… you’re embarrassing me!” 

“I’m sorry,” Kuroo laughed, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. God, you really were too cute. “Let’s go home.” 

#kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsurou x reader #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo x you #kuroo tetsurou x you #kuroo tetsurou imagine #kuroo tetsurou #anyway i missed him #the in between

[mellowyandere]

SCP Academia Eraserhead Part 3

Reader: F

Characters: Aizawa Shouta

Summary: You’ve been stuck in the stuffy cabin with no one but “Shouta” to keep you company. He won’t even tell you what day it is. November is quickly approaching...

Length: 3K

Warning: non-con, yandere themes, size kink, bondage, vaginal fingering, oral sex, vaginal sex, praise kink, breeding kink 

When you first woke up you were completely thrown off by your new environment. You had been in the bowls of the SCP foundation for years, only occasionally venturing outside to gather intel on potential new SCP’s. Your new home was a small cabin of sorts. One bedroom and one bathroom, with just enough space left over for the kitchen and living room. The house was run by a generator outside, which your oh so gracious host made sure you never got to see. 

He had insisted you call him by his “human” name Shouta. As to why he never mentioned it before? “No one but you deserved to know it,” he had huffed out, as if it was obvious. 

Shouta was incredibly stingy with information, no matter how much you questioned him. What happened to the foundation? Where did he bring you? Why did he bring you here, better yet how? Each question was met with a shrug of his shoulders or a mumbled “that doesn’t matter now.” 

You had given up a couple weeks ago, the man had no intention of letting you get a solid grasp of anything. Especially the date. The foundation breach had occurred sometime in mid September, leaving only a month and a half before November. He was purposefully hiding the information from you like the stingy bastard he was. 

Stingy bastard wasn't exactly fair though. He had been nothing but polite, trying his best to give you things he’d think you’d enjoy and providing for you in ways that surprised you. For example, the man was a phenomenal cook, which looking back explains his utter disdain for any food he had been served at the foundation. 

The main issue was his need to touch you. Pulling you into his lap to engulf you in his long muscular limbs and tendrils, or coming up behind you and placing his large hands on your hips. You were not accustomed to the contact and not very keen on it either. You threw an absolute shit fit when he tried to bathe you, and he, to his credit, let you be. He might have sat on the couch pouting for a couple hours, but eventually got over himself. 

The longer you were stuck with him, the touchier he seemed to get. You dodged him the best you could but finally he had had enough. You normally opted to sleep on the couch, not wanting to share the only bed with him. It was one of many small acts of defiance at your limited disposal. As night fell you crawled onto your makeshift bed, only to be pulled up over the back of the couch by two strong arms. 

“Hey! What gives!”

“I tried to ease you into this but you’re being rather stubborn. From now on you sleep with me.” Shouta didn’t want to push his affection on you too much, hoping you’d come around and open up to him. But time was running out and he needed to make sure he didn’t snap when November finally came. 

“Maybe if you’d answer my questions I’d humor you more!” You felt like you were going insane stuck in here. Was this what he used to feel like trapped in the foundation? No. He had had it one hundred times worse than you, but hardly ever complained.

You squirmed and wriggled in his grip. He growled lowly in his throat, the vibrations rumbling through his chest. You stilled in his arms. With long strides it only took a few steps before he plopped you down on the large sturdy bed. 

“Stay.” You rolled your eyes. He was a man of few words. But you remained, he’d just drag you in here again if you got up. Even though he had been nothing but patient, you felt as if you were reaching the end of his limits. 

-----------

The days spent with Shouta were rather boring. You’d read books to pass the time, or stare longingly out the window. He was never much of a conversationist, but now only seemed willing to talk if you’d make physical contact with him. All in all, the house was too damn quiet.

Thankfully nights spent in his bed were relatively uneventful. He’d try to slowly pull you closer to him but you’d snap and he’d begrudgingly relent. Though that didn’t change the fact that you’d wake up smothered in his embrace, but you’d just wriggle out again. 

As days continue to pass his fuse was getting shorter and shorter, you could feel the shift in his demeanor. Low growls at your attempts to distance yourself. Sharps eyes never leaving you. He was always one step behind you, personal space no longer an option. 

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

You woke up groggy. Why was it so hot? You tried to move but found yourself immobile. You... you couldn't open you eyes?! No wait... yes you could. But a blindfold of sorts kept you from seeing anything. It was warm, just like the bindings on your body. Tendrils. He had you completely wrapped up in his tendrils. You were laying flat on your back, arms bound above your head. 

Then you heard him. Low deep pants. His hot breath fanned against your neck, his nose brushed under your chin. 

“Sho-Shouta?” At the sound of his name he groaned into the soft flesh of your neck. He tried so hard to resist touching you, he really had. But with the month of November upon him he had run out of control.

His large body was on top of you, though he supported himself as to not crush you. “My sweet little stubborn human” he cooed into your neck. “I'm going to take such good care of you...” he almost sounded a bit delirious?

His tongue darted out, hot and wet against your flesh. 

“Wait! Hold on, stop! Shouta pl-please cut it out!” You began to struggle, his tendrils gently sliding over your exposed form. When did he take your clothes off? 

“Y/N..” he growled out.

“Please.. let me at least see.” You needed to try and gain some control back. This situation wasn't looking good. Shouta was deadly when November came. You weren’t sure what this was right now, but you needed to get some control over him before he tried to kill you.

The creature obliged your request. Blood red predatory eyes pierced your own as soon as you had adjusted to the dark. His long black hair lazily defied gravity. He seemed larger, if that was even possible. His deathly pale torso had tendrils jutting out in all different directions, some aimlessly whipping through the air, but most were wrapped snuggly around your body.

Looking further down you realized you weren’t the only person completely naked. His bare hips were pressed flat to the bed between your own as he slowly rutted against the sheets. Due to your restraints you couldn’t really see much else. 

Leaning down he placed his lips on your neck, softly sucking and nipping at your flesh. 

“So beautiful.. so perfect” he whispered. He began to move down your body, soft lips leaving your skin with goosebumps. He paused at your breasts, one of his large hands coming up to play with your right breast while his mouth claimed your left nipple. His tongue made quick work of hardening your sensitive bud. His teeth came out and gently bit down, causing you to whimper.

You couldn’t give into his ministrations, it would only encourage him. “Shouta please, you have to stop! What if you hurt me?” His mouth released from your breast, his lust filled eyes lazily looking up at you as his tongue continued to circle your nipple. With a sigh he pulled away.

“I would never hurt you my precious little human.”

His free hand drew slow circles onto the outside of your thigh. Continuing his journey downwards he licked and nipped your skin until finally settling between your trembling thighs. He wasn't paying your worry any mind as he took his time drinking your body in. He had been such a good mate, had been so patient. Surely you’d understand...

His tongue darted out experimentally, gently lapping at your folds. You bit back a groan as he hummed in satisfaction, face nestling further into your legs for better access as he used his tendrils to move your legs over his shoulder. His stubble was coarse against your inner thighs. More tendrils came out to ensure your breasts were not forgotten. You bit back a moan as they continued where his hand and mouth had left off.

He greedily began to devour you, inhumanly long tongue delving deep inside you as he groaned, sending vibrations through your cunt. Pulling his tongue out he moved up a bit to gently wrap his lips around your clit. With his tendrils covering your body he could feel your every twitch in response to his ministrations. He wanted to make you fall apart beneath him. 

“Sho-ah-Shouta please! Don’t do th-” you were cut off mid sentence. One of his tendrils found their way to your mouth, pushing its way inside your wet cavern and essentially gagging you. You clamped down hard, which only caused the creature on top of you to shudder in ecstasy. He could make them quite sensitive after all. 

You tried to relax, nothing you did seemed to deter him. Maybe not responding would cause him to lose interest? You tried to remain still, until you felt his finger gently prodding at your entrance. You began to squirm with renewed vigor, your pleas muffled by his tendrils. 

“Such an impatient little human. I know what you want but I need to get you ready first or else I might hurt you.”

Slowly he began to pump his finger into your tight hole. His saliva acted as a good starting lubricant, your own juices beginning to aid when that wasn’t enough. Shit, why did he have to be so fucking good at this?! He worked his digit in further and further, your walls clenching down eagerly, until finally he was knuckle deep. 

Continuing to work your sensitive clit with his expert mouth, he pulled his finger out and gently began to add another. Two fingers pushed in, just as excruciatingly slow as the first time. Gentle pumps of his hand worked to allow your small human body to compensate for his larger form. 

You couldn't help but rut your hips forward as your mind began to fog with pleasure. It shouldn't feel this good, he wasn't even doing that much! You needed to stop him, needed to stop reacting to him. 

And yet you found your walls desperately clamping down on his fingers as he slowly drug them out. His methodical pattern continued for awhile until he changed his approach. Expert fingers began to probe with a purpose as he hunted for just the right spot. It didn’t take him long. 

You moaned into his tendrils, back arching as he finally found what he had been looking for. With renewed vigor he used his fingers to attack, while his mouth continued its assault on your bundle of nerves. 

If he continued at this pace you wouldn't last much longer. Your legs trembled, thighs tightening against his head. Your walls began to flutter around his fingers, your mewls and moans were still muffled, but they sent delicious tingles running down his spine. 

No you couldn't you had to stop! But you had no choice. The combination of his devilish mouth and pinpoint accurate fingers were too much. You closed your eyes as your orgasm washed over you. He continued to pump his fingers in and out, but pulled back to watch the bliss wash over your face. 

“Such a good girl, so beautiful,” he cooed as you came undone. Just as he had planned. He pulled his tendril from your mouth and watched as you panted, still trying to gain control of yourself. Unfortunately for you, he wasn't about to let that happen. 

After wiping off his mouth with the back of his hand he leaned up and captured your mouth in his own. You could still taste yourself on his tongue. You had come down from your high after your orgasm and resumed your pathetic struggling, surely he had had his fill? 

His hands planted firmly on your hips as he pulled away from you, lips leaving a small trail of saliva as he loomed over you. He pulled your body up off the bed with his tendrils, maneuvering you so your legs were wrapped around his waist.

“Be a good girl for me and relax, I don’t want this to be painful for you.”

With that he slowly began to move you down until finally you felt the tip of his cock pressing against your outer folds. He had you oddly suspended in his embrace, leaving you no where to retreat to as he rubbed the large head against your wet core. 

All of his focus right now was staring down at where his cock was teasing you. He was inhumanly large, and just dipping the tip in made it obvious enough. This was going to be a tight fit. 

“Shouta please, it won’t fit you’re too big.” His eyes looked up into your own, the fear in them registered somewhere deep within his brain, but the need to stuff you full of his seed overpowered his ability to stop himself. 

He began to push his length inside, even more slowly than his fingers. He owed you this bare minimum level of self control, the idea of hurting you keeping him in check.

You whimpered as he continued, there was no reaching him. You’d be better following his advice and trying to relax to accommodate his sheer girth. But fuck did it sting. The methodical pumping of his hips pushing his monstrous cock deeper and deeper. 

One of his hands opted to leave your hip in order to begin softly circling your puffy clit. It helped to soothe the burn of your stretching walls, slick beginning to build as your body attempted to help you. After what felt like an eternity he finally bottomed out inside you. 

“Shit you’re so fucking tight, you feel so good.”

He remained there for a moment, sweat rolling down his body as he tried to control himself. Just then your tight little cunt experimentally squeezed against him and his restraint shattered. 

He began to pull out, groaning above your head. He got about halfway out before pushing back in. This continued, each outward drag was met with a faster and more desperate thrust back in. At first it had stung, tears pricking your eyes as your bit your lip to keep from whining. You had never felt so full before. 

But as you grew accustomed to his size something hot began to stir in your abdomen. You were enjoying it. The more you relaxed into him the more pleasure you began to feel. Until finally, you were back to where you had been when he had worked you into your first orgasm. 

Your brain was too clouded with pleasure to bother holding back noises of satisfaction, and the heat in your gut only grew when Shouta moaned and huffed in your ear. His deep rumbles poured over you and soon he had abandoned his slow pace in favor of a much faster one. 

His long cock would pull all the way out before slamming back in, a rogue tendril had replaced his hand to work on your clit while his newly freed hands greedily grabbed at you. 

Finally one hand decided on grasping your hair, pulling your head back so he could slam his mouth against yours in a sloppy kiss. His tendrils allowed for your body to bounce against his as he pistoned his hips into you. 

His tongue was in your mouth as he swallowed your moans. His appendage fought with yours for dominance before exploring everything it could reach. This was all too much, you were getting close again. 

You could feel your walls beginning to flutter at your impending climax, and Shouta could feel it too. He increased his pace, hips stuttering as he began to try and reach his own release. He pulled away from your kiss and removed you from his tendrils, firmly planting you back on the mattress. His free hands intertwining his fingers with your own above your head as he continued to rock into you. 

He kept his tendrils on your legs in order to keep them wrapped around his waist, groaning as he felt you reach for orgasm first. You head was thrown back, mouth open in a silent o as you finished for the second time that night. The feeling of cumming on his cock was beyond imaginable and your body shuddered beneath him. 

You were perfect, overwhelming all of his senses in ecstasy as your tight cunt clamped down on him. He couldn't hold out any longer. His hips stilled as you began to milk his cock, hot thick ropes of cum painting your insides. You were too tired to protest, your small body slumped below him as you took his seed like the good little mate you were. 

A wave of exhaustion began to cloud his mind as he came down from his high. Slowly he began to pull out, heart clenching as you whimpered. You were too damn cute. 

Before any of his seed could spill out he used a tendril to plug your hole. Rolling over to your side he maneuvered you so your head was tucked under his own, his arm pressing you into his chest. 

“You did such a good job, if we keep this up you could take my seed before the month is up.” He planted a kiss against your forehead. You grumbled incoherently in response, too exhausted to process the implications of what he had just said. 

November, the month when he went feral, was the month he was feral for his mate. Desperate to fuck his seed into his one and only. All others were obstacles in his way that didn't deserve to live. November 1st had only just begun. You were in for a long month. 

#yandere shouta aizawa #yandere aizawa #aizawa x reader #aizawa x you #scp academia #yandere x reader #aizawa shouta x reader #bnha aizawa

[penajavier]

though you are no god -  Frankie Morales x f!reader

This idea had been brewing for a while and hanging out in my drafts for a longer while, but I’ve finally found the inspiration to clean it up and share it! I am clearly a beginner at this and feedback/critique is always welcome. 

Title: though you are no god (credit)

Pairing: Francisco Morales x f!reader. One use of the word “girl”.

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 3.3k

Content/warnings: brief mentions of nightmares and trauma recovery, angst, smut, still somehow the sappiest shit I’ve ever written. frankie likes to be praised. strictly 18+

ao3

••••••••

The first time you get to witness Francisco Morales fall to his knees in front of you, you almost don't remember it happening.  

His mouth presses hot and wet and urgent against your skin where he is bunching up your shirt to expose it. You are nearly as drunk as him, blindly pulling it off and throwing it somewhere behind him. The wall behind you is cool but does absolutely fuck-all to clear your head because oh god his hands are big and warm and his tongue is incessant and oh god this is Frankie, your goofy, kind, awkward, hot as fuck friend-of-a-friend. He pulls you forward a fraction just to tug on your pants and underwear, letting them gather around your feet without giving you the leg room to step out of them. He lifts your left leg over his shoulder with ease, and then his hands are bracing him against you and his tongue is working as if it has a mind of its own, circling your clit and sliding up your lips and you don't remember his fingers being that thick but somehow they are and you are close to going insane. 

Maybe tomorrow you'll wonder how you ended up here, in a hallway in his apartment where he barely bothered to turn the lights on before pressing himself into you, effectively shutting off any sane connection you might have still retained to the world after however-many drinks you two had got in you. The night was supposed to be about Santi, you vaguely recall, but right now you honest to god cannot even remember what promotion he got that you were supposed to be celebrating. You might have made a mental note to apologize to him for leaving his party early, but Frankie adds another finger to your wet cunt and moans like it's pleasuring him more than you, and it's a real effort not to kick him in the chest or collapse on him then and there.  

The fucker laughs as if he knows exactly what he's doing to you, and somehow increases his efforts to a degree you hadn't thought possible. It doesn't take much after that for you to feel that knot tightening in your belly, the electricity of it making your limbs shake. Only when he’s satisfied making you cum thoroughly on his tongue and his hand does he stand up, and for the first time since you got here, he speaks. "Hi," he says, the loopiest grin on his face, before leaning forward to kiss you without waiting for you to answer.  

Your last remaining brain cell thinks to itself, this is going to be one hell of a night. 

•••• 

The second time Frankie Morales falls to his knees in front of you, you can barely bring yourself to look at him. 

It's been weeks (months?) since he practically fell off the grid, following your childhood best friend and designated bad-idea-haver Santiago Garcia into the guts of South America. You had reached the point where a part of you was bracing itself for the worst kind of news, of never getting to see your boys again or hell, not even knowing what the fuck happened to them down there. The rest of you was still holding on to your anger in a misplaced effort to stay hopeful, refusing to let you feel anything other than the need to wring their necks as soon as one of them walked back in the door. And that was it, the majority of your days spent getting on edge every time your phone rang or you felt you saw a familiar set of messy curls pass you by on the street, until you walked home one day to find him standing outside your door, hand poised to knock but hesitant. 

"What the fuck?" the words escape you before you can help it, and he nearly jumps out of his skin. When he turns to look at you coming up behind him, you almost stop in shock at how absolutely shit he looks. "What the fuck?" you say again, seeming to have lost all your vocabulary at the sight of this stupid infuriating beautiful man finally standing in front of you in one piece, messy curls and all.  

An eternity passes with the two of you simply staring at each other, your grocery bags forgotten in your hands and his fingers twitching in an effort to keep them to himself. The smell of fresh bread wafting from your grocery bag does little to alleviate any tension, and the silence is almost painful. You want to do something, say something of all the rage and hurt you've nursed in you at being left alone. How dare you, you want to bark at him, want to hold him by the collar and smack him or kiss his face raw. 

You must take too long in your own head because he carefully extends a hand toward you, but you are so over-stimulated at the mere sight of him that you flinch.  

That's what breaks him, you realize later when the storms have passed and the proverbial rivers have calmed. Not the pain and loss and grief of the mission - things he'll whisper into your chest when you let him - and not the physical battering he must have taken through it all. What breaks him is you flinching away from him, as if you'd forgotten who he was. It’s only me, it's your Frankie, he wants to scream; wants to gather you in his arms and breathe into your ribs. But all he can do is fall to the ground and plead with his eyes.

I'm sorry, mi alma he seems to be saying, and the sight of this glorious man breaking down in front of your doorstep makes you ache in the depths of your bones. You rush forward, all your anger evaporating away from you in the instant it takes to wrap your arms around him and let him rest his head on your stomach. The position is awkward at best. His touch feels almost alien and his hair doesn't smell like you're used to, but you let him cry, let him ruin the clothes you hadn’t given much thought to anyway, and it doesn't occur to either of you that the shirt is one of his that he'd left at your place. 

You choke back the ocean rising in your throat, not knowing how to navigate everything you're feeling at the same time. Will we ever be okay? you wonder, your entire body feeling numb as he holds you just the tiniest bit more tightly.  

You don't know then if you'll ever forgive him, and he doesn't know if he'll ever be the same man again, but right there in that moment none of it matters. What matters is that he is here, and you are holding him like you'd wished and prayed for in all those lonely nights. Maybe you'll never be okay like you used to be, but you have him for now, and you're too exhausted to think beyond that. 

•••• 

The third time, it's fucking magical. 

You and your Frankie have finally settled into a somewhat stable routine. After he left you with the promise to get his shit together, he made good on his word. It seemed as if the mission that must not be named put things into perspective for him - and for you, for that matter - and the two of you decided to give up on the delicate dance you kept orchestrating around each other. You had realized that you needed him much more than you could ever resent him for leaving, and he had realized he never wanted to feel the paralysing fear of thinking he'd never make it back to you again. You two had decided to sit down like adults and talk about it, and Frankie’s regular visits to his therapist had certainly helped. 

Now, in the early morning light in your shared bedroom, he looks the very picture of calm. The birds chirp softly outside the window, blending in with the music of the traffic that you two have begrudgingly come to love. The nightmares haven't left him completely, but they're less frequent and far less incapacitating for him. You feel a rush of pride for how far he's come, how much effort he put into building himself back up piece by piece after being shattered to his bare bones. You’ve seen him curl into you out of fear and into himself during the moments of self loathing when he feels he doesn't deserve your kindness, but now he sleeps with his head tilted slightly upward, exposing the beautiful planes of his neck to you. He is beautiful, you've known it for as long as you've known him, but something about the soft sunlight turning his curls golden and the way you can tell he's truly at peace in this moment, brings tears to your eyes and makes your throat clench. 

You lean up on your elbow and touch his face. His skin is soft, and he smells faintly of your body wash. Thief, you think fondly, brushing his unruly hair away from his forehead. he had stopped cutting it as frequently as he used to because he noticed you liked running your hands through it, and you realize with a jolt that that had been years ago, long before you two had any conversation about the future, even before he had his world turned upside down in the depths of an unnamed jungle. That is when you realize that Francisco Morales told you he loved you long before you had the sense to understand it, and this time you do cry. 

He stirs in his sleep. You briefly worry that you woke him, but he simply turns his head and nuzzles into the crook of your neck, breathing deeply at your shoulder before falling back asleep. The feeling of his soft breaths against your skin makes you smile, and you feel yourself falling more in love with every one of them. 

He wakes you up hours later with gentle kisses and the promise of pancakes, making you giggle with the way his moustache tickles your chin. When you find him in the kitchen later he seems more chipper than usual, smelling like a bakery and humming softly while setting the table for two. He greets you with a sweet kiss and pulls out your chair for you before sitting down in his own. 

“To what do I owe this pleasure?” you ask playfully, and he smiles wide behind his glasses that you’d finally convinced him he needed. Beautiful man, you can't help but think. 

"Just wanted to do something nice for my girl," he answers with his mouth full and you flick a berry at him, which he expertly catches. "Oh so that's how it's gonna be," he puts down his fork and you start to run away, but he is far too quick. He catches you by your waist and pulls you into his chest, licking your cheek obscenely.  

"Frankie, you dog!" you giggle, still fighting his grip.  

"Dogs are cute," he shrugs, seemingly unfazed against you using all your force. He is gentle as anything with you, but he sure likes to show off his strength every once in a while. He lifts you effortlessly off the floor and sets you on the counter. "You think I'm cute?" he wiggles his eyebrows. 

You almost playfully call him insufferable on autopilot, the way you've always bantered since you've known him. But you're aware now how he relies on verbal affirmations, and you've been making a conscious effort of supplying them whenever you can. So instead you hold his face in your palms and tell him that you think he's the most wonderful man in the world, and that you love him more than anything.  

"Baby," he drops his head to your shoulder and sighs. You do this to him, making his heart swell and threaten to burst out of his ribs. He doesn't have the words, doesn't know how to tell you he feels like the luckiest man in the world every morning when he wakes up next to you, every time he hears your voice or feels your palm in his. He doesn't know how to tell you you've been his anchor and his best friend, or how he can't believe he gets to have this kind of domestic bliss at all. "Baby," he repeats, "I love you." 

You try to deepen the kiss he initiates, but he pulls back and tells you he has plans for the day, telling you to get dressed for something outdoors. You feel a rush of happiness at the thought of him feeling more and more like himself with every day that passes, picking up old habits and finding joy in them. You kiss his cheek and run off to get dressed, beyond excited to see what he had planned. 

The ride to the field is longer than you expected. Frankie has turned the radio on and it plays softly in the background as you two talk occasionally. It’s a calm morning, with the perfect weather that's neither too cold nor too warm. He lifts your hand to his lips and kisses it softly once he's parked, and then he hops out and opens your door for you. 

"Such a gentleman," you tease. 

"Yeah," is all he says before he's kissing you breathless against the truck. It takes you by surprise, but it's far from unwelcome. 

Your hands come to rest on his shoulders, and you can tell it takes a special amount of effort for him to pull away from you, his hands still holding you close as he pulls on yours and leads you deeper into the field. The grass is high enough to tickle your ankles, and the whisper of it against your skin feels wonderful. He slows down, the pace leisurely enough for you to appreciate the wildflowers growing around you. He’s careful not to step on any, and you're struck once again by the multitudes that exist within this one man. The same man who has confessed to sins you could never have thought him capable of, now so careful with a thing as gentle as a dandelion. You think about his hand that is so gentle in yours, and the memory of it firmly wrapping around your throat as he does unspeakable things to you makes you blush, and you will yourself to come back to the present.  

Frankie has led you to a tree, and you notice a tree house resting on the sturdier branches. It’s new, you realize, and look at him quizzically. 

"Remember how I was supposed to pick up new hobbies?" he says sheepishly, gently leading you around to the other side where you see wooden footrests leading up. He urges you to climb up, and you are still so surprised that you can only obey. 

"I thought you'd like this," he's saying. "It can be our secret place, we come here whenever we want. Not that we don't already have a home and privacy but I thought this could be nice to have. Like a little getaway close to home." He's rambling now, as you notice all the fine details he has paid attention to in the construction of it. 

"Honey? Do you like it?" he asks when you've been too quiet. 

"Do I like it?" you ask incredulously. "Francisco Morales, this is amazing!" 

He immediately breaks into a wide grin, and you can see that he is proud of himself. He looks almost like an eager child, and you love the way his eyes shine in that moment. 

"There's one more thing," he leads you to a small opening in the wall that serves as a window. You can see the clear sky and the field stretching out under you, and the cool breeze feels like a gentle caress. It's a beautiful view, and you lose yourself in the sights and smells for a moment. 

"So am I looking at something specific?" you ask, wondering what it was he wanted to show you.  

He doesn't answer, though, and you turn around to repeat the question. The sight that meets you nearly knocks you off your feet, and you cover your gasp with your hand. 

Frankie is on one knee, hat resting by his feet and hand extended, holding the most gorgeous ring you have ever laid eyes on. You might be biased, but you couldn't care less. 

"Darling, I-" he starts, but you don't have the self control that he apparently does, and you throw your arms around him. 

He wraps tightly around you, only letting you have enough room to look up and kiss him. And god do you kiss him. You kiss him like he has never been kissed before, like you could pour every ounce of affection you have for him into that one moment, needing him as close to you as possible. 

You don't realise you're crying until he kisses the tears off your cheeks, and then he lifts your hand and slides the ring on. 

•••• 

The fourth time comes that night, after you've spent your day in the field, holding on to each other and bursting with mutual joy. 

He sits you down on the bed, and kneels in front of you, kissing your shoulders gently. "Hey, Mrs. Morales," he smiles as he says it, even as he's biting the soft skin at your clavicle. 

You laugh, telling him that’s not how engagement rings work. He only grins against your skin and bites harder. 

You scratch his head and he purrs, lifting his head briefly to give you a sweet kiss before he's pushing you to lie down. Let me take care of you, honey, he whispers. Then his hands are on your waist and his mouth is on your chest, making you writhe in place. He kisses and sucks and bites, making sure to give every part of you equal attention. So beautiful, he's talking almost to himself as he leaves a wet trail of kisses down to your tummy.  

His hands meanwhile touch and grab and smooth over any part they can reach, moving as if of their own volition. He knows your body so well that he can map it with his eyes closed, can recognize it with his last breaths. He reaches your cunt and pulls you closer, closer, inhaling deeply and groaning like he's hardly staying in control. 

With the same patience he had displayed earlier in the day he teases you mercilessly, kissing around where you need him most. You pull on his hair and he tuts and bites your thigh. What did I say, baby - a flick of his tongue against you - let me take care of you. You whine petulantly, and he tells you to be a good girl for him. He even says please, the asshole. 

The first lick against your clit comes at the same time as his finger pushes into you, and it takes everything you have not to lift off the bed. So wet for me, he moans against you, the vibration making your pleasure amplify. You fist the sheets around you, telling him how fucking good he's making you feel, how good he always makes you feel. The praise fuels him on and he pushes two more fingers into you at the same time. 

You are so full and so stimulated with his tongue incessant against your clit, and he has no plans of letting up. You feel your orgasm hit you quick and hard, and you can barely warn him before you're gushing, soaking his face and trying to pull away from the overstimulation. 

He looks up at you, grinning like the Cheshire cat. He licks you clean until you're begging him to stop, and then he patiently kisses his way back up your body. 

"That was... that was amazing," you're out of breath as you say it, wrapping your arms around him and pulling him in to taste yourself. 

"Oh honey," he coos. "I've barely started." 

•••

fin.

Tagging some lovely mutuals whom I love and who are amazing writers: @disgruntledspacedad @pedropascaldice @frannyzooey. Please let me know if you don’t want to be tagged in the future (if there is a future) ❤️

#triple frontier fic #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales smut #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #not rpf #yes im on hiatus yes i wrote a fic #we exist #and did i mention i've never seen the movie 🙂

[lovextriangle]

Imagine Thorin before The Unexpected Journey

a/n: early release draft, I’ll probably edit more later!

You were never one to fall for the brooding type, but there was no stopping for the inevitable.

The dwarves showed up out of nowhere. They were passing through Gondor on their way to Dunland where Thror, Thrain, and Thorin had decided that place was their best option. Many of their following had dwindled, most headed for the Blue Mountains or the Iron Hills. Dunland was a place of no importance, it was just a place for them to seek refuge. They had no plans of staying there, for the true goal was to take back their home, Erebor. Though a plan like that already had people grimacing for the bloodshed was still fresh and the loss was many. How could they overcome a beast that had defeated them so easily on their own home front.

They needed allies, they needed help, not from men, and definitely not from the elves, but from their own people, dwarves assisting other dwarves. That is what Thorin thought anyways. But with supplies running low and spirits at an all time downward spiral, they would have to start from the ground up.

About a month after the traveling dwarves had passed through Gondor and finally settled into the neighboring Dunland, Thorin seeked out work. The big city was the best place to look for it, though no one cared about the tragedies a person had been through, if you had no talent or skill, you wouldn’t find a job. Luckily dwarves were brimming with skills and their expertise was known for crafting weapons. The grandson of the King Under the Mountain, became a blacksmith of Gondor for the sake of putting food on the table. He had a perpetual frown on his face as if it was engraved there permanently.

He had all the reason to be, rumors spread fast in Gondor of what had happened to the dwarves and the almighty Smuag, the terror of their lifetime. Everyone was afraid of what the dragon would do next. Most thought that the dwarves would bring it with them somehow, as if they carried bad luck. So Thorin was well aware of how much the people of Gondor didn’t want him there. He wasn’t wanted anywhere. But the skills he possessed as a smith kept his employer from kicking him to the curb like others had done before.

“Another fine piece of weaponry Thorin. The next order is a pair of long swords,” grunted Izec the chief blacksmith of the establishment that Thorin worked for. Sweat ran down Thorin’s forehead as he leaned back to stretch out from the hammering position he had been in. His back ached, he had been finishing up the fine details of his last assignment, the entirety had taken three days, the last five hours he had just completed. He was tired and in need of a break. But Thorin liked pushing himself past that point nowadays. He didn’t really care much about his body at all, he was angry all the time, and it felt good to hammer down something that would bend to his will. If only other things in his life went that way…

“Take a lunch and be back before long, ya hear?”

Thorin only gave a nod as he wiped the sweat from his hands onto his pants as he took his leave from the shop. It was midday in Gondor and people were everywhere. The weather was hot and stuffy, no summer time breeze in the air, Thorin guessed it was just his luck. He had eaten at a couple of stands in the past, the food men served were at least better than elves but it was nothing like home. Weaving through the crowds, he ignored the glances he got, it wasn’t exactly rare to see a dwarf in Gondor but this was definitely the birthplace of men.

He hadn’t been to this particular meal stand before, he was complacent enough to try it since the others hadn’t left a lasting impression for him to seek them out. He just wanted a good, quick meal to regain his strength and head back to work.

“What’ll it be?” Thorin had to take a slight step back to take in the whole menu. “Roast will do.” His response was a curt reply, quick and ready to move on. “7 shillings,” you matched his reply, not really wanting to drag out the conversation either. This was only business after all. Out came a pouch from one of his pockets as he gathered the correct amount. You hadn’t exactly been looking directly into his eyes, just glancing over everything else about him.

He was dirty, a hard working dwarf. Long dark hair, that was thick but not matted. He took care of himself or at least his hair. His cheeks had what looked like dirt or maybe ash from a fire. Dwarves were usually blacksmiths around here so you took an educated guess. “You work with Izec?” you hadn’t intended to ask out loud but it seemed you couldn’t help yourself. There was a reason for asking after all.

Thorin met your gaze, ice cold irises told you one thing. That he wanted his meal and to be left alone. “Yes.” The one word reply, a clear warning to not ask anymore questions. “I’ve placed an order for a piece of metal myself..” it was a low response from you as you had gauged his reaction. He didn’t seem curious or to care about the details of what you had ordered at Izec’s. With that you gave him his meal and he gave you the shillings.

“Thanks.” He was gone, not stopping at any of the nearby tables set up to sit and eat. You watched as he parted ways, and wondered if he would come to your stand another day. Such cold eyes, you had the feeling he wouldn’t. Lunch hour was busy, and more customers took up your thoughts and as soon as the dwarf had came he disappeared from your mind.

A week passed before Thorin decided he had a particular craving. He had thoroughly enjoyed the roast from last time, and had wanted to stop by again. He had lasted a week only because he did not wish to be remembered, he simply wanted the good food and nothing more. Chitchat could wait until after he had reclaimed Erebor. But Thorin found that you simply couldn’t just hand him over the meal without at least one question being asked.

“How’s work?”

“What’s it like being a smith?”

“What do you think of Gondor?”

“You must really like roast, would you like to try our roasted chicken?”

No matter the angry stares or the frustrated sighs, Thorin would respond begrudgingly to each question. He liked the chicken now too, and from the four more times he had stopped by (on different days of course) it was quite apparent that this was his favorite food stand now. Because of the appetizing meals. Not because of your curious brown gaze. Our the sprinkle of freckles that were cast across your face. You had steady hands too, careful in passing and gentle in receiving. The few times your fingers had touched when he had exchanged his money had given him surprising chills. Your touch was quite cold and felt foreign from his hot temperatures.

It was getting a little easier to talk with one another. But Thorin didn’t make it to where it was ever a fluent conversation. He was only here for one thing after all. “Do you eat at Izec’s?” You decided to use up your one question on that this time. If you had counted right this would be your fifteen encounter and you still hadn’t caught his name, they just had so many other interesting things to know first, but you were getting pretty curious about that particular piece of info.

“Yes.” Thorin nodded, and the exchanged of meal for money transpired. You decided you weren’t satisfied, “Well isn’t it a bit stuffy to eat in there?” Thorin had taken one step away, “Sometimes” he agreed, not very happy that this was turning into more than the one usual question. “Well you could eat by the stand.. I give out complementary bread to my customers who do.” This was a lie, but maybe some enticing fresh bread would make him stay a little longer. “Maybe next time…” He wasn’t buying it, or maybe he wasn’t that hungry, or maybe he didn’t want to answer anymore questions. Whatever the reason, he was gone before you could talk him into it further.

Your sigh was obvious as it was loud.

“Maybe he’s just not into ya”

Your eyes immediately rolled, “Can it Howser.” The neighboring stand was a flower seller. He sold beautiful orchids when in season. But he was terribly nosy. “Well I’m just sayin, he’s only ever given you one-worded responses. Can’t get much dryer than that!” He laughed to himself at your misery. It was true you were getting nowhere in the sense of progress. Progress in what exactly? You weren’t entirely sure, maybe you could admit you had a crush on the recluse dwarf. “Any ideas then? I’ve tried to point out at least my interest,” you glumly stated, not wanting this to turn into some laughing stock at your failures.

“How about giving up?” Howser laughed, and the laughingstock it was. You glared at him as he tried to choke back his giggling. “Thanks.” You answered sarcastically and stopped paying attention to him, to which he tried to offer real advice but was left to be ignored.

Maybe giving up would become an option if the dwarf never came back. But he did come back, and it no longer took a week in between his visits. It was more frequent which had him occupying your thoughts more than the usual. The only thing that didn’t change was how uninterested he seemed in you. Which had Howser teasing you as soon as the dwarf departed. The game of chase felt like forever until that one fateful day.

It was a Tuesday afternoon, the sun taking its course to the west. It was unusual for the dwarf to come so late and even more unusual for him to be carrying a package. “What’s th-“ Your words were cut off with the thud of the item being placed on your counter. “Your order.” Thorin replied, already knowing the answer to the unfinished question. Izec was well acquainted with most in Gondor, which made him a good businessman. But once Thorin had told him about your stand and how good the food was, it was now tasked to him to deliver the finished product.

“Thank you for bringing them, you didn’t have to,” Thorin didn’t say anything as he had been told to do so it wasn’t like he was doing you a favor. With the silence, you decided to tear the parcel excited to see the results. Two beautifully slender long swords were revealed to you. Your breath was sucked in as you saw the fine lines and detailed swirls,

“Is it to your liking?”

This was the first question, he had ever asked to you. Just that had your heart rate accelerating. You assumed he had not only brought it to you, but had been the one to create such refinery. “It is, absolutely.” You beamed and he nodded, “To what name can I thank for such hard work?” You figured now was as good as anytime to finally ask the burning question. He was a mystery man, a stranger with no name, and you couldn’t continue to go on like such.

“Thorin.” He answered and had thought to himself that you had already known since most in Gondor knew from the rumors. “Thank you Thorin, I will treasure them.” He was never one for smiles, but somehow you knew he was at least proud of his work, and satisfied in knowing that you would be the one the wield them. You were positively optimistic in thinking that things would only get better with the two of you from here as he walked away. You let him go with no questions trailing him. With his back turned he held up his hand in departure, you couldn’t hold back your grin.

“Until next time,”

#the hobbit #jrr tolkien #there and back again #dwarves #dwarf #thorin imagine #thorin x you #thorin fic #thorin oakenshield #erebor #hobbit fanfiction #fan fic #imagine

[cursestothemoon]

I Won’t Say I’m In Love

iii.

Fred Weasley x Fem!Slytherin!Reader

Warnings: forced intimacy, suggestive themes, strong language, fighting (verbal and physical), Adrian being a sleazy jerk, Adrian speaking of nonconsensual acts (nothing graphic or intense)

Summary: Fred overhears Adrian and suddenly everything is different, now he needs to go talk to Y/n one last time.

Word Count: 4253

MASTERLIST

SERIES MASTERLIST

Patroclus fought with the form and art of Achilles. He wore his helmet and bore his shield, he took long strides to embody the aura of the hero.

But Patroclus was not Achilles.

It was his hubris, his poisonous pride that drove the knife of the enemy through his gut.

And as Patroclus lay dying, his pride trickling out of his fatal wound, he thought of Achilles and he thought of love and war and hubris, and how it was a sick twist bestowed upon the mortals from the gods that all three would be intertwined with an unbreakable bind.

It was in a similar fashion to Patroclus that Fred now lay in the midst of a battlefield deserted, his pride slowly seeping out of his fatal wounds. Only Fred hadn’t been struck down by an enemy. No, Fred had attained his wounds from himself, his pride playing the parts of enemy, sword, and blood in his battle.

The fight was explosive, and Fred was feeling the aftershocks of it all as he remained where he had been for the last ten minutes. Ten minutes since she walked away from him. Ten minutes since he bared his teeth and snarled, a rabid dog taking over his judgment.

Regret is not a big enough word, not strong enough nor capable of expressing the sharp, shredding feeling that Fred felt inside. And as he took a step, the fight played out before him as a scene in front of a director, he had to stop himself from doubling over and being sick.

How could he?

Why would he?

Did he really have such little control that he seemingly blacked out completely and let his jealous rage take over?

With blinding speed Fred moved for the first time in now twenty minutes. He took quick steps toward the tree that he could still see her figure leaning against if he tried hard enough, and hit the bark with a hard punch. He wasn’t sure if the echoing crack was from the tree or his hand but nevertheless he reeled his fist back and layed another blow onto the innocent tree. Two became three, then four, then five soon enough every hit melded into one frenzy of rage and guilt and regret, leaving his knuckles torn, bloodied, and bruised while his chest began to heave.

Fred pulled his fist back again, but instead of a powerful blow it jutted with a stutter before he placed it on the bark to steady himself, his head falling forward making the roughness of the tree hit his forehead as he took in deep breaths. Shoulders slumped and eyes screwed shut, anger faded along with jealousy, leaving behind only his painful regret.

He gathered himself before trudging to meet George on the quidditch pitch, his sullen demeanor, unnaturally pale face, and lacerated knuckles letting the younger twin know that there was no confession of love or making amends between the two.

“Freddie…”

***

Y/n dried her tears and held her head up high as she walked back into the castle, Lily waiting for her by the entrance. She had seen the fight, Y/n knew it too, but neither of them mentioned it as they made their way deeper into the castle and to their dorm. They had made a plan to get butterbeers and Y/n would be damned if she let some fight with a boy get in the way of her enjoying her time with her best friend.

Quidditch practice, on the other hand, was disastrous.

Slytherin and Gryffindor had been scheduled to share the pitch for practice today, a plan made by the two heads of houses who didn’t want to deal with the captains fighting over the pitch again.

Tensions were high on the field as Adrian took it upon himself to make his presence known to Fred at any chance given. The aforementioned Gryffindor was quick to slug bludgers in his direction with a force fueled by hatred.

Angelina and Marcus called practice twenty minutes early, both of them having enough sense to know that someone was going to get hurt soon if the two boys weren’t separated- Marcus needed more persuading but begrudgingly agreed.

“Oi! Weasley!”

Both Fred and George turned to Angelina, the latter with a lighter energy.

“Fred, I don’t know what’s going on with you today but next practice I need your head in the game.”

Fred nodded passively before turning on his heels and walking to the locker rooms. George gave Angelina an apologetic shrug before following after his brother.

To get to the Gryffindor locker rooms it was necessary to pass by the Slytherin locker rooms, an unfortunate layout choice by whoever was responsible for the placement. Fred flexed his hand, fists opening and closing, as he walked past the open door. His eyes darkened with an emotion so strong it bled down to his reddening cheeks. George, the twin known for his more empathetic tendencies, could feel the anger sizzle in the air as Adrian’s voice sounded from inside the locker room.

“-you know I always get what I want in the end.” He chuckled, in conversation with someone.

Fred thought to keep walking, to ignore the conversation and move on from it all, even George was adamant on trying to nudge his brother to keep walking, but something kept him standing there with Fred, just hidden from the open doorway.

“Fred come on mate, it’s just going to rile you up.” George tried to reason with his twin in a harsh whisper.

The boy instead brought a finger up to his lips telling his brother to keep quiet as he tried to listen. This resulted in an eye roll from George, knowing there was no changing Fred’s mind once he was stuck on something.

“Is she any good?” The voice belonged to Marcus Flint.

In the locker room Adrian was leaning against his locker talking to Marcus about Y/n and how everything seemed to be falling into place for him.

Adrian gave a shrug as he thought about the question seriously for a moment before a grin split his face making Marcus chuckle.

“When she isn’t fighting it, yeah Y/n’s good. Ever since she had the falling out with the weasel she’s been a lot… easier to deal with.”

Marcus furrowed his brows, “How’d you mean?”

“Before she used to fight me. Push me away, get mad, yell. But after the whole thing with him she just doesn’t care to fight anymore. I should thank him, just today I had seen him walking in our direction so I made sure to give him a good show.”

“And you’re sure Weasley saw?”

Adrian nodded with a proud smile, “Oh yeah, he definitely saw us. They had a nasty fight too, I imagine it won’t be too long until I can get her alone so I can get her knickers off like old times. After that fight I doubt she’d have enough energy to really try to fight me off. I mean she can only say no so many times.”

Marcus had gone silent, offering his friend a curt nod trying not to show his discomfort for how far Adrian was willing to go.

Just on the other side of the entrance Fred was seeing red.

“I’ll kill him.” He seethed to an equally enraged George, who was glad he didn’t force Fred to leave.

With impeccable timing Adrian walked out of the door, now in front of the twins.

“Pucey.” George called, but Fred wasn’t one for words at the moment.

No, instead he took two long strides toward the sleazy Slytherin before throwing his fist into his face. The force caused Adrian to stumble back a few steps and fall into a kneeling position before he reached for his wand that had been placed in the waistband of his trousers. Fred was quicker, fortunately, and knocked it out of his hand.

“Come on, fight me like an honorable wizard, Weasley.” Adrian sneered getting up to his feet.

Fred, who had left his wand in his locker, shook his head, “Won’t be needing a wand to turn your face inside out, Pucey.”

That was the last statement before he lunged into Adrian a fight ensuing. George stood back cheering on his brother, who clearly had the advantage, only stopping to put a warning hand on Marcus Flint’s chest- he looked as though he was going to go to his friend's aid.

Fred was relentless with his hits, slugging him over and over again. He was blind with rage, arms detailed with ever present viens and the slightest of blood splatter from Adrian’s nose and mouth. The aforementioned boy was trying his best to block Fred’s painful jab’s to any point of his body that could be reached.

“Go.” George spat with venom in a slow drawl, his tone was intimidating. Intimidating and threatening enough to get Marcus to, reluctantly, walk away.

He was like a man possessed, the more Adrian bled the more he wanted to keep going. Fred was adamant on beating his anger into Adrian, his anger with the Slytherin and with himself.. It was happening right in front of him, Y/n was being used right in front of him and he couldn’t see it. He let his insecurities get the better of him and now he was rolling around in the mud with Adrian Pucey who had just landed a single punch to Fred’s jaw making it ache. His bruising jaw was the least of his worries however and grabbed Adrian by the collar of his shirt, lifting him a few inches off the ground before slamming him down again. He repeated this action until it seemed Adrian was slipping in and out of consciousness and his own nail beds were begging for respite from how tightly he was gripping the fabric.

Fred threw him down one last time before standing up over his bloodied body, George coming to his side and putting a hand on his shoulder.

“You did it, Fred. He’s learned his lesson.”

He got a nod in response and he dropped his hand slowly as his eyes shifted to the groaning boy on the floor. George would’ve joined in beating the boy to a pulp, he was itching to really, but he knew this was something Fred needed to do himself.

The older twin curled his lip in a snarl as he crouched down again, his elbows resting on his bent knees as he spoke.

“Talk like that, do those things again to anyone…” Fred brought a hand to grab Adrian’s jaw and turn his face as he gave his work an appraising once over. “And I’ll kill you.”

He gave his face a harsh shove in the opposite direction making the boy wince before he straightened up and started walking away from the scene, away from the locker rooms.

George furrowed his brow before calling out, “Where are you off to?”

“To find her.”

***

Y/n and Lily were on their way back from Hogsmeade, the thick sweetness of butterbeer still coating their tongues. The fight wasn’t mentioned, not without an attempt from Lily, but it was evident with the way Y/n shutdown, her words coming out jumbled, and fingers wringing together that she did not want to talk about it.

The walk back was filled with light conversation until Lily got annoyed with how her friend was behaving.

“You know your whole act is making me sick.” She stated, her tone neutral.

Y/n was taken aback for a moment trying to figure what happened, “Lil-”

“And when I’m not sick, I’m tired. I am sick and tired of this back and forth game. You didn’t want to talk earlier, that’s fine it was still fresh. But you can’t keep bottling it up like this, you’ll kill yourself.”

The only response she got was a sigh before Y/n started to talk just barely above a whisper.

“He’s just like everyone else, Lily. He believes everything people say about me.” She sniffled but continued to speak, “If I had known that Adrian would… do what he did, say what he did, I never would’ve lost my virginity to him but rumors start and I can’t stop that.”

Lily seemed to be in thought before speaking, “I’m sorry I didn’t notice earlier, didn't do anything. I won’t leave you alone with him, ever, I promise.”

“Thank you.” Her voice was quiet and barely heard above the crunch of gravel under their feet.

“And Fred? How do you feel about him?”

Y/n shrugged, collecting herself before she spoke, “It’s over. I’ll get over it. You’d think a person’s feelings would fade after such a...conversation.”

Her friend nodded, “You still love him.”

It wasn’t a question, Lily didn’t ask, she told her. Stated it as common knowledge and Y/n was tired of denying her feelings. Tired of pretending not to care and tired of holding so much in.

“Why?” Her voice was broken as she asked Lily with a hopeless voice, tears starting to freely fall down her face.

“Oh, Y/n…”

The Slytherin embraced her crying friend, more than willing to offer her much needed comfort. She knew it was difficult for Y/n to be this open with her feelings, her tears dampening the crook of Lily’s neck was not a familiar feeling.

“It hurts. I don’t want to have these feelings anymore.”

Lily felt her own eyes well with tears, “Maybe your heart knows something you don't, that’s why it won’t let you let go.”

“Well I wish it would stop hiding things from me.” Y/n laughed as she pulled away from the hug, wiping her face.

The girl agreed with a soft giggle before linking their arms and continuing their walk back to the castle, a comfortable silence falling over them.

Fred was pacing the main entrance of the castle, just in front of the Great Hall, no doubt leaving dirty footprints on the otherwise clean stone floor. He was still in his quidditch uniform, hair tousled from the wind, fists bloody, and dirt from rolling around on the ground was up to his mid thigh.

The echo of footsteps made his head snap up, his breath hitched as he saw Y/n and Lily walking back into the castle together. The dried tears and puffy eyes made his heart ache, regret and sadness flooding all of his senses.

It was knowing that he messed up.

He did this.

It was no one's fault but his, and the real kicker was that even if he apologized, got down on his knees pleading and crying, she had every right to walk away.

She didn’t have to forgive him, he didn’t deserve it and Fred knew that, and accepting that was what allowed him to finally push his pride aside.

“Why do you look like that?” Lily’s voice rang through the entrance, her face scrunched in disgust at Fred’s less then put together appearance.

He couldn’t care less about her question, his eyes were trained on the way Y/n’s breath skipped and she seemed nervous, almost… scared to be near him again.

“Y/n…”

Lily looked between the two, each holding a lovesick gaze polluted with sadness that made her, quite honestly, uncomfortable, but she was able to gage the situation and spoke up, “I’ll leave you to it, then. Need something, I’ll be in our common room.”

Y/n nodded, giving her friend a nervous smile as she left, then looking back at the roughed up ginger standing before her.

“Fred.”

Her tone was stoic and he hated it.

Fred didn’t know where to start.

“I-” The words got lost in his mouth as she looked at him expectantly.

Y/n shook her head, going to walk in the same direction Lily went, “Look, if you’re just going to continue calling me names I’m going to leave.”

“I’m sorry.” His words came out rushed and near a shout as he took a step forward trying to reach out to her, to stop her from leaving.

He watched as the girl seemed to mull things over before giving him a curt nod, “Yeah, it’s fine. What’s done is done.”

She ended the sentence with a new found attitude, he had chosen to act the way he did, now he had to deal with it.

With a sudden surge of passion Fred nearly growled out, “No.”

“No?”

“No. It’s not done. It’s not over. I was stupid and rude an-and a disrespectful git. I want to apologize for the nasty things I said, you didn’t deserve that, not at all.” Fred fought.

Y/n nodded, “You’re right. I didn’t, so why say it?”

Fred let out a breath as he stepped closer to her, eyes burning with an emotion Y/n had never seen before.

“Because I was jealous, insecure, and stupid. I thought you were going with him… and I knew I’d never be able to compete with that but I- Y/n, I-” He grew frustrated as he tried to find the right way to finally confess his feelings.

Y/n felt her tears build again as she frantically shook her head, taking backward steps away from the wired boy.

“Don’t. Don’t say-don’t do this Fred.”

“I’m- I love you. I’m in love with-”

“No. Don’t say that!” Heavy tears were now rolling down her face as she tried to shy away from Fred who was taking cautious steps toward her.

“Why not? Why can’t I tell you that I am in love with you, Y/n.”He questioned carefully.

She looked up at him with one of the saddest expressions he’d ever seen on a single person, “Because how am I ever meant to stop loving you when you’re saying things like this? How am I supposed to move on and get over you when you’re saying that you’re in love with me. You’re being mean Fred, just let me get over you.”

It was Fred’s turn to shake his head, “I’ll tell you every minute of every day if I had to, I love you Y/n. I love you, I love you, I love you.” The words fell so easily from his lips now, like a sacred mantra.

This only seemed to make her cry harder as she hugged herself with her arms, the sight made Fred want nothing more than to rush over to her, pull her into his embrace and wipe away each tear but he knew he had to tread lightly.

“Stop! Adrian, he’ll-”

Y/n watched Fred clench his fists, now noticing how swollen and wounded they looked.

“You don’t want to know what I overheard him saying, the things he wanted to do, the things he’s done!” Fred exclaimed, his temper making his voice rise.

At Fred’s words Y/n hung her head low, more silent tears falling down her nose. She didn’t know what to say.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” His voice softened as he stepped closer to her, the closest he’s gotten so far.

The comment made a sudden rush of an emotion- one Y/n couldn’t name at the moment- rush through her. Her eyes snapped up to Fred’s soft ones, an index finger pointing at him weakly.

“You were supposed to know, just like you’re supposed to know that I’ve been in love with you. ” She cried, knowing her logic was flawed but making no effort to stop arguing.

“If you didn’t tell me, how…” His voice was soft, the same tone one would use talking to a wounded animal or crying child.

Fred reached a hand out toward her, letting her make the decision of whether or not he could touch her just yet. The act made her let out a humorless chuckle.

“The same way you know everything!” She shouted. “The same way you know that I get uncomfortable when people touch me, the same way you know my favorite color, or how you knew that no matter how annoying you were I’d still wait for you in the mornings before breakfast so we could walk together. You were just supposed to know.” Her voice faded into a sad whimper as she looked at him.

Streaks of freshly fallen tears now lined Fred’s face as he listened to the girl, his girl. With a featherlight touch he placed his hand on her cheek, holding her face and gently coaxing it to angle up so she’d look at him.

“You’re right, I should’ve known.” Y/n nodded at his words before crashing into his chest, holding onto his jersey as she wept into his chest.

Fred held her body to his, using his right hand to caress the back of her head in an effort to calm her before going to hold her face just under the junction of her neck and jaw, his left hand wrapped around her waist holding her flush against himself.

“I should’ve known.” He muttered again, leaning down to place a loving kiss on the crown of her head.

They stood like that for who-knows how long, only the sound of Y/n’s soft sniffles being heard. It was lucky that dinner was still two or three hours away and most students didn’t come back from the Hogsmeade trip until they absolutely had to- which was twenty minutes before dinner.

Still, Fred knew they were lucky to not have any first years walking in on the emotional scene but he didn’t want to push that luck... he also didn’t want to move just yet.

“Freddie…” The soft tone made him absentmindedly run his thumb across her jaw.

“Yeah, Poppet?” His voice was hoarse, quiet and had a touch of sensitivity that made Y/n want to nuzzle into his chest but she stopped herself.

She swallowed before asking, “Did you mean it?”

Fred furrowed his brow, “What, love?”

“When you said you loved me.”

He let out a chuckle as he leaned back to look into her eyes, both of his hands going to cup her face as he spoke to her with a loving smile.

“I said it about seven times and you’re asking if I meant it? Unbelievable woman you are.”

Y/n laughed at his response, averting her eyes suddenly bashful under the intense emotion seemingly flowing through his eyes. Fred put a finger under her chin to tilt her head back up so he could look at her again, this time more serious.

“I am really sorry, Y/n. I shouldn’t have said those things, I hate myself for-”

He was cut off by the inexplicable feeling of having her be the one to now hold his face gently in her hands, as if he was delicate, important, she held him in a way he didn’t think he deserved to be held, not after all the things he’s said to her.

She searched his eyes for a deceitful haze, or glimmer of dishonesty and found nothing. Nothing except for worry, regret, and intoxicating love.

“It’s done, Freddie. It’s over. No use in worrying over it now that we can't change it.”

He gave a look of concern, “But-”

“I forgive you. I said some pretty nasty things too, let’s learn from it and move on.”

Fred’s eyes saddened and she felt herself involuntarily pout at his doe eyes.

“Move on, meaning…”

“I want you to kiss me, Fred.” She stated strongly with unwavering eye contact.

He leaned in slowly, on hand slipping to the back of her head as his fingers combed through her hair. Just before fully placing his lips onto hers, he angled his head up and placed a soft kiss onto the tip of her nose, he moved to the right corner of her mouth then the left placing sweet kisses. Fred looked into her eyes, silently asking if this was what she wanted. When she gave no sign of discomfort or hesitation he closed the gap between them. His kiss was passionate and slow, he wanted to feel her lips, the soft skin, every ridge he committed to memory.

Y/n felt herself get lost in the kiss, her eyelids had fluttered shut and hands coming up to hold both sides of his neck. She let out a whimper as Fred’s tongue found its way into her mouth, there was no fighting for dominance- Fred just wanted to feel her. Y/n found her way to the roots of his hair, giving them a tug making him groan into the kiss. He went to pull away, but she bit his lip carefully before letting it go watching as it jutted back to place.

She rested her forehead against his- given he was bent over significantly to reach her- and Fred could’ve sworn he’d never seen anything, or anyone, so beautiful. With swollen lips, flushed skin, a heaving chest, and eyes looking up at him through a thick set of lashes with a facade of innocence that made his knees weak.

Both of them grinned at each other, Y/n’s thumbs running back and forth over the soft skin of Fred’s long neck whilst he traced the outline of her cheekbones with his.

“I-I, uh…” Fred shut his eyes momentarily as he laughed at his attempts to find the right words.

Y/n smirked up at him before teasing.

“Are you always this articulate?”

Taglist:

italicized are blogs I wasn’t able to tag

@crazylokonugget​ @alluringshawn​ @meph1stophelian​ @lol-idk-oops​ @slytherclaw1996 @anywherebuthere​​ @freddieweasleyswife​​ @honey-honey-5644 @cookiecakeslive​ @lexymoniqu​ @siriusement​ @gloryekaterina​ @cyberangelpeach​ @lucymfer​ @freds-slut​ @s1ut4georgeweasley​@amourtentiaa  @wolfiepirate 

#Fred Weasley #Fred Weasley imagine #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley headcanons #fred weasley x slytherin!reader #fred weasley x reader