#<- yeah this was the best tag i could come up with don’t judge me

[dewedup]

08.14.23

[nereidprinc3ss]

promiscuous

in which spencer reid doesn't like that flirty!reader is going on a date. he makes that known. (bandages universe)

flangst, 18+ for discussions of sex warnings/tags: gn!reader I think, mentions of going to a bar/going for drinks, very suppressed mutual pining, jealousy from Spencer, reader implied to engage in casual sex, reader calls themself a slut somewhat disparagingly but like as a joke, it all gets resolved, he is very sweet, he rambles when he's nervous a/n: oh God I love them so much they are like so in love and they literally have no idea at all because they're so dumb... but WE can tell.. turning point for them

“Penelope wanted me to confirm that you guys are coming to drinks with us tonight?”

It’s something of a standing tradition for the BAU on the last Friday of every month, and usually you’d agree, but tonight, you have other plans. 

“Raincheck for me,” you say, sliding some files into your bag which you do not plan on reviewing. “I have a thing.”

“What thing do you have on a Friday night?” Morgan asks skeptically. You don’t bother looking at him as you hide a smile. 

“A date, Morgan. You jealous?”

“You’re going on a date?”

You’d nearly forgotten Spencer was in the room until he spoke—he’s been in one of those quiet moods of his where he sort of floats around everyone else and makes himself insubstantial. As you cast him a sidelong glance, trying to figure out his tone of voice, you see he’s frowning. Nearly grimacing. His brows are drawn so tight you’re worried he’ll give himself a headache. 

“Uh, yeah. I am.” Suddenly, your parade feels a little rained on. 

“With who?”

You pause, looking back down at your desk with a new frown of your own and shaking your head as if you could clear it that way. “Just… some guy from OT.”

“Dalton?”

Ding ding ding. Somehow he got it right on the first guess, and for some reason, you wish he hadn’t. You don’t want Spencer knowing who you’re going on a date with. It feels wrong. 

“Does it matter?” You evade, shoving your things with a little more force into your bag. 

“Well Dalton is an idiot, so I guess I’m just trying to figure out why you’d go out with him.”

“And if it’s not Dalton?”

“Then I’d tell you all the guys in OT are idiots and you shouldn’t waste your time on any of them.”

“Alright—” Morgan passes between your desks, placing a friendly hand on your back as he does. “I’m gonna let you two hash this out by yourselves.” He gives you a look, eyebrows raised, unsmiling, that means, go easy on the kid. It makes you feel terribly guilty. And more than a little defensive. 

“Night,” you call halfheartedly. He only waves as the glass doors swing shut behind him, leaving you and boy genius alone in the bull pen.

Silence falls, cloistering you as you finish packing up together. It seems to magnify the buzz of the overheads. You notice him intentionally lingering, and you sling your bag over your shoulder with a sigh. 

“Okay,” you say, turning to face him with your whole body. He seems uncomfortable with that, but you’re not letting this go. “What is this? Why are you mad at me?”

“I’m not mad at you,” he mumbles, refusing to meet your eyes. “I just think—”

“Yeah. You’ve made your thoughts abundantly clear. I don’t know why you’re judging me for going on a date.”

“I’m not judging you! I just think you deserve better than a guy who looks like he… snorts protein powder for every meal and has less capacity for intelligent conversation than a mealworm.”

“Okay. Do you have someone in mind?”

The words come out a little sharper than you’d meant for them to. A little louder. Spencer looks like a scolded puppy as he swallows. 

“Not specifically. Just—someone more like you.”

He just doesn’t get it. You fold your jacket over your arm. 

“Yeah, well, until someone more like me comes along and asks me out, Dalton is the best I’ve got. I know he’s not my soulmate, Reid. But he asked me to drinks, and I said yes.”

The room is mostly dark. Only a few fluorescents remain on to cast Spencer in an almost clinical glow against a dark grey background. You’ve been here before. It feels like an interrogation. An environment where you’re practically begging for the truth without saying please, but there’s only room for measured dishonesty. 

Spencer speaks under his breath, fiddling with the strap of his own bag. “He’s not good enough for you.”

“What do you want me to do?” It’s an exasperated, confrontational sigh. Your arms raise and fall heavily back to your sides. Another long grey hallway of silence that leads nowhere. When it becomes clear he doesn’t have the answer, or he’s not comfortable sharing, you straighten. “I’ll see you Monday, Reid.”

Your spirits are completely dampened as you trudge to the elevators. What once seemed like an exciting opportunity now only serves as a depressing reminder that you’re wasting your time with a man who isn’t what you want. Maybe you should just call the whole thing off. 

“Wait,” Spencer calls, half-jogging to catch the open elevator. His bag bobs with every step, pens and things jingling around inside. It’s endearing, even though you’re upset with him. Your arms remain stubbornly crossed, but he makes it anyway. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ruin your mood.”

You laugh dryly. “Yeah, well…”

“It’s just that…” he sniffs and looks down, hair falling in front of his face. He really is sweet, even when he’s kind of a dick. He’s full of so much sincerity he doesn’t know what to do with it all. “I know how you are—you’re special, and funny, and intelligent, and, and Dalton—all those qualities are wasted on him. He looks at you and he just sees a pretty face. It may sound trite, but… he doesn’t deserve you.”

You sigh again, heart squeezing. The glowing light on the panel of floor numbers flickers. “I know your heart is in the right place, alright? But it’s not about who deserves me or who doesn’t. I’m not a prize. I’m a person, and people like to feel wanted. Sometimes, it’s just—it’s about who’s there, and who likes me enough to say it to my face. Sometimes that’s all I need, and I know you didn’t mean it like this, but when you say he doesn’t deserve me, it really seems like you’re not considering what I might want at all. Maybe Dalton is what I want.”

God—this elevator ride is like, comedically long. 

“Is he what you want?”

At least he has the bravery to ask. 

You glance over at Spencer, washed out bloodless and looking like he’s prepared to flinch, like he doesn’t know if he’s ready for the answer. The doors ding and slide open, and stale air whooshes from the chrome compartment into the lobby like a held breath finally exhaled. You swallow. 

“I don’t know why it matters to you.”

“Because you’re my friend and I want to see you happy,” he insists, trailing after you as you speed walk through the lobby. Every click of your heeled boots echos. 

“Then shouldn’t you be supporting me?”

“I’m not going to support you in making the wrong choice.”

The conversation spills out into the bitter-cold parking lot. You turn around to face him. 

“Respectfully, you have no idea what’s right or wrong for me. I don’t like whatever this is,” you say, gesturing with a finger between the two of you, as if the conflict were a tangible thing—a phone line hanging between your hearts. “I don’t know if it’s, like, jealousy, or some misplaced feeling of possessiveness, or protectiveness, or—”

“It’s not like that!” He splutters. 

“Okay—so what is it like? If you want to see me happy, why don’t you support me in pursuing the things that make me happy? And if that’s meaningless sex with some guy from operational tech, so be it! You are not in a position to give your two cents on who I sleep with!”

“I wasn’t trying to—I wasn’t even thinking about—about sex! I don’t care who you sleep with!”

He’s turning increasingly pink. 

“Fine. But if you weren’t thinking about sex, if you thought I was under any illusion that Dalton was going to be my fucking Prince Charming then clearly you’re not equipped to have this conversation. I know he’s an idiot. I’m not looking for my soulmate—thank you, though, for reminding me that it’s completely fucking pointless to even pretend. I love you, Spencer, but grow up. And stay out of my business.”

And with that, you’re turning on your heel and marching toward your car. Spencer calls your name—once. Twice. The wind lashes against your bare arms and stings your eyes as you fumble with your keys. 

It’s just the wind. 

Nothing else. 

-

Maybe you’re simply not meant for love. 

It’s a narcissistic thought in the sense that everyone has it at some point in their lives—everyone falls victim to the delusion that they are so uniquely wretched, so singularly incapable of being understood by another person. It’s the universal illusion of solitude. And you’d thought yourself above it for a long time. In college, there was fling after fling. Your bed was never empty if you didn’t want it to be. In your young adult life, you have other priorities—but you rarely have to be alone. 

Now, though, as you sit on a rickety metal stool deep in the bowels of the Bureau’s records room, banished to sort through files in search of one that had been mishandled during a cold case and is now supposedly relevant again, (although you’re not sure it actually exists) you’re pondering the nature of those connections you’d been so sure your life was full of. Were they all artificial? Designed by you subconsciously to manufacture a sense of complacent satisfaction? To stave off the aching, gnawing loneliness in your gut that you’re only now becoming aware of and has been eating you away in bigger and bigger bites since Friday night?

Morgan was supposed to be just as arm-deep into a box of dusty manila folders as you are now, but he talked his way out of it, and you’re sitting in an awkward twenty-minute-long-so-far silence with Spencer. Which isn’t helping anything. 

The tension comes and goes like the moon pulling the tides. It’s like you can sense it wafting off of each other—you feel it in the prickle on the back of your neck and the buzz in your stomach when he’s about to say something, and you glance over, and he’s already looking at you with his lips parted, and then he doesn’t say anything after all, and the silence reinforces itself. 

It gets frustrating. 

Not to mention this task is equal parts mind numbing and infuriating. Maybe Hotch just hates you. 

Eventually Spencer clears his throat, and you welcome the distraction. 

“What year are you on?”

You give him a long look which he doesn’t reciprocate, because you want to say, really? But eventually you pick up the edge of the box you’re sifting through and double check. 

“Uh… June 1979 through August 1979.”

He nods matter-of-facts. “They should be making us wear gloves.”

Your incoming tangent spidey senses are tingling. It’s not exactly an opportune time, but it’s better than silence. 

Plus—you’re pretty sure this is his idea of a peace offering. 

“Why’s that?” You mutter, flicking through yellowed papers. 

“Wood pulp paper contains an alum-rosin mixture to minimize ink bleeding, but in the presence of moisture such as that introduced in trace amounts by our fingertips it generates a diluted sulfuric acid solution. They didn’t start adding alkaline buffers into paper until 1986, and the cellulose chains that comprise the structure of the paper inevitably shorten and break down over time, so we’re actively degrading these documents by touching them without gloves.”

“Did you say sulfuric acid?”

“I said a diluted sulfuric acid solution,” he clarifies, utterly missing the point of your question as he so often does in that disarmingly endearing way of his. “Sorry, by the way.”

You look up from a photo of bloodied bell-bottom jeans. He’s caught you by surprise. 

“For what?”

“For—”

He struggles with the words—you watch his lips form a few silent ones before he gives up on the nonchalant act and sets his file on his lap. He can’t seem to tear his eyes from it, but you don’t mind. 

“For everything on Friday. I… I know it was none of my business. I sometimes struggle with… keeping my thoughts to myself. Especially when it concerns someone I care about. But I wasn’t judging you, I swear. What you said about—about sex, I—” he sighs, obviously frustrated with himself, and pushes a bit of hair out of his eyes. “That’s not where my mind was at, at all. Whatever you… do, or don’t do, is none of my business. Obviously. You don’t need me to tell you that. You don’t need me to tell you anything. I just really wanted to clarify that I wasn’t shaming you or judging you for—”

“Spencer,” you say gently, cutting him off and reeling him in before he can dig any deeper. 

“Yeah. Sorry.”

He glows under the canned lighting, a soft aura of white blurring the edges of him. The stale room buzzes. It’s otherwise quiet down here. Peaceful, almost. 

From anyone else, you might consider it overstepping. 

You wouldn’t have been willing to forgive them in the first place. 

But it’s not anyone else. 

“Thank you, for apologizing. I really appreciate it.”

He glances up at you, sort of hunched—always trying to make himself smaller than whatever force created him had intended. The deep brown of his eyes is melted and swirling and sweet and nervous. He’s not naturally good at these interpersonal things, but he’s always trying. He’s always pushing himself for you.

Do you ask too much? 

Do you offer enough in return?

Struck by sudden insecurity, you look away. Go back to your files. 

Perhaps you made a mountain out of a molehill and told him to climb it. 

“I mean, I am kind of a slut. I wouldn’t blame you for thinking so,” you laugh airily. “Maybe it was a good reality check.”

A trailing silence. An air conditioner kicks on. 

“What? That’s not—that’s not at all what I was trying to say.”

“Spencer, it’s fine.”

His stool squeaks as he sits up straighter. 

“No, I really want you to understand. Even if I cared or thought about how many people you might sleep with—which I don’t—and even if I determined that you were… sexually promiscuous, I wouldn’t assign a moral value to that judgement. Sexual promiscuity is observed all the time in the animal kingdom, it’s biologically sound and justified and in less misogynistic cultures where bonds forged between humans weren’t socioeconomic arrangements dependent on women being viewed as commodities first and foremost, it’s completely unremarkable. But I haven’t made that determination. All I know is that… you’re you. And that’s all that’s ever going to matter to me.”

Silence falls. Your voice gets stuck in your throat. 

How does he so casually show you more kindness than anyone else has ever managed to show you in your life?

Spencer takes pity on you. 

“And… we’ve talked entirely too much about something that’s none of my business today.”

It’s wry and earns a chuckle from you. Even Spencer manages a chagrined smile. That same strand of hair falls loose as he looks down. Light bounces from his self-effacing smirk. 

You fiddle absentmindedly with the fraying corner of a folder, and you’re about to open your mouth, about to speak into the sparkling cloud that the easy laughter and the melted tension has left in its wake, and tell him how much you appreciate him and how kind he truly is and undoubtedly whatever you say will be made more beautiful because of it—because of the affection you have for each other—and then you stop, eyes catching on the case file between your fingers. You frown. 

“Wait—what’s the case number we’re looking for?”

“91 18 00063 7.”

You hold the file up, eyes alight. 

“I found it.”

Spencer frowns and takes it without asking. You watch as he reviews the number in tiny black typeface along the top of the document. His brow scrunches in disbelief. 

“I genuinely didn’t think we were ever going to find it,” he murmurs after leading through the photos and glances back up at you. “We had thirty years of boxes to look through and you found it in under an hour. You’re like magic.”

It’s impossible not to smile. You feel all warm and sparkly as you snatch it back from him and stand, straightening your jacket. 

“Will you tell that to Hotch?”

“I… will tell anyone who will listen,” he assures you, and you’re confident he’s following as you make your way through the maze of stacks. “Are we not gonna clean up our mess?”

“There are people who will take care of that later.”

“Yeah. Like me. During my lunch break.”

“Don’t worry. You’re going to be well rewarded for your efforts today.”

“What does that mean?” He mumbles, and you can practically hear his blush. 

You smile to yourself. 

Still got it. 

for more of these two, check out the bandages universe masterlist!

[fushiguro-megloomy]

request: [modern au] headcannons for childhood friends to lovers  pairing: viktor x gn!reader tags: nothing bad, very sfw, fluffy notes: ill be so for real with you i feel like i'm very weak at doing headcannons ;-; but i tried. i hope this is what you were looking for anon <3 divider from enchanthings-a

You’d known Viktor for as long as you could remember, his house across the street from yours. As a curious kid, you’d often linger while he tinkered with small projects, asking questions. Your friendship really solidified one summer when your bike broke, and Viktor fixed it with surprising enthusiasm. To repay him, you let him ride on the handlebars while you scooted him around the neighborhood.

He's absolutely critiquing your work before the teachers even get their hands on it. Sitting beside you at your desk clump, thick eyebrows pulled together and scribbling little “???” or just straight up “no” in the margins of your handwriting. You always glare at him but you're secretly grateful. 

He's observant, if you were hungry or tired he would wordlessly slide snacks onto your desk. He's not the best with social queues, but he knows when you're upset and he'll hover around you awkwardly until he blurts some random fact or sarcastic comment meant to distract you.

He's easily jealous, but in the way that he gets pouty, throwing himself into projects and denying anything is even wrong.

Definitely getting into squabbles all the time bickering like an old married couple

He's always gave you something handmade for your birthday. You still have it all. He's not big on his own birthdays but you always bring him a homemade cupcake.

This is not an original thought but he's definitely a gossip, ESPECIALLY as you grow into teen-hood. Not outwardly, but still he would unleash all his unfiltered opinions onto you, and his face definitely gives him away when he's silently judging someone. Mans got a wicked side eye.

Viktor had taken over his parents’ garage as his workshop, and it quickly became your second home. Most of your free time was spent perched on a stool, watching him work or pestering him with questions. You fell asleep there so often that he eventually squeezed a secondhand couch into the tiny space, insisting you needed somewhere more comfortable to crash.

You're each other's first kiss, but it doesn't happen until senior year. You're in his garage, complaining about never having kissed someone and he's like alright so let's kiss??? Things spiral from there.

“I mean, what kind of tragic story is that?” you grumble, tossing a pillow at him. “Eighteen and never kissed anyone. I’ll be the cautionary tale for future students.”  Viktor chuckles softly but doesn’t look up from his work. “I don’t see what the rush is. It’s not as if it matters.” “It matters to me,” you insist, sitting up. “Don’t you want to at least know what it’s like?” He stared at you for a moment, then let out a sigh, setting his tools aside. “Alright, then.” You blinked at him, confused. “Alright what?” He stepped closer, hands slipping into his pockets as he looked down at you. “Let’s kiss.” Your heart skipped a beat. “What?!” “You’re complaining about it, so, we kiss, you stop worrying about it, and we both move on. Simple.” His voice was steady, but the faint pink rising to his cheeks betrayed him. “You’re serious?” you asked, sitting up straighter. “Unless you’re too scared.” That did it. “I’m not scared,” you snapped, standing to face him. “Good,” he murmured, leaning in just enough for you to feel his breath against your lips. “Then stop talking.” Before you could come up with a retort, his lips pressed against yours, soft and careful. It was brief but left you reeling, your heart pounding as he pulled back. “Well?” he asked, tilting his head. “That should suffice, no?” You stared at him, dumbfounded, before bursting into laughter. “Yeah… yeah, I guess it’ll do.” He smirked, turning back to his workbench, though the tips of his ears were unmistakably red. “You’re welcome.” It was just a kiss, you told yourself. But as you sat back down, touching your lips absentmindedly, you couldn’t help but wonder why your heart was still racing.

©lilsworks 2024

[grimm-writings]

Hi there!

I'd like to request something for the Laios party x reader where reader licks rocks like how archaeologists sometimes do to determine if it's a rock or a fossil. They just won't stop licking stuff. One moment you are just having a chat and walking side by side and the next reader grabs a rock and licks it. How would they react to their crush licking things that are certainly not food?

“stop licking the damn thing!”

…ft! touden party x gn! reader, platonic izutsumi & reader

…tags! fluff, some crack, headcanon format, grimm doesn't know shit about rocks

…wc! 342 ; 400 ; 405 ; 344 ; 303 = 1794

…notes! this ask enraptured me i had to complete it posthaste. i’m not an expert in archeology or geology, but i hope you enjoy! 

Laios

“Ooh, can I have a lick?”

His ass does NOT give a fuck.

You could do anything and he wouldn’t be fazed I’m dead serious.

Honestly, once you do it in front of him he’d steer the conversation towards your study and how you figure out each time what is a rock and what is a fossil.

He may not fully take in all the information you give him.  This isn’t a topic he’s admittedly too interested in.

Honestly he’d probably take up some of your advice and see if he tastes monster he can figure out certain things about it.  Considering most monsters are made of raw meat, he has to be held back by your fellow partymates.

Someone (Chilchuck) usually has to encourage you to not “enable his behaviours.”

Overall, Laios simply does not judge!  He’s open and welcoming, and will even take part in your study with you!

(It’s an added bonus that he really likes how you explain things to him…)

Almost like an eager dog, Laios leans over your shoulder to look at the stone in your hand.  Prepared to explain yourself, like usual, you take a breath. “May I?” he interrupts you.  You still for a second.  Does he mean…? You slowly lift the rock up to the taller man behind you.  You don’t have any words as he leans down to give a small lick. You’re almost flattered from how open he is to it. At the taste, Laios’ eyebrows furrow, and he seems to seriously try to dissect the flavour.  He hums and tilts his head to you.  “Salty?” “Yeah,” you reply, slowly growing a bit more comfortable as you get an excuse to talk about your study, “so that means this rock might contain evaporite minerals.” Laios smiles slightly, leaning back to his full height to converse with you in a more casual position.  “Which are?” Your conversation continues, with Laios taking mental notes that he’ll hopefully remember for later next time he comes across a monster. Maybe if you find a gargoyle…

Marcille

Sorry she is so judgemental.

You are so lucky she likes you or else she’ll loudly give her opinion on how gross it is.

Well, that is until she learns the context as to why.

She’ll still be a little bit unsure, wondering if it’s proper conduct at all.

Marcille is trying her best, she really is, but you can’t just end a conversation so suddenly because you saw a rock, licked it in front of her, and said “hm… sedimentary.”

She wonders every day what she did to deserve such an… interesting taste in crushes. 

Though, like all things, give Marcille some time and she’ll warm up to your habits a bit more.  It may even be that she’ll be wondering about her study of the dungeon, running her hand along the wall, and thinking that she could call out to you to taste the wall and tell her the material.

She may not try out the method herself, but she’ll at least tolerate how you do it.  There’s a science behind it, after all…

Marcille stares as you lick your lips and hum to yourself.  Her mouth is a thin line and she’s trying her best not to come out with a disapproving comment. “Any… interesting findings…?”  She stiffly asks instead, gripping Ambrosia as if you’ll try licking her to figure out the levels of Mana too.  You can never be too cautious, even if she is only made out of wood. You smile at Marcille, either blissfully unaware of her austerity or pretending to be.  You hold up the stone in your hand and outline something with your finger.  “I think if we break this, we might find some fossils inside it.  You can keep it for your research if you want.” Marcille’s ears perk up slightly at that.  “For… me?”  She asks aloud, as if there’s anyone else who’d be interested in dungeon rocks.  As soon as she processes it she’s flushed and avoiding eye contact.  “I mean, this is your field of study, not mine!  I couldn’t possibly…” But you take her hands in your own, and place the fossil in her palm.  Marcille’s breath hitches when you take her fingers and fold them over the stone. “I trust you to come up with something.”  You beam at the elf, and she thinks that she might just have to take a chance in your skills.

Chilchuck

Not exactly open to it, not entirely critical about it either…

…But you will get a bit of a look whenever you do it.

He might be more the kind to make sure you aren’t outright doing it at stupid moments.  You better not get any ideas looking at those statues!

Sometimes you’ll be about to hold the stone up to your mouth, and right when your tongue is about to touch it, you’ll hear Chilchuck sigh a “don’t.”

Honestly this guy is treating you like a dog with something it shouldn’t have in its mouth.  Don’t worry, worrying and fretting is how he shows his love.

Even if he doesn’t like admitting to it…

If you try to explain how licking things helps in your study, Chil is inclined to raise his eyebrow and say that your field must be full of weirdos.

Then again, he’s the one who likes you so maybe he shouldn’t be too harsh…

He’s willing to let you do what you need to do but that doesn’t mean you’re free from his scathing commentary.

Crouched down, you analyse some rock in front of you.  It stands out a fair bit from most of the other geodes down here.  What could it be…? You lean in, your tongue grazing the stone slightly, and you lick.  The tip of your tongue familiarises itself with the taste.  Maybe metamorphic…? “Are you serious?”  You freeze at the sound of Chilchuck’s boyish voice.  On your hands and knees licking rocks isn’t exactly the ideal position to be judged in, even as you turn to look at the half-foot, arms crossed.  “Senshi is in the middle of cooking, no need to resort to eating rocks.” You roll your eyes.  You’re used to how Chilchuck treats your study at this point.  “I was just curious.” Chilchuck scoffs, walking up to pull you by the back of your collar up onto your feet again, which you do with some coercion.  “Yeah sure,” he says, “just wanna confirm you haven’t completely lost your marbles yet.” You look up at him, and squint.  Holding back a laugh, you mutter, “was that…?” “No, it wasn’t a dad joke,”  Chilchuck sighs, leaving you to your devices again.  “Just don’t do anything stupid when no one’s watching.” He hopes even as you giggle and confirm, you won’t notice the bright blush blooming on Chilchuck’s cheeks and tips of his ears.  How embarrassing…

Senshi

Also winning the dgaf war I fear.

He’d watch you lick some of the rocks you had picked out from your travels while resting.

It comes as no surprise that it then crosses his mind if the flavour changes when cooked, which he asks if he can do with some of your selection.

You can use your imagination on how Marcille and Chilchuck reacted when told that today’s dinner is … just rocks.

(Laios is disappointed that it isn’t any cool monster rocks.)

One delightful montage later, and ‘tis finished!  Since they are for your research, Senshi insists you have the first bite.

Crunch… and oh, such unique flavours!

You gush to Senshi about how this is a major breakthrough in how different minerals react to cooking conditions, and he gives you his observations too.

Honestly, just sort of wholesome bonding!

“Aye, this one cooked easily, while this one took plenty more time.” You nod eagerly as you watch Senshi point to two different stones.  “That’s because one is an igneous rock, which is magmatic.  The other is a sedimentary rock, which carries different minerals from lakes and oceans.  Separation in cooking must have resulted in different reactions!  I wonder how different metamorphic rocks would react…” As you mumble to yourself, Senshi happily continues his meal-making, occasionally responding back to you with hums and comments about what else each observed in his experimentation. Even when you had finished up your meal entirely, you thanked Senshi with the widest grin on your face.  He couldn’t help but be just a little flattered when you go on to joke that you should bring him home with you so he can help with your research. In return, Senshi listens to you, and hangs on your every word as you explain your findings to him.  Even if not too nutritious of a meal, the minerals from the rocks provide some calcium and other such buffs! And well…  If he can keep that happiness prolonged with his cooking, then he’s doing a very good job providing for you indeed!

Izutsumi

“Why are you eating rocks?  Looks gross.”

Make way for the #1 hater…

Izutsumi refuses to listen to any such rationalities you make about your study or why you lick rocks (even though she’s the one who asked), she’s still finding it icky and weird.

You’d have to fight fire with fire when it comes to her, you’ll question why she does some habits she does in return – such as licking her hand.

She’ll look at you like you’re stupid, before telling you that it’s a way for her to clean herself and notice if there’s anything caught in her fur.

“Ah, so like how I would lick rocks to identify anything embedded in them too!”

…How dare you try to rationalise yourself with her own logic, heathen.

Jail for reader.  Jail for 1000 years.

She’s not one to so readily accept other people’s weird quirks, but eventually she has to find that she’ll look stupid if she doesn’t…  It’s a bit of a dirty scheme, but it works.

“Come on, Izu, just give it a try!  I promise it just tastes like water.” “What kinda water?!”  She shoots back. You pause.  “W…Water?” This is how the argument between whether or not water has a flavour comes to be.  Izutsumi insists that some water tastes icky while others taste nice.  You have to explain that this pure water simply doesn’t have a taste.  She doesn’t believe you. In fact, Izutsumi makes you give the sedimentary stone another taste before affirming, it just tastes like water.  She’s about to grab your shoulders and shake you.  What kind of water?! It takes plenty of encouragement and an immediate failsafe orange juice Senshi squeezed out for her to ‘get rid of’ the taste when you get Izutsumi to taste the stone. She still hasn’t forgiven you… 

[goldenlikedayl1ght]

the albatross - m. murdock

a/n: hi everyone! so this is that weird and off putting reader i was mentioning earlier! she's not that weird but she's sort of odd so yeah. also i know bucky is the winter soldier but idk how else to tag this so oh well! i do have lore and stuff for readers time as a soldier so i'll include that in later installments! i was kind of in a writers block and this pushed me out of that. so enjoy! please please tell me what you thought and if you want more! warnings: cursing, mentions of death, war, torture, pain, people being dead, reader having horrible people skills and ptsd, mentions of sex maybe? uhmmm in general reader is just sort of strange and this is her and matt's early relationship, so sorry if i missed anything ! word count: 3.6k summary: you have spent the past ninety (give or take) years tortured and in pain. then, a handsome stranger comes into your life and changes everything. pairing: matt murdock x winter soldier!fem!reader now playing: the albatross - taylor swift "i'm the albatross/i swept in at the rescue/the devil that you know/looks now more like an angel/i'm the life you chose/and all this terrible danger"

You’re working a morning shift at the bakery when he comes in. The pastries in the case are laid out just so, and you have been meticulously working on this sign for your fall specials. You are determined to focus on something that is not how poorly you slept, your hair tied up in a braid behind you as you work.

You’re determined to get these pumpkin stems drawn correctly; a green marker clenched in your hand. Your knuckles are white with the tension you are holding in your fingers. It’s around eight in the god damn morning, and you have been awake since around three a.m.

You don’t even hear the bell ring, nor do you hear the click-clacking of a cane on the tiled floors, you only hear an awkward clearing of the throat, to which you spin around, about to throw the marker at the customer, but stopping when you realize what you’re doing.

The customer smiles awkwardly at you, and you recognize instantly that between his glasses and cane, he is most definitely blind. You almost feel silly, until you remember everything, and you wish that there was more moments where you think you’re silly for being paranoid.

And there’s something else, too. You look at this man for a few moments, before realizing that he is so god damn hot. Which, is weird, because you have not felt anything for any man or woman in years, too busy focusing on other things, too busy thinking about everything that’s happened. But god, the stubble tracing his face, the way his dark hair falls, and the way his hand wraps around his cane..

But what gets you really is his lips. Maybe you’re staring, maybe you don’t care. But his lips are this pretty pink, and you find yourself getting lost in the nicest daydream you’ve had in a very long time..

And then, you snap out of that fantasy to remind yourself that you are working and don’t even know his name.

“Hi, sorry,” You cough awkwardly, “Was just focused,” You tell him, approaching the counter. You wipe your sweaty hands on your apron, before putting on your best ‘I’m a friendly bakery worker who just wants to sell you pastries, also tip me please!’ smile on. “What can I get you?” You ask.

“Do you guys have apple turnovers?” It is the first time this fall that is under 65 degrees, so you understand that there is some cravings for autumn snacks.

“Yeah, yeah,” You move towards the case to get some, “Just the one?”

“Three, actually. For the office.” He hums.

“Some big office,” Your voice is a sarcastic mumble, not really for the an to hear but he chuckles at it, and you almost think it’s weird that he an hear you but your brain tells you not to judge, since there is a whole lot the handsome stranger could judge you for.

“We’re a small business. Very friendly, very personable.”

You cannot help yourself, and you find yourself asking, “What sort of business are you in?” What the handsome stranger does not know is that you are insatiably angry at yourself for asking that because you had pretty much promised yourself that you were never going to have any sort of relationship—it wouldn’t be fair to them, it wouldn’t be fair to you. And as previously established, that wasn’t a problem, because you weren’t really attracted to anyone before this handsome stranger waltzed on into the bakery.

“I’m a lawyer.” He smiles. A lawyer.

“Well, Mr. Lawyer, your total is 10.75.” He pulls out a twenty and when you hand him change, he asks, “Which one is the five?” and you wordlessly pull out the five from the stack you handed him, before he puts the rest of the change in his wallet, dropping a five and a small card into your tip jar. “You have a good day now.” He hums, before making his way out of the bakery.

You watch intently, maybe a little too intently, and you hear the voice of your best friend from your teenage years in your head saying, ‘You hate to see him go, but you love to watch him leave.’ And a small smile finds its way to your face.

Then, you notice the card he dropped in the jar before fishing it out. On the front, it reads,

‘Matthew M. Murdock, Attorney at Law.’ On the back, you read,

‘Nelson, Murdock & Page, Attorneys at Law,

Hell’s Kitchen’

Accompanied by this is a phone number and an address.

You pocket the card, and before you know it, costumers are flooding in, and you ease into the day, forgetting about the handsome stranger until you leave the bakery at around six o’clock that night. You finish cleaning up from the day before letting the woman who works to prep for the next day. Then you leave, heading home to the too quiet, too small apartment.

You don’t have much in your apartment. You sleep with a gun under your pillow and you have a cheap TV on your dresser. You spend most of your time catching up on books or movies. You make yourself box mac and cheese before eating it right out of the pot, sitting on your kitchen floor.

As you cook the mac and cheese, you say his name over and over again, letting it sit on your tongue and escape your lips, thinking about him intently. You glance at your watch and decide that maybe it’s early enough that he might still be at his office.

You fish your tiny flip phone out of your pocket, dialing the number on the card and waiting. You’re holding your breath as the phone rings. A thought runs through your brain that maybe he gave you a wrong number and then your brain immediately reminds you that no man is ever going to give you his card, printed out, just to fuck with you.

“Nelson, Murdock & Page, how can I help you?” A voice asks, and you blink, hesitating for a minute.

“Uh, I’m looking for Matthew.” You say, and there’s some light shuffling, and again, this regret shoots over you until you hear a very smooth, very familiar voice,

“Hey,” His voice is like honey and you long to hear it clearer—The first time you’ve desired a better phone. “I was hoping you’d call.”

“Yeah, well, Maybe I just like the sound of your voice.”

“You know usually, that’s my line.”

“Wait, that works on people?” You hear his laugh on the other side of the phone and a shiver runs down your spine as you itch to make him laugh more.

“Telling people they’re beautiful doesn’t hit the same when you’re blind.”

“I guess not..” There’s a silence on his end of the phone, before he says,

“I never got your name.” For a moment, you consider giving him a fake name, but you find yourself giving him your name, the one that your parents gave you all those years ago. It’s foreign on your lips, a rare gem that you do not often give out. He repeats it and you swear you could almost die right then and there. “What are you doing tonight?” 

You’re taken back by his forwardness, not anticipating that maybe this handsome stranger, Matthew, wants to be around you just as bad as you want to be around him. And then you look around at your dingy apartment, with your boxy TV, the gun under your pillow, and you, sitting on the floor of your kitchen, having just finished eating box mac and cheese with a wooden spoon that just for a second tastes like the one your mother used to cook with, the one you’d get tastes of sauces, soups, anything you could get your hands on.

And then you remember everything that happened after those days sneaking tastes of your mom’s cooking and you feel guilty for pursuing handsome Matthew, because he has no idea what he is getting into.

“Just finished dinner. Was planning on just relaxing.” Reading until around midnight and then getting an hour or two of sleep.

“Well, how about we go do something?” You detect a bit of hopefulness in his voice. You find yourself asking before you can stop yourself,

“Like, like a date?” And he laughs again.

“Yes, like a date.”

“I don’t know,” You start, “Usually I have to ask my father’s permission before I go out on the town with a boy.” You want to slap your hand over your mouth because you sound your age. Oh god.

“Really?”

“..No.” You hope he finds your weird, totally not a cover up, joke funny. And he laughs again, telling you,

“You’re funny.”

Yeah, really fucking hilarious.

“So, a date?”

“A date.” You consider this for a moment. A date might lead somewhere real. Somewhere dangerous. Somewhere you haven’t been in.. years. Years might be an understatement. Your heart thuds against your chest, and you find yourself full of that nostalgic thing you call desire.

“What would we do?”

“Anything you want.” He tells you.

“Anything? That’s dangerous.” Because this whole thing is dangerous, you want to tell him, maybe you should mention the whole age thing, the whole assassin thing, the whole brainwashing thing, the whole thing.

“Yeah? What dangerous things do you have in mind, doll?” You have to hold the phone away from your ear to breathe, because it feels like someone just took the winds out of your sails. Suddenly it is 1940 something and a boy is flirting with you, and you have to act like a lady in hopes that he will treat you right.

Odd thing to think about today, but you’re an odd person.

“What about ice cream and a bookstore?” You ask, and for a moment you want to hit yourself for not suggesting something cool like a club or something and then you realize that you have no idea what counts as a cool date in this day and age.

Did you know when you were a teenager and had the world at your fingertips, eighty (give or take) years ago?

But to your surprise, handsome Matthew just responds,

“That sounds nice. Do you want me to pick you up at your apartment?”

The idea of handsome Matthew being at your tiny apartment that is not suitable for a date makes your heart race.

“I’ll meet you at the ice cream place in an hour. You know the one near the bakery?”

“Yeah. See you then.”

“Yeah. See you.” And when you hang up, you realize just what has happened. For the first time since 1944, You have landed yourself a date with a handsome man that is genuinely interested in you and in your infinite wisdom decided that ice cream and books were the best way to impress him.. Books.. Blind man.

You lightly bang your head against the counter behind you, muttering to yourself how stupid that was. But you an only dwell on it for a moment before you are standing up and making your way over to your room to get ready.

You’re still in your work uniform. And you look like an idiot. So, you clean yourself up and pull on something presentable, something comfortable. There is no confusion as to the nature of this meet up, you two are going on a date and you asked a blind man to go to a bookstore. You feel like an asshole. And you’re aware that you’re putting emphasis on that, but still!

You go through outfits and outfits, trying to figure out what an appropriate outfit is for this first date. You end up in something casual, and you hope you’re not underdressed. Honestly, you know you’re making a fuss over something as standard as a date, but you are genuinely desperate to have this go well.

You finally decide on an outfit and make your way out the door, grabbing your jacket and stepping out of the apartment. You stop outside of your door before turning around and going back into your room to change your top.

But eventually, you do get to the ice cream place Matt and you had discussed on the phone. And there he is, in all his glory, wearing the same outfit he wore when you saw him in the bakery that morning, only, without his tie, and he looks more disheveled. Somehow it’s more charming to see him like this, more exhilarating to imagine a life with such a low stakes man (You’ll look back on this thought later and laugh)

“Hi,” You greet, and Matt smiles in your direction.

“Hi.” He hums, and again, you feel nervous! So, before he can say much else, you blurt out,

“So, This is my first date in a while.. So. Sorry about that.” You say awkwardly.

“A while?” He asks, tilting his head like a curious dog. You’re struck by the fact that he is around 70 years younger than you. “Like, a few months?”

A beat.

Handsome Matthew is much busier than you are, it seems.

“More like a couple of years.” And by ‘a couple’ you mean eighty some odd years, but Matt doesn’t need to know all of that right now. But he just hums and nods, before answering,

“That’s alright, I’ll be gentle.” Your face flushes, and with a nervous laugh, you ask,

“You mean we’ll take it slow?”

“Sure. Whatever. We’ll figure out the details of it all later.” His hand finds yours, and before you can protest he pulls you into the ice cream shop. Handsome Matthew orders chocolate chip cookie dough because he is perfect in every way, and you order..

“Butter pecan, please.” You get odd glances from Matthew and the seventeen year old minimum wage worker behind the counter, but neither of them say anything. You manage to beat Matthew to paying for the ice cream, and as you walk, he asks,

“Butter pecan? Really?” And you roll your eyes. Young people today, always judging.

“You’re lucky they didn’t have butterscotch, that’s my real favorite.” You respond, before taking a lick of the ice cream. Your handsome date, gives you another bizarre look.

“Okay, what’s your third favorite ice cream flavor?”

“Mm..” You take a few minutes to think about it, before deciding on your answer. “A tie between pistachio and coffee.” And at your answer, Matt laughs at you. You let out an offended gasp, although you’re not being serious, before asking, “what’s so horrible about that?”

“You have the ice cream preferences of an eighty year old,” He laughs and you laugh too, because oh, if only he knew.

“Sorry, my pallet is straight from the 40’s.” It’s a joke. That’s a joke. Not at all based in facts or actuality. You continue working through eating your ice cream and talking to your handsome date. “So, does the handsome lawyer have any family I should know about?”

“You think I’m handsome?” He grins, and your face flushes.

“Answer the question.”

“No siblings. My dad died when I was young and It’s only recently that I’ve been talking to my mother.” Interesting, you think, and then this dawning realization happens where you realize that the next thing out of his mouth will be the inevitable question, “How about your family?”

You consider lying but you decide against it. If this is going to lead anywhere good, you don’t want to base it off lies.

“Not much to say. I’m the sole survivor.” You shrug, keeping it vague. He frowns a bit before squeezing your hand.

“A couple of orphans, huh?”

You squeeze his back.

“Seems like it.”

You kind of aren’t over the death of your parents and your siblings and quite literally everyone you knew as a teenager and young adult—You’re not over so many fucking things that if you went through it all, you’d probably keep poor Handsome Matthew up all night.

But instead of talking about that, Matt finds himself walking with you to the bookstore. You hold the door open for him and begin to wander. You quickly move past the books on World War II, as if faced with an ex you want nothing to do with them.

You begin to look at the romance books, scrunching your nose at how cheesy and surface level so many of these young adult novels are. But then you remind yourself that you are a hundred years old. But you look like you’re in your late twenties, early thirties. As you’re looking at the books, Matthew makes his way to the aisle next to yours, and talks to you through the stacks.

“So, what’s your favorite book?”

“That’s like asking a mother her favorite child.” You answer quickly, and you hear him laugh. Your face flushes.

“Try for me.”

“Uh, I really love Great Gatsby. I’m kind of fascinated with the zombie genre, too, it’s sort of new and interesting, and uh, oh, I read this Neil Gaiman novel, uh, Stardust? I really liked that.” You confess. Matt listens as you fumble through novels, both of you making your way towards the end of the aisle.

“And movies?”

“Why is everything about me? I didn’t hear your favorite novel.”

“The Outsiders.” He responds, and you make a mental note to try and find it in the bookstore. “So, movies?”

You’ve had autonomy for around three years now, so.. Your movie knowledge has been kind of stunted, so you wrack your brain to try and come up with something impressive.

“I really like the Indiana Jones series, uh, oh, The Matrix, and..” You ponder your brain. “Oh! And King Kong!” You saw that one in the theatres for your thirteenth birthday.

“Like, the one that came out in 2017?” He asks, and again, you consider lying, because you actually have seen that one because when you looked up ‘King Kong’ it came out, and it really blew your mind how far CGI had come.

“No, the one that came out in ’33.” As if it is the most normal thing in the entire world.

“One of your favorite movies is one from 1933?” And the old woman in you wants to insist that you loved the decades you grew up in, and that seeing King Kong in the theatres was a marvelous thing because you could barely afford rent. And then you remember you shouldn’t reveal your history with the Great Depression to a man you’re on your first date with.

“Yup.” You assert, and ask, “You?”

“Star Wars, any of them, and the Princess Bride.” Again, you make a note to add it to your list.

“Interesting.” You hum, and you find The Outsiders, wanting to read it, to consume it, to consume him, and every thought he has. The two of you meet at the end of the aisle, too close to be platonic as his hands come to find your arms, and you shudder at the affection.

“Touch starved, huh?” He grins. You flush and roll your eyes.

“You’re so mean.” You huff, and he laughs. His hand moves up your arms and cups your jaw, enjoying the feeling of your warm cheeks.

“Well, you’re odd.”

“Odd?”

“Everything about you. Your movie tastes, your jokes, your ice cream flavors.” He hums, with a soft shrug. “It’s not a bad thing, I’m just.. Trying to figure you out.”

“You’d be the first to accomplish such a feat.”

He laughs at that, and he’s so beautiful.. That you cannot help yourself when you lean up and gently press a soft kiss to those beautiful pretty pink lips that had caught your attention that morning. He kisses you back, without hesitation.

You feel at peace for the first time in years, as if everything you had gone through, every moment of torture and pain, has been worth it because it leads you to this. To Handsome Matthew, who kisses you so tenderly that no matter how simple it is, you are left breathless and desperate for more. You lean into him, deepening the kiss, pushing him back a bit, his back pressed against the stacks. The book in your hands is crumpled, and eventually, Matthew pulls away, before pushing you back a bit.

“Easy,” He says breathlessly, and you need the reminder, because you try to catch your breath. Holy shit. “Easy, easy..” he repeats, his hands rubbing up and down your arms a bit. “I’ve got you, just breath.” He laughs, and you lean your forehead against your shoulder. Fuck.

“When can I see you again?” Is your only thought, and he chuckles gently.

“Whenever you want.” He promises, and you nod, before leaning up to kiss him again.

One day you’ll tell him everything. You’ll tell him all of the horrible things you’ve done and have had done to you, and you’ll tell him why the nightmares came, and why they won’t ever go away. One day, you’ll tell handsome Matthew why you sleep with a gun under your pillow and why you have no family and why you are so odd.

For now, you decide that you deserve a few nice things.

And when he kisses back, you realize that maybe he is just as infatuated with you as you are with him. Maybe. Maybe he is full of secrets and his own horrors that plague him while he sleeps, and maybe that’s the unspoken reason you are so deeply fascinated with one another.

Maybe.

Maybe you’ve spent the past ninety years going from fight to fight, to nightmare to nightmare. Maybe you’re owed some time in the sun with Handsome Matthew.

Maybe.

[carpkoinobori]

[❣︎] casual — huh yunjin x reader

[𖤐] 0.5/3 [next] [please be aware this is all fiction! none of this is real and idols behavior is not accurately represented.]

song(s): casual - chappel roan | runaway runaway - mars argo | HOT TO GO - chappel roan |

summary: you and your best friend made it to produce 48 together— what led up to the fallout? who is it you’re singing about? what do you do when the stress boils over?

pairing(s): trainee!huh yunjin x trainee!fem!reader

tags: angst, imagined unrequited love, eventual happy ending

wc: 1.1k

cw: implied sexual content, internalized homophobia, period typical homophobia, mentions of dieting.

ex: 135 notes.. thank you all so much!! i didn’t expect anyone to really like it. i hope you enjoy this backstory :-)

also, this is an au, not following real events— y/n and yunjin are 18 and 19 in produce48, yunjin debuts three years later at 22, and y/n at 21.

(not beta read 😭)

you didn’t expect a survival show to be so stressful- now, you were well aware how difficult it’d be, you knew you would have to practice, and sing, and dance, and diet- but, you didn’t expect the constant stress of the possibility of being eliminated every day.

but, you chose this, right? all for her, all for your sun.

“y/n! Come on, let’s practice this final part, yeah? I think I figured out the footwork-“ yunjin mumbled, rambling about something or other. you were distracted by her face, she was soo pretty-

“y/n, are you even listening to me?” she said, grinning. your face turned a pretty shade of red, and you spluttered. “What? No, no! I was totally paying attention, I swear— something about.. footwork?” You guessed, desperately.

“it’s fine, just, come here- I’ll teach you,” she smiled, and it took all you had to not just fall right there.

after one particularly harsh judge had humiliated yunjin, she slammed the door of the room you shared with about two other contestants. they weren’t there, at the moment.

yunjin angrily began to rummage through her things, and you sat up. “jen? What’s wrong? I mean, I know what the judge said was mean but- you know that’s not true, right?” you began, getting up and starting to walk over to her before she whipped her head around, glaring at you.

“It IS fucking true, y/n, just because they always let you fuck up ‘cause the fans love you doesn’t mean you’re suddenly qualified to give advice-” she spat, standing up from her spot on the floor, her fists clenched as she jabbed her finger into your chest harshly. “You probably think you’re so much better than me, don’t you? I bet-” you cut her off, cupping her face in your hands. “jen- jen, I don’t think that, and you do not get to talk to me like that just because you’re mad,” you began, words steady and stern, and when you watched your best friends eyes glaze over, a bit, felt her gaze flicker down to your lips, felt your face flush and felt her lean in—

well, it was all you could do to tug her closer, kissing her, tasting the stupid citrus lip balm she’s used for years, that you’ve thought about every single day of your waking life—

and if someone asked, was it all worth it? the pain, the exhaustion, the work, just for this?

“well,” you’d reply, “oranges were always my favorite fruit.”

you cupped her face with one hand, threading your fingers in her hair with the other, pushing her onto your bed, and it was all teeth, you biting her lip, you moving your hands down, her speaking incoherently.

“please,” she’d breathe out, the words just whispers on the wind. and you’d always been the one under her mercy, begging her to love you- and now here she was, begging for you to touch her. you’d always dreamed of touching the sun. you’d always think of Icarus, in these moments. your wings were yet to melt from the heat and warmth, though, so you figured it was fine.

and, well, the fall would hurt, but it was all you could do, to fall into eachother, again, and again.

waking up was always worse. your dorm mates still weren’t back, they had a penchant to pass out in the practice room. you kinda thanked them, for that.

sometimes you’d wake up in the middle of the night, just so you could see her sleeping. just so you could see her before she would leave in the morning.

yeah, you lived together, but come 8 in the morning, she’d be gone. except for the first time. except for before you fell asleep.

“..y/n?” she asked quietly, voice barely above a whisper.

“mhm?” you hummed, half asleep in your bed.

“this didn’t mean anything, right? im not mad at you, im sorry. i was just stressed, and frustrated- and- we can still be friends, right? it won’t change?” she whispered, and it was the only time you’ve ever seen her this nervous around you. the first time she had really been vulnerable since you both got on this stupid show.

what changed? was it the having to compete against each other? yeah. it was probably that.

“yeah,” you mumbled, feeling your chest constrict, your heart fracture, tears stinging your eyes, and you were so glad she couldn’t see your face. “yeah, jen- it’s casual. we’re still best friends,” you reassured, giving a smile that didn’t reach your eyes. why were you smiling, anyway? she couldn’t see you. she’s never seen you. “okay, y/n. good night. i love you,” she mumbled, turning to the wall.

“goodnight, jen. i love you,” you whispered, turning your back to her, and staring at the empty bed across the room. wasn’t it poetic that she was in your bed, and you’d never be in hers? you laughed inwardly, no humor in it. you were so, so bitter.

this stupid game kept up, you kept giving in to it, and you kept losing- atleast it gave you writing material, right?

“y/n,” your dorm mate- chaewon, you think? “you should stop,” she murmured. you stared at her through tired eyes. “stop what?” you said, playing dumb. “you know. I think- I think it’s.. it’s not good for you,” she mumbled, uncomfortable. “I appreciate it, but I’m fine,” you assured, giving a well-practiced smile. “Thanks for caring,” you nodded, slipping out of the chair you’ve been sitting in for an hour and a half— instead of sleeping, you’d either be with your “best friend”, or writing about her- god, you were such a lovesick fool. Crumpled paper took up the majority of your desk, and you left it all splayed out, in front of Chaewon, slipping away to go practice till you dropped. The trainee life, you’d think.

“you said/ we’re not together/so now when we kiss/ I have anger issues,”

chaewon stared at the paper, vaguely. she couldn’t read english, obviously, and was half tempted to put it in a translator, but she just turned around, leaving the room as well to go practice.

“and I try to be the chill girl/that holds her tongue and gives you space/i try to be the chill girl/but honestly/im not,”

and then she got eliminated. and you broke down. and you lived in that practice room. and your roommates would stare at you in pity, and you hated it, you hated being something pitiable.

you hated loving your best friend. your fall hurt like hell, your stupid wax wings broke. you didn’t fall into her, no— you fell into the sea, cold, salty, rough— you hated the cold. but maybe you’d get used to it.

hundreds of texts unsent:

“jen, I love you,” [delete]

“jen, I miss you,” [delete]

“jen, did you love me? do you miss me?” [delete]

“I’m so sorry,” [sent]

“are you okay?” [sent]

“will it be okay?” [delete]

“will you catch me?” [delete]

“why won’t you talk to me?” [sent]

[reply] “I need some space,”

[reply] “I can’t take the reminder,”

“okay, I’m sorry. I love you,” [sent]

[you can not reply to this conversation. message unable to send]

and nearly 7000 miles away, there is a girl crying in New York City. because she loves her best friend. and her best friend said she didn’t mean it.

and nearly 7000 miles back, there is a girl crying in Seoul, because she loves her best friend. and her best friend (will) not love her back.

hi! backstory to good luck babe. i hope you all enjoy this, I wasn’t expecting so many notes on the last post… thank you all for reading! please feel free to send anons or reqs or just tell me about your day.. hope your day is great! :3

[nataliesfirefly]

You and I Walk a Fragile Line - Farleigh Start x F!Reader - Part 4

a/n: hey everyone! i know it's been a while but the next part is finally here! not sure how many parts i want this to be bc i dont want to fill up the tag, still waiting to make an ao3 account haha- but anyways im getting a taglist started just of people who have shown interest in this series, if i put you on it and you don't want to be on it just let me know. and ofc if u want to be on it lmk! i also made a playlist if anyone wants to check that out :))

playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/60Kll9HCoQru14J18bT21C

series masterlist

word count: 3.9k

warnings: language, suggestive stuff?, alcohol, smoking, emetophobia

Things are extremely awkward with Felix. He’s too nice to kick you out of Saltburn, yet he’s too prideful to apologize, so you two are stuck dancing around each other with small talk and short interactions.

Things with Farleigh, on the other hand, are surprisingly good. You never would have expected how close you two became in the past few days. In fact, you can’t remember the last time he insulted you, at least not in a playful way. You must have bonded over your shared dislike for Felix at the moment.

But for some reason, you worry if you get too close, he might push you away.

Tonight was dinner with all of Sir James’s friends, and as the Cattons tend to call them, the Henry’s. The actual dinner was full of awkward conversations with people much older than you about the future of your life and what you were going to do after graduating college. You actually had no idea what your plan was or what you wanted to do with your life. You used to push all the questions away and blamed it on the fact that graduation was pretty far away. It only recently dawned on you that you would be graduating in about two years. 

After dinner, you sit in the dimly lit living room with Farleigh on the couch as everyone else participates in karaoke. You and Farleigh snicker at some of the guests’ performances, whispering things to each other as if you are judges of some competition.

Eventually, Farleigh sighs and stands to his feet. “I’m going to go smoke,” He tells you, putting his hands in his pockets. He turns and looks at you expectantly. You take it as his way of asking you to come with him, so you stand up and snatch the bottle of wine you were drinking off the coffee table.

You follow him up the stairs, down the long, dark hall and eventually into his bedroom. He shuts the door behind you and draws out the pack of cigarettes from his pocket and lights one. “At least open the window,” You walk over to the window and open it to let the smoke out.

“Oh, right. Cause you hate the smell so much.” He rolls his eyes at you as he exhales some smoke. “Weren’t you the one that asked me for one of these the other day?” He points the cigarette at you and you glance down shamefully.

“Yeah. I wasn’t at my best, okay?” You shake your head and slump down to the floor, leaning against the wall and stretching your legs out.

“Okay, sure, miss goody two shoes.” He chuckles and sits down next to you. You take a swig from the wine bottle and sigh, leaning your head back.

“So, Felix…” Farleigh trails off and looks over to you. You continue staring up at the ceiling. “Can we not talk about Felix right now,” You reply, closing your eyes. “We need to,” He says, nudging you.

“What is there to talk about?” You ask, turning to meet Farleigh’s gaze. He presses the cigarette to his lips and inhales. “You said it yourself, that he only hangs out with me out of pity.” 

As he breathes out, the smoke passes over your face but you don’t care. “And what’s your problem with him? It seems like you’ve been waiting for someone to turn on him so you could join in,” You continue, and his eyes tell you that you’ve just read him like a book.

He quickly recovers and remains expressionless. “You’re projecting,” Farleigh responds. “Then why have you been so nice to me?” You ask.

The room goes silent and you are stuck in a moment where time doesn’t pass, it’s just you and Farleigh. His usual cold and dark gaze is replaced by something softer, warmer. Something in the air shifts and you can feel some kind of tension rising.

But then he looks away, breaking eye contact. “Because Felix is just stupid sometimes,” He finally replies, nodding toward the bottle of wine you are holding. You hand it to him and your fingers brush against his.

He takes a drink. “I don’t think he ever had bad intentions. He’s just an idiot,” You consider this. Maybe he’s just extremely out of touch with reality like the rest of the Cattons.

There’s a pause as you think of something to change the subject to.

“So… How about that Sadie girl?” You ask, turning to him with a grin. He gives the wine back to you and you take a quick swig.

Elspeth is, for some reason, attempting to set Farleigh up with a daughter of one of James’s friends. Her name is Sadie, and she is very pretentious and fake, from what you can tell. You hadn’t spoken to her, but you watched from afar as she and Farleigh engaged in a conversation.

“She’s alright,” He shrugs and stands up to press the cigarette out on his ashtray. He sits back down next to you and sighs.

“She was like, hardcore flirting with you,” You chuckle and observe his exasperated expression. “Oh, I know.” He smirks smugly and you roll your eyes.

“That’s weird, usually you hook up with someone the moment they show interest in you,” You smile at the way he frowns slightly. “That’s not true,” He furrows his eyebrows and glances at you. “Okayyy,” You say sarcastically.

A while later, you are still upstairs with Farleigh, but you are now feeling the effects of all the alcohol you’ve consumed. You both had gone downstairs to steal more booze, and you ended up drinking almost all of it. Your whole body feels tingly and warm, and your brain is fuzzy.

You run a hand through your tousled hair and sigh, turning to check if Farleigh is as wasted as you. He seems slightly better off than you, but his dark eyes are half lidded and glossy.

“Do you ever miss Sasha?” He glances at you, seeming surprised at your random question. Sasha is Farleigh’s ex from Oxford, who he had endured a tumultuous and rollercoaster ride of a relationship with. You had met her once or twice, she seemed kind, but slightly possessive.

“Sasha?” Farleigh repeats her name and takes a moment to process it. It seems like memories are returning to him and replaying in his head.

“Sometimes. But not really. She was crazy,” He raised his eyebrows and stared straight ahead. “You guys broke up and got back together, like, ten times,” You giggle foolishly and he turns to look at you, slightly offended by your amusement.

“It was too hard to keep up with,” You sigh after your laughter subsides. 

“I didn’t know you were keeping up,” You make eye contact once again with Farleigh, and this time his gaze is more intense. You can’t tell if it’s one of his usual sarcastic comments or if there was an underlying meaning behind his tone. Your face burns red with the realization that you had been studying his relationship so closely. But, really, everyone in your friend group knew about Sasha and Farleigh’s dumpsterfire of a romance. Break up, random hook ups, they said they love each other, then they argued again.

“It’s just.. what friends do,” You reply, your speech slurred. “Friends keep up with each other’s relationships.” You shrug and wave your hand as if to dismiss the seriousness of it.

“You consider me a friend?” Farleigh chuckles, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Well, what if I do?” Your voice comes out softer than you intended. 

There’s another long moment of silence and prolonged eye contact between you two. The tension is so thick, you can feel it in the air and your heart pounds. It’s almost like you are waiting for who will make the next move. Your brain is all muddled and you can’t seem to think clearly.

Your eyes flicker down to his plush lips and you can’t tell if it’s the alcohol or not, but your instinct is to kiss him. You grab him by the face, a hand on either cheek, and pull him in, smashing your lips together sloppily. You pull away, shocked at yourself, dropping your hands into your lap as your lips hover over his.

You expect him to be disgusted and stand up and walk away, but there’s a slight pause before he is grabbing you and pulling you back in, kissing you almost aggressively. Like he’s been starved, like there’s not enough of you.

You squeak with surprise before you melt into him, softening as one of his hands travels down to your neck and the other settles on your waist. You both have to gasp for air in between sloppy kisses, but you don’t mind. Your heart races and your hands travel up into his hair, running your hands through his unruly dark curls. You find that you’ve been waiting so long to do that, to feel his hair in your hands.

He bites your lower lip and your eyebrows pinch together. “Sorry,” He mumbles, although his voice disappears into your mouth. You feel yourself losing balance and beginning to fall back onto the floor.

Before you know it, he’s on top of you, refusing to stop kissing you. It’s messy and you know you’re both drunk, but damn does it feel good. The tension feels like it’s being lifted off of you, and it’s relieving. You don’t know how long it will last but hell, you’re enjoying it. Both of his hands have moved to your hips and his fingers are pressing into you.

You feel his lips move from yours, moving down from your jaw to your neck. He’s kissing and sucking on your skin so passionately that you know you will have bruises tomorrow. You moan quietly and you hear him groan in response, his low voice vibrating against your neck.

You attempt to catch your breath as you suddenly feel something in your stomach, something unpleasant. Saliva begins to build in your mouth and it’s like you have an internal clock telling you how much time you have left before you absolutely hurl.

“Far-Farleigh,” You place your hands on his shoulders. You whimper and slightly push up on him. He glances up from your neck, staring up at you in confusion. You can’t deny that you enjoy viewing him from this angle, but you have other concerns at the moment.

“Gonna throw up,” You manage to get out before he’s rolling off of you, allowing you to get up. You clamber to your feet and scramble into the connecting bathroom, barely making it to your knees in front of the toilet before you throw up. 

You grip both sides of the toilet for support as you practically spill your guts, coughing loudly. You would have liked some help or something from Farleigh, but it seems like he has just left you here to deal with it yourself.

You groan and wipe your mouth, sitting up and staring straight ahead in some sort of daze. You eventually come to your senses and stand up, flushing the toilet. You feel dizzy so you grab onto the counter of the sink to not lose balance, catching your reflection in the mirror.

Your hair is very messy, and your mascara is slightly smudged around your eyes. Your cheeks are warm and rosy, but in an unflattering way. You look like a wreck. 

When you walk back into his room, he’s gone. You sigh in frustration and press a hand to your aching and pounding forehead. Somehow, you stumble back to your room and flop onto your bed. You managed to avoid the small number of guests left in the house, along with Venetia and Felix. You just want to get some sleep after the shitshow that just happened. And you know you’ll be paying for it in the morning. 

2 YEARS EARLIER

You, Felix, and some of your other friends were gathered at the pub on a Friday night. There was chatter and the smell of cigarette smoke all around you. Felix returned from the bar and handed you a tall glass of beer.

You were focused on Farleigh and the girl who sat on his lap. Her hands were all over him, and he seemed totally enamored with her. She had a short skirt on and her wrists were covered in bracelets. She was pretty, you had to admit.

“Who’s that?” You asked, glancing up at Felix and pointing to the two. “Oh, that’s Sasha.” He replied. “She’s obsessed with Farleigh. And from what I can tell,” Felix sat down, pulling his chair closer to yours, “He’s liking it.”

You chuckled and took a sip of your beer. “Good for him,” You said, shrugging. “Bet they’ve already fucked,” Felix remarked and you snapped your head towards him. “Ew, Felix. That’s none of your business.” You made a disgusted expression.

“What? Everybody shags around here, it’s no surprise,” He shrugged nonchalantly. “Except you,” He added, grinning and nudging you. You rolled your eyes and looked back towards Sasha and Farleigh.

You didn’t want to imagine them… doing that. But for some reason, your mind kept trying to paint a picture of it. You shook your head to clear your thoughts. 

You didn’t know why, but for some reason, you felt jealousy bubbling up inside of you. Why was it so easy for her to get what she wanted? You had liked a few men at Oxford, but you didn’t really even want a boyfriend or a commitment like that.

But as you watched Farleigh and Sasha’s hands intertwine, you felt envious.

“Hey, Felix, who was that guy you were going to introduce me to?” You asked, tapping your fingers against the table. “What? Oh, Joshua? I thought you said you didn’t want to meet him,” He replied. Felix was trying to set you up with one of his friends who seemed like a player. At this point, you didn’t care. It was like you were trying to prove that you could actually get a guy. Prove to who, though?

“I know. I changed my mind,” You said decidedly. “Well, he’s actually here tonight. Would you like me to go grab him?” Felix stood up and pointed towards the other side of the pub. You nodded. “Sure,”

You waited patiently and took a few swigs of beer for confidence. A minute later, Felix returned with a man who was a few inches shorter than him, with fluffy blonde hair and hazel eyes. Freckles were dusted across his nose and his skin was nicely tanned due to the warmer weather of spring. He looked sweet and innocent, but the rumors you had heard about him told you otherwise.

“Hello,” He greeted you, holding out his hand. You stood up to shake his hand, smiling as you introduced yourself. “Nice to meet you, I’m Joshua.” He grinned brightly and Felix seemed amused by the interaction.

“Hi, Joshua.” You tried to make a good first impression, although you weren’t good at this stuff. But it seemed like he was already interested, looking you up and down.

You both sat back down and began small talk about classes and life and friends. Felix left you two alone, but you’re not sure where he went. It was good, talking to someone new, but still a bit uncomfortable since you were so introverted. The conversation flowed nicely between the both of you.

You couldn’t help but feel like someone was watching you. You glanced up, seeing Farleigh’s cold gaze drilling into yours, flicking back and forth between you and Joshua. It was like he was waiting to see who would break eye contact first, and of course, it was you. Your gaze faltered down to the table and then back up to Joshua.

“You alright, love?” He asked, placing a hand on your thigh. You nodded and your face turned a shade of pink with embarrassment. “Sorry. Just thinking,”

“Hey, what do you say when we go back to my dorm? To just chill, relax, you know.” He tilted his head and you could already tell what he was implying. “Uh- Sure, yeah. Let’s go,” You smiled and stood up, grabbing your bag and walking past him toward the doors. He placed a hand on your lower back as you stepped by him.

You woke up the next morning unsure of where you were before memories of the night before came back to you. You were in Joshua’s bed, tangled up in the sheets, with your clothes off and scattered on the floor.

Your eyes widened as you realized you had lost your virginity to Joshua Brown. You sat up and scratched your head, not sure what to do next.

“Oh my God…” You whispered, looking down at Joshua, who was sleeping on his stomach, his face pressed against the pillow. It didn’t look like he was waking up anytime soon.

You stood up and winced as you realized you were a bit sore. You tried to be as quiet as possible as you picked your clothes up off the floor, hurriedly putting them back on.

Joshua stirred in his sleep and groaned, rolling over. You grimaced as you took your bag off of his desk chair, tip toeing to the door and opening it slowly.

You sighed with relief once you had closed his door behind you and you were safely out in the hallway. You know you probably looked like a wreck, but your main goal at the moment was to get back to your own dorm going unnoticed.

You heard your name being called, fairly close to you. You froze before turning to identify where it came from, and you swear your heart dropped to your ass. Farleigh was standing in the doorway of his room, which was conveniently right next door to Joshua’s, smirking at your frazzled state.

“You should work on keeping it down. I couldn’t sleep last night because I kept hearing you and Joshua.” He chuckled and you could feel your face heating up.

“Sorry,” You muttered, casting your glance downwards to the floor. 

“You finally got some after all,” He teased. “Can you shut up?” You groaned, facepalming and shaking your head. “Oh, I will if you can figure out how to,” He raised his eyebrows. “Was it really that good?” He questioned.

You considered the question. You didn’t really know if it was or not, you were just trying to be loud because you thought guys liked that. Were you satisfied by the end? No. But Joshua certainly was.

He seemed to notice your puzzled expression and he nodded. “Oh. So the rumors are true about him.” You tilted your head with curiosity. “What rumors?” You asked.

“Oh, you poor thing.” He cooed sarcastically. You narrowed your eyes at him and crossed your arms. “Well, you’d better get back to your place so you can study,” Farleigh mocked. “Make up for that time you lost last night, huh?”

“Can you just not tell anyone? Please?” You knew it was useless asking him not to tell. He had the biggest mouth in the whole class. He just snickered at your pleading and stepped back into his room and shut his door.

That night you hung out with Joshua in his dorm once more, but you told him you didn’t want to have sex again. He respected your decision, so you were just drinking some alcohol with him and making out occasionally.

“Yeah, I don’t really know what I’m going to do with an English degree. I just had to pick something.” He shrugged. You were talking about your futures after Oxford and what you were both majoring in.

“Hm. Well, there’s a lot you could do,” You replied, trying to reassure him, although you weren’t too sure yourself. “You could be-” Your sentence is cut short by a loud moan coming from the room next to you.

“Ah, shit. It’s Farleigh and Sasha again,” Joshua shook his head like it was a regular occurence. “They’re usually at it for a while,” He informed you. “Do you want to go somewhere else?”

Some odd, depraved part of you wanted to stay and listen. “No, that’s alright.” You shrugged. “Surely it can’t be that bad.”

The walls seemed paper thin. You swear you could hear every little noise, like the bed springs squeaking and the wanton sounds that came from Sasha. But then you heard something different. It was Farleigh, whimpering and moaning in a way that you couldn’t even believe what you were hearing. You didn’t know men could make sounds other than grunting during sex, let alone sounds like that.

“Oh fuck,” You heard him breathe heavily and Sasha was practically screaming at this point. 

“Damn. They’re really getting into it,” You whistled and raised your eyebrows. Joshua nodded. “I wish I was as good as people say he is,” Joshua looked down. “What?” You asked as you tried to ignore the continuous noises. He was really telling you to be quieter earlier today?

“Farleigh. People say he’s really good in bed,” Joshua explained. You were surprised that he was okay with discussing this with you. “Oh.” You chuckled nervously. You didn’t expect that, but for some reason it made sense. “Was I bad?” Joshua asked suddenly.

You froze at his question and wondered if you should tell him the truth. “I mean… I don’t really… know the difference, you know? It was my first time, remember?” You told him. He nodded but you could tell he seemed hurt and defeated.

“Right,” He awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck and you leaned back in your chair. You could say this was one of the most embarrassing moments of your life, having to listen to Farleigh fuck some girl while having an awkward conversation with the man you had a one night stand with.

The next day around noon, you were walking to a café near campus when you saw Farleigh walking ahead of you on the sidewalk of the cobblestone streets.

An idea popped into your head and you smiled mischievously, jogging to catch up with him. When you appeared at his side, he glanced down and made a face.

“Are you following me?” He asked, glaring at you as you fell into step next to him. “No. I just had a complaint,” You tried to hide the smile threatening your face. “What’s that?” He quirked an eyebrow.

“Me and Joshua were trying to have a nice conversation last night,” You started, and his playful expression immediately dropped. “Maybe try to keep it down next time, right?” You grinned and he stopped in his tracks.

“You were there last night?” He seemed annoyed and a little bit shocked. “Yeah.” You nodded and stopped next to him. “I mean, I couldn’t even hear my own thoughts,” You laughed to yourself and he narrowed his dark eyes at you.

“And it wasn’t even Sasha as much as it was you–” “Keep your mouth shut,” He ordered, and you knew you got a rise out of him. “Practice what you preach, that’s all I’m saying,” You waved and skipped along the sidewalk, leaving him standing there in shock.

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[ladykailitha]

Around the World Part 6

Hello! And welcome to another chapter of this very underrated fic. Thank you to everyone who has given it love in the way of comments, reblogs/tags, and likes.

It's London calling! And we meet a Murray Bauman in the wild. Eddie and Steve get a little introspective and Steve does something rash.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

~

Their trip through the haunting and beautiful Ireland was amazing. So many tales and history. This is why Steve wanted to do more than just America like Eddie had originally wanted, because America just didn’t have the history Europe and other places did. Not unless you wanted to disturb actual First Nation people and that was something he wanted to avoid at all cost, thank you.

They were on the ferry from Northern Ireland to Scotland and Steve was looking out over his shoulder at the water as he leaned against the guardrail. He tilted his head back and closed his eyes, allowing the wind to blow through his hair.

Eddie slid his arm around him and Steve laid his head on his shoulder.

Today Eddie had his beard and faux-dreadlocks in a light blue button up shirt and cream colored wide-legged pants. His chunky sunglasses covered the his face.

“You know,” Eddie murmured, “until we reached this leg of our journey and you started to disguise me, I didn’t realize how much I missed just being Eddie Munson, regular guy. I can really see the appeal of you and friends’ way of doing it.”

“Yeah,” Steve said softly. “Of course it means that we can’t go all out and buy everything we want, stay in fancy hotels, show up at restaurants without a reservation and get in. But I can go into my local grocery store and buy two tubs of mint ice cream because I felt like it.” He lifted his head to look Eddie in the eye. “Like some Karen would judge me, but it’s not going to go up on TMZ that I’m letting myself go.”

God, Eddie had had that happen more times than he cared to count. Like once Chrissy was on her period and he went to go get her chocolate, Ben and Jerry’s, and pads. Before he even got to his car it was all over the internet that he was letting himself go, just because it was 2am and his best friend needed something to help her feel better.

“You think you’ll ever come out?” he asked, pulling Steve in closer.

It was a familiar and well-worn topic of theirs; whether or not Steve would ever come out as bisexual at least.

He ducked his head and looked away. He didn’t know. He didn’t like hiding parts of himself for those he loved. He would like to tell people this is the love of my life.

“Would you leave me if I said no?” he mumbled, not daring to look up.

Eddie placed his finger under Steve’s chin and lifted his head gently. “Of course not, Stevie. There are literal actors who have been married for years and no one knows. It’s just between them. We could do that too. Just a quiet ceremony, Robin and Chrissy as the witnesses, and a justice of the peace.”

Steve let out a weak sort of watery laugh and shook his head. “I want all our friends there, famous and otherwise. I want a full tilt party with music playing into the early hours of the morning. I want fancy tuxes and flowers galore. I know I might not get that, the absolute coward that I am. But if I marry you, it be to scream from the rooftops that I love you.”

Eddie bumped their shoulders together. “Softy.” Steve blushed. “Besides there is nothing in the world that says we can’t have it both ways. Have a quiet little ‘just us’ and then go full tilt when you come out. You don’t even have to tell anyone. Just a little comfort that I’m not going anywhere.”

Steve pressed a gentle kiss to Eddie’s cheek. “I’ll think about it.”

Eddie kissed him deeply and then tucked his head under his chin and they stayed like that until the ferry docked in Scotland.

~

God, Scotland and England were beautiful countries Eddie decided as he watched the rolling green hills from his train window. That was another thing he really liked about Europe in general, just all the different ways to travel that weren’t a car.

He looked over at Steve who had his glasses on and reading a book. He smiled at the title. His boyfriend wasn’t a fantasy fan or science fiction either, really, but put a clever mystery in his hands and you would have to pry to the book from his cold, dead fingers.

He glanced over at Chrissy and Robin who were playing Go Fish! They had asked him if he wanted to join them, but he passed. He rarely got time to just relax and watch the scenery go by when he was on tour. He was always doing something related to the band. Writing music, practicing, talking about the next venue, interview, or TV spot.

Him and his friends had fun, because of course they did. But it was nice to just let his mind wander. Currently he was sad that they were going to have to miss Wales this time. He really wanted to buy some Welsh gold jewelry. It’s super rare and absolutely gorgeous.

Maybe he would have to come back later and get something special for Steve. Just something simple like matching bands even if it wasn’t on the left hand. Or necklaces. Just something simple to prove they were it for each other.

“I made an appointment with a well-known tattoo artist in London,” Steve said nonchalant, but like he was reading Eddie’s thoughts.

Everyone stopped what they were doing and turned to Steve. Robin nearly giving herself whiplash in her speed.

“As your friend, manager, and platonic soulmate,” she said darkly, “I advise against that. You can cover it up but someone, somewhere will see it.”

Steve looked up from his book and leveled her with his best bitchy glare. “Not if it’s on my ass.”

Chrissy and Eddie’s eyebrows shot up and they shared a shocked glance. Eddie always loved tattoos, he had a couple of stick and poke style ones from when he was young and stupid and couldn’t afford to pay for an artist to do the job, but there was one place, well technically two if you included his dick, which he absolutely did, that he refused to get a tattoo on and that was his ass. Not being able to sit down properly for what would probably be weeks was not his idea of a good time.

“Not really, though, right?” Chrissy asked with a grimace.

Steve took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Of course not really. Sheesh, you guys. But I hid fucking hickies from the both of you for a year and you never noticed, so I’m pretty sure I can hide one fucking tattoo.”

Robin and Chrissy shared their little ‘manager’ glance and Chrissy folded first.

“You’re right, Steve,” she said calmly. “Not once did you forget or slip up and you should be applauded for that. But is there a reason you’re deciding to get a tattoo now instead of waiting until we’re back in the States and you can use Eddie’s personal artist?”

He looked over at Robin and their little telepathy thing went off again and this time Robin folded first.

“It’s for Eddie,” she murmured. “They can’t be out as a couple and with Steve being the romantic that he is, wouldn’t want to get married without all his friends there, so this is his way of telling Eddie he isn’t going anywhere either.”

Eddie blinked for a moment. “Do you think they take walk-ins?”

“I booked it for both of us.” Steve smiled at him and took his hand. Eddie beamed back at him.

“They are so disgustingly cute,” Robin huffed, crossing her arms. “I bet Steve has this really sweet idea for a tattoo that even if people do notice it they won’t be able to tell the meaning but he and Eddie will know and be so sickeningly precious about it.”

Eddie gave him a huge kiss on the cheek. “I love my super clever boyfriend and can’t wait to see what this brilliant plan is.”

~

Steve’s brilliant plan was half of a white mask on Eddie’s inner wrist and half of guitar on Steve’s and when they held hands it formed almost heart.

The tattoo artist was really impressed with the idea and was more than happy to implement it. Steve walked out of there, completely smug as Chrissy pointed out. Deservedly so.

They were to stay in London for three days because of all the haunted places in London alone, there were so many worth visiting. They were going to start at Jack the Ripper tour and move onto the tour of London.

The tour they learned with deep dismay had accidentally been scheduled at 2pm and not 2am like Eddie had thought it said. It was so boring and their tour guide so dull, Eddie accidentally tripped of one of those concrete pillars they had in the middle of the sidewalk to prevent cars from driving up on it.

“Oof!” Eddie wheezed as he straightened up. “Why do they even put those things here?”

“Chrissy Cunningham,” a nasally voice said from behind them. “What are you doing in my neck of the woods?”

They all turned slowly to see a weaselly little bald man with thick horn-rimmed glass.

“Holy shit,” Chrissy said slowly. “Murray Bauman, as I live and breath. What the hell are you doing in London?”

He shrugged. “Eking out a living doing tours for bored tourists. When the biggest metal band in the world drops you, so does everyone else.”

Chrissy and Eddie shared a grimace. Corroded Coffin had deliberately did that to Nancy after the shit she pulled with Steve and trying to be The Fallen’s agent. But this one was a complete accident.

“Oh fuck off,” Robin said with a grin. “You love it. I can tell. You have actual notes written down, you have a map marked with all the spots the murders take place. I bet you have all the great stories.”

Murray flushed and cocked his head to the side. “I mean I didn’t want to brag. But yeah, certainly better than Molly over there.” He jutted his thumb at their tour guide. “Most of the good ones are from tour companies and then you get people like Molly who make it look legit online and trick people into taking day tours.”

“God, I was so bored,” Eddie huffed, shoving his hands into his pockets, “I felt jet lagged.”

Murray’s eyes instantly narrowed and cocked his head to the side and instantly everyone else tensed up. He took in their reactions and mimed zipping his mouth shut.

“I’ll tell you what,” he said, “if you’re still in town tomorrow, meet me here at 9pm and I’ll give you a proper tour.”

Chrissy licked her lips slowly. “Or what?”

“Huh?” He was confused for a moment before he smacked his forehead. “Oh! No, no. I’m not going to blackmail you. Holy shit. If people want to enjoy a vacation without all the publicity, good on them.” He looked Eddie up and down. “Looks good on you kid.”

Eddie was suddenly glad for the large sunglasses and beard because it hid the blush on his cheeks.

“No, I’m just saying,” Murray continued, “that if you wanted to experience a proper Jack the Ripper tour, I’m willing to do it. I don’t have a tour currently booked and beside I like her.” He pointed at Robin, who grinned back him.

The four them all shared glances at each other.

“I’m down,” Steve said with a shrug. “If you’re as good as you say you are and aren’t trying to actively ‘get back’ at Chrissy for taking your job, I know I’d be interested in seeing what Whitechapel has to offer after dark.”

“I like him too,” Murray said brightly, rubbing his hands together. “So what do the rest of you say?”

“Aye, aye, Captain!” Steve’s three menaces said together.

He just smiled fondly and shook his head.

~

Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

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2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence

3- @goodolefashionedloverboi @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @irregular-child @blondie1006

4- @yikes-a-bee @bookworm0690 @anne-bennett-cosplayer @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten

5- @genderless-spoon @y4r3luv @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt

6- @disrespectedgoatman @dawners @thespaceantwhowrites @tinyplanet95 @garden-of-gay

7- @iamthehybrid @croatoan-like-its-hot @papergrenade @cryptid-system @counting-dollars-counting-stars

8- @ravenfrog @w1ll0wtr33 @child-of-cthulhu @kultiras @dreamercec

9- @machete-inventory-manager @useless-nb-bisexual @stripey82 @dotdot-wierdlife @kal-ology

10- @sadisticaltarts @urkadop @chameleonhair @clockworkballerina

[therealcocoshady]

Recovery - Chapter 1

Eminem x Reader (Y/N) fanfiction

Summary : Y/N is getting sober and trying to rebuild her life after a hard breakup when she meets Marshall Mathers.

Tags : mention of SA ; Miscarriage ; Addiction

Author’s note : this is my first shot a my writing a fanfiction. Hope you enjoy it x

Chapter 1

- Thank you for having me, you said to Talia.

- No problem, baby. You stay as long as you need to, she answered while giving me a hug.

You looked around, taking everything in. In a matter of days, you had lost nearly everything. It all started when you woke up in the hospital, several tubes attached to your body.

FLASHBACK

Apparently, you had been in a coma for three days. Simon, your boyfriend of two years was sitting in a chair next to your bed.

- I can’t believe you did it again, Y/N.

- It’s not what you think, Simon.

- It is exactly what I think. You need help. You need to get yourself together. Next time you might not be so lucky. You might actually die, he said.

Dying. To be fair you hadn’t really tried to kill yourself. It was more complicated than that and Simon knew it.

- I’m sorry, you said, trying to hold his hand.

- No, he simply answered, taking his hand off yours.

He looked at you with a piercing gaze, not saying a word for what felt like forever. He didn’t need to, anyway. You already knew it was over.

- I love you, Y/N. I really do. But I can’t go on like this. You need to seek treatment, he said with tears in his eyes.

- I just wanted to sleep, you know, you tried to explain.

- By taking over 100 pills of Xanax ?! Are you fucking kidding me ? He asked, fire coming from his eyes.

- I…

Tears started rolling on your cheeks. As much as you knew you had done something terribly stupid, you wished he wouldn’t break up with you. You wished he would understand.

- Simon, don’t do this, you pleaded.

- I’m sorry, he simply said, getting up and grabbing his jacket. You have a problem and I cannot deal with it.

He walked towards the door and faced you for the last time.

- Your stuff will be packed when you get out of here.

And there it was. Shortly after moving in with your boyfriend, you were homeless.

END OF FLASHBACK

- Are you ok, Y/N ? Talia asked.

- Yeah. Sorry. I just… I can’t believe it’s over, you said. I really screwed up.

She gave you a big hug again.

- What’s done is done. Now you need to focus on getting better, she said.

- Thank you for being here for me. And allowing me to move in with you. And not judging me.

- What you need now is not judgement. It’s support. I am a bit mad though, she explained. I wish you had come clean to me about all those prescription pills.

- I thought I could manage, you tried to explain.

- Well you thought wrong.

Your best friend was being hard on you, and she had every right to be. For months, you had been lying through your teeth to everyone in your life. You had pretended that you were this happy-go-lucky girl who had it together. On the outside, you had everything : you were successful in your PhD research at university of Michigan, a loving boyfriend you had just moved in with and a tight-knit circle of friends who loved you unconditionally. But deep down, you had been unable to handle the pressure of your studies and, the hardest thing of all, you had lost your baby, going through a miscarriage at 13 weeks of pregnancy.

- You should rest before I take you to your meeting, Talia said. And then, we’ll go to the studio. Jamal invited us.

- Do we have to ? I think I’d rather come back here right after the meeting, you pleaded.

- Meeting new people will be good for you, she said. And I won’t lie : I don’t think you should be alone in here.

She was making it clear that she didn’t trust you. After all, how could you possibly prove that you weren’t going to be popping pills as soon as you were alone ?

- Right, you said.

She left you to your new room. Thank God she and Jamal, her boyfriend, were living in a big house with plenty of room to spare.

Jamal was a beat maker and producer and had made quite a name for himself. He was now starting to work with famous people. One of them was Eminem. You weren’t a big fan, although you did enjoy some of his most well-known music. In fact, this man was to be credited for you learning how to swear in English, as you’d learned the language by watching movies and listening to music. You hadn’t listened to him in a long time though and you were kind of wondering what he was up to, now.

Talia sometimes went to the studio with Jamal and she was getting along with everyone. According to her, “Em” (as she called him) was a great guy and she was pretty sure the two of you would get along.

FAST FORWARD

You had officially made it through your first NA meeting. It had been emotional but you were glad you went. Now was the time you dreaded : meeting everyone at the studio. As much as you appreciated Talia’s efforts to help you clear your head, you weren’t exactly the social type.

As the two of you entered the studio, you were greeted by half a dozen people. As soon as he saw you, Jamal got up and have you the biggest hug.

- How did it go ? He asked.

- Uh… it went well, I guess, you answered.

You weren’t particularly intent on talking about it, especially in front of people. Fortunately, Jamal was wise enough not to elaborate. The two of you were close and he knew better than to embarrass you. Still, you were thankful for his concern. From the moment he learned you’d be moving in with them, he had been nothing but supportive. « I know you’ll get through it », he had said.

Talia introduced you to everyone.

- So, this is Y/N, our new roommate and my very best friend, she said.

- How come we never met you before ? Somebody asked.

- Well, Y/N is a scholar so she doesn’t have a lot of time for people with lesser minds, she said jokingly.

You blushed immediately. Your best friend was the most supportive person of your work and she never stopped telling you how proud she was.

- Nice to meet you all, you said a bit awkwardly.

You shook everyone’s hand and you kind of had a shock as you introduced yourself to Eminem. You remembered him from at least fifteen years ago, blonde hair and clean shaven. He was now sporting brown hair as well as a well-trimmed beard. You would never have recognised him, had the two of you crossed path in the street. You couldn’t help but think to yourself that he was rather good looking. And in pretty good shape for an older dude who was in his early fifties. In fact, he did look at least ten years younger.

- Call me Marshall, he said as soon as he shook your hand.

- Ok, Marshall, you said while looking in his deep blue eyes.

He wasn’t as cheerful and smiling as the others, but he wasn’t distant either. You had always pictured him as a loud person, but the man you had in front of you was far from it. In fact, he seemed like the quiet, rather serious type. He looked like he was staring at you as if he was trying to read into your soul.

You joined Talia and sat on one of the big leather couches while everyone got back to working. You looked around and noticed that the studio seemed like a very comfortable, soothing space. For the first time today, you eased a little.

After some time, the group decided to take a break. Most of them went outside to smoke a cigarette and get some air, but you stayed inside. You did indulge in the occasional cigarette but you had been told it would be easier for you to refrain from taking any substance. You tried to be reasonable and not get tempted by the smell.

At some point, you were left with only Marshall, who was listening to the tune they just recorded in his headphones, pushing buttons on the mixing desk.

- So, how long have you been sober ? He asked as he looked at you.

- How do… how do you know ? You asked in shock.

- I was with Talia and Jamal when they got the call about one of their friends behind in the hospital after an OD. And you playing with your NA chip kind of tipped me off, he shrugged.

- Oh. Right. Actually, today was my first meeting, you said and blushed a little.

- Recovery is hard, he pointed out. Congrats on taking the first step.

You didn’t say more and he got back to mixing, as you stayed silent and watched him being extremely focused. As you studied him, you couldn’t help but notice an AA necklace dangling from his neck.

- So you’re in recovery too ? You asked.

- Yeah. Been sober for fifteen years now, he said with a smile.

- Wow. That’s impressive.

- Doesn’t mean it’s always easy, though, he confessed. But it’s 100% worth it.

There were a hundreds of questions going through your mind, but you clearly did not know him enough to ask them. Instead, you just smiled.

- Want to give me your opinion on the track ? He offered with a smile while handing you the headphones.

- I know nothing about music but sure, why not, you said, taking place in the chair next to his.

You placed the headphones on your ears and he played the song. You closed your eyes, in order to concentrate on what you were hearing. You were amazed at how fast this man was able to rap. Yet, you could hear and understand every single word. You particularly enjoyed the rhyming schemes. And, as ever with Jamal, the music was on point.

- it’s good, you said. It’s really good.

- Good to hear, he said with a smile.

The others came back to the room and Talia seemed extatic at the sight of you and Marshall talking. She knew how shy you were and every time you talked to someone new, she saw it as some sort of victory.

- So, people, Jamal said. How about y’all come to our place after ?

Everyone cheered and agreed. From what you gathered, it was usual for the group to meet at Jamal and Talia’s after a long day at the studio, so that they could kick back and get their mind off work. Talia held your hand in hers.

- I forgot Jamal wanted to have people over, I’m so sorry she said.

- It’s fine, you reassured her. But I’d rather stay in my room, if you don’t mind.

As everyone was arriving at Talia and Jamal’s, you said your goodbyes decided to hide in your room. Not that everyone hadn’t been super nice, but you highly suspected that there would be alcohol involved, if not weed. While you were climbing up the stairs, Talia grabbed your arm.

- Are you going to be ok ? There won’t be any hard liquor or anything like that, Y/N. Just a few beers, she said.

- I know, but… it’s been a long day. Meetings, people… I’d rather rest, you reassured her.

- Sure, she said as she gave you a peck on the cheek. I’ll be downstairs if you need me.

As soon as you entered your room, you changed into some comfier clothes : a cream-colored, cashmere set. You removed your makeup and put your hair up in a bun. You weren’t going to see people anyway so why bother ? You decided to watch Friends (your favorite show on Earth) and snuggle under a throw that reminded you of the place you shared with Simon.

After a couple of episodes, you heard a unfamiliar knock.

- come in ? You said.

The door opened and you saw Marshall standing there.

- So, are you hiding ? He asked with a smile.

- Kind of, you admitted.

- You have nothing to be scared of, he said. It’s very chill, downstairs.

- There’s still booze, right ?

- Just beer.

- I don’t really trust myself, you admitted.

- You had a drinking problem too ? He asked.

- Nope. Just pills. But now that they’re gone, I swear I’d take anything just to feel remotely… whatever.

- I feel you, Marshall said.

- Do you ?

- Yes, he simply said, showing his AA necklace.

- How do you feel so comfortable in a setting like this then ? You asked, wondering if you would ever get to the same point.

- It’s been 15 years, he explained. It gets easier with time. Plus, I’ve come to value the person I’ve become much more than the person I used to be when I was using. No money in the world could convince me to come back to that.

- It’s hard, you know. Hiding here when I know what’s going on down there, I said.

- Talia already gave Jamal so much shit about it, he said with a laugh.

This made you smile. Deep down, you knew Jamal didn’t mean harm, so you were kind of hoping Talia wasn’t giving him too much of a hard time.

- Thank you, you whispered. I don’t want to deprive you of your own fun, though.

- It’s fine. I don’t think I’m gonna stick around for long. I wanted to see if you wanted to go for a drive. You know, change your mind …?

- Uh… sure, I replied. Give me 5 minutes so that I can get dressed ?

He left the room and you quickly put together an outfit with a pair of dark wash jeans, a black turtleneck, a pair of knee-high boots and a blazer. You put your hair in a sleek ponytail and added some mascara for good measure. You weren’y trying too hard, but I definitely wanted to make an effort. After all, you had just met him - and he was extremely attractive.

- Ready to go, you said as you emerged of my room.

- Some sweats would have been enough, you know, he said joking.

- Oh. I started blushing.

- You look great though.

He didn’t say a word more and you got downstairs.

- Y/N and I are going on a drive, Marshall announced.

- Wait a minute, Talia said before you got the chance to get through the door.

She looked at both of you.

- No messing around. No drinking. No smoking. Nothing illicit or illegal. And you’d better be back home before midnight.

- Yes, Marshall noted with a chuckle.

- Yes Mom, you said jokingly while giving her a peck on the cheek.

As you got ouf of the house, you got to an impressive car. You were never good at recognising the brands or models, but this one was huge and it seemed like it was really expensive. It was also a bit contrast with Marshall, who did not look like the over-the-top stereotypical rapper. In fact, he was wearing normal clothes - jeans and a hoodie, no luxury logo to be seen.

- Where are you taking me ? I asked.

- You’ll see, he said with a voice full of mystery.

Normally, you wouldn’t have agreed to a car ride with someone you barely knew, but you were so eager to leave the house that you did not really care.

You took place in the car and Marshall started driving.

[justsomerandomfanfic]

Azkaban Prison - Sirius Black X Female Reader

Title: Azkaban Prison

Sirius Black X Female Reader

Additional Characters: Rita Skeeter (Mentioned), Harry (Mentioned), James (Mentioned), Lily (Mentioned), Pince (Mentioned), Voldy (Mentioned), and Reader's parents (Mentioned)

Requested by: Anon!

WC: 1,903

Warnings: Azkaban, sarcastic Reader, Auror Reader, very brief mention to drinking/partying, crying, sort of sad, set during the second book/movie, nicknames, banter, teasing, flirting, slight angst, and fluff

"Dropping off another one, Miss L/N?"

You gave the man at the security desk a stiff nod and an equally stiff smile, "Yep! I just don’t know where they keep coming from." You answered sarcastically as the witch you brought in was taken to her cell.

The man, whose name tag spelled out 'Stanley Parloose,' only grumpily nodded before he gestured for your wand. "Wand, please."

"Alright, don't get your trousers in a twist," You grumbled, taking out your wand and handing it to the man, who then sat it on the Wand Weigher.

"Is that all you are here to do?" Stanley asked, looking up at you, past the rims of his thickly-framed glasses; his bright blue eyes almost judging you as you rocked on the balls of your feet.

Looking off, you pretended to think about your answer before giving the man a grin, "I don't know... You wouldn't allow me to go up a couple of floors, would you?" You asked, raising an eyebrow as the man sighed heavily.

"You're the middle-tier Auror, Miss L/N. What do you think the answer is?" Stanley asked boredly, resting his head in his hand as he looked up at you.

You pouted slightly, crossing your arms over your chest, "I think the answer is no, but it's worth a shot every time." You muttered as the man snorted, looking down at his paperwork.

"Correct again, Miss L/N," Stanley teased, smirking as you scoffed.

"I could have you fired, Mr. Parloose." You snapped, watching as the man's smirk grew.

"You may work for the Ministry, Miss L/N," Stanley sang, laughing when you huffed, "But, you know that your name is not on the list. I can not permit you to travel up there for you are-"

"I'm not someone with strong ties or anything. Yeah, I know. It's bollocks." You tilted your head as you stared down at the man, "But... You know... I think I can have Rita Skeeter interview you some time..." You trailed off, watching as the man's eyes widened slightly before he cleared his throat.

"Rita Skeeter? You know her?" He asked, trying to hide the fact that he was very intrigued by the idea of an interview by the witch.

You smiled, knowing that you won this battle, "Of course, I do! She's a very dear friend of mine. We are like this." You emphasized, crossing your fingers together to show how close you were to the - annoying - woman. "I'm sure she'd love to do an exclusive interview with the security guard of the most formidable wizard prison, who also allows me access to the floor I'm not supposed to be on." You told him, his eyes widened even more as you stepped forward to lean lightly on his desk, pretending to examine your nails.

"You're bluffing..."

"Am I?" You countered, staring down at the man, gaze unwavering, "You know... She once told me that she had a thing for brunettes. And that she may or may not be single." You drew the fishing line, and Stanley took the lure.

"Fine. You can go up there for no more than ten minutes. No more, no less." He told you, pointing his quill at you with a less-than-threatening glare.

You grinned, smiling bright, "Thanks, Stanny." You sang, pushing off the desk and turning on your heel.

"Hey! Don't call me that!" You heard the man yell as he glared at you.

"Whatever you say, Stanny-boy!" You yelled back.

You quickly made your way up and up the tower of Azkaban, your mind elsewhere as you thought about your boyfriend. It had been years since you had last seen him, eleven years to be exact.

You remembered the last night you saw Sirius Black. You had just watched your two best friends, James and Lily tie the knot. You partied, drank, ate, and danced with Sirius and your friends. You didn't remember much after that, just you and Sirius flooing home, and crashing on the couch together. That morning, you got ready to visit your family for the month, packing your bags, eating breakfast with Sirius, and kissing each other goodbye before you flooed to your family home. What you didn't know was that that was the last kiss you and Sirius would share.

Oh, how you wished that you were there when they took him away. But you knew that there would be nothing you could do. That was why you became an Auror in the first place, rising in the ranks slowly to finally reach the point that you could see him again - albeit sort of illegally.

It was dark, and you stumbled slightly as you found his cell. Peaking through the small window in the metal door, you felt the air in your lungs escape you, and you cursed under your breath. Sirius sat in the corner of the room, legs up against his chest, arms wrapped around him, the sunlight shining down upon him from the thin window.

"Sirius..." You muttered, just enough that his head lifted at the sound of your voice, eyes rapidly flickering around the room - as if he had really gone insane, imagining your voice - before he found the small portion of your face peeking out from the window on the door.

"Y/N?" His voice was hoarse from lack of use, and you swallowed back the lump forming in your throat at the sight of him. You nodded your head, pushing up to rest your forehead on the metal door. You didn't say anything, afraid if you did, you would cry. You heard and watched him move, the scraping of his skin and his prison clothing against the wall as he pushed himself to his feet. His hand reached out for you, just brushing against your cheek before he almost flinched back in fear that it was all a dream, that you weren't real. "Y/N," He repeated, voice louder this time as if he was making sure that you were really there.

"It's me, Sirius." You responded softly, looking at him through the window, seeing his eyes staring right into yours. “I’m here.” You frowned deeply upon seeing how thin and frail he looked, "My poor baby, what have they done to you..?

"How are you here?" He asked, ignoring your question, staring at you with those gray eyes that you missed so much.

Licking your bottom lip, you gave him a small, nervous smile, "I'm an Auror... And I may or may not have bribed the security guard to let me up here." You admitted sheepishly, feeling your heart race in your chest as his lips twitched slightly at your confession.

"Oh, Y/N," He said, moving the tips of his fingers against your cheek, a soft chuckle leaving him as you leaned into his touch as much as you could from the window's small opening. "How come you haven't seen me before?" He asked, his thumb stroking your skin as your eyes fell shut.

You swallowed back the lump in your throat, feeling tears burn behind your eyes as you looked back at him. "Stanley, the security guard, is surprisingly hard to crack. If I had known that he had a huge crush on Rita Skeeter, I would've used that instead." You admitted, shrugging slightly as a small, breathy laugh left Sirius.

"It's been so long, my love," He muttered, "I haven't seen you in close to a decade." He murmured, a soft look appearing on his features as he took in every detail of you that he could make out from the terrible lighting.

"It has..." You agreed, "I missed you. A lot." You told him truthfully, giving him a watery smile as he looked at you with such sorrow and adoration it made you weak in the knees. "But, we will get you out of here, and I will take you far away from this place." You told him, your eyes flickering around his cell before they returned back to his face. "I just need time... I- I can get you out, I just need-"

"Shhh..." He hushed you softly, stroking his dirty thumb over your bottom lip, but you didn’t care, "It's okay, Y/N. You don't have to explain yourself to me. I know how the Ministry works. They've done a lot of wrong by me... But you... You will make it right again. You're too good for this world."

You couldn't help the tears that flowed down your cheeks as he spoke, his voice deep and soothing, "I love you, Siri." You whispered, watching as he smiled at you, and it was like the stars in the night sky.

"I love you too, my little treasure," Sirius said, voice soft and rough with emotion.

Blinking rapidly, tears burned the back of your eyes as you cleared your throat lightly, "Are you alright?" You asked, before huffing, shaking your head slightly, "That's a silly question. You don't have to answer that." You laughed slightly as you wiped away your tears, "Is there anything I can bring you next time? I think I can get Stanley to let me up here again... I can bring food maybe or-"

"You..." He responded, interrupting you, smiling when you blinked up at him in confusion, "You're all I need, Y/N... You and your little smile that melts me into a puddle every time I see it. Your soft hair that always smells like summer."

"Sirius," You sighed out, your smile growing uncontrollably at his words, "Became a poet, have you?"

"The thought of you has kept me sane," Sirius muttered, glancing around his cell quickly before looking back at you, "How's Harry?" He then asked, swiftly changing the topic.

"Little Harry?" You asked, "He's doing as good as he can, being the Boy Who Lived and all."

"Is he doing alright at Hogwarts?"

"He is. I try to visit Hogwarts as much as I can to check up on him. I gave him that picture of James and Lily for his twelfth birthday." You told him, "He's a lot like you, really. James too. He gets into so much trouble. Aside from the trouble You-Know-Who causes." You bit your lip briefly, narrowing your eyes playfully, "And that's funny coming from you. It took a lot of convincing to get you to even do your homework."

Sirius laughed, and it was a beautiful sound, and you would be lying if you said you didn't want to hear it more often. "You got me there… You’d never see me in that library. Pince hated me."

Your smile dwindled slightly, looking down at your Muggle watch, "I have to go... Stanley only gave me ten minutes." You whispered, biting the inside of your cheek, feeling like the worst person in the world for leaving.

"I understand. You do what you have to, treasure." He told you, though his eyes were begging and pleading for you to stay.

"I'll try and come back and see you. I promise." You muttered, reaching your hand up to touch his, your fingers just brushing against his own as he gave you a nod.

"I'll be waiting for you." He replied, and you could feel your heart in your throat as you smiled at him, taking one last look before you left him to go back to the floor you were not supposed to be on.

---

Main Masterlist | Harry Potter Masterlist

[thedoctorisgroovy]

Slim Pickin's

» Pairing: Spencer Reid x BAU!Reader

» Word count: 1655

» Warnings/Tags: Spencer has a gf(non canon made up name), mentions of sex (but no detail), alcohol consumption (no one is drunk though), using people to get over someone, reader sleeps with people as a coping mechanism, angst, idiots in love, fluff, happy ending!!!

» A/N: I heard this song and couldn't resist writing something based off of it. Who else is obssessed with her album?? If anyone was gonna make me break my streak of bad dating it was be our boy Spencer.

I realised I was in love with Spencer after the 3rd time hooking up with my friends with benefits that month.

Over a bottle of wine at my best friend Penelope’s house, we’d discussed my boundaries and expectations and after the douchebags I’d been out on simple first dates with, the bar was still unbelievably low and yet was still clearly unattainable.

“I just want someone who’s jacked but kind ya know? Literally just nice and is alive and breathing, not much to ask for.” Close to slurring every syllable that came out of my mouth and essentially on the verge of tears. I wanted to follow it up with something about wanting Spencer - my other best friend and colleague - but I didn’t need to. She knew well enough what I was insinuating after hearing me pine over him for months already.

“Okay get that cute and sexy butt up, we’re going out and finding you someone that you can move on with!”She exclaimed, reaching out to tap my butt as I stood with her.

“I already have someone, I have Jake.” Reminding her of my frequent friends with benefit situation that developed about a month ago.

“Well you can have multiple ‘someones’ until you get over him, so lets go!” And with that she dragged us to the nearest bar to find me someone new to drink up and drown my sorrows in.

After a thoroughly disappointing evening of fancying and talking to exactly no one, I decide to part ways with Penelope and go home, it was 1am on a work night after all and no more drinks or men would distract me from Spencer the way that sleep could. I finally crash into bed and receive the ever so romantic text from Jake.

“You up?”

“Yeah, just got home from the bar. Long night lol”

“Could I come over their?”

I groan dejectedly before screenshotting the message and sending it to Garcia captioned “Why am I sleeping with a man who doesn’t know the difference between their, there and they’re?” I can almost hear the giggle in her reply.

“Ooh get some girl, see you in the morning, don’t be late!” I send her an upside down smiley face emoji before flicking back to Jake’s name in my messages list.

“Sure. See you in 10. Don’t plan to stay over, I have work at 8.” I reply before dashing off to the bathroom to freshen up and look presentable. I debated sending Spencer the screenshot, knowing he’d get a kick out of someone’s appalling grammar but decided not to, not wanting him to 1. know that I’m sleeping with strangers and 2. give me a lecture on the importance of dating people who are “on your level.” He would never judge me, but he does want what’s best for me, even if he doesn’t realise that it’s him. I hear his familiar knock after a few short minutes and go to open the door. When I do, Jake is immediately on me - obviously pleasantries don’t exist when you’re horny - and we fall into the pattern we’ve developed over the time we’ve been sleeping together.

As Jake did his best attempt at having sex with me, my mind wandered to Spencer. His beautiful curls, his grin that reached both ears and lit up his eyes, his laugh, his wonderful brain full of science and facts and trivia. The way he smelt when he allowed me to hug him sometimes. I knew it was wrong to think about him this way, especially in this moment and especially since he has a girlfriend, but I couldn’t help it. This past case hadn’t helped either. We’d been paired together on every aspect which meant a lot of one on one time in the car, the office or coffee breaks. Everything about him drew me to him like an invisible thread and my heart broke thinking that my current situation would never happen with him. Jake finishing brought me back to my reality and I pretended to while he leaned down to kiss me. He wasn’t a bad kisser by any means, I just didn’t care.

The guilt set in after he left, knowing that I was just using him to feel some sort of connection and satisfaction. I’d been playing him like a slot machine, except I was still losing.  I’d been complaining about these men, all the time knowing that I’m the problem purely because I can’t have what I want. I know that he’s using me too otherwise we’d probably be officially dating instead of just hooking up, but it doesn’t alleviate the embarrassment of knowing I won’t be able to look my co worker in the eye in a few hours time. I hug my knees to my chest and close my eyes, the feeling that I’ll probably end up alone finally getting through to my thick skull. Just as I started to doze off my phone suddenly buzzed. I grab it, only to see Spencer’s name flashing under the text notification.

“Sorry to disturb you so late, are you awake?”

“Hey Spence, it’s okay. I’m just about to head to sleep but we can talk if you need to. Are you okay?”

“I’m so sorry, I’ll let you sleep. Can we talk at work instead, in private?”

“Of course. See you soon. Goodnight Spencer.

“Goodnight.”

My heart pounded in my chest at the possibilities of what he could want to talk to me about. If it was something personal, surely he’d go to Emily or JJ, they’re his best friends.Some sick, petty part of me hoped he somehow knew about my night-time escapades and was jealous. I ended up convincing myself it was work related just to be able to fall asleep that night.

I barged open the door to Garcia’s magical tech cave without looking up from my phone and immediately started off loading to her.

“Ooh girl, it is slim pickin’s out there I swear.. OOF!“ I look up at what I bump into and am met with Spencer’s tear stained face and red eyes, he looks so hurt that my heart breaks in regards to him for the 2nd time in 12 hours.

“Spencer? What’s wrong, are you okay, are you hurt?”

“He broke up with Allie.”

“Oh my gosh, sweetie I’m so sorry. Is this why you wanted to talk last night?” He nodded slightly, wiping his eyes with the backs of his sleeves.

“Please don’t call me sweetie” He pleaded, laughing almost incredulously, the bitterness on his tongue tainting the usual sweet melody of his laughter.

“Okay..?” His sudden change sent me reeling, I always called him pet names and he’s never once had a problem with it.

“You’re the reason they broke up…” Garcia lilted teasingly.

“Garcia!” Spencer snapped her surname back at her, desperation flooding his features.

“Me? What did I do?” I bit back, I knew that I had been nothing but kind and respectful to Spencer so how the hell could this be my fault? Spencer stood there looking mortified and frantic, his frazzled curls sticking to his forehead slightly. I stared at him before begging,

“Spence? Please talk to me.”

“Okay. What Garcia means is, we broke up because I realised that I have feelings for you. On this case, all the time we spent together, I started to fall for you. But it wasn’t just this week, I realised I liked you since you started working with us. And when I got home you weren’t there but I wanted you to be, but I knew that wasn’t fair to Allie so I called her and she came over and we talked and I broke up with her.” He rambled off animatedly, running his fingers through his hair, something he did when he was stressed or preoccupied. I just stood there frozen, mouth hanging open like I was trying to catch flies or something. I couldn’t believe what I’d heard or thought I’d heard. ”You.. you like me?” I thought I was going to faint.

He crossed the gap between us in one stride and wrapped his hands around my waist. His touch was so careful and gentle that I melted into it without hesitation. I rested my head on his chest and listened to his heartbeat for a few seconds before looking up into his beautiful eyes. Everything I wanted and needed was right here in the moment, and I was afraid to let go. He lowered his voice just close enough to a whisper, words meant just for he and I to hear.

“I wanted to talk to you last night but you said you were going to sleep, so I spoke to Garcia instead, and she told me that you’d been hiding this from me all this time. I know it was out of respect but I’m sorry you were hurting. Would you like to go to dinner with me? On a proper date?”

A squeal that left Penelopes’ mouth was quickly silenced by Spencer and I turning to shoot her a death glare. I reached up to stroke his cheek, eyes softening again as I turned my gaze from Peneople to him. Everything in me wanted to scream yes. I wanted to jump onto him, kiss him, wrap myself around him, live in the question for however long I could. But I knew I had to give him an answer, and a real one at that.

“Spencer that’s not fair to you or Allie. You just broke up and I don’t want to be a rebound. I would love to go out with you, okay please know that. But I’ve waited this long, I’m happy to wait a little longer.” He beamed at me, one of his signature ear to ear grins that I’d fallen for long ago.

[3-2-whump]

Down the Drain

Thank you for the title suggestion and the beta read, @whumped-by-glitter and @generic-whumperz

This one shot doubles as both a look into Cade's backstory, and a glimpse into how the roommates resolved conflicts and worked out a solution before Khaled came into their lives. Enjoy I guess?

PS, I really miss writing and posting, so I might just ignore my previous timeframe and post the sequel earlier? Idk. It's my blog, I make the rules here, but I don't know what I'm doing lol

TW/CW: domestic violence/intimate partner violence (offscreen, alluded to), transphobia, unhealthy relationships, stalking, toxic masculinity. I think I got them all, but I can tag more if need be. Heed the tags on this one, folks.

It began with a phone call at 9 PM on a cold night.

“Come on, pick up, please, pick up,” Cade murmured desperately. The shelter wouldn’t take him, he hadn’t talked to his parents in a year, this was the only bridge he hadn’t burned yet, and he just hoped to the gods or whatever higher power was out there that his shining light would pick up the phone.

Loud and lively party music blared through the phone, quickly interrupting the drone of the ringing phone. Cade thought his heart might burst with relief as his dearest and oldest friend finally answered the phone, yelling a little to be heard.

“Yeah?”

“Eric, it’s me, Cade!” Cade yelled back.

“Cade?” Even through the din of the loud music, Cade could hear the smile in Eric’s voice. “Shit, man, let me move to a quieter place!” There were some light shuffling sounds, then some heavy footsteps, indicating that Eric stepped away from whatever party he was attending.

Why are you interrupting him at his party? He’s having a great time, don’t bother him with your- Cade cut off the intrusive inner voice and anxiously stayed on the line.

“Okay, is that better?” Eric asked.

Cade smiled, nodded, then remembered Eric couldn’t see him nod. “Yeah,” he answered.

“Now, what’s good, Cade?”

“I…” Classic Eric, always asking about him, always there for him, always making him smile when he wanted to do nothing but cry. Which, judging by the constricting of his chest and the way his eyes pricked with tears, would be very helpful right now, to have something to smile for.

“I… I need help…”

-

It was a year ago today that Cade began to live with Eric and his roommate Vikash. Eric had driven to the street corner Cade was waiting on in the Moon Garden Catering Van. He wore a tunic-like thing and smelled like something divine. He picked Cade up and drove him back to the party –a Diwali party, hence the clothes. He fed him some of the best curry he ever had in his life, introduced him to Vikash Gill and his family (who were hosting the party), and briefly explained the situation to Vik. Once Vik learned what had happened and who Cade was to Eric, he welcomed him into 716 Sunvine Ave with open arms.

Although, this morning, maybe he’d change his mind, Cade fretfully worried as he continued fiddling with the drain to the kitchen sink. Beside him, Vikash stood, hair disheveled from his morning workout, and mouth downturned into a scowl as he bitched and moaned about the clogged sink.

“Damn it, Cade, you’ve lived here for a year already, and you still forget we don’t have a garbage disposal in this sink?!” he asked.

“I thought it was small enough to go down!” Cade defended, panicking as the sink half-full of rancid water burped up broken food particles with every thrust of the takeout chopsticks he’d taped end to end.

“Chutiya, it’s rice! Rice expands when it’s wet!” Vik yelled.

“You don’t have to yell at me! I’m trying to fix it!” Cade screamed back.

Eric rushed down the stairs and rounded the corner, phone in one hand and a five-gallon bucket in the other. “Break it up, break it up! Yelling at him is not gonna fix the sink any more than poking it with a stick!” Eric chastised. He gently but firmly bumped Cade out of the way and threw the cupboard doors below the sink open. “Now, Jason is gonna be here any minute, and I don’t want our landlord doing the annual inspection on his former childhood home when the sink is clogged, do you?!” he asked the two. Both men shook their heads, crouching down beside Eric to clear out the space below the U-bend of the sink, their shouting match already forgotten as they took out bottles of cleansing spray, dish rags, and rubber gloves alike.

The doorbell rang amongst all this mess. Cade jumped, Vik groaned, and Eric ignored it, shimmying the bucket under the U-bend and grabbing the tools he’d need to loosen the pipes. “Someone else get that,” he ordered, too absorbed in what he was doing.

Cade volunteered. He quickly ran out of the kitchen, took one look in the hallway mirror to adjust his hair and damp t-shirt, and came to the door to answer it. “Hey,” he greeted.

The welcoming smile on his face faded as soon as he saw it wasn’t Jason on their doorstep. The bearded man in the plaid shirt stood on their doorstep, smiling back as he raised a hand. Cade flinched, then cursed himself for flinching when their unwelcome guest merely waved in greeting. “Hi Cade, it’s been awhile.”

The memories and the hurt began to bubble from somewhere in Cade’s gut, threating to boil over into his esophagus and poison his words with resentment. Best end this interaction as quickly and politely as he could. “Go away, Brant,” Cade replied coldly.

Brant dropped his hand. “What, aren’t you going to hear me out?” he asked, sounding confused and a bit hurt. It took all of Cade’s strength not to cave to that façade of hurt.

“What’s there to hear out?” Cade asked. He kept his hand on the doorknob, ready to slam it at any moment’s notice. “We broke up a year ago, and yet you tracked me down and showed up at my house. Why?”

“I-I wanted to talk to you, to work things out between us,” Brant said, “but you wouldn’t pick up your phone, you wouldn’t text me, you wouldn’t reply to my DMs –nothing!” Cade raised an unimpressed brow as Brant fell back on the classic excuses. “And yeah, sure, I started seeing someone else for a little bit,” his ex-boyfriend admitted, “but they mean nothing to me, compared to you!”

Cade let out an unimpressed laugh. “I’m sure Danny would love to hear that!” he added sarcastically.

“Come on, Cade! I followed your Instagram stories for months, called your work, got your address, drove for three hours to talk to you, and you won't give me the time of day?” Brant pouted.

Cade made a show of bringing a hand up to his chin to stroke it, pretending to be deep in thought. “Hmmm. And why do you suppose that is?” he asked rhetorically. He shot Brant a scathing glare.

His ex-boyfriend huffed a frustrated sigh as he rolled his eyes behind his thick-framed glasses. “I give you some tough love one time-”

“’Tough love,’ my ass –you locked me out of our house!” Cade interrupted.

“Fine, I lock you out of the house one time, and then you gotta disappear on me in the middle of the-”

“Brant, let me stop you right there,” Cade said firmly, holding up his hand to silence the man at the entrance. “You don’t get it at all, do you?! You made me sell my Oscar, you smashed my crystals, ridiculed my music, flushed my birth control! I had two decks of tarot cards, Brant, because I knew that when you found one, I’d still have at least one deck once you threw the one you found away! And don’t even get me started on how you’d trigger my dysphoria when we were in bed on purpose!”

Brant dropped all pretense of making friendly. “You’re making it into a bigger deal than it was,” he growled, poking a finger accusatorily at him. “A real man would’ve let that shit slide and moved on-”

That triggered a bitter laugh from Cade. “’A real man’?!” Classic Brant Voorhes. How pathetic/infuriating/relieving to know he never changed, Cade thought. “Really?! Honestly, fuck you!” he yelled. “In the fourteen months that we dated, you told me the whole time what I was supposed to do, how I was supposed to act, how to be a ‘real man’ or whatever, but you weren’t really interested in making me a man,” Cade accused, “you were only interested in making me your dog, and I had enough of it!”

Brant gaped slack-jawed on the concrete steps to the entrance, his mouth moving without sound like a flopping fish as his face reddened with pent-up emotions.

Cade shook his head. “So, all that I mean to say is…” he continued, lowering his voice. He stepped away from the door frame, beginning to close the door between him and his ex as the man tried to follow him inside, “…fuck off, Brant. And don’t ever come back again.”

Slamming the door on that piece of shit was the most freeing thing he’d ever done in his life, apart from coming out. He caught a glimpse of himself in the hallway mirror and gave his reflection a victorious smile. “Nice job, me,” he praised.

He returned to the kitchen with a bounce in his step. Vik looked at him confusedly. Eric straightened up from underneath the sink to a sitting position on the kitchen floor. Cade hummed as he picked out a box of mithai Vik’s parents sent home with them after Diwali last weekend.

“Was…that Brant?” Eric asked tensely. Cade remembered how angry Eric got when he told him about all the things Brant did to him the first time around. It was the closest he’d ever seen his easygoing friend get to homicidal levels of rage.

“Yeah.” Cade replied. He fished out a syrup-saturated jalebi and took a bite. Just as good as it was last year, he thought to himself, smiling around the sugary treat.

“Are you okay though?” Vik asked. “I know that guy fucked you over, it must’ve been hard to see him again.”

Cade swallowed, then took another bite of jalebi into his teeth. “Nah, not really,” he shrugged.

The doorbell rang again. Eric got up from the kitchen floor, muttering something about how if it was Brant out there, he’d do something to end up on the news. Vik slowly walked towards Cade, lowering his eyes as he awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck. “You know, this unexpected visit with Brant reminded me it’s your one year anniversary of leaving that prick, of living with us.”

He sighed. “I’m sorry, about earlier,” he apologized. “I’m glad you came to us, and if anyone’s going to clog our sink with leftover chunks of rice, I’d rather it be you.”

Cade popped the last of the jalebi in his mouth. He was about to give Vik’s bicep an appreciative pat, but stopped his hand midway remembering that his fingers were covered in syrup. “I know, and… thanks,” he replied. They exchanged smiles, then their attention was directed elsewhere, as Eric led Jason the landlord into their apartment.

Le Tag List (if you want to be added or subtracted from the backstory bits, nbd, just let me know): @kabie-whump @rainydaywhump @whumped-by-glitter @skittles-the-whumpee @generic-whumperz

@bamber344 @morning-star-whump @a-la-whump @watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees @defire

@phoenixpromptsandstuff @scumashling

[vodika-vibes]

Fox with fem!reader "prove it" from the how to respond to I want you prompts :3 with reader saying it pretty please 🥺👉👈

Make Me Believe

Summary: Commander Fox has been your friend for months now, and now he wants more. Not that you're complaining.

Pairing: Commander Fox x F!Reader

Word Count: 1138

Warnings: Smut

Tagging: @trixie2023

A/N: You want me to write a semi-smutty fic about the actual love of my life and the owner of my entire heart? Oh, well if you insist, lol. I', honestly not happy with the smut portion of this, but I'm pretty sure that that's my perfectionism coming out to play. So I hope this is close to what you wanted?

Divider by Saradika

“You know, you could have chosen literally any other job,” You look up from your datapad and smile at Commander Fox, who’s standing in the doorway to your office, his helmet hanging from his fingers. “Pretty thing like you, you must have had other opportunities other than being the Personal Assistant to the Supreme Chancellor.”

“Well, I considered stripping, but I’m afraid I’m about as coordinated as a drunk three legged masiff.” You joke as you set your datapad to the side, and when your joke is answered with a small smile from Fox, you feel a surge of elation. 

He enters your office, and leans his hip against your desk, “I dunno, mesh’la. You’re pretty enough, I bet your clumsiness would be a boon when it comes to dancing.” He teases lightly, as he sets his helmet on an empty spot on your desk.

“Yeah? Would you be one of my repeat customers?” You ask with a grin.

He tilts his head and some of his hair falls into his face, “Yeah,” He finally says, “I would.” Fox’s gaze is serious, “I’d be there everyday to watch you dance.”

You laugh softly and favor Fox with a warm smile, “I was joking, Fox.”

His gaze doesn’t waver from your face, “I wasn’t.”

Your lips part in surprise, “You…what?”

“I want you.” His voice is slow, thoughtful, as if he’s judging your reaction to his words even as he says them. “I have for a while now,” He adds easily.

You could have said anything. A relationship with the Marshall Commander of the Coruscant Guard is a bad idea. He’s a coworker, a friend, and if it goes wrong you run the risk of losing one of your best friends.

But-

You stare at him for a moment longer, “Prove it.” The words fall from your lips in a whisper, and you flush red and clamp your hand over your mouth, “Erm…I mean…”

A grin crosses Fox’s face. It’s sharp and triumphant, and he immediately stops leaning on your desk to stand over you, “I can do that, cyar’ika.” He says as he silently urges you to your feet with a gentle touch.

And then he tugs your arm and you stumble into his chest, his hands immediately settle on your hips and grip tightly. You look up at him, your face still heated with flustered embarrassment, and he grins at you as he bumps his forehead against yours.

“Fox…” You murmur his name softly, and he hums in return.

“Love how you say my name,” He says softly, his hands tighten around your hips and he lifts you to sit you on the edge of your desk and his hands swiftly push your skirt up over your hips so he’s able to settle himself between your legs, but he never once takes his gaze off your face.

You press your hands against his cheeks, your thumb tracing the scar over his nose, “I don’t say it any special way,” You reply quietly, afraid that if you speak too loudly the feel of the room will change.

“Mm. Gonna make you moan my name, want to hear how that sounds.” His lips hover just over yours, and he grins when you lean in to try and close the distance, but he stays just out of reach.

“Fox,” You groan his name in frustration.

His grin broadens, “And then I’m going to make you scream my name, baby. That way everyone knows that you’re mine.”

You squirm against him, “Fox,” his name is a whine this time, “I want to kiss you.”

“You’re not very patient at all, are you, cyar’ika?”

Your pout becomes obvious, “You said you were gonna prove that you wanted me.” You remind him petulantly. 

His eyes glitter with amusement, “Oh, I am.” 

You narrow your eyes at him, “But…?”

“But, I’m kind of curious how long it’ll take me to get you to beg for my cock, cyar’ika.” Fox replies.

Your jaw drops, and you huff indignantly, “I am not going to beg-” Your sentence is cut off with a ragged moan when he drags one of his gloved fingers over your still covered pussy.

“Oh, my sweet cyar’ika.” He coos, “You’re definitely going to beg.” Now that he has your attention, his touch becomes feather light as he ghosts his fingers up and down your thighs, and totally ignores the spot you want him to touch the most.

You squirm against him, “You’re the worst, Fox.”

“Am I?” He asks teasingly, his lips finally catching your own in a deep kiss, before he drags his lips to your throat and starts nipping on the tender skin there to leave a trail of red marks.

Your breath catches in your throat, “The absolute worst,” You confirm as another shaky moan falls from you.

“So,” The hand that isn’t relentlessly teasing you, moves to your top and starts unfastening buttons, “Does that mean I should stop?” He teases as he pushes your shirt off your shoulders and deftly unfastens your bra and tosses it to the side as well, “Since I’m the worst, after all.” His hand immediately moves to your breast and he lightly pinches one of your nipples, and is rewarded with a moan.

You smile slyly, “Well I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself, Fox.” His name falls from your lips in a purr, and Fox’s fingers pause where they are.

He blinks at you, dumbly, for a moment, and then he grins, “You’re going to have to prove that to me, princess.” Fox replies. 

“What? Now?” You sputter.

“Later.” Fox corrects.

“What makes you think you get a later?” You challenge him.

Fox’s smile becomes smug, “I have you half naked and wet on your own desk, Princess. And I haven’t even really touched you yet.”

Your face heats again, and you avert your gaze. 

Fox lightly grips your chin and turns your head so you’re looking at him, “You’re beautiful,” He whispers, “Absolute perfection.” 

Your face heats even more, “Fox…”

“I want you so badly.”

You lean in and crash your lips against his, “Make me believe it,” You whisper against his lips.

Fox rips one of his gloves off and tosses it to the side, and then he slides your panties down your legs. And then, finally, he brushes his thumb over your clit, and your hips jerk towards him. “Going to make you feel amazing, cyar’ika.” He breathes against your lips.

“Thought you were going to make me beg,” You tease him as a shuddering moan falls from your lips when he eases a single finger in you and starts to thrust shallowly.

“That’s still the plan,” He replies before he kisses your jaw, “No need to worry, Princess. You’re going to get everything you need.”

[miscfandomwrites]

A/N: This is a short drabble I had hidden in my drafts, I believe this is a start to my 'Volchista' series which is something that's been thought about for a couple years, but I think for now I just want a cowgirl who falls in love with another gal...or two. ;) Oh, btw, I make all of my headers by myself. Please don't steal them from me, they take a lot of work.

Pairing: Cowgirl! Reader x Wanda Maximoff x Natasha Romanoff

Warnings: None / Reader has an aversion to alcohol

Words: 935

Tagging: @tyler-t0t

~

"I think it's time to retire 76, she keeps going lame, and I doubt she'll survive another calf season" I told Clint as I headed to the kitchen to wash up for dinner. 

"You know what's best for the animals, if that's what you think needs to be done, take care of it." He replied beside me, cutting up some tomatoes for the burgers.

"How come you let her make all the decisions?" Tony asked him, leaning back in his chair, sipping on a glass of what I could only assume was either whiskey or bourbon. 

"She lived in Montana, and has spent, what..three decades ranching?" A slightly confused look on his face as Clint faced me, leaning back against the counter. 

"Four, but yeah, I have experience and background" 

"So what's going to happen to 76 then? You'll kill her?" Spoke the dark redhead, judging by the length of her hair, that would be Wanda Maximoff.

"I have a friend who will euthanize her out in the field, but until then I will make sure she is as comfortable as possible. I believe that an animal should live its best life, and be as healthy as can be, but if repeating issues occur or the way of life for the animal is made to where it would be unethical to keep alive, then in that case there is necessity for euthanization.” 

“So just because she’s old and can’t have a baby, you’re going to kill her?” 

“The average lifespan of a cow is twenty years. 76 is twenty-two years old, the last calf she had nearly killed her, and the last three calves haven’t survived birth or gestation.” 

“So she’s old, so she’s going to die?”

“No, it would be mean to keep her alive because she would keep getting sick and when she doesn’t feel good it’s not good for her, (Y/N) just wants the animals to be happy.” a small voice piped up, coming from Clint’s oldest, Abigail. 

I nodded at her as she glared, or as much as an eight year old could glare, at the billionaire.

“How old are you?” 

I shrugged, and started to help Lauren bring the dishes to the table, ignoring his question. 

~

“Want a beer?” Steve asked, holding out an unopened bottle to me.

I saw both Clint and Lauren open their mouths, but before they could said anything, I settled my face with a neutral expression and told him bluntly. “I don’t drink.” before walking past him to grab a soda out of the fridge. 

I grabbed one of the glass cokes that were kept stocked next to the beers and popped the top off, tossing it into the little bin next to the fridge. 

“Mind if I ask why?” Stark asked, sipping on whatever it was. 

I shrugged. “I honestly don’t like it. It dulls the senses and I’ve genuinely never had an alcoholic drink that tastes good. Besides, I feel like I’ve had enough alcohol to last me the rest of my life.”

“Are the cows names just numbers?” The dark red-head blurts out as I was sitting down. 

I took a sip of my drink and tried to piece together the best way to explain to her that I knew how. 

“Technically yes, we have three-hundred and seventy-nine cows in our herd, we can’t really give them all names. Well, the older ones, the ones past twenty, yes we name, but we also retire them.” 

“Just because they can’t breed?” 

“Yes and no, they are old enough and have had at a minimum of three calves, so I see no reason to have them out with the bulls where they could potentially get pregnant again and miscarry, or end up dying during labor. Or, if they resist the bulls, the bulls will attack them. Occasionally, if I have an orphan calf or if I am given one, I give it to the older ones because they know how to care for them.”

“Giving them a chance at motherhood again without the pain of pregnancy or the dangers of giving birth.” Lauren adds on, raising her mug to me. 

“Exactly. I try my best to look after them. If an animal’s well-being is ever called into question, especially if it has to do with how they could live the rest of their life in pain, I do everything I can to make sure that animal will not be in pain even if it means relentless vet visits or having to euthanize so they can have a chance of being free from the pain. And trust me, I hate it. But it is necessary.”

“You definitely sound like you’ve been doing this for a long time. Where on earth do you get the money for the vet visits though? I imagine with all of the animals you have the bills are ridiculous.” 

“I know a couple people, and I do the occasional mission to help fund the farm if needed. However, that's only when Clint or Nat are on leave.” 

“Why?” 

“I’d rather not leave my family without someone who knows how to protect them. That and someone who knows how to manage the farm when they’re gone.”

“Even then, I rely on the girls more than anything when it’s just me here. The cows have a particular…fondness for me.” Natasha spoke over her cup of juice. 

I chuckled. “They know a good soul when one’s around, I don’t blame em’ for gathering around you.” 

“Not when they leave their calves with me! I don’t know what to do with baby cows!”

[good-griief]

Time ; Regret

here's part two of "time"! i'm sure you all don't want me to end it here, so even tho i think it'd be a little cruelly funny to leave it up in the air like this, i promise there will be a part three— tho that will be the last part. this part is pretty dialogue-heavy, so i hope you enjoy the 'voices' i gave the characters<33

note sorry to have to post this again but tumblr posted it at the complete wrong time from my schedule and it wasn’t the right draft :( ( some kind of phone to computer mix up idk what happened</3 )

warnings ambiguous relationship/feelings between abby and reader, reference to romance, implications of unrequited love (it's not), she/her reader, lasting effects of torture to reader, morally grey reader, mention of joel's death/torture, ambiguous/story-teller dependent interpretation of major past event between characters

tags @frogtits1 @sawaagyapong @augieee21 @sunkissedbibi @eden-nox

part one part three

link to chapter 2 on ao3

After that, Abby decided against hugging you again, knowing she’d just get emotional. She didn’t know how you’d react to that anymore, so she played her safest bet and explained what happened from a distance, offering to help you work as she did. You didn’t react, but she could tell how upset you were just because you were so quiet. 

When she offered to come over that night, you agreed immediately, and when she came to your house, you opened the door with puffy red eyes and swollen lips. She gave you a somber smile. “Come on.” She opened her arms for you, holding you for a moment before she came inside. “They wouldn’t want you to cry,” she said, trying to say something comforting you might, and it coming out improperly. It made you chuckle at her attempt, making her sigh as she stepped away from you. “I’m still not the best at comforting people,” she said quietly, shutting your door behind her as she entered with a small smile. She reached out, dragging her knuckle beneath your eye to rid of any stray tears. You smiled at the gesture, gaining one from her, too. 

“You’re right, though.” You blinked away your feelings, taking her hand and leading her to your room so you could sit on the bed together. There was a brief, awkward silence. “What… Uh, what happened? How did it get to this?” You asked as you released her hand, playing with your own to distract yourself. 

Abby swallowed, pursing her lips. She had a feeling you’d judge her for what she did, but she wasn't going to lie. “Joel… The way we— I killed him. Tortured him in front of his brother, and killed him in front of that girl; the one he killed everyone to save. She came after us. Went through all of our friends to get to me, and… let me go.” You couldn’t tell how she felt about being left alive, but you were glad she was, placing your hand back on hers for added comfort. “Don’t.” She went to pull her hand away, but you grabbed it with both of yours. “You can be upset with me—“

“I’m not.” You shook your head, holding her hand gently. “I never should’ve given you that lead. I’m sorry.”

“I would’ve found out eventually.” She shook her head. “And I still would’ve done it…” She grimaced. “And this all would’ve happened anyway.”

“There’s no point in blaming yourself,” you sighed. “You just have to—“

“Let go? Yeah… I’ve heard that,” she scoffed, giving your hand a squeeze before she let go. “Couldn’t do it before either.”

“I wasn’t going to say that, Abby.” You shook your head at her. “You just have to accept it. It probably won’t ‘get better,’ and you’ll probably never let go, but you’ll be able to move on with your life, and not feel guilty for that. Then eventually, you’ll start to remember happier things about them, and… you’ll accept it.”

“Is that what you did? Just accept it?” Her lip sneered when she asked the question, but her brows were bent upward with a contradictory emotion. 

“I wanted to go back—“

“Why didn’t you?” She asked quickly, eyes rimming red just as quickly and making you avert your gaze. 

“I couldn’t…” You shrugged, forcing that same flippancy you gave Mel and Nora. “I mean… I left like a fucking coward, Ab,” you laughed at yourself. “Going back? I’d feel like a complete fool. I couldn’t face you guys— I couldn’t even face you guys four years later. The only thing I could do was keep going and try not to fucking die, I don’t know.”

“Everyone wanted you back,” she muttered, now understanding the brief encounter you had months ago. 

“I didn’t think you did.” Abby frowned, the words sounding like you were singling her out. “I thought, I don’t know, even if everyone else wanted me to be there, you wouldn’t after I suggested something so stupid.”

“It wasn’t stupid,” she said, chuckling lightly at your tone. 

“It was insensitive.” 

She shrugged. “I didn’t care… I didn’t even think of that, I just—“ She shook her head, sighing. “The first thing I thought when you mentioned it was that you were going to leave… I wanted to make it my choice that we wouldn’t see each other again, so I said something stupid— but if I’d just waited, let you talk, then… I would’ve realized you wanted to go together. Everyone just thought you planned on going alone.” She pursed her lips, looking away. “It was my fault everyone responded like that— don’t say it wasn’t,” she said before you could object. “No one would’ve said anything if I didn’t.”

“I didn’t care that much about what everyone else said. I figured they just thought I was going to leave you all, but… I thought you were telling me to leave for bringing it up in the first place.” You lied back on the bed so Abby wouldn’t see your face. “Even still, when I was alone, fucking terrified, the only thing I could think of was whether or not you guys were okay; how, maybe, it was better that I wasn’t there… It seemed like you guys got even closer when I saw you.”

There was a brief pause as Abby looked down at you. Clearly, you both needed to have this conversation, but it was almost impossible to have with how hard it was to sort out either of your feelings. 

“The first thing I wanted to do when I realized you were gone,” she started slowly, “was go and find you; tell you that I don’t care, and if that’s what you wanted we could go. We could go to Los Angeles, or Santa Barbara, or San Francisco, or wherever the fuck you wanted to go, ‘cause I had no fucking idea what I was going to do without you… And I needed you.” The waver in her voice made you shut your eyes, taking in her words with a crease between your brows and a frown tugging at your lips. “I fucking needed you, and I just wanted to be with you, and I was scared, so I snapped at you thinking— I don’t know what I was thinking… Maybe-maybe if you knew we wouldn’t be together, then you wouldn’t go? Fuck, I just wanted you to stay with me,” she was rambling, words quick and spilling out until she caught herself, “and everyone else. Where you were safe. Where we were all safe. Together. I didn't mean to push you away.”

You had no idea what to say, staring up at the ceiling with a frown as your eyes shone beneath the warm light. You were quiet, voice small as if you knew just how wrong you were now. “I just wanted you happy,” you mumbled, hardly confident in what you used to think to yourself to justify your actions. 

“Without you?” She scoffed at you. “Really?”

You shrugged, now thinking of anything that could back you up. “You had Owen.”

There was a moment of pause before Abby laughed, grabbing your pillow and hitting you with it. “Fuck you.”

“What?!” You laughed, pushing the pillow away and covering your face as she threw it at you. “You… loved him, or whatever,” you waved off, unable to hide the disdain in your voice. 

“That’s what. You never liked us together.” You shrugged. “Why?”

You looked over at her, looking her up and down. “I don’t know.” You moved to sit up, huffing as you did and covering it with an exaggerated sigh. “You were my person.” There was a faint upward pull to her lips at that, but it fell quickly when she replayed the sentence in her head. She was your person, and you had stayed hers. After all those years; years of having your picture in her room or pocket, you had stayed close to her heart, but now she was nothing more than an old friend to you. “What?” You asked when you noticed her expression, reaching out and placing a hand on her thigh. 

She swallowed, looking down at your hand. “Did you— Did you ever…” She stumbled over her words as she stared at your hand on her, eventually looking away. “Think about us? Any of us? I mean, you, Mel, and Nora were so close…”

You waited for her to finish, but that seemed to be the end of her sentence, so you stood. You went to your dresser, hand on your lower stomach as you grimaced but made sure to hide it from Abby. You grabbed an old jewelry box, taking it in unsteady hands and carrying it back to the bed where you set it down. Around your neck, there was a leather necklace you untied and pulled from your shirt, taking the key at the end of it and unlocking the box. 

There was an old tape recorder inside. Headphones and car keys too, and a stack of photos among other trinkets.

Abby looked shocked, looking at you before reaching for the box when you nodded. The car keys, from the first time her dad taught you to drive, were tied to an old coin he’d gifted you. They were on top of an old photo of you and him in his greenhouse. 

Her hands went for the other photos, looking through them and seeing how many there were of her or the two of you. You had more of your friends than you did with them; some of these photos she’d never seen before and making her brows pull together as she smiled somberly. 

“When I was in Washington,” you spoke up quietly, looking at the pictures as Abby went through them. “Leah was on patrol when my group was leaving. I didn’t have many pictures of us together, so she gave me most of those… I guess she just had them with her.”

Abby smiled faintly. “She kept pictures of us with her all the time.” Her smile then fell again. “I thought you guys left immediately?” 

You pursed your lips. “I needed a little extra medical attention before we could leave. She found our hiding spot.” You quickly continued before she could question you. “So I told her about how I lost one of my only pictures of us and my other tape recordings, and she just gave them to me.”

“Of us?” She looked up at you and you nodded. Abby went into her pocket, fingers digging for a wrinkled piece of paper. “I don’t have the recording with me; it's in my room, but… ” she muttered, pulling out the photo and smoothing over the water damaged paper before she handed it to you. “It’s a little ruined.”

“You had this?!” You took it, looking down at the picture and feeling your eyes burn before you moved to hug her, arms squeezing around her shoulders. “You don’t know how bad I felt about losing this, Abby.”

Her hands found your hips, awkwardly pulling you into her before her arms went around your waist to comfort you with how emotional you were getting over one picture. “It’s okay,” she tried to soothe, hand running up and down your back. “I’m glad you lost it. I finally got to keep a picture of us,” she laughed awkwardly, leaning back against your bedframe with you still in her arms. She knew you were trying to hide your face from her, so she let you stay as you were. “I actually thought you just left it behind.”

“What?” You laughed, pulling back to frown at her. She smiled at your laugh, hands still resting on your waist in case you hugged her again. 

“I found it by the fire after you left.” She shrugged. “It was with your MP3.”

“So, what? You laughed again. “You thought I was burning pictures?”

“I don’t know, maybe?” She laughed, releasing you as you sat next to her with an eye roll. 

Usually, you’d lean into her, or rest your head on her shoulder when you sat next to her, but now things were so different that you couldn’t just bounce back into old habits.

Every touch, every word, every glance, it was all based on feeling; some feeling that was brought up by the past before that fleeting feeling passed too, and soon, Abby was starting to realize you’d become complete strangers to one another. You hardly understood each other anymore. You weren’t certain how the other would react, or reciprocate, you didn’t even know what could be said at times. Even if you could reminisce for hours, when it came to talking and being present, there was hardly anything you could do. 

It left Abby forgetting your advice and wishing she could go back to do this all over again; forget about finding Joel first and just find you. Or just go with you to California and spend the years like you did. No matter how much she wanted to go find him. No matter how much she would have regretted it. 

At least you wouldn’t be a stranger to her. 

Though, she had no idea how those years were for you. She didn’t know the hell you’d gone through, or the sleepless nights. No matter how much you told her that night, you didn’t tell her how you made yourself sick with guilt to the point that you had to lock all of your keepsakes away. Especially because you thought you’d lost one. She didn’t know how hard you worked to accept everything that happened, how seeing them after four years caused a rift between you and your squad to the point that they were telling you just to stay in Washington, how her showing up completely threw you off guard. 

But maybe that was for the best. 

Because that night, while she was wide awake, thinking of how she could find a way to know you again, you slept soundly. Sleeping through the night for once as you lied with the picture Abby left with you under your pillow.

The next morning, Abby came to the greenhouse. You smiled when you saw her, setting aside your plants to give her your full attention. 

“Hey.” She smiled. “I’m going on my first patrol—“

“Already?” Your worried tone made her chuckle. “Ab, you’re still recovering.“

“I know, but I need to get back out there. I’ll go crazy if I don’t.” You grimaced, crossing your arms. “I was wondering if you’d go with me? It’s just around the island, so no combat.” You narrowed your eyes, wondering why she’d bring that up. “It’ll be quick,” she continued to try and persuade you. 

“I don’t go on patrols anymore,” you told her, replacing your questioning glare with a sympathetic smile. “Sorry.”

“Oh…” She didn't ask why, just nodded before reaching into her pocket. “Okay, well, I brought this with me to give back to you—“

“No, no, no. Keep it.” You took her photo out of your pocket and handed it over. “I’m sure you’ve realized these go together now. You’ve had them for years. Please.”

The way you spoke to her, so cordially it seemed formal, made her feel uncomfortable in a way she couldn’t describe. She gladly kept the items, thankful you hadn’t, but also wishing you at least seemed to want them. 

“Maybe…” You looked around, all of your morning duties done for now. “Maybe I could go with you just this once,” you suggested upon seeing the look on her face. 

But she didn’t want you to placate her. 

“That’s alright.”

“You sure?” You frowned at the sudden change in tune.

“I’m sure there’s a reason you don’t go anymore.” She gave you a smile and you nodded. 

After that day, you didn’t speak much. Lev would come for lessons, and Abby would have to get him sometimes, but slowly, she just faded into another one of your comrades; people you knew but had no relationship with. People who hardly crossed your mind on a day-to-day basis. 

She overheard you with one you were closer to— one of your new friends. 

“So,” she started, “you know that new girl?” She asked as Abby passed by the greenhouse on her way out to patrol. She planned to get a pouch from you, but paused to eavesdrop. “I heard she’s from Salt Lake.”

You’d hummed. “We grew up together… But I don’t really know her anymore,” you’d admitted quietly, solemn. 

Your friend huffed a laugh. “You’re so dramatic. What’s that supposed to mean, huh?”

You chuckled. “I dunno, just… Ya know, when I did know her, she was the best person I ever met. So gentle… kind. She had a way with animals— people, too. I don’t know, she was always so perfect to me when we were younger. I probably had a little crush on her or something.” Your friend cooed at you. “But as we grew up, we were, just, so close. Her dad just took me in like family after mine was… taken.”  She could hear your voice falter. “But when he was killed, things changed… Remember that tip I gave in Washington? ‘Bout Tommy.” Your friend hummed. “His brother, Joel. He was the one to kill him, and Abby… She beat him to death. In front of his brother… In front of his kid.” 

She could hear the way you struggled to get the words out, biting her inner cheek. She wanted to leave, but she also wanted to know what else you’d say, waiting for you to continue. 

“And I don’t even blame her. It makes me sick, but I don’t blame her ‘cause if I ever found out who destroyed my family?” Your voice darkened. “I’d do so much worse.” 

“No need to justify to me,” your friend huffed, humming in agreement. “I know exactly what you mean.”

There was a pause before you spoke again “And sometimes, I wish I’d been there to see it through. To know that he’s actually dead… Or, even just to be there for her— ‘cause the girl that I knew? She never could’ve done that. I never would’ve let her get to that point; feel that way? Hurt that much but… I left her.” Your friend tried to speak over you, but you stopped her. “So, I can’t help but feel at fault for what happened to our friends. I don’t know anyone who would still want to care about me after what I did. So, I just feel like I don’t know her anymore. I can’t understand her at all.”

Abby thought of talking to you that night, telling you she overheard the conversation, but she couldn’t bring herself to face you knowing how guilty you felt. 

What if seeing her made you feel worse? Talking to her made you feel sick? She’d spent all these years feeling guilty, only to find out you felt the same— and now even more so because you knew how she ended up here. Like this. 

She could say the same thing about you. She thought you were perfect when you were younger, she wanted to protect you as you got older, and she felt like she failed you now. Like it was her fault you felt this way. She could say the exact same things you did, which was why she kept her distance and waited for you to come to her. 

She waited. 

And waited. 

[tessatales]

The Sins of the Winter Soldier Chapter 4

Pairing: Bucky x female Reader

Warnings: brief mention of seizures! Generally uncomfortable chapter for anyone who doesn’t like shouting/feeling trapped etc. mention of retrained and bruising.

Theme: slow burn romance.

A/N: Hey! I hope you enjoy this chapter yall! I’m really enjoying writing it honestly. I walk to work and have to write ideas down for the next chapters as I walk lol. Find Chapter 1 here

Tags: @scott-loki-barnes @kandis-mom @identity2212

Chapter 4

“What the hell were you thinking Y/N!” Tony shouted, his voice reverberating around the room as he stared you down. Sinking further into your seat, you continued your vow of silence as you felt the eyes of the team study and judge you one by one.

You’d been unceremoniously woken up and practically dragged to the meeting room roughly 2 hours after you’d returned from the Pit, your eyes heavy and your brain foggy with the lack of sleep. The tiredness had quickly left you once you’d realised what you were being brought in for.

They knew.

“Tony-”

“Don’t Tony me Natasha, you’re just as pissed as I am about this whole situation so don’t pretend you’re not!” Tony interrupted, swiftly shutting the Widow down. You continued to stared at the table in front of you, your fingers fiddling with the buttons of the flannel shirt you’d fallen asleep in. When fidgeting failed to keep your breathing steady, you searched for the door, using your fight or flight instincts to somehow ground yourself.

The door was shut.

Since being rescued, you’d expressed your need to keep the doors open wherever you went. You’d been used to cells and cages for years, so like many other things, closed doors had become the enemy.

“You are a wanted asset by Hydra! So what do you do? Go and hang out with their best assassin! Honestly kid I can’t believe you’ve been so reckless!” Tony continued, the vein in his head throbbing slightly as he turned away from you to face the window.

You felt your breathing start to shallow and your hearing become tinny and muted as you began to panic. Everything in the room becoming not quite real as your anxiety began to take hold. The now familiar sensation of your power trickled up your body like a snake ready to constrict it’s pray. You stare at the door again, willing it to spring open so you didn’t feel so suffocated.

He knows I need the door open and he’s closed it. You thought as you tried to calm yourself down. The room going silent as you realised your skin had begun to shimmer with light.

“Tony stop shouting at her” Nat seemed to say, standing from the table to turn the genius around to face you. You couldn’t hear them anymore, just the roar of your blood and the crackle of your magic in your ears. But you knew his words had faltered when you watched his mouth go slack.

With a bang the door flew open. The glass groaned loudly as Bruce barged it open. You could tell he’d been running from his appearance; with his shirt askew and his breathing heavy as he held the door open wide.

“Y/N. You can leave, I’ll find you later okay?” Bruce said calmly as he steadied his breathing. His face setting into an angry scowl as he looked at Tony.

With the door open, you felt as if all three air has been put back in the room and you gulped at it greedily as you bolted for freedom. You barely looked back as you raced out of the room, your legs carrying you away without command.

Free free free free free

*Bruce POV*

“How long has the door been closed!” Nat exclaimed, waving her hand in the doors direction. Tony gaped, fishlike as he seemed to come crashing back to reality.

“I- I must of shut it without realising when I came it.” Tony said finally, falling into Y/N’s recently vacated seat as his adrenaline seemed to leave him. Bruce watched as his friend’s gaze lingered on the now empty corridor, the guilt in his eyes multiplying by the second.

“Yeah, you were so much of a hot head you forgot one of her most important rules. What did I say about talking to her about going to the Pit?” Bruce said with anger, his hands sweeping in the direction Y/N had run. Tony stared blankly for a moment, the rest of the team now looking between the two scientists.

“Tony had a right to be angry Bruce” Steve said as he came to Tony’s defence. There was no conviction in Steve’s voice as he said it, knowing he probably felt just as guilty as Tony now the situation was over.

“Not when she got him to speak.” Bruce countered, staring each team member down.

“You didn’t give me chance to tell you the full story. Just heard me say she’d been down there and boom you’re off the rails like an angry dad finding out his daughter drank for the first time.” Bruce continued, folding his arms as he looked at his fellow Avengers. They all looked away, not one of his friends able to defend their actions.

“I’m sorry” Tony said after a beat, his face ashen has he came to terms with how badly he’s messed up. Bruce scoffed, shaking his head before dropping his arms to his sides.

“It’s not me you should be apologising to. Let me go find Y/N and hopefully I can convince her that you’re not all against her.” Bruce said, striding towards the door.

“You might of shut the door Tony, but all of you sat there and judged her for something you didn’t even have the full facts too. So don’t think that he’s the only one who needs to apologise” Bruce said, turning back to his friends. As much as he loved them all, he hated having to be the level headed one. With a final look, he turned and went in search of Y/N.

*Your POV*

Bruce found you on the Pit observation deck. Your back pressed against the deck rails as you’d tucked yourself away in a corner.

When in Hydra, you’d learnt to make yourself as small as possible, at first it was to try and hide, hoping against hope you’d one day blend in with your cell walls. Afterwards it was to stop them beating you in fear of you using your power against them. You couldn’t blow them up if you were unconscious during transport.

“I’m sorry I told him you’d been down there. You’d think knowing him for years would of made me realise I should start with interesting news first, then the stuff that will piss him off” Bruce said with a small smile, coming to sit in front of you. He still looked tired from running, and you wondered to yourself why he’d done it in the first place.

Was it he feared for me, or was it the fear of me? You thought as you picked at your nails.

“I didn’t even know you were there” You replied, your face tight from crying. Bruce shrugged.

“You seemed so determined to shout at Bucky I’m not surprised you didn’t notice me.” Bruce replied, his smile broadening. You couldn’t help but give him a small smile in return.

“That’s better” Bruce said, slapping his hand against his leg in triumph.

“Now your smiling, I can tell you what Tony was meant to say to you” Bruce continued as he stood, dusting imaginary dust from his trousers before offering you a hand. You take it, wiping your face of any remaining tears as you were helped to your feet.

“And what’s that?” You ask, shoving your hands in your pyjama pockets as you began to walk beside the scientist.

“Bucky has been here nearly 8 weeks, and you’ve been seeing him…?” Bruce begins, gesturing with his hands for you to fill in the missing information. You were silent for a few steps, trying not to feel guilty as you admitted how long it had been going on.

“Every night for about 7 weeks” You admit, watching Bruce’s face for signs of disapproval. You see non, only the interested face of your friend. The lack of judgement in his eyes eased your nerve a little.

“Great, so you’ve seen him every night for a few hours each night. And you’ve already gotten him to speak.” Bruce confirms, looking at you as he clarifies. You nod, kicking your feet out as you walked.

“Right. Whereas me, Tony and the Shield team have been working with him for at least a week longer and for twice as many hours and we’ve got nothing. Not a peep.” Bruce said with an exasperated laugh.

“What are you trying to say Bruce?” You interrupt, eyeing the scientists with suspicion. His smile turned sheepish as he glanced your way.

“We want you to help up with Bucky. Be apart of his rehabilitation.” Bruce said finally, his eyes almost pleading as he looked at you.

You felt your stomach drop. The shock of the statement sending your head in a spin. You stopped walking, your feet failing you as you tried to get your head around everything.

“So I’ve just had an earful from Tony just for you to scrap it all and ask me to be apart of his rehabilitation? What about Steve? What does he think” You asked with disbelief, the frown on your face so deep you could feel it start to ache.

Bruce turned to face you, taking the final few steps backwards and he went to press the button for the lift.

“Screw Tony, his head was up his own ass just then.” Bruce said with a shrug. Although he was smiling at you, you could still see the threads of anger around his eyes. With a ding, the lift opened, and Bruce continued his backwards walk into the now open space behind him.

“And Steve will be fine with it. They all will be. I just gave them a lot to think about before coming to find you.” Bruce finished, holding his hand out to gesture for you to enter the lift. You trudged forwards, your legs feeling heavy as you approached the scientist.

Once the doors had closed, Bruce turned to you, his face sincere as he placed a hand on your shoulder.

“To be honest with you Y/N. We need your help. And the team are rather bias when it comes to you because of what you went through with Hydra. They see you as the little girl who was taken. Not the adult that stands before them now.” Bruce said with conviction, his eyes never leaving yours as the lift descended.

“Why me though? Why do you think he spoke to me?” You ask finally as you tried to work through everything that had happened in the last hour. Bruce shrugged.

“Depends what you talked about. Might be he recognised you and saw you as a fellow survivor of Hydra.” Bruce mused, facing the lift doors.

“But he sees himself as a monster, not a survivor” You counter, staring at the lift numbers as they settled on their requested floor. The Pit.

“You thought that too once, remember?” Bruce said in a low voice, his eyes soft as he glanced at you. You were about to reply when shouting from behind the lift doors caught both of your attention.

“What the..?” Bruce said as the doors opened, the pair of you practically falling through the doors to see what all the commotion was about. You zeroed in on it instantly. In the centre of the Pit cell, Bucky was being retrained by several pairs of robotic arms, his arm and legs being help down as he was strapped to a chair.

“What are they doing!” You shout, looking wildly to Bruce as you both race up to the cell. Overseeing this was Shield’s head Scientist. Dr Andrew Spellman.

“Dr Spellman what the hell are you doing? I didn’t agree to any of this!” Bruce bellowed as he got to the cell. You watched as the Dr barely glanced at Bruce, his expression blank as he continued to gaze into the cell. You felt a sick twist in your stomach as you watched the Dr stare down at Bucky, as if his shouts of pain didn’t bother him.

“The book arrived while you were away Dr Banner. I decided to take action and begin the process. Please remember, I lead this team. We are just using yours and Starks facilities.” The man said very matter of factly, his face never changing from the bored expression it wore.

You looked at Bucky again, his eyes wide and scared as he looked between the three of you before looking down at the book in Dr Spellman hand.

“What book? What’s he on about Bruce?” You ask, the fear you see in Bucky eyes spiking your adrenaline. Bruce ran his hands through his hair.

“We found it when raiding the small Hydra base in Siberia. We assumed it was where he came from when we picked him up.” Bruce explained, his breathing coming out on puffs as he tried to calm himself.

“We ended up finding a book that contained what we believed were The Winter Soldiers trigger words. We deducted than if they’re said in the right order to him it’s meant to reset him to his original Winter Soldier form.” Bruce said in a flood of words. His face strained as he tried to remain himself.

“Why the hell would you bring it here!” You half shout, exasperation and anger flooding your system. You quickly calm yourself when you see a flash of green in Bruce’s eyes. Pausing a moment, Bruce bright himself back down, his posture slumping slightly as he tamed Him.

“I wanted to study it to see if there was a way to desensitise him to the words. Make them worthless. But he’s not ready for it yet!” Bruce continued, aiming the end of his sentence at Dr Spellman.

The Doctor seemed to simply ignore him. His back to the pair of you as he opened the book. It took him a few moments to find the page, his hand skimming delicately as he found what he was after. You weren’t certain, but you were almost sure you saw glee in the older man’s eyes as he read.

“Do something!” You say, pulling on Bruce’s arm. He shakes his head in defeat.

“It’s part of the shield contract, I can’t interfere and I can’t let Him out or they lock me in a cell” Bruce replies, his voice defeated. You could see the conflict in Bruce’s eyes.

“All the Avengers had to sign it before they allowed him to be transported here” Bruce continued, seemingly to read your mind as you fiddled with your communication bracelet.

“Longing” Dr Spellman began, his voice strong as he directs it into the cell. You watched in defeat as Bucky strained in his seat, the robotic arms already leaving bloody bruises where they held him.

“Rusted” Dr Spellman continued.

“S-Stop” Bucky whimpered, his voice horse and broken. Something in you broke as you watched him tremble.

“He said stop” You whisper, your voice not quite your own. The tingle of your magic was a welcome feeling as you walked towards the scientist. He kept his back turned to you, his posture never changing as you approached.

“Go away little girl, this is no concern of yours” Spellman said dismissively, waving a hand in your direction. Mimicking the man’s movements, you watched with dull recognition as the book flew from the his hand. Coming to float above your head, your conscious brain tried to focus on the little red book as it hovered above you, but your magic fought to take over.

“I’ll say it again. He said stop” You repeated, battling the fog in your brain. Noticing Bucky’s shaking hand as he fought against the robot was enough to fight the final throw of magic. You smiled with delight as you felt the warm glow of your skin as you grasped your power for the first time.

“You can’t do this! This is against the contract! I’ll have you in a cell for this” Spellman seethed, shaking his fist at you as he tried to swipe for the book. He quickly recoiled when your magic caught his flailing arms, suspending him in the air like a rag doll on a washing line.

“I don’t think so. I’m not an Avenger. You have no signature from me.” You reply with a smile, watching as the man’s face drain of colour. You could see his terror as he realised there was no document to stop you from killing him. You looked towards Bucky then, watching as his face bounced between you and the scientist. Wondering what he saw, you focused in on your own reflection.

You looked like you were submerged in water, your hair floated around you in a halo of green and blue light as is you were adrift in the sea. Your eyes reflected the same colours, shining brightly in the reflection. Your whole body seemed to vibrate and glow with the power that coursed through your limbs. You felt strong, you instilled fear.

“Instill fear. Be ruthless. That is all you are good for loveless child”

The Hydra drill Sargent words barrelled into your chest like a punch, knocking the control you had over your power. Suddenly feeling drained, you put the man down.

“You’re fired. Consider this your last day” You whisper, watching as the man scurried away with hatred in his eyes. Dr Spellman rubbed his wrists.

“This won’t stand!” Spellman said from a safe distance away, his back straight as he tried to sound in charge. You scoffed, trying your best to hold you power as you spoke.

“I used to be Hydra once too. If you come near Bucky or this book again. I might just forget everything the Avengers taught me about holding back” You say with a smile, the threat so sickly sweet you could almost taste it. Dr Spellman blanched, his mouth agape as he stomped out of the Pit.

With the threat gone, you let go, your power coursing out of you like a waterfall. It was only when your feet touched the floor that you realised you’d been hovering just above the ground.

You had just enough control of your power left to remove the robotic arms from Bucky, each arm disintegrating as you poured your final drags of power into them. With Bucky free, you let yourself collapse.

The last thing you could see was the ex assassin as he crouched beside you on the other side of the forcefield. You tried to smile at him as you felt the pain intensify, your vision finally blacking out as you began to convulse.

A/N: Chapter 5 can be found here