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mypoisonedvine · 3 years

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𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙫𝙮 𝙢𝙚𝙩𝙖𝙡 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧 (𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘐𝘐) || sub!bucky barnes x dominatrix!reader

(𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘐)

𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮 || your newest client asks you to give him a real challenge, and you’re happy to oblige.

𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩 || 6.3k

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 || smut but no actual sex (lots of handjob stuff though and some brief oral m receiving), overstimulation, multiple orgasms, more cnc (because of the overstimulation), bondage, edging, impact play (riding crop), brief cock torture (she just hits him with the crop a couple times), implied “kink as trauma response” (this is gonna be a theme throughout the whole fic), forced to break a rule/doomed to fail/impossible challenge (idk how to warn for this but yeah), forced voyeurism?, thigh riding (reader rides bucky’s thigh), some degradation/dumbification, brief/implied dacryphilia, a bit of angst/feelings

new parts posted on thursdays! join the taglist here

“Can’t,” he sighed, “can’t come again.”

He looked so painfully adorable when he begged like that, his brow glistening with sweat as he jerked under your touch. “Aw, poor baby,” you pouted, twisting your hand when it stroked over the head of his cock, “yes you can. I know you can. Just gimme one more.”

“F-fuck,” he whimpered, “Mistress, please— just stop, please, I can’t… can’t take any more…”

“I know you can, sweetheart— I know you can be my good boy and keep coming for me. Tell me your color.”

“Yellow,” he whispered.

“Think you’re almost done?” you pressed, smiling when he nodded breathlessly. “Yeah, there’s my good boy— gonna come again for your Mistress?”

“Yes,” he breathed, baring his teeth as his hips bucked wildly to try to avoid further sensation, “y-yes, one more, just one more, I’m gonna— fuck, gonna come, just don’t stop… fuck, it hurts.”

“I know, but you’re being so good for me,” you purred. “You like it when I milk your pretty cock, don’t you? Even though it hurts?”

He winced but nodded. “C-coming, Mistress, fuck, I’m coming…!”

Since it was his fifth of the evening, he could only give you one thick drop of come that gathered at his slit before running down over your hand which finally slowed to a stop.

You both sighed with relief as you pulled your hand away and leaned back, admiring how beautiful he looked as he caught his breath, covered in come and sweat.

"Good job," you praised with a chuckle, "I hope I didn't go too hard on you."

"N-no, that was… that was really good," he sighed, slumping back onto the bed. "Can I use your shower before I go?"

"Yeah, totally," you nodded.

After a long pause, you gave him a confused look.

"I thought you were gonna shower?" you reminded him.

"Oh… I guess I have to get up for that," he sighed, making you laugh.

"Rest a bit longer. You've had a… challenging afternoon."

He nodded a little and you got up from the bed to go wash your hands and freshen up a little, smiling at your own appearance in the mirror— sometimes you forgot how you looked when you did this, but there was an undeniable aura of power around you… especially after a session like that.

This was only your third week with James, and already the dynamic felt so natural between you— and yet, so fresh compared to your other clients. Normally it took longer for a newbie to get comfortable with you, yet most of them had had multiple doms before and here was James, totally inexperienced and taking it all like a champ. There was an air of innocence about him, you figured, in contrast to this undeniable strength and intensity that you caught glimpses of from time to time.

Sometimes, it felt like he was chasing an innocence he lost a long time ago. Whatever it was that drew him to this, you were happy to help him along the way.

It was probably a little dangerous to enjoy sessions with a client so much; even though you often pretended that everything was about your pleasure and not theirs, obviously since they were the paying customer it was the complete opposite in reality. But there was an equity to the dynamic with you and Bucky, he served you with a real dedication rather than for his own gain. And you, meanwhile, had rediscovered the fun in this career that had originally drawn you to it in the first place. It was less like a science now, more like an art— you let yourself go with your instincts and do whatever felt right in the moment, and both of you benefitted for it.

“Come on, get up and clean yourself off,” you encouraged— gently, of course— as you left the bathroom and returned to find James laying sprawled out on the bed.

“I know you said falling asleep here was a one-time courtesy,” he remembered with a smile, “but I could use it now a lot more than I needed it then.”

Honestly, you didn’t see him smile that often. It was pleasant; you hoped to see it again. He did get up, though, and take the washcloth you handed him to wipe off the come that had gotten all over him. “What are you thinking for next week?” you asked as you leaned against the wall. “Any special requests?”

“We can discuss all that over the phone,” he decided. You still didn’t understand fully why he didn’t like to discuss future scenes in person; it was like he wanted the in-person interactions to be as ‘in character’ (if you will) as possible.

“Alright, just keep me updated,” you requested with a shrug.

You got changed while he took his shower, and when he emerged to the living room he seemed surprised to see you sitting on your own couch. After a moment, you realized it was the fact that you were in normal clothes that threw him off. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in jeans before… or pants of any kind.”

You looked down at your outfit with a smile, glad it was at least still professional and not sweats and a t-shirt or something. “Yeah, I guess you haven’t. First time for everything, right?”

“Yeah, had a lot of first times with you,” he chuckled. “Most significantly less mundane than this.”

A brief silence filled the room but it wasn’t exactly awkward, at least not for you.

“Well, I’ll see you next week,” he decided as he grabbed his jacket from your chair and slipped it on. You’d been spending most of this session trying to forget how good he looked in the leather motorcycle cut, so that was out the window now as you tried to keep from visibly biting your lip while he walked towards the door.

Damn, he was fine. But there were more pressing matters at hand. Like preparing yourself and your apartment for your next appointment. This guy wanted to get slapped around until he cried… shouldn't be too difficult, but your arms would probably be sore tomorrow.

Opposite of last week, I really want you to edge me tonight, as long as possible.

Don't go easy on me, make me hold it in. I need a challenge this week.

-J

It was odd how emails from James made your week.

He seemed to prefer to communicate his desire with you this way; maybe it was easier for him, and you couldn’t really blame him for that. The nice part was that you didn’t have to temper your reactions, if you had any, since you were always alone when you got his messages. You might be old hat at it now, but you could remember a time that you had to hide a grimace when a client told you to your face what he wanted. Not that you would shame them for it or anything (unless, you know, they paid you to), but you didn’t enjoy everything you did with these men.

Did you enjoy everything you did with James? Yes, but you were pretending not to— for your own sake.

You dressed a bit differently for today’s session, more conservatively… not that it was especially conservative by any other person’s standards. But it left your legs and chest covered, somewhat in the spirit of ‘mean corporate businesswoman’ aesthetically. For some reason you felt like using a riding crop required wearing pants.

James certainly didn’t seem to mind, with the way he nervously cleared his throat after you opened the door.

“Good to see you again,” you greeted formally, “please, come in.”

He stepped past you, still looking at you and not at what was in front of him, meaning he ended up slamming himself gut-first into your kitchen island.

“Oh! Are you alright?” you smiled when you noticed.

“Yeah, I’m good,” he nodded, rubbing his stomach for a second but recovering quickly. “I told you I can take a lot of pain,” he joked.

“Well, we’re going to put that to the test today,” you promised cryptically. “You must’ve seen the crop on the table.”

He nodded again. “Yeah....”

“Are you looking forward to it?”

“Yes,” he answered, a bit too quickly.

“Then let’s get you tied up, James.”

Straddling his lap, you realized the rope was a bit too tight when you saw it digging into his skin; maybe he wouldn’t mind that, but you did, so you pushed the rope back through itself to loosen it slightly.

“How long did it take you to learn all these knots?” he asked casually, watching your fingers nimbly work the ropes around his wrists.

“Not too long,” you shrugged, “I’ve only been doing this a few years… but I knew them before that.”

“Boating school? Boy Scouts?” he suggested jokingly.

“Just a hobby,” you decided, dodging the covert question about your past. “Were you a Boy Scout?”

“Do I look like a Boy Scout?” he countered with a scoff.

“Not anymore,” you shrugged, “but I bet you did once. You’re sorta innocent, you know.”

He swallowed dryly, and you raised an eyebrow as you glanced from the knot you were tightening to his face, which looked a bit flustered. “R-really?”

“Yeah,” you confirmed, leaning back on your heels to look at him straight-on. “Are you surprised to hear that?”

He nodded quickly, and you laughed.

“Aw, you thought you were so kinky, huh? So dirty,” you purred, running your hand up his leg until he tugged slightly on the newly-tied ropes— a subtle way to get him to test them for you. “But you’re really not. You’re just my sweet, innocent boy.”

He whined— really, properly whined— and you dug your nails into his skin until he hissed instead.

“I don’t think you believe me,” you noticed, leaning back to reach for the crop behind you. “You think you’re so filthy and perverted, right? Are you a pervert, James?”

“Yes,” he breathed, shivering as you let the crop slide gently over his skin— his abs, his hips, his legs which were already quivering so adorably. “Yes, Mistress.”

“And how’s that?”

“I think about… getting hurt,” he admitted weakly, “when I touch myself. And I touch myself all the fucking time.”

“Yeah? How many times a day do you stroke that pretty cock, James?”

“Twice every morning,” he blurted out, “after that it depends.”

You didn’t let yourself show your surprise at that number. “Depends on what?”

When he hesitated, you hit him sharply on the thigh and he winced. “Depends on what I… what I end up thinking about. Sometimes… sometimes something reminds me, and I have to get off.”

Something told you not to press on what it was that he needed to be reminded of, and why it made him want to jerk off so bad. Something told you he wasn’t ready to tell that story yet. “Did you touch yourself today already?” you asked instead.

“No, no ma’am,” he shook his head, voice wavering as you brushed the crop over his chest, “it’s… it’s different with you.”

“Yeah, I bet it is,” you smirked, hitting him on the stomach quickly. “I bet you’re finally satisfied, right? Nothing’s ever worked for you before.”

“Yes,” he moaned, crying out slightly when you hit him on the arm (flesh— you were too afraid what sound the metal one would make) much harder than before. “The nights I see you, I… I can sleep.”

“You sleep better?”

“No, I just… sleep.”

You tried not to react to that, moving to a new question instead. “Do you want me to hit you again? Or do you want me to stroke your cock for you?”

An obvious choice to some, surely, but he seemed to really struggle with it.

“Which one do you think you deserve?” you asked instead.

“Hit me more,” he decided.

Instantly, you struck him once on the face and again on the shoulder, then moved down to his legs for three in a row in spite of the way his body jerked away instinctively.

“Fuck,” he sobbed, “don’t stop— I need more…”

You focused on his legs, on the inside of his thigh where he seemed the most sensitive. His twisted joy turned to true fear, though, when you brushed the end of the crop over his balls. “Do you want me to hit you here?” you challenged.

“I… I don’t know,” he stammered.

“Let’s make a deal, James,” you offered, “wherever I hit you, I’m gonna kiss it to make it better.”

“Then hit me wherever you want,” he nodded, almost smiling at you. He cried through his teeth when you whipped his shaft with the crop— not especially hard, in fact quite delicately, though the second was harder. And the third, though not much more aggressive, was right on the sensitive tip; his eyes shot open and his hips jerked away.

“So good, such a good boy,” you whispered proudly, putting the crop aside to lean in and kiss his cheek where you’d hit him before, his shoulder, his arm.

You worked your way down carefully as he breathed heavily beneath you, whimpering slightly when you kissed his thighs and notably ignored his flexing, leaking cock. “Please,” he whimpered.

“Shh, be patient,” you soothed, “be my good boy.”

“Your good boy,” he repeated, trying to restrain himself but already bucking up into the air again, “fuck, wanna be your good boy, Mistress.”

“Are you already close, pet, just from getting hurt?” you asked in a faux pout. “You’re not gonna come if I give your pretty cock some kisses, right?”

“I— I won’t come,” he promised. “Not until I get permission.”

“Baby, it’s gonna be a long fuckin’ time before you get permission,” you promised with a toothy grin. “Look down at me, honey, I want you to see this.”

He hesitated for a second but obeyed, looking down at you with an expression that was full of awe as you gripped his cock and gave gentle, teasing kisses up his shaft. It bobbed in your hands with each one, and he let out the most beautiful sigh when you kissed the tip carefully.

A wide lick made him jerk beneath you. “F-Fuck,” he stammered.

“You said you wouldn’t come,” you reminded him. “Can I keep going? Are you gonna be a good boy?”

“Don’t stop, please,” he breathed, “I’ll be good.”

Taking the head between your lips, you suckled gently as he shivered and moaned. You weren’t sure you’d ever been with anybody— on or off the clock— who was so sensitive. And you loved it, honestly; who could resist those precious noises he made?

As much as part of you wanted to go nuts and really push him to the edge, you tried to be gentle and careful so as not to make it impossible for him to hold back. But even then, when you gently grasped his balls in one of your hands and squeezed them, he apparently couldn’t take anymore.

"S-stop," he hissed, and you pulled back, sitting up.

"You were close?" you asked, and he nodded a little. "Oh, what a good boy."

He whimpered briefly. "Yes, your good boy, Mistress…"

Your fingers trailed delicately up the underside of his cock, making him shiver violently. "I know you want to come, but you want to be good even more. You're such a sweet little pet."

It seemed like the praises did more to keep him on the edge than the touches, so you kept both going; wrapping your fingers around the ridge of his head, you gave the most gentle and subtle strokes, and leaned in to whisper against his ear.

“Is this why you wanted me to edge you today, James? So you could show me how good you can be?”

“I-I don’t know,” he blurted out, rocking his hips as best he could while restrained, “I just wanted to… I just wanted you to make me wait.”

“Well, you don’t need to worry about that,” you laughed slightly, “I can make you wait all day. Is that what you want?”

“No, that’s— not that long, I can’t wait that long,” he shuddered.

“Mm, that sounds like your problem, not mine,” you smirked. “Not sure why I asked what you want, honestly… cause I don’t fucking care.”

His choked-out whine was too perfect to ignore.

“Oh, what a pathetic little moan that was, poor baby,” you cooed mockingly, “are you regretting it now? You’re probably wondering what you got yourself into, ‘cause you’re worried Mistress is never gonna let you come.”

“No, I don’t regret it,” he denied weakly, “whatever you want— do whatever you want to me, just… give me what I deserve, please.”

You stopped touching him completely and he straight-up sobbed. “You don’t deserve anything from me, James. You don’t deserve me at all.”

He told you before that he liked when you rapidly cycled between soft and mean. Kept him on his toes, apparently. Honestly, you felt a little guilty talking to him that way sometimes, but his cock leaking enough pre-cum to soak the bedsheets beneath him was a sign you were doing something right. “I know!” he cried. “I know, fuck, I’m sorry, but I need you. I fucking need you, Mistress, please— you know I’ll do anything.”

“I’m feeling generous today,” you shrugged, “so I won’t ask you for much. Just beg me a little more.”

“Please, pleasepleaseplease,” he rushed, “touch me. Anywhere, whatever you want, I just need to feel you. I know I… fuck, I know I don’t deserve it, but let me try to— to earn it. Please.”

You knew if he had it his way, he wouldn’t do much talking at all. But you couldn’t just let him have it his way, now could you? It was better to make him just the right amount of nervous, just the slightest hair uncomfortable, by making him talk to you. And, of course, you liked the way his deep and rough voice got all whiny and needy like this.

One finger under his chin guided him to look up at you, those pretty blue eyes watery and sparkling and wide with misplaced innocence.

“Tell me who you belong to, James,” you instructed darkly.

“You, Mistress,” he whispered, “I’m yours, I— oh fuck…”

Unshockingly, he was reduced to only moans again when you started stroking his cock, the slick precum making every movement smoother. “All mine, huh? My little toy?” you confirmed, but he could only nod and swallow thickly.

You sped up quickly, getting faster and faster until you were really, properly jerking him off and he was biting hard on his lip. Just when he seemed to really fall into it, get almost comfortable, you had to stop.

"Oh, fuck—" he gasped, bucking his hips up to try to chase your hand when you pulled away, but it was no use with him tied up. You watched his cock bob in the air and smiled.

“Did you think it was going to be that easy?” you smirked.

Shaking his head, you tilted yours to look at him, reaching up to trace your fingers over his chest.

“Don’t lie, baby, you thought I was gonna let you come, didn’t you? You’re so sweet, James, and so, so stupid.”

He gasped, and for a second you thought you might’ve gone too far, but it shifted to a moan quickly and you realized he was having the time of his life.

“Just my dumb, brainless little toy,” you continued with a snarl, watching him tug at the ropes as his eyes fluttered shut. “It’s okay, James, it’s okay… you don’t need to think, I don’t want your mind. It’s useless. I want this pretty cock, that’s all I want from you.”

“It’s all yours, Mistress,” he promised, cheeks burning bright red and eyes forced shut. “All of it, I swear.”

“I know,” you cooed, holding his face gently to soothe him a bit. But then your other hand wrapped around his cock and he was anything but soothed. “Shh, shh, don’t make any sounds, you’re just a toy and toys need to stay quiet.”

You missed his noises, actually, but he looked so cute biting his lip and struggling to suppress them. His cock was so swollen in your hand that you honestly wondered if it was somehow getting bigger. Was that even possible? Your mouth was watering regardless.

“I’m gonna give you a little break,” you promised gently, “but I’ll be honest, pretty boy… I don’t think you’re gonna like it one bit.”

The look he gave you beautifully balanced fear with anticipation, and you stopped stroking him to reach over towards the bedside drawer and pull out a vibrator.

“Your Mistress is feeling a little.... self-indulgent today,” you winked. “And since I, unlike you, don’t need to hold myself back from coming, I think I might as well get myself off if I want to.”

His throat bobbed as he swallowed dryly, watching you closely as you stood up off the bed and started to carefully undress yourself. It was a lot more fun to get naked when you were wearing something that didn’t actually show much skin— the button-up seemed to really get him going, his tongue mindlessly darting out to lick his lips as you opened one button at a time.

Once it was off your shoulders and on the floor, and he could see the almost-transparent bra you had on, you moved to opening your trousers as well. Just to be mean, you faced the other way as you pushed them down over your ass; you heard his breath catch and you smirked to yourself, spinning to face him again in just the matching, dark red bra and panty set.

“What do you think, do you like this better than the black ones?” you asked coyly.

“I like you naked better than both,” he answered, and you grinned.

“I’m gonna let that backtalk slide just once because it’s not worth my time to go over there and slap you for it,” you decided. “But don’t test me, James.”

“Yes, Mistress,” he answered dutifully, sounding a bit out of breath as he watched you climb back onto the bed, positioning yourself carefully.

You faced him straight-on and laid your legs over his, meaning your lace-covered pussy was in full view and only inches from his leaking cock— the damn thing looked sore by now, purple at the tip and just as desperate for attention as the rest of him.

When you pulled the fabric aside to show him your cunt, he hissed and looked away.

“Look at me, James, keep your eyes open,” you demanded, seeing how totally wrecked he looked when he turned his head back to you and stared down at your body with half-lidded eyes. “Look at how fucking soaked my pussy is. You remember how it feels to be inside it, don’t you?”

He swallowed, sighed, and finally (just barely) nodded.

“You remember how hot and wet and tight it is, don’t you?”

“Y-yes,” he choked.

“Well, that memory’s all you’ve got to work with, sweet boy, because I don’t think I’m ever gonna let you fuck this pussy again.”

He really, properly sobbed, tears streaming down his cheeks, and those arms flexed against the ropes defiantly. “N-no, please—”

“I’m gonna make myself come with this,” you promised, interrupting him as you grabbed the vibe, “and I want you to remember how it feels when I come around you, okay?

Turning it on, you wasted no time pressing it to your clit, moving the end of the toy in slow circles and keeping a close eye on him as he watched you. Your intention had always been to give him a show, but the embarrassing thing was how little of it was an act. Ironically, even though you’d been edging him this whole time, having to touch him that way without any pleasure for yourself was almost as torturous. You’d soaked through your panties by the time you had him tied up, to be totally honest. So, giving into it and letting yourself feel good was a breeze.

“Think about when I was riding you, James,” you instructed, your own voice clearly affected by your pleasure now. “Think about how good it would feel if I let you come inside me.”

“Oh, god,” he cried, leaning his head back.

“Think about my pussy milking every fucking drop of come out of you. You know I wouldn’t let you stop until I was completely full of your come, I bet you’d like that. I bet you’d like to eat your come out of me, you sick little pervert.”

“Fuck!” he yelped, tugging at the ropes harder now— for a second you thought he might really break them and jump you. And for a second, you knew you’d let him. It made your walls clench as you imagined facing the consequences of driving a man to the brink of insanity until he couldn’t help but fuck you like an animal. It was a good thing he didn’t see you bite your lip as you imagined that.

“You know what I’m thinking about?” you taunted.

“God, don’t tell me,” he sighed through his teeth, but obviously you ignored him.

“I’m thinking about what a good boy you are for me,” you cooed, your hips starting to rock up against where you held the end of the vibrator; you pressed it down harder onto your clit and moaned instantly. “Yeah, I’m thinking about how pretty you look when you’re all desperate and needy and fucking pathetic—”

“Oh—” he choked.

“My dumb litlte whore, that’s all you are, James,” you groaned. “I know you wish you could touch me, it’s all you can think about, right? That pretty head of yours would be completely empty if it weren’t for thoughts of me and how badly you want me. Right?”

“Yes,” he whispered huskily.

A shiver ran up your spine when the vibrator bumped into a more sensitive part of you, and you did it again and again until you thought you might lose it a bit faster than you meant to. “This toy feels really good,” you informed him in a purr, gasping when you slipped the vibrating body of it into your pussy, “but it doesn’t feel as good inside me as you do.”

His eyes fell shut but he still winced a bit every time you made a sound; he couldn’t run from this, no matter how hard he tried.

“Oh James,” you moaned loudly, fucking yourself with the vibe for a moment before you pulled it back out to focus even harder on your clit, “I’m gonna come. I’m so, so close… I can feel it getting stronger, I think I might make a mess on these sheets. And the only way I’m ever gonna let you come is if you watch me do it. So open your fucking eyes.”

He blinked quickly as he opened them, gaze scanning your whole body before settling on your cunt; you were sure he could see it pulsing as you got closer and closer, you knew he was imagining how it would feel. You only spared a brief glimpse at his cock, bobbing between his legs, and wished you could just slip it in you now and come while it stretched you out.

But that wasn’t what he was here for, sadly, and you were sure you were the only being truly denied of your desires, despite how it probably seemed from the outside.

“Oh my god,” you breathed, numbness starting to tingle in your legs as your orgasm built up quicker than even you expected. “I’m coming— James, I’m coming, oh, fuck… right there— yes!”

A gush of heat warmed your cunt at the same time that shocks ran up your spine and down your limbs; you could feel your legs shaking, and you knew he could, too.

It got so intense for a second that you had to pull the vibrator away, though you didn’t stop coming until a few moments later, eyes falling shut without you meaning for them to.

You actually laughed a bit, breathlessly, as you turned the vibe off and set it aside, although you weren’t sure exactly what was supposed to be funny about this per se. When you opened your eyes, you saw James looking down and looking positively defeated. But he looked tense, too, and you sat up on your wobbly legs to get closer to his face.

“Relax, James,” you told him firmly as you examined him.

“I— I can’t,” he whispered.

“Why not?”

“I’ll come.”

Nothing could fight your wide grin anymore, not when you heard that. “Oh, baby… are you about to come without even being touched? Is that how much you liked watching Mistress come?”

He nodded, ever so slightly, and you laughed. Not quite a mocking laugh, moreso impressed. Prideful, even. You leaned in to give a wet kiss to his neck, licking over his pulse as he shivered violently.

“That’s my good boy,” you whispered against his skin. He whined and you cooed soothingly right away, “oh I know, I know. It’s so unfair, isn’t it? Mistress gets to come and you don’t…”

“Please,” he stammered, “I’m so close, let me come, please.”

“But I don’t wanna see you come, baby— I wanna see you cry.”

You started to slide your hand down his chest and he jumped up to attention as he tried to squirm away. “No, please, don’t— don’t touch my cock, not if I can’t come.”

“You can hold it in, can’t you?” you pouted.

“No, I can’t, I can’t,” he sobbed, watching fearfully as your hand moved down to his stomach and over his hips.

“But I thought you were my good boy,” you frowned, suddenly wrapping your hand tight around his cock as he choked on a gasp.

“Mistress!” he sobbed. “Please, don’t— don’t move your hand, I’ll come.”

"Never fucking tell me what to do," you instructed firmly, just barely stroking as he cried weakly. "I'm gonna touch you however I want and you're not gonna come because you're my good boy, right?"

"No, Mistress, I can't stop it, I'm gonna come— stop, please…"

"You'd better not fucking come," you hissed through your teeth, speeding up your movements and watching his eyes shoot wide open, "you'd better hold it in until I'm done with you."

"I'm trying— please slow down, can't take it—"

You shook your head, tutting disapprovingly. "No, baby, I tell you what you can take."

"Oh— oh god, Mistress, please, please stop, please, I c-can't— fuck!"

You pulled your hand away the second his cock started to flex but it was too late: come was shooting from his swollen tip and painting his chest and stomach. You didn't even wait until he was done to backhand him across the face.

"I'm sorry!" he yelled. "I'm so sorry, I couldn't help it…"

You softened slightly when you heard his broken voice, saw the desperation and fear on his face— it was real, more real than the fake ‘no’s and the encouraging pleas for mercy. "Baby, it's okay, you tried so hard," you soothed instantly.

Hope filled his eyes just as much as tears as he looked up at you. "Am I still your good boy?"

"Always," you smiled, caressing his face where it was already turning red from your slap.

You reached down and caressed his cock with the back of your fingers, watching it flex weakly.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, alright?”

His lip twitched, almost like a wince. “Do we… do we have to stop?”

You quickly glanced at the clock. “Um, no,” you mumbled, “we still have time. Just tell me what you want.”

“I wanna watch you come again…” he admitted softly. “Is… is that okay?”

Although you weren’t sure what you’d been expecting, you were still surprised. “Yeah, sure.”

“But… but closer this time,” he added, “not so far away.”

You were literally laying on top of him, how did that count as far away?

“I wanna see your face,” he clarified.

“Okay,” you nodded, deciding to indulge him. It was sort of like aftercare, except that this wasn’t exactly the ‘after’ part yet.

On your knees beside where he was leaning back against the headboard, you slipped your hand down into the lace panties again, finding your clit still swollen but not too sensitive. A little gasp fell from your lips when you touched it, rubbing it carefully with two fingers while he looked up at your face.

You felt slightly exposed when he watched you this close, and you didn’t know where to look to avoid direct eye contact. Looking at his lips was just a little too tempting, so that wouldn’t work.

“My hands are a little tired,” you explained, “they might cramp up. Maybe I could use your thigh…”

“O-okay,” he nodded, and you removed your fingers from your panties to sit down on the thick muscle of his leg. You felt him tense up under you slightly, and you carefully began to rock your hips until your clit rubbed just right against the inside of your underwear. Surely he could feel how wet you were— actually, you both could hear it, almost a wet clicking-like noise as the soaked lace slid against your skin.

The dynamic shifted slightly, not that you minded it, as he watched you ride him carefully. Just as he couldn’t hide much from you when he was naked and tied up and baring his soul to you in the kinkiest way possible, you couldn’t hide your pleasure from him when he was looking at your face so up-close. You let your hands carefully roam his body, narrowly avoiding the trails of cooling come he’d left on his stomach and chest, until you found his strong shoulders and held onto them for balance.

“Fuck,” you mumbled to yourself, biting your lip as your sore clit throbbed against his hard, muscular thigh.

“Will you… could you kiss me?” he requested quietly, and your heart broke a little bit. You shook your head, and he nodded in understanding.

“I’ll kiss you here,” you offered instead, whispering against his skin before you pressed your lips to his forehead, then his cheek, then his jaw. “Is that better, James?”

“It helps,” he agreed in a sigh.

“I’m close,” you warned quietly, pressing your cheek to his and weaving one hand into his hair. “I’m gonna come again, on your thigh.”

“Let me touch you,” he begged, “just a little, please…”

You nodded, about to reach forward to untie one of his hands, but he snapped the ropes and you had totally forgotten he could do that. He quickly ran his touch all over your body, calloused hands and bound wrists in stark contrast to your soft skin. The metal one was a little cold but it didn’t bother you; the other was almost too hot, and it was like being warmed and cooled all at once.

He ran his fingers down your spine, he gripped one of your shoulders, he rubbed your legs: he did everything he must have been wishing he could do this whole time, even gasping as he ran one hand up your chest and over a cup of your bra. Just as you sensed that he was about to ask if he could touch you there, you nodded and felt his metal hand tug down the red lace and grab your breast— thankfully not very hard, though he did give your nipple a quick pinch which made you gasp.

Burying his face in the crook of your neck, he finally settled his hands on holding your hips, just tight enough to slightly guide your movements as you rocked faster and more desperately. “Please come,” he begged weakly, “Mistress, please… use me.”

It sort of hit you all at once then, like a punch to the gut. Except, you know, a lot more fun than getting punched in the gut.

“James,” you gasped, legs quivering where they straddled his as a new patch of slick soaked the lace (and presumably his thigh as well). He held you tight, kept you moving through it while your fingers tangled in his hair and your mouth fell slack for another, louder moan.

The way his lips moved over your skin, laving your collarbones and pulse point and the innermost corner of your jaw, was positively worshipful; reverent. “Mistress,” he whispered, almost sounding like praise but tinted with awe. Your movements slowed down to a stop and the two of you breathed a sigh together, unintentionally. “Thank you,” he mumbled.

“What for?” you asked, blinking quickly and looking down at him, coming back to reality (though you weren’t quite sure where else it was that you had just been).

“I dunno, everything,” he decided.

“Don’t thank me,” you smiled. “Keep paying me, though.”

He laughed a little, glancing away. “Yeah, and I’ll pay you back for these ropes… sorry."

"No, hey, don't be sorry," you dismissed, getting up off of his leg and standing up to go grab a towel for him. "I'm just sorry we still haven't found anything strong enough to hold you."

"It's fine, they're strong enough to make me stop myself when I want to do something I shouldn't, that's all that really matters."

You nodded to yourself as you dampened the towel and came back to wipe him off.

"I can do that for myself," he reminded you, sounding a bit embarrassed, but you thought it was sweet.

“You just focus on getting those ropes off of yourself,” you decided with a little smile.

#sub!bucky barnes x domme!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut

2K notes · View notes

spacedikut · 3 years

Text

the very insecure dr reid ; spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x gn!reader

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

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

masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Has anyone seen Reid? Y/L/N?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

+++

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

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

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

It’s terrifying how quick the tides can change.

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

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

He has to cancel the date.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And there starts the spiral.

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

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

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

It gets worse when they deliver the profile.

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

And you. You.

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

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

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

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

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

+++

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

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

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

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

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

But Spencer has always unwittingly been full of surprises.

“We can’t go on that date.”

Instantly you ask, “Why not?”

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

“I’ve got time.”

“We should go to sleep-“

“Is it your mother?”

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

“And reschedule?”

“No.”

“Oh.”

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

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

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

“Yeah.” You sniffle.

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

+++

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

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

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

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

“They’re mad at me.”

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

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

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

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

“Obviously.”

“…You wanna go ahead and explain it?”

“Not really.”

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

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

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

“Why’d you cancel, Reid?”

“I had to.”

“You had other plans?”

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

Derek waits for him to elaborate.

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

“Have you asked them that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Come with me.”

“What?”

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

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

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

“Relax.”

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

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

“It’s not, pretty boy.”

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

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

He reads it.

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

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

“What…What is this?”

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

“I need to talk to them.”

“Yes, idiot, you do.”

+++

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey-“

“No.”

“Oh.”

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

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

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

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

You speak at the same time.

“Why are you-“

“I wanted to-“

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

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

You gasp.

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

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

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

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

“How… Did you steal it?”

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

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

“So… Why?”

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

“I have an eidetic memory.”

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

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

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

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

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

Touched feels like an understatement.

“Y/N…”

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

“Y/N.”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

“Oh.”

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He swallows deeply before speaking.

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

“You want to have a date right now?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

+++

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

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

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clanwarrior-tumbly · 3 years

Note

Family member anon, here I go.

S/o visiting with Ron and they friend bob for chaotic day, only some peoples have a ability to break the fourth wall including Ron and bob but Ron s/o have the ability to escape this game to visit irl. During totality not stealing bob and bossip place during Ron talking about want to escape this “game” Ron s/o felt bad and didn’t know Ron feels, after Ron song is over s/o decided to bring Ron with them. Before Ron hit by a car ron s/o teleport with Ron to escape this “game” and saved Ron from a random car, Ron is happy with s/o and finally in peace until returning the “game” to invite bob for a relaxed time

Ohh I love this! Ik Ron's dialogue at that part is all jokes but I can make angst out of that :)

..........

"So lemme get this straight-"

"I'm totally straight, haha."

"Would you be serious for ONCE in your life?!!"

"Bob, be nice."

"...fine. Anyways, you got fourth-wall powers like us?"

"Yeah, and then some." You shrugged at the white blob, smiling.

It was true. You were among the few individuals who were self-aware of the fact they're in a popular rhythm game called Friday Night Funkin', especially the mod universe. But you hailed from the outside world, where it was only seen as a game and nothing more.

Despite this barrier you've made a lot of friendships, and found love in the folderhead, of all people.

When you realized him and Bob infiltrated a mod called "VS Bob and Bosip" and turned it into a "Bob's Takeover" update, you decided to visit them.

You've met the stars of the original mod before the update, learning they were also self-aware as they tried getting to The End of Minecraft and ended up in this game instead.

After mentioning them, Bob had a plan to rap battle the pair, joking about wanting to earn the rightful title of "Bob". And he wanted Ron to accompany him for unknown reasons, but you didn't mind. You figured they moved past their rivalry from Bob's own mod.

So you hung out at a different section of the park, finding some other people to sing with.

One of those ended up being Keith and Cherry, but you still referred to them as "Boyfriend" and "Girlfriend" often. They didn't possess the level of self-awareness that you did, but Keith wanted to challenge you and you happily obliged.

It was an easy battle for the most part, but the moment you finished, Cherry noticed two figures rapidly approaching:

Bob but in a yellow shirt with the word "Gloopie" on it and a blue wig, and Ron wearing attire similar to Bosip's, a spiky yellow wig included.

As they recognized who you were with, they began acting unusually out-of-character, with Bob spewing violent threats to Keith and forcing him into another rap battle. Ron looked traumatized, as though he didn't get a choice to put on this outfit.

You wondered what was wrong until he finally broke down when Bob finished singing.

"You know me, right? I'm Ron. I was featured in the mod "Literally Every FNF Mod Ever"...VS Bob? You gotta remember that, right?!" His hands shook as he stared at the blue-haired singer, who seemed clueless.

"Ron?" You were worried, assuming he was having some sort of existential crisis. "You okay?"

"I was murdered..and stabbed. My body was used for satisfaction by Bob..and....I-I was tortured for years on end." He stammered over his words as he turned to you with tears in his eyes.

Unfortunately your suspicion was correct. According to Ron, he truly did die in that mod, only to be revived by real-world forces and used as a "puppet" for likes and fame. The fact he couldn't live a normal life with you and was trapped in this stupid game felt like an eternal punishment for him.

You had no idea he felt this way all along, or how he came to be self-aware on such an extreme level.

Had you known sooner....you felt so guilty.

"I can't do this..I CAN'T!! GET ME OUT OF THIS FUCKING TORTURE!!" Ron pulled at his wig, which to stuck to him like real hair. "[Y/n]..I-I can't take this..GET ME OUT OF HERE!!" He grabbed your shoulders, panicking and sobbing. "I CAN'T KEEP LIVING LIKE THIS!!"

"Ron, Ron...it'll be okay." You hugged him closely. "I overheard Bob and Bosip say they had to sing to get out of this game. How about we try that, hm?"

Sniffling, he nodded and muttered an "okay", perking up as he spun around to face Keith. He seemed wildly concerned about both Ron's odd speech and sudden mood swings, but forced a smile upon seeing that he was about to be challenged.

"Rap battle?"

"Okay."

As bizarre as Ron's song was, it was quite catchy and amusing to say the least. Though even with all his craziness, he remained no match for Keith.

"Unfair! I didn't have a 4th-wall break meltdown for nothing!" Ron threw his microphone to the ground in defeat as the music stopped.

"You did your best, though." You tried staying optimistic, but Bob just snickered and Keith just rolled his eyes and left with his girlfriend.

A few moments later Ron stormed out into the middle of the street in a fit of anger, and your eyes widened as you saw a car speeding down the road.

"LOOK OUT!!"

"Huh?"

You decided to use your powers and take his hand, teleporting you both out of the game seconds before the car could hit either of you, leaving a Bob-disguised Bob all alone.

"..where the fuck did they-"

...........

"Oof..where are we?"

"Uh...my room." Helping Ron stand up, you smiled and pointed to your computer. "See? Your icon on the mod's main menu is blank. You're outta there finally."

He stared at the screen for a second, perplexed by what just happened. But then he looked all around your room as the realization finally hit him.

He was in your world. Actual reality.

Finally free.

"FREEDOM AT LAST!!!" He spun around and embraced you, his smile stretching to the edges of his head. "This is so pog, oh my god oh my god."

You chuckled and hugged him as well, relieved that you were able to save his life and bring him to your world. After hearing what he's been through, you knew he needed this.

"So now that we're outta there..can I ask what's with the whole Bosip getup?"

"Oh..right." He blushed as he stepped back and looked towards a nearby mirror. "I thought it would make me look cool and distract me from the agony of my own self-awareness. Sorry if I scared ya back there."

"Don't worry, I understand. You look cool in any outfit." You chuckled, before another thought occured to you. "By the way, Ron?"

"Ye?"

"After Bob calms down maybe we can...go back in the game and fetch him so he can get a taste of the real world, too."

"..........."

"....you can do that?? We should probably find Little Man, while we're at it."

"I don't think he's as self-aware as his dad yet-"

"Oh don't worry. He's 27 so he knows."

".......wait he's almost THIRTY?!!"

#clanask #family member anon #fnf x reader #friday night funkin x reader #fnf ron x reader #ron x reader

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dreaming-about-fanfictions · 4 years

Text

Choose Me Instead II Draco Malfoy x Reader II Chapter 5 of 27: You

Summary: Pretending to be in a relationship with Draco Malfoy to get back at your ex might have not been the smartest idea you ever had. Especially during your last year of Hogwarts where you should be focusing on exams and your future plans. However, you were just pretending. There was no way in hell you could actually catch feelings for someone like Malfoy. … Right?

CHAPTER 4

A/N: A chapter from a different perspective! I hope you all like it <3 And thank you so much for your support!! I love you all so muuuuuch!!!

Words: 2300 Pairing: Draco Malfoy x female!Reader, post-war Warnings: none

Draco Malfoy wasn’t easy to impress. Being bored quickly by other people was one reason why he never had many close friends – and yes, he knew how utterly arrogant that sounded. It was the truth however. He was friendly with most of the Slytherins but his mother always taught him “Quality over quantity” and he agreed. Draco went so far as to apply that mindset to his love life as well. Yes, before the sixth year of school, he used to like to flirt and he had dated the occasional Slytherin girl. He was also very aware of the fact that there had been quite a few girls with crushes on him. In some cases, he even reciprocated them, however, those feelings faded quickly.

So you couldn’t imagine how much it bothered Malfoy that he wasn’t able to stop thinking of you. Not even in his dreams did you leave him alone and so he kept on going back to that evening on the Quidditch field. Until today, it was entirely unclear to him why he told you all those things. He didn’t know anything about you yet speaking to you left him feeling … good, almost. After a year of trials and coming home to find his family and life in shambles, there was no one left to talk to. No one he wanted to talk to. To whom was he going to turn? His friends which were all coming from the same pureblood Death Eater families? Yes, of course, they understood – and also they didn’t. Not quite. Did you understand him? Probably not, he guessed. After all, you were a Gryffindor and fought on the right side of the war. The winning side. But talking to you felt different, almost easy. You grew up in another world than him and maybe that was the key to it all.

Obviously, Draco didn’t plan on repeating that evening. You were friends with the whole Potter and Weasley bunch. It made it even harder to trust you – how could he be sure you hadn’t already told your Gryffindor friends and were laughing about him behind his back? It was possible. A part of him didn’t want to believe this possibility and another part reminded him of all the times he was disappointed and got hurt by the people around him. It was probably for the best to stay away from you.

Yet he didn’t stop thinking of you. He saw you looking at him in the Great Hall during meals, watched you from walk away when you passed him in hallways and the library. Without noticing it, he always chose a place behind you in class. Draco didn’t understand the urge to be close to you. It was utterly ridiculous for Merlin’s sake. You were a Gryffindor; one of the good ones. He wasn’t. Not at all.

Maybe it was because of the kiss, he wondered at some point. Maybe you hexed him in this moment. Draco knew this theory was very far-fetched but it was the only logical explanation fin his mind. Why else would he keep thinking back to that moment in the storage room? He didn’t deny that you were witty and smart and very beautiful – he wasn’t blind after all – but so were lots of girls. What the hell was so special about you that you wouldn’t leave his thoughts?! It couldn’t be your taste in men as you obviously didn’t have any. At least there wasn’t a reasonable explanation for him for why someone like you would get with someone like the Weasel.

“Draco,” Blaise’s voice pulled him out of this thoughts. “You coming?”

Draco nodded. “Yeah, just a second.”

He got up from the table in their shared dorm, putting his notebook in the drawer of his nightstand. Two months since school started and he had almost filled in all of its pages. Draco started writing during the first trial of his parents last year. It kept him focused and helped him put his thoughts in order. It soon became a daily ritual which helped him stay grounded. Draco carried it around in his bag during the day, using it in between classes and meals. His friends caught him doing it a lot and he was sure they had already guessed what it was. He was glad when they didn’t say anything because in the end, Draco would have rather died before admitting that he was using a diary.

“You’re not wearing a costume!”, Astoria exclaimed when he joined the others in the common room. Pansy, Blaise, Theodore and the Greengrass sisters were already waiting for him.

There was a Halloween party happening in the Room of Requirements tonight and his friends had convinced him to go even though it meant more awkward conversations with Astoria.

“I thought we’re not doing muggle traditions. What are you supposed to be?”, he asked instead, taking in her revealing outfit.

She giggled. “I’m a healer. Or ‘nurse’ as the muggles call it.”

“Ah,” Draco made, thinking that she didn’t look like a healer at all. “I thought Halloween was supposed to be scary?”

Astoria rolled her eyes, before linking their arms with each other. “You’re no fun. Don’t you think I look pretty?”

“Astoria, you can wear a potato sack and still look absolutely stunning.”

That answer seemed to satisfy her and they started making their way towards the exit of the common room. Draco glanced at her from the side. She was, objectively speaking, the perfect match for a Malfoy. Coming from a well-respected and wealthy pureblood family combined with her intelligence and beauty, she was everything his parents could have wanted for him. Especially now.

You had told him what to do. It was such a simple solution to all of his impending problems. However, it had been the moment where Draco had realized that you grew up differently. Not a day went by where he didn’t receive a heartbreaking letter from his mother. He knew, she just wanted the best for him and she didn’t want to manipulate him; she was simply desperate. Desperate for the live they used to have – a husband at home, a son with a promising future, money and a respected place in society.

Draco had asked himself countless times what the marriage would truly mean. His family would have another chance. Together with Astorias family, his future was secured. A good job, maybe even in the ministry if he was lucky. Enough money to take care of his mother. Who knew, maybe his father would be out of Azkaban sooner? Draco marrying Astoria would lessen his families suffering, that was for sure. But did he want that? Did he want a simple and easy solution to make their past crimes … disappear? His family was far from innocent. They had committed horrible crimes in the name of the Dark Lord – and a part of him knew, they deserved everything they got in the end. Hell, he wouldn’t have been surprised if they sent his mother and him to Azkaban as well.

When thinking about the engagement, another thought popped into his head. Could he learn to love Astoria? Would he be happy with her? Maybe. Maybe not. Draco knew only one thing for sure – there was a reason why he kept resisting to the whole idea. Giving in felt like sacrificing another part of himself to something his family had burdened him with.

“And Astoria, I disagree,” Blaise once again disrupted his train of thought by joining in from the right. “Draco can quickly make his costume appear. Just roll up your sleeves, Dray, and the Gryffindors will shit their pants on the spot.”

The rest of the group snickered but Draco didn’t react. Instead he suppressed the urge to touch the mark on his left arm and shoved his hand deeper into the pocket of his pants.

***

The Room of Requirement was absolutely crowded.

The Slytherins were surprised by how many people had actually appeared. Almost everyone from the sixth and seventh grade was here, wearing mostly ridiculous costumes. Music roared from invisible speakers, students were dancing and talking loudly.

“I’m surprised that the teachers didn’t already break this up,” Blaise almost had to shout. “Or Filch.”

Draco shrugged. “I feel like they stopped caring this year.”

“Maybe they feel responsible for all those deaths,” Theo suggested.

“So to make up for all the trauma, they allow us to party?”, Blaise concluded with an amused undertone.

“It’s good for us though so stop talking and start drinking,” Pansy chirped and grabbed Draco and Theo by their arms, pulling them towards the table with a few questionable bottles.

When his friends started chatting about the usual Hogwarts gossip, Draco’s eyes started to wander. He was searching the crowd for someone. You. Were you here? Did you even like parties? Draco had no idea. You always looked quite social from what he witnessed.

And there you were – standing in a group of people, listening to Granger who was gesticulating wildly. You were holding a drink and laughing at whatever the other girl told you. Draco noticed from across the room how your eyes were gleaming, your face red from the alcohol. You looked so careless. He swallowed hard at the sight.

“He’s either staring at Weasley, the mudblood or Y/L/N,” Zabini said to the others in that moment. “Don’t know what’s worse.”

Draco needed a second to understand his friends were talking about him. “What did you just say?” He turned to them.

Zabini grinned widely at him. “I said, you’re staring at the Gryffindors again, Draco. It’s fucking weird. What’s your sudden obsession with them?”

Draco quickly glanced at the rest of his friends. Daphne, Theodore and Pansy watched the two of you with a smirk on their lips, maybe even suppressing a giggle. Astoria looked at Draco with a worried expression.

“No, what did you just say?”, Draco repeated his question, straightening up slightly. “What did you call Granger?”

Blaise snorted. “What?”

Draco just stared at him.

“I called her a mudblood,” Blaise gave a half shrug.

“Yeah, what the fuck, Blaise,” Draco spat out.

“Come on, Dray,” Theodore tried to intervene. “It’s no big deal.”

“It is!” He looked at him, visibly disgusted.

“What’s your problem, Draco?”, Blaise raised an eyebrow, shifting from one leg to another. “You called her a mudblood for years and now you suddenly have a problem with it? You’re acting so weird this year, seriously.”

Before Draco was able to reply, Astoria carefully placed her hand on his arm. It took all the strength he had, not to immediately shake her off. “Come on,” she said softly. “Let’s get you a new drink and calm down.” She pulled him a few steps away from the group.

Draco gritted his teeth, remembering what he had thought about not being able to talk to his old friends. They understood – and also they didn’t.

“Are you okay, Draco?” Astoria asked, still looking slightly alarmed.

Draco looked at her. Did she want to hear an honest answer? “Sure,” he finally said.

She didn’t buy it. “You’ve been acting strange for a while now.”

“I’m really not.”

“Draco,” she reached for his hand. “I know you.”

He sighed and rubbed his eyes with his free hand. “Can we … can we not talk about this now? Here? With all these people around us?”

“There’s always a reason not to talk so we might as well do it here,” she pressed on.

Draco could think of a thousand different things he’d rather do than talk to her right now. “I’m … I’m not acting strange. It’s just a lot. With my parents and all that.”

Her smile changed from worried to pity. “I understand.” Did she? “That’s why I think we should move on.”

What kind of weird reaction was this? “Move on?”, Draco frowned.

“With our engagement.”

“Right.”

Astoria squeezed his hand. “I don’t see why we can’t just make it official.”

Draco looked at her fingers as if he was searching for a ring that he had forgotten existed. “Because the whole thing isn’t official yet,” he slowly said.

The brunette let go of his hand. “It’s going to happen anyways. My parents won’t stop talking about it and I bet it’s no different for your mother.”

Draco just wanted to get out of this situation. He got dragged here and now it was just one big argument. Why couldn’t they have stuck to gossiping and partying? “Why during school though?”

He saw how Astoria stared at the ground for a moment. When she started speaking again, her voice had become a little colder. “You know, there are a lot of men who would jump at this opportunity. My family is well respected and yours is …”

Draco let out a short whistle. “Thanks, Astoria,”

Astoria was visibly uncomfortable and Draco wondered if she regretted what she had just said. “That’s not how I meant it and you know that, Dray. I just don’t understand why this takes you so long.”

Draco put his hands on hips, pushing his jacket back. “Excuse me if I’m wrong,” he started, “But I’m not exactly your first choice either, am I?”

The girl didn’t answer right away. When she did though, Draco wanted to laugh at the sheer absurdity. “It’s not about what I want. It’s about what my parents want. Pureblood marriages will happen less and less in the future so we will be a good union.”

“Right,” Draco mumbled with a sad smile. It’s all about the family.

Astoria cleared her throat. “Well, are there any reasons why we shouldn’t move on?”

“Yes, there are.”

This didn’t come from Draco or Astoria. Irritated by the sudden interruption, he turned around to see who had so rudely eavesdropped on the conversation.

You.

***

A/N: Even though I wrote this, I really felt for Draco in this chapter. His life (like so many other characters lives in HP) is so f****** up. Sorry but I can’t find a better word for it. Poor Draco. Anyways - I hope you liked it!! I’d love to hear what you think <3 I love reading your comments *-* (if you don’t comment or do anything, it’s fine, don’t worry, I just love to read your thoughts <3)

CHAPTER 6

“Choose Me Instead”-Masterlist HP-Masterlist

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If you want to be added to my tag list, let me know <3

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mevekagvain · 3 years

Text

Chapter 93 - Fancy chair, love it.

- So my theory is that Raizel just never learnt how to write in Lukedonian either.

- Tbh the janitor is suspicious. Like how hard was he googling M-21?

Chapter 94 - SUYIIIIIIIIIIII

- Ah geez the first of the racistly depicted characters.

Chapter 96 - Suyi getting mad at the kids for complaining about Hansu is so funny like when she first appears you think she's perhaps a stuck up celebrity or a pushover but it turns out she's just a really sweet friend.

- Suyi being stunned by Rai's looks but not falling for him (same with Yuna) is one of the things I always liked about Noblesse. Like sure in the first meeting they get blushy but I'll just jot that down to the inherent beauty of nobles since I can't relate to it at all.

Chapter 97 - Frankenstein's house always being stocked with so much food because the kids just started coming over daily is hilarious. Even funnier since Frankenstein obviously thinks it's overkill but is the one stocking up anyway.

Chapter 98 - Regis and Seira 🥺 Seira's og outfit was the best one she had like it only goes downhill from here folks.

Chapter 99 - It would have been so funny if Frankenstein went "they must be cosplayers" instead of realising the two were nobles.

- Regis taking all the initiative shows how it's his roadtrip coming of age journey which is pretty clever. Also Seira's just like that but still.

- Shinwoo stop exercising in class bro. Do not flex on the rest of us this is so rude 😭😭😭

- Regis confidently saying he's a noble in class to humans he doesn't plan on mind controlling... Baby boy why are you so dumb? How is this hiding your identity??? And Seira just lets him,,, good for her.

Chapter 100 - Ah yes their elegance boner at seeing Raizel... nobles are so fucking weird.

- M-21 thinking he won't get any information because of his time at the Union and thus being surprised at how open Frankenstein is is actually really sweet. Like yeah I still think Frankenstein is an unethical and questionable person but he is kind to most humans (werewolves and nobles can go fuck themselves I guess lmao).

Chapter 101 - The second hand embarrassment I felt when M-21 called the two noblesse... how do I even consume content?

- Yeah 100% most union members don't know the difference between nobles and vampires. I bet they'd classify jiangshi as either mutants or werewolves. Or to be more specific, that would be the classification given to low leveled members. On one hand I think it's dumb that the Union gives members twisted information because how would they even use it? But on the other hand it makes sense since it prevents said members from seeking nobles for help. After all, if they believe even the 'noblesse' are vampires that drink blood, than obviously they won't see them as possible escape routes.

- 'Noblesse only applies to one person'. Yeah because Rai's brother is fucking dead. And so is whoever was his predecessor/parent.

Chapter 102 - Those bullies got backup so fucking fast like Shinwoo literally just asked Regis and Seira if they were okay then boom! They're back.

Chapter 103- Regis going ??? essentially when Shinwoo tells him to take care of Seira is so funny like yes ofc he's confused she's literally a clan leader + noble females aren't physically weaker + noble women work out just like the men.

- Rude, Regis. You can't just ask someone why they're mingling among humans. You're doing that too. Who doesn't mingle among humans smh. Even cats and pigeons mingle with us.

Chapter 105 - Love how everyone else in the household is so sick of ramyeon like Raizel stop please you're being selfish.

Chapter 106 - Frankenstein is the definition of the 'right in front of my salad?' meme at Regis and M-21 arguing at the dinner table. Then there's Seira and Raizel just waiting for the noodles to get soggy so he can't even eat. Wish Urokai could see him getting tortured like this.

- The soldier rejecting backup because he knows the enemy is the Union hurts my heart. Wanting to prevent casualties... iwi

Chapter 107 - Shark how tf do you not know about South Korea? That's one of the asian countries people actually know about. I guess maybe it's because this is from around a decade back? K-pop is more recent and made the country more visible I guess.

- Ah yes Takeo. Forever known as "the first time I read Noblesse and he appeared I thought he was Marie's sister since they had the same hairstyle". Like I thought that before even learning about the Aris Taivra fiasco. My power 😔

- Oh don't worry M-21, Frankenstein stopped experimenting on people 830 years ago. You know, as one does.

Chapter 108 - Shark has like no general knowledge. Geography? History? Tf is that I guess.

- Tao saying they're the worst possible people for the job is so funny like yeah he's right. "All we do is massacre people in warzones why are we in Seoul?"

- The rest of the squad complain or are confused about the peace meanwhile Takeo is vibing. He's the normal guy TM of the group.

- Ah yes noble lore. If you take canon at face value than the fact that nobles were around when humans first emerged and there being about 2-3 clan leaders before the current generation means you can estimate their lifespan. Ofc it differs wildly depending on how you interpret the 'first humans' part. I'll assume there were 3 generations before the current generation (mvp lord being the third generation) and won't be adding the current generation since a 0.5-2k years is kinda meaningless. I'll also be assuming that mvp lord entered eternal sleep at around the same age as his predecessors and that he would have died soon from old age anyway (since canonically they do have limited lifespans). If we assume it's just the first human ancestors (7 million years ago) than the average pureblood lifespan is 2.33 million years. If we assume it's when homo sapiens started to emerge (300k years ago) than it's 100k years. If it's about modern humans (130k years ago) than it's 43.3k years. Regardless I'll ignore it since my hcs are that nobles are effectively immortal unless killed and that the 2-3 clan leaders is a misconception due to a mix of Gechutel just straight up lying, because there are clans that have had fewer clan leaders, because I have nobles settling on Lukedonia only 30k years ago, and because Gechutel is factoring in his own age of 10.2k so it's more like 'There have been 2-3 Ru clan leaders before the Ru clan leader 10k years ago since after we settled in Lukedonia'. There's also the possibility that nobles didn't have lords or clan leaders until a few thousand years ago in canon but the species has existed for much longer.

- 'Nobles are individualistic... They don't despise humans but don't love them either.' Humans w/ ants. Now if the ants were capable of speaking with us it'd be exactly the same situation.

Chapter 109 - "What were they researching here?" Since when does the Union research anything aside from human modifications Kranz? Why do you even need to ask? More seriously this means that the Union doesn't actually only do human experimentation and weapons lmao. The other shit just isn't relevant I guess. It's a shame, I'd have loved to see how a lab focused on like, fixing up polluted waters, would be fit into the story.

- The fact that Tao beat Jake up is never mentioned enough. Also confirms that Jake was lying out of his ass about being the strongest.

- Marie being the weakest assassination squad member is interesting like I know why Crombel doesn't need bodyguards as the reader but you'd think the Union would be suspicious of him not having a stronger bodyguard. Also I still can't believe the Union doesn't bother learning who the members are aside from the ones Crombel tells them about like. Bro???

- Shark calling Takeo uptight is hilarious because the guy literally just shot the falling ceiling light which is the opposite of uptight. Either he was preventing them from getting hurt/being caught or he wanted that to happen considering the fact that he shot it and it shattered. And then he just goes back to leaning against the wall. Takeo please 🤣

Chapter 110 - And Shinwoo's still staying over at Ikhans place. Wonder when he's gonna move back. I really love their dynamic like yeah I beg my sister to get me food all the time too. Also love the apron and skeleton hoodie.

- Shinwoo went through the five stages of grief pretty quick huh? Like yeah it's his own misunderstanding that Ikhan is dating someone but still. Homophobia is annoying as always though.

Chapter 111 - Suyi paying for their food is so sweet of her and also I relate so much like yeah mood that's me and no I don't want to be paid back.

- Takeo,,, the fact that he just hands his wallet over because he doesn't like violence and doesn't want to beat them up,,, my heart. Otoh... how did he even get cornered in an dark shady alleyway lmao.

- Aris managing to make herself look like a teenager as Taivra is interesting since Takeo says he wants her to be able to go to school like Yuna and Shinwoo when he's treating them. I guess she looks younger without makeup.

- Takeo just straight up pointing his gun at Shark in public because he mentioned Taivra... anger issues much? I understand why but taking your gun out is an overreaction.

#noblesse #raining while reading

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ti-bae-rius · 4 years

Text

Malec couple’s yoga one shot

“I can’t believe you agreed to this.”

“What? Yoga is a really great training activity. It keeps your muscles strong and toned and is great for flexibility and stamina.”

“Flexibility and stamina? I do like the sound of that.”

“Magnus!”

The two of them walked along the streets of New York, both in workout gear – though that phrase meant two wildly different things for each. Alec’s runes were glamoured and he wore his training gear – sans the heavy leather fabric shadowhunters donned for battle – which mainly consisted of a pair of loose jogging pants and a t-shirt that (like all Alec’s t-shirts) had seen better days. Magnus, however, had taken this as an opportunity to acquire some truly magnificent new clothes. A tank top reading ‘I’m heavily meditated’ and a pair of tight-fitting joggers, cuffed at the ankle and tailored to hang just right, completed Magnus’s outfit. Alec had to smile. No one else, in the history of workouts, had tailored yoga pants. But then no one else was quite like Magnus.

“We don’t need mats or anything, do we?” Alec asked, as they passed under the archway into Central Park. “The information seemed really vague. Do you think it’ll run over – my mom can only handle Max and Rafe for so long.”

“All this worrying doesn’t seem very zen of you,” Magnus chastised, taking Alec’s hand and swinging it like they did when they were making Max and Rafe ‘fly’ as they walked along the paths. Alec always thought this was somewhat of a big ask from Max, who actually could fly without the aid of Alec’s arms that were usually already somewhat tired from demon-hunting all day. Nevertheless, their squeals of joy made it all worthwhile.

A small throng of people were gathered, couples stretching together and chatting, in Central Park’s Sheep Meadow. Though still busy, it was somewhat less crowded and tourist-populated than the majority of the Park. Alec squinted to look who was there as the two of them walked closer and leaned up to whisper to Magnus, “There’s more gays than I thought there’d be.”

“Oh please, couples yoga is for three sets of people: bohemian lesbians who have squeezed this in between sensual pottery and live drawing where they only draw Cate Blanchett, straights whose marriages are on the rocks and are in desperate need of closeness not derived from brushing past one another on the way to write something on their family planner by the fridge, or gay couples – that’s us – whose marriage is just where it’s supposed to be.”

“And who want a brief moment of respite from their children – one of whom transforms into a bat when annoyed and one who loves annoying his brother?”

“I don’t think that’s quite as universal as you might expect,” Magnus pointed out and Alec laughed.

Thankfully, no one else seemed to have yoga mats. Despite Magnus’s assertions, most of the couples here looked calm and happy to be there. Alec relaxed a little and when a man and woman came over to introduce themselves as the instructors, he leaned casually against Magnus’s side, content to let his husband do the talking. He glanced round, watching the sunlight filter through the leaves of a nearby tree, mottling the grass below it with little pools of soft illumination. This was pretty nice, he thought, a feeling of serenity washing over him. Maybe Magnus was right, maybe Alec did just need to loosen up and relax, try and enjoy these new experiences. Maybe they’d become that couple, the couple that did yoga in the park and had brunch with their kids where they didn’t even drink mimosas or bloody marys because they didn’t need the pick-me-up of socially acceptable mid-morning alcohol. He’d always thought Izzy would be that person.

“Right,” the female instructor said in a voice that commanded the group. Though she’d raised her voice to gather them, she still sounded soft-spoken. “Let’s all find a space and let that space be our own bubble. Today, you and your partner are one being, two halves of one yogi. Together, let your hearts find a space. Be led by your shared heartbeat.”

Magnus and Alec exchanged a look and Magnus raised an eyebrow. Perhaps this was a little…much. Alec gave Magnus a miniscule frown and mouthed “that’s not very zen”. Magnus rolled his eyes but put a hand out and rested it on Alec’s chest, then put the other hand to his own.

“Our collective heartbeat is telling me that we should get out of here,” he said, with the same whimsical timbre to his voice that the instructor had. “It also says that the guac in the refrigerator needs eating tonight.”

Alec gave an inelegant snort and the instructors looked over at them. They didn’t look annoyed – Alec wasn’t sure people who were that at peace could be annoyed – but Alec schooled his expression into neutrality.

“I think just here is fine for our bubble,” he said and Magnus nodded, eyes glittering with amusement.

“I see we have some new energies in our space today,” the male instructor said, his speech with the same gentle lilt as his wife’s. “We welcome you into our family.” Magnus tried very hard not to think of how much this sounded like late-stage Crimson Hand rhetoric. “For our new friends, let me introduce us. This is my wife, Kelly, and I’m Gareth. Family, let’s emit some extra good vibes today to make our new souls feel welcomed and cherished.”

Alec firmly kept his eyes on the instructors instead of giving Magnus the weighted look he wanted to. Okay, this seemed a little full-on, but they’d just got here. They couldn’t judge it yet.

“What we’re going to do is start with a really easy pose that will help to solidify your connection to your partner and maintain your unity throughout our time together today,” breathed Kelly. “Let’s start with a stacked child’s pose. One half of your team transition now from mountain pose down to child’s pose, copying Gareth.”

Alec and Magnus exchanged looks and Alec shrugged, watching Gareth fold himself down onto the floor, facedown, as if having an existential crisis. Alec copied, and immediately felt the grass tickle his nose. From somewhere above him, Kelly continued talking.

“Now for our other halves, gently climb on your partner’s back and settle into the same pose. This is a really easy starting position and will keep us grounded and unified ready for our next step.”

Alec was about to say something when he felt Magnus’s weight settle atop him, pushing him further into the tickly grass. He breathed around the extra weight on his spine and Magnus bent to whisper in Alec’s ear.

“Wanna admit I was right to say we should’ve left?”

“No, this is very soothing,” Alec mumbled, and coughed on the grass that got in his mouth.

“Also, why is this child’s pose? Have Gareth and Kelly ever seen a child? If Max and Rafe were laid on the floor on their faces like this, I’d call an exorcist.”

“Shhh, I’m getting in touch with my inner peace,” Alec mumbled, and spluttered again on the grass in his mouth. “And also with this dirt.”

After a few minutes of relative calm, Gareth’s voice rung out, soft but commanding.

“Let’s all return to mountain pose now, stretching our arms up over our heads to transition to extended mountain.”

When Alec straightened up again, he glanced around, just to make sure he wasn’t being pranked. But no, a dozen other couples were all doing the same as them, lightly holding their hands above their heads, arms outstretched toward the sunny sky of New York. He settled back into it a little and tried to relax, wondering if relaxing was meant to take this much effort.

“Now we’re going to move into couple’s tree pose,” Gareth instructed. “Stand beside your partner and raise the arm closest to them into the air, touching their palm with yours. You can interlock your fingers here for extra emotional support, if you so desire. With your outside leg, rest the flat of your foot against your upper thigh, and bring your outside hands together to press flat against one another in the space between you.”

“Are you interlocking our fingers for emotional support?” Magnus whispered and Alec huffed a laugh.

“I’m doing it for structural support. I’m on some uneven grass and I feel like I’m about to fall over.”

“Consul Lightwood?”

Alec spun so fast that Magnus stumbled sideways, righting himself just in time and shooting Alec a furious look. In fact, the whole group were staring at them, looking as displeased as a group of people who had dedicated themselves to inner peace could look. Which, to be fair, wasn’t that displeased.

“Is there something disrupting your practise today?” Kelly asked, and Alec gave a nervous laugh.

“Just give me one second,” he said, staring off into the treeline where the call had come from.

“The forces outside your bubble are of no consequence during your practise,” Gareth told him, but Alec was already starting to walk over to the trees. Magnus gave a shrug to the instructors and an apologetic glance to the others in the group.

“He’s got a bad knee,” Magnus explained lamely and set off after Alec, jogging to catch up with him as he spoke to two younger shadowhunters. They couldn’t have been more than sixteen and were gaping up at Alec – and now Magnus too – with wide eyes.

“So how about I report back that you guys have been doing some great work on patrol, and you don’t tell anyone about…that,” Alec bartered. The two shadowhunters nodded and hurried off, casting looks over their shoulders as they went, heads bent together as they whispered. Alec looked at Magnus and burst out laughing. “Okay, you were right. We should’ve left before it started.”

“You mean you don’t want to get in touch with our shared heartbeat and become one soul in two bodies?” Magnus asked in mock-offence.

Alec gave him a sly side-eye and took his hand. “I didn’t say that. I’m sure we can work something out. We still have the apartment to ourselves for an hour or two before we have to get the kids.”

“What happened to ‘my mom can’t cope with them for too long’?” Magnus challenged, a devilish glint in his eye.

“She’ll be fine,” Alec assured him.

“Why are we going to yoga night school?” Magnus asked as they reached the building indicated on Alec’s phone.

“Because it’s the only class I could find in the area when we had someone to watch the kids,” Alec explained. “Don’t worry, I made Simon promise to make them dinner.”

“Well hopefully this one is less traumatic.”

Alec groaned. “Don’t remind me. At least in a building we don’t risk random shadowhunters walking past.”

“Unless they’re in the class too!” Magnus pointed out chirpily and Alec shot him a glare as they went inside.

Much like the last class, people were milling about in couples. Alec gave the crowded hallway a quick scan but couldn’t see anyone they knew – thankfully. Alec relaxed a little. There were about the same number of couples here too, around twelve, and Alec couldn’t tell who the instructors were. Mostly people were talking in soft voices, sipping bottles of water, and leaning affectionately into conversations with their partner. Magnus glanced around.

“What kind of yoga is this?”

“I don’t know, tandem or something,” Alec said. “It was the only one available, but it looks good. The website said something about building trust and closeness or whatever.”

“Clearly imperative for us,” Magnus said dryly. “What with us being so distant and untrusting and all.”

Alec rolled his eyes but smiled.

Before he could respond, a door opened at the end of the hall and a woman emerged in a pair of leggings and a sports bra. She smiled at them and beckoned them all in. As Magnus and Alec passed her in the door, she turned and beamed at them.

“You must be our new sign-ups. I hope you enjoy the class and feel more in touch with yourselves and your bodies when you leave.”

No cult-like mentions of joining a family, or bubbles, or shared heartbeats. Alec heaved a sigh of relief and gave a glance toward Magnus, who was looking around the room. Everyone did seem quite touchy-feely, Magnus thought, but brushed it off. What else should he have expected from couple’s yoga – particularly couple’s yoga with a majority hetero clientele? He and Alec took a seat at the back of the studio, removing their shoes like the others had done and putting them behind their mat, and chatted between themselves until the woman who’d greeted them stepped to the front of the room with her own partner, a tall and well-built surfer-dude type.

“So as most of you know, I’m Carly and this is Dale, and we’ll be your guides tonight. As always, please feel free to take breaks as you need them, communication with your partner is encouraged, and remember to open a conversation after tonight’s class about what you learned about each other and yourself. These classes can really prompt strong feelings, and those should be embraced and discussed in a non-judgemental and loving way.”

“How intense is this class meant to be?” Magnus whispered to Alec, who shrugged, looking a little nervous. Was this for expert yoga-people? Yogists? Yogurts? What kind of relaxation came with a warning?

“While Carly lights the candles and I bring the lights down and close the blinds, feel free to come to rest in any pose that feels comfortable for you. Perhaps that’s child’s pose, a seated position, or maybe even corpse pose,” Dale said, and began readying the room.

“I’m starting to think we might all end up in corpse pose by the end of the night,” Alec hissed quietly, glancing round. “This looks like how most demonic rituals begin.”

“Maybe this is all a trap and Elyaas is just trying to get us to let him see Max again,” Magnus suggested and Alec laughed, looking round at the other couples to see how they were sat. Many were laid side by side, like bodies in mortuary shelves, but a handful of them were laid on their sides, pressed close together as if they were cuddled in bed. Alec raised his eyebrow sceptically and settled for sitting with his legs crossed before him, his back against Magnus who was in the same position.

“I’m getting in first to say we should leave now,” Alec whispered, eyes closed. “Just so if this is as bad as last time, I’ll get to be right.”

Alec felt Magnus’s shoulders move against his as he chuckled, then start a little as Dale spoke again.

“Okay, excellent. Let’s all slowly move to sit opposite our partner, ready to start the session with some synchronized breathing. You can do this in whatever way works for you. You could put a hand on your partner’s chest to feel their inhales and exhales. You could close your eyes and focus on the sound of their breath or maintain eye contact and build a direct channel of communication. You could hold hands. Or you can just meditate, keeping your inhalations and exhalations as one with your partner.”

Alec shuffled round to face Magnus and immediately had to close his eyes. Something about staring into the face of your significant other in a quiet and meditative room made you immediately want to burst out into loud and obnoxious laughter. Instead, he let Magnus’s hand find his in the dark of their closed eyes and tried to match their breaths. Despite himself, Alec relaxed, his shoulders drooping, jaw unclenching. Being a shadowhunter wasn’t a relaxing job, and it was sometimes hard to find time to de-stress. Maybe he’d judged this whole thing too quickly, put off by the last time. Actually, this was pretty nice.

After a while, Carly’s voice came softly through the haze of meditation, instructing them to gently come back to the present. Alec blinked open his eyes and met Magnus’s soft gaze, smiling. Maybe this wasn’t so bad after all.

“Okay, now we’re going to move to our first real position, yab-yum,” Carly said. “You can stay crossed-legged for this, though one of you will have to move a little. One partner will stay seated and the other will climb into their lap, hooking their legs around the other’s back, coming to rest in a lotus position. Dale and I will be transitioning into yab-yum so you can observe us if you get lost.”

Magnus beckoned Alec forward and put his arms around Alec’s waist as the shadowhunter settled onto his husband’s lap, feeling a little uncomfortable doing so in a crowded room. He glanced around to confirm this was right and found everyone else doing the same.

“Relax, we’re married,” Magnus grinned and Alec nodded, laughing to himself. Magnus was right. This was totally innocent; he was just being coy.

“Gently, you can start to rock forwards and backwards,” Dale instructed, resting his hands on Carly’s hips. “Just a slight movement is fine to start. You can time this to your breathing. Breathe in, rock forward. Breathe out, rock back.”

Magnus raised an eyebrow but shrugged, following as instructed. Alec wrinkled his nose. Was it just him or did this feel weirdly…intense? Even personal?

“Are you starting to get seasick?” Magnus teased and Alec shook his head.

“I’m just really confused. What is this meant to do?”

“Help us breathe together I guess. Though, I don’t want to brag, but I’ve been breathing for centuries and I’m pretty excellent at it. I’m currently on my high score of most breaths breathed. I bet I’ve been breathing way longer than all these assholes.”

Alec laughed and tried to relax into the exercise, but he couldn��t help feeling strangely fidgety, like something wasn’t right.

“For a more connective experience,” Dale said. “You can add extra elements, especially if you’re the partner sat on the floor. Try rocking your lower back as well and raising your hips towards your partner’s.”

Alec and Magnus exchanged confused looks, and Alec felt his eyes widen when a few nearby couples began breathing more shallowly, less controlled. Magnus covered his mouth to stifle a laugh at Alec’s scandalised expression.

“Did you know—” Magnus began and Alec shook his head vehemently.

“Is this…” He dropped his voice and mouthed, “sex yoga?”

Magnus gave a loud snort of laughter and Alec shushed him, but the laugh was contagious and the sound came out disjointed and breathless. Instead, Alec put a finger to his lips, and looked up at the ceiling, trying not to meet Magnus’s eyes and start their laughs again. It was going well until Carly gave a breathy sigh and continued.

“This pose represents the mother and father in the act of sexual union, and really appeals to both genders’ need for interpenetration.”

“Well this isn’t going to help us at all then,” Magnus muttered, rolling his eyes.

Alec lost his composure completely and gave a cry of amusement that was smothered too late by Magnus’s hand. Both of them were laughing now, bent forward towards one another with tears in their eyes. Alec could feel the disapproving stares of the other people in the class and tried hard to compose himself, but it was no use. From somewhere above them, someone cleared their throat and the two of them looked up to see Carly stood there, with a face like thunder. And who could blame her, Alec thought. Two total newbies had signed up for her class, been totally blind-sided by what it actually was, and had some kind of hysteric moment in the middle of their session. Before she could say anything, Alec climbed to his feet and pulled Magnus up after him by the hands, still grinning uncontrollably.

“I, ah, don’t think this is our class,” Alec muttered apologetically.

“Yeah, I’m sure it said Bridge club was next door,” Magnus added and Alec had to press his lips together so he didn’t laugh in the poor woman’s face. Alec swept down, grabbed his shoes in one hand and Magnus’s in the other, shoved a pair at his husband, and stumbled gracelessly from the room, weaving between yab-yumming couples, and shutting the door quickly behind them.

As soon as they were out of the building, the two of them exploded into laughter, the sound ringing out on the quiet New York streets. It was already dark, though not even gone seven, and Alec sank down onto a bench to lace up his sneakers, still shaking with amusement. Magnus was bent double, wiping a tear from his eye.

“Tantric, you idiot,” Magnus wheezed. “Tantric yoga, not tandem.”

“I don’t know what that means!” Alec protested, gesturing to the building. “Who does sex yoga at seven on a Thursday evening? It’s a school day tomorrow!”

Magnus cackled and threw his head back, reminding Alec of their very first date, the two of them howling with joy at the awful subway rappers. It was the first time Alec had remembered really letting go, really surrendering to the idea of being happy. There, walking the streets with Magnus back to the apartment that wasn’t yet his home too, Alec hadn’t thought about what anyone else would think, or if someone he knew would see him. All he could think about was those terrible performers, and the way Magnus’s laugh sounded like someone opening the door to the rest of his life, and the whisper of evening air like a great spirit whispering at him that he could finally relax.

Walking home, hand in hand, Magnus nudged a hip against Alec’s playfully.

“So, it’s super important to start a conversation after tonight’s class about what you learned about each other and yourself,” Magnus said, imitating Dale’s rolling Californian drawl.

“I learned that I should read the description of things properly before I book them for $60 a person,” Alec said.

“$60?” Magnus demanded incredulously. “You paid $120 for us to sit in a dark room with a bunch of horny couples and sit on each other’s laps?”

Alec rested his head on Magnus’s shoulder and laughed into the fabric of his jacket. “I just wanted us to have a good night out away from the kids and spend some time together.”

“I like movies, you know? And dinner, and the theatre, and literally anything where a woman doesn’t say interpenetration to me in a room full of other people.”

“Come on,” Alec urged, grinning. “Let’s at least take something from it. What did you learn?”

“I learned…that you are very, very attractive when you laugh,” Magnus said, leaning down to kiss the top of Alec’s head, feeling his husband nestle further into his shoulder. “How about you?”

“I learned…” Alec laughed shyly and straightened up, squeezing Magnus’s hand. “I learned that sitting on someone’s lap while they laugh is a unique experience that is not entirely without it’s…appeal.”

Magnus glanced at him and quirked an eyebrow. “Oh really?”

Alec shrugged and Magnus spun Alec round by the hand.

“I’m sure that could be arranged,” Magnus said softly and watched devilishly as Alec went fantastically red. “Come on, let’s go. Luckily for you we have a ridiculous life so there’s plenty of things to laugh at to get you all hot and bothered.”

Alec swatted at him and shushed him, looking around the near-empty street.

“We can start with the fact that your husband still turns you into a fumbling mess.”

“You’ll always do that,” Alec reminded him, and shot Magnus a winning smile that sent Magnus into his own state of unravelling. “We could swing by Simon and Izzy’s and get the kids early.”

“Or…” Magnus said, with a familiar look in his eyes and Alec’s mouth quirked in a smile. “I don’t know why you look so smug; I was going to suggest we sat in silence and timed our breaths to each other,” Magnus said and ducked away, chuckling, as Alec went to grab for him.

When Alec inevitably caught him, he wrapped his arms around Magnus, pressing a kiss to his neck. “What is our life?” he sighed, and Magnus tilted his chin down so his lips met Alec’s.

“Perfect,” Magnus answered fondly. “That’s what.”

DISCLAIMER

This is a fun fic - don’t take it too seriously. No not all yoga is like this, not all tantric yoga is about sensuality or sexuality, but some of it is and that’s great too. Just...take it in the spirit it’s meant.

#malec #malec fic #Magnus Bane #Magnus and Alec #Alec and Magnus #Magnus x Alec #Alec Lightwood #alec lightwood bane #magnus lightwood bane

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therealjordan23 · 4 years

Text

Huelet Week 2020: Day 1 - Bad Boy AU

Violet Sabrewing had been the tutor of high school heartthrob, Huey Duck, for about seven minutes now, and she already regretted accepting the "offer of a lifetime," as Webby had described the job.

Her best friend, Webbigail Vanderquack, had grown up alone in Scrooge McDuck’s mansion for the first 10 years of her life… until Donald Duck had shown up with his three rowdy triplet nephews: Huey, Dewey, and Louie Duck. Needless to say, the four spent the rest of their childhood together, and Webby grew close to each of them. In fact, she was even dating one of them. Violet got along fine with Dewey, Webby’s boyfriend, and Louie, her sister's boyfriend, but Huey? He was the school's bad boy, and was also dating the meanest girl at Duckburg High, Gosalyn Mallard. The spunky redhead loved making fun of Violet because she was a straight A student, who was in Junior Woodchucks, and did tutoring on the weekends.

Huey on the other hand was your typical bad boy: he was incredibly handsome with messy light hair, and intense, yet dreamy, dark eyes. Violet remembered he used to wear a simple red polo shirt with a red hat back in their freshman year, but now Huey preferred to wear all black, and usually left his hair wildly untamed. She also remembered how sweet and kind he used to be, but that had all changed when he began dating Gosalyn. He went from being in the Mathletes and Chess Club to the star quarterback of the football team. Huey was also captain of the basketball team, much to Dewey’s dismay. Violet was sure she saw him at a select few Junior Woodchuck meetings, but it felt like he didn’t want to be seen attending those. He went to parties every weekend, skipped class, he was everything that Violet wasn't, but Violet couldn't help but be attracted to him.

Which brought her back to the present—Webby had come up to her a couple of days ago, asking her to tutor Huey.

“He’s being recruited by a bunch of these big schools, but he’s been slacking off. I told him to either get a tutor, or get ready to scrape the gum off of tables in a restaurant.” Webby had said.

In the end, Webby had begged for Violet to tutor him, and Violet had begrudgingly accepted. After all, she was getting paid, and who didn’t like to have some extra cash by their side? And he wouldn’t be too hopeless. Huey was smart… right?

Nope. She was currently watching the teenage boy stuff about 6 pencils into his left nostril.

“Listen,” she groaned, frustrated. “I don’t want to do this just as much as you don’t. There are about 700 different things I’d rather be doing, none of which include watching you stuff a half dozen pencils into your nose.” she said, her voice dry and monotoned as ever.

“Then what are you gonna do about it, Sabrewing? Leave?” he asked with a mean laugh. “That doesn’t really affect me, sweetheart.” he smirked, and Violet hated that his sly smile was enough to make her heart race.

“Cute, but no,” Violet said pointedly. “I’ll tell Webby about this, and I know she’s just about ready to kick your ass at this point, Duck. So unless you want your more than just your pride hurt, I suggest you start giving a shit about school… sweetheart.” she said icily.

Huey stared at her, his mind coming up with no retorts or remarks to shoot back at her. In the loosest definition possible, Violet did have a point. Webby was just about ready to kick his ass into space, and the last thing he needed was a bruised tailbone, and Gosalyn asking about it.

He’ll admit, his and Gosalyn’s relationship didn’t mean much: it was just one of those high school flings. They would go to parties together, he would get black out drunk, and he and Gosalyn would have meaningless one night stands. Then he’d wake up with a pounding headache the next morning, and he’d try to get through the day. Unfortunately, most of that day was spent in school, hence the slacking off.

“Fine,” Huey managed. “Let’s get some work done.”

As Violet explained various things to him, Huey let his eyes wander to her face: Violet was pretty. And not Gosalyn pretty; Gosalyn layered her face with makeup every morning, but Violet seemed… well natural, she wore no makeup, wore no skimpy clothing to make her femine curves stand out, she was just… Violet. And that made her seem more attractive: she had dark skin, something Huey felt drawn to, and dark, curly hair, giving her a mysterious vibe right off the bat. Ever since high school began, she had begun wearing her long hair down, and her face was framed by two bangs. Her current outfit usually consisted of a light aqua Duckburg High hoodie, with black jeans, but she usually changed it up—

“Hubert?” she called, snapping her fingers in front of him.

“Hmm?” he asked.

“Can you repeat what I said?” she asked, frowning.

“Uhh. err… we were on the p-pythagorean theorem, right?” he stammered, flustered that he had gotten so distracted by her face.

She groaned. “We’re on English… let’s go over this again.”

ooo

Weeks passed, and slowly, Violet was starting to make some progress with him. They weren’t friendly, they’d often exchange snide remarks and retorts towards one another, but the air around them was becoming more comfortable, and Violet got over his cocky, arrogant side. Huey on the other hand, found himself wanting to know the type of person she was more and more. She was pretty mysterious, and he only knew one or two facts about her.

He caught her looking at him.

“See something you like, princess?” Huey asked, giving her a shit eating grin. Every time he called her an annoying pet name, it barely fazed her, and Huey was more than determined to find out what pet name she disliked most.

Violet glared at him. “Nothing, Hubert.” she said dryly.

He groaned. “Would you please stop calling me that?”

“What?” she asked incredulously. “You mean your name?”

“My full name,” he corrected, rolling his eyes. “It’s Huey. everyone calls me Huey… expect for you.”

“Well, I personally find it distasteful to shorten down someone’s given name,” Violet sighed. “And if it irks you, then that’s a point for me,” she smirked. “Now let’s go over this concept one more time.”

“Whatever you say… Vi.” he grinned.

Violet whipped around, giving him the mother of all death glares, but Huey was unfazed. He smirked, propping his head up with his hand, as if baiting her into saying something, and Volet faltered: if she showed how much she hated the nickname, then he would just get a little kick out of it. He wanted to annoy her.

She swallowed thickly. “So, when x is equal to negative 1, what is your y value?” she bit out.

He quickly did the math in his head, and smirked. “It would be negative 3, Vi.”

Violet’s left eye twitched, and Huey resisted the urge to grin.

“T-that’s right,” she bit out through gritted teeth. “Let’s move onto the next problem.”

“Sure, Vi.” he nodded.

She suddenly stood up, grabbing him by the collar, shaking him violently.

“SHUT UP!” she roared.

“I can’t even handle how beautiful you are when you’re angry, Sabrewing.” he smirked, making her falter, and loosen her grip on his collar, any form of anger gone.

“W-what?” she asked shyly, now tucking her hair behind her ear.

“I said that I can’t even handle how beautiful you are when you’re angry, Violet.” he said, looking her in the eye, his dark eyes washing over her like a blanket.

Her guard was up. “If this is a ploy to get out of tutoring, I—”

Huey chuckled. “It’s not. I genuinely think that you’re one of the most beautiful people to exist.”

Her cheeks burned. “S-so what does this make us?”

“Friends with benefits?” Huey asked hopefully.

“Hubert!” she laughed, smacking his arm. “I’m serious. If Gosalyn finds out about this—”

He smiled warmly, cupping her cheek. “I broke up with Gosalyn weeks ago.”

“Why?”

“Maybe I knew that this would happen,” he chuckled. “Being around you makes me feel like the old me, Vi.”

She blushed harder. “I suggest you cool it with that nickname, Duck.”

“Oh yeah, what are you going to do about i—” he was cut off when she pressed her lips firmly against his own, making him blush.

When she pulled away, he was a flustered mess.

“I can do that.” she said coyly.

“That, I can get used to.” he smiled, pulling her closer to him. He cupped her cheek, and gently kissed her, and Violet felt as if she were in heaven.

And for the first time in a long time, Hubert Duck felt good again.

ooo

Cheesy, I know, but we need more Bad Boy Huey stories out there :) here’s Day 1 of Huelet Week 2020, @hueletweek2020

#ducktales #ducktales fanfiction #ducktales au #huey duck #violet sabrewing #huey x violet #huelet #huelet week 2020

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lesserfandomappreciation · 4 years

Text

Hello hello! Thank you that’s really kind of you!!! I love your writing (congrats on Chap 9, it was awesome)!

Personally I am terrible at flirting or even understanding how it works, so I did my best with this. Hope it comes across as good!

This wound up longer than expected, whoops! Flirting with Self-conscious s/o ( Red Shoes and the 7 Dwarfs )

Arthur

Charm out the wazoo. Arthur’s boisterous personality combined with his a princely upbringing and deeply instilled ideas on what a knight should be have created an inherent need to be charming when he’s interested in someone. It can range from surprisingly smooth to over-the-top. He’s pretty good at coming up with them on the go too, responding to what may be an innocuous question with a decent line.

His lines come in three main forms.

Traditional knight/ye olde romantic keeping ideas of courtly wooing.

“May I join you, milady/milord?”

“Should you feel fear let me know. It’s a warrior’s duty to protect that which he treasures.”

Painfully, genuinely sweet lines that work only because he’s showing his real self and is not being over-the-top.

“Could I... hold your hand?”

Boasting: AKA showing off his muscles and hyping himself up (desperate moves he thankfully only rarely uses now thanks to his experience with Snow White)

The issue with all of these is that they come across as a bit fake or showy, as this type of flirting really isn’t for everyone. So a line missing when flirting with his self-conscious s/o is something he sort of expected. He doesn’t think it’s because they’re self-conscious, Arthur just thinks he messed up.

The way the self-consciousness manifests itself is going to change the way he reacts. For example, if they withdraw a lot, he’s going to think he really goofed it and is going to apologize, asking for clarification on what he did wrong so that he doesn’t do it again. That’s a very different reaction than if s/o were to bluntly tell him they didn’t believe him, leaving him dumbfounded.

The first reaction aside, Arthur would want to let them know he genuinely meant it, but his own lack of experience would really get in the way of that. How does he go about this? Him being him though, he would confront them directly about it and in that moment let his inner sweetheart shine as he makes it clear that he meant what he said.

If they want to explain why they feel that way about themselves, great he’ll listen, but even if they don’t he asks them to not speak about themselves that way. They’re too wonderful to be hateful towards themselves.

After that the prince makes it a point to compliment them every single day. It’s not even always flirting, it’s straight up compliments. Their smarts, their passions, their looks, their hands, their eyes - everything is free game, and he’s not going to stop giving sincere compliments until they get it through their heads he likes them for them for a reason, and they should too.

Pino

Stating facts about them counts as flirting, right? Cards on the table I don’t think Pino is really capable of flirting well, at least not on purpose. Yes, he’s mature and the eldest but that doesn’t necessarily equip him for the terrifying world that is interpersonal relationships outside of family. To even try to flirt takes a massive amount of pondering before he lets out a single word

His flirting, thus, is not so much flirting as it is:

A) stating things he likes about them/ Sort of.

“You are very smart. And strong. Strong and smart. Smrong.”

“You are a good size.”

B) complimenting them about something they did.

“Good job.”

“’You did good with that.”

C) Giving up and just staring silently trying to think of something to say. Anything. Come on brain you helped build a selfie machine surely stringing words together isn’t that hard.

That one video of Lin-Manuel Miranda chanting “Come on brain, think of things.”

D) Any of the above, only his brothers are there to be the world’s best worst okayest wingmen.

The thing is, is that with this style of flirting barely comes across as flirting. S/o or not, it is going to be very difficult for anyone to pick up on any of this as intentional romantic interest rather than Pino being... Pino. Most people would maybe register this as awkward platonic compliments, if even that. His insecure s/o’s self-consciousness may not kick in for a while until they figure out that this is Pino desperately trying to show intentions.

Someone give this man cue cards he’s hurting.

Actually no don’t do that his brothers might get ideas.

Despite this terrible inability to communicate romantic feelings, Pino does have one thing going for him. A stupid amount of emotional knowledge courtesy of keeping an eye on his brothers. Pino’s not dumb. When it comes to the people he really cares about he can get a good read on them. His s/o is no different.

Upon realizing that s/o, the same s/o he has been pining after for weeks of awkward semi-flirting, has self-conscious issues, Pino is baffled. Bamboozled. Confusioned. Setting his own feelings to the side, the eldest brother works up the nerve to tell them full throttle that they are awesome. He doesn’t know what they have been through, nor where the feelings come from, but he will not let this stand. He is a little curt and blunt, but the intent is there.

If his s/o says 1 tiny negative thing about themselves, he’s armed with something they cannot deny. Facts. Pino has been debating his brothers for years, he will make charts if he has to.

Noki

Constant non-stopping stream of compliments. Noki is what happens when a fidget spinner is outfitted with an energy-drink powered engine. Pino, Hans and Jack can only somewhat keep him from vibrating into another dimension, and that’s with their powers combined. When he has someone in his sights, that energy is re-focused on making his s/o feel like royalty.

Flirting is, if nothing else, absolutely amazing to witness in just how it is:

One constant stream of consciousness that results in compliment after compliment.

“That’s amazing, you’re amazing, that hat really suits you-”

“Your hair looks really nice today, though it usually looks nice every day-”

Painfully, unapologetically, sincerely sweet, gen-u-ine statements that could give anyone a bad case of sugar rush.

“Why wouldn’t I want to be here? I really like spending time with you, you’re a really fun person.”

“When you smile your noise gets all crinkly and it’s super cute, you’re like a kitten!”

Cheesy, horrible one-liners that were bad in high school then and are bad in current times now.

“Do you have a map? I keep getting lost in your eyes.”

^^^^ That’s as much as I’m writing on that, this stuff is painful.

The painful part in all of this is that Noki, being Noki, is going to have no flippin’ clue that his s/o is feeling about this until he starts paying very close attention to their reactions. Are they turning away from him because they are hiding a blush, or because they are hiding tears? Are they blushing and incoherent because he’s just that good, or because they have no idea how to respond, this is a new experience to them, someone please show them mercy and send help.

“Wait, you don’t believe me??? Why?!” Noki is not going to hide his bewilderment at all. This whole time he’s been flirting with them and they thought he was kidding??? He thought he was bad at this, not that they were going through some insecurities he may be encountering for the first time. He is going to sit down next to them, and s/o has about two seconds to decide whether or not they’re going to talk about it, because otherwise he is.

“You are amazing though! Everyone knows it! Snow White, Merlin, Sword-head, Hans, Jack, my brothers- we all know it! Do you think I could invent something that can possibly help this? You should have to go through life thinking badly of yourself when the world is a brighter place because of you! I-”

TBH I do not have room for the whole rant here, but essentially this would likely wind up with him confessing because this is painfully obvious.

By the end of this, he plans to make them blushy every single day until they see the them he sees, and beyond that too!

Kio

Shy sweetness that will punch you in the stomach when you least expect it. Oh you thought because he’s shyer and quieter than his brothers (and the entirety of the F7) that he isn’t capable of delivering some one-hit KOs using nothing but his words? You thought?! Pino is awkward but mature, Noki is a ball of constant validation, but Kio will use his reputation for shyness as an excuse to flirt out of the blue and then move on like nothing happened.

Personal touch may be awkward for him but verbally making his s/o a goober just like him is his secret to being confident with his words. His s/o is in for it.

Kio is a sneaky bastard who has the least range of flirtation (only 2 types really) but boy oh boy are they wildly different.

The supreme sweetness that Noki (most of the boys if we’re being honest) take notes on when they want to be sweet to their loved ones.

“That’s a new bracelet isn’t it? It’s really suits you, you make it look good.”

“All your expressions are lovely but when you smile, the whole world seems brighter.”

The, ah, spicy stuff that none of the F7 besides Pino know that he is capable of uttering. Pino has no proof and is going crazy trying to prove to the group that the youngest brother can be downright heated with his flirting.

“I could see you anywhere and be happy. Outside. Inside. In a house. In the bed. Especially the last one.”

“Your eyes are not the only part of you I could get lost in.”

Kio does not have the problem of not being clear in flirting. He’s not subtle. At all. As you’ve seen in some of the examples. The problem is that it can be a lot for a person to process, especially one that has self-consciousness issues. It really is out of the blue, which can throw the other person off when they’re not expecting it. Which is always.

Thankfully, he is the happy middle between Noki and Pino’s ability to sense that something is wrong. It does take him a bit to pick up on it, but eventually he puts two and two together to realize s/o really is reacting oddly. Not in that they’re shy, but that there’s an underlying issue. It does take him a while to talk about it though because he has no clue how to approach it. It’s not a subject he’s good at tackling.

The thought his s/o is going through this solo though does get him to gently pull them aside and ask them about it. He wants to know if it’s him overstepping into a very uncomfortable territory, if it’s specific things that trigger a certain response or if it’s something else entirely. Kio is a good listener, and mentally remembers a lot of notes for the next time he wants to compliment them.

Very much makes it a point to let them know that hey, he likes them for them, and that yes, he is going to continue to give specific compliments their way because he adores them and they are worth it.

#Red Shoes and the 7 Dwarfs #rsat7d #imagine

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theroguesully · 4 years

Text

Iida x OC

Song: Girl All The Bad Guys Want by Bowling for Soup This is my first time writing in a very long time so I hope you like it.

8 o'clock, Monday night, and I'm waitin' To finally talk to a girl a little cooler than me.

"I don't even know why I agreed to this. It's a weeknight!" Tenya Iida, hero name Ingenium, exclaimed to Izuku Midoriya and Shoto Todoroki. It had already been a long week, and the loud bar was one of the last places Iida wanted to be.

Todoroki looked at him out of the corner of his eye, stating simply: "I guess because Uraraka said she was dragging Yamada-Chan out tonight," before taking a sip of his drink. He fought the smirk that threatened to break out as he watched his friend start to sputter, turning red.

"I haven't any idea what you're talking about!"

His mind wandered to the short, curvy hero with the short, purple hair. Maybe it was true that the American had, in fact, caught his eye when she moved to Japan to live with her uncle, Hizashi Yamada, and joined their class. Maybe what started as a fascination for an interesting quirk and a unique sense of style turned into much more over the last few years getting to know her. Under the ever-changing hair colors, the combat boots, the pointed ears, studded with small piercings, and mostly dark-colored wardrobe laid an incredibly sweet, wildly smart individual, whose academic prowess ended-up rivaling his own. Perhaps her fiery and passionate streak, which insured people knew she wasn't one to be walked all over, drew him in. It's even possible that, in his eyes, the parts of her which should be his polar opposites, actually seemed to compliment his personality. Sure, these are things he thought. Thought, but never once spoken out loud.

With a sigh, he turned to see both Todoroki and Midoriya watching him, doubt ringing clear on their faces.

And when she walks, All the wind blows and the angels sing. But she doesn't notice me!

"How long have you known?"

Rubbing his chin in thought, Midoriya replied with: "I suppose I noticed it two years ago."

Todoroki cocked one eyebrow at this and asked: "Was it not our second year at UA? I know I wasn't as versed in these things as most, but I was pretty sure..."

"Second year?! There's no way I missed this for three whole years! Nope. I would've noticed," Midoriya argued.

"There were signs."

"Like?"

Todoroki sighed, took another sip, and stated: "Iida is normally straight-forward, matter-of-fact, and un-wavering. Around Yamada-chan, he turns into a blushing, babbling mess. Besides, he stares. I've never seen him stare before-"

"I do not stare" Iida cut him off, hastily, hands chopping through the air.

"You stare. I guess the biggest sign, however, was your reaction to Yamada-Chan dating Shinso."

Midoriya gaped at the man, "Five years? Five years, and you haven't said anything, Iida? Why?"

"Because, Midoriya, while she may be perfect to me, I understand that women like her don't date men like me. She deserves someone who can keep up with her, someone more carefree, less rigid."

Both men watched him sadly, surprised by his outburst, by his feelings for her and of himself. Midoriya opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted.

"Izu-Kun!" Ochaco Uraraka exclaimed excitedly, seeing her boyfriend and friends, and began hurrying over, arm linked with a shorter woman. Kenzie Yamada, also known as Pro Hero: Shockwave. Iida took this time to look at the differences between the two friends; while Uraraka was the type of person many would assume Iida would fall for, with her tidy brown bob, pink flowy shirt, jeans, and heels, which seemed to match her overly friendly, excitable, and bubbly personality, Iida's eyes couldn't help but fall on Yamada. Her outfit consisted of a purple cropped top under a black fishnet top, ripped jeans, and worn-in black combat boots, topped by a black moto jacket.

It's like a bad movie She is lookin' through me

Iida missed the slight blush on Yamada's cheeks as they arrived at the table. Todoroki slid over, making room between himself and Iida for her to sit as Uraraka bounced over to Midoriya and kissed him on the cheek before taking a seat next to him.

"So, how's that going, anyways?" Yamada asked, gesturing to Midoriya and Uraraka. They both blushed slightly, and the brunette giggled, "Really well, actually! We-" Iida had already stopped listening, focusing instead on the woman beside him who was listening intently, with a warm smile, to their friends excitedly talking about their latest date. 'She's always so happy when anything good happens to the people important to her,' Iida thought, warmly, 'It's one of the many things I lo-.' His thoughts were interrupted by a light poke to his ribs, coupled with a slight vibrating feeling he recognized as part of her quirk.

"So, Iida-Kun, anything going on in your love life? Or are you just as alone as Todoroki-Kun and I?" She asked, with a wink and a giggle. 'Why does her giggle have to be so cute? Focus, Tenya! She asked a question.'

"N-no," he stammered, adjusting his glasses, "I mean, I've had offers, but no."

"Tch, and why not?" She admonished the man, "You could probably have your pick of anyone. You're a real catch, y'know."

'Not anyone, though,' the little voice in the back of his mind rang.

"If only you took your own words to heart, Yama-Chan," Uraraka called to her friend in a singsong tone. "It isn't like I don't know Kirishima has been trying to set you up. You could always take him up on it since you refuse to do anything about the situation you mentioned."

Midoriya spoke up, "What situation?"

"It's nothing, don't worry about it," Yamada quickly said, shutting down that part of the situation. "Besides, Bakugo only mentioned that dating me 'wouldn't be the worst thing,' and Eji jumped on it and has been trying to set me up with him ever since. He's looking too much into it, is all."

"For Bakugo, it's basically a love confession," Todoroki deadpanned. She snorted a laugh before taking a sip of her drink.

Iida had a calm, unbothered facade, but his brain was going into overdrive.

'Of course Bakugo is interested.'

'Why wouldn't he be? She can keep up with his aggressive personality.'

'She probably does like him. He's 'cool,' he has a 'bad-boy' persona.'

'He'd probably be able to keep things interesting.'

As I fail miserably, Tryin' to get the girl all the bad guys want.

A few drinks and a couple hours later, Iida decided it was time to get back home. Yamada stayed close to Iida's side as they tidied up their table and settled their tabs. "I'm really glad you came out with us tonight, Iida-Kun. It seems like it's been so long since we've been able to hang out."

He looked down at the purple-haired woman with a fond smile, "You're right, I'm sorry it's been so long. I've been keeping up with your expl- I mean, everyone's exploits," Iida felt his face heating up.

She bounced a bit, excited, "Oh! I've been keeping up with yours, too! You truly are a wonderful hero, Ingenium," she chuckled. When it was time for the five of them to split ways, Yamada gave Iida a tight hug. "Promise we'll hang out again soon? Also, would it kill you to call or text more often?" She asked with a laugh.

The man chuckled, taking in her warmth, her scent, and just how she felt in his arms.

"I promise."

Walking away, he knew these feelings would never go. For a split second, he considered just confessing to her, but he knew she would never return his feelings.

'Cause she's the girl all the bad guys want

Bonus:

Walking back home with Uraraka, Yamada was deep in thought, a slight, bittersweet smile on her face. Looking at her friend, Uraraka asked the question that had been on her mind for a while now, "So...are you ever going to tell Iida?"

"Maybe..."

#tenya iida #tenya iida x oc #bnha #mha #deku x uraraka #midoriya #iida #izuku mydoria #shoto torodoki #songfic #todoroki #ochako uraraka #short fic

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chilly-me-softly · 4 years

Note

part 3 for the break up and secrets where jack owns up his mistake to you. Him willing to quit football for you and you realize the big step of that so you went back with him to london. He thinks that your company agrees to let you move back to london when in fact you quit your job so jack won't quit football. He found out about it and felt that you sacrifice a lot for him that he plans on to propose to you.

Part 1 - Part 2

Jack worries about you.

He's not waiting for you to call him at bedtime, he's anticipating you to ask how you're doing. He doesn't like that you're already back at work, that you've practically resumed your life before the accident as if nothing had happened, that you're planning your trip to bring Dylan to see him. The arm was the part that bothered you the most with the bruise, and every time you held the baby in your arms, Jack would end up telling him off because he was involuntarily clinging to you or hitting the head on that very spot.

He could have come to you for some time, but you wouldn't let him skip games, important games by the way. He's the captain and you're fine, but he doesn't seem to wanna get it into his head.

When you bring him Dylan, he lets you in to chat. Actually, he also asked you not to bring your things to your mother's house like you always did, but to settle down with him, which you refused because you really needed a few days alone, away from everyone, to try and clear your head.

Is this just a phase? Did the accident really open his eyes as he says or will it all go away and you're just kidding yourself? Can you go back with him? Who says he won't get tired of you again? Is this just about Dylan?

Some were meaningless questions, some already had answers, but you didn't want to believe them. You didn't doubt your feelings, you just didn't want to jump headlong into something with him because now you didn't just have to take care of yourself, you had to take care of a child. As much as it would have been good for the baby to stop being treated like a package, were you and Jack really willing to put the hidden pregnancy and everything that came of it behind you?

That Saturday would have been Dylan's first birthday, Jack would have had a game that day and asked if you could go. It had been a long time since you'd set foot in the stadium and especially since you weren't cheering for Jack so openly, but you finally agreed. You missed it, and Dylan would have loved it.

Jack had got him a team jersey identical to his own, but smaller, and when you put it on that morning, you immediately took a picture and sent it to him.

'Will Mommy wear hers, too?' he texts you then, a little winky emojy at the end of the sentence. But you had sent him another picture with your outfit, which didn't include the shirt, and he shook his head on the other side of the phone and sent you some crying faces.

Dylan looks around from the moment you set foot in that building, who knows how big the place must look to him while he's wiggling in your arms to get down but you won't let him because there's too many people around and you don't want to risk losing him or anything else. You head to your seats with ease, Jack made sure you had everything you needed to get through without too much trouble and that you had the best view where neither you nor your child could have been in danger.

Jack goes out onto the field with the team to warm up and his gaze flies straight to where your seats are, finding them occupied by you of course.And he smiles when he sees you're playing with the baby, entertaining him and of course he can't see or hear you from so far away but it's like he can hear his baby laughing.

He tries as hard as maybe he has never done in his life knowing that there are special visitors that day, an important occasion and a great victory are the best thing to start celebrating. And finally you can let the baby go when the game is over and come down to congratulate Jack, the little one runs happily to his daddy who just as happily takes him in his arms filling him with kisses. A little embarrassment to be there suddenly but nothing you can't hide watching the two Grealish playing together on the field.

And then that night you threw a little party with your families and some friends, a little cake for Dylan who had fun rubbing it on his face. A lot of pictures to add to that album, and this time you made sure you took a lot of pictures for Jack.

You and he couldn't take your eyes off each other, even though you were in different parts of the room, your looks somehow kept crossing each other; shy smiles and light touches as you passed each other.

At the end of the evening you are exhausted, closing the door when the last person leaves and when you turn around, Jack is in front of you. "Jack, my God, you scared me" you take your hand over your heart that beats wildly as he grinds and looks at you before leaving a kiss on your cheek and taking your hand carrying you into the living room.

You sit happily, a glance inevitably falls on the baby monitor where you can see the baby is sleeping peacefully.

"I don't like to go bother him while he's sleeping" you think out loud, it's late and you should really go too, you've bothered Jack enough for the day. But Dylan sleeps so well and you'd hate for him to wake up on the way.

"Stay" he simply says playing with your fingers and looking at you, "you don't think I'm going to clean up all this mess by myself" he adds perhaps to lighten the situation.

"Please, as if you won't call someone to clean up for you" you tease him and he giggles, raising his hands caught in the act.

"Today was really nice, I'd like to spend more of it that way. You know with you and with him"

You sigh, the gaze constantly on your hands as you feel his gaze on you.

"(Y/N)" he calls you back and his nose touches your cheek, you know what will happen if you raise your head to look at him.

He's leaving you a choice and you eventually raise that head, you meet his gaze for a few seconds before your lips touch again.

The next day he somehow convinces you to stay there a little longer, staying and playing with Dylan and all the new stuff he got for his birthday and tidying up both the house and inside your head. For once you enjoy your life as it would be if you were together, not thinking about anything but living only the present, and that's something you both enjoy.

You leave Jack that day only when you have to pack your bags, you have the flight back to Germany the next morning, you go back to normal. That weekend was nice, a break from reality, now you have to see how things will go.

For the following months you continue as you have always done, video calls and trips every two weeks, with the only difference that now Jack hosts you too and you take those days to build a quiet space to live without any worries.

"I'm serious (Y/N), I'd be willing to transfer to get closer to you and if no one wanted me, well even to quit football" Jack had taken you by surprise that very night, where in theory you should already be resting because it's time to go back again, but in practice you're still awake talking.

"Do you realize what you're saying? Giving up your dream for us?"

"To be able to see my family whenever I want, to be able to hold you as I am now, you are my dream (Y/N). You both are the most important thing I have"

"Don't make hasty decisions, Jack"

And although you recommended him not to make any rash decisions, you didn't follow your own advice. The fact that Jack was willing to give up his dream for his family gave you a lot to think about, would you have been willing to do the same?

Well, the answer is yes, because you did.

"I'm going back to London" you announce to Jack via the usual video call, and for a moment you think the image on the screen is frozen. He's just standing there, not even blinking.

"Jack?" he shakes his head a little bit to recover and then a smile is painted on his face.

"What? When? How? Are you sure? You need a hand? Do you want me to come?" you stop him laughing, adjusting the pillow behind your back and shaking your head.

"When I came here I said I didn't have anyone important there to hold me, well I do now and I think it's the right thing to do" Jack smiles softly with half a cheek pushed on the pillow.

"Do they let you come back easy?" you bite your lower lip before shrug.

"I haven't even been here for a year, but as much as I like it, I never felt at home"

So time to fix everything and you're back in London, this time to stay. Jack's over the moon, he's cleared out half his stuff all over the place so you can settle in properly because it was obvious you wouldn't be looking for another house. Dylan's room was already ready for obvious reasons and with all his things now it looked like a proper room.

Jack had never been happier than that, and you were letting yourself go for once. Thinking too much would only lead to ruining something that you knew could be fine.

"Hey honey, how long till they expect you at work?" you knew sooner or later he'd ask you and you'd sigh.

"They don't"

He straightens up on the couch, looking at you surprised and confused at the same time. "What do you mean they're not expecting you?"

You sigh again as you turn to him and let Dylan play alone, "I quit my job to come back here. Did you really think they wouldn't have a problem with me going back and forth and just bringing problems with my demands and my whims?"

He shakes his head, "I'm sorry, you could have told me that before"

"Jack, it's okay, really. And then I needed to come back here, back to you, and my dream was always more expendable than yours. I only took that promotion to get more money after all" you shrug as he slips off the couch to come and sit next to you.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm happy"

Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6

#thank you anon #jack grealish #jack grealish blurb

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twoidiotwriters1 · 4 years

Text

Starcrossed Losers IX (Josh Wheeler xReader)

A/N: Friendship is cool but it gets you in a lot of trouble. Also, Happy Christmas’ Eve!!!

Words: 4,339

Warnings: Blood, cursing and weird outfits

Previous chapter // Next chapter

“Y/N, can I ask you a question without making you mad?”

“I don’t know Josh, you’ll have to ask me the question first”

“Why are you still wearing that?”

I look down at my clothes and laugh.

“I forgot,” I look at my reflection on the closest glass and examine the torn shirt that covers my body.

“So it wasn’t a fashion statement?” Asks Josh with a smirk.

“Sadly no,” I stand up and stretch my arms, yawning, “I think it’s time I get a new outfit.”

“You’re finally changing your resident evil cosplay?” Wesley walks by me, eyeing me up, Josh laughs.

“Don’t be mean,” I stick out my tongue, “I’d rock a resident evil cosplay”

“I don’t doubt it,” He raises his hands, “go nuts”

Wesley points towards the stores and I happily comply.

“You want us to go with you?” Josh raises his voice, following me with his eyes.

“I’ll be fine, you guys stay”

As I’m walking away I hear Wesley talking to Josh.

“We should practice our sword skills”

“Dude, yes!” Josh answers.

I chuckle lowly and head straight into my favorite store.

It’s been a while since I got new clothes for myself; being alone is okay I guess, but it’s nice to be able to calmly pick an outfit without worrying about being attacked.

I also get to pick something that will match my skates no matter what. You know when you have a specific favorite outfit that you wanna wear all the time but is not socially acceptable to do so cause then people will think you don’t shower? Well, now those rules don’t apply anymore cause everyone wears the same clothes all the time and it’s a known fact that we don’t shower.

With that in mind, I pick the stuff that makes me the happiest and put them on. When I look in the mirror I feel amazing, and I take it as a sign that I have finally found my outfit.

“Y/N, we prepared a whole obstacle course, come see it!”

“You wanna see my new outfit?” I ask excitedly from the changing rooms.

“Sure!” Josh replies, walking in, “Where are you?”

“Turn around and I’ll come out!” I drag the curtain and walk out towards him, I’m pleased to see he followed my instructions and is facing the entrance, “You can look now!”

He turns around and I show my outfit with my arms extended.

“So?”

“That’s a... are those short overalls?” He examines them carefully.

“Yes!” I smile wildly, “and a lime-green shirt. With fun socks,” I raise my eyebrows, “get it? so I can match the skates you gave me”

“That’s, uh...”

“You don’t like it,” I lowered my arms, frowning, “Why?”

“It’s not that!” He quickly counters, “it’s just... well, your arms and legs are exposed and we live surrounded by things that bite.”

“Yes, but I have a hammer,” I say sternly.

Josh stares at me.

“A hammer won’t protect you from a horde.”

“Fair,” I agree, “but it’s not just my hammer. I have two samurais on my side, right? Either way, Ghoulie bites aren’t that dangerous.”

“They are if they rip your arms off”

“You’re exaggerating. I’ll be fine,” I walk past him, “you gonna train with Wesley or no?”

“Yeah but-”

“Hey, are you guys coming or what?” Wesley screams from the main hall.

“Going!” I scream back.

I found a bunch of tables with a small piñata, a watermelon and god knows what else spread around the place in order to make training harder. Wesley lets out an exclamation of approval when he sees me.

“Now, that’s a hundred percent Y/N-brand. You look good, girl!”

“Thanks! I feel good,” I smile at him, then look over at Josh, “See? Wesley gets it”

“I never said I didn’t like it...” He grumbles.

“We can talk about our fashion sense later. First, we train,” Demands our friend.

“Who’s first?” I ask, leaning against a column far from the obstacle course.

“Let me show you how real warriors do it...”

Josh and I look at each other wondering what will Wesley do to try to impress us. When he kneels on the floor and bows to his sword, we have to look away so we don’t start laughing.

But don’t worry, our laughter dies as soon as he does the wildest moves ever, totally not humiliating us in every possible way.

When he fixes his posture and takes off his mask, he vaguely points towards the mess and then to Josh.

“So, clean this shit up and, uh, your turn,” He smiles.

“What?” Josh asks in pure outraged. I laugh and he looks at me with a bitter smile, “oh, don’t get so amused. You’re helping me.”

“What?” Now is my time to be scandalized, “Why?”

He shows me his injured hand and smirks.

“Cause I'm a disabled person in recovery.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s not how this works,” I frown, “but I’ll help you anyway, cause I don’t want you to cut another of your little fingers by accident”

“How nice of you,” He mocks.

It takes us about ten minutes to replace and arrange everything. When we’re done I sit next Wesley, arms crossed and a knowing smile on my face.

“Just do your best, Wheeler. Try not to fall over innocent people, please.”

“Very funny, L/N,” Josh sneers.

When it’s his turn to train, Josh does... his best. I managed to remain silent for most of it until he hits the mannequin and the only thing he cuts it’s the finger.

“Oh my god,” I cover my mouth and stifle most of my laughter. Wesley stands up and looks at the result.

“Wow, that is... ironic.”

“It’s...” I say between laughs, “it’s so sad...”

“Dude, I’m a terrible swordsman. Especially with only one good hand,” Josh replies.

“You are in good company,” Wesley retorts in an attempt to calm him down, “Skywalker, Furiosa... Jaime Lannister, if you can get past the child-killing, incest, rape.”

“Meh,” I squint my eyes, “I think you should stick to Skywalker.”

Wesley shakes his head and mouths something that looks like ‘not now’, so I stay silent as he continues his speech.

“Hands gives us identity. Chefs cut, artist paint, warriors... warrior.”

That’s definitely not how you call it, but uh, that’s not the point, right?

“All good Jedi lose a hand.”

“I couldn’t even get that right!” Josh replies with annoyance, holding his hand up.

He leans against the column and falls slowly to the ground, it’s quite a miserable sight. I stand up and walk over to sit next Josh, I pat his back softly as a way of comfort.

“You know what I love about right now?” Asks Wesley, “we are free. We can do anything!”

Josh looks at me and I know he’s thinking about the story I told him yesterday.

“I couldn’t pull off those pants,” He offers, discretely changing the subject, “you and Y/N could wear anything and still look good. I can’t, so I’m not that free.”

Wesley looks down at his clothes.

“No. No, you cannot. But is not about having cool shit, it’s about being cool as shit,” He slowly makes his way to us, “you define yourself. Who are you?”

This is getting real way too fast.

Who am I? Besides the weirdo with a fixation for the lime-green. I told you this before, there’s a reason why I never joined any tribe. I clearly don’t have a thing. If I don’t have a thing, then why am I still here? What am I supposed to be doing?

“I’m oni samurai, when I get done with my quest and find redemption, they will write songs about me.”

“Who?” I ask, bewildered, “the fairies in your head?”

Josh stands up suddenly, getting face to face with Wesley.

“Look, I couldn’t save Sam’s life. I have to avenge her death,” I stand up as well, hearing attentively, “those scratches on her body were made with a butcher’s knife. I’ve only seen one douche with a weapon like that.”

And before he says it, I already know what he’s planning to do.

“I’m gonna kill Baron Triumph,” He leans over and speaks on Wesley’s ear, “I’m gonna kill Jayden Hoyles.”

Oh, poor stupid, love-sick Josh.

I know, judging by Wesley’s face, that this took an unexpected turn for him. For me? Well, I can’t say I knew exactly what Josh had in mind, but I figured he wouldn’t just stay here and cry for the rest of his life. He’s got hero-complex. Which, unfortunately, is gonna get him killed.

But it’s good to know that I’m not the only one looking for redemption now, whatever it was Wesley did and Josh’s burden are now on the line. Maybe that could be our thing? The tribe of regrets. The redemption circle. The I-can’t-stop-fucking-things-up club. No? Meh, I’ll find the right name eventually.

I follow Josh towards one of the stores. He’s in a bad mood.

“Josh-”

“Don’t try to talk me out of it,” He interrupts me, “I need to do this.”

“I wasn’t going to stop you,” I reply.

“You weren’t?” He stops, turning completely this time, “Why?”

“You want me to stop you?” I raise a brow, “Cause I can do that too if you want.”

“No, I mean... I don’t know, I thought you’d be upset about this. See it as a way of holding on to something that won’t bring anything good.”

“I do think that you’re closer to get killed with this plan and I do believe that killing Hoyles won’t make you feel better. The difference is that I don’t follow any samurai rules, so I don’t think it’ll bring you bad karma or whatever. It’s your life, you decide.”

“Okay,” He has an odd expression. I can’t tell if he’s suspicious or curious, either way, it makes me feel nervous, “then you could help me?”

“To kill him?” I tense, “What, just because I killed once it means I can do it again?”

“No,” He rolls his eyes, “I’ve killed Ghoulies too, and I don’t judge you for what happened with your sister. You did what you had to do.”

“So..?”

“I was going to ask if you could help me find a new weapon... or hand”

“What?” I giggle, then I see him ready to get all defensive and I stop, “Sorry, what do you have in mind?”

And he pulls a list out of his pocket, like the dork he is.

“I have a few ideas...”

“We can try them,” I nod, “I’ll put on my skates so I can help you get the stuff faster.”

“Sure, I’ll be here, analyzing my list,” He lowers his eyes towards the paper, excitedly reading all he wrote.

I snort, walking away.

“You’re too cute, Wheeler.”

Oh fuck. Oh fuck. I said that out loud, didn’t I?

Well, now I can’t turn around to see if he heard me, god I hope he didn’t. If he did that means he’ll start to get suspicious and I don’t wanna ruin another friendship. Besides, I don’t like Josh that way. I don’t.

We’re friends. I just gained a friend (several, actually), I won’t ruin it just cause I think he has pretty eyes. I told Angelica that I won’t be playing her games and I’m too stubborn to admit she may have a point. Also, am I forgetting that Sam just died? This isn’t exactly what I would call perfect timing.

Josh is focused on his work when I go back and I’m too nervous to talk to him, still thinking about how he might have heard my not so subtle compliment.

What is wrong with me? I never had this issue with Alex, he was easy. I mean, we also knew each other since we were six so I guess that’d have influenced the way I perceived my behavior around him.

“Y/N?”

“Huh, yes?” I jump, “sorry, what did you say?”

“You spaced out,” He says with a small smile, “you didn’t listen a thing did you?”

“No,” I give him an awkward smile, “I got lost in my own head. I’m here now though, tell me what you need.”

“What do you think?” He points to every item on the table, “You see something that fits my... uh, whatever Wesley said I should have?”

I slide closer, examining all the stuff.

“You understood what Wesley was saying?”

“Yes... no. I don’t know. I get that he’s trying to convince me that life can be better without revenge, I guess?”

“Don’t ask me, I don’t know what he was trying to say,” I mumble, “all I know is that I have no clue of who I am. The apocalypse kind of fucked up my identity.”

“Well, who were you before?” He steps closer, carefully grabbing the glove with blades and trying it on.

“The artsy girl, according to my friend Maya,” I reply, a bit self-conscious, “I wasn’t that good if I’m honest but you know, if my friends ever needed to draw something for their projects or if they were looking for some new not-so-famous band to listen to, they’d give me a call.”

“So you were the ‘not-like-the-other-girls’ girl?” He smirks.

“Ugh, that is misconceiving,” I scoff, “every girl is their own person, we’re all the same. Just like the guys, and humans in general. We just have different likings, I really liked all kinds of art before, that’s all”

“Okay,” He takes a minute to think about it, “you’re right, there’s no tribe for that.”

“And it’s not like I could use my drawings to defend myself,” I grin.

“Well, the disciples of the Kardashian aren’t exactly trained warriors.”

“Maybe,” I help him take off the glove, “but there’s more than one, they share one specific trait. The jocks protect them of course, they don’t need to know how to defend themselves, I do. I have no one.”

“You have me now,” He replies promptly, “Uh, I mean us. You have us. We can protect you and you can go back to being the artsy girl.”

“To be honest, going back to that would be dull,” I squint, “I know I said I wanted my old life but that’d only work in the old world. I can’t be who I was, so I have to find a way to be a new version of myself, meaning I’ll have to use my creative instincts in something else.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Josh answers, grabbing a knife and weighing it, “your thing and mine. We have time.”

“That, if you survive to Hoyles,” I say subtly, “cause if not then we don’t have time at all. Or... if you wait a bit longer before going after Triumph, maybe we’ll have it...”

“Ah, there it is,” Josh has a smug smile when he leans towards me, “that is how you’re trying to convince me about not doing this?”

“Is it working?” I get closer as well, grinning.

“Almost,” He sighs, “but not enough, I’m still going. The only thing that could stop me from going is if I don’t find something to help me with my bad hand, which seems more likely than not.”

“I tried my best,” My foot accidentally kicks a mannequin’s hand and something comes to my mind, “hey, we have one more item (not listed) that you can try on for your new look. Who knows? Maybe it’ll bring you good luck.”

“What is it?” He curiously looks around the table.

“Here,” I pick up the hand and show it to him.

“Y/N,” He gives me a stern look, “tell me you’re joking.”

“What? We don't have functional prosthetics laying around, that is the closest thing you can get,” I put a hand on my hip, “you know is your best choice. You’ll get used to it. Adapt and survive, man.”

“Fine,” He sighs, “but I’m not obligated to use it if I don’t like how it looks.”

“Sure,” I agree, “it’s your body.”

I sit next to the table while he goes to a changing room. I hear him break the hand and I hope he didn’t screw up the fingers. Not that we can’t get more if that’s the case, but you know, time is not something we have to spare.

Wesley enters and sees the bunch of weird things we’ve come up with.

“Okay,” He nods, “yeah, hell yeah! This is what I’m talking about, brother! You define yourself. Come out here and show me your new killer digits.”

Josh pulls the curtain and walks out from the changing room with the white, plastic finger tied to his hand. Wesley and I laugh.

“Nice figure, Kim Cattrall,” He notices neither Josh or I get the joke, and he continues, “because she was a mannequin.”

We stay quiet.

“In the movie mannequin?” I shake my head without saying a word, “about a mannequin who comes to life? They made a sequel with Kristy Swanson, the orig Buffy the vampire slayer...”

Josh walks out of the store, showing Wesley his middle finger.

“I can’t tell if that means he liked it,” I mention, standing up next to Wesley, “but I take that he won’t waste more time on this?”

“Okay,” Wesley sighs, “let’s go hunt Baron Triumph.”

The sound my skates make against the gravel is like music to my ears. I had missed this, the outside. As dangerous as it is, it gives me the liberty that no safe haven ever could. I know these streets like the back of my hand, I got this.

Maybe I enjoy myself a bit too much, skating around and humming an old song I haven’t heard in a while when I realize Josh is staring. I immediately stop what I’m doing.

“Sorry, I should be quiet,” I look away, limiting myself to just skate beside my friends.

“No, it’s okay,” He says, “I wasn’t- I was staring but I... it seemed like you were enjoying yourself.”

“I shouldn’t,” I reply, “this is not a fun trip, I’ll stop.”

“I...” Josh is about to say something when Wesley speaks up.

“Hey, look at this!” He picks up something from the street, “second left molar, nice craftsmanship on the porcelain ceramic filling...”

“Your dad taught you a lot,” says Josh.

“A thing or two.”

“It was knocked off by Triumph.”

Wesley turns around and looks at Josh with a sly smile.

“You don’t know that.”

“I only know one dude in school with a size fourteen shoe... cause I licked it.”

We look down at the mud and see the footprint that Josh is pointing to us.

“Hoyles,” whispers Wesley.

“He went east, toward San Fernando,” Mentions Josh.

“You’re like a Canadian Wolverine,” Replies Wesley in amazement.

“More like Deadpool,” I correct, “’cause the katana..?”

“Wolverine is a Canadian Wolverine,” Josh shakes his head, “can we focus right now? Look, I hunted elk every summer...”

He starts to walk away, but Wesley keeps talking.

“Your dad taught you a lot.”

Josh stops only to answer.

“A thing or two,” He smirks.

“You can track. But you can’t fight.”

“Here we go,” I roll my eyes, moving away from their discussion to look for more clues.

I don’t pay much attention to what they’re saying while I turn my back to them and analyze the footprint. Josh is right, it’s heading towards the industrial section. I know the old Hoyles’ cereal fabric is there, maybe we should take a look and see what we find...

“Run!” I turn around abruptly, raising the hammer above my head. I see Wesley sprinting towards the other side of the street, Josh gives me one panicky look before looking behind us in confusion.

“What?”

“Run!”

“Okay!” Josh runs after him with me close behind them.

We run around town like maniacs, I have the hammer ready but I don’t actually see any danger, so my fear isn’t growing but I’m not calm either. At some point, a couple of Ghoulies start to chase Josh and for some reason Wesley doesn’t let me help him. We wait until Josh gets rid of them and we go back to the running. My skates are going fast, soon enough I leave them behind and I hear Wesley scream:

“Get under the car!”

I stop harshly and skid without being able to control my movements. I trip falling on one knee and my legs and arms get a few scratches. My hammer flies like four feet away from me.

“Y/N!” Josh tries to go over to me but Wesley grabs his ankle, already under the vehicle.

“They’re coming!”

“Dude, I don’t see anybody!” He complains, obeying against his own will.

In the few seconds that takes me to stand up again, Wesley and Josh are already getting out from under the car.

“Let’s go! Go! Go! Go!”

“Wes, I’mma smash your knees with my- Where’s my hammer?” I look around frantically until Josh touches my shoulder lightly.

“Here,” He gives me the tool and I thank him silently, rushing over so we catch up with Wes.

“Wesley!” I scream after spending five more minutes running, “Stop! I think I hurt my knee when I fell, shit...”

Josh stops immediately after hearing what I said and looks over my shoulder, frowning.

“Dude,” He stops Wesley, “what the hell? Dude, there’s nobody after us. And now Y/N got hurt, look at her knee!”

I look down and I yelp at the sight. My knee is bleeding, swollen, and one of my hands is pulsating in a way that makes me think I might not be fine to continue.

“I think I can fix it,” I groan, gently touching my scratches.

“I had the Baron’s trail and now I’m all lost. Why did you do that?” Josh inquires.

Wesley seems to struggle to find a proper answer when we hear the engine of a car coming closer. Soon the golf team appears, annoying as ever.

“Great,” I grab the hammer from beside me and prepare to fight.

“Remember us, just Josh?”

“I remember there being more of you,” He retorts.

“We’re downsizing”

“Yeah, but not by choice, by circumstance.”

“The circumstance being death.”

“We’re currently taking applications for new membership.”

“Oh,” Replies Josh, “not interested.”

“Not talking to you,” complains Barry, “we’ll deal with you next. Hi, Y/N!”

“Hi, Barry,” I sigh tiredly, “how’s your wrist?”

I know them, of course. The golf team was like the lowest of them all, they weren’t so bad, only terribly stupid. During my time with the Jocks, I did some stuff for them as well, small things like collecting their balls and keeping their golf sticks clean and ready to use... I hate talking about golf cause it always sounds like I’m talking about sex.

“Better, thank you. I see you got a bad knee, I can get you an ointment for that.”

“No thanks, I’ll manage”

“What say you Fists?”

“You ready to come home?” Asks the other... is it Larry? They all have similar names, I can’t bring myself to remember, “listen to fate: Gary, Larry, Barry... Wesley”

“It doesn’t fit the line,” mumbles Barry.

“There’s a ‘y’ at the end” He replies.

“Meh, it’s kind of a stretch,” adds... Gary? I’m pretty sure it’s Gary.

“Close enough for Armageddon. Three is not a team, four can play spades.”

“Just because you have balls, doesn’t make golf a sport.”

It is, though. But I won’t say that right now.

“Gotta start somewhere to earn your way back into his good graces...”

A second car appears, this time on the other side. We’re face to face with Turbo. My wrist is killing me but I lift the hammer again, this time looking at the other side of the alley.

“Not gonna lie,” I say, “I’m starting to regret this”

“Tell me about it,” Whispers Wesley.

Turbo steps out of the car and growls. He does that a lot. As a matter of fact, it’s the only thing he does now. Wesley understands perfectly so he translates all that into a petition to fight to the death, only Josh and him, no weapons.

“You got all that from a look?”

“I speak Turbo.”

“What did I even do?” Asks Josh.

“Besides making all the wrong choices?” I ask.

“He said he doesn’t like to lose.”

“This isn’t Mario Kart! You tried to capture us, we got away”

“Wait, that was all?” I frown, “Turbo is chasing you because you won in a tag-you’re-it game?”

“He’s sensitive about this stuff,” explains Wesley.

“More like a fucking baby,” I reply.

Turbo grunts. Josh steps forward.

“Who cares?! God, this is... there is no your side or my side. Hoyles is out there trying to kill all sides. He’s killed out friends...”

“I’ll be your friend!” A small, mechanical voice replies behind us, “I love you. Let’s be besties!”

“What the fuck...” I mutter.

Larry picks it up and says he knows those bears, something tells me he’s in danger.

“That’s pretty. Put it down,” I urge him.

“They had their names stitched on their butts. What’s your name, guy?”

“I’m pretty sure he can’t answer that,” I insist, “Wesley that’s not a good sign, we need to leave.”

He nods and opens his mouth, but when Larry turns the bear around something catches our eye.

“Larry put the bear down!”

The explosion makes us fly and fall hard on the ground, disoriented and stunned. I hear screams and rushed steps around us, I open my eyes with difficulty and I see Josh’s body a few feet away from mine.

All I do before passing out is watch as the figure of Baron Triumph walks out of the dusty cloud.

Taglist.

@letsbloodmagic @hollywaterpls

#twoidiots writing #daybreak #josh wheeler #josh wheeler xreader #daybreak fanfic #eli cardashyan #angelica green #wesley fists #ms crumble #netflix

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buddaimond · 5 years

Photo

Rob Quotes (in bold) extracted from Variety. Photography by Matthew Brookes for Variety

About being Batman

“When that thing leaked, I was f—ing furious...Everyone was so upset. Everyone was panicking from my team. I sort of thought that had blown up the whole thing.”

“I was sitting next to Christopher McQuarrie...I’d never met him before. Oh, God! He’d seen me Googling myself for the past hour!” Pattinson tried to explain to the director behind the latest “Mission: Impossible” films what had happened. “No worries,” McQuarrie said, nodding. “I’d probably be doing the same thing.”

“Big movies, generally the parts aren’t as interesting — at least the stuff that was coming my way,...I guess there was some fear...I think I probably would have been a little bit nervous to have gone straight into it immediately afterwards,”

“When I was a kid, it was the only outfit that I had,” “If I actually said it in an interview (where I worn it), I would definitely have a lot of abuse afterwards,” he says with an outburst of nervous laughter. “If I successfully play the character, I can say it at the end.”

“To be honest, it was less vitriolic (casting response) than I was expecting,” he says. And he’s not deterred by the doubters: “It’s much more fun when you’re an underdog. There’s no expectation of you.”

Pattinson reveals he had an informational meeting with Marvel around the time of “Guardians of the Galaxy,” but nothing came of it. “I don’t know what I would really be chasing,” Pattinson says. “The idea of trying that transition after ‘Twilight,’ I never saw a road in that direction.” Batman was different because he was the only comic book character Pattinson always loved. “It’s actually an interesting part,” he says. “I think it’s because he doesn’t have any superpowers.”

“I’d had Batman in my mind for a while,” Pattinson says. “It’s such an absurd thing to say. I sort of had an idea to do it, and I’d been prodding Matt. He didn’t accept any prods. I kept asking to meet him.”

When Reeves finally finished a script, he relented and agreed to a meeting in Los Angeles. “And then I had to kind of try to imagine what he’d written, and I hadn’t even read the script,” Pattinson says. “I’d come with this pad full of notes.” As discussions continued, Pattinson arrived in Cannes in May, and all hell broke loose in the press. “It was terrifying,” he says. “I was like, ‘Oh f—! Does that screw me because they are so intent on secrecy?’” He found himself attending the “Lighthouse” premiere in the middle of reading the script pages that he’d just been sent. “I’m literally in Cannes in my hotel room [rehearsing],” Pattinson says. “The whole thing was a lot.”

After “The Lighthouse” screened to a rapturous standing ovation, Pattinson promptly flew back to L.A. to try on the Batsuit for the final phase of the high-stakes audition. “It’s maybe the craziest thing I’ve ever done in terms of movie stuff,” Pattinson says.

“I put it on. I remember saying to Matt, ‘It does feel quite transformative!’ He was like, ‘I would hope it does! You’re literally in the Batsuit.’” Pattinson describes what the moment was like: “You do feel very powerful immediately. And it’s pretty astonishing, something that is incredibly difficult to get into, so the ritual of getting into it is pretty humiliating. You’ve got five people trying to shove you into something. Once you’ve got it on, it’s like, ‘Yeah, I feel strong, I feel tough, even though I had to have someone squeezing my butt cheeks into the legs.’”

Although he had a clear take on how he’d play Batman, he had to adjust his movements to his new latex body. “You’re trying to think of the way to balance, how to bring something new to it and not want to scare people off,” Pattinson says. “And work in the confines of the costume.”

About himself and the movie industry

He’s noticed how much the entertainment industry has transformed since the first “Twilight” hit screens a decade ago. “It felt like the mid-budget movie completely disappeared, but then it kind of came back with Netflix and the streaming services,” he says, adding that he wishes Netflix offered a better way to navigate all its titles. “Hardly anyone sees independent movies at the cinema anyway. It would be amazing if people did.”

“I think I’d come back and my house would have flown off,” he says. “I would have absolutely nothing. I’m constantly living in terror.” Of what? He searches for an answer. “If you experience a loss of momentum, you don’t want that to happen again,” he says. “And I really enjoy working. There’s no part of me that can go off and disappear.”

Besides, he’s come to appreciate the camaraderie of the movie-making business. “There’s something about people who work in the film industry — they very much wear their heart and dreams on their sleeve,” Pattinson says. “There’s so much desire falling out of them. I think people in other jobs, their dreams aren’t valued as highly. Also, there’s nowhere to put them.” He says that if he’s in an Uber and a driver starts to pitch him a movie idea, he doesn’t shudder like other actors would. “I’m so, so into it,” Pattinson says. “I don’t want to be in L.A. to talk about f—ing restaurant reservations. I want to be in L.A. because I love movies.”

At least he still does. Pattinson says he can sneak into a multiplex, and nobody will bother him. He tried to do that the other day for Quentin Tarantino’s “Once Upon a Time … in Hollywood,” but all the shows were sold out. “It’s literally impossible to get a ticket anywhere in London,” Pattinson says with a sigh. Couldn’t he have called in a favor? “I used to have a tiny bit of power. And the power is completely gone. I can’t do anything anymore. I actually just called my publicist: ‘Can I get some free stuff? Just anything!’” he says in a mock-pleading voice. “‘I just want a package.’”

About “The Lighthouse.”

“I remember doing it thinking I don’t know how I’m going to promote it,” Pattinson says. “Every single scene is just sprinting up to a cliff.”

To settle into the character, Pattinson grew a mustache, which he’d been trying to persuade directors to let him do for other parts. He’s not offended when a reporter asks if it was a prosthetic. “It’s actually real,” he says. “I thought it looked a bit fake as well.”

Dafoe says that Pattinson will sometimes use humor to disarm others. “He’s wildly self-effacing,” Dafoe says. “If you ever talk to him about performing, he acts like he doesn’t know what he’s doing. That’s a little bit of a device to allow him more freedom. And I might add that Rob really wants to jump into things, sometimes with his eyes closed.”

On “The Lighthouse,” he had trouble seeing anything due to the stylized cinematography. “We realized, because of the combination of shooting on black-and-white negative and the 1920s lenses, you need so much light just to get anything,” Pattinson says. “We were doing one scene which was talking to each other over a table. The light is so bright, you couldn’t see the other actor. OK, this is an unexpected turn of events.” Since his character is inebriated for most of the film, Pattinson had to double down on throwing his equilibrium off-balance. But he didn’t attempt a Method approach like on 2011’s “Water for Elephants,” where he actually got plastered. “All you’re doing is trying to stay sober afterwards and hoping that no one will find out you’re drunk for a drunk scene,” he says.

Pattinson relishes all the peculiarities of “The Lighthouse.” He reveals that the crew had to move a sex scene from the frigid waters of the ocean to the shore. “We were just sitting there convulsively shivering,” he says. “It’s not very sexy at all.” And he’s eager to discuss the moment when his character pleasures himself while thinking about a figurine of a mermaid that he’s just found. “I keep masturbating,” Pattinson says of a theme that runs through his recent work. “In the last three or four movies, I’ve got a masturbation scene. I did it in ‘High Life.’ I did it in ‘Damsel.’ And ‘The Devil All the Time.’ I only realized when I did it the fourth time. But when I saw the clay figure of the mermaid, if you’re getting turned on by that, you’re in a very strange place in your life.”

About Christopher Nolan movie

Nolan wanted to meet him. “I couldn’t believe it,” Pattinson says. “He’s one of those people who seem quite out of reach.”

Five days later, he officially became the Dark Knight. “I was absolutely relieved when Matt called,” says Pattinson, who got the role over actor Nicholas Hoult. In fact, Pattinson received the career-changing news on his first day on the set of Nolan’s film. “It’s so bizarre,” he says. “I was like, ‘What a coincidence this is happening. It’s absolutely crazy.” A surprise benefit was that he was able to pepper Nolan, who made the “Dark Knight” trilogy, with questions. “I was talking about things to do with the Batsuit,” Pattinson recalls. “How to get more movements in it.”

Pattinson won’t say whether he’s committed to additional “Batman” movies. “I don’t know anything,” he says. “I’ve got an idea how to do about four scenes, and then I’m working on the rest gradually.” At one point in our conversation, he offers a mundane comment about Joaquin Phoenix, who stars in “Joker” (a movie he hasn’t seen yet), before asking to retract it. “Oh s—,” he says, adding that he’s not accustomed to thinking about spoilers. “I definitely should not say that. I’m so used to pretty art-house movies, where you can watch the movie three times and still not know what it’s about.”

It’s likely that playing Batman will invite the paparazzi back into his life, but he’s not concerned. He says that Instagram has taken the pressure off movie stars, because there’s so much free photo content of celebrities (and wannabe celebrities) on the web. “There’s no money in it for people to follow you around,” Pattinson says. “There are just so many photos of me you can get in a black baseball cap getting a diet peach Snapple. Or on Friday night, getting a Kit Kat.”

Like Bruce Wayne, Pattinson has taken shelter in his own Batcave. “I made it impossible for people to follow me,” he says. “I’d be completely hermetic. It wouldn’t be worth it to wait outside my house, because I wouldn’t come out.”

#Robert Pattinson #Batman #The Lighthouse #Variety #Christopher Nolan #Tenet

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enchantedisabella · 5 years

Text

Modern Greek Gods

my ig is vivacityandvellichor

Apollo: patron god of memes/vines. absolutely has a meme acc with over a million followers. you think peter parker, a fucking gen z meme legend, isn’t his illegitimate child? that he made just to spite athena with spiders? you are w r o n g

Zeus: the one those Straight White Guys (ew) pray to. often they place maga hats at his altar but even Zeus isn’t that much of a douchebag to support tr*mp and he burns them and strikes those guys with lightning at once. he’s that kind of dad that refuses to vaccinate his kids tho (sigh)

Athena: literally the inventor of just fucking shitposts that mess with your head and are filmed by Apollo saying shit like ‘i have faced God and stepped over Her heaven to get to my throne’. probably runs a shitpost acc and a feminism acc at the same time with wildly different posts, but everyone knows it’s her. there’s even accounts comparing her captions on her different accs bc one will be like ‘big mood gonna go die now bc for some reason i didn’t want the tide pod challenge to die and I DID IT wtf is wrong w me im begging for the sweet release of death’ and the other will be like ‘systematic oppression is only beneficial to straight white males who will continue to oppress poc, women and lgbt+ if they don’t recognise their privilege’

Persephone: kindest person ever. except when you try her, karma’s gonna be a bitch to you. usually she just stays home and plays with her cats, probably spends half her life as a stalker on tumblr or running an aesthetic ig, and the other half baking muffins to throw in the face of her enemies but also to give the best ones to her mom. is definitely taylor swift reincarnated, there’s no doubt.

Demeter: andrea swift reincarnated. that soft friend who will go batshit crazy if something happens to her precious daughter. 100/10 has a very good mother-daughter relationship. hates gossip column blogs but loves it when the tea is served for someone that deserves it. (kanye anyone?)

Aphrodite: works at buzzfeed, no doubt. one of those fashion bloggers with a ridiculously huge influence over celebrities even though all they do is post outfit combinations and promote products, and always has steaming hot tea to serve on every website available. loves dishing out to demeter and gets along surprisingly well with apollo who is also invited to those premieres with her (though for different reasons ofc). runs the most colourful ig acc ever, has an insane amount of followers. wakes up with perfect hair and no one knows how.

Poseidon: youtuber. one of those annoying ones who always say to subscribe to their channel before really doing anything much or saying anything worthwhile? like, why not say it at the end when people actually know what your content is about??? always gets invited to those youtuber conventions but hellaaa problematic. not a total dirtbag, supports feminism and everything, but he just has an overall toxic personality. athena stays tf away. somehow is actually lowkey hot tho and has had flings with every other well known celeb who lives near him.

Hades: HIGHKEY anime stan. pretends to like shit like my chemical romance but actually jams to one direction when alone. video games and pokemon go is their life 24/7, but they still try to hide the fact that they waste their (probably few) remaining days on it even tho everyone already knows. has tried tiktok once and went viral for being hilariously fucking bad. definitely has a meme face. apollo once made a meme out of hades’ face to spite him but it actually also went viral and now hades is known as the ‘pikachu corndog guy ’ around the internet. sometimes ppl ask for selfies on the street and he h a t e s it. will flip them off but can’t swear without sounding like a twelve year old who hasn’t gone through puberty.

Dionysus: is incredibly good at tiktok. once did such a smooth pop and lock with six of his nymphs that it went viral. can shuffle up the stairs like hell was freezing over but he didn’t give a shit. runs those eating asmr accs that’s mainly just him stirring drinking wine super loudly until he passes out (somehow still gets a staggering ton of views), but before that, poseidon makes sure to film all the stupid shit he says to put it on his youtube channel. athena’s sometimes there too and uses his overconfident phrases for her shitposts. needless to say, dionysus is a legend on stan twitter.

Ares: will Fite you. is literally the equivalent of a human trash can. people do put maga hats at his altar and he fucking wears them like the fucking trashbag scum that he is. athena plots different strategies to kill him and has polls for the best ones on her story. Straight White Guy trashhhhhhhhh. nobody likes him. he runs an ig acc with maybe four followers at best, and they’re all just all his other own accs that he uses to anonymously harass athena so she can’t shove his own failures into his face. she always knows it’s him, though. people beat him into pulp on online arguments but he refuses to admit that he’s wrong. gets a kick out of harassing people on the subway. athena refers to him as ‘it’ every time she talks about him because she says that subhuman feces should be referred to by the correct pronouns.

Hephaestus: that one sleazy guy at school who’s best friends with hades but isn’t as bad as asshole ares. knows that ares is morally wrong, but still is kind of ok with him unlike everyone else. wouldn’t go so far as to like him tho. that geeky guy who always gets invited to parties. nobody knows how, but he’s in the ‘popular’ crowd, but often overlooked. some people think that it’s because he does all his hw for them, but actually, hephaestus is that guy who’s sleazy and cheap but really slick and conniving. can get himself into any club. that guy who only uses social media to stalk others, and he follows like 1000+ people but nobody will follow him. kind of a douche but not so much to become revolting. haaaaaates poseidon bc they’re both toxic af and recognise it in each other but not in themselves. that guy who apologises for a racist thing from eight years ago that’s been brought up. actually means the apology but doesn’t have much empathy.

Hera: rules wattpad and i mean rules it. her stories basically win every bad boy x good girl cliché award ever. terrible grammar but somehow has a shit ton of votes and comments. has had a string of shitty boyfriends but only has eyes for zeus, the most problematic guy ever whom she keeps on returning to. she blogs about all her relationship failures mostly because she’s too hooked up on zeus, and all her ten million followers tell her to get some therapy or help but she never does. queen of falling into toxic relationships and honestly athena hates her personally but feels really sorry for her. probably doesn’t understand feminism all that much but still wants equal rights for everyone. doesn’t care if you’re lgbt or a diff race, and i don’t mean accepting i mean she literally does not give a flying fuck. one of those ppl who is ‘fake woke’ bc they actually do have good morals at heart but say things like ‘i don’t see colour’ only for athena to reply scathingly w things like ‘you actually do, you just don’t want to acknowledge your own white privilege by admitting it bc to admit it is to admit that you actually have been born w an upper hand’. def is one of those straight white girls who actually are decent and try their hardest to understand racism but just can’t get it. vents on wattpad yet somehow only gains followers.

Artemis: ah, saved the best for last. arty is a fucking queen, she’s the one who consistently burns tr*mp on twitter and challenges views. probably an actual activist irl who is v well known and promotes herself through ig. is probably best friends with taylor swift and emma watson. probably lowkey has the best singing voice and is actually an artist using music to protest. is mutuals with her feminist acc with athena on instagram. probably best friends w her and they do everything together, run a joint private finsta with a fairly small following of 500 people but post the most aesthetic bff photos.

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