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arlana-likes-to-write · 1 month

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Second Chance - Chapter 11

Masterlist

Warning: angst with a happy ending, mention of death, Yelena struggling with her feelings and being a little dumb lol

Word Count: 3.7k

“There she is!” You giggled as the elevator doors opened, and Kate stood up to pull you into a hug. “How was DC?”

“It was a nice change of pace,” you smiled and sat down with Kate and America on the couch. “But I’m glad to be back in the city.”

“Awe, did you miss us that much?” America squeezed at your cheeks. You slapped her hands and glared at her, but there was no bite. There was something about being at the tower you didn’t have in DC. Maybe it was the simple fact they knew you for what you were now. They never saw who you were before the accident, before the Blip.

“The mission went well, I hear.” You leaned back on the couch, and your bag fell to the floor by your feet.

“Yes, it did. We kicked ass, saved the day, and looked good doing it,” Kate smirked. You rolled your eyes and flicked the girl on her forehead. The archer gasped and rubbed the spot you flicked. Her pout caused you and her girlfriend to laugh. The sound immediately died when the elevator door opened, and the Blonde Black Widow walked out. You stared at her as she stared at you - both afraid to speak to one another. Before the elevator closed, she turned around and went back in. She was not saying a single word.

“Unbelievable,” you mumbled, slumping further into the couch. I don’t even know what happened. Did I do something wrong?” The couple looked apologetic, and as Kate opened her mouth, you shook your head. You know what? I don’t have time for her,” you stood up and looked at the duo. Do you guys want to help me pack up the rest of my apartment? I know you guys just got back from a mission .”

“Yeah, of course, we’ll help,” Kate said before America could respond. The girl looked confused but shrugged and stood up.

“I mean, I was going to sit on my ass all day,” you giggled. “Might as well be an unpaid pack mule.” Kate hit her on the back of her head.

“I’ll pay you in food,” you said with a smile, but the smile wasn’t an accurate portrayal of how you were feeling. There was an ache that filled your chest. The feeling traveled across your body, making you feel numb. You understood that not everyone was going to like you. You’ve had your fair share of enemies but desperately wanted her to like you.

“Why do you have so many forks?” Kate asked, wrapping your silverware and putting it in the box. A moving company was stopping to gather the boxes and furniture to donate. “You are one person,” you rolled your eyes as you packed the rest of your living room.

“Just in case I had people over,” you chuckled. You heard Kate mumble, ‘That is so weird.’ You shook your head. You had extra of everything because you planned to invite your friends from DC to the city, but that never happened. Now, you were packing everything up and moving into the tower, which was still weird to wrap your head around.

Working with America and Kate was fun. They made it quick and easy and filled the time with laughter from the stories they told. Once lunchtime rolled around, you ordered Chinese food and sat on the ground because your table was gone. Still, it was fun; their laughter pushed away an ugly feeling that formed in your stomach. However, it wouldn’t stay away for long, and the couple noticed the shift in your mood when it came back.

“You can ask,” Kate said, whipping her mouth with a napkin. You wanted to ask what you did wrong. The question burned on your tongue. You felt silly for holding back, but a part of you knew you didn’t have time to dwell on people who didn’t like you. But with your scientific mind, you were curious about the sudden change. The blond seemed to scramble your brain and leave it a mess.

“Did I do something wrong?” you finally asked. We were fine before the mission, but now she is ignoring me. I don’t have—” you cut yourself off with a sigh. I don’t know what happened.” The couple shared a look. They gave you the same apologetic look as if they knew something you didn’t.

“It’s complicated,” Kate began. God, you hated that word. It was a word said when someone refused to tell you the whole truth. “It’s tough for her to open up to people with everything she’s been through.”

“I understand that,” you couldn’t image the horrors she and her sister were subjected to. “I just wish she wasn’t so hot or cold with me. I-” Again, you cut yourself off and dug into your lo mein.

“What do you almost keep saying?” America asked. You couldn’t look at them. Tony’s decision made sense. They were on a mission and needed to stay focused. The possibility of you dying would complicate the matter.

“Before you guys left, Tony told me he found a match, and I refused to use her.” You spoke slowly.

“It’s Morgan, right?” You nodded. “You are refusing to use her bone marrow even though it could save you.” You hated the way Kate said it; you even used that wording when speaking with Pepper and Tony. There was no way you were using Morgan.

“That is—” America trailed off. It was a lot of things. Crazy, insane, maybe honorable. That’s a little wild.” You laughed at the disbelief on both of their faces. “Why?” You weren’t sure how to answer that. You didn’t want someone you cared about to be in pain to save you. Or maybe you were ready for all of this to be over and to see your mom again.

“Why did you join the Avengers?” You asked them instead.

“To make a difference,” Kate said without hesitation. “To save those that need saving.” America looked at Kate with a love-sick expression that went unnoticed by the archer. You would have teased them if it wasn’t a semi-serious conversation.

“To find a family,” America said softly. I lost mine and found a new one with the team.” Kate was quick to grab her girlfriend’s hand. You nodded and closed your takeout container, no longer feeling hungry.

“In some way, Morgan and Tony are all I have left,” you began. “Now I have the team, but it’s different?” Kate nodded. I don’t want to cause them physical pain if I can avoid it.”

“Even if a little physical discomfort could save them a lifetime of emotional pain?” America questioned. There was Plan B. Plan B would save your life; if it didn’t, it was okay.

“Look, I would just talk to her,” Kate said, changing the topic. “Put your foot down and tell her the truth. It may put her out of her own head.” Or worse, it may ruin the fragile friendship you already had.

When you returned to the tower, you ignored your instinct to rush to the blonde’s room and demand answers. Instead, you took the elevator to the Stark’s floor. Morgan threw herself into your arms before you could step onto their floor. “Well, hello, Princess Morgan,” you chuckled and picked the girl up. Her head pushed into the crock of your neck. The beating of her heart mimicked a hummingbird.

“Morgan,” you looked at Pepper, who was sitting on the couch. You have to ask for a hug.” The young girl tightened her arms around your neck, afraid you would let her down.

“Missed her,” she mumbled. You chuckled, sat on the couch, and Morgan moved onto your lap.

“I missed you too, sweet girl,” you said, pushing her hair out of her face and kissing her forehead. She snuggled closer, and you rubbed circles onto her back.

“How was DC?” Pepper asked. Her voice was soft so she didn’t disturb her daughter, who fell asleep on your chest. You smiled as you felt her breathing and heart rate slow down.

“Good,” you whispered back. “It was strange being back. It didn’t feel like home, which was weird,” Pepper hummed and closed the laptop she was working on. She moved closer and allowed your head to rest on her shoulder, to your surprise.

“Tony said you called him in a panic after their mission,” her hand movements mimicked how you were moving your hand on Morgan’s back. “Do you want to talk about it?” You shrugged.

“I guess being in DC got me thinking about my mom, and it was my first mission, and it worried me.” You felt the CEO nod. “Does it get easier? Like, do you still worry about Tony when he leaves?” Pepper sighed.

“You find ways to distract yourself. It becomes easier to manage the worry,” she paused, but her hand never stopped drawing circles on your back. It was getting hard to fight the sleep invading everyone of your senses. Pepper was nice, felt nice too.

“If you keep doing that, I’m going to fall asleep,” you mumbled, closing your eyes. You heard Pepper chuckle.

“Nothing wrong with that, sweetheart,” she whispered. “Take a nap if you need one.”

Tony was thankful that Friday informed him to be quiet when returning to his floor. He stepped out of the elevator and was welcomed with the sight of you cuddled up against Pepper with Morgan on your chest. All three of you were asleep. It was rare for Tony to find his wife taking a nap. She was always working - busy with meetings or putting out fires with the press. His family was here. He tried to be quiet and grabbed a throw blanket to put it over the trio, but he wasn’t as silent as he had thought, and the sudden moment caused Pepper to wake up. “Sorry,” he apologized. “I didn’t mean to wake up.” Instead of answering, Pepper grabbed his hand and pulled him to the couch. He allowed himself to sit down behind her. The CEO rested her head against him and closed her eyes. She wasn’t asleep, just resting against him. Tony smiled and kissed her forehead. “I don’t think I’ve seen you take a nap.” Tony teased. The CEO chuckled but let out a sleepy sigh.

“Wasn’t my intention at first,” she whispered. “But I’m not sure how many more opportunities we’ll get.” It was like someone dumped ice water over Tony. The idea of how limited your time was here scared him. There was so much he wanted to do and learn. Like always, Pepper was right. With you, time was limited. Her eyes opened slightly, squinting from the harsh light. “Will you stay?” Work needed to be done - mission reports and tune-ups to his and Peter’s suit. All that could wait.

“Yeah, I’ll say,” A nap sounded perfect anyway.

“You are just a sore loser,” you heard Peter say as Kate had to draw eight cards in the game of Uno. You chuckled. After dinner, a card game broke out between Kate, Peter, America, Sam, Maria, and Bucky. You were pretty sure the table was going to get flipped when Maria skipped Bucky three times in a row. You weren’t in the mood to play cards. The surprise nap with Pepper brought up feelings regarding your mom. So, while the Avengers destroyed their friendship over reds, blues, and greens, you were sketching your mom.

It was a trip you and she took to the Adirondacks. She was sitting by the campfire, toasting a marshmallow for you and her. The lake you spent hours learning how to paddle board was behind her. The sun was beginning to set, and the lightning bugs were making their presence known. No matter how old you got, you loved chasing them.

You tapped your pencil on the paper. When was the last time you chased after them? You sighed and stood up from your spot on the couch. You sent a smile to Kate to tell her you were okay and walked into the kitchen. You weren’t really hungry. The idea of food turned your stomach. You filled a glass with ice and ginger ale and slowly sipped the carbonated drink.

The blonde Black Widow walked over to the counter with a plate of crackers and store-bought jello. “You didn’t eat dinner,” you stared at her and sipped on the drink. “I brought you something easy on your stomach.” She could not be serious right now. Why was she doing this? Ignoring you for one second, then showing she cared the next.

“I thought you didn’t want to speak to me,” she cringed.

“Look-”

“No,” you cut her off. “You listen to me. I don’t know what I did, but I don’t deserve it,” you dumped the rest of your drink out. “So, figure out where your head is before you speak to me again.” You grabbed your sketchbook and headed for the stairs to get to your floor so you could avoid the others, but you heard her footsteps following you.

“Hey, don’t walk away from me,” you stopped but refused to look at her. You wanted her to work for it. She walked in front of you. “Why won’t you let me explain?”

“Because I have a feeling the next word out of your mouth was going to be complicated,” you crossed your arms. “And I don’t have time for complicated, Belova. So if you want to be in my life, act like it or get out of my way.” You pumped your shoulder against hers as you walked past her.

“De’mo (shit),” Yelena mumbled and ran her hands through her blonde hair. That was not good, and she could only blame herself. Getting that stupid photo out of her head was so hard for her. The easiest thing was to push you away because that was what she was good at. But she had to do something when she saw that you weren’t eating. God, she was stupid.

“That was stupid.” She wasn’t sure when Natasha walked up behind her, but she wasn’t going to question it.

“I know,” she groaned, throwing her head back. Yelena heard Natasha walk over to her, place a hand on her neck, and pull her into a hug. The blonde let out a shaky breath.

“You like her, don’t you?” A slight nod was all Yelena could muster. “Then,” she was suddenly pulled out of the hug, and her sister flicked her forehead. “Get your head out of your ass and tell her.” She looked offended and rubbed the spot that was flicked.

“Why the abuse?” Natasha rolled her eyes and put her arm around her shoulders to move her away from the others.

“Look, I know how hard it is to unlearn what they taught us,” she was referring to the Red Room. “And I wouldn’t force you if you weren’t ready, but this time, it’s different.” Right. Different. It was different because of the disease that racked through your body.

“Nat,” Yelena whispered. “What do I do?” Natasha gave her sister a soft smile.

“Listen to this,” she said, placing a hand over Yelena’s heart. And no matter what happens, I’ll be right here.”

A knock on your door pulled you out of your simmering thoughts, and you angrily took a bite of your yogurt. You figured it was America, Kate, and maybe even Wanda to check on you. When you opened the door, the blonde was standing before you. You tried to slam the door close, but she stopped it with her arm. “Wait,” she stopped it with her arm. “Wait. Wait,” she pleaded. “Please. Just hear me out.” You sighed and leaned against the door frame. It was weird seeing the Black Widow so unsure of herself. She looked small, and you had to fight every nerve in your body to bring her in for a hug. “Can we start over?” You titled your head. She stood up straighter and held out her hand. “My name is Yelena Belova.” Your mouth dropped slightly, but you recovered and took her outstretched hand.

“Yelena,” you repeated back. A slight blush dusted her cheeks. You liked the way her name flowed off your lips. “Hi Yelena”

“Can I come in?” You stepped out of the way for her to come in. You closed the door and let out a shaky breath. Could she hear the pounding of your heart? You rested your back against the door and watched Yelena fiddle with the rings on her fingers.

“I do not know how to do this,” she said, pointing to the space between you and her. “Apologize.” You chuckled, shaking your head. “But I am sorry. I’ve treated you-”

“Like shit?” She cringed down. You took a few steps forward and shortened the distance between you and her. “Why?” It took her a moment, you and her. The silence wasn’t awkward, but your stomach was in knots.

“I also do not know how to let people into my life, but,” she closed the remaining distance between you and her. You could see every detail of her green eyes. The way the lights you had on overhead scattered across them. They reminded you of a vast, lush forest. Her eyes served as a window to her soul. Her gaze had a certain depth as if each glance revealed layers of hidden thoughts and emotions. You never saw her look so vulnerable. “But I do know I want to be in your life if you want me to be.” Her eyes glanced down to your lips but moved back to your eyes. You took a step back and created some distance between you and her. You couldn’t think clearly when she was so close. All your mind wanted to do was kiss her.

“Do you want to watch a movie together? I can make popcorn, and we can start this—” You weren’t sure what to call the relationship between you and Yelena. A friendship seemed too constricting. Besides, you weren’t sure if friends thought about kissing one another. “Over again.” Yelena smiled.

“Yeah, I would love to.”

“Go pick something to watch, and I’ll get the popcorn,” she nodded and walked over to the couch. You let out a breath that felt trapped in your lungs. You’ve never felt this flustered, this scrambled in front of someone. All of your life, you were always the one to put together. When you flirted with random girls, they were the ones that turned into a blushing mess and stumbled over their words. The sound of the microwave beeping made you jump, and you heard Yelena laugh from the couch. Her green eyes were watching you from the couch. You flipped her off and grabbed the popcorn and two water bottles. She picked Rush Hour as the movie to watch, and you happily sat down on the couch, leaving some space between you and her.

“Good?”

“Yeah, good,” you smiled. You were happily telling the truth.

It wasn’t until halfway through the movie that Yelena asked, “Can I ask you something?”

“You just did,” she glared at you and threw a piece of popcorn at you. “But yes, you can.” You watched her reach for the remote and pause the movie.

“You said to me that you don’t have time for complicated,” she spoke slowly as if she wanted you to understand every word. “Isn’t Stark looking for a match? Did he not find one?” She had to ask tonight. You sighed and picked up one of her rings. Once the movie started, she took them off and dove into the popcorn. This one was a fidget ring.

“He found one, but I refused.” You couldn’t look at her, placed the ring on your pointer finger, and spun it around. Morgan is a match, but I won’t subject her to that surgery. So we go to Plan B, which means they increase my dosage and the frequency of it. We’ll see what happens.” You expected her to yell, to call you crazy, and demand you change your mind.

“Okay,” was all she said instead. You gave yourself whiplash because you turned your head so fast to look at her. “What?”

“You aren’t going to try to convince me to change my mind or force me to use Morgan,” Yelena leaned back and placed her arm on the back of the couch. Her fingers played with the quilt threads that draped around your shoulders.

“It’s not my decision. You’ve chosen, and I can’t force you to do anything. I know the feeling very well,” she softly said. “What I can do is support you and help where I can.” Oh. That was unexpected, but that was Yelena; you were learning. You nodded and focused back on the ring you were playing with. You took it off and leaned forward to return it with her collection. However, Yelena stopped you, took the ring from your hand, and placed it on the finger that fit. “Keep it,” she said, looking it over on your hand. “Looks better on you anyways.” You weren’t sure if your body warmed up due to the compliment or the warmth that traveled to you through her hand. Yeah, she was surprising.

Yelena wasn’t sure when your body gravitated towards hers while the movie played. She tried to focus on the film that played on the screen and not the feeling of your thigh so close to hers. It became impossible when your body curled against her and rested your head on her shoulder. The quilt you were using now covered her. Her arm moved around your shoulders. “I may fall asleep,” you admitted quietly.

“Do you want me to leave so you can get some rest?” Yelena wanted you to tell her to stay, but she knew she was lucky you had given her a second chance. If you wanted her to leave, she could. You shook your head.

“You make a good pillow,” you mumbled. Yelena chuckled.

“Thanks for the compliment, Easton.”

“No problem, Yelena.” She hated how much her body reacted to you when her name fell from your lips.

Taglist: @likemick, @averagetmblrusser, @wandaromamoff69, @simpforyelenabelova, @cd-4848,

#second chance #yelena belova x reader #yelena belova x you #yelena belova x stark!reader #tony stark x daugher!reader #yelena belova x y/n

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afieldinengland · 7 months

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rise of the nutters / spinners and losers commentary highlights:

-> 'can i have a donut? seeing as my days on the thick of it are numbered?' [extremely loud paper bag noises next to microphone] 'that's the donut.' [peter capaldi audibly has his mouth full for the next minute and a half]

-> 'never thought i'd say that on a dvd commentary. the tail end of clinton.'

-> 'we're talking about hookers and breakfast. should we be talking about the programme?'

-> '[phil is] ollie's opposite number [...] ineffectual, pathetic, but just blue instead of red'

-> 'well, peter capaldi started it by saying, "can you be more interesting?" when he's gone i'm going to talk about tits.'

-> ‘i saw john major while filming this, and he had security men with him.’ 'what was he afraid of, retro hitmen?’ 'he really thinks people remember him?’ 'yeah, people who want to assassinate currently irrelevant figures.’

-> '[re: ollie's costume] i feel genuinely weakened as a person when i start putting those burton suits on. i can't quite look people in the eye at that point.'

-> 'how do you feel about being cast as a tall, posh idiot?'

-> ‘a lot of my friends were genuinely concerned about what was going to happen to malcolm.’ 'he’s going to regenerate.’ 'you better hope not, you’ll come back as david tennant– no offence.’

-> 'there's something profoundly terrifying about david cameron, isn't there?' 'the eyes, the smile.... and the fact that he went to eton.'

-> 'we did many, many takes of [the bathroom scene], as i seem to remember, and then at the end you tell me to wash my hands again, even though i’d just washed them, which you hadn’t said before, and then i– i genuinely felt compelled to do it.’

-> 'as we record this, we have no idea what the result will be, or if we have any civil liberties.... left'

-> 'the one thing i've always thought about alastair campbell is that actually he's quite crap at spinning.'

-> ‘we are working on a third and fourth sex, for those of you in space who are interested’

-> 'malcolm is very good.... is he?' 'he's sort of good.' 'he's good at surviving.'

-> 'he [alastair campbell] might want a role in the next series' [everybody groaning in pain]

-> 'you told me years ago, i said "are you any good at theatre acting?" and you went "no no, i’m a furniture toucher."'

-> 'we [the opposition] were simply put in as the setting for you.' 'you are the caryatids holding up the proscenium arch.'

-> 'season three, the laser battle of course,'

-> 'this is probably better acting than i've done in anything else, and i have no idea what i'm doing.'

-> 'maybe you, in ten years' time?' 'a health spa? ollie's health spa?' 'called ollie's.' 'yeah. ollie'z, with a z.'

-> 'i've always said malcolm isn't based on alastair campbell.' [polly kemp does a spit take]

-> ‘it took will and i a good 30 to 45 seconds to get through the cellophane. it was truly pathetic. oh, god, i have pretty low self-esteem vis-à-vis masculinity as it stands, i can’t open cheese,’

-> ‘i don’t do anything else. i do 'penny drops’, and, erm, a face of repose.’ 'face of repose? so doing nothing?’

-> [justin edwards impersonating david dickinson]

-> ‘i don’t know what we’re going to do about jamie.’ 'he’s going to have to be neutered. he’s going to have to be run round a pound once a day, like the battersea dogs.’ 'do you think he’s been with about three or four families, who’ve all taken him back?’ 'handing over a hundred quid donation, going, “we’re really sorry, we know this is against the spirit of the thing.”’ 'we wish jamie was just for christmas.’

#the thick of it #i ❤️ waffling on

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boldlyvoid · 2 years

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R&R

18+

Summary: Professor Reid has an appointment with a 'student' in his office, at the end of office hours, to discuss a position piece of hers.

Warnings: teasing, showering together, role-playing student/teacher relationship, semi-public sex (spencer's office at the college), oral (fem receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, wall sex, creampies, cum play

word count: 3.3k

Masterlist

She’ll never tell him, but she prefers when he’s a teacher over when he’s an FBI agent. He’s so much calmer, happier even when he’s allowed to be himself and teach people the things trapped inside his mind. He was over the moon planning and showing her his lessons, going over his thoughts and opening speeches with her, it was lovely seeing him this excited.

Even at 6 in the morning when he’s crawling out of her bed, waking her up from a peaceful slumber to use the shower and grumble around the kitchen making himself breakfast. She wraps herself in one of his cardigans on her bedroom floor and wanders in after him.

She makes his lunch while he’s getting dressed, putting it in a cute paper bag with a sweet little message of encouragement for his first day. “Did you still want me to come to visit you?” She asks as she hands him his lunch.

He nods with a smile, “anytime you’re free this week let me know, I’ll make sure I pencil you in.”

She laughs, “what about you schedule me in at the end of the day on Friday, and we can discuss my grades?”

He awkwardly giggles, “y-yeah,” he clears his throat. “I can do that.”

“I love you, you know,” she leans in closer, on her tippy toes so she can brush her nose against his.

He holds her delicately with his hands around her waist, “I know, thank you.”

“And…”

“I love you too,” he whispers with a smirk, pressing his lips to hers gently as they both keep smiling.

“Good,” she teases as she pulls away, “because I need to ask something…”

“What?” He looks as if his heart drops to his stomach just then.

“Nothing bad, I was just wondering if I could maybe, with your help this week, merge all our stuff into one room and then turn the other into a double office with both our desks and things?” She can hear her voice rising a pitch as she gets nervous, worried about disrupting the space he so carefully crafted over the last 15 years.

“Yeah,” he nods enthusiastically. “We should use the master for us, obviously. If you want to remodel anything, you’re allowed to, just run it by Dorothy if you’re going to go crazy.”

She rubs her hands together nefariously, “oh this is going to be so fun.”

“Just don’t start on my room till I get home, I should clean it out and get rid of the things I don’t need first and make it easier for you to move it over,” he smiles, slipping on his coat and reaching for his things again. “Not that I have anything to hide, I just don’t like the idea of my things being moved without me there.”

“I get it,” she smiles back, “tonight we could get take out and I can help you go through things to donate?”

“Text me your order and I’ll get it on my way home,” he leans in for one last kiss, “I finish at 5 today.”

“I’ll miss you until then,” she steals another kiss right after.

“Love you,” he pulls away for real this time, reaching for the door and opening it.

“love you more, be safe, text me when you get there?” She worries.

“Of course,” he calls back as he leaves, biting the bullet, pulling off the bandage, and taking the plunge. He has to go like this or he’ll stay there saying goodbye for hours.

She closes the door behind him with a sigh, it sucked missing him during the day.

—

His first class goes so well it leaves an extra pep in his step.

So many students showed up, and they all listened attentively and asked questions, it was the longest he’s been able to talk and feel truly appreciated for his words in a long time. Other than with Y/N, although lately, they haven’t been saying as many words to each other, they’ve been speaking mostly with their hands.

He couldn’t wait to get home and see her, to tell her about his day and bounce the excitement off of her.

That was probably his favourite part of being with her.

The fact that she mirrored his energy perfectly time and time again. From the moment he met her, he’s felt like he unlocked a new part of himself; a happier, more carefree version of Spencer Reid that he’s always wanted to be. She was a blessing and he wanted to show her just how much for the rest of his life.

He walks into their apartment with a smile, his shoes and coat come right off then he immediately looks for Y/N. He knocks on her open bedroom door before walking in, just in case she didn’t hear him come home, but she’s not in there.

“Spence?” She calls out from the bathroom, wrapped in a towel and sporting a smile, “I was about to have a shower… if you want to wash the day off too?”

He walks towards her while unbuttoning his shirt, “I’d love to join you. How was your day?”

He kisses her on the lips when he reaches the door, her towel drops when she pulls him into a hug and takes over unbuttoning his shirt. “Better now that you’re back,” she mumbles against his lips.

All his clothes come off, and the two of them stumble into the shower while still kissing each other. Slowly caressed by the water, it’s such a nice way to come home.

They tell each other stories from their day as they take turns under the water. He covered his body in soap while she ran soap off her own, and then they switched, he’d clean himself off all while she watched with a smile. “You’re so handsome,” she whispers and lightly runs her finger down his chest. “How’d I get so lucky?”

“I ask myself that every day,” he sighs, tilting his head back and letting the water run through his hair. He wipes the water from his face and looks at her through his saturated eyelashes. “I love you.”

“I love you,” she pulls him into another quick kiss, melting into him while her hands roam his back.

He can’t help taking a handful of her ass, squeezing it slightly before slapping the wet skin with a smirk, “we need to get out before I try to fuck you against this wall and we both come out with a broken hip.”

It makes her laugh, “imagine calling someone to help us still mid penetration with broken hips…”

He laughs too, “It’s better than that scene in greys anatomy you showed me, where Lexi broke Mark's penis.”

“It’s surprisingly easy to break a penis—

“Mine is literally going to retreat inside of me if you keep talking,” he cuts her off but it makes her laugh harder.

He takes that as his queue to turn off the water, opening the shower door and passing her the first towel while she just shakes her head with a smirk.

“You’re so fucking funny sometimes.”

“Only sometimes?” He pouts.

“I’m not smart enough for all of your jokes,” she teases him further, wrapping the towel around herself and getting out of the shower.

“Hey, you’re not that dumb,” he teases her right back without a problem.

She gasps, shocked that he’d insinuate that she’s any amount of dumb, as revenge, she takes his towel off the hook and runs out of the room. Leaving him naked and wet and alone, “hey!!”

“Who’s dumb now?” She yells back.

“You,” he gets out, water dripping on the floor as he carefully walks out of the room so as to not slip on the hardwood floor. He runs right to her room, getting in her bed and using her sheets as a towel.

“You did not!”

“It’s not like you’re sleeping in here tonight,” he explains, not knowing what his own room looks like right now.

“Actually, we might have to seeing as most of your things are on your bed right now…”

“Why?”

“I was cleaning out your closet, you have 15 years' worth of things in there that I don’t know how much you like, so it’s all organized into categories on your bed now,” she explains. “It’s a mess, but you have to make a mess before you can re-organize.”

“Why don’t we just move?” He shrugs, “this place is old and not even mine… I’m 40, I should buy a house.”

“But I can move with you?” She seems confused.

He nods, getting out of her bed and taking the sheets off with him, “if you want to get a mortgage together, I would be down, but I didn’t want to assume you’re at that level yet.”

“We already live together, having a house that is ours that we can make a home together would be really nice.”

“It really would be,” he smiles so wide. In love with her more than he could explain, “I’m sorry about this, by the way,” he apologizes for her wet sheets, “I’ll do the laundry in a minute.”

“It’s fine,” she doesn’t mind, dropping her towel to the floor, “lets at least give them a reason to be washed.”

—

She wears a short skirt, a slightly small button-up shirt, and a very long jacket. Her long legs on display, heels clicking as she walks down the hall, the minimal amount of eyes in the building are on her as she passes and they stay as she walks away. All the way down to the back of the library where she knows Spencer’s office is.

She knocks 3 times, hearing “come in.” She turns the knob and enters cautiously, “hi doctor reid, I have an appointment with you today…”

“I remember,” he smiliest her, “you can close the door, come sit.”

She pushes the door closed and locks it as a precaution, she unbuttons her coat and lets it fall off her shoulders before she turns to face him. Taking it off fully, she hangs it on his coat hook and makes her way to the chair, she crosses her legs and sits like a lady, knowing she was about to get treated like a whore.

She pushes her glasses up and smiles at him, “thank you for seeing me.”

He leans in closer with a smirk, “are we starting now? We never talked about the plan?”

She leans in closer too, laughing slightly, “are we disputing a grade or are you helping me understand something?”

“Can you pretend to not understand something and I’m like clueless that you actually want to fuck me?” Spencer suggests.

She nods, “is it my turn to pretend to take advantage of you?”

He sucks in a deep breath and nods, “please?”

“Resume,” she winks at him and sits back in her seat.

“There’s not much I can do to change your mark at this point, all I can think is offering you some extra credit?”

She gets up from her seat, walks around the desk and sits on the edge in front of him. Legs slightly spread, her skirt has ridden up, panties now on show, she leans towards him with her boobs pushed together, “and what can I do to get that?”

“uh—”

“I have a few ideas…” she cuts him off, taking his tie in her hand and pulling him in closer. “You can just say I wrote some position paper and I can show you a few positions in person?”

She watches his face heat up, and he swallows sharply making his Adam’s apple bob in his throat, deliciously. She feels like a feral cat, ready to pounce on him and just have her way with him. She’s been dying to just fuck his brains out with no rhyme or reason as long as she’s known him. Now’s her chance.

She pulls him in by his tie, kissing him with tongue, and he moans into her mouth. His hands are on her sides, cautiously, it’s like the first night all over again. He doesn’t know what he’s allowed to do, like if he was to actually fuck a student that just wanted to use him.

He’s putty in her hands, going where she says and she’s giving him free rein. She pulls back and looks into his lust-blown, chocolate brown eyes, “I know you’ve been looking up my skirt during lessons, so why don’t you get on your knees and take a closer look.”

He follows orders well, dropping to his knees and spreading her legs apart further with a groan. His eyes roll back as he runs his finger over the white fabric. Symbolizing purity, he couldn’t believe she’d even pretend to give it to him this way. If only his past self could see him now.

“You look fucking delicious.”

“Thank you, professor,” she smirks, running her fingers through his hair and making eye contact with him again, “want a taste?”

“You know, most students just bring me cookies… or an apple?” He teases.

“Is that a no?” She fakes offence, closing her legs slightly when he protests.

“No, it was a compliment… pussy is my favourite,” he practically purrs.

He stands again, pushing her skirt up to her waist and pulling her panties off. They go right into his pocket, he sits back in his chair, letting her rest her feet on the armrests while he takes his position between them. He licks his lips in anticipation, “now remember, we’re in the back of the library, so try and be a little poised.”

“Yes sir,” she bites her lip, watching him hook his arms around her thighs and he digs in.

Instant relief, she sighs and leans back, hand still in his hair and using it as a leash. Guiding him where to go, rejoicing in his free choices and begging for more. He was so good with his tongue, and his hands too. His fingers were long and dainty, the knuckles were boney and his nails were always nice. When he pushed in two fingers, slowly as to feel the ridge of each knuckle before he couldn’t get any deeper, he curled them so the soft pads of his fingertips rubbed that special spot inside of her.

She was trying her best to stay quiet, but the gasps she was letting out were a tell-tale sign to anyone passing the door that locked them there. No one could come in, they were safe in there but the rumours could still cause him some issues if she was heard.

She kept quiet as long as possible but it broke when the heat in her belly hit a fever pitch. She covered her mouth with her hand, losing her grip on the desk and laying back against his papers. His closed laptop was cold against the exposed skin of her back, cooling her down as her orgasm rushed through her with a shock. “Oh, fuck,” She groaned behind her hand, trying so hard not to squeal the way she would at home when he kept going. Fucking her through her orgasm, torturing her with pleasure.

When he pulls away he wipes his fingers on her skirt and moves to unbutton his pants, he stands to push them off and pull her in closer. His bulge collides with her aching, empty pussy as she whines for more. “Please, professor?”

He pulls her back up to a sitting position and then to her feet, turning her around and pressing her against the blackboard behind him. With a fistful of her hair and her cheek touching chalk, he grinds against her ass. “Please what?”

She moans slightly, “use my pretty pussy, show me what grade I deserved?”

He lets go of her hair and relieves the pressure on her back, her chest heaves as the adrenaline courses through her body. He runs his hands down her sides, making her shiver. When he reaches her skirt, he flicks the hem up and grips both of her butt cheeks, spreading them as she leans forward a bit more, showing him where he can put it.

He free’s his cock from his underwear, rubbing it against her ass for some relief for himself, and to tease her. She thinks he’s finally going to fuck her when he slides between her folds, gliding the head of his cock over her clit, making her shiver again and sigh in frustration. “Please?”

“Fine,” he pushes right in.

She’s shocked, her gasp becomes a moan as he fucks her immediately. He doesn’t wait for her to adjust to the size or get used to it at all, he just takes her the way she’s been begging him to. He breathes against the back of her neck, kissing right under her ear, “this what you wanted?”

“Yes sir,” she can’t help but smile as the pleasure courses through her. The cold blackboard she’s resting against is relieving the heat she feels all over, desperate for so much more, she pushes back against him, arching her back more, wishing she was bent over the desk.

Like he’s reading her mind, he pulls out and maneuvers her over the desk again, slapping her ass once and then slipping right back in. He keeps the same pace as before, fucking her with a glorious rhythm, she reaches between her legs to rub her clit where she’s met with his hand too.

He rests his on top of hers, showing her how to move her fingers, helping her out in more ways than one, it’s so fucking hot she can’t take anymore. “close… fuck.”

“Wanna let go baby?” He coos in her ear.

“You first,” she begs, “fill me up, professor?”

“Fuck,” he growls, teeth gracing her neck, he fucks her harder and faster until he erupts, pumping her full of his cum as his hips still, but her’s quake.

Her orgasm hits the same as his, rushing through her as she feels the heat inside. It’s her favourite part of having sex with him, knowing that he’s never cum in anyone but her, feeling like she’s been marked by him, she belongs to him, it’s everything to her.

They take a moment to catch their breath, his chest rests on her back, his chin on her shoulder, she reaches her free hand around to hold him in a weird hug, “thank you.”

“You’re getting A’s for the rest of the term,” he jokes, out of breath and full of love for her. The smile on his tired face proves it. “I love you.”

She knew that already but hearing it was still wonderful. “I love you,” she smiles back. “Can I have my underwear back or are you going to make me walk out of here with your cum dripping down my legs?”

He pulls out slowly, reaching for a tissue to catch the mess on his way out. “You can have them back in a sec,” he can’t help but laugh. “If I had the energy to go again,” he groans as he watched his cum leak out of her. “fuck…”

“Hey,” she giggles, “I’m tired too.”

She turns around, reaching in his pocket and taking her underwear back, she sits on the edge of the desk and slips back into them carefully. “Do you have anything else to do or can we go home?”

“Let’s go home,” he agrees, pulling his pants back up and buckling his belt once more. It was still funny to both of them that they could fuck like that and then go right back to their normal, giddy, selves.

He took her coat off the hook, wrapped her in it and grabbed his own, they linked arms, he turned out the lights and the two of them made their way out of the empty library, happier than ever simply because they had each other.

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#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid request #criminal minds smut #criminal minds imagine

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deputy-buck · 5 months

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I’m back lol. So as we know, you love Sid (I totally get why!) but now here’s another question…

WHAT’S YOUR SHIPS FOR SID (if you have any) AND DO YOU HAVE ANY HEADCANONS OF SID!??

(I love it so much when people come back to my askbox again and again, it makes me feel so loved, thank you Mar)

There's 4 people that I ship him with!

Sid/Gene: childhood lovers, all of their firsts are with each other, there's no bashfulness so they know literally everythin that makes the other go bonkers in bed. Before their service years, it was very sweet and frantic, the 'this is so wrong but it feels so good' feelin was still fresh. After the war, it turned a little dark -not too dark- and Sid became a sort of authority figure for Eugene, givin Gene an outlet for his new need to serve. It also helps soothe the slipping feelin Sidney gets at times; like none of his efforts amount to anything. The visual proof of Eugene relaxing and dropping into a submissive headspace gives Sidney a sense of control, it allows him to focus on Eugene and his needs, and meetin those needs is the most satisfyin thing for Sid.

Sidney/Hoosier: idk I always got the feeling that Hoosier was an important person to Sid, like he looked up to Bill, and then Bill realized that and felt a need to protect and guide Sid. This is all based on the scene at the end of the first episode where Hoosier asks how old Sidney is turning, I look at Hoosier's face as Sidney says 18 and I see NEED and WANT and ACHE in his eyes in every scene after that they share.

Sidney/Chuckler & Sidney/Runner: I just think they're cute together. That's it. With Lew I can see Sid letting Chuckler take a bit more control, more so in the way of learning from Lew and not so much the Dom/Sub type dynamic that Sid/Gene, and Sid/Hoosier have. Like Chuckler is teaching him how to be with a man, and Sidney is so eager to know everything about it. With Runner it's very much giggly-handsy-goofy intimacy, they're making mistakes and laughing about it, maybe accidentally hurting each other a little but it's okay because they both make it up to each other later with softness and jokes and the giddy "I can't believe we're doing this god it feels so good" strangling feeling

See this post of me complaining about the lack of fic for Sid/---

FOR THE HEADCANONS YES I HAVE MANY BUT THEY'RE SO DUMB-

It took him so long to learn how to ride a bike, Eugene made fun of him ofc but he also held him upright while Sid peddled very slowly until he could get enough momentum to go on his own. His primary way of stopping was jumping off into the grass, hey, the brakes were scary!

He is a Mama's Boy to the end. "Sorry, my mama said no." "Mama would love these flowers, Gene slow down, I need to pick these." "Good morning Mama, I cut up some fruit for you for breakfast." THE LIST GOES ON- He loves her with all his heart.

Him and Mary have an open relationship (very progressive for the 40s-50s I knowwwww) and they both know about each others attraction to their own genders: Mary has a couple of girls she messes around with, and Sid of course has Eugene. Sid, Mary, and Gene had a discussion about Gene joining them in bed, but Eugene is very much not into women. He assured Mary that she is still stunning as ever, just not his cup of tea these days, he'd have jumped all over the chance when he was 16 but now? No, but thank you Mrs. Houston-Phillips.

He builds and donates bird and bat houses to the local town hall, where people can pick one or two up and hang them in place of a recently downed tree. Sid is a sucker for flighted animals, it drives Mary crazy sometimes, all the chirping and squallering from birds at the bird feeders Sid has hung outside every window, but they make Sid happy so she always picks up a bag of bird feed every time she heads into town, just to see Sid's eye light up at her thoughtfulness.

That's just a couple that I can actually put into words lmao

#thank you sosossosososos fuckin much #you know how fun it is to answer asks #sidney phillips #eugene sledge #bill hoosier smith #wilbur runner conley #lewis chuckler juergens #mary houston #the pacific #buck builds

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m-jelly · 2 years

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How about this for small town Levi - I can’t stop thinking about Levi who quits his fancy job at Erwin’s company to move to a small town to open up a tea room (I can just imagine him in a village somewhere in the Lake or Peak Districts where it’s quiet but gets a lot of tourists too!).

He’d surprise you with photos of a cute lil cottage, and take you to get all his old suits donated. 💕 You would have been so worried because he had spent months working extra long hours to save up and prepare.

You’d serve all sorts of homemade sandwiches, baked treats and afternoon tea. He’d only source the best loose tea, of course, he would not be caught dead serving anything in a tea bag. He would also get you trained to use the espresso machine, because in his words “I’m not dealing with that shit”, but he knows people will be asking for coffee too! You would eventually convince him to wear cute aprons together. 💕

I can see a lush garden in the back with comfy outdoor seating and water bowls for doggies. When it rains he’d have one of those large covers that he’ll roll out so that people can still sit outside.

Okay this got out of hand, I was only going to send you the first paragraph 🤣

Cottage life 🥰😍 British countryside life is wonderful. As someone who grew up in that life it was amazing. We'd go to a local waterfall and swim in it. You'd lie on a blanket under an oak tree. It's just magical 🥰

The lake District is stunning!! I love going there so much.

You know he'd want the quiet life, so getting the opportunity to just sell everything and live in the country is a dream for you both and you'd work together to raise as much money as possible.

You'd bake for the cafe because Levi says your baking is the best and no one can beat it!

He'd happily wear a cute apron with you because he's the type of man who'd love to match with you 🥰

The coffee machine is his worst enemy, so you better get to know it big time because if you don't he will break it.

He would totally get dogs so he can go on long walks with them and you. You'd be out walking often and be out in the garden often as well working on your home grown veg and fruit 💕

He'd make a little space where you can sit in outside so you don't get rained on. Fresh rain smells nice, so expect cuddles when it does rain and your under the cover.

The fireplace!! So many snuggles by it in winter.

#levi #levi ackerman #fanfic #levi fanfiction #aot fanfiction #snk levi #aot levi #levi x y/n #levi x you #aot x you #jelly fanfics #jelly.asks #levi x reader fluff #levi x reader

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thedaughtersofaewora · 2 years

Text

“There's pretty girls on every corner that watch him as he's walking home saying, "Does he know?" Will you ever know?” (Stay Beautiful - Taylor Swift)

My parents met in their first year at Red Earth College, 1992. My sister Heaven even wrote about their meeting on her online blog, “located in the middle of the Northern Ontario city where mother was raised.”

Why did my princely father choose to attend Red Earth College in Canada? He never specified it himself. There are some theories. Of course there were much better schooling options elsewhere. His siblings, even his twin, attended private colleges back in the kingdom. Was it because of the fact that his mother (my queen grandmother) was to attend that very same Canadian college but then plans changed for her in life? It is a possibility. Even she could not wrap her head around his choice. Even though she never attended it’s classes, Red Earth College held unpleasant memories for her. Her first husband, that Professor-turned murderer.

And I’m not surprised one bit to learn my father was the most popular person at Red Earth College. He was famous royalty and that concealed the darkness of his mother’s first husband’s grim memory. “Now that college has worthy alumni to brag about.” One might even say. When the word got out, the paparazzi immediately popped up and it got so erratic the college had to tighten it’s security.

He was a gentleman even back then. Opening and holding doors for people passing in and out of buildings. Handling out free umbrellas in the rain, umbrellas that he paid for himself. He bought all kinds of essentials and put them in bags and handed them to the students outside the college for free. He was always there for them, supporting financially and emotionally. He always helped the teachers and other workers of the college in every way he possibly can, whether it was big or small. He had donated large sums of money to the college and to whatever fundraisers they held. The college always thanked him publicly but he hated the recognition because he know the media will get a hold of it and that it was something that needed to be done, something that he thought he shouldn’t be acknowledged and congratulated for. He wasn’t a performative man doing fake acts to raise his image. He did things from the good of his heart.

Have the men secretly envied him? Wanted to be like him? Probably, there should have been a few. They must’ve kept that to themselves. But a lot of men there spoke greatly of him. As if he was their best bud. Oh, those Canadian ladies, that is a big can to open. Not any different than Aeworan ladies in their infatuation, they were always on to father. Always following him around wherever he went, wanting to be near The Prince of Aewora every second. He couldn’t really study in the library, because he knew he’d attract a loud crowd which would have disturb the poor people studying and reading. Father always made the girls’ hearts skip a beat when he shot a glance at their direction. They gave goofy smiles when he flashed his dazzling dimpled smile at them. The girls loved his nice little dimple. He politely turned down many marriage proposals.

“He wasn’t out there flirting and dating a different lady each night. He wasn’t one to get into a random woman’s heart and then throw it in the trash the next day as if it were nothing.”

The bad did happen during his time at that place. Sexual harassment, taking photos without his permission and selling them, getting chased and stalked by mad fans. Girls fighting each other because they wanted him for themselves, crowds of them waiting outside his door for a glance of him, like the wild paparazzis. The list goes on. The most positive memory of all, was his meeting my mother, Annika Hayashi.

Her hair was a brighter shade of red when my father first saw her. She looked exactly like her daughter, Heaven. Funny thing is that my father thought that red-haired girls were not attractive. He preferred black haired brunettes, for they were much better than redheads. Or so he thought. And Momma proved him wrong, so did their first daughter that was to be born years later. Momma was simply one of the “quiet and unpopular” in high school. And in college, it changed for her.

There was a crowd surrounding my father, as usual, that day outside the campus building. They said as my mother walked out of the building, my father looked at her, an intense look in his eyes, curiosity and full of wonder.

As soon as my mother caught his stare, she immediately turned her head away as if shy and easily embarrassed. The boy who was staring at her was overwhelmingly handsome, and she knew he was royalty. Her cheeks a deeper shade of red than ever before, redder than her hair. She was just a mere commoner girl. Why would a prince find her fascinating? One of the buds in the group knew what was going on and urged my father to go to that girl before she runs away. My father went up and talked to her first.

“Hello there, pretty girl!”

Momma remembers that exact startling moment very well. Then, noticing her confusion, father apologized. Momma loved that he was so sensitive, caring, and aware of her emotions. “No, It’s okay...” she almost trailed off but managed a quiet “Hi there.”

“Pretty! He thinks I’m pretty!”

It didn’t take very long for the prince to fall in love with this ordinary commoner girl. No, she was more than ordinary. This short, red-haired girl with the doe bronze eyes was special, extraordinary, suddenly important, a need to have in his life.

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harrysgoldenline · 3 years

Note

can you pls write an angst where y/n went to her and harry's house that they bought or something like that in Italy to try to move on and go on with her life after harry broke up with her but then she never expected that harry will be there as well with his new gf.... you can end it whatever you like!! thank you

Word Count: 1.6K

Warnings: idk, sad I guess? also not proof read oops sorry lol

When In Italy

It has been three months since you’ve last seen or spoken to Harry. A very abrupt change after being together for four years, with constant talk of marriage and starting a family, the break up was something either of you really expected. It started as a break of sorts, eventually turning into a complete break up after only a couple weeks in a somewhat mutual way. With Harry's career taking off in so many different ways, with acting, the new tour and more, his life had changed completely and has left him very little time for anything else.

It went from daily phone and FaceTime calls, constant text messages and flowers being delivered to nothing.

“You really think that’s a good idea?” Your best friend asked you, concern plastered all over her face, “that won’t bring up too much?”

She had been sitting with you as you finished packing up your suitcase, trying her best to give you her support as you were going to be going on a spur of the moment trip to Italy and staying at the home of you and Harry, needing the much needed getaway and disconnecting completely. Seeing different things online about him all the time didn’t make it any easier and no matter how hard you tried to avoid it, he always found his way to pop up.

“I just need a break, everything here is a reminder to.” You sigh, “I just want a change of scenery. I think it’ll be good for me.”

“I hope so…” she frowned, looking up at you with a sad smile, “please don’t just sit there in the house all alone. Go out, meet some local Italian men!”

“I’m definitely not ready for that.” You say, forcing a laugh as you close your suitcase, zipping it up and placing it on the floor by your door, “but I will really try, I promise. I will call you if I need you and you can come out?”

“Hell yeah I can.” She laughs, standing up and giving you a hug, “and you’re really going right now?”

You bite your bottom lip as your eyes fill up with tears, nodding quickly as you look at her and she quickly pulled you in a tight hug.

“You can do this.”

***

You pulled your suitcase through the front door, waving goodbye to the driver as you turned around to close the door behind you as they left you alone in the house that has so many memories inside. You pause at the door, taking a couple deep breaths as you look around and try and keep your mind at bay before walking to the guest bedroom, deciding the main bedroom was too much and the guest bedroom was already way nicer than your apartment.

After taking the time to unpack, knowing you would stay awhile, you put away your things into the various drawers and closet in the room. You keep out a swimsuit and change into it quickly, sliding a simple dress overtop before walking out onto the balcony attached to the bedroom, taking in the smell of the ocean and beautiful view, memories overwhelming your senses.

“Well don’t you look absolutely stunning.” You can practically hear him say all over again, reliving the memory as if it was actually happening, “ ‘m the luckiest man in the world.”

You remember him coming up behind you, arms tight around your waist as his head rested on your shoulder, soft kisses being pressed along your shoulder as you leaned back into him, a large smile covering both of your faces before you leaned your head back, connecting your lips before he pulled back.

“I can’t decide…” He had whispered, connecting your lips again.

“Decide what?” You had giggled, turning around to face him, arms resting around his shoulders as his came around your waist.

“If I want to get married here or have our honeymoon here.”

You shuddered slightly as the memory came back, letting out a deep breath before packing a beach bag quickly and leaving the house just as fast, taking a walk down to the private beach and settling yourself in a lounge chair. Applying your sunscreen you could almost convince yourself it was him applying it on you like he always would do, large hands massaging it into your skin.

You push the thought away as you grab your phone, playing music softly to try and distract your mind. Your fingers hovered over your different social media apps, wanting desperately to just give it a quick click, wondering if you could get any update on where he could be from his fans, posts always finding their way on your feed. Instead, you hold it down, deleting all of the various apps and throwing your phone down on your bag, grabbing your book and letting the music play, opening to the first page to try and escape into the new world.

***

After a few hours been spent peacefully on the beach, you decided to head back to the house to take a nice bubblebath and order yourself some dinner, deciding that you would go to town the next morning in order to cook some of your own meals. The walk back to the house was more enjoyable this time and you began to feel a sense of hope as you approached the house, your heart not clenching in as much pain as it originally had done when you first pulled up to the house earlier that day.

Using your keys, you unlocked the back door, locking it behind you again as soon as you got inside, making your way to the bathroom right away and letting the water fill up the bathtub, pouring in some of the fancy bubblebath that you remember buying once from your favorite boutique in town, making a mental note to stop there again tomorrow.

Discarding your clothes, you hung them up, deciding you could use it once more as a cover up after not even going into the water, and you honestly didn’t even have the energy to even think about doing laundry right now, even simply showering was too much most days so you were happy to submerge yourself simply into the warm water, eyes fluttering closed as it embraced you with it’s comfort.

You began preparing yourself a mental list of things you could do tomorrow, forcing yourself to get out of the house and keep yourself occupied after locking yourself away in your apartment the past few months, planning on taking baby steps but knowing that even starting will be more like a push off a cliff.

Pulling yourself out of the bath once finishing cleansing your body, deciding to save washing your hair for the next day, you pulled yourself out of the bath, honestly just wanting to curl up into bed and go to sleep but knowing you needed to force yourself to eat something. So, you dry off, applying some matching lotion to your body, which made you feel a sense of pride of yourself as you made small steps to take care of yourself again, thanking the air of Italy as self motivation and threw on the robe that you swear was the softest one in the world.

A sudden sound coming from the house made you jump, a hand coming over your chest to try and calm your racing heart as your mind tried to think of all of the possibilities of who could be there, or maybe it was coming outside? Or honestly at this point you thought it could be your imagination as the memories that have been flashing into your mind have been so vivid it felt like it was actually happening. Your feet softly padded on the wood flooring, making your way to what you thought was the site of the sound, feeling bile rise in your throat at the sight before you.

It was Harry there, with one of the most beautiful women you had ever seen in your life, laughing together.

You weren’t sure if they saw you, both of their hair wet as towels wrapped around them and it seemed like they had just got back from the beach, making you think that you must have just missed each other as you swapped positions. You slowly walk backwards, thinking of running out the back towards the beach and calling a car, leaving all of your clothes there.

You could see slightly into the master bedroom, seeing their suitcases sprawled and things laid on the couch as they chatted together, knowing they must have arrived when you were down at the beach, your presence unknown as all of your things sat seemingly hidden in the guest room which you were now desperately trying to go and hide in, but after it being too log since you been here, you accidentally ran into the wall, a photo that was hanging there crashing to the floor, glass shattering.

Two heads quickly snapped their way towards you, both pairs of eyes meeting yours as gasps left both of their lips, Harry’s face going pale as he saw you. You opened your mouth to speak, but with this being your first time seeing your partner since the breakup, no words were able to come out.

Spinning on your heel your ran back into the guest bedroom, pulling the suitcase out of the closet and messily shoving all of your clothes into it, tears stinging your eyes and unable to hold them in as they silently spilling on you cheeks, more coming as you heard the familiar steps coming your way, feeling the presence behind you and hearing the door shut softly behind you.

“Y/N?”

—————————————————————————

Part 2 anyone???

ALSO PLEASE READ THIS!!

I was wondering what people would think about me doing personalized little blurbs/imagines for people who donate to my tip jar? you could give me your name, prompt, pronouns, etc and i will write it just for you!! :) i’m trying to write more and it’s hard bc i’m a broke college student who needs to work but if people who WANT a personalized little fic with bucky or harry or something with their own name and such maybe I could do something like that? of course I will still be doing all normal requests and such but this way it’s kinda like a one time patreon for people who want to do something like that? idk please comment/send me a message/ask and let me know what you think!!!! let’s talk!

#harry styles imagine #harry styles angst #harry styles blurb #harry styles fan fic #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles imagines #harry styles headcannon #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles series #harry styles writing #harry styles request #fic rec #harry styles #harry styles dirty imagine #harry styles one shot

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ragingbookdragon · 3 years

Text

A Heart That's Been Broken Is A Heart That's Been Loved

Bruce Wayne x Reader One-Shot

Word Count: 1.1K Warnings: Angst

Author's Note: I saw a video of a young man at his wedding listening to the heart of his deceased brother still beating in the woman's chest who received it. This idea sprung from it. -Thorne

**********************************************************************

She paced nervously on the front steps of Wayne Manor, heart leaping up and down her throat as she mentally repeated the conversation in her head. The documents in her purse felt like bricks and she hefted the bag higher onto her shoulder, swallowing her anxiety as the lock flicked and the door opened, revealing an older man, probably late fifties early sixties.

Smiling anxiously, she greeted, “Good morning, sir. How are you doing today?”

He returned her smile with a polite one of his own. “I am doing well this morning, thank you. And you?”

“I’ve seen birds more calm than I am,” she laughed, probably a little too hard, and stuck out her hand. “My name is (Y/N) (L/N). I was wondering if I could speak to Mister Wayne? If he’s in?”

The man frowned. “Master Bruce is in the breakfast room with his family at the moment. May I ask your business with him?”

(Y/N) reached into her bag and pulled out the documents, handing them to him. “It involves his mother, Martha Wayne. More importantly the organ transplant she gave some three and a half decades ago.”

He met her gaze and handed the documents back. “Please follow me.”

She nodded and entered the manor, the scent of cinnamon and fresh linen wafting up her nose. Shutting the door behind her, she let the man escort her through the foyer and through the hall into the kitchen where she was met with the sight of Bruce Wayne and all six of his children.

Their forks stopped when the man entered with her and he said, “Master Bruce, this young woman is here to speak with you. Her name is (Y/N) (L/N).”

Bruce wiped his mouth on his napkin and rose to his feet, shaking her hand. “Good morning, Miss (L/N).”

“Oh, please, call me (Y/N),” she smiled.

“(Y/N),” he corrected, matching her expression. “Alfred doesn’t usually let people into the manor, so I’m assuming you’ve something important to speak to me about?”

She nodded, clearing her throat when she felt the weight of the children’s stares. “Um, yes, Mister Wayne.” Reaching back into her purse, she pulled out the documents once more, but held them in her hands. “I don’t know how to say this lightly and I wish I did, but I felt like you should know.”

She handed them over, watching as he took them with a confused look and started reading. “Thirty-six years ago, your mother Martha Wayne donated her organs after she perished.” (Y/N) reached up, unbuttoning the first few buttons of her shirt, a healed scar peaking through the top of her bra. “Thirty-six years ago, I was severely wounded in a home robbery at nine. I received your mother’s heart.”

Bruce’s hands started to shake around the paper, and she murmured, “I’ve spent a long time trying to get the documentation, so I could come here and show you.” (Y/N) stuck her hand into her purse and pulled out a stethoscope. “Would you like to listen?”

He nodded, swallowing thickly, not trusting his words to accept for him and she handed it over, watching as he put it in his ears then lifted the chest-piece to the center of her chest; she didn’t dare make a sound as she breathed and his eyes suddenly went wide, filling with tears, then snapped shut and he brought a hand up to his face, covering his eyes.

(Y/N) felt tears of her own grow in her vision and she grasped his shoulders, squeezing them as tightly as she could, whispering, “I know your parents dying was traumatic, but your mother gave me life again. I’m alive because of Martha Wayne.”

“I never thought I’d hear mother’s heartbeat again,” he cried softly and wiped his eyes, though the tears kept coming; he sniffed harshly as he looked at her, a wobbly smile coming over his lips. “Thank you,” he breathed, a choked laugh escaping him, and he couldn’t help but shift the chest-piece, placing his palm right beside it.

She felt her heart rate pick up, thumping strongly against his hand and the two of them smiled at one another, tears running down their cheeks. “Of course,” she replied. “You have every right to hear her heart again.”

Bruce’s jaw clenched slightly as he tried to keep more tears at bay, and he shook his head. “It’s your heart. It’s both your hearts.” His thumb brushed tentatively over the scar. “I never knew mother’s organs had been donated…I’m glad they were. It’s what she would’ve wanted.”

“She and your father saved many lives with their donations,” (Y/N) replied. “I’m sure you could find out who, but I know they were the saviors of many.”

She watched Bruce remove his hand and the stethoscope, pulling out the earpieces; he wrapped it up and handed it back to her, along with the documents and she returned them to her purse, finally wiping her face.

“Thank you for letting me come here, Mister Wayne,” she said. “Thank you for giving me your time.”

He shook his head. “I’m the one who should be thanking you. You’ve given me a great gift.” When she looked at him curiously, he murmured, “My mother lives on. Her heart beats strongly in another woman just as beautiful and wonderful as she was.”

(Y/N) felt her cheeks warm and she replied, “I hope I do her justice like you’ve said.” She reached out, intent to shake his hand, but Bruce pulled her into a strong hug; a smile crossed her lips, and she wrapped her arms around his middle, squeezing him tightly, whispering, “If you ever want to listen again. You can find me at Gotham University English Department. You’re welcome anytime.”

Bruce pulled away, hands still on her shoulders. “I might take you up on that offer.”

She smiled, eyes still a bit damp, and glanced at his children, some of whom had shed tears, and some had unshed tears in their eyes; she nodded at them, waving at a particular one. “Good morning, Timothy.”

He weakly waved, cheeks tear-stained. “Morning Professor (L/N).”

Smiling at them, she hugged Bruce once more and turned, heading for the door, though she briefly paused and faced the family once more. “There is no love like that of a mother’s. Whose love is everlasting, even after she has long been reclaimed by the earth. She exists in all she created, in all she touched. We are never without her, for she is ever with us.”

(Y/N) tipped her head, “Have a wonderful day,” and left.

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ventihonklightice · 3 years

Text

period pains || sapnap

Sapnap x fem!reader

Word count: 1.5k words

Summary: Sapnap, being the amazing, super, terrific boyfriend he is, went to buy y/n tampons. needless to say, she got plenty.

Moving in with Sapnap and Dream was exciting. It got to the point where Y/n was at their house almost everyday, so it was an easy acclimation. At first, Y/n was nervous about how living with her boyfriend’s best friend would work, but it was surprisingly more manageable than she thought. She wasn’t nervous about walking around Dream anymore, though her cheeks would glow a particular shade of red after late night rendezvous with Sapnap that he pretended to not hear. Little did she know, he spared her the mockery by privately doing so to Sapnap.

Currently though on a somewhat cloudy Florida day, her boyfriend was out with said best friend and roommate before the Texan received a text.

y/n <3

do you love me

He put down his drink at the sight of the notification popping up on his phone, quirking a brow at his girlfriend’s words while his friend proceeded to eat his meal.

sappy pandas

of course I do

where’s this coming from?

Sapnap was slightly concerned, knowing Y/n to be more reserved when asking for his affirmation of love.

y/n <3

since you love me

can you pretty pretty pretty pls

get me tampons

and stuff

I am suffering

He chuckled at the multiple text bubbles that appeared on his screen, causing Dream to divert his attention from his food to his friend’s phone.

sappy pandas

oh shit

I’m sorry :((

We’ll be back in 30 or 40 minutes <3

Y/N groaned, not being able to take the pain any longer and just wanting cuddles with her boyfriend, though regardless, she appreciated his actions.

y/n <3

omg thank you

thank you

I love you so much

Sapnap smiled widely, quickly moving his fingers to text a reply. “Y/n?” Dream asked, taking yet another bite. Sapnap just nodded his head, focused on his girl.

sappy pandas

yeah yeah love you too baby

“Can we stop by Walgreens or something on the way back? She needs stuff,” he spoke to Dream who was currently scarfing down the rest of the food. He nodded his head, still chewing.

“Also, can we order her food?” Sapnap asked shyly. Dream chuckled at the comment, “oh so now I’m both your AND her sugar daddy? I’m going broke because of you two.”

Sapnap blushed, feeling bad about making the blond pay even though he almost always insisted. “I-I’ll pay for it dude, it’s not a big deal.”

Dream shook his head, taking a sip of his soda, “no. Never. I literally asked you to come here, I’m not making you pay for shit.”

The waitress came back, taking the plates and asking if we’d like a check, with the boys instead asking for a menu.

Half an our later, the pair was going across the street of the restaurant and to the drugstore. “What does she need anyways?” Dream asked, following Sapnap’s footsteps.

“Tampons and stuff,” he almost whispered, uncomfortable with the words and also not wanting others to hear him mutter them. “Oh,” Dream answered shortly as they made a bee line to the ‘feminine hygiene’ aisle. Needless to say, the men were overwhelmed.

“Why are there so many?” Sapnap asked as his eyes scanned over various pink and purple packages. “Text her and ask her exactly what she needs,” Dream suggested, eyes also scanning the products before him.

It had been five minutes and Y/N had yet to respond. Sapnap groaned, “what do I do?” His friend shrugged before a very dumb idea crossed his mind. “Just like, get a bunch.”

Sapnap looked at his friend and blinked before speaking “that’s a great idea.” They went to go grab a shopping cart before they began to fill it with various types of cotton.

“No, Sapnap that’s underwear,” Dream spoke as he saw his friend grab diaper like underwear, “it’s for bladder problems or something.”

Sapnap quickly put it back before looking at tampax, “okay but these are definitely tampons.” He grabbed those, along with several other brands and sizes. He moved onto pads, doing the exact same thing.

“This looks... fine,” Sapnap spoke as he examined the sheer amount of cotton recently thrown into the cart. He pushed the cart until reaching the candy aisle. He wanted to buy her some in hopes of making her feel better. So, he took various chocolates alongside her favorite candy and went to go grab pain relievers before approaching the register.

The cashier looked between the cart and the two men scurrying to put the period products onto the counter, forcing a muffled laugh out of Dream. “Find everything okay?” She muttered, scanning the items that Sapnap began to place on the counter, a line forming behind them.

“Uh y-yes thank you,” Sapnap stuttered, placing the candy down last.

“That’s gonna be $198.46,” she expressed as Sapnap fumbled with his debit card, Dream already carrying most of the bags. The two men hurriedly left the store.

“That was so embarrassing. There was a line and everything, oh my god those people must think I’m crazy,” Sapnap muttered, rubbing his hands over his face.

“This-This is definitely a little overboard,” Dream spoke as he slammed the trunk closed.

“It’s fine. This is fine. I don’t want her to like, not have the stuff she needs. I’d feel awful,” Sapnap spoke as he opened the passenger seat door. “Whatever you say pandas.”

Never receiving a text from Y/N, Sapnap assumed that she had been asleep. Dream helped him carry the various bags of tampons and food into the house, but thought it’d be best to let his friend carry them to his girlfriend.

So, Sapnap did so, just very loudly. He stumbled into the bedroom, his eyes landing on his girlfriend. Through the ruffling of the bags and his loud footsteps she began to stir about. “Sapnap?” She mumbled tiredly, his form looking like a blob in her sleepy daze.

“Shit, I didn’t mean to wake you up,” he whispered, gently placing down the bags by his bed before leaning over to kiss her forehead.

“Did you go to the store?” She asked, her eyes opening more and more. He scratched his neck as he looked at the bags, “yeah. I just- I just didn’t know what you needed so...”

His voice trailed off as he bent down to grab the bags, “I kind of bought a lot.” Y/N sat up slowly examining the bags with wide eyes, a hand covering her mouth to stifle her laughs.

“Baby,” she giggled, moving to get up to go towards the bags before Sapnap stopped her. “Stay put, I’ll bring the bags to you m’lady,” he spoke with a posh British accent on his last word. Y/n smiled and watched as he grabbed the bags and tossed them by her legs, finally settling onto the bed next to her.

“This is so much,” she muttered going through bag after bag, “you are so sweet.”

Sapnap turned red at her words, watching her go through them to find what she needed, “w-we could donate them or something?”

Y/n let out a scoff, stopping her movements to look at him, “literally the sweetest man. How’d I get this lucky?”

“Yeah I’m literally perfect,” Sapnap spoke sarcastically, leaning his head on her shoulder. Y/n giggled once more, finding the bag that had the reciept and pulling out the long pice of paper. Her eyes went wide as she looked at the total, “two hundred dollars!”

Sapnap snatched up the receipt before she could examine it further, “don’t worry about it.”

Y/n shook her head proceeding to dig through the bags, “and you got me candy? And medicine?”

Her eyes began to tear up as she threw her arms around Sapnap, startling him. “It was nothing,” he muttered softly, wrapping his arms around her torso gently.

“You’re the first guy that’s ever done this for me. Actually care and shit,” she sniffled, her words muffled in his chest. Sapnap’s eyes softened and he carded his fingers through her hair, “well it’s cause I love you and I think you deserve the world. And if making a Walgreens go tampon bankrupt does that, then I’m okay with it.”

Y/n chuckled at his words, pulling away to wipe tears off her face. “I love you too,” she expressed with a slightly exhausted tone. A soft smile appeared on the Texan’s features,

“D-Do you want me to run a bath or something? Or we got you food. It’s in the kitchen and I’ll grab it if you want,” he explained as he laid back onto the beg, dragging Y/n with him softly.

“Can we just lay here for a minute?” Y/n asked, snuggling further into his chest.

“Whatever you want, baby,” he mumbled, kissing the top of her head. He continued to run his fingers through her hair, eventually hearing light and steady snores from the girl on his chest. He couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.

#sapnap imagine #Sapnap x reader #Sapnap fanfiction #Sapnap fanfic #dreamwastaken imagine #dreamwastaken #dream smp #Sapnap #Sapnap x Dream #dream #mcyt #sapnap fluff

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n0bamak1s · 3 years

Text

whisper of the heart- megumi fushiguro x reader

summary: you begin to take notice of the name “megumi fushiguro” on all the tops of your library checkout cards. a semi-retelling of whisper of the heart featuring you and megumi. (genre: fluff, high school au, meet cute)

warnings: none! except maybe slightly ooc megumi

word count: 3.2k

a/n: hi everyone! ty all again for being so patient with me publishing this. i’ve been very busy with college apps lately, but i’m gonna try to keep this blog as active as i can while balancing it with school life. anyways, i had a lot of fun writing this, but i’m definitely not used to writing megumi, so feel free to leave feedback ^^ i also changed some details from the original movie and left it a bit open ended, so feel free to let me know if you want a part 2!

“who the hell is megumi fushiguro?”

your gaze was fixed on the faded ink reading the now all too familiar characters. the characters spelling out a name that managed to keep showing up on the yellow tinted checkout cards tucked into the books you borrowed.

nobara glanced over your shoulder, inspecting the piece of cardstock tucked between your fingers. wrinkling her nose in disgust, she plucked the card from you, holding it closer to her face.

“whoever it is, they have terrible handwriting.” she stuck her nose up, turning back to you with a playful smile. “i don’t know how you managed to get ‘megumi fushiguro’ out of that chicken scratch.” a face of mock distress crossed her features as she did air quotes around the name, as if she couldn’t believe such a delicate name would be given to someone with such handwriting. she’s always had a tendency to be a bit over dramatic about trivial stuff like this.

with nothing more than a huff in response, you snatched back the card, tucking it neatly back into your library book. your fingers grazed the worn down cover for a moment, gliding along the slight tears around the corners and the stiffness of the yellowing pages.

‘i wonder how many of these creases came from megumi fushiguro?’

“whoever it is, it seems like that name shows up in every book i check out in the library.”

nobara kicked a rock as she walked, leaving a small cloud of dust around her feet. “maybe you’re just imagining it. you always stay up so late doing whatever the hell it is you do in your free time that you’ve probably begun to hallucinate.” she nudged you playfully, eliciting a dead pan expression from you.

“i’m serious nobara. i mean, i’ve never really believed in fate but there’s no way it’s completely coincidental!”

she raised an eyebrow, as if to say you can’t be serious. “i think you’ve been reading too many romance novels, for all you know this person could totally be just some weird old guy with nothing better to do than visit the library.”

“hey!” you acted as if that last bit was a personal attack on you, and knowing nobara it probably was. “i’m not saying this megumi fushiguro person is my soulmate or anything, i just think it’s a very strange coincidence.” you shrugged off your backpack as you talked, putting away your book. noticing the suspiciously light weight of your bag, you rummaged your fingers around for a moment to find that your sketchbook had gone missing.

crap.

nobara turned to you, perceptive as ever of your suddenly altered demeanor. “forget something again?” it was almost annoying sometimes how well she knew you. was it really that obvious?

“just my sketchbook,” your hands rifled through your bag one final time to make sure you really didn’t have it “probably left it on the park bench or something, it’ll just be a minute to get it.” you turned to her with a sheepish smile, silently pleading her to follow you there. she stared blankly at you for a moment, probably having one of her internal monologues about how lucky you were to have her as a friend, before rolling her eyes and following suit.

“this better be quick, i have places to be you know!”

“no you don’t.” you turned around before you could meet her melodramatic glare.

behind you, you could hear her huff of dissatisfaction, though she made no move to leave, reassuming her position next to you, giving you a gentle nudge as she brushed next to you.

as you walked, the sunlight peeking between trees framing your pathway began to warm your face, highlighting the ends of your eyelashes and the tops of your cheeks with the warm glow of the first hints of summer time. for a moment, you closed your eyes, letting yourself be enveloped in it, before your fleeting thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a bike coming in your direction. you felt as if you’d jump out of your own skin in that moment, hearing a “move out of the way!” from a husky, disembodied voice.

it probably looked pretty ridiculous how you jumped out of the way, kicking up a fleeting cloud of dust as you avoided the sudden presence of the biker. grounding yourself, your eyes flickered up to the source of the voice, being met with the gaze of stormy blue eyes, framed by long, dark eyelashes that nobara would most definitely be envious of. taking in the boy’s whole figure, your eyes were drawn to the messy black hair atop his head, formed at the ends into contradictorily gentle looking spikes. the sleeves of his white button down were rolled up taut around his forearms, leading your gaze to his hands wrapped tightly around the bike handles.

oh, right. he’s still biking.

you turned your focus back to keeping to your side of the path momentarily, before the sight of your name written atop the sketchbook peeking out of his bag came into your field of vision as he continued to move past you. before you had time to think rationally, you turned to his now retreating form, breaking into a jog, kicking up a few more dust clouds as you did.

ignoring nobara’s incredulous calling of your name, you tried to call to the boy who had no intention of slowing down. “excuse me!” you cupped a hand around your mouth, hoping to project your voice louder. “hey!” the irritation in your voice was clear, but you breathed a small sigh of relief as the bike slowed to a stop, and the spike headed boy turned to your direction.

after an awkward moment of your continued jogging to him while he stood with a blank expression, you stopped in front of him, an accusatory look grazing your features.

“i think you have something of mine.” you tried your best to imitate the confident attitude you always admired from nobara, placing a hand on your hip and using the other one to point to his bag. his gaze followed the direction of where you pointed, his eyebrows raised while the rest of his face remained stagnant.

“oh, this?” he tugged the cardboard covered sketchbook out of the pocket it had been placed in, examining the cover. his eyes flickered between your name written in the top corner, and your currently annoyed looking face, as if he was playing some sort of word association game. you simply nodded in response, anticipation clear in your actions.

as he held out the sketchbook to you, he leaned down so his face was closer to you, as if to tell you a secret, voice low and eyes trained on you. “you should be more careful next time. you’re lucky i’m nice enough to not just steal this from you right now.”

you didn’t have an explanation as to why your heart began to race.

taking your silence as a response, he pushed it into your hands, his fingers brushing against yours gently. “nice drawings by the way, i recognize your friend over there from the portrait you drew of her on the first page.” his face remained stoic as he pointed at nobara, who was tapping her foot in boredom.

face warm from embarrassment, you snatched the sketchbook from where his hands lingered on it, muttering a bitter sounding “thanks” before stalking over to nobara once more, who looked relieved that she’d finally be able to go wherever it was she was going to.

“what an asshole.” you glared at him over your shoulder as he biked away, your gaze lingering a second too long for someone so insistent on hating him. nobara shook her head in response, clearly annoyed at your own obliviousness after witnessing the whole interaction.

a smug smile crossed her soft features. “maybe that’s megumi fushiguro.”

you raised a brow as you glanced at her. “as if!”

despite your insistence on your distaste for the mystery boy, he managed to have flooded your thoughts. ‘he must be using sorcery or something to keep himself on my mind, weirdo.’

still, you couldn’t deny how just a few more of your portraits were accented by ocean blue eyes, or pointed ends to the different mops of hair you sketched. how did you manage to keep attracting mystery people into your life?

when you returned to the library, you gripped a thick science fiction novel, the pages brushing your soft fingers as your marched it up to the checkout counter. as the librarian wrote the date on a small piece of cardstock, you took note of the fact that your name would be the first one there. had megumi fushiguro missed out on this one?

a pleasant smile stretched across your face as the librarian handed the book back to you. scrawling your name at the top of the checkout card, your eyes flickered to a stamp of ink beneath the slot for it.

donated by fushiguro.

of course it was.

the library door squeaked quietly as you pushed it open, one hand on the door, and the other placing your new book in your backpack. zipping it up and throwing it over your shoulder, you were met with the feeling of a dog sniffing your leg. your eyes trailed down to a dog almost akin to a small polar bear brushing its nose against your calf. reaching your hand to scratch softly against the back of his head, you coo gently at the not-so-little little guy.

“what’s got you all by yourself buddy?” an involuntary smile creeps onto your face at how he calms at your pats.

wordlessly, obviously considering this is a dog, he turns and walks a few steps forward, before pausing and tilting just his fur covered face toward you, egging you on to follow him just as you had the other day with nobara. you considered for a moment, before shrugging and giving in to his pretty minimal amount of convincing. nobara would be out getting lunch with maki today anyways, so you could use something to do today. after all, it could be fate.

it was almost as if you were one of those people who walked their dog without a lash, but in reality, it was more like the dog was walking you as it lead you down tall, sidewalk-lined hills and through parks filled with young parents having picnics with their children and couples going on walks. you wondered to yourself if this was a worthwhile excursion, was he just leading you to a dead end, or worse, was he some dog trained by a gang to lure people into danger?

after walking a few minutes more, you found out the spot you were being lead to was, in fact, even worse then both the possibilities you’d been brainstorming in your head, when you were met at the bottom of another hill with the stoic expression of that spike head. his eyes softened at the sight of the dog, a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips that quickly vanished as he met your gaze, his eyes hardened in contrast with the bashfulness that shone on his cheeks.

“oh, you found him. thanks for that.” he cleared his throat awkwardly, shifting his gaze back to the dog. you shifted your weight from one foot to the other. to be fair though, what did you expect you’d do when you found where the dog was leading you?

“i should probably go.” your usually collected demeanor had been replaced with that of a puppy with its tail tucked between its legs. with a stiff wave, you took your leave, turning on your heel.

“wait.” his voice wavered, as if trying to catch himself before he spoke. “i can walk you home if you want. it’s the least i can do after you got him home.” he forced a smile onto his face, though it made him look more constipated than inviting. what happened to the snarky, aloof boy who had handed you your sketchbook just a few days ago?

still, you nodded, lips pressed into a line that you hoped resembled somewhat of a smile. surely, you should have been more worried about his sudden change in demeanor, but the relieved expression on his face seemed to soothe your nerves a bit. he assumed a spot next to you, tucking his hands in his pants pockets.

“your little buddy there lead me all over the city trying to find you, so i don’t exactly know how to get home from here, but maybe you can just lead me to the library.” you turned so you faced him, now aware of the close proximity between you two. nobara would probably laugh in your face if she could witness the moment you paused, stunned by the eye contact he made with you under his thick eyelashes. had you been perceptive enough in the moment, you may have noticed the blush creeping up his face. he nodded his head, which was already tilted down to face you fully, with eyes hazy and lips slightly parted.

“it’s just this way, i’ll show you.” he removed his hand from its pocket to point up the hill that had brought you to him in the first place. you gripped the straps of your backpack and faced in the direction he pointed to obediently, hoping to ignore the weird tension in the air. what could you talk to him about?

before you could continue your internal dilemma, he cleared his throat again. “you seem to like the library a lot, huh?”

by god was this boy terrible at small talk.

“i guess i do, but i don’t know how you came to that conclusion considering i only just brought up the library.” you cocked an eyebrow as you looked at him, probably sounding more annoyed than you’d intended.

he smiled knowingly at you, a hint of disbelief on his features as he raised his eyebrows. “i guess you wouldn’t know since your nose is always buried in a book, but i see you there like every day.”

your eyebrows furrowed so they practically touched, trying to rack your memory for seeing him in the library. “i’m sure i’d be able to recognize you if you did.” you were completely oblivious to the implications of how memorable you found him that laced your statement.

he shrugged nonchalantly. “believe it or not. i even tried sitting down in front of you a few times, but you were always too focused on your books to notice.” his smile was almost bittersweet as you waited by a stoplight. before you could respond, he continued. “it’s kind of admirable though. i think it’s nice that you’re so passionate about your books.”

you took a chance to look at him, really look at him, for the first time since you’d glared at him biking by. he held your gaze, eyes gentle. there was absolutely no way this was the same boy carrying your sketchbook in his bag from a few days ago.

“well if you think i’m so nice, what was with you trying to be all smart about my sketchbook?” ever the stubborn one, you were.

he shrugged his shoulders, shoving his hands back in his pockets. “you really should be more careful of your stuff. i was just letting you know. it’s not like i would have put in that effort for just anyone’s sketchbook. i guess i was just trying to make sure you wouldn’t lose it again. sorry if i offended you.”

the way he was blushing would have made any bypasser believe he’d just asked you to marry him.

“it’s just…” he continued “after seeing you in the library all the time, i thought you were really impressive. i thought if i tried to return your sketchbook, i could impress you too.” he kicked a rock that touched the edge of his sneaker.

“why would you wanna impress me?” your obliviousness was excruciating for the poor boy, though it was completely sincere on your end.

“you know, for someone so smart, you really are dense.” he pursed his lips, feigning annoyance. “and here i was thinking i was so obvious.”

at this point, you were nearing the library, and suddenly desperate to continue this conversation that you would have been dreading at the start of this walk.

“when it was obvious you weren’t gonna look up from your book, i tried checking out as many books as i could to get on your radar.” his smile had a weird hint of sadness behind it. you stayed silent, piecing together facts in your head.

“recognize the name megumi fushiguro?”

oh.

it pained you for a moment to know you’d have to tell nobara she was right.

“you’re megumi fushiguro?” your eyebrows shot up in surprise, mouth slightly agape. he seemed to stifle a laugh at your expression.

“i mean, what were you expecting?” he looked a little too smug for someone who was too scared to talk to you in the library.

“some weird old person, probably.” you shrugged, still with an incredulous look on your face. “i’m glad it wasn’t though.”

“oh?” he really did have a nice smile. “i guess you’re glad it was me then.” even he was unsure of this sudden confidence.

you pondered his question for a moment, but your body moved before your brain did, nodding your head slowly. he seemed to loosen up then, hands out of his pockets again, making you aware of how close you stood to him with the way his fingers brushed yours every few steps. a slight sadness filled your being as you stopped in front of those squeaky library doors that suddenly seemed so uninviting.

“i’ll tell you what then,” he started confidently, juxtaposing the bashful way he avoided eye contact with you all of a sudden “come to the library again tomorrow, and i’ll meet you there. really meet you this time, not just walking past your table. i can show you my favorites there and you can show me yours, it’ll be…fun.” he looked up almost worriedly for your reaction, slightly angry at himself for his sudden shyness, you seemed to have quite the effect on him.

there was a beat of silence, and he almost cut the tension in the air by taking back his request and booking it back home. before he could fully hatch his master escape plan, you reached over to grab his hand, his slender fingers lacing through yours. you gave it a light squeeze, and swore you could feel him jump a little at the contact.

“i’d like that a lot,” you looked in his eyes, which had gone from defensive to doe like in just your five words “megumi fushiguro.” he loved the way his name sounded coming from you. his anticipation cracked into a smile as he squeezed your hand back, and you prided yourself on getting to make him smile again.

“i’ll see you tomorrow, then.” he leaned down slightly as he said it, reminiscent of how he had scolded you about your sketchbook just a few days ago. you nodded in response, unable to stop the giddy smile stretching across your face.

tomorrow couldn’t come any faster.

#megumi fushiguro x reader #fushiguro megumi x reader #fushiguro x reader #megumi x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk headcanons #jjk imagines #megumi fushiguro #jujutsu kaisen

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wheelsup · 3 years

Text

coffee is the sixth love language | part two

Summary: Over three cups of coffee, Spencer realized his feelings for you. And over three cups of coffee, he acts on them. gn!Reader.

A/N: the italicized this time indicates Spencer’s thoughts, not reader’s. part of this story is inspired directly from these comments made by @doctorthreephds on the reblog! thanks for letting me incorporate them :)

category: fluff, sfw

warnings: technically none, but the “profiling” part is kind of a reach.

word count: 3k

Once Spencer was firmly resolute on asking you out, he knew he wanted it to be special in a way that only the two of you could appreciate. He realized that he had yet to be the one bringing you coffee, and so it felt only right that it should be how he makes his first move. He woke up extra early on a weekday morning to stop by your favorite coffee shop on his way to work because he knew you loved their banana nut muffins and double-brewed coffee. It was an extra twenty-five minutes out of the way for work each way, so you only got to go there on the rare occasion that you had a day off and were not out of town on a case. It might have been ridiculous to drive fifty minutes for a single damn muffin, but Spencer wanted to make this perfect for you by any means necessary. This was one of the special times that Spencer drove his car, needing the extra speed in order to complete his mission.

He picked up your regular drink order and the muffin and was anxiously on his way back to Quantico. As per his plan he arrived at the office before you did, though not too much earlier because he wanted to make sure your coffee was still hot by the time you got it. If Spencer’s calculations were correct - which they almost always were - you would arrive within a two to four and a half minute window from when he did. Spencer took out a sharpie from his desk drawer and delicately scrawled a message onto the top corner of the pastry bag holding your muffin. He thought it felt like something out of a cheesy romance novel, the kind of novels that you could find in the fifty cent clearance bins, but dammit if Spencer didn’t deserve a little cheesy romance in his life. The other benefit of this was that he thought he would almost certainly choke on his words if he had to ask you himself. He set the two items on your desk and returned to his own to sit and observe. Spencer hoped it would be the first of many coffees he could buy you.

It wasn’t until you had already walked into the bullpen and were halfway to your desk that Spencer realized he had forgotten to sign his name to the bag. How were you supposed to react to him asking you out if you didn’t actually know it was him? And oh God, he left unsealed food on the desk of an FBI agent, with no indication of who had put it there. That is infinitely more suspicious than it is romantic. He wouldn’t be surprised if she took it straight to the trash can. So long for cheesy romance, Dr. Reid.

But Spencer was absolutely elated when your first reaction was to peek into the bag and gasp out of joy at what was inside. He watched you break off a piece of your beloved banana nut muffin and chew it gleefully, and all he could think of was how cute you looked when you were happy. Shortly followed by concern that a federal agent would so readily eat unmarked food that could have been tampered with. That’s something I should bring up to her on the date.

Spencer’s stomach was in knots not knowing if you would pick up on the message. You swallowed that chunk of the muffin and turned the bag over to find an almost illegible black script that you had nearly missed: Would you like to have coffee with me? It just felt like all of the air had been knocked out of your body.

It didn’t even take you half a second to know who this was from; there were so many tells it was Spencer. Before you even noticed the note, you knew it was from him when you saw what was inside the bag. The whole team knew what your favorite coffee shop was because you had talked about it enough times. Hell, you even owned a oversized tee with their name on it that you kept in your go bag as a sleep shirt. But nobody knew what your favorite muffin was because you never mentioned it. In fact, if you thought about it there were maybe only a handful of times over the six months you’d been at the BAU that you even elected to eat this pastry in lieu of a real breakfast. But if anyone was going to detect a pattern, it would have been Dr. Reid. Of course he would pick up on the fact that you only picked those out at cafes when you felt like having a sweet treat, or that when Penelope brought in baked goods for the office you would only indulge if you saw your favorite item in the lineup.

You already knew it, but in case you had any doubt, the note itself confirmed your theory twice. One indicator was the phrasing choice would you as opposed to will you. Use of would posits a hypothetical, as in hypothetically, would you have an interest in drinking coffee together, rather than a hard, come with me to get coffee. The hesitance in the tone came off as if the sender were testing the waters, wanting to put the idea out there without coming off as too strong. Because it was reserved, it gave you room to think if you would genuinely enjoy doing so as opposed to making you feel like you should oblige. That level of respect screamed Spencer to you. And though it was so glaringly obvious, if you needed some concrete evidence it was the fact that nobody else had such endearingly atrocious handwriting like Dr. Reid. It was something you always found hilariously ironic for a man who often analyzes other people’s writing styles for work. You wondered what his way of scribbling said about him, and hoped he could tell you on that date of yours.

You looked straight at him, finding that his eyes were already fixed on you.

“Yes.”

One word was all you had to say to make the lump in Spencer’s throat disappear, replaced by the sensation that his heart was leaping out of his chest. He was going to keep that memory stored in his brain forever, just to replay the moment when the future of your relationship changed with a simple word. Little did he know that when you finished that muffin, you neatly folded the pastry bag and tucked it into your desk drawer, saving it for the exact same purpose.

_____

Spencer had gotten to see your favorite coffee spot already, so for your date you requested that he take you to his to make it even. It was small, but incredibly cozy under the soft ambiance provided by string lights and charm of their mismatched furniture. There was one exposed brick wall adjacent to another that was a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf; it housed copies that loyal patrons left behind for others to pick up. All of those books had different colors of post-its peeking out from the pages. It was almost too eclectic and disorganized for what you would expect Dr. Reid to be into, but at the same time it made perfect sense to you.

“You know, I think I just learned something about you.” You leaned gently into his side to tell him, both hands wrapped around your coffee cup because you were too nervous to know what else to do with them. Spencer was the kind of guy to sit adjacent to you at a table, rather than across, and you loved that about him. You loved having him as close to you as possible.

Spencer’s lips pulled at the edges to form a perfect, lazy smile. “What did you learn about me?” The team had an agreement not to profile each other, but under your gaze, Spencer never felt the kind of scrutiny that came with picking people apart. He trusted that whatever you had to say was going to be kind.

“I think this place says so much about you. Something about how all those books are donations passed on from locals, and that people feel comfortable taking a book off the shelf and opening it up to read what others recommend. The fact that they leave little notes in it for the next reader to share what those stories meant to each of them. Nobody asked those people to do that, but they all chose to take part in these small actions that ended up creating an entire community.” It was one of the most beautifully human things you’d ever witnessed. A group of people engaging in understated and innocent gestures of love between perfect strangers, completely unprompted. “I think you value simple acts, the kind that can take on profound meaning without even intending to. Like when silence feels so comfortable when you’re with the right person.” You paused to take in his reaction as a gauge for how right or wrong you may be. He gave no objection to what you had posited, eyes simply glued to you in intense focus. Spencer was hanging on everything you said, wordlessly encouraging you to divulge more theories you’d developed on him.

“And, visually, this furniture reminds me of a family home. The kind where some items were handed down for generations, some bought new, and others gifted by a distant relative who has no idea what the family likes.” Spencer’s soft laughter mirrored your own at your very accurate description of the shop’s decor. The room truly could not be more disjointed in its aesthetic, but that was entirely its charm. “It probably reflects that there are some aspects of your life that just don’t make sense to you, that almost seem to conflict with each other. For a guy so smart, I’m sure it’s scary to feel like you don’t understand something, and there are probably dark spots in that brain of yours that you try to hide from the world. But in this room, these things that don’t seem like they work together actually amount to something so lovely. And just like the charmingly hideous suede couch and the oddly fur-covered armchairs, every facet of you deserves appreciation because without them you wouldn’t make up to be the beautiful person you are overall.”

Neither of you could pinpoint the moment which your hands had drifted together, fingers loosely intertwined in gentle embrace. There was too much to unpack in what you had said for Spencer to know where to begin. The only thing he could say for sure was that he was astounded by how deeply you understood him without him ever saying any of those things. He considered that maybe you understood him better than he did himself and wished that he could spend his whole life observing the world through the same rose-tinted lenses with which you viewed him. At a loss for words, Spencer chose not to say any right then. The silence I have with you is the most comfortable I’ve ever had.

_____

After each of you consumed one too many caffeinated beverages, you still were not prepared to let the date end. You were willing to sit there and have as many espresso drinks as you could to keep talking to Spencer.

The universe must have been in support of your romance as the overcast skies broke and began to rain just minutes after the two of you had left the shop. Spencer was walking you back to your apartment, clearly forcing his long legs to slow down their naturally fast stride so to extend how long it took to get there. He could get an extra thirteen minutes with you this way. Spencer was given his perfect excuse to keep the date going in the form of heavy downpour; his apartment was far closer than yours, and he proposed you two should seek shelter together until it stopped. I hope it never stops.

Spencer held tightly onto your hand as he ran with you through the rain, giggling all the way to his apartment. He may not like wet, cold climates, but he sure did like holding your hand. Being next to you made him feel incredibly warm somehow when the temperature outside was very much not. And you felt completely at peace sitting on Spencer’s couch wearing one of his sweaters that he lent you. Truthfully, your own clothes weren’t so wet from the rain that it was necessary, but you both pretended it absolutely was just to be able to experience this.

It was clear that the rain would be going for a while and all you wanted to do to pass the time was continue listening to Spencer talk. You discovered that when he’s not interrupted, he loves to go on runaway tangents, often bouncing between different trains of thought as one idea sparked him to remember another. It was almost a sport to keep up with him, but it was perhaps the only one you’ve ever enjoyed. It was so easy when everything he said interested you. You loved that Spencer taught you something new every day, but no matter how niche a piece of trivia or shocking an unknown fact was, it could not beat the things that he taught you about himself. He was letting you in on so many unseen dimensions of himself whether he knew it or not, the explicit ones revealing implicit ones.

You had happily stayed in his home for hours, absorbing every word he spoke. What entertained you the most was the ability of your conversation to jump from deep, serious places to lighthearted stories filled with jokes and teasing and back again in a way that felt completely natural. Your favorite anecdote of his was the story of how he got addicted to coffee. It was the BAU’s favorite inside-joke that Spencer liked his coffee sickeningly sweet and you always wondered how he could tolerate it. Just looking at it made your teeth ache. When he told you why, you thought that the backstory was even sweeter than the coffee.

As a twelve year old college student, Spencer found himself experiencing sleep deprivation for the first time in his life. The course load was more rigorous than he had in high school and even the boy genius needed to readjust to the new expectations of college. More importantly, he needed to cope with pulling late nights at the library if he wanted his first degree by the time he was eligible for a driver’s license. The Red Bulls that the other kids seem to gravitate to seemed far too aggressive for Spencer, their potent smell of chemicals a huge turn off. They were definitely not for him.

He remembered how often his mom used to drink coffee, always in the morning while Spencer got ready for school. Being at CalTech and away from his mother, who remained in Las Vegas most of the time due to her condition, made him so homesick that he took up a coffee habit as a reminder of her. He loved the way it smelled like every comfort he had ever known.

Though he appreciated its smell, Spencer, of course, was not ready back then to love the way it tasted. He was still after all a twelve year old boy who had a sweet tooth like any other kid. The bitter drink was almost offensive to him, so he always made his coffee with extra, extra sugar. He was a menace to the baristas at the campus coffee cart because they would have to refill the shaker every time he stopped by. As it turned out, Spencer was actually a little troublemaker in his youth.

You utterly adored this story and the way it humanized Spencer in a way that other people did not consider often enough. Yes, he was the genius in incredibly advanced classes for his age, but he was also a little kid who behaved as all little kids did. He also experienced struggle and had to cope with it just like everyone else. He was not, as some chose to believe, a complete anomaly beyond understanding. Those many misunderstood idiosyncrasies Spencer had started to feel grounded as you learned more about him and could appreciate how and why they came to be.

But the night was dwindling down and two of you had gone through many stories since the start of your day together. Hitting a caffeine crash, you found yourself unable to keep some rogue yawns at bay. It was only eight o’clock in the evening, not an unreasonable time for you to ask Spencer to drive you back home. The rain was letting up to a mellow drizzle. Spencer was running out of excuses to keep you here.

But you thought about how still hadn’t heard about his first pet lizard, which he caught in his backyard, and you didn’t yet know what kind of music he listened to when he was fourteen. And you no longer thought you needed to make excuses to stay with him longer, so you told him honestly that all you really wanted was to stay the night with him and keep hearing his stories. So you asked him if he would set on a fresh pot of coffee, just so you both could sip at it, staying awake all night together.

He happily did so, and while he set the large coffee pot on and took out two cups from his cabinet, he thought, this is the first of many wishes of yours that I’d like to make come true.

______

PART THREE

Tag list: @rexorangecounty @rachel-voychuk @snitchthewitch @spencer-blake-supremacy @happyreid187 @rainsong01 @librarymagic

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fluff #mgg #matthew gray gubler #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfic #fluff #my fic #criminal minds self insert

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nobodyfamousposts · 3 years

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Helluva Deal (Miraculous X Helluva Boss)

Well, since Miraculous crossovers with Helluva Boss/Hazbin Hotel are a thing now, I figured I’d write my own on how I think it would likely go. Since this IS the Helluva Boss universe, expect mentions of death and the afterlife, allusions to violence, innuendos, and general inappropriateness:

“Let me get this straight.”

Blitzo stared down the demon before him.

Said demon simply looked back, unimpressed. The little thing was small with blue skin, dorky-looking round glasses, and uneven horns. It wasn’t even a notable demon. Just a random weaker demon who somehow got the funds to pay for their services.

And normally, Blitzo was hardly one to turn down money—or a job that offered money. But this…

“You want to pay us to kidnap someone from Earth—not murder, which is in our company’s name, but kidnap. Which is decidedly more difficult and less fun.”

“Yep.”

Blitzo steepled his fingers together and held them up to his face. “And you want this person kidnapped—not so you can kill her yourself for whatever issue you may have, but because you want her to make you a jacket.”

“Yep.”

“A plain old jacket you could just get anywhere here in Hell.”

The demon gasped in offense. “It’s not just ANY jacket! It’s an MDC original piece and I want one!”

Blitzo took a breath, getting the feeling he was going to regret this.

“Why?”

This…made the demon pause and eventually shrug. “Well, I did say I would have died for an MDC jacket. And I’m dead now, so…gimme.”

Well, who was he to argue with that logic?

Although…

“That is going to require quite a bit more effort…” He started, obviously leading…

The demon gave a flat look. “I’m not paying you double. I need the rest to pay her for the jacket.”

“Why would you want to pay for it?” Blitzo demanded. “This is Hell! You’re a demon! Just steal one!”

“It’s a commission! I have to pay for it!”

Blitzo would have spit out his drink if he’d had one.

“What are you even in Hell for, anyway? You won’t kill. You won’t steal. You just want to pay some human for a jacket you could get anywhere. What’s the point of that?” He asked, giving the other demon a strange look because really, what kind of demon WANTED to pay for things?

The demon stared flatly at Blitzo, his tail flicking against the chair in apparent increasing agitation.

"Are you saying that a commission shouldn't be paid for?” The demon asked curiously, sounding a little...too polite. “Because the last guy who tried to skip out on paying for a commission died. Eyes stabbed out and everything. Do you want to risk that kind of thing happening to you?"

…

Blitzo paled.

“Oh.”

The silence lingered to the point of long past uncomfortable as the demon continued to wait for an answer and Blitzo’s not so subtle attempt to desperately press his secret security button under his desk had no effect.

This would turn out to be because of Loona disconnecting the thing due to her hangover. Though in the moment, Blitzo would choose to blame Moxie.

After a good minute of no response from his team, Blitzo started to sweat when the determined artist demon seemed to grow bored and pulled out a pencil.

He jumped to his feet.

“We’ll take the case!”

And immediately fled the room.

_______

Once on Earth, the problem came up rather quickly that they had no idea who MDC was or how to access them. The client only knew the target was a fashion designer in Paris, which narrowed it down to one city at least but still was little help when the city in question was one of the fashion capitals of the world.

Blitzo, naturally, took the lead in trying to work out a means of information gathering.

And by “naturally”, what was really meant was “horribly failing”.

“I’m telling you, the plan is foolproof. We hold someone for ransom until MDC trades herself.” Blitzo said with apparent glee.

“Sir, that would be the exact opposite of subtle and get us the wrong kind of attention!”

Moxie, for his part, was trying to come up with what he would call “sensible plans”. Millie was simply scouting the area while the two argued. Ever faithful Loona stayed behind to try using her own connections…a magazine.

Needless to say, Blitzo was the one carrying the team. Or at least in his not-so-humble opinion.

Blitzo rolled his eyes. “I don’t see you coming up with any plans, Moxie.”

The smaller demon gave his boss a disgruntled glare. “I already told you! We should just go back and ask the client for more information!”

“Hmm…” Blitzo paused, before pulling out his phone. “Hey, Loona. The client still in my office?”

“Yeup.”

Blitzo immediately closed the phone. “Yeah—nope.”

“Sir—”

“He gouged a guy’s eyes out, Moxie! I need my eyes! I’m too pretty to lose them! They frame my face!” Blitzo exclaimed, bringing his hands up to his head in a fit of dramatics. “Is that what you want, Moxie? Do you want me to lose my precious, precious eyes?”

Moxie stared at the man like he was insane. Granted, Moxie had long had doubts about his boss’s sanity, but still...

“Hey, fellas?” Millie called, interrupting the two as she waved them over to the side of the building they had set up a temporary base atop of. “Listen to this!”

Blitzo immediately headed over, with Moxie following along behind looking annoyed. As they got closer, they heard what Millie had called them over about. Blitzo leaned over and peeked into the room in question.

Below them was an open window of the building where apparently a number of teenagers were gathered within for some inexplicable reason. And in this specific room, a group of the teens were gathered around one particular girl with a large forehead and hair that appeared to be made of meat. It was this girl who had their attention.

“—really friends with MDC?” One short blonde asked, looking overly excited like Blitzo did when he got a paycheck.

“Of course!” The meat-girl replied, looking smug. “We go way back! I was even the one who encouraged him to start in fashion and inspired his Heroes line.”

Blitzo looked back up at his team. “I thought MDC was a girl?”

Moxie shrugged. “If no one knows their real identity who's to say if they're a boy or a girl?"

“What else are they saying?” Millie asked, which returned the focus to the room.

More talking from below, using words that none of the demons really understood or cared about.

“—which was why he even made the Fox outfit for me!”

“Wasn’t that design based on Rena Rouge rather than Volpina?” One other girl with blue hair asked from the doorway of the room. She appeared to be rather annoyed for some odd reason.

The meat-girl looked somber. “Well, that was before he had to change it. After all, as bold as he is, not many people would support an akuma line, even if he had kept my idea to donate the funds to charity for the victims.”

The group “oo”-ed over the girl and praised her for her thoughtfulness. The meat-girl preened at the attention. The bluenette rolled her eyes. Some other blond guy looked on in disappointment.

“How amazing!” The little blonde exclaimed, clasping her hands to her cheeks. “I’d love to be able to meet MDC!”

“So would we!”

All eyes fell to the window which Blitzo, Millie, and Moxie used to make their entrance.

Honestly, he thought it was one of his better displays of dramatics. It certainly warranted some applause. Or screams of fear. Maybe one fainting.

“Akuma!”

Honestly, he was rather disappointed by the underwhelming response.

“I know we're demons and all, but I thought this place was French, not Japanese!"

“Nevermind that.” Blitzo replied to his workers before stepping forward to face the students.

Or rather one student in particular.

“Greetings! I am Blitzo. The two behind me are Millie and Moxie.”

The class stared as one of the two glared at them while the other waved cheerfully—or would be considered cheerfully if her teeth weren’t so razor sharp.

“We represent IMP, a for-hire group out of Hell. We take contracts, complete tasks, and make wishes come true!”

The teens looked at the demons in wariness and confusion.

“That sounds nice…” The little blonde in pink said.

“Those wishes generally involve murder.”

“I take it back! That sounds horrible!”

Blitzo grinned. “We are the ‘Immediate Murder Professionals’, dealing with the unfinished business of those poor wretched souls who are seeking some small vindication in their current status in Hell.”

“Then…why are you here?” The bigger male demanded.

Blitzo ignored him in favor of his true target.

“You! Ugly girl!” He shouted, grabbing the meat-girl.

“Hey!” She exclaimed, insulted.

He shook her. “Take us to MDC and we’ll rip out those sausage-links you call hair!”

“…don’t you mean ‘or’?”

He grinned ferally.

“No.”

She shrieked in fear.

“Lila!” Others cried out in horror.

Ah, yes. There was the fear. This, Blitzo was good with. It made him feel better about the previous lackluster response to his entrance.

“Why do you want me?!” The girl—Lila shouted, looking panicked. “I don’t know where MDC is!”

He raised an eyebrow at this. “But you said you were friends.”

She glanced around, taking note of the fact that her cohorts were still in the room. Though he didn’t know why that should matter for her answer.

“We are! But…I don’t know where he lives now! He’s moved since his name got out there and hasn’t given me the address yet!”

A glasses-wearing girl frowned in confusion. “But didn’t you just say that he invited you to his house for fittings?”

“Yeah, you said it was for the latest line that just came out.” Another girl with multi-colored hair added.

“That was months ago. Before he moved.” Lila replied quickly. “So I can’t help you.”

“Sure, you can!” Blitzo replied jovially. “We can just use you as ransom until MDC agrees to hand himself over.”

Moxie approached the two, keeping his gun leveled at the other kids. “We can save some time and see if she can’t call him.”

“Hey, yeah!” Millie agreed, grabbing Lila’s bag off of her and searching for her phone. “If they’re friends, she’s gotta have his contact info!”

“It’s not in there!” Lila replied quickly. “I was worried someone would steal my phone to get his info so I don’t keep his number in my phone!”

Millie frowned, before holding the now open phone up to Lila. “Then just type in the number yourself.”

Lila glanced around the room in growing agitation. “I can’t! I don’t have it memorized!”

“Then where did you write it down?”

“I lost it!”

The demons were looking particularly vexed.

“When and where?”

“It was a while ago. I don’t know where.” Lila replied.

A girl with glasses looked at her in confusion. “But didn’t you say you just called him this morning to congratulate him on the new line? And that he promised you a free outfit as thanks for all your help?”

Lila paled. “I—”

“Then the number should still be in the phone under its call history.” Moxie noted. Millie grinned and looked back to the phone screen to look through the data.

“I deleted it right after!” Lila shouted desperately.

Millie looked up at her in irritation.

Then promptly crushed the phone in her grip.

Lila shrieked, though it would be up for debate as to whether it was in shock at the loss of her phone or in fear that she may soon share that same fate.

Blitzo seemed similarly put out, but ended up shrugging it off as he pulled Lila closer to him. “Then it’s back to Plan A to hold her for ransom. Or torture her to see if she can’t remember the details.”

“No, please!”

“Lila!”

“Let her go!”

Lila grabbed at the arm holding her, panicked but not enough beyond reasoning. She couldn’t afford to reveal she lied now. She could only hope that these monsters would take her somewhere private where she could manipulate them with less witnesses.

Marinette, for her part, was also analyzing the situation.

These were three unknowns. Definitely not akumas. If they were to be believed, they were actual demons. From Hell. Which existed, apparently. And was where Lila would likely find herself in the next hour if she kept this up.

But from Lila’s expression, it seemed she was insistent on staying tight-lipped about her lies. Marinette figured as much due to her history. But she would have thought that Lila would have had some measure of self-preservation. Though perhaps that only applied to the preservation of her lies and manipulations rather than her own well being.

It was clear that Lila wasn’t going to get herself out of this. Not in any way that would spare her and everyone else in the room, at any rate.

As it was, the classmates were about to rally in Lila’s defense. While they had stood their own against akumas in the past,Marinette didn’t want to see how well they would fare against demons. Nor did she want to have to test if the Miraculous Cure would be enough to fix whatever would be left of them if they tried.

Marinette looked to the doorway.

No one was paying any attention to her right now. She could escape. She could go out, find a place to transform, and come back to deal with these…demons.

But by the time she returned, who was to say what could happen. The demons could kill Lila. They could kill all of her friends for being witnesses.

Ladybug may not be able to fix this.

But Marinette…as Marinette, she could.

“I’m MDC.” Marinette admitted.

Everyone froze.

“Come again.”

“MDC.” Marinette enunciated. “It stands for Marinette Dupain-Cheng. My name. I’m MDC. I’m the one you want.”

Alya stared. “Girl?”

Moxie looked at her in consideration. “That would fit with the client’s report of MDC being female.”

Millie, frowned in suspicion. “How do we know she’s really MDC?”

Marinette took a breath and slowly pulled out her tablet. “Well, my signature is in the clothes, so if you’ll let me pull up one of the shots, I can point it out and—”

Blitzo cut her off, grabbing her arm. “Yeah, I think we’ll just take you both and let the client sort it out. Sound good? Good, because we’re leaving.”

“Bye all!” Millie said, waving to the group. “Don’t do anything we wouldn’t do!”

Moxie rolled his eyes. “That’s a pretty short list…”

Blitzo ignored them an opened a portal, dragging both girls after him. Without a glance back, both Millie and Moxie followed him through the portal. Before anyone else could move, the gateway closed behind them.

A long pause followed.

“Not so fast!”

Suddenly, the door was kicked open as Chat Noir burst into the room.

The much less enemy-filled room.

“Um…did I miss the party?”

_______

The room they soon found themselves appeared, for all intents and purposes, completely normal. It looked like an office of the sort they’d find anywhere in Paris. Complete with a secretary’s desk, a few chairs, and a table littered with magazines.

The difference was made quickly apparent, however, through the view out the window. The landscape the deceptively quaint room was mostly a collage of red and black, with a sunless sky above and a myriad of strange buildings. Also of note where the various denizens of…distinctly non-human appearance wandering the streets outside.

“All right, ladies! Welcome to Hell!” Blitzo announced with a flourish, causing the girls to pale.

Lila fell back with a screech, landing on her butt and immediately attempting to scuttle back away. Her path was quickly halted as she bumped into something. Looking up, that “something” was actually a wolf monster, making Lila panic even further.

Loona, for her part, was not having a good morning—ignoring, of course, that it was actually the afternoon. And as if it wasn’t bad enough that her hangover still hadn’t cleared, now some…thing had shoved into her, followed shortly by an ear-piercing shriek that only made her head feel worse.

Seeing the way the wolf demon growled, Lila opened her mouth, possibly to scream even more when Marinette quickly shoved a hand over her mouth with a smile to Loona.

“Oh my! Your hairstyle is quite lovely!” She lied. Blatantly lied to the wolf girl’s face.

“It’s bed-head.”

“I couldn’t even tell. It looks so sleek and shiny!”

“Whatever.” Loona grumbled and stormed off to the break room, slamming the door behind her (and then immediately regretting it due to the noise agitating her headache).

Marinette decided to take the initiative. “So…what do you want with us, anyway?”

“Our client paid us a pretty penny—”

“Basic contract.” Moxie interrupted.

“Pretty. Penny.” Blitzo continued as if he hadn’t heard. “For a chance to meet with MDC.”

Okay, they had mentioned that before.

“Then what?”

“If you are MDC, you can do whatever the client is wanting. If you’re not, you’ll at least make for a decent distraction while we escape and blow up the building.”

The humans in the room blanched at that.

“WHAT?!”

“I know. She was a beautiful building.” Blitzo said mournfully as he actually wiped a tear from his eye. “And I just got my office arranged how I like it, too. But it

Marinette stared.

Lila whimpered.

“I second that ‘what’.” Moxie interrupted. “Nobody at any point discussed blowing up the building!”

“It was on page 3 of the handout I gave you this morning, Moxie.” Blitzo exclaimed, covering his eyes in exasperation. “At least read the mission briefings!”

“Sir, the ‘handout’ was a paper napkin. There was no third page!” Moxie insisted.

Beside him, Millie for her part was looking over the aforementioned napkin for the part that was supposed to mention the circumstances in question…or really any of the plan.

“We’ll discuss it later.” Blitzo said over his shoulder to Moxie as he proceeded to grab both human girls and drag them over to a previously closed door.

“Hey wait—!”

“Hang on!”

Within seconds, Blitzo opened the door and proceeded to shove both girls through before slamming it shut behind them, the last thing they heard being him mentioning where to buy explosives.

_______

So.

Recap.

Hell was real. Demons were a thing. And the two human girls were getting a first hand view of the less than pleasant or holy side of the afterlife.

Marinette was…actually taking it all in stride.

Lila was less so. She was sitting ramrod straight in the chair, keeping a tight grip on her knees and trying very hard not to move as her eyes glanced quickly around the room at the assembled demons.

Marinette actually felt bad for her. And probably should have been panicking herself, all things considered. Maybe she would have been had it not been for her extensive experience as Ladybug.

Sure, it was Hell, but floating gods and people turning into monsters had already broadened her horizons of the possibilities of the universe. Plus despite the name of the company that had kidnapped them both, murder didn’t appear to be on the table. All in all, despite the circumstances, Marinette didn’t feel that scared.

The fact that the “client” in question who hired the group was actually a fan of hers wanting a commission helped quite a bit with that.

As did the flattery.

“OMG! OMG! I can’t believe it! It’s you! Can I get your autograph?! No—wait! I need to focus! Can I get a jacket with your autograph?!”

“Thank you.” Marinette said, somewhat flustered. Honestly, she hadn’t thought she had gained THAT much fame. Especially not enough for someone to want to commission her from the afterlife.

…was that a thing? Could that be a thing?

“What I don’t get is why the other girl had to tag along?” The demon asked, curiously. “Is she your assistant or something?”

Lila brightened, looking ready to speak—likely to try to lie her way out of this. Or mess up what little peace Marinette had managed to create.

“No!” Marinette interrupted quickly, ignoring Lila’s petulant glare. “No, she’s not. There was just a mix up since they didn’t know where I was or who to bring.”

Blitzo rolled his eyes. “Well, how were we supposed to know?!”

“You could have asked me when I contracted you.” Said the demon, somewhat annoyed.

“I have a website, you know.” Said Marinette, very annoyed.

They paused.

“…the fuck’s a website?”

Silence.

Marinette coughed. “In any case, you wanted to commission me?”

“Oh, yes!”

_______

It didn’t take long to make the arrangements. Marinette named her prices and the demon was more than willing to pay her for her services. They made use of Blitzo’s office to negotiate and fine tune some details regarding the arrangement. From determining the materials to writing up the contract to negotiating the costs, it was all pretty professional.

And ultimately involved the humans not being murdered and the building not being blown up, which was always preferable.

It finally came down to determining just how the demon customer wanted the jacket to look, and Marinette started drawing out some sample sketches on spare paper in the office that may or may not have been important documents for Blitzo which she may or may not have particularly cared given the whole “kidnapping and being used as a sacrifice” matter.

The only issue seemed to be that the demon customer wanted the jacket to be made of materials that were only available in Hell. Which made sense, she supposed, since she wasn’t sure how long anything she made on Earth would last in this environment. Millie and Moxie had been sent out to gather the necessary material in question, and what they returned with was a strange sort of leather. It was unique and of a color she had never seen before, and part of her really wanted to get a bit more detail about the make.

…given how pale Lila had already gotten, Marinette kindly decided to refrain from asking questions.

“Well then, let’s go over a few sketches and determine which one you like.”

The demon looked almost giddy at the prospect. The IMP team looked relieved. Except Blitzo, who still seemed to be pouting over their takeover of his office.

Lila was…less enthused. “WHAT?! What are you thinking?! He’s a demon!”

Marinette shrugged. “Well, I do have a non-discrimination clause.”

“That shouldn’t apply to demons!” Lila hissed lowly.

“The demons who have brought us to Hell and are currently our only way of getting back.” Marinette pointed out, dryly.

Lila huffed and went back to her chair.

So, with Blitzo and his team begrudgingly kindly being forced willing to donate their office for her use, Marinette sent to work to try and design a jacket to the client’s taste as quickly as possible.

The sooner she got done, the sooner they could go back to Earth.

…hopefully.

Lila, for her part, was terrified and miserable and just wanting to go back to Earth. Immediately would be preferable. Even without Marinette.

Yeah, thanks Lila.

“Why do I have to stay here? Why can’t I go back home? Or do anything else?”

The client tilted his head. “Are you saying you don’t like art? Because the last person who told me they didn’t like art had their eyes stabbed out. With pencils. Would you want that to happen to you?”

“…can’t I like art and not stay in Hell?”

“No.”

Lila paled and sunk lower in her seat, where she remained quiet for the next couple of hours while Marinette worked.

It was mostly in silence as Marinette drew one sketch after another. Asking occasional questions about preferred length, how many pockets, special embellishments, and which parts of the various jacket styles did he prefer. Eventually, they had come to an agreement about the set look he wanted, the materials needed, and when he wanted it completed by. And from there came the matter of payment…

“Um…I’m not sure what the exchange rate is for Hell currency.” Marinette said, looking at the coins he handed her.

The demon frowned, tilting his head in consideration. “I could always rob a human bank and pay you with that.”

Marinette paled.

“This is fine. Really. I can probably buy some things from Hell with this.” She said with a forced smile.

“There are tons of things you can only find here.” Millie said, brightening. “We could deliver them for you!”

Well, that was a good point.

“That’s true.” Moxie agreed. “You could make other things with the fabrics here. Hats. Shirts.”

He paused, looking over his shoulder at Millie who was busy chatting with the customer regarding the fabric he chose. Seeing she was suitably distracted, he turned to Marinette. “So…how much would it be to make a dress. Just out of curiosity.”

Aww. Even in Hell there was love.

She smiled. “We can certainly discuss it.”

The moment was ruined as Blitzo stepped in and slung an arm around Marinette’s shoulder.

“How about one of those sexy maid outfits for the bedroom? You’re French, right?” He asked before giving Moxie a nudge. “You could stand to have a little more fun in the bedroom.”

“Sir, I’m 14.” Marinette replied dryly.

“And what we do in the bedroom is none of your business!” Moxie rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Didn’t we just have a discussion about this last week?”

Marinette coughed as the two started to argue. “So…um…are we going to return to Earth so I can start working on this?”

Blitzo sighed. “Fine, fine. Killjoys.”

Lila heaved a sigh of relief. “Oh thank God.”

_______

With an agreement forged between Marinette and IMP to have the customer’s order completed and delivered within two week’s time, Marinette and Lila were safely deposited back in their classroom no worse for wear.

…well, physically. Mentally, there were probably going to be a few scars.

Several of their classmates had apparently remained since the earlier incident. Perhaps it was out of worry? Or maybe classes had resumed after their disappearance—akuma attacks and strange circumstances had become rather common, after all.

Still, it was Alya’s cry of surprise and then being pulled into a hug that assured Marinette she was, in fact, back home.

“You’re back!” Alya exclaimed, relieved. “We were so worried!”

It wasn’t every day your best friend and classmate was dragged to Hell, after all.

“—and I’d been trying to reach out to Ladybug and Chat Noir, but only Chat showed up and Ladybug must be busy or maybe she already knew? Did she help you? How did you escape?”

Part of her wondered if Alya had even stopped to breathe. The rest of her was just basking in the happiness that they had made it back safe and nothing too terrible had happened in the meantime.

The absolute LAST thing she needed was to come back and find out Hawk Moth had let loose another akuma that destroyed Paris while she was gone.

Alya suddenly gasped as though struck by a thought.

“Oh my god, Marinette! I can’t believe you did that!”

Marinette smiled. “Well, I had to—”

“You claimed to be MDC just to protect Lila! And here I thought you hated her!”

Happy feeling gone. Gone like a punch to the face. Knocked out. Dead, even.

Alya beamed. “I’m so proud of you, girl! I knew deep down that—”

“Nope!” Came a quick interruption. “That’s not what happened. It was just a lie. Completely and utterly.”

The interruption was half expected.

The fact that it came from Lila was not.

Everyone froze.

“What?”

“I never met MDC.” Lila explained, wasting absolutely no time with subtleties and just blurting it out. “I never knew Marinette was MDC. I just lied about knowing him because I thought he was the next big thing and I knew you would all believe me.”

“…what?”

Lila sighed. “I lied about knowing MDC. And being the muse behind his fashion line—well, hers. Since Marinette is MDC. She never lied. I did.”

The classmates were startled, but seemed to be taking in the information.

Rose, for her part, tried to be positive. “Oh...well, you didn’t have to lie about knowing MDC—”

“No, I mean about everything. Ever. In fact, there’s probably not a single time we’ve known each other that I was ever honest with any of you.”

Everyone stared.

“I’ve been lying since the moment we’ve met.” Lila continued. “I am a liar. Always have been. I am a horrible lying liar who lied about everyone I ever claimed to know and everything I ever said I did just to get you all to admire me because it was easier to manipulate you that way and get you to do things I wanted. From interviewing me for the Ladyblog to carrying my lunch tray to buying me things. I lied about having tinnitus just to get to sit next to Adrien and lied about not being interested in him to manipulate Nino into guilting him into letting me come to his house. Ladybug herself even called me out for lying. And when Marinette got upset that day I came back over the seat change? I threatened her in the bathroom because she was wise to me from the very start.”

A few stares were sent Marinette’s way. She didn’t have any explanation for them though. She was just as surprised as they were. More, even.

Lila shrugged. “Everything I’ve said. Everything I’ve done. All lies. Ever.”

Everyone gaped in shock. Nobody even really knew what to say.

Marinette started. “But why—”

“Because that was Hell, Marinette. HELL. The bad place you go to after you die, reserved for bad people. And until today, I didn’t even think it was real. Or that there could be a chance I could end up there. But I imagine if anything would warrant that, it’d be lying, manipulating, and trying to get revenge on a superhero.”

Nino blinked. “Wait…what was that last one—”

As if a great weight was lifted from her shoulders, Lila sighed. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go join a convent to try and save my soul now that I know I have one.”

With that, she promptly exited the room, leaving the group staring after her in complete bewilderment.

Alya gaped. “...what?”

_________

Epilogue:

Marinette completed her commission to the demon and later for Moxie. Her fame increased in both realms and she eventually did open up her own design house. The only issue came in the customers who wanted to pay her by removing her competition, which she was mostly able to prevent until IMP took a hit on Gabriel Agreste. While Marinette did stop the attempted murder, this did still reveal his secondary identity of Hawk Moth, allowing the Butterfly and Peacock to be recovered and peace to return to Paris.

The classmates were shocked at the reveal of Lila’s true nature, but were more bewildered than anything given how it happened. They did all feel foolish and embarrassed for trusting Lila, but considering what could have happened, they all chose to take it as a life lesson to be more cautious in the future. They all remained friends and moved on to live quite fulfilling lives.

IMP formed a contract with MDC and gained a secondary job of delivery service as well as assassins, which increased their profits.

And Millie loved her new dress.

Lila Rossi convinced her mother to send her to a convent, where she became one of the most pious and devout members, spreading the message of being good in life more than any other.

#ml fic #ml crossover #marinette dupain cheng #Lila sucks #lila redemption #helluva boss

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voiceless-terror · 3 years

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Outside the Lines

for @archivalpride month! the prompt was ‘sharing clothes’ so I decided to add on a bit to my More than Enough archives polycule fic. you don’t need to read it beforehand, though. 2.2k words, cw in the tags.

Jon likes Sasha’s clothes. Particularly, her cardigans.

They’re warm, oversized things in pastel colors, chunky cable knits and ancient pullovers, smelling faintly of jasmine and sandalwood. There’s always one draped over the back of her chair at work, at home. Sometimes a pile of them.

“Just in case,” she said knowingly, when Jon mentioned the teetering pile on the back of her office chair.

“Of what, a blizzard?” he replied archly, to which she had no response.

But Jon runs cold, so it makes sense that he’d like them. And eye them. And eventually, borrow them.

“You look good in pink,” she said casually, walking by him cozily wrapped up, surrounded by books for his latest case. “You should wear it more often.” Jon just grumbled in response.

It now sits on the back of his chair.

Point is, they’re not strangers to sharing clothes. Once they move in together, the lines blur even more. Jon’s scarves become hers, her jackets become his. It’s nice when the someone’s scent begins to remind you of home. Embarrassingly, he’s come to think of it like a hug when she’s not around. Perhaps she feels the same way, but Jon’s not going to bring it up. He’s not that maudlin.

“You need to stop me from online shopping,” she groans one day, dropping a pile of clothing into his lap that must have been from the newly-arrived and altogether giant box he found on the steps of their flat. Jon had raised an eyebrow as she guiltily hauled it to her room and got to work. “I swear, I don’t remember ordering half of this.”

“Far be it from me to get between a James and her phone,” he replies, picking through the pile of utterly un-Sasha-like clothing. It’s all floaty tops and tiny skirts, nothing like what she usually gravitates toward. She certainly has more...adventurous tastes, when she’s intoxicated.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

“I’m not looking at you at all,” Jon retorts, picking up the most offensive piece from the pile with his thumb and pointer finger: a muted brown, and yet somehow sparkly miniskirt. He raises a judgmental eyebrow. “Really?”

“I was not in my right state of mind, you know that.” She ran a hand over her face, refusing to look him in the eye. “Anyway, see if there’s anything in there you like. Otherwise, it’s all going back.”

Jon very much doubts there’s much in here for him - not a chunky knit in sight. The tops aren’t too bad, but a bit too sheer for his liking, and if he’s going to layer, he’d rather be comfortable than fashionable. He pushes the pile off his lap when something catches his eye. Buried beneath two very loud shirts is something black, with bits of lace. He pulls it out to find a simple black dress, high-necked with pearl buttons and slightly puffed sleeves. It’s modest, but covered in a delicate lace pattern. His grip tightens incrementally. “You don’t like this?”

Sasha peeks her head around the corner. “S’bit short on me. You should try it on, though. It’s cute.”

Jon flushes. It’s something he might’ve worn in uni, when he and Georgie made a night of it and Jon had just enough liquid courage. Now, though, it doesn’t fit with his professional persona and strict uniform of blazers, vests, and button ups. He needed to be taken seriously, and he didn’t feel he could do that if he was...experimenting, as his grandmother would phrase it. His hair he still wears long, the only vestige of that life he kept. “Oh,” he responds automatically, “I couldn’t.”

Sasha blinks. “I think you’d look really nice. Put your hair up, maybe add some earrings.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I’m not.” She comes behind his perch on the sofa, gathering his hair up in her hand and pulling it from his face. “Leave a few pieces out, y’know, artfully messy.” She takes the dress and pulls it up against his body. “What do you think?”

“Um, maybe,” he barely manages to whisper. It feels nice, right. He can see it in his mind’s eye - it looks very him. Not feminine or masculine, just pretty. Just Jon. “I’ll think about it.”

He thinks about it. The dress hangs in the back of his closet, untouched and passed over many a morning. He tried it on and Sasha had been right- of course she was, she’s good at that sort of thing when not inebriated. Maybe one day he’d wear it out - not to work, but to drinks or something.

Maybe.

It’s not until months down the line that he tugs it out, on one of those days where he feels like his body doesn’t make sense and names sound wrong in his ears. Drinks with Tim, the newest recruit to their department. Hard won drinks, if Jon might add; Tim was just starting to open up to them. He tugs the dress over his head and digs through a plate on his dresser for the long silver earrings Sasha gave him last Christmas. He studiously avoids the mirror on his way out the door, throwing his bag over his shoulder and standing in the doorway, as if waiting for Sasha’s reaction.

This was a bad idea, he thinks as his palms start to sweat. You look ridiculous, you shouldn’t have- his thoughts are interrupted by a gentle hand tucking a piece of hair behind his ear. Sasha smiles at him.

“Oh, you’re perfect.”

Tim thinks so too.

----------

“Oh man, I’ve got to get rid of that.”

Tim motions to the blazer in Sasha’s hand. “Hasn’t fit me since uni. Y’know, when I got these guns.” Sasha rolls her eyes as he makes an exaggerated motion with his arms. They’ve been cleaning out Tim’s apartment for the past few hours, she and Tim in the bedroom while Jon sorted through his books in the living room. She suspects he’s doing more reading than sorting.

“Why’d you keep it, then?” She holds the hanger up, smoothing the fabric out with her hand. It’s heavy, quality fabric. A shame to get rid of it.

“Dunno, just one of those things,” he shrugs, throwing another pair of joggers onto the bed. “It was expensive, but I only ever wore it to interviews for internships and the like. You can toss it in the donate pile.”

She hums idly, making no motion to get rid of it. She’s rather fond of blazers, has quite a few in her collection. They’re nice when she wants to be a bit more dressy and professional. A woman’s outfit can occasionally be her armor, particularly in academia, and nothing says ‘take me seriously’ like a nicely fitted jacket and skirt. Never mind how it makes her feel. But this is very much a men’s blazer, barely a nip at the waist and with nothing to outline the curve of her body. And yet.

She shoves it in her bag. If she doesn’t like it, she’ll throw it out.

_______

When Jon and Tim are tucked in bed, she tries it on.

She doesn’t know why she’s being so secretive about this. It’s not like Jon and Tim will care, it’s just clothes. Lord knows she’s encouraged Jon to wear whatever he wants, and there’s no surefire way to get Tim blushing like wearing one of his pullovers. But there’s something that feels a bit transgressive about it. She was generally drawn to more feminine looks, growing up as a tall girl there’s an inherent (perhaps taught) idea that making herself look smaller and delicate would make her more appealing. Appealing for what? She always wanted to ask. But she knows the answer now. It’s taken near a decade to get the slouch out of her posture and to get comfortable wearing heels.

It seems silly to feel so cowed by a blazer. She’s thirty years old, unmarried and living with two partners. She stopped playing by the rules a long time ago. Her hands shouldn’t be shaking. For Christ’s sake, just put it on.

She slips her arms into the sleeves, pausing to inhale the leftover scent of Tim, his laundry detergent and the after shave he occasionally wears. Her entire body warms, like stepping into a bath. She slips the rest of it on, pausing to adjust the shirt underneath. When she looks in the mirror, she can’t help the grin that fills her face. She looks good. Her broad shoulders fit the line of the jacket perfectly, her curves hidden and barely even suggested by the cut. It is decidedly not feminine.

She likes it.

It takes her twenty minutes to drag herself from the bathroom and back into bed. She lies awake through Tim’s light snores and Jon’s murmuring, filled with a strange, nervous excitement. It’s just a blazer, she thinks to herself somewhat giddily. It’s just clothes. But when she throws it on that Monday morning and steps into the kitchen, she starts to think it might be more than that. She walks a little taller, feels a bit more at home in her skin. Tim choking on his orange juice when he sees her is just an added bonus.

“Glad you kept it,” he stutters out, once he manages to stop gaping.

She’s glad too.

______

Martin’s sitting on Jon’s bed, watching as he runs a brush through his hair.

Jon’s hair is lovely, long and shiny. His own he keeps rather short, though the curls are getting a bit unruly these days. When he was a child, his mother insisted he keep it long, just like she insisted on a great many other things. But he shed all of that, got as far away from it as possible. And yet, eyeing the silvery tray on Jon’s dresser, he has to admit he’s curious.

It’s full of delicate, pretty accessories- hair clips and necklaces and earrings. Jon’s like a magpie, collecting shiny things; though this collection is mostly gifts from the three of them. It’s a little dance they like to do- Jon sees something in a store, stares a little too long, insists he doesn’t need it, and eventually it ends up in their flat.

Their flat. He’s still getting used to it. He’s never felt at home anywhere, but he’s starting to think he has one now. Listening to Jon hum as he cooks, Tim reading aloud from his recent article deep-dive, Sasha butting in with a comment - these are all good things. The background noise to his days that used to be filled with silence.

And he’s never been around people so at home with themselves. Martin is so used to putting an effort into how he presents himself in the world, he’s never enjoyed being misconstrued. A strange, delicate balance of pride in who he is at war with a desperate need to be understood and accepted. Palatable. Easier to put yourself in a box with clear labels than to deal with the confusion and the questions. Any passing thought or fleeting impulse that goes outside the lines is dismissed.

But nothing about his situation now is easily labeled, to be honest. It’s hard enough explaining his relationship status to others, though Sasha has a little spiel ready to rattle off at a moment’s notice. They’re all so comfortable with each other, with themselves. It makes him both a bit braver and a bit more afraid.

While Jon scurries off to flick through his closet, Martin gets up, walking over to the collection and picking up the small moth broach he’d gotten him on one of their first dates, before Tim started to come along. The memory brings a smile to his face.

“Oh, it’s lovely, Martin.” Jon had immediately pinned it to his jacket, before reaching down to grab a bag at his feet. “And ah, actually- I got something for you too?”

A little Highland cow plushie. So he had been listening to his rant on Scotland the other day. It still sits in place of pride on his desk.

“Do you want to try one?” Martin jumps at the sound of Jon’s voice, dropping the pin unceremoniously back into the pile as if he’d been burnt. He turns around, prepared to voice a thousand excuses, a knee-jerk reaction.

“No, it’s-”

But Jon’s already sorting through the pile with clever fingers, hand lingering over a thin barrette with a tiny, gold flower. Pretty, simple. Martin’s hand itches to reach out but he draws it into a tight fist. Admiring is one thing, but actually wearing it-

“C’mere.” He thinks he should refuse but instead he leans down, lets Jon’s fingers wind their way through his hair and feels a settled weight against his head.

“There.” Jon smiles. “That’ll do quite nicely.”

He looks in the mirror. Oh.

It’s barely even noticeable, just a small clip bringing the longest of his curls behind his ear. But Jon’s right. It looks nice. It goes with his hair and it doesn’t feel feminine or wrong, just a comfortable weight against his head reminding him he belongs, he’s loved. And that Martin’s still himself, even if he steps outside of the box every now and then.

“You don’t have to keep it in if you-”

“No. I like it.” He straightens his spine, tilts his head. Smiles. Jon smiles back.

Yeah. He likes it.

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31803076

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meatheadosis-sf · 3 years

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Hypnocon 2021

The 22nd annual North American convention/conference for men into men into erotic and recreational hypnosis will return to San Francisco this year. It's free to attend (with donations welcome).

$139/night event room rates for the Con weekend (and the day before and after, if you'd like to enjoy the rest of the city while you're here). Locals, or people making other arrangements, can of course attend without booking a room.

Enthusiastic informed consent is required for any hypnotic play (or other play, for that matter) at the Con. There will be presentations about negotiating consent early Saturday morning and before each play party.

Check out http://Hypnocon.com for more details and the group rate hotel booking info.

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SCHEDULE

October 15th - 17th at the Hotel Spero in San Francisco CA

At past Hypnocons, because they're free, many people were able wander in at will, to see only the events they were interested in. Because of this year's vaccination requirement, that won't be true this year. Once you've registered, you can certainly come and go as you please (hang on to those name tags!), but you must register!

Proof of vaccination is REQUIRED by the city of San Francisco and the hotel itself, and will be checked at registration. A digital photo of your vaccination card is sufficient, assuming the name on it matches your photo ID. To the best of my knowledge, no one planning to attend will be crossing any borders to do so. If you are coming from a different country, please let me know before you come, so we can figure out what works as proof for you.

Friday:

Registration 2p - 6p in Jarvis's Corner (the desk will direct you to it). Hypnocon is completely FREE (donations are welcome), but you do need to register so that we can check your proof of vaccination (including photo ID), and give you your name tag. Name tags will be created with both scene/screen name and the name you want to be called at the Con, color coded to distinguish hypnotists, subjects, switches, and observers from each other. Feel free to add preferred pronouns.

After 6p, you may be able to find someone to register you at the hospitality suite, but we're all here to enjoy the Con ourselves. You'll have to gamble. You MUST register, show proof of vaccination, and wear your name tag to attend!

If you would like to be notified via text when things happen that aren't on the schedule (e.g. where people are going for dinner; when the play parties start, etc.) you can choose to put your name and phone number on the Text List. We'll also be posting news to the Discord server.

Several people volunteered on the survey to be part of a Welcome Team, to introduce newbies to people, break the ice and help everyone get comfortable.

Friday and Saturday nights, VisibleRestraint and their partner will host a Kinky Hypno Play Party in their suite.

Flanelbear will host the Hospitality Suite, which is a great place to socialize, meet a hypno partner to play with, and see impromptu demos.

Unscheduled social time for the rest of Friday. We won't have the meeting room until Saturday, but the hospitality suite will be open (though limited in seating). Jarvis's Corner might sit another small group at the table, and there's a small restaurant inside the hotel.

This might be an excellent time for out of towners to visit Mr. S (in-store shopping has returned), since it closes at 6p. And of course all of the Tenderloin restaurants are nearby. Impromptu groups of people go out for dinner together based on food preferences, and maybe one place will draw a big group - it's a great way to get to know each other.

After dinner, you can join the play party, hang out in the hospitality suite socializing, or hit the SOMA or Castro bars. The SF Eagle will be within a 30 minute walk, or about 17-20 minutes on the Muni 9 bus, and I know there'll be a Hypnocon contingent there Friday evening. Or maybe you'll find a hypnotist or subject to play with privately in one of your rooms.

Saturday:

8:00a - 9:00a Registration in Jarvis's Corner (see above). You MUST register, show proof of vaccination, and get a name tag in order to attend! There's a brief window for latecomers, but it's important to get here in time for the first presentation:

9:00a - 9:50a Negotiation And Consent by VisibleRestraint [50] Enthusiastic, informed consent is required BEFORE engaging in any hypnosis at the Con, so everyone is encouraged to attend this workshop. There are nuances to hypnotic negotiation that might not be familiar to those of you who are old hands at BDSM consent negotiations.

10:00a - 10:50a Hypnosis 101 by JohnBear [50]

11:00a - 11:25a JoshSF will give a "Pre-Talk" [25]

11:30a - 12:20p Hypnovices: Sharing The Kink, And Onramps For Hypnocurious Doms by MindFoxxx Muscle [50]

12:20p Just before we break for lunch, we'll have the traditional (and optional) Group Photo taken [10]

LUNCH BREAK

1:30p - 2:20p The Awakenings Project: Preliminary Results Of A Formal Study Of The Erotic Hypnosis Community by SamHypnosis [50]

2:30p - 2:55p Hypnosis And Rope Bondage by VisibleRestraint and their partner [25]

(! No gap, in order to get one ten minute break instead of two five minute breaks)

2:55p - 3:20p Hypnosis And Working Out/Muscle Growth by GreyMuscleBear [25]

3:30p - 4:20p Kinesthesia Bootcamp - Wondertushy will awaken, develop and enhance our somesthetic (aka kinesthetic) sense. [50]

4:30p - 5:15p Horny, Tranced, And Stupid - a panel discussion by RicktheTist, VisibleRestraint, and Visible Restraint's partner (open to others who'd like to join in) [45]

6:00p (?) Group Dinner - location TBD

8:00p Kinky Comedy Stage Hypnosis Show performed by The Dominicator. A separate donation bucket will be there specifically for him, and we encourage people to enjoy this show even if they're not staying for the rest of Hypnocon.

Sunday:

9:00a - 9:55a Jarvis's Corner will again be manned briefly for latecomers needing to Register for the day.

10:00a - 10:50a Hypnosis And Neuro-Linguistic Programming by JoshSF

11:00a - 11:30a Hypno And Pup Play - Further Down And In by AnimalJSmith

11:40 - 2:00p SpiralBear will facilitate group participation hypno games. Fractionation Station and Speed Trance will involve everyone as either hypnotist or sub.

Checkout time at the Hotel Spero is 12p noon. You'll be able to store your bags in the hospitality suite, the meeting room, or with the front desk, so that you miss as little as possible Sunday morning/afternoon. We have the meeting room until 2:00p, and the Hospitality Suite for the rest of the day.

Many attendees are booked through Monday checkout, so the fun doesn't have to end - but we won't have the meeting room after 2p, so anything else will be completely informal.

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