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lumosou · 2 months ago

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୨୧ — The Harry Potter boys and their Love Languages ( ˆ͈̑꒳ˆ͈̑ )੭ ; 𖦹 + ♡

ꕤ — Characters ; Harry J Potter. Ron Weasley. Fred Weasley. George Weasley. Neville Longbottom. Draco Malfoy. Cedric Diggory.

ꕤ — Discretion ; none!! just fluff and love.

ꕤ — A/n ; eee i’m so sorry for disappearing for a bit ☹️. but i appreciate alll the support u guys have been showing me on all my works!! ily guys!! so here’s a fun lil treat :3 thank u endlessly 🫶🏻

; masterlist.

୨୧ — Harry J. Potter & Acts Of Service.

Harry isn’t good with words—not the ones that matter, anyway. He stumbles, stammers, gets stuck trying to say how he feels. But when it comes to showing you, there’s no hesitation. His love is found in the way he waits outside the library to walk you back to the common room, how he memorizes your favorite tea and makes sure there’s always enough sugar. It’s the way he notices when you’re too tired to finish an essay and stays up scribbling notes for you even though he’s just as exhausted.

He’s the boy who gives pieces of himself quietly, always watching, always finding the small gaps in your day where he can slip in and help without you asking. Because that’s what he needs—to feel like he’s protecting you, even from the smallest inconveniences.

Harry doesn’t say I love you in grand speeches. He says it in the way he fixes your broken quill without telling you, how he gives you the better seat at dinner, how he’d gladly carry your burdens if you let him. To him, love is action—every unspoken I’ll take care of this wrapped in the quiet hope that you’ll understand.

୨୧ — Ron Weasley & Quality Time.

Ron doesn’t need extravagant displays of affection; he just wants you. To be near you, to sit next to you, to share the little pieces of his world that make him who he is. He thrives in your presence, whether it’s laughing over a ridiculous chess match, walking the long way to class just to keep the conversation going, or sitting quietly by the fire while the hours slip by unnoticed.

Time with you is how Ron shows he cares. It’s in the way he always makes room for you—on the couch, in his day, in his life. He’ll wait for you after lessons, save you a seat at every meal, and offer you the last Chocolate Frog without hesitation. He’s happiest when you’re there, no matter what you’re doing, because your company makes everything better.

For Ron, love is in the small, stolen moments. It’s in the way he notices the things you like, the way he teases you just enough to see you smile. He doesn’t need to say it out loud—not when every minute he spends with you is his way of saying, You matter to me.

୨୧ — Fred Weasley & Physical Touch.

Fred speaks in touches—quick, fleeting, and full of mischief. A hand on your shoulder as he sneaks up behind you, a playful nudge of his elbow to make you laugh, the way his arm always ends up slung around your shoulders like it belongs there. He’s tactile in a way that feels effortless, like he can’t help himself when it comes to you.

But then there are the other touches, the ones that mean more than he ever says out loud. His hand brushing yours under the table, his fingers ghosting over your back when you’re standing close, the way he pulls you into a hug that lasts just a second longer than it should. He’s all warmth, all ease, all Fred.

With him, touch is a language of its own. It’s how he shows he’s paying attention, how he steadies you when the world feels too loud, how he reminds you that he’s there—always, without fail. He’ll twirl a strand of your hair around his finger while you’re trying to focus, just to see you roll your eyes, but his thumb will stroke gently over your knuckles when you’re quiet, reminding you that he sees more than you think.

Fred’s love is in the way he’s never far, his presence a constant, reassuring hum. Every touch, whether playful or tender, says what he won’t always put into words: I’m here. I’ve got you. You’re mine.

୨୧ — George Weasley & Acts Of Service.

George loves quietly, but he loves deeply. His affection isn’t loud or flashy—it’s in the little things, the unnoticed gestures that leave no room for doubt. He’ll stay up late helping you finish that essay, even though he’s got his own work waiting for him. He’ll charm the Gryffindor common room fire to burn just a little brighter when you’re cold, or tuck a sweet you love into your bag without a word.

With George, it’s all about thoughtfulness. He pays attention—really pays attention—to the things that make you happy. He knows your favorite snack, your favorite quill, the way you like your tea. He notices when you’ve had a rough day before you even say a word, and his first instinct is to fix it. A joke, a small gift, a ridiculous gesture—it’s all his way of saying, I’m here for you.

But his acts of service aren’t just practical—they’re personal. He’s always finding ways to make your life brighter, softer, more manageable. If you’re overwhelmed, he’ll take something off your plate without you asking. If you’re sad, he’ll make you laugh, even if it means making a fool of himself. And when you ask why he does it, he’ll shrug, his ears pink, and say, “Because I can.”

George’s love is subtle but unwavering. It’s in every thoughtful detail, every small action, every quiet I’ll take care of it that he hopes you’ll notice but never expects you to. It’s the kind of love that doesn’t demand attention—it just is.

୨୧ — Neville Longbottom & Words Of Affirmation.

Neville’s love is soft, steady, and full of reassurance. He’s the boy who sees the best in you, even when you can’t see it yourself. His words are careful, heartfelt, and impossibly earnest—he’ll tell you how brilliant you are after every small success, remind you how brave you are when you’re doubting yourself, and whisper how beautiful you look when you catch him staring.

But Neville’s words aren’t just sweet; they’re intentional. He notices the things you’re insecure about—the things you try to hide—and makes it his mission to remind you of your worth. When you’re frustrated or overwhelmed, he’s the one who tells you, It’s okay. You’ve got this. You’re stronger than you think. He believes in you wholeheartedly, and he’ll never let you forget it.

His love is in the way he writes you little notes when he’s too shy to say things out loud, the way he always manages to find the perfect compliment at the perfect moment. Neville’s words aren’t about flattery—they’re about truth. He means every single one.

With Neville, you never have to wonder how he feels. His words wrap around you like a warm hug, a constant reminder that you’re loved, cherished, and seen. To him, every You’re amazing is another way of saying, I’m so lucky to have you.

୨୧ — Draco Malfoy & Gift Giving.

Draco shows his love in the way he gives—not just things, but pieces of himself. His gifts are thoughtful, deliberate, and so carefully chosen that you can’t help but feel how much he pays attention. A rare book he tracked down because you mentioned it once, your favorite sweets neatly wrapped and waiting for you after a hard day, or an heirloom quill with a note that simply says, It reminded me of you.

It’s never about the price, though he pretends it is. He’ll roll his eyes and call it no big deal, but the way he watches your reaction gives him away every time. Because it isn’t just a gift—it’s his way of saying, I see you. I notice what makes you happy. I care.

But it’s not all material. Draco gives his time, his attention, his loyalty. He’s there when you need him, even if he doesn’t know what to say. He shows up with a coffee you didn’t ask for or slips a note into your bag that reads, Don’t forget how brilliant you are. It’s in the way he lends you his scarf when you’re cold or makes sure your favorite seat by the fire is saved.

Draco’s love is in the details, the way he always finds the perfect thing to remind you how much you mean to him. He doesn’t say I love you easily, but his gifts? They say it for him. Quietly, fiercely, and completely.

୨୧ — Cedric Diggory & Physical Touch.

Cedric’s love is quiet, steady, and impossibly warm, and it shows in the way he touches you. It’s never demanding, always gentle—a hand at the small of your back as you walk through the halls, his fingers brushing yours under the table, or the way his arm wraps around your shoulders without hesitation when you’re cold. With Cedric, touch isn’t just comfort; it’s a promise: I’m here, I’ve got you.

He’s affectionate in ways that feel effortless. He’ll press a kiss to your temple when no one’s looking, or pull you into a hug so tight it feels like he’s shielding you from the world. When you’re upset, his thumb traces slow circles over the back of your hand, grounding you. And when words fail, it’s his touch that reassures you—light, familiar, unshakable.

But it’s the little moments that matter most. The way he reaches for you instinctively, his fingers intertwining with yours like they belong there. The way his forehead leans against yours in quiet moments, his breath mingling with yours in a silent exchange of you’re everything to me. Cedric doesn’t just touch you; he anchors you.

To him, love is closeness. It’s the warmth of his body against yours, the feel of his hand in yours, and the way he’s always, always pulling you closer—because with you, he’s home.

﹙@ 𝗹𝘂𝗺𝗼𝘀𝗼𝘂 ﹚

#☆.— 𝗻𝗲𝘄 𝗼𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝗵𝗲𝗹𝗳 #harry potter #harry potter fluff #harry potter x reader #harry james potter x reader #harry potter x you #harry james potter x you #harry potter fandom #harry potter fanfiction #fred weasley x reader #george weasley x reader #ron weasley x reader #neville longbottom x reader #draco malfoy x reader #cedric x reader #.𝗵𝗱𝗰𝗮𝗻𝗼𝗻𝘀 🐻

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readychilledwine · 10 months ago

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Mine

Summary - Cassian always gets a little riled up when he gets to fight for your honor.

Warnings - Blood, smut, focus on reader and Cassian's differences physically, reader is thick because it felt right, oral (female receiving), Cassian going to pound town.

A/N - based on this post and our comments from @loneliestluvr I refuse to apologize for how quickly this became smut.

Being mated to the Lord of Bloodshed was never easy, especially as an illyrian female blessed to have found him before your wings were taken. “Sorry,” you whispered as he flinched. You had got to the cut on his eyebrow, wiping it down as gently as you could.

Cassian was covered in blood. A mix of his own and another male's who had not known you were claimed by the male sitting in front of you. “You okay?” He had his eyes shut as you took care of him, content under the feel of your soft hands.

“You're the one who ended up in a fight with 6 other males and walked away. I should be asking you that.” You gently reset and healed his nose, silently thanking the Mother for such a useful gift.

Everything about you two had been so perfectly planned. The skilled warrior. Loud, personable, quick on his feet. Then you, the talented healer. Intelligent, shy, soft spoken. You were balanced perfectly. A match truly made by the Gods. You continued wiping the blood from him, ensuring he would not have to change the water multiple times once you got him bathed and stepped away before offering him your hand.

It was another contrast between you two and Cassian's absolute favorite. Your soft manicured hands, his rough and calloused ones. He laced your fingers together, pretending to allow you to pull him up at he stood. “I'm fine, baby. You should see the other guys.” He smiled at his own joke, walking into the bathroom of the cabin. “Are you going to undress me too?”

“Absolutely.” You were graceful with buckle, each tie, gently pulling armor and fabric from his body until it sat on the vanity nearby. Habit took over as you folded it all, putting the clothing into baskets to be cleaned before turning back to the god in fae form behind you.

The moan Cassian released as he sunk into the warm water had your thighs clenching. You watched his head fall back as lavender scented steam came from the tub and as his shoulders fell in relaxation. “Can I wash your hair?” He groaned again at the thought, smiling as you sat behind him with the soap. “Need to show you my love and appreciation for protecting me.”

He gave a breathy laugh, shutting his eyes in bliss as you began massaging shampoo into his wavy locks. “I will always protect you, y/n. Always. You are mine.”

“I am,” he growled at your agreement, his need to possess you was high. Illyrians had always been more feral with their bonds, and you absolutely allowed him to enjoy the primal tendencies that came with it. “I will always be yours. In this life and the next.” You began rinsing his hair, ensuring every spec of blood and dirt was out before applying a deep conditioner.

“Lean forward so I can wash your back, Cassian.”

“I don't deserve you,” he was drifting off under your touch, enjoying the feeling of you kneading sore muscles as you lathered his scarred skin with a soft scented soap. “Could you get my wings?”

You leaned in, whispering in his ear. “I planned on getting them once I got you fully cleaned and the water changed.”

“Fuck that,” Cassian forced you over, pulling you in thin night gown and all before ripping it off of you. His lips were on yours and hungry. He was grabbing your hips, loving their plushy feel. “Want you now.”

“Cass, this water is disgusting.”

His head hit the tub with a thud. “Fine. Fine. It's fine.” He was, in fact, not fine. You could feel how hard he was. His length was pressing into your stomach. “I just need you. You know how I get when you take care of me.”

You were washing him again. Cleaning off his chest and face, scrubbing his arms. He was memorized by you by your body. He remembered learning about the Gods of old from Rhysand's mother, and you had to have been crafted by the goddess of love. It was another contrast. His rock-hard body, toned and cut from years of training. Your soft body, curves landing in all the right places, thighs so thick you genuinely worried when you sat on his face.

He lifted you with little effort when he knew he was clean, climbing out of the water with his lips attached to the point on your neck that drove you wild. “Done waiting,” he carried you to the bedroom, sucking that spot until he knew a deep purple mark would form.

He threw you down on the bed, not caring that it would soak the sheets and mattress as he watched your full breasts bounce. When he was like this, you knew you were in for a ride. Knew that headboard wouldn't be enough to keep you in place as he pounded into you over and over again, only content when he had ensured you were filled and would smell like him and sex for weeks. He was studying you like you were his prey, waiting to pounce at just the right time.

He found it as you shifted, laying down more on the pillows like the queen he knew you were. He did not bother kissing your lips again. Instead, it was him instantly pulling your legs over his shoulders and licking your already soaked core. Your hands shot to his hair, moans ripping through your throat. He was eager tonight. So damn eager.

“Cassian,” he hummed against you, looking up through hooded lust filled eyes. “Slow down.”

He shook his head, not even letting your clit out of his mouth as he did. “Baby, I'm going to cum if you don't go slower.” His brows shot up and a smirk formed. It spoke of every intention he had, you would not leave this bed, not without him carrying you.

Every flick of his tongue, every long drag, the soft kisses all had you melting further Into the mattress as your nerves came to life. Cassian was as calculated in bed as he was on a battlefield. Everything was precise, done with intention, and meant to fulfill his goal. His forearm went against your hips, locking you in place at his mercy.

He could feel every wave of pleasure from you shooting down that sacred and special bond. He could sense the moment you fell. Your fingers tightened on the sheets, your back arched, it was silence before the scream. Between your own pleasure, you could feel his pride leaking down the bond. Pride with how easily he could pull you apart with nothing more than his tongue. Pride over the way your body was so easily his.

He only pulled away when you began to whimper and push, but he was instantly crashing his lips on yours as he kicked off his pants. His forehead went to yours once you were both breathless. Those Hazel eyes you melted in the gaze of were feral and dark with desire. In one smooth motion with no warning, Cassian was inside of you with one single word, “Mine.”

There was no split second of calm before the storm, no moment to catch your breath after he took it from you. Cassian began to pound into you, hitting that perfect spot and making you see stars. Your nails dug into his chest, leaving small marks to join the littering scars and cuts from his earlier fight. “Mine,” the growl was deep, an ancient part of him almost begging for affirmation of the word.

“Yours,” you moaned out for him, back arching as your stomach tightened. “All yours.” Cassian's arm went across your back, hand roughly gripping your hips he could force you to move exactly how he wanted.

You could hardly breathe, mind lost to anything but Cassian. Your mate. Your everything. You could feel him down the bond, feel him getting closer with each squeeze and twitch of your walls. The room was thick with the scent of sex and sweat, the sound of his groans and you whispering and moaning his name like a prayer to some long forgotten God. “So fucking beautiful,” his free hand forced your head up, forcing you to watch as his cock slid in and out of your core, soaked in your essence. “Watch me fuck you. Watch me mark this pretty perfect pussy as mine.”

You couldn't help but to moan, feeling that edge approaching faster and faster with his. “Cassie.”

“Do it. Cum on my cock, baby.” He let you go limp below him, placing your head back on the pillows gently as he did. Wave after wave of need and pleasure washed over you, blinding your senses to anything but the feel of Cassian filling you as you Came around him. He fucked you through the high before finally finishing, not even bothering to pull out and opting to instead hold your hips so close to his you could not even tell where he began and you ended.

When he finally let you go, he barely caught himself before collapsing on top of you as his exhaustion hit him. You could help but place soft kissed along his face. His scarred brow and lip, his nose that you'd reset and healed so many times, his jaw. You finally sighed with one last lingering kiss directly on his full lips as he smiled. “That was faster than I hoped it would be.”

“Always is when you fuck me after fighting.”

“Always yours.”

He kissed your neck softly on the mark he made, whispering one last time. “Mine.”

General Taglist:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanagers @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho @mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @loneliestluvr @eternallyelvish @azrielsmate3 @daughterofthemoons-stuff @meritxellao @aria-chikage @hungryforbatboys @lilah-asteria @fandomrejects

#acotar #acotar x reader #cassian acotar #cassian x you #cassian x reader #cassian x y/n #cassian fic #cassian smut #cassian of illyria #lord of bloodshed

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e-nonsense · 10 months ago

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𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗗𝗨𝗖𝗛𝗘𝗦𝗦 𝗢𝗙 𝗛𝗘𝗟𝗟'𝗦 𝗞𝗜𝗧𝗖𝗛𝗘𝗡 - 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵. 𝘰𝘯𝘦

prev / next | masterlist

pairing. batfam x batsis!reader + platonic!matt murdock x batsis!reader

warnings. swearing, child neglect, mentions of an accident that makes you blind, canon/typical violence, nothing goes with comics, OOC matt murdock

wc. 1.2k

Jason had disappeared again, where to, no one knew. All that you had been told was he and Bruce had another one of their many fights, this time it had gotten physical.

You had only found out weeks after his disappearance. Having been in New York for the last two weeks.

You were amused to find out that he hadn’t actually left Gotham, instead he was sitting across from you munching down his burger, the sounds made were disgusting and you thanked whatever God out there that you couldn’t see it.

You listened with a smile as your older brother rambled on about how pissed off he was at Bruce, your unseeing eyes hidden behind a pair of tinted circular glasses.

The glasses were new, not the fact you were wearing them, just the fact that instead of them bearing the usual black tint you often wore it was now a dark purple.

Jason was the only sibling you confided in with your newest secret, a new name whispered amongst Gotham crooks and villains. He was against it at first, completely against it but when he saw you fight finally. His mind was changed.

If you learnt this much in two weeks, what could you do if you had two months. Or two years?

Jason wouldn’t this but he could see the Bruce in you, how quickly and how resilient you were becoming. Someone who could match the Batman in skill despite not having sight, he’d stick by to help you figure all that stuff out.

So for now Jason would support your decision, help you from behind the computer for now until he’d be ready to come back as Red Hood. But for now he could settle with lunch dates with his little sister during the day and helping you kick ass during the night.

“So, you going back to New York so this Murdock guy can train you more?” Jason asked with a mouth full of burger and you grimaced at the sound of his chewing.

“I might not if I’m going to be hearing your chewing in more detail from now on.” You grumbled, reaching out for your milkshake. Jason snorted in response, swallowing down his food.

“You can hear that?” He asks intrigued.

You only nodded in response, before shrugging. “‘S not much. Matt can heat heartbeats, but he said if i continue focusing and blocking out noises I don’t need to hear I’ll get there soon enough.”

Jason nodded along, you assumed by the sound of hair ruffling.

“So what can you hear so far?” He asked.

“Breathing, chewing, things far away sometimes, i can hear more sometimes and then other times i can’t hear anything at all.”

Jason hums, pausing to watch you, “you look happier.” He blurts out, “i mean compared to how you were, stashed away in the manor.”

You hide your smile behind the milkshake and Jason smiles, “I’m glad.”

———

“Breathe,” Matt instructs, hands on your shoulders. “Focus on his heartbeat, ignore mine, find him.”

Your breathing evens out, and Matt can hear your heart slow down, relaxing from your earlier training as you tried to find the heartbeat of the other man in the room. “I can’t—” you try to complain.

“Do it,” Matt repeats, “focus.”

Then you hear it, another heartbeat echoing through your ears coming from your, “left.” You mutter and Matt grins, ruffling the top of your head.

“That’s creepy,” Peter’s voice calls out, “it’s like there’s two of you now.” His footsteps get closer, stopping right in front of you.

“I should properly introduce the two of you,” Matt says. “Peter this is y/n Wayne. Kid, this is Peter Parker, he’s Spider-Man.”

"Spider-man?" You snorted, "what, were there no other names available?"

Peter groaned, crossing his arms like a pouty child. "Shut up," he grumbled.

"breaks over," Matt calls out and now its your turn to groan, all morning since you got back to New York he's been training you.

Starting with sitting silently in one place and picking out quieter sounds and now you were training to fight more.

Because no way in hell was Matt going to let you fight freely in Gotham city without further extensive training. So for now, you were getting your ass handed to you, and it sucked.

———

Bruce started at the screens in front of him, the sound of his youngest sons sparing in the background didn’t phase him, he was getting irritated with the new presence in Gotham. Some newbie calling themselves Duchess, a who had never crossed paths with him by some miracle.

actually it seemed every time Bruce arrived on scene, the Duchess just disappeared, as if she had some sixth sense for him. There was limited footage of her too, just little blurs of shitty CCTV cameras of a girl with a bandana tied around her eyes and in full black. Hands wrapped in black bandages, any distinguished features covered up, leaving the possibilities of her identity to thousands of candidates.

The only other thing Bruce had on her being her constant travel between Gotham and New York, specifically Hell’s Kitchen. But he got no leads from there, other than the Duchess being in cahoots with the Daredevil and his allies.

So, after hours of analysing footage, names and failing to hack into SHEILD’s servers, the only thing Bruce had gotten was that this Duchess being; female and lives in Gotham or New York.

“Nothing?” Dick’s voice comes from beside him, arms crossed as he leans back against the desk, sweating as he had just returned from patrol with Cass and Steph.

Bruce grunts in response and Dick takes it as a yes, “damn.” He mutters with a sigh, “well I’m heading home. I need sleep and I have work in the morning,” Dick says, stretching his arm, patting his shoulder as he heads up the stairs and out of the cave.

Was he actually heading home? No. He was off to do his own investigation about this Duchess. Hopefully he’d actually find something.

———

Navigating Gotham was easy when you had the heartbeats of the people who you want to avoid memorised. But New York? Not so easy, the streets were louder, busier, people walked around freely and not in quiet groups armed with knives to avoid being attacked.

At first the noises were overwhelming to your senses, but overtime you had learnt how to block out certain sounds, like cars, random clicking, rats, water, the unimportant things. And the noise became more bearable, you could tell the difference between human heartbeats and animal ones.

“This way,” Matt spoke, jumping over building to building with you following closely behind.

He had talked about getting you a suit made but until then the outfit you had on currently would do fine. The sounds of Peter’s webshooters were in the background, “are you sure about this? I mean she’s still new to this, taking her out on patrol might be a bad idea.” Peter spoke, trying to be a voice of reason.

“I’m sure,” Matt says his voice distorted due to the sound of an explosion in the background, the smell of smoke filling your noses.

“That can’t be good,” you mutter, nose scrunching at the smell.

“Definitely not,” Peter nods in agreement before the three of you head over towards the scene.

—tbc

#duchess au #bruce wayne x daughter!reader #matt murdock x reader #platonic batfam #batfam x reader #batsis #enzo writes [📝]

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whalesforhands · 10 months ago

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what’s yours is mine (1/?)

masterlist next

pairing: geto suguru x reader x gojo satoru

You don’t know a lot of things, and you readily admit that. What you do know, is that the friends you’ve made aren’t something you will ever regret. Until your physical body weakens and becomes nothing, you’re more than happy to give your all until you wither away.

What’s yours can be theirs, too. They’re your friends, after-all. (Omegaverse, rating may change with every update.)

“Ito Saya, reporting in for your daily broadcast. In a noteworthy shift, Omegas are increasingly finding more employment opportunities in positions of power. With a positive trend towards reduced oppression of—“

You’re averse to this sort of thing. A folly, something you can barely care about as your eyes squint at big words floating around the screen, a pretty lady holding papers and looking all serious and… Boring. TV shows are supposed to be fun, supposed to be playing that anime you had been waiting all week to see, supposed to be… Interesting so that you can feel less alone.

You definitely don’t want some silly lady on the screen talking about— Those things that you can barely understand. Why do they always talk so much? A picture could probably end their entire long spiels in seconds.

Your nose scrunches, your fingers cupping your chin like those TV characters did when they were thinking really hard. So why don’t they just use pictures? They’re more colourful and tell you stuff faster, won’t they? It’s not your fault that the TV station people are always so inefficient.

(It’s the television’s fault isn’t it? Definitely, right? Mama always did tell you it was a little old.)

Or maybe it’s because you don’t know a lot of things.

You’re 4, staring up at the glowing screen of your all too old television, sat cross-legged on the carpeted floor in this wide, wide room that was a little too empty for your liking. Your nose picks up on the scent of coffee, ears barely picking up on a clink of porcelain against a cheap wooden coaster. Mama circles things in newspapers, the gliding of her red marker against the sheet attracting your attention to the focused look in her eyes, the furrow of her brows, the way she just held that pen so elegantly…

(Your Mama is so much prettier than the lady on the TV.)

You like it when she’s focused like that, so serious-looking! This must be the pinnacle of a hard worker. Brains… And beety? Or whatever you heard some other old man on the TV used to cheer about.

So you decide you don’t wanna watch anymore, Getting up onto your small feet and barely catching yourself before you topple over, toddling over to your Mama with socks padding against the wooden floors.

You’re soon taking decisive peeks at your all too focused mother, watching over her shoulder in silence to let her focus. There should be a reason why she’s so serious, right?

Maybe it’s something fun? Something exciting? That’s why she’s so focused on it— right?

“J…Ob list…ings open…” Your eyes are narrowed, licking over your lips to wet them as you take another deep breath in. “Mini—um, ex-peer-i-sense?”

You can see the red marker coming to a halt, her sweet chuckle perhaps to humor you, to acknowledge your attempt. Patting your head when she turns her head around, and a smile upon her face as she smooths over the fabric of her skirt, as you feel yourself being lifted and plopped gently into the warm confines of her lap.

“That was a nice try, sweetie.” Her eyes meet yours when you take the decisive move to lean back, a ruffle of your hair and your quiet giggle as the short relief of her attention leaves you, though not without sating your curiosity. “Mama’s looking for a job.”

You know what that is. It’s for adults to make money, disappear for hours in a day and only come back super, super late at night.

(You think your father had one. Or… Did he really?)

And it means they spend all that time in a place nowhere close to their home or cute, adorable, obedient daughters either.

“Does that mean you can’t stay home with me anymore, Mama?” You’re still leaning back into her chest, staring up at her chin from your position as you bring yourself impossibly closer to her, the calm smell of vanilla and honey in your nostrils making you all warm and fuzzy, calm and happy.

(You always liked it when she smelled like this.)

“Maybe, sweetie.” She pulls away briefly to tap the end of the marker against your nose. “But Mama will be able to buy you more delicious food,” She pauses to smile so sweetly down at you, a pinch to your cheek. “And finally get you some toys.”

Toys. You realize that you don’t have any toys. At least— You couldn’t bring any of your toys with you when your mother had so urgently scooped you up into her arms in the dead of the night, a luggage rolling behind her as your nose picks up on an urgent, intruding scent of sour milk and rotting flowers, your senses spiked with uncertainty and fear as you soundlessly drink in the last sight of your old home for those few seconds before the darkness ate it all away.

You remember boarding 1 train, 2 trains, 3 trains… You lost count after that. Only simply remembering getting pulled along, Mama’s soft whispering and cooing promises that this is for the best, that your Papa won’t be able to follow you here, that you’ll be happier than ever. You remember her scent, less rigid, less frightened but still steeped in misplaced excitement. Like a fragrant scent of calm that beckoned you to follow and imitate.

You remember living in small apartments, tiny, squeezy and virtually no space. You remember how sickly, horridly sweet Mama’s scent was, caked in perfume when she rushes out every night for her job at the local izakaya. Her uniform always a little messed up in her haste before she leaves your dinner usually already in your hands as you slurp on ramen or eat another scoop of curry rice.

She would pat your head as you offer her a bite, giving you a smile before she tells you to be good, several locks clicking into place when she closes the door behind her.

It wasn’t much, wasn’t the most fun you’ve ever had in your life, but it was comfortable. You were happy with that simple life with her. But one day, you heard jangling at the front door, you hear hurried, panicked movements, smell sour fear despite the thick odour of perfume as your Mama hurriedly slams the door shut behind her, cold sweat on her as she hugs you close, buries her face into your hair.

You don’t like it when she’s like this.

You remember a man with a scent so different from your father come knocking at your door for weeks on end, gradually changing from slow knocks to furious banging on the metal with a rough pleads begging that he won’t hurt your mother, that she was beautiful, the she was—

That’s how you ended up here now. It’s been at least a year since then. And only about a month since you moved in.

(You think. You’re not really good at telling time yet.)

“Mama, I don’t need toys.” It’s not like you don’t want them, you just don’t need them. A lesson taught to you by more pretty ladies on the TV screen, you’ve also stopped by many a toy store only to see too many zeroes on price tags, and it’s been steeled in your mind that you just don’t need them. Not when you have Mama to play together with now that she’s smiling so much more.

So you’re adamant on not wanting any.

“Is that so, darling?” You feel a mindless pinch to your cheek as she circles another paragraph of words. “Then how are you going to keep yourself from getting bored when I’m not around?”

Now that has you in a slight dilemma, your hands freezing in place from where they had been twirling with her hair. You blink once, and again when you quietly see her marker tap against the paper, as if awaiting your thoughts as your eyes start to dart all over the room.

(She makes really good points. Too good. As expected of your Mama.)

The television? No. Mama would tell you too much is bad for your eyes. The pillows you both use for your futons? No. You’ll probably dirty it and make more work for her. Your eyes silently trail over to the window, sun shining through the panes and onto the floor as a glowing thought arises.

“I can just play outside.”

——

Be careful what you wish for, as they say.

An amused chuckle from Mama as she pushes you towards the door, nimble fingers excitedly doing up the straps of your old sandals and arming you with a couple of handmade cookies, a pat on your head and parting words of;

“Don’t wander anywhere past the playground, don’t follow anyone strange, be back by sunset and make some friends.”

Maybe you shouldn’t have said that you’ll go play outside.

“Honey, I know it’s only been so long since we’ve moved here.” She’s clears her throat, a cloth being gently rubbed against your face to help get rid of any stray rice grains. “But,” She sucks in a breath, a rise and fall of her chest as you blink at her.

“Have you…” She has to take another breath in. Does she have breathing problems—

“Made any friends yet?”

Oh.

The answer is no. Your go-to counter being, ‘I don’t go outside, so how can I make any?’ as if it was the most obvious thing in the world as you give her a smile.

(This isn’t something you’re meant to be proud of.)

And all she’ll give you is winced smile, ruffling your hair and saying that there was no rush. That you’ll get your chance. That you’re the sweetest kid there was. That she has faith in you and wants you to work hard!

But it’s not like it’s as easy as your capable mother makes it sound, and not like you wanted to be out here, anyway. You think the sun is too hot, that there aren’t enough clouds, that the wind isn’t picking up enough, the cicadas are too loud, that you need water—

And that you need to stop complaining so much.

You’re kicking at the path, a long stick in your hands poking at the ground beneath you, cookies pinched between your fingers as you wander and wonder. You can make friends. Surely, you can. That’s what the the cookies are for, right?

Other kids your age should love cookies. You sure do, and you’re Mama’s number 1 fan when it comes to her baking.

(Or her… Anything, really.)

So… You know her inside out, you swear you do. You love her, she loves you, she makes good food and she wants you to make friends, come back with no cookies and a new bond forged.

(Anyone would do, right?)

But you don’t see any kids, the playground you just arrived at deserted and empty. It looks sleek, almost as if it were brand new. Dark wood and galvanized steel, it was so… Clean. So untouched. Yet nobody was here? Your shoulders slump forwards in mild disappointment, yet your heart thrills at the thought of being able to have the whole place to yourself. Alone.

Well, choosers can’t be beggars… Or was it the other way around? Either way, it’s not like Mama would know if you ate them both yourself.

——

So you find yourself sat down comfortably within the top of the little hut housing the slide, your feet splayed out in front of you as you prepare to take a bite. You feel the straps of your sandals relax against your feet, a slight breeze picking up despite the shade you had hidden under. Perfect. This was perfect—

“Are those cookies?”

You can feel your shoulders jump in shock, fear pulling at your heartstrings and a startle nearly making you drop your precious dessert. So much for a peaceful time. You have to physically lurch yourself back before any harm was done to your food. Just who do they think they are? To just come up to you and—

A flurry of white snow and icicles of frost. But you’re pretty sure the summer heat is still beating down, the cicadas are still singing, and there wasn’t a cloud in sight. Yet the one before you defies all of that. He had an aura about him, a commanding curiosity. And he does definitely—

“Look weird.”

His eyes widen for just that fraction of a second, before he furrows his brows, the long sleeves of the firefly kimono swaying when he crosses his arms in rebuttal.

“You’re weirder.”

You blink maybe twice. Once in surprise, and the other to really blink back into reality. He must’ve heard your thoughts.

“I didn’t. Ya just said it out loud, weirdo.”

Oh. You have to say your sorries, then. Mama didn’t raise you to be rude.

“This is my playground.” Your eyes catch a glimmer of the wara zori his feet donned. They were too neat, too well put together. “Nobody else is allowed in.” His tone sounds so proper, his pronunciation so abnormally clear, especially for someone who looks your age.

“Oh.” You didn’t know that. Though to be fair, you don’t know a lot of things. “Sorry. I didn’t know playgrounds can be owned…”

“That’s only for poor people.” You hear the tap of his shoes against pressure treated wood. “If more people were like me, they’d have their own playgrounds too.”

“Oh. Sorry then.” You really are. You just thought playgrounds were a place for every kid…

“S’that all you can say?” You can see the shine of iridescent blue, making use of his standing height to belittle and threaten your sitting position. He makes himself look big, makes the glimmer in his eye turn into one of malice and impatience. It twists his features, turns them into something rugged and rough and uncomfortable.

And you think it’s such a waste of the cute face he has.

“Sorry.” To his Mama who gave him such a nice looking profile, and to him, you guess. You don’t really know if you should be apologizing, don’t really know if what you’re doing is right.

(But apologising has always worked. It felt right to you.)

And you think he’s satisfied now.

He harrumphs, unfolding his hands. “Some old lady put me on a sweets ban.” He settles down next to you, pushing you aside to make space for himself as he plops down, and you notice the shifting of the pretty blue fabric he donned matching perfectly with the crystal blue of his eyes. You notice the print quality being one so clear and vivid, despite the simple design. That’s a really nice kimono. “So I can’t eat anymore for the rest of the month.”

(He really is cute.)

“But since you’re trespassing on my playground,” He holds a dainty, porcelain hand out, a small twitch of his fingers that itch for your compliance. “I’m charging you cookies for it.” He’s smiling now. A proud, smug grin with the upturn of his eyes into crescents.

”It’s okay for me to eat ‘em cause it’s tax.”

He’s kind of irritating, but… Anyone would do, right?

You swallow the lump you weren’t aware of in your throat, the sweat that you didn’t know that was starting to form on your hand. You think you have an idea. A good one, at that.

“Okay,” You produce the other packaging. “But you have to promise to be my friend.”

Now it’s his turn to blink at you in utter confusion.

“Are you—“ His eyebrows furrow deeper than before, his smile dissipating into this confused frown. His eyes scrutinize and watch you closely, as if he was scouring your every breath, your every movement to uncover something that just wasn’t there.

“Being serious?”

Why… Wouldn’t you be? The way you just blink back at him, waiting on him to continue only to be met with glaring silence… Is there something on your face? Is there a bug you didn’t see crawling in your hair?

Or maybe he just wants the cookie.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Your hand is warm as they grip his wrist, gently dropping the wrinkled plastic onto his hand with a tilt of your head and eyes that flick up to meet his. It’s innocent, genuine, even. Frightfully so. The way you smile with nothing else, the way your intent was shown upon your very sleeve.

Nothing. He garners absolutely nothing from you. Your hands feel too warm, the chocolate chips within the cookie already look like they were melting, sweat is starting to stick your hair to your skin— And he thinks it doesn’t get anymore real than this.

“Okay.”

Oh, good. He agreed. You have a friend now, and it makes your heart squeeze with just that bit of excitement, of joy. It felt like you were swinging too high off the ground, felt like you were going to be swept off your feet.

It felt good. Maybe you should make more friends.

“Do the thing with me.” His pinky is held out, pushed into your face. “Ya gotta promise me something too. That’s how promises work.”

Is that how it works? You didn’t know that either.

“Yeah.” It isn’t. “That’s how it works here, you dunno that cause you’re new.”

Well… Okay then. “What’s the promise?”

You see his lips curl up, his eyes sparkling with something unknown as you begin to stick your own pinky out. “You’re already my friend, right?”

You nod.

“Good.” There’s a smugness to his face now. “So you can’t be friends with other kids from this neighbourhood. That’s betrayal to me.”

You catch a whiff of something spicy, hot. As if it were burning you to the very edges of your body— Before it disappears completely, as if it were never there. He makes sense, to you at least, and it sounds… Fair enough, you guess.

Your pinky wraps tight around his, in spite of how foreboding and suffocating his hold feels. Your nose picks up on the scent of fabric cleaner, the scent of summer weighing heavy on your nose in this moment. You see blue and white, see oranges and pink light starting to envelop his hand from where the sun had begun to set, making his hand glow as your promise becomes sealed in this very moment forward.

“Hey,” His eyes still don’t leave the way your fingers were intertwined with each other. “Which house do you live in?”

(“I’m forgiven for coming in here without permission, right?” Your hands are stained with sticky chocolate that you’re trying to dab off with your dry handkerchief, bits of crumbs littering your lips.

“Ya can come here whenever you want now.” He wipes the remnants of soft biscuit and gooey chocolate off with a dismissive sleeve.

“That’s such a waste of a pretty kimono…”)

——

Even when your pinkies have lost their binding to each other, you still find his hand holding onto yours, adamant on them being intertwined as he huffs in annoyance at your stare.

“I’m only leadin’ ya back cause I wanna see your house.”

You give him that owlish stare again. The blank one that looks like you don’t have a thought passing through your head at all. “Okay,” You smile again.

“What’s your name, by the way?”

It’s a dismissive question, one that had only just occurred to you. You’re far more interested in watching the way the sun casted your shadows together on the concrete pavement, how your silhouettes gave you a sense of weird unity. Having a friend feels really nice, you think.

You take a glance at him when he takes too long to reply, catching an icy cold gaze that contrasted the warmth of your hands conjoined.

“You first.” Well, if he insists, you guess. It’s just your name.

“(last name) (name).” You’re pretty sure you got the pronunciation right.

“Gojo… Satoru.” You can hear him hold his breath as his name leaves his lips, his voice ever steady and confident, though with a tinge of hesitance. As if he expects something, as if he wants it to be over and done with.

It never comes. Only a confused tilt of your head as you keep staring at him like he was the crazy one in this situation.

And you can see his face change into one of disbelief, one that barely tilts over the edge of what you can only describe as ‘shocked relief’. Maybe he is as weird as he looks. Does he have some sort of weird complex? You can swear you’ve heard about it on TV before. Or maybe he just has really bad comedic timing? You can at least compliment him.

“You’re funny, Satoru-san.” Because he’s genuinely making you smile now.

“I didn’t give you permission to call me by my name.”

“Oh.” You thought friends were allowed to be on first name basis immediately. Were you wrong about friendships afterall? You stare at the ground for a little longer than needed as punishment for yourself, “Sorry, Gojo-s—“

“I didn’t give you permission to call me by my last name either.” His hand squeezes yours ever tighter in small retaliation, his face turned away from yours to hide the way he was starting to grow red with rapid embarrassment.

(You can still see the tips of his ears burning red.)

Now you’re just confused. A scratch of your head as you try to think a little bit harder.

“…do I just call you friend, then?” And you can hear him stifle a snort.

“You’re really weird.” He squeezes your palm again. “Lose the honourifics, weirdo.”

(“So, Gojo…?” You test the waters again. You see his eyes stare off to the side in thought for just that one moment before they flick back to meet your gaze.

“Satoru.”)

“My house is that one,” Your small fingers point towards the horizon, a quaint, unassuming home coming into sight. “You have to walk 3 houses down from the playground.”

You stop before the front. Trying to loosen your grip only to feel his hand tighten significantly around yours.

“Satoru.” You call his name when he’s seemingly lost in thought, his eyes staring blankly at your humble home. It almost looked as if he hasn’t seen one before. “It’s getting late.”

“Oh.” Is he copying you now?

“Don’t you need to go back home? Your Mama would be mad if you’re late, wouldn’t she?” You probe a little more in efforts to snap him out of his trance, poking at his squishy face to get his attention.

But to no avail.

He doesn’t say anything, his head only turning to the side to stare you straight in the eye as you await. You see how pinks and blues are practically reflecting off of those crystalline optics, the sky reflected in them as they shine with a certain warmth.

“Can I come by tomorrow?”

——

A small knock at your front door early into the morning, when the sun had barely risen and the skies were still painted in shades of night blue.

To be specific, it was 6:00 AM. Your Mama was startled as she sipped coffee in the kitchen, you hear her shuffling downstairs, hear the clatter of the very few kitchenware you had as you begin to stir from your sleep, your brain flaring into overdrive as you try to sniff out the air— Trying to capture whiffs of that rancid scent that you hate so much—

Nothing. Nothing but the growing smell of rotting flowers that sends jitters down your spine. It worries you, sends you into a panic as you practically trip over yourself to run downstairs, disregarding any of the instructions of hiding away in the closet like your Mama had taught you beforehand. You have to check— Have to see if she’s okay—

The door is already open.

“Is (name) home?” He’s the first to talk, eyes flicking back and forth between the slightly open door and the dim light from within your home and your sleepy mother.

Mama only blinks down at him, her phone on speed-dial to the police releasing its tense grip as her shoulders visibly slump forward. Her scent calming from the initial flare up as she opens the door just that little more to allow her full view of Gojo Satoru standing before your home accompanied solely by a pretty lady dressed in a simple kimono.

“Yes… She is—“

“Good morning, (last name)-sama.” A low bow that takes your mother by surprise. “Our young master has scheduled a playdate with your daughter for today.”

“I— Um, heard, yes. But I certainly didn’t expect it to be this early—“ Your Mama shifts in place a little uncomfortably, taking note of how the sun had yet to rise, how the street lamps were still alight.

“We apologize for the disturbance.” The servant girl swoops down into another polite bow, head low and hands holding out a neatly wrapped gift before her. “These are snacks to show our gratitude for hosting this event. Young Master Gojo was looking forward to this arrangement, and had made preparations to come as early as possible.”

What an… Interesting child.

“As I am not allowed to accompany him inside due to his request, please also take this number with you, (last name)-sama. Do not hesitate to call us if anything arises. I will arrive to pick him up when he wishes to go.”

“Ah, um… Thank you…” The box feels heavy in your Mama’s hands as you tug on her pajamas from behind, peeking out slightly once you hear the door close.

“Gojo-kun… Was it?” She has to blink a few times to really get a good look at the snowy-haired boy.

“How did you say your friend looked again?” She’s picking up a dumpling with her chopsticks, gently laying the food onto your plate as you continue to chew in humming delight.

Your training chopsticks are clacking against each other as you smile up at her, all toothy grin and happy glow.

“He’s really cute.”

She figures it checks out, the doll-like, porcelain features of his face, the shiny blue eyes and his silky looking hair. He doesn’t say anything, furrowed brows and curiosity in his eyes as he scrutinizes her too, the air starting to still just that little bit when he nods at her in greeting.

As if he was acknowledging her… And as if he didn’t know how else to react.

“It’s nice to meet you.” She leans down to shake his hand, noticing the softness of his skin, the grip of his hand. “And thank you for the gift.”

You pop out from hiding behind your Mama’s legs, blinking at how his clothing had switched from the pretty kimono yesterday— To a simple shirt and shorts.

“Satoru.” You smile only slightly, your voice dimmed with the raspiness of just waking up, waving your hand in greeting. “You’re not wearing your pretty clothes anymore.”

Mama watches, watches how his gaze had been fixated on you the moment you appeared, how he’s waiting—

“I’ll leave you both to it, then.” A ruffle of your hair as you let out a quiet giggle. “Make sure to wash up and brush your teeth.”

“Okay.”

And when she’s out of sight, her footsteps disappearing down the hallway— He starts to speak more.

“Your house is tiny.” Small. Inferior. Almost unlivable. He swears he’s seen servant quarters bigger than this as he kicks his sneakers off by the genkan, dusting himself of imaginary dust as he climbs up the step, his hand somehow finding yours with almost scary accuracy.

Is it? You always felt that it was too big. Always having too much space that you didn’t know what to do with.

“I think it’s nice.” You can feel yourself squeezing his palm with gentle self-assurance, leading him up the stairs and into the bedroom where your futon still laid upon the ground messily.

He sees darkness, hears the soft pads of your socks against tatami mats. Smells the faintest scent of honey within this room.

He stares. Silently, quietly. At the hadakake of your futon, at the thinner blanket that your Mama had taken out to deal with the sweltering heat of summer, at the overall state of the room.

“Are you poor?” You blink at him when he lays down next to you on his side, the softness of the bedding making your body feel heavy and sleepy, feeling a bit too lazy to want to keep the comfy sheets away.

“No.” Your whisper is quiet, soft. As if you were slowly fading away into sleep. “I have enough.” And he knows you’re telling the truth when you just give him a sleepy smile, a yawn escaping your lips as you cuddle against your pillow, eyes losing focus and turning the sight of your friend into a bleary blue and white.

”So I’m happy with just this.”

And he thinks you’ve really gone crazy.

“Good morning, Satoru…” Because you’re pretty sure you have yet to say it, as weird as it is when you’re in the midst of falling asleep.

“…morning.”

He’s fun to be around.

——

A couple weeks have passed, the same days of Satoru coming around to knock at your door too early in the morning, your sleep-deprived Mama getting the door and letting him in—

Only to end with both you and him sleeping in on your futon until early afternoon, when you both awaken only to play… Whatever, really. The playground, drawing at home, building pillow forts…

Mama tells you she doesn’t mind if he wants to come over, doesn’t mind if Satoru wants to play with you so often when she’s off to work. She tells you what really matters is what you want, that its up to you if you want him to come over this often, that it’s your choice to play with him.

(Mama described him once as ‘clingy’. You don’t know what that means, but you think it’s good. You have a friend. Your only friend.)

So you told him to only come once every 2 days, that you think too much interaction may ruin your alone time with Mama… Only to be met with a pout and eyes that teetered almost on watery even as you pat his head and apologise.

He still listened to you, though. Despite the glare to the side and the very evident pout on his face everytime he realises he doesn’t get to see you the next day—

Though, as of recently, Satoru had been the last thing on your mind. Your eyes taking interest in and stuck onto the house next door instead. It’s always been empty, more barren than your own. But it’s gotten ‘renovated’ as your Mama said, the walls losing their dull shade and obtaining a new shine, the boarded windows replaced with shiny, clear glass.

It looked really nice.

“Stop staring at the ugly house and look at me insteaddddddd!” Ever selfish, ever vying and whining for you to give him your undivided attention.

“(nameeeeeeeeeeee).”

“It’s not ugly, though.” You think it looks quaint, looks prettier than your own. “It looks pretty.” You’re curious what kind of people are gonna live there. Are they gonna be an old couple like how Satoru always claims? Maybe it’ll be a nice middle aged lady who likes to share her pickled vegetable dishes?

You just hope they’re nice.

“How much do you think it costs to rent-uh-vate?” Your stare is still pointed at the house next door, your window directly facing one of their rooms as you stare with curious intensity.

He narrows his eyes at the view of the empty rooms, the windows that still lacked curtains and the blank white of their freshly painted walls.

“Not much, I’m pretty sure.”

Probably not much in his terms, anyway.

“Mama said she thinks they’re gonna move in today.”

“Really? Then let’s watch ‘em later then.” He lets out a huff as he rolls around your floor, watching you settle down cross-legged next to him as he makes a grab for you. “I don’t wanna play at the playground t’day.”

“Oh. Okay then, let’s play the cards you brought then—“ Your words die on your lips, body reeling back to the window at the telltale beep of a horn, the loud rumbling of a truck starting to pull into the street just mere meters away from you.

And that has the both of you clambering up to the window, his hand holding yours to ensure you don’t fall as you both squeeze to stand on the same stool, hands pressed up against the glass as your cheeks squish against each other in hopes of getting a view of what these people will look like.

“If it’s not an old couple, can we play on the swing today?”

“Y’er on.”

Your eyes watch the dark blue Toyota pull in close behind, your heart starting to race in palpitating beats that make you think you’re gonna be sick.

“Looks cheap.” Satoru’s still as snarky as ever.

The passenger door swings open, mesmerizing you with the sight of someone new, someone unfamiliar; a stranger that you’ve never seen before. Your gaze is stuck, unable to leave the features that capture your mind first—

Black hair and purple eyes.

masterlist next

#jjk x reader #gojo satoru x reader #geto suguru x reader #satosugu x reader #gojo x reader #geto x reader

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whatever-lmaoo · 6 months ago

Text

Sweet Life Of Mine

Summary: Life works in mysterious ways and Bucky would go through it all again if it meant he’d get to experience the rest of it with you.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x curvy!reader

CW: fluff, a bit of teasing, flashbacks are italicized and thoughts are in bold and italicized[2.4k]

A/N: As always the cute line dividers were made by @firefly-graphics 🌸 I’ve decided to turn this into a two-parter 🙂‍↔️ Special recognition to @buckys-wintersoldier without her encouragement I probably would’ve trashed this fic early on in the process😂 and @targaryenvampireslayer for listening to me yap and helping me come up with ideas when I would get stuck😍I am so thankful for both of them and y’all should check out their works because they are wonderful!!!💖 With that being said this fic has grown on me a lot and I hope y’all enjoy it as much as I do🥹 Dialogue is not my strong suite so I apologize if any of the lines sound corny🤧 I don’t give anyone permission to copy, translate or repost my works on here or other sites😊 Comments and constructive feedback is always appreciated!!

Bucky absentmindedly breaks down the last few cardboard boxes, taking in your newly furnished living room. Photos of you and your respective families are scattered along the walls and on top of your antique furniture. Plants strategically placed around the room and the gorgeous lamps you picked out created a welcoming atmosphere.

He throws the last box on top of his makeshift pile, wondering how all of the broken roads of his life led him to this moment, how he got his dream girl, a woman who accepted him with his baggage and loved the parts of him that he deemed unpleasant, physically and mentally. It all felt so surreal to him.

As the time grew closer for the wedding to start, Bucky couldn’t help but pace his dressing room floor. He occasionally looked in the mirror to fix his hair or wipe his face with another paper towel before throwing it away in the almost-filled trash can. He felt like his throat was constricted and began fidgeting with his tie. Eventually, he gave up and hunched over a table, trying to remind himself that everything was okay.

The weight of a hand rubbing his back, slowly grounded him for a moment. Steve’s voice sounded muffled in his ears but grew clearer as Bucky took in deeper breaths and continued to focus on the circular motion of Steve’s movements. “Buck, do you want me to get her for you?” The small “please” he lets out is all it takes for Steve to rush to your room.

Bucky stood up and grabbed a bottle of water from on top of a dresser. He was almost finished with it when a soft knock caught his attention.

“Baby?” You say opening the door slightly and sticking your hand through the gap. A clammy palm rests on yours as you massage his knuckles with your thumb, imprinting your touch in his mind, a silent reminder that you’ll always be there when he needs you.

“You ready to be stuck with me for life, Hotshot?” You tease, grinning as you hear him let out a quiet laugh.

"I should be asking you that, Gorgeous,” he breathes. “I don’t think I’ve ever been more ready for something than I am at the thought of marrying you. I’m just worried that I’ll somehow mess this up or this is one big dream. I’m afraid that at any second I’ll wake up in a cold sweat and find myself sitting on that old apartment floor, where instead of hearing that lovely voice of yours, it’ll be the older lady next door yelling because she muted her TV again or the loud honks from angry New Yorkers." He rests his head against the door and clutches the doorknob with his metal hand.

“Can you feel that, Bubba?” you say, placing his hand on your chest, feeling the rapid rhythm of your heart beating against his fingertips. “My heart beats like this when I see or listen to you. When I think about being able to wear your ring on my finger, taking your last name, and one day being the mother of your children. My heart beats for you, Bucky, and that's one of the realest feelings I've ever experienced.”One thing Bucky loves about you is you’ve never judged him for expressing his fears, and you’re always there to support him when his insecurities eat away at his progress.

He can hear Natasha's distant voice calling for you and smiles softly.

“I’ve got to head back for last-minute touch-ups, but I’ll see you at the end of the aisle, right?” You reach for his hand on your chest, gently kissing his palm before reconnecting your hands together.

“I’ll be there waiting for you. I love you, Gorgeous.” He squeezes your hand, running his thumb over your fingers.

“I love you too, Hotshot.” And with that, you slip your hand from his loose grip and through the door, your hurried steps echoing in the hall. Steve enters a moment later, noticing that the previous tension in Bucky’s body has almost completely disappeared.

“Let’s go make you a married man, Buck.”

“What are we waiting for, punk,” Bucky says, slapping him on the back playfully, laughing with each other as they walk out of the room, ready to make his dreams come true.

“Hey Gorgeous, I’ve got a question for you.” Bucky groans out as he starts straightening up his mess.

“Ask away, Hotshot.” You utter, your voice resounding slightly in the foyer as you hang up a picture of the two of you on your wedding night.

Humming along to the soft music from the living room while admiring how Bucky’s skin glowed under the golden hues from the sparklers your friends and family surrounded the two of you with. You can still feel the love radiating from him just by looking at his tender smile and remembering how his deep blue eyes twinkled with fondness as he gazed at you with his arms wrapped around your waist.

“How do you feel about going on a date tomorrow?” You smile at the steady sound of footsteps approaching you. A pair of hands enclose your wide hips, and Bucky’s chin rests on your shoulder as he inhales the pleasant scent of your perfume.

“I would love to go on a date with you, Bubs.” The warmth of his breath sends a shiver through your body, and you can feel your cheeks heating up as he places a sweet kiss below your ear.

“Where are you going to take me?” You ask, grabbing his hands and placing them on your plush belly, leaning back in his embrace.

“Let’s see, I could take you to the movies, an amusement park, or maybe a pumpkin patch. The possibilities are endless.” You hear his grin before you see it, turning your head towards him.

“You’re not going to tell me, are you?” A pout forms on your face, and you twist in his arms as he straightens up, clasping your hands together behind his neck.

“You would be correct, Gorgeous,” he says, smirking and pecking your lips. You hope he didn’t notice the slight widening of your eyes as an idea popped into your head.

“How am I supposed to know what to wear if I don’t know where we’re going?” You ask sweetly, letting your fingertips play with the soft hair at the nape of his neck.

“I’ll pick out something for you.” Your head tilts and eyebrows raise in amusement.

“You…are going to choose what I wear?” Bucky rolls his eyes and licks his lower lip in thought.

“Are you questioning my fashion sense, Doll? If I remember correctly, you wear my clothes more than I do.” His hands slip down to the top of your ass drawing your body in even closer, and you roll your eyes this time.

“You’ve never put together an outfit for me before, and I like wearing your clothes because they’re comfortable and smell like you.”

“Don’t want that pretty little head of yours worrying about a thing tomorrow. And I’m not complaining; they look better on you than on me. You make anything you wear look amazing, especially when it's in white.” A warm smile is plastered across his face, his eyes darting up to the photo behind you, another memory from the best day of his life playing in his mind like an old film.

“Do I look alright? Am I beginning to smell?” Bucky questions Steve and Sam as he tries to smoothen out his already-perfect suit jacket. The chattering from the guests did little to calm his nerves.

“You’re lookin’ snazzy, Bucknasty,” Sam says, giving Bucky a lighthearted slap on his ass.

"You look great, Buck." Steve wraps his arms around Bucky, bringing him into a tight hug. "I'm proud of you, man." He whispers, giving Bucky a brotherly kiss on the side of his head and a pat on his back as he lets go. He thanks the both of them before turning back around, eyes scanning the crowd as he tries to grasp the idea that all of these people are there for the both of you.

Bucky couldn't take his eyes off the door as the orchestra played the familiar tune of the song you chose for your entrance. After all the practices and months spent planning for this moment, nothing could prepare him for the overwhelming feeling he got when the ushers revealed your figure standing at the opposite end of him.

His bottom lip quivered, and he began to blink rapidly, but his gaze never strayed away from you. The dress you picked was beautiful, the shade of white complementing your complexion, and the way it hugged you in all the right places made you look like a goddess in his eyes.

He hadn't realized he was crying until you cupped his damp cheek in your palm, gently wiping away his tears while your own began to well in your eyes.

"Hi," you whispered through your watery smile, and it took everything in him not to crash his lips against yours.

You lightly glide your fingers down the side of his face, beaming up at him, already knowing where his train of thought took him. Gently tapping the side of his glasses, you watch as he slowly comes back to you, the affection in his eyes creating a warmth inside you that only he can ignite.

You wrap your arms around his midsection, and he kisses your temple before resting his cheek on top of your head, holding you against his body a little tighter.

“I think I look good in white too.” You say casually, a giggle escaping the two of you.

“Oh, yeah?” He says, a crooked smirk forming on his face, and you pull away slightly. A smirk of your own playing on your lips as you lean up next to his ear.

“So much so that I could be convinced to recreate the boudoir photos I gave you.” You take his earlobe between your teeth, pulling slightly, a low growl rumbles in his chest, and you do your best to keep your thighs from clenching. Bucky’s hands cup your ass as he lifts you in his arms.

“I’m sure it won’t take much to persuade you, pretty girl.” You roll your eyes at his cockiness, causing him to chuckle as he connects your lips, blindly making his way to your bedroom.

You felt a sense of tranquility despite the chilly breeze nipping at your exposed skin as you strolled through the desolate yet animated park. The sound of leaves rustling in the wind and the soft chirping of crickets fill your ears, while you watch the beautiful glow of fireflies encircling the bushes lining the pathway.

You admire the way the clear water of the pond shimmers softly in the moonlight as you take a seat on your favorite bench. Your eyes close and the tension in your body slowly fades as you allow yourself to enjoy Mother Nature and the safe feeling she provides you.

The hairs on your arms stand up as an unsettling feeling washes over you, and the squelching of grass confirms your fears of not being alone. You open your eyes, turning your head, searching for the source that disturbed your peace. Your eyes land on a figure standing at the edge of the pond.

He must have felt your stare because the next thing you know, a pair of striking blue eyes connects with yours. He watches you curiously as you assess whether he's a threat, and a ghost of a smile crosses his lips when he notices the slight drop in your shoulders before turning his gaze back to the still water.

Your lip rolls between your teeth as you consider leaving. You stand and start to walk away, but then you hear the stranger speak.

“You don’t have to leave.” He says, and you turn around after a lengthy moment of stillness, wondering if you should trust him. You observe his relaxed stance, face devoid of malice, but it's his captivating eyes that draw you in and tug at your heartstrings.

There was a silent plea within them, a look you've grown used to seeing in the mirror over the years. Hoping for someone to fill the kind of emptiness that comes with having experienced too much, even if only for a short while.

You stand in silence as a family of ducks begins to swim by. A twinge of pain surges through your chests, as you both watch the last one struggle to keep up, feeling like Mother Nature is reminding you that you were once in similar positions.

The wind grows colder, causing you to cross your arms in an attempt to conserve body heat. He notices this and starts to rid himself of his leather jacket.

“What are you doing?” You squeak out, taking a step back.

“Relax, you’re obviously cold and I wouldn’t be a gentleman if I let you stand there shivering.” You go to protest but he’s already wrapping his jacket around your arms.

“I’m not supposed to take things from strangers.” You exclaim, although, grateful for the makeshift shield against the cool weather.

“What are you? Ten? Would you feel better if I gave you my name?” He mocks and your eyes roll.

It’s always the pretty ones that are annoying.

“Oh, so you think I’m pretty?” He says, your eyes grow wide and your mouth gapes open.

I didn't mean to say that out loud.

“Fuck off. I think you’re annoying too.” He barks out a laugh at that, startling you slightly, you turn your head away from him feeling a small grin make its way to the surface.

“The name’s James, but you can call me Bucky, or pretty if that’s what you want.” He winks and you feel the heat rising to your cheeks as you tell him your name.

“Gorgeous name for an even more gorgeous girl,” he pauses as his phone goes off and a deep sigh leaves his lips when he checks the notification.

“I hate to depart like this, but duty calls.” He says backing away slowly, waving his phone in his hand. You go to give him his jacket, but he starts making a disapproving noise.

“I’m not supposed to take things from strangers, Gorgeous.” A sly smirk forms on his face before he spins around, gradually disappearing from your line of sight.

You shake your head, smiling to yourself, pulling the leather around you tighter as you begin to head back to your car, wondering if you’ll ever run into him again.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x plus size reader #bucky barnes x curvy!reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes #my writings🌸

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yuri-is-online · 11 months ago

Note

Hi I love your soulmate au, consider Ace or Deuce as soulmate but not touching each other until much later.

rules for au/prev posts can be found on my masterlist

So I could not quite tell if you meant ace x deuce or aceyuu/deuceyuu but since I am a Yuu focused blog (and you said "or... but not untill later") I am going to focus on x yuu.

I think the first potential time for them to touch Yuu is after beating the phantom at the end of the dwarf's mine. They're cheering, you're cheering, there's a half second where they scoop up Grim and swing him around and half reach for you but... hesitate. It's like everything stops for a moment before he shakes himself out of it. You're just Yuu, some magicless human he literally met today, why's he feeling so... strange about it???

I could see Ace knowing about soulbonds. His best subject is magic analysis/theory, he's far from unaware of theoretical concepts. But he's also Ace. The bratty kid who hates being seen as vulnerable, who thinks romantic things are uncool, whose way more comfortable being someone's friend than he is their boyfriend. He doesn't want a destined mate, he wants someone he can laugh with and likes being around... and he sort of hates how much you fit that description. So! Only solution he can think of is trying to bait you into making physical contact first, that way if anyone makes a big deal about this all consuming need to be close to each other it's you and not him.

Even though he's the one who proposes sharing a bed. It would have been your fault if you said yes! He's unprepared for what it feels like to get his wish, after Vil curses him to spend the night on the floor with Deuce and Grim he expects you to just abandon him to your room... but you creep back with blankets and pillows for your friends and hesitate when you go to give them to him. Slowly, so gently it makes a mockery of the searing undeniable realization that tears through him as you lay yourself next to him and lay your hand on his shoulder and rest.

While he lies there awake cursing Vil (he refuses to blame himself) for denying him the ability to hold onto you like he should.

~~~~

Deuce is different, I don't think he would be aware of soulbonds nor does he seem to believe in soulmates. I don't think he's thought much of romance at all really, so he doesn't fully understand what he's experiencing or why he's so nervous to touch you. He wants to though. Badly. It's all he can think about sometimes, he's never had a friendship this close or intimate. He really treasures you and this closeness, he doesn't want to break it. While Deuce might not know what is driving this desire, he knows that if he touches you he will understand. And that scares him, what if he breaks you with touch? What if nothing good can come from this connection, what if he is unable to let you go? He really wants you to be able to see your home again... but the thought of losing you leaves him strangely listless. Like you would be taking a part of him with you...

I don't think he ever finds the correct word for it. Maybe sometime way in the future Malleus or a professor will make him aware, but somewhere in a dream he finds it; the understanding of just what this bond means. Physically, he is unconscious in a hospital bed after failing to dodge the shards of Ramshackle Dorm's ceiling, but mentally he is wrapped in the warm, heavy sensation of his love for you. When he wakes and you aren't there he almost tears himself in half looking, and when you come back he holds you so tightly you can feel the tension shaking through his body. The only thing that soothes him is your gentle touch on his back, rubbing soothing circles into his soul as he breathes the bond between you in.

#<3 asks #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #aceyuu #ace trappola x reader #deuce spade x reader #soulbound au #yuri when it comes time to write stuff she says she will: -_- sleep #yuri when it comes time to write more aceyuu angst: 0-0 real shit

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silkmoon777 · 1 year ago

Text

Do I Make you Nervous? | Simon "Ghost" Riley

little re-upload from my AO3 :)

Synopsis: When Task Force 141 is betrayed by Philip Graves, they're forced to separate. Y\N fights her way through the foreign Las Almas with a broken radio and no sense of direction. Yet, somehow, she finds herself in the same church her lieutenant, Simon "Ghost" Riley, seeks sanctuary in. As they attempt to brave the storm sweeping through the streets, the infamously unreadable Ghost challenges their professional relationship.

Pairing: Ghost x F!141reader

Contains: fluff, kissing, use of Y/N, hint of angst but resolved in the end, vague mentions of blood/wounds

Word count: 5,874

• • • • •

It was all a set-up. A lie.

Disappointment and anger triumphs any sadness over Grave's betrayal. At first, he came across as over-confident in that stereotypical male way. Over time I had warmed up to him. But Shepherd? The man who has given me the most freedom I’ve had in a long time? I admit that my use as a weapon to him has put a strain on our companionship, but to station me with my own cousin only to lash out unprovoked? He’s crossed a line that he can never come back from. The small liking I had for the man vanished as soon as shit hit the fan. Everything seems to replay in my mind. Alejandro insulted and detained, Johnny shot at, Ghost cornered...

There were too many of them to fight off. I couldn't trust myself to hold my own with my mind worrying over Johnny, Alejandro and Ghost while also plotting Shepherd's death. So, though it pained me, I ran. Ghost and Johnny did the same.

My radio was damaged in the incident. A stray bullet flew my way, and with a stroke of luck, grazed the radio instead of my ribs. The close call was enough warning to run, which is what I do now. The lack of communication only worsens the worry.

Shadows crawl in the streets of Las Almas like rats in a sewer. From door to door they go, yelling at innocent civilians in the late hours of dusk. From the conversations I've heard, they're looking for two foreign men and their female friend. They don't quite explain why we're being hunted, but the truth wouldn't change much. Every so often, a shot fires, echoing through the streets like a warning bell. A call of sorrow and fear.

With the Shadows forcing their way into civilian homes and raising their weapons against anyone who could harbour us, houses and shops aren't safe. The towering cathedral spires peeking above tin roofs and stacked houses catch my attention instead. Nobody would be inside at this time of night. For now, it's the best I can do. Also to my luck, the church isn't too far away. I take my time and keep to the shadows on my way. With a quick survey of my surroundings, I know I've bet the Shadows to this part of the city. That won't last long. The revelation has me jumping the gate within seconds of making it.

Inside the church is pitch black. Towering windows that tell biblical tales line the walls, casting light in intervals across the empty foyer. Rows of seats begin to emerge as my eyes adjust. Further back is an intricate, circular skylight tens of feet above the marble floor. Illuminating the altar below is a waterfall of silvery light. The giant cross, gold statues, and wooden altar glow like I'm looking through a blurred lens. The view is both eerie and magical...and not meant to be marvelled at in a time like this. My focus should be maintaining high ground. I begin to turn in search of a staircase when something shifts in the darkness.

A figure materialises, tall and built; easily a male physically capable of snapping my neck. My next best option is the gun strapped to my hip to parry the one in his hand. I go to reach for mine—

“Y/N?”

I freeze in surprise, but my mind eases slightly.

“Lieutenant? How—”

“Doesn’t matter. We’re here now.” He looks down at me with searching eyes. “You in one piece?”

“Yes. You—?” At that moment, my own eyes skim his body, only to halt at a worrying sight. On the left side of his waist, just above the waistband of his pants, is a blooming, dark red stain on his shirt. He’s been shot. “Jesus, Ghost. How bad is it?”

“I’ve had worse—”

He stops himself at the distant shouting. The surrounding streets haven’t been quiet since I’ve been in the church, but this time it grows closer. Angrier. Ghost doesn’t waste time ushering me along in search of a stairwell. The one we find leads to the second floor, then a third. Eventually, we discover the central bell tower. The room is dank and cold and decently big. Suspended in the middle is a gigantic bell. Even in the dark, I can see how weathered the metal is. The worn wooden floors creak as we cross it. On each wall are arched openings that allow entry to the cold night air and terrified screams. A small cluster of discarded furniture draped in white sheets huddles in a corner. From here, we have a perfect view of the sprawling city and winding streets. To those down there, we’re invisible.

Simon leans back against a wall and grunts, his hands brushing over the bullet wound. He pulls back his hands to inspect the fresh blood. However bad it is, it’s still bleeding.

“Show me,” I say. My voice comes out more demanding than I intend.

He gives me a brief exasperated look but doesn’t push back.

Ghost sits against the wall with his shoulders slumped just enough to reach my level. His jacket is unzipped, his black shirt rolled up halfway. Those tired, piercing eyes and muscular arms are the most I've ever seen of him. It feels like a reward when the weather is unforgiving enough to chase away his usual long-sleeve or jacket. His arms are tanned and muscled, with a tattoo sleeve working from the wrist of his left arm up to his elbow. I’ve begun to accept that it’s the closest I’m ever going to get to seeing him. But now I stare down at his bare abdomen.

The waistband of his black cargo pants sits low on his hips, offering a distracting view of a pronounced V-line and abs. In the moonlight, I can make out the reminders of war that mark his skin; a few silvery scars, some clean-cut, some gnarled and twisted; an old bullet wound healed closer to his ribs. The fresh one with the most of my attention is buried in a more acceptable spot. It nestles into the far right side of his waist, thankfully nowhere near any vital organs. However, it’s still a bullet wound and it still bleeds. That’s enough to worry me.

“Do you reckon it’s bad?” I ask.

He shrugs. “I wouldn’t say I’m dying.”

“But we aren’t in the position to get proper help. Maybe sit down for a bit.” Surprisingly, he does so without question. I get to my feet, draw a small knife from my thigh holster, and rip a strip of fabric from the white sheets. When I drop back down beside him, I take a deep breath. “Here"

He takes it with a mumbled thank you and wraps the fabric around his waist.

“You heard from John?” I ask.

Simon winces as he adjusts the torn sheet. “I radioed him multiple times. Never got an answer.”

“Are you surprised by all this?”

Simon leans back against the wall. “I tend to be less surprised by betrayal. But I had some respect for Shepherd.”

I sigh, shuffling around him so that I can do the same. “What are we supposed to do now?”

“Survive,” he says. “Shepherd wants you alive. Graves will see to that. He can’t kill Alejandro, either. But Johnny and I…” He shakes his head. “Graves won’t sleep until there’s a bullet in our heads and Shepherd won’t care enough to stop it.”

There’s a moment of silence as I fold my arms and look away thoughtfully. How are we supposed to do this? The blanket of night and the ensuing storm may offer some cover, but getting out of the city will be a mission. I can’t bring myself to leave without John, either. My heart hurts when I think about him. He could be anywhere, alone and outnumbered while I sit uselessly in a bell tower.

“What do we do about Johnny?” My voice is quiet. Fearful. “My radio was damaged so I couldn’t reach out to him. Maybe his is the same. But not knowing… He’s the only family I have left. My only real friend.”

“Don’t worry about Johnny. He’s one of the most resourceful and strong-willed Sergeants I’ve dealt with in a while. Have faith in him.” He looks at me then, tilting his head to the side. “I wouldn’t say he’s your only friend.”

“I do quite like his girlfriend…” I murmur.

“And Alejandro? Ronaldo?”

I purse my lips as his question draws thought. I’ve been considering Alejandro and Ronaldo as allies. Companions. But I’ve grown quite fond of them. Considering them as friends would set me up for heartache if anything were to happen. So I haven’t… At least openly. Despite my attempts to create some distance in our relationships, my subconscious has decided for me. Those two are my friends. It explains the immense distress I’m battling over Alejandro’s capture.

“I guess so.”

“Me?”

Silence ensues from both of us.

His question stuns me; I was prepared for him to stop at Alejandro and Ronaldo. There’s nobody else in Las Almas or back at home that I pay attention to. Besides Ghost, at least. I could answer him in a second. I almost do.

Ghost is infamous for his detachment. He’s quiet, short-tempered, dangerous and mysterious. I’ve heard the comments that he suits his code name. Spiritual beings do not communicate through speech but through action. Ghost is the physical embodiment of the epiphany. Anybody able to coax a few sentences from him outside missions is admirable. Outside of that, his physical emotions require deep analysis and theory to understand. The mask only makes things more difficult. I’ve never seen him show palpable kindness through his aura or words to anyone, never heard him allow the use of his name, never heard him offer others insight into the raging whirlwind of his mind.

And yet he lets those things slide around me.

He lets me speak his name when no one is listening. He offers me comfort when I need it most — if not through limited words, through soft gazes and a hand on my shoulder. I’m usually able to get him talking. Sometimes I receive short answers, sometimes I receive enough to help me understand more of that whirlwind mind. He even occasionally shows pieces of himself that take away from the guessing game I usually play.

I shut people out because the last people I let in betrayed me.

I never consider answering personal questions, but you tend to have a lot of them. And every time you ask…I almost answer

I guess you and I are more alike than I thought.

All of it has me wanting more. More of his mind, his words, the soft gazes I’ve noticed are reserved for me. What I already have is nothing compared to every naked truth he could be telling me. However, what I’ve managed to coax from him seems to be more than he’s told anyone in a long time. At first, I marked it down as me being the only female on the team or Ghost considered me fragile. But I've proved myself, and nothing about being a 'fragile female' (which I very well am not) does not automatically give me all these passes. I now realise it is much more than that.

Never once has he called me his friend. I already have. Now it’s his turn.

“I don’t mind you, Simon, but friendship can’t be one-sided,” I say. While it’s a simple statement, a silent question hides between each word. Are you my friend?

“If it was as one-sided as you think, you wouldn’t be calling me Simon.”

My heart skips a beat. There. It’s an answer to my unspoken words, but it’s not plain as day. As usual, Simon tells me something that is anything but straightforward. There’s room for interpretation in his answer—something that is beginning to tire me. It’s almost as if the honest answer is criminal and he’s trying to cover up his tracks. Almost as if not speaking that honest answer can allow him to deny it.

I don't bother concealing my annoyance. “That’s not what I want to hear and you know it.”

“Fuck sakes, Y\N, I said it,” he says. His voice comes out both argumentative and exasperated.

“No, you didn't. All I ever get out of you is stuff that works around the truth. Stuff I have to think about to understand.” I'm crossing a line, I know. I just can't help it. “What’s so hard about admitting it?”

“Don’t.”

His tone is final. I don’t care.

“Does the truth scare you?”

His eyes squint, becoming barely visible against the black paint, the mask, and the low light. I can clearly picture a scowl jumping across the many faces I’ve imagined. While I want to flinch away, I don’t. Not for a second do my eyes lower, and not for a second do I grow offensive. I remain calm and collected, which I think annoys him more.

“You want the truth?” he growls. The accent of Manchester seems to thicken. “Fine. I’ll tell you the truth. I don’t want to admit I think of you as a friend ‘cause I bloody well want to ignore it. For years, it’s only been me and I planned it to be for the rest of my life. Then all of a sudden you and your annoying cousin appear and jeopardise everything. The only person with an inkling of anything was Shepherd and I was fine with that. But now you’re catching up to him. You’ve so effortlessly undone everything I’ve worked hard to maintain.” The growl in his voice dies down the longer he speaks. In the last sentence, his voice is quiet, defeated, but a little begrudging. “And I knowingly let you.”

“If it was bothering you that much, you should have told me,” I say with a voice equally as quiet. “If I knew you didn’t want me to know so badly, I would have respected that.”

He shakes his head. “You don’t understand. I think about telling you everything. I may get pissy at you over your questions, but…” A sigh. The truth is shameful to him. “I look forward to them.”

“If it makes you feel any better…” I laugh a little. “It’s really annoying how intriguing you are. Not just your past and your face… When I’m not trying to guess what you look like, I’m refraining from asking you stupid questions. Shit like if you’re a cat or dog person.”

“Dog person,” he replies. Any hint of anger or annoyance has disappeared. “Cats have too much attitude.”

I squint. “You just don’t appreciate them.”

“You strike me as a cat person.” He pauses in thought. “You just remind me of a cat, really.”

I raise my brows, giving him an exasperated look. “Are you going to tell me I have an attitude?”

“Maybe. But there’s more to it.”

I cock my head in question.

“Cats are friendly. Independent.” His eyes shift and I wonder if there's a smirk beneath the mask. “Curious.”

“Was that another dig at my questions?”

“Yes. Now shut up and listen.”

Before he continues, I find myself turning my body so I can fully look at him, my shoulder against the concrete walls and my legs folded beneath me.

“There’s that look in their eyes that they know your worst thoughts. Your secrets. They’re also graceful. Got that high-class elegance about them. But they can be unpredictable, striking out when you least expect. Once they sink their claws into you…” His eyes search my face. “You can’t get rid of them.”

I look up at him in wonder, my mouth slightly agape as I try to find a suitable response. Nothing I could say would express the way his words sink in. I’ve always coined Simon to be the observant type, keeping to himself and remaining silent. But I never expected him to relay his finds. His usual short, sharp answers contrast the compliment greatly.

“I think…” A small smile curves my lips upwards. “…That was the most meaningful compliment I’ve ever gotten.”

“Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Never. Now I have a question.”

“The floor is yours.”

“Do you have, like, Queen Elizabeth tattooed on your face? The British flag?” I grin. “Something mask-worthy, you know?”

“Why does it have to be something British?”

“Because there’s no way you’re the only Brit I know that isn’t somewhat stereotypical.”

Simon huffs a laugh. “No stereotypical tattoos. Sorry to disappoint.”

“A big scar, then?”

He tilts his head. “No scars that make me want to wear it.”

I raise my brows. “So you do have a scar?”

“Only one big one.”

“Good to know.” I nod my head with thoughtful eyes. “I’ll add that to a mental note.”

His eyes widen a fraction. The skull sown to his balaclava only offers the view of his painted eyes and nothing. Not even his eyebrows. I guess he’s raising them in question.

“How often do you think about this?”

I let out a long breath. “You have no idea. I change what I think you look like every day.”

“What do you think I look like.”

I go quiet in thought for a moment. As I said, the image changes… Only more frequently than I want to admit. Sometimes the change is small. Sometimes the change is big. I know I’m not the only one stumped by this, either. John and I joked over it once. He said things eluding to him being unattractive. A crooked nose, a huge scar, broken teeth. Every time he made a guess I would laugh, but never did the ideas seep into my mind. Nothing in an unattractive sense, anyway. Despite the possibility, I can never picture him as ugly.

“It varies, but…” I take one last second to collect my thoughts. “Without that skull piece, you have dark eyebrows. I imagine your hair is brown. And you’re eyes…it’s hard to tell with the paint, but they’re more deep-set and heavy-lidded. The balaclava is tight enough to make me think you have a straight nose, high cheekbones, strong jaw…” I shake my head. “Beyond that, I’m stumped.”

I can tell he thinks deeply about each characteristic. I sit patiently and almost wait for confirmation, but I know better than that. If he’s not going to show his face, he’s not going to—

“My hair is brown.”

I’m about to backtrack on my previous thought when he reaches towards the space between my neck and shoulder. In the frenzy that has been the last hour, my hair has come undone. The braid was unsavable, making me pull out the band and attempt a ponytail…only for it to snap in two. My hair now falls in dishevelled waves. A small part of my hair falls over my shoulder. Simon gingerly reaches for it, curling it between his finger and examining it in the low light. …Can he hear how fast my heart is beating?

“Not like yours. A few shades lighter, maybe. And that scar…”

Even more gingerly, Simon pulls one of my hands from its folded position, and I pray my expression doesn’t betray me. Rough, calloused hands press against the back of mine. The size difference is almost comical. He guides it to his masked face, working his fingers working around mine to spread them out. He drags my hand over his right cheekbone, across the hollow of his cheek, and towards his jaw. My mind is hyper-fixated on the shape of his face.

“Right along there.”

His eyes continue to search my face. There’s nothing but curiosity in the blue-grey of his irises. Curious at what, I can’t tell. Everything about this has my mind raging. The way he looks at me, the way he holds my hand against the black balaclava, the way he towers over me even when sitting down... The thoughts that surface are shameful. He’s your lieutenant, for Christ’s sake. Have some respect. The remembrance of his position has little help.

If anything, it strengthens the fantasies.

His hold shifts on top of my hand, the pad of his thumb swiping across my skin to stop on the inner side of my wrist and press down. He may not have been able to hear my heartbeat…but now he can feel it at the worst possible moment.

“You’re heart is beating fast.” He inclines his head. “Do I make you nervous, Y\N?”

God, is my breathing even? I can’t tell.

“You just caught me off guard, is all.”

Simon hums thoughtfully as his hand breaks away from mine and reaches forward. His fingers connect with my collarbone before finding my neck, exploring upwards in search of a pulse point. A shiver of excitement and nervousness runs beneath my skin like a ripple. His other hand slides over my knee and up my thigh. If my heart was racing before, this is a life-or-death sprint.

Slow are his movements. Calculated. He knows exactly where my heartbeat reverberates in my neck. Instead, he drags the moment out, coaxing out his desired reaction. But there’s something else in the slowness: a window for me to flinch away and draw the physical line neither of us has ever drawn. We’ve brushed shoulders and hands. We’ve sat with our bodies aligned in cramped cars. He’s held my hair back in a bathroom as I threw up after a panicked episode (something I would like to forget if he wasn't so surprisingly understanding). He's placed a hand on my shoulder for many different reasons. All are excusable moments. The ones that surpass professional boundaries can be marked as friendly. However, the intimacy of this moment is new. Scary. Exciting.

“Did you know your bottom lip twitches before you lie?” Simon asks. I find myself at eye level with him. When did he get so close? “I don’t like lies. Try again.”

“Sometimes…” I breathe.

“Sometimes, what?”

Bastard. “Sometimes you make me nervous.”

“Why?”

“Because…” I frown. “I don’t know.”

He’s definitely leaning closer now. Not just with his head, but with his whole upper body. Out of the nerves Simon is so adamant on understanding, I retreat, only making it a few inches before my back hits the other wall. Simon half hovers over me, the hand that was on my thigh now bracing himself on the floor. There are only a few inches between our chests. Even less between our faces. Not once does he lose his connection with my pulse.

“Another lie.”

“I don’t know how to word it. That's not a lie.”

Simon drops his head so that his covered mouth hovers beside my ear.

“Good girl.”

Never has praise sounded so seductive. It takes every inch of concentration to reign in my self-control. I might have ripped off his mask then and there…

Only, I think he’s beating me to it.

From where his head hovers, I can’t see his masked face. The wide, strong shape of his shoulder obscures most of my vision. He retracts his hand from my neck to reach somewhere I can’t see. The sound of moving cloth widens my eyes and upsets the rhythm of my breathing, the uneven rise and fall of my chest barely brushing his.

Maybe he’s adjusting it, I convince myself. He has only ever offered you little pieces at a time. What he’s offering me now is more than he ever has at once. While my body screams for more, my mind knows I can’t expect too much from him. Whatever he’s doing now is more than enough.

“You’re breathing funny.”

The feeling of breath skims the shell of my ear and down my neck like a warm, ghostly waterfall. It takes me a second to notice a difference in his voice. It’s low, it’s rough, it’s teasing. All are easily noticeable and nothing new. What is new is the enhanced clarity. An added sharpness lingers in his accented words. The slight muffle is nowhere to be found.

I was wrong. He’s lifted his mask.

“Because you’re taking off your mask." My answer comes out in a weak whisper.

He doesn’t speak about the mask, instead repositioning his hand to my neck to find my pulse.

“If you can’t tell me,” he murmurs, returning to the previous topic, “your heartbeat can.”

A warm feeling presses into my neck. A gasp slips past my lips as my heartbeat continues to quicken and stumble beneath his thumb. Against my skin…I think Simon is smiling.

Nothing about this seems real. Simon plants slow kisses on my neck with his bare lips. They’re a little rough, yet soothing. Whether they’re full or thin, I can’t tell, but the lack of obvious signs paints an image of something in between. His nose brushes the base of my jaw. Just above the pointed tip is where the balaclava begins. I can feel the hard edges of the sewn-on skull pressing into my left temple. Light stubble covers his jaw.

As his mouth works slowly against my neck, my jaw, and my collarbone, my hand slides up and over his chest. I slowly feel his bare neck. Beneath my fingers, his Adam's apple bobs. Further I explore, feeling the planes of his skin. The stubble scratches against my curious hand. Raised skin runs in a line over the right side of his face; the scar. It’s thin and generally clean-cut. He pulls back slightly as I feel his face. A deep chuckle rumbles in his chest as my thumb traces over his lips. I was right, they are something between full and thin. His lower lip feels slightly fuller with a deep hollow beneath that curves into his chin.

When I find it in me to speak, my voice is breathy.

“Kiss me.” He seems to still at that. When his reply isn’t instant, I continue. “You don’t have to… But I won’t look. I swear it.”

Silently, he reaches for my hand. He holds his over mine for a moment as he did with the mask moments earlier. Then he gently pries it away. Cloth shifts in my air as he fixes the mask and pulls back. I can’t say I’m not disappointed, but I respect the decision. Simon looks down at me with lust-blown pupils. Mine must be the same.

He takes a second to examine me. My heavy-lidded eyes, my slightly parted lips, the way I slump beneath him, the glistening wet spots left on my neck. He whips it away before he speaks.

“Can I trust you?”

We both know the answer to that, so instead of saying the obvious, I one-up him.

“Do you want to trust me?”

Silence passes for a heartbeat.

“Of course I do,” he says softly. “I want to trust you. I want to touch you. I want to kiss you. …Undress you. I’ve wanted to for so long.”

Then he moves.

My thoughts go quiet as Simon’s hands reach upward. When his fingers brush the base of his mask, I reach out and still his hands. The action takes both of us by surprise. For months I’ve been thinking about this moment. Just now I’ve admitted how much what he looks like takes up my mind. Now I find myself stopping him, but not because I’ve changed my mind. I worry that this will be something he’ll regret.

“Simon,” I say. “You don’t owe it to me to show your face.”

“But I do.” He inclines his head. “Now keep your pretty eyes up.”

My breath catches in my throat as he pulls it off in one swift motion. I take in everything I’m seeing in amazement, wonder, and bewilderment.

He’s handsome. He’s really handsome.

The ruggedness and confidence he carries seem to be etched into the planes of his face. A light stubble shadows his angular, defined jaw. Just as I had imagined, the bridge of his nose is straight and strong. His high cheekbones, deep-set eyes and smudged black paint create deep shadows. His mouth is wide. The shape of them is a physical manifestation of what I had imagined. With an average fullness, his upper lip is slightly smaller with a soft cupid’s bow. Tracing the angles of his right cheekbone is that straight, silver scar. His hair isn’t as short as most other military men’s. It’s a little messy from the mask and, true to his words, a few shades lighter than mine. I can tell that, the longer it gets, the more it curls.

I stay silent as I take him in, eyes wide. Somehow I find the courage to slowly reach out. His blue-grey eyes dart to my hesitant fingers. When he doesn’t deny me, I close the space, this time feeling him without needing to imagine his image. I apply a little pressure as I brush his skin, feeling the warmth of his cheeks, the scar tissue on his cheekbone, and the stubble on his jaw. His eyes train on me. This is one of the few times I cannot understand what I see in them.

Whatever he’s thinking, it doesn’t matter. All that matters is that I stare back at Simon. Not Ghost, Simon.

“I was starting to think you weren’t real,” I say jokingly.

He laughs softly. One side of his mouth quirks up into a skewed smirk. My heart flutters at the sight of it. When he speaks, it’s with that teasing tone that always had me imagining a smirk. Matching his expressions to his tones is a strange thing to see, but I love it.

“Is this real enough for you?” he asks.

I hum in agreement. “You’re a lot better looking than I imagined.”

He raises a brow in mock offence. “Do I radiate unattractiveness? I’m offended.”

“I never said I imagined you ugly.”

I draw my hands back, taking another good look at him. My amazed smile remains. So does the awe in my eyes. Now that I know how good-looking he is, it’s going to be hard to get him out of my head. At least I can’t scold myself over falling for a faceless man anymore.

“I guess if I die tonight… I can go a little happier.”

The way he tilts his head and looks up through lowered brows sends my mind into a frenzy. I’m used to the action with his mask on, usually with the sewn-on skull. Now, with every part of his face laid bare for me, the feeling it stirs comes tenfold. He gives me a fake accusing look. Beneath the teasing air he gives off, that desire remains.

“A little?” he murmurs. His face grows closer, giving me a better view of the hollows and curves and marks of war.

“A little not enough?”

His eyes dip to my lips. “Not by a longshot.”

Then Simon kisses me.

Eyes fluttering closed, I sink into the feeling of his lips against mine. Gently. Hesitantly. Does he expect me to pull away? How could he think such a thing when I almost seemed desperate when I asked him? My hands slide over his chest, slowly linking behind his neck as the kiss deepens.

For a moment, everything fades away. The gunfire, the screams, the impending death we may face any moment... All of it reduces to a meaningless blur. Suddenly all that exists is me, Simon, and the secret embrace we share. In our kiss is a million unspoken words; a tidal wave of passion laced with a bittersweet sadness. The talk of ‘dying happy’ is no exaggeration. We very well may die, and seeing his face and feeling his touch eases the painful thought. Maybe this way I can find him in the afterlife - seek out his mysterious eyes and lopsided smirk and spend an eternity together. Or perhaps there is no afterlife, and this is my last stroke of luck.

Satisfied with the knowledge of what he does to me, Simon lowers his hand from my neck. The pressure reapplies near my belt. His fingers timidly skim the bottom of my tanktop, pulling the tucked part from my waistband. My own fingers weave through his brown hair as his hand slides further beneath. My kiss falters when he finds one of my breasts. His hand comfortably rests over it, his palm slowly kneading at the flesh. A low groan builds at the back of my throat.

After a moment, we pull away, chests rising and falling as we take deep breaths. His forehead rests against mine and suddenly I'm wishing we could do this over again. Except I picture less sadness to tinge every word and action. I picture the safety of home, the warmth of a bed, a carefree air that allows us to just enjoy the other's company. Reality comes back in a painful rush.

“I don’t want to die,” I whisper.

His hand retreats from my breast at my words. Instead, he takes a hold of my waist, giving me a comforting squeeze.

“You are not going to die. Not today. Not when there’s so much more I want from you.” He adds the last part with a teasing, suggestive smirk.

He looks down at my lips again—

“Ghost, how do you copy?”

We both freeze at the sound of a voice, so caught up in the moment that the radio is forgotten. Both the unspeakable things and sorrowful thoughts flooding my mind suddenly vanish at the sound of a familiar voice. There’s an equally received look on Simon’s face as he reaches for the small radio.

“I read you loud and clear, Sergeant,” he says. “What’s your location?”

“I…don’t know,” John replies solemnly. “Streets are crawling with Shadows. Where are you?”

“You see church spires above the houses?”

There’s a second of silence. Then…

“I see them.”

“Good. Head straight there and come inside. No Shadows here yet. They’ll be busy going door to door.”

“Affirmative. I’m on my way. Have you got any word from Y/N?”

Simon looks at me, silently giving me the floor to speak. “I’m right here, Johnny.”

There’s a sigh of relief on the other end. “Oh, thank fuck. You in one piece?”

“I’m all here. You?”

“Got a shot to the shoulder. Nothing I can’t handle.”

For the next while, Simon and I sit huddled side by side, guiding Johnny through the radio. I generally leave the talking to Simon. Listening to him speak and sinking into his warmth is good enough. Every so often, he'll say something that takes me by surprise. Sometimes it's a dad joke, either really good or incredibly bad. Sometimes it's something that alludes to Simon not minding Johnny. He never outright admits it, but saying 'I like you alive' to Johnny's 'so you do like me' speaks for itself. I smile at that. I have sunk my claws into him, and he's not going to be able to get rid of me till the day I die.

#call of duty #call of duty modern warfare 2 #modern warfare 2 #modern warfare ii #mw2 #mwii #ghost #simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x y/n

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nanami-is-nanamean · 2 days ago

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Hi. I have seen a nerdjo fanart and went a little insane.

I specifically saw this art--

and like LJKHFGLKJSHLDFKhGKLSD i know its satosugu or some kind of self insert bUT HEAR ME OUT OKAY--

the thought of a nerdjo nanago where GOJO is the straightlaced person in the relationship while NANAMI is the "bad influence" rough and tough bad guy iS SO GOOD TO MEEEEEEE

BECAUSE LIKE--

we all collectively hc nanami as being some kind of emo punk in hs or at the very least got into some bullshit during his uni/college years when he got out of juju tech and this is just its Natural Conclusion OKAY-- IM NOT INSANE BUT I WILL ADMIT THAT I AM GOING FERAL

Because like-- imagine a college au where gojo and nanami are assigned to be each others tutors in their respective fields (gojo with physics and nanami in economics). Gojo is painting this picture of a mean, money focused economics student that would rather look at the stock market than entertain theoretical physics, a subject that wont really affect his life before meeting him

But then they actually meet each other for their study session for the first time and oh god gojos never felt this gay before-- other than the time that gojo discovered he was gay, dear LORD he didnt feel that bad before KJLGSDGDL

Because while yeah, nanami did show up rockin the stereotypical hoity toity econ student fit-- glasses, collared shirt, watch, shined shoes-- he didnt expect him to be built like a brick shithouse, okay. And even as he fell back on his tried and true method of getting back into focus (which is breaking things down using physics to figure out how they interact with the world), even that failed because he started wondering about the physics of fabrics and how they didnt rip yet from such huge rippling muscles

He does manage to get through the tutoring lesson safely and, thank god it was the physics lesson first because if he had to sit there listening to nanamis voice talk about literally anything for extended periods of time, he may turn into a puddle. As gojo packs up, both his materials and his thoughts that are steering WILDLY into inappropriate territory, he resigns himself into being the fushiguros babysitter for the next 3 weeks because cleaning up baby diapers are the fastest way to get rid of a boner and he cant be popping those everytime hes around nanami

So imagine gojos surprise when nanami hesitates a bit before he leaves. "Are you busy tonight?" "...what?" "Are you busy tonight." "Uhm..."

Is this it? Is his 1 to 2 hour long crush discovered? Is nanami actually straight, found out his gayness, and decided to destroy him????

"...I noticed you didn't have anything down on your planner. A friend of mine got sick, so now im kind of going alone to this concert." "...Oh! Aren't you gonna--" "Sell the ticket? No, its... not really a concert, its an underground diy venue. its more live music in a bar, than an actual concert you buy tickets to. you get to find a lot of small starting artists. its pretty good." "...so youre saying is, there's no ticket to sell?"

gojo's breath hitches, as his deep chuckle graces his ears. "yeah, no tickets." his face is warm, and he has no idea if it shows. nanamis eyes tear themselves away from wherever they roamed and met his again. "you wanna come?" "y-yeah! yeah sure, im down."

he really fumbled the delivery on that one, but thank god nanami seems to like clumsy people because that just widened the small smile on his face. "that's good. see you 8 down at the lawsons?" "8 at the lawsons, yeah sure okay--" a nod, a grin, and he walks off.

Triple Threat Tokyo Groupchat

Sight Impediment: @/Dr. House Kinnie @/The Ball Vorer help what should i wear to an underground bar Dr. House Kinnie: wtf happened on that tutoring session gay boi The Ball Vorer: what else dude, he was being gay Sight Impediment: YOU GUYS ARENT HELPING

#i went. so feral.#i mean you can probably tell with how i just. made a damn drabble in the post JKLFKGBshfNDGhNSLDg #LOOK MAN IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE SHORT AND ENDED WITH NANAMI DEVOURING GOJO OKAY #INSTEAD IT TURNED INTO THIS #I AM BLAMING MY FEVER #I ACTUALLY CANT TELL IF ITS JUST A FEVER OR IF ITS A FLUE #EITHERWAY I AM BLAMING THIS DISEASE FOR IT LKGVBnLSDFKjhGBLKSDFg #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #wynn talks #nanami kento #gojo satoru #nanago #gojo x nanami #nanami kento x gojo satoru #nanami x gojo #jjk headcanons #also this is actually really good set up for shit so feel free to use it as one of #wynn's story ideas

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bambisworlds · 4 months ago

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the freak and the new girl (2)

part one, part three

eddie munson is the freak of hawkins high. y/n is the new girl. like eleven, she was taken in by hopper after getting rescued from the lab. y/n has been in bad relationship after bad relationship since attending public school and was starting to give up on finding a healthy, loving relationship until eddie munson changed everything (1,827 word count).

content warnings, mdni 18+

f!reader, hopper!reader, bisexual!reader, telekinetic!reader, no physical reader description, reader grew up in the lab like eleven, reader can sing, slow burn, friends to lovers, fluff fluff fluff, underage drinking, billy is a dick and gets physical with reader (no hitting he just grabs her), protective!eddie, eddie gets in a physical fight, verrrry mild gore, jason carver and billy hargrove are readers exes, this follows the season 2 plot but the party are freshmen instead cause it makes things easier, eleven is in public school for the season 2 plot, let me know if i forgot anything x

my masterlist

After weeks of debating, I gathered the courage to show more of my songs to Eddie. But, this time fully recorded songs on a mixtape.

“Okay don’t make fun of me.” I start, standing beside Eddie at his locker.

“No promises.” he teases with his killer smile.

“I made a mixtape of my songs for you to listen to,” I say and he smiles wider.

“You made me a mixtape of your favorite songs?” he asks and I sigh.

“Well, no, they’re songs I wrote. Songs I sing.” I elaborate and his face lights up.

“Those are your songs on there?!” he grabs the mixtape out of my hand excitedly, “Fuck yeah I’ll listen to them, why didn’t say so in the first place?” he babbles and I roll my eyes.

“Here’s the tracklist.” I hand him a crumpled-up piece of paper.

“Ten songs? Ten?!” he gapes at me excitedly.

“Well, actually, I have like 30-ish completed songs.”

“YOU HAVE THIRTY COMPLETED SONGS?!” he shouts in the hallway and I shush him.

“It’s not that big of a deal.” I laugh nervously.

“Corroded Coffin has like… 15 songs. Not even,” he answers quietly.

“Well, you better get on that then.” I joke.

The next morning Eddie greeted me with not only my mixtape but one of his own. “This has some Corroded Coffin songs on it for you to fall in love with.” he gloats.

“Confident are we?” I smile and he lets out a chuckle.

“Actually not really I’m just trying to hype it up.” he says and pulls a piece of paper out of his back pocket “This is also for you.”

“What is it?” I ask, opening up the paper.

“All the things I liked about your songs,” he answers and I could literally feel myself swoon.

“Eddie… that’s so nice of you. Thank you.”

For the following week or so we swapped mixtapes nearly every day, wanting to show each other our favorite songs and artists. It was the most fun I’ve had in a long time. But, of course, a high always ends with a low.

“You and the freak, huh?” Billy asks me, standing far too close for comfort. I tried to dodge him, but he’s got me cornered at my locker.

“What’s it to you?” I ask, crossing my arms, “You dumped me for Heather. Not happy anymore? Did she bore you like I did?”

“When did you get such a smart mouth on you? Don’t know whether or not I should be thanking the freak.” he grits his teeth, trying to intimidate me. “You and Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson… that’s not a good match. You should stay away from him.”

“Or… you should stay away from me.” I gave him a fake smile, trying to walk past him but he grabbed my wrist so tight it felt like it could bruise. I have never wanted to blow my cover and use my powers so badly.

“Stay away from him,” he demands lowly and I rip my wrist from his grasp. I briskly walked to my history class, my heart pounding in my chest. I didn’t even notice Eddie’s spot at his desk beside mine as I sat down. I could see movement to my left where he sat but all I could focus on was massaging my wrist. I snapped out of my daze when an orange flier was smacked on the table in front of me, making me jump.

“Wanna go?” Eddie asks with a smile, sucking his cheeks together to make a goofy face.

“To Tina’s party?” I asked him in disbelief, “Did you switch bodies with someone?” I chuckle.

“Maybe I did. Wanna check? I can start stripping.” he jokes, starting to unbutton his pants as I smack him with the paper.

“I’ll see. I might be on babysitting duty.” I complained.

“Fuck that! Ditch the rugrats and come party with me. It’ll be fun.” he droned on.

“I said I’ll see.”

Eddie picked me up that night to take me to the party after a 10-minute shake-down from Hopper. Eddie just laughed it off after bantering with him a bit. I think Hopper secretly liked him.

I went as Tinker Bell and Eddie went as one of the members from Metallica. The place was packed, filled with drunk teenagers. Eddie took my hand and led me into the house. He got us both drinks as I spotted Steve Harrington across the room.

“There’s someone I wanna go say hi to,” I yell over the music and Eddie nods. I expected him to wait by the punch but he followed after me like a puppy. “Hey.” I greeted Steve and Nancy.

“Y/n! How are you? I haven’t seen you since…” Nancy drawled out, Steve sending her a look. She was clearly wasted.

“Steve Harrington and Nancy Wheeler? That’s who you wanted to talk to?” Eddie mutters in my ear, leaning down so I can hear him.

I ignored him, “I’m good. I see you’re enjoying the punch.” I joke and Steve rolls his eyes.

“Maybe a little too much.” he sighs, taking the red cup out of her hand and she immediately starts to whine. Steve glanced behind me at Eddie who was lurking over my shoulder, “You’re here with Eddie?” Steve asked me in disbelief as if Eddie wasn’t there.

"Yeah, why?” I ask. Steve shrugged, making a face. “Anyway, I just wanted to say hi.” I spit out before practically running away from the awkward situation. Once again, Eddie followed me as I trailed across the house, “Oh I love this song!” I yelled out as a Madonna song started to play. For the majority of the song Eddie and I showed off our silly dance moves, enjoying the song. That was until the song came to an end and Eddie was shoved into me.

“What the fuck?” Eddie grunted out, wiping the punch he spilled on himself off his shirt.

“Oops? You get all dirty there Munson? You and my sloppy seconds?” Billy taunts from behind him. I glared at Billy, a face of stone.

“Will you please just leave me the fuck alone?" I groan in distaste.

“What’d I tell you?!” he shouted at me, getting in my face. I looked at him with such hatred I was surprised his head didn’t combust right there. Eddie shoved Billy in the shoulder, getting some distance in between us.

“You heard her man, don’t ruin a perfectly good party.” Eddie tried to reason, motioning to the room around us.

“Aw look at that, Munsons defending his new toy. Hopefully, she’s more fun with you than she was with me. So fucking boring.” Billy retorts.

“Shut up man.” Eddie sighs in annoyance, shaking his head.

“Did she finally break that bullshit prude act and let you fuck her?” Billy asks, motioning between Eddie and I. My face was beat red with embarrassment as Eddie glanced over at me. “I bet she’d even let you cum in her, she’s dumb enough for it.” Billy laughs, a few of his henchmen laughing with him. Before I could even conjure a response Eddie punched Billy so hard it nearly knocked him to the ground. My mouth dropped open in response, eyebrows raising in surprise.

“I said shut the fuck up!” Eddie shouted, going in for another punch. It landed and Billy started to swing back. Everyone gathered around either cheering them on or telling them to stop. I watched anxiously, begging Eddie to stop. Do I stop them?

My internal conflict became crystal clear when Billy grabbed a beer bottle and smashed it on the counter, holding up the bottle menacingly. Before I could react he swung with the bottle in his hand and cut Eddie in the forearm. Before he could go a second time I focused on him with my mind and forced him to “slip” on the beer on the floor. Billy slammed on the ground, coughing out in pain.

I grabbed Eddie’s arm and pulled him away from the scene, “C’mon.” I ushered him out of the house and to the front yard. I sat down on the curb, pulling him to sit down with me. He winced as he clutched the heavy cut on his arm. “C’mere,” I said, ripping the green long-sleeved shirt I wore and putting it over the cut. “It’ll stop the bleeding.” I insist as I push down on the wound and he lets out a hiss, “God I could kill Billy right now.” I shake my head in disapproval.

“You and me both,” Eddie answered between gritted teeth.

“Thanks for sticking up for me.” I nearly whispered.

“It’s no problem.” he grits out, “Besides, Billy doesn’t know what the fuck he’s talking about.”

“No?” I ask, beginning to wrap his arm with the other sleeve of my shirt I ripped off.

“No. He’s an idiot for talking about you like that like he knows you. He’s full of shit. Just jealous a pretty girl isn’t getting on her knees for him.” Eddie pauses as I finish knotting the makeshift bandage. “He doesn’t deserve someone like you,” Eddie mutters and I finally look up at him. I smile softly. My heart beat rapidly in my chest as Eddie began to glance back and forth between my eyes and lips. I knew what was coming and I didn’t want him to chicken out so I did it for him. I closed the distance between us and kissed him softly. He nearly pulled back in surprise.

His whole body was as stiff as a board, hands hovering in the air in shock. When I rested my hand on his cheek and deepened the kiss, that’s when he let himself fall into step. His left hand tangled in my hair and his right hand sat on my leg. His lips fought for dominance, his right hand squeezing on my thigh. When I pulled back for breath he smiled like a little kid.

“About fucking time.” he chuckles before leaning in to kiss me again. I giggled slightly as he playfully pulled me onto his lap. Right when the kiss started to get heated drops of rain began to fall on us. We pulled away with crinkled brows, it wasn’t supposed to rain. I frowned, but Eddie smiled, “That’s fucking perfect.” he pointed at the sky with the most adorable smile.

“Can we go somewhere else? This party sucks.” I laugh.

“Sure. We could uh… go back to my place?” he offers and I raise my eyebrows, “Not like that. We could just listen to music or whatever. I have Motley Crue records.” he wiggled his eyebrows playfully and I laughed. He stood up and offered me his hand.

Okay.” I pause, taking his hand, “But no funny business.” I point at him, looking serious.

“Scouts honor.” he salutes me playfully. We jogged through the rain to his car, hand in hand.

if you have any requests including the people on my masterlist please comment them below any of my posts or in my submissions!! (check here: about my blog to see what things i'm not comfortable with in regards to requests <3)

divider is by inkedreverie

#eddie munson #stranger things fic #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x reader #stranger things #eddie munson fic

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storytowrite · 5 months ago

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|You will always be mine ~ Lee Minho series|

PART 2

Paring: Minho x Y/N

Genre: smut, angst, university au

Word count: 942

Warnings: sex, 18+, Minho is a psycho, dom!Minho, sub!reader, abuse, slight BDSM, kidnapping, violence, age gap, Minho is an university professor, Y/N can be hurt physically (and mentally too I guess).

Synopsis: Who knew that accidental fuck in the club bathroom with a handsome man will bring you to a lot of unexpected events.

Author's note: I kept this series for a really long time not sure if I want to post it or not, but I decided to do it anyway, so I hope you'll like it.

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Monday. The beginning of the week, the end of the weekend and the end of freedom. It was a sunny day. You woke up in the morning, the sun's rays streaming through the slightly tattered blinds. You had meant to fix them a long time ago, but you could never find the time. Your parents always told you to take care of such things right away because it would only get harder to gather the motivation later, but who listens to what parents say?

You got out of bed and stretched. Time to get ready for classes. You thought. You took off the oversized shirt you used as pajamas and put on a black lingerie set. Standing in front of the mirror, you admired how the bra emphasized your breasts. You examined your reflection. The love bites left by the guy from the Saturday party had almost disappeared; apparently, he hadn't bitten you as hard as you initially thought.

You put on a black top and dark jeans. You tied your brown hair into a high ponytail and applied light makeup. Then, grabbed your bag and left the apartment. Ever since you started university, you lived on your own. Your parents had a house on the outskirts of the city, and you didn't see them very often.

On your way to the university, you stopped by a café, where, as always, bought coffee and a croissant. Sipping your fresh latte, you entered the university campus. Soon, your classes were about to begin. You headed towards the lecture hall, lost in your thoughts.

"Y/N!" Suddenly you heard a familiar voice from the end of the corridor.

"Oh, hi Woo, so you did manage to transfer after all." You smiled at your friend. "You didn't mention on Saturday that you were starting your classes here today."

"Yeah, I know..." The guy gave you a genuine smile. "I didn't want to brag until I was sure it would work out. Do you happen to know where room 214 is? This place is like a maze."

"Mhm... it's right above us, on the floor next to the men's bathroom" You replied and took a sip of your coffee.

"Oh, great! Thanks!" He grinned at you. "I'm off to class. See you later, Y/N!" He said cheerfully and walked away, leaving you alone.

You just sighed and headed to the lecture room, sipping your coffee along the way. You were almost about to enter the classroom when someone bumped into you, spilling coffee on your blouse.

"Hey! Watch where you're going!" You snapped.

"Because it's my fault, right?" You heard in response and rolled your eyes.

"Can't you walk properly, Lisa?" You asked sharply, taking out tissues from your bag.

"It's not my fault you're blocking the way!" Lisa replied, tossing her hair and strutting toward her desk like a model.

You rolled your eyes. Lisa used to be your friend, but now she was your biggest enemy at the university and beyond. The two of you stopped getting along in sixth grade when Lisa accused you of stealing. Since then, Lisa took every opportunity to make your life miserable. Unfortunately, fate brought the both of you to the same major at the university.

With a quiet sigh, you took your usual spot by the wall, in the third row from the end, where you could easily do everything except take notes. You hated art history lectures. They bored you, and on top of that, the lecturer was old and spoke too slowly to focus.

You glanced at your watch. Strange. You thought. The lecture should have started a long time ago. You looked around the room. Other students also seemed to wonder where the professor was. He usually arrived five minutes early, and now ten minutes had passed since the lecture should have begun, and he still hadn't shown up. Some students started packing up and preparing to leave. Some were already standing up, when suddenly the door opened, and a quite short man entered the room, who was by no means their lecturer.

"Dear students, the class hasn't ended yet. Please take your seats." He spoke up and placed his folder on the desk before leaning against it. He casually rolled up the sleeves of his white shirt, with the top two buttons undone. He looked much younger than their usual lecturer, and he was much more handsome. "My name is Lee Minho. You can call me Mr. Lee." He introduced himself. "I'll be substituting for Mr. Kang until the end of the year as he has some personal reasons preventing him from continuing to teach this subject." He informed the students. "At the end of the class, please sign your names on this list." He added, placing a white sheet of paper on the desk. "Shall we begin?" He asked, looking around the room.

You observed the man closely. His black pants perfectly accentuated his muscular thighs. The white shirt tucked into his lower garment gently hugged his torso. His dark hair was slightly tousled by the wind. He wore glasses, which added some seriousness to his appearance. He looked intimidating, yet his voice was gentle. You recognized that voice… Your eyes met. You stared into his dark brown eyes and froze. It was the same man with whom you had sex in the club's restroom a few days ago. Shock painted across your face.

"What the fu..." you covered her mouth before you could utter the last word. You knew that if anyone found out about what had happened between you and the lecturer on Saturday, you would be in trouble.

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<- Part 1 | Part 3 ->

-> Series Masterlist

——————————

Taglist: @yaorzu-blog, @iovecb97, @hpnsfwaddict

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oli-ribbun-ver · 1 month ago

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EP 4 RAMBLE PART 2!!

(plus some theories of mine ft other episodes)

YAY COLOR!!! ooh i should add color to the text in part 1 too... itll look more fun that way! ANYWAY SORYR

I've already talked about Jax vs Ragatha when they commented on Gangle being happy, but just a quick recap in case yall didnt see part 1!

Jax says "I like you better when you're sad," whereas Ragatha says "You're kind of annoying when you have your happy mask."

IMO, it's a HUGE difference. I mention in part 1 why I think Jax is implying he doesn't necessarily dislike when she's happy! I'll be continuing my talk in Ragatha here, although I recommend checking out part 1 before this, so it starts to make more sense!

ALRIGHT! HERE WE GO!

Like I said in part 1, almost everyone knows that Ragatha is a people pleaser. Gangle especially knows this.

You can tell Gangle's already had these thoughts for a while. It's easier to tell if you hear it from the episode because of the tone, but you get the picture, hopefully!

I'd like to note, Gangle says "After a while," which also helps imply she's had these ideas for a while.

I see a lot of people hear this bit and wonder what Gangle's talking about when she says this line, or just breeze right over it which kind of bothers me, considering Ragatha literally JUST said she finds Gangle annoying when she's happy, but that's besides the point, just something I find odd.

I have a lot of feelings about the Jax vs Ragatha wording, but I guess part 1 and this part is all I can really say without getting TOO emotional over it, so I'd like to move onto my next thing!

Gangle Is ALSO A People-Pleaser.

(probably moreso than Ragatha)

Let's begin with the obvious. A people-pleaser is someone who only wants to please others, regardless of what they feel. At least, that's the basics. There are different levels/layers of people pleasers, and I believe Gangle may be on a higher level then Ragatha when it comes to that.

Gangle is... unhealthy, insecure, wants to disappear, and both mentally and physically fragile.

But anyway, Ganglwait what where did my paragraph go... okay i lost it somehow UM ANYWAY

I will be honest, I have a LOT to say about Gangle's fragility, but that would include straying from the mainly-ep-4 focus post. If yall ever want me to go full-blown Gangle Ramble and include every episode, then I'm more than happy to do that! But as it stands right now, here's just a few mentions!

It's easy to see more of Gangle's people-pleasing tendencies, and exactly how mentally screwed up she is through other episodes and even her character introductions, which I'd LOVE to get into, BUT NOT NOW!!!

She doesn't want to cause problems. Honestly, nobody does, but Gangle especially. This episode, you can tell she thinks she's holding everyone back. When she finally gets to be confident and in charge, she's told she's annoying. She 'causes a problem'. That's not what she wants to do.

When Pomni says "We're doing another one of these," Gangle changes.

She was willing to talk at first, although hesitant.

Her reaction is NOT Pomni's fault by the way, I wanna say that right now before someone says anything.

Gangle was willing to talk, until Pomni said "We're doing another one of these..." where Gangle then fully looks away and stops talking.

She doesn't want to cause a problem. She really, really doesn't. She has a tendency to let things happen to her and not say anything about it. I don't mean to keep up the comparison of Ragatha vs Gangle's people-pleaser scale, but I did name the title of this section that so...

When things happen to Ragatha or others, she says something about it. Especially if it's Jax that caused it. But Gangle? She never says anything.

That 'training' was the only thing similar to speaking out that she's ever done. And just minutes after, she got put down.

She did not say a thing after. Nothing about her being sad, being hurt by Ragatha's comment. Just "I'm going to go over here now," walking into a corner, and standing there.

(side note: Something I find funny is when she's rambling about herself going absolutely insane and Jax says "oh great. 😒" and just listens to her 😭 he doesnt say anything else just listens.

i say listens but that man is NOT❌️❌️ listening)

OH WAIT speaking of that rambling, it has just now occurred to me!

It's uh... pretty obvious she's losing it.

I'm sure everyone and their grandmother caught this, but I thought it's neat how she was very clearly talking to herself when she said "And you need to stop trying!", and in her mini-breakdown said "Will we ever achieve our dreams?!"

I don't think that really ties into the people-pleaser thing, just something i thought of!

Although MAYBE it can tie into that if we went the "she's telling herself to stop trying to reach her dreams, but wants everyone else to be happy!" but I think that's either too big a stretch or way too obvious. Probably both.

HWAA ANOTHER PART??!? okay maybe ill just include the other episodes for this people pleaser bit too!

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ansleyyquinn · 10 days ago

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CHOI SU-BONG X FEM!READER(pink is reader,purple is thanos and red is the robot

The last thing I expected was to see him here.

The room buzzed with nervous energy—hundreds of players, all dressed in matching green tracksuits, shifting anxiously under the cold fluorescent lights. Some whispered, some prayed, and others sat in stunned silence, still processing what they had gotten themselves into.I had barely wrapped my head around my own situation when a deep, familiar voice cut through the noise.

“Señsorita?”

My stomach dropped.I turned slowly, already knowing who I would see. And there he was—Thanos.His towering frame loomed over the others, his eyes locked onto mine with an intensity that sent a shiver down my spine. He looked… different. His face was sharper, his body leaner, but the biggest change wasn’t physical. It was in his eyes.For a moment, neither of us spoke. The weight of our past hung between us, heavy and unspoken.Then he took a step closer.“Thanos,” I managed to say, my voice steadier than I felt.His lips curled into something that wasn’t quite a smirk, wasn’t quite a smile. “Didn’t think I’d see you again.” “Same,” I admitted, crossing my arms. “Though I guess it shouldn’t surprise me. You always did have a habit of making reckless choices.”His smirk faded. “And you always had a habit of walking away.”A sharp pang of anger stabbed through me. “I didn’t walk away. You pushed me away. You and those drugs.”Silence. A flicker of something guilt, maybe crossed his face. But before he could respond, a robotic voice crackled through the speakers.“Players, prepare for the first game.”

Our conversation was over. For now.

___________________________________

The first game started, the air was filled with screams.People dropped one by one, their bodies hitting the ground with sickening thuds. I forced myself to block it out, to focus on moving when the doll’s head was turned away.I had almost fallen near the finish line when I felt someone grab my waist to steady me.

Thanos.

His grip was firm but not forceful. His eyes darted around, scanning for danger before locking onto mine.“Stay close to me, señorita,” he murmured.It was the way he said it like a promise, like a plea that made my heart clench. I hated that part of me still responded to him.Against my better judgment, I nodded.And together, we made it across.

_____________________________________

The announcement of the next game sent a wave of murmurs through the players.“Pair up into a group of 5”I barely had time to react before a strong hand wrapped around my wrist.“You’re with me,” Thanos said firmly. It wasn’t a question.I should have said no. I should have found someone else. But deep down, I knew I didn’t want to face this game with anyone but him.“Fine,” I muttered.We found 3 other players to play it with(se-mi,nam-gyu and min-su)(sorry gyeong-su)“I’ll play gonggi” “Sure señorita”

____________________________________ “Mingle” sounded innocent enough—until we realized it was a social elimination game. Alliances were being made left and right.

_____________________________________

Tensions were high. Fights broke out. And then came the worst part—the bathroom fight.Player 333 had a fork,Thanos twisted at the last second. The fork sank into his shoulder instead of his neck. A guttural snarl tore from his throat as he elbowed his attacker, sending them sprawling. Blood soaked his tracksuit, but he didn’t stop moving.I didn’t even know what was happening until the robotic voice started announcing eliminated players in the fight.I froze hoping that thanos was okay.Then i saw him run…Straight to me.I barely had time to register the pain in his face before he grabbed my wrist, his blood smearing onto my skin.gripping his arm to steady him. “You’re bleeding.” “Not the first time,” he muttered. “Won’t be the last.”But despite his words, despite his usual bravado, he didn’t let go of me.

____________________________________

That night, after everything had calmed down, I found him sitting on one of the bunk beds, pressing a makeshift bandage from my jacket to his wound I sat beside him without a word.For a long time, we just sat there, the silence stretching between us. Then, finally, I spoke.“You almost died today.”He let out a slow breath. “Yeah.”I turned to face him fully. “Why did you run to me?”He met my gaze, and for once, there was no arrogance, no deflection. Just honesty.“Because you’re the only thing that still matters,” he admitted. “Even after everything. Even after I screwed up.”My heart twisted. “Thanos…”He reached for my hand, his fingers brushing over mine. “I’m not asking for forgiveness, señorita. Just… let me keep you safe.”I should have walked away. I should have said no.But instead, I squeezed his hand. ”You always were an idiot,” I murmured. He chuckled, then winced. “Yeah. But I’m your idiot.” And for the first time since this nightmare started, I let myself believe that maybe—just maybe—we could survive this.

Together.

#choi su bong x reader #thanos squid game x reader #player 230 x reader #squid game x reader

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mrs-kmikaelson · 2 years ago

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06| The Tribrid

Pairing: Klaus Mikaelson x daughter!reader Summary: While you busy yourself with making sure the deal with the witches runs smoothly, Klaus occupies himself by trying to figure you out. Warnings: none Words: 4.4K

Masterlist | Part 7

I walked into my house, throwing my keys on the side-table next to the door and shrugging off my jacket. I checked my watch: 2:01 PM, so Davina was still at school and wouldn't be back 'til she was done practicing with the witches.

I just got back from lunch with Elijah where we went over the Mikaelson's terms in more detail. Genevieve had sent a witch to the Abattoir earlier like a carrier pigeon with an outline of their requests.

Pretty dramatic, if you ask me, but she was like just resurrected. She probably doesn't know how to text yet, so whatever.

After Elijah and I talked over everything, I left, telling him I'd type up the contract myself. As an immortal with plenty of time on my hands, I've gone to law school and pursued numerous careers, as I'm sure Elijah probably had, too, so there was no need to hire (compel) someone else to write this contract for us.

I made my way to my room, passing Davina's on the way which was filled with boxes and a few things placed haphazardly on the ground. My room looked a little different: pretty plain, bed parallel to the door. Normal, basically.

I walked into my adjoining walk-in closet which was probably the most interesting thing about this room. At first glance, it looked mundane; there were some eye-catching statement pieces, but this closet otherwise just looked like a closet.

Unless you knew what to look for.

I closed the closet door for good measure and turned to the back wall, waving my hand and muttering, "Invisique saeclum." Instantly, the illusion of the wall disappear and another, smaller, more compact room was revealed.

It was lined with shelves, books stacked on top of each them. I walked closer, going to pick up the book closest to me. My grimoire. Like the rest of the books in this closet, it was dusty. I haven't needed to look for a spell in a long while.

I placed it down on the island in the middle of the room before turning to find the other book I needed. Under a few other books, I found what I was looking for: Amelia's grimoire.

I put it down next to mine, staring at both of them. Strong nostalgia came over me. I hadn't looked at her grimoire in long time, or even my own, for that matter. Both of them should have been worn down now after all these years, but a simple preservation spell kept them in pristine condition, looking just as they had when I was younger.

My lips quirked up as I ran my hand along their covers, memories flashing before my eyes of my childhood. But as quick as the happiness came, it disappeared with the thought of how that very childhood was stolen from me.

Enough with memory lane.

I switched my focus onto the purpose of even grabbing these books, opening my grimoire and flipping through it until I found the page I was looking for.

Illusion spells.

While I was very familiar with this type of spell, the one I wanted to perform was a little different. It was similar to the average cloaking spell, but I wanted a physical manifestation of an object: a decoy.

I wasn't stupid. I was never going to give Genevieve my aunt's grimoire. The only reason the witches wanted something so powerful was for leverage, and they weren't gonna get it. I knew all this last night, so instead of actually giving them Amelia's grimoire, I'd give them a copy.

But this copy had to feel real, tangible. Its energy needed to be able to be sensed in the same way it was with the real thing. They needed to feel like they could trust us, even if the Mikaelsons—or myself, for that matter—didn't trust them.

The thing with magic was that it worked through energy. Witches have their own special type of energy that enables them to perform spells. That's why you could practice magic without incantations; so long as the intent was there and it was strong enough, then your spell would work.

The reason why we often do use incantations is because words hold power. The history behind them holds enough energy to basically back the spell up. So, if you were using spells that weren't your own, then you would also want to use the chant because, without one, your own intent wouldn't be strong enough for the magic to pull through.

That's why I was going to change the incantations written down altogether.

At first, I was gonna exclude certain pages from Genevieve's copy completely, but then I realized that, without the powerful spells, she'd be less likely to trust us. So then I just change them so that they still made sense, but wouldn't work.

Without the written incantations that Bennetts had chanted in the past, these spells would be useless. If the words didn't hold any significance, then they were pointless.

Which was exactly my goal.

I hovered my left hand over Amelia's grimoire, hovering the other over blank space on the island. I closed my eyes and began, "Phantamogriphia decorum, appearatas veridical. Phantamogriphia decorum, appearatas veridical." After repeating this a few times, I felt the emergence of energy into the room and opened my eyes to see a book identical to Amelia's under my right hand.

I picked it up, flipping through it and stopping every once in a while to alter a spell, muttering incantations under my breath so the words on the page would appear as if they were Amelia's handwriting.

When I was done, I set it down on the island to compare it to Amelia's real grimoire. It was almost impossible to tell the difference unless you actually knew her. There was only a slight difference in the energy emitting from each book, but I knew this was fool-proof.

With a grin, I returned mine and Amelia's grimoires to their spots, bringing the cloak of the wall back. I grabbed the fake and stuffed it into my bag, tossing it onto a chair in my room. For now, I'd go type up the contract, then I'd walk over to the compound to give it to Elijah.

With that, I walked over to my office.

THIRD PERSON, THE NIGHT BEFORE

Klaus stood off to the side while his brother and his latest fixation spoke to the witches. He was silent; Elijah already warned him earlier not to cause a fuss, and the last thing he wanted was a fight with a Elijah. He had enough to deal with, this agreement included.

This evening, however, was not something he wanted.

Klaus couldn't care less if the factions tore each other apart in the streets. All of this was Elijah's doing, and so Klaus was only there to oversee it. Truth be told, he wasn't even going to show until Elijah told him Y/N was going to be there.

That caught his interest.

He couldn't figure it out, but there was something about this girl that pulled him to her. She looked familiar; he just couldn't pinpoint where he knew her from.

It seemed that others found her just as fascinating. For some reason, she had the trust of the Quarter's residents, but she wasn't going to get Klaus' trust so easily.

There was something off about her, something far greater than familiarity. And he was going to figure it out.

No matter what.

His attention was drawn away from Y/N when Genevieve cut her off. The words that came out of her mouth had stunned him.

"Esther Mikaelson's grimoire. We want Esther Mikaelson's grimoire."

Elijah's request for peace this evening suddenly went over his head. He scowled, "Are you out of your mind?"

"Niklaus-"

"I am not giving you my mother's grimoire. After what you tried to do to my family, you expect me to hand over-"

"Niklaus." Klaus stopped, turning to look at Elijah. His jaw clenched when he saw the look on his brother's face. He calmed down slightly, glancing at Y/N, wondering how she was going to talk her way out of this one.

Even as he glowered at Genevieve, he couldn't help but feel smug. There was no way out of this, and the oh so special Y/N would fail.

Or so he thought.

Y/N declined her request, as he predicted. Genevieve went to pull out of the deal, as he predicted. What he didn't predict was what Y/N said next.

"I currently have a Bennett grimoire in my possession." His head snapped in her direction. His eyes met Elijah's who looked just as surprised as him. He glanced over at the witches who luckily didn't notice their reactions, too engulfed in shock of their own. "It's yours, so long as you accept."

The rest of the conversation became muffled to Klaus, as if he were underwater. He could tell she wasn't bluffing—that, or she was a really good liar. He suspected that both were true. So many thoughts ran through his head at once.

While he thought she must have won Elijah over with that save, this only deepened his own distrust in her. A Bennett's grimoire was extremely hard to come by. They were guarded as if they were the holy grail. If he, the Original Hybrid, wasn't able to get his hands on one, then how did a mere vampire acquire one?

And why was she giving it up like it was pocket change?

He tuned back into the conversation when all parties stood up, Y/N and Genevieve shaking hands and exchanging pleasantries that he didn't care for. As Elijah walked the witches out, Klaus didn't glance at Genevieve once, even though he felt like glaring at her whenever he saw her. Instead, his glare was directed to Y/N.

Their eyes locked, and Y/N only continued to surprise him by staring right back. She was confident, and assertive, and unfazed with every comment he threw her way. He kept trying to shake her, but she appeared to be rooted to her spot every time. This only annoyed him.

He was so focused that he didn't even notice when his brother walked back into the room. Elijah thanked her, making Y/N look away to respond. Klaus had an inkling that Elijah wouldn't bring up what just happened, so he had no choice but to be the one to do it.

"How do you have a Bennett grimoire in your possession?" He interrogated, suspicion audible in his voice. Elijah gave him a look that was ignored.

He watched Y/N's body language as she responded, looking for any signs of a lie. "I met one a few hundred years ago. She died after she was in the wrong place, wrong time, but she left that book to me."

She must take me for a fool, he thought. The nerve of her to think he'd believe that. "A Bennett witch left her grimoire with you, a vampire? Not with her family?" He enunciated each word slowly as if to emphasize his point.

A Bennett witch leaving something as valuable as her grimoire to a member of the species they hated was unheard of.

Y/N gave an excuse, saying the witch wasn't close with her family at the time, as if that made it any more believable. "And I was human at the time so, yes, she left it to me because she knew it could come of use one day."

She showed no indication that she was lying, and if her story was real, then her excuses were reasonable. Perhaps if the story were coming from someone else, he would've rolled over and believed it. But this was coming from Marcel's supposed 'best friend,' the woman who so happened to be there the night Hayley was almost attacked, who had his brother so interested in her that he forced him to allow Marcel back into the Quarter all for the sake of a deal. This was coming from the woman who reminded him so much of a ghost from his past.

So, no, Klaus did not believe her.

Elijah, on the other hand, didn't look as vexed. He cleared his throat and changed the subject, thanking her again. Y/N turned around, making plans for another meeting. She didn't look back at Klaus once, but he was staring at her until even after she walked out the gate.

Elijah sighing broke him out of his trance. "Must you be so difficult, Niklaus?"

Klaus rolled his eyes. "If you want to turn a blind eye to all of this, then by all means. But this woman is so obviously hiding something." He reached for his scotch, downing the rest of it in one go.

"Niklaus, please-"

He cut him off, "No, Elijah—you can't honestly be telling me that you don't see what I'm seeing. She acts as if she's guilty of something-"

"Innocent until proven guilty."

Klaus scoffed. Elijah's immediate impulse to see the best in everyone could very well one day be his downfall. For some reason, he was defending Y/N, even though they both knew the only reason they really brought her in was because he saw the same things Klaus did.

Klaus shook his head. "She's not who she says she is." This time, Elijah's response didn't come as quick. He only silently maintained his stare. Little did Klaus know, his brother had doubts of his own.

Elijah's response never came. He closed the book on the conversation completely. "Good night, Niklaus." Elijah walked way, patting Klaus' shoulder as he passed him before going up the stairs. The hybrid cursed him in his head. How could he be so stupid, he thought.

He knew you were hiding something.

And he would make it his personal job to figure out what it was.

FIRST PERSON, PRESENT

I closed my laptop, having just printed out the contract. With Marcel, contracts were never necessary; you would just trust the other person's word. But, in this new society, trust could not be guaranteed.

I sighed, checking the time. Davina should be home any minute now.

Right on cue, I heard a knock at the door. I furrowed my brows. Didn't I give her a key?

She must have left it her by accident. Not thinking anything of it, I got up, walking to the door absentmindedly. "Hey, Dav-" my words died down in my throat once I opened the door. Standing in front of me wasn't Davina.

It was Klaus.

He coyly smiled. "Hello, Y/N. May I come in?" For a quick second, I was stunned. I wasn't expecting this at all. How did he even know I lived here? I wondered before dismissing the thought. He's Klaus Mikaelson; of course, he knows where I live.

I quickly composed myself, reciprocating his smile, only hoping that mine didn't look as fake as his. I held the door open wider. "Of course." The act of Klaus stepping over the threshold into my home almost made me sick, but I didn't dare show it on my face.

"Lovely home you have here," he said, looking around, but I doubted he was just looking out curiosity, and that compliment felt nothing like a compliment to me. What the fuck is he doing here?

I thanked him, resisting the urge to cross my arms. I learned in the few psych classes I attended that it was a sign of discomfort. I instead tried to make myself less stiff, asking myself how a normal person would act in this situation and then trying to behave that way.

"Would you like something to drink? Water, tea, Brandy....?"

Klaus shook his head, declining. He still wasn't looking at me, continuing to stare at my house. He seemed to be searching for something, and I had an idea what it was.

Well, he wouldn't find it.

I skipped over the like five other questions I had, asking, "What brings you here?" I kept my voice light, even though he probably knew that I knew what he was doing. I was already gonna be heading over to the compound later where he would've seen me. He had no reason to be here other than to look for some sort of flaw.

Finally, Klaus looked over at me. "Elijah's currently preoccupied, so I told him I'd just come here and get what you were supposed to give to him." Bullshit. But I'd play this game. I've won far harder ones.

I reminded myself of the pact I made to myself when I left the compound yesterday, of everything I've endured over the course of my life. If I went through what I went through, then I could go through speaking to my father.

I faked nonchalance. "Right, the contract. I'll go get that right now." I went to my room, grabbing the stapled pages and Amelia's grimoire out of my bag, ignoring the fact that the hybrid could've done anything in the less than thirty seconds I left him alone. However, when I got back, he seemed to be in exact same spot, waiting patiently for my return.

"Here," I said, handing them to both to him. He hummed, flipping through the pages—though, I doubt he was reading anything, even though the contents of the folder I just gave him were only drafted in attempts to save his city.

But I didn't have to have known Klaus long to know that this wasn't about saving anything for him. Men like him didn't save; they destroyed, and my mother raised me well enough to make sure I never forgot that.

When he closed the folder, he looked at the grimoire with a serious stare. I would've been worried that he was trying to see past my glamour had I not been as strong as I was. Nobody could see past my illusions other than myself; it's always been that way, and it'll always be that way.

Instead, I could bet he was questioning its authenticity or even my authenticity. The white lie I gave the other night was convincing enough to get me out of the compound, but since Klaus was looking for any reason to support his distrust in me, he obviously still had reservations.

Before I could continue with my train of thought, Klaus looked up at me and abruptly questioned, "Where are you from?" My brows went up. Out of all the things he could've said, that was on my list of least expected.

But I wasn't expecting any of the other things that'd happened in my life since I returned to New Orleans, either.

My first instinct was to respond, why do you ask? but that felt defensive and that was the last thing I wanted to come off as to my father. I told him what I told most people who asked. "A little bit of everywhere, I suppose." I shrugged for effect. "I was travelling at a young age due to conflicts around my family, so I was all over Europe as a child."

The suspicion Klaus so eagerly showed me the other night was tucked away. Instead, he only hummed again, but clearly he didn't believe me; otherwise, he would've left it alone, but I could never be so lucky.

"And how old are you? If you don't mind my asking," he added, as if he cared about whether not I minded.

I didn't hesitate. "About five hundred years old, give or take."

He hummed in response, adding to my irritation, but I was much better at hiding what I was thinking than he was. Not that he was trying. "Well, I suppose I should've assumed so since the Bennett witches had fled to America around that time period." He stared me dead in the eye, a smug smile on his face but a much more serious look in his eyes.

He was pretty close to me, close enough that I could see his eyes—and I mean really see them. They were blue with twinges of green and brown that I hadn't seen from far away before. And even though almost nothing scared the crap out of me more than the fact that his eyes looked like mine, I stared right back like I had no fears at all.

"Yeah, that's true," I agreed, but I didn't offer anything further. The only other things I could've added to this conversation to convince him I wasn't lying were facts from my personal life and that was information I wouldn't soon give up.

I didn't know how well Klaus knew my mother before they conceived me, if he knew her best friend's name or even her own, for that matter. So there were some details I just had to keep to myself; revealing certain things may have had the ability to help me, but they could also hurt me just as easily.

That was a risk I wasn't going to take.

Klaus just kept staring at me, and I almost thought he'd never look away until the door opened. We both turned to see Davina in the doorway, keys in her hand.

Her mouth fell open slightly, eyes darting between me and the Original in our living room. Said Original broke the silence. "Ah, if it isn't the little witch."

I watched Davina swallow but still manage to glare at him. "Klaus."

Klaus held his hands up in surrender, that same "friendly" smile on his face that was anything but. "Relax, love. I come in peace." He then looked back over at me. "I was just leaving." With that, he walked toward the door. Back still turned to me, he uttered a thank you for what I gave him and wished us a wonderful night, patting Davina on the shoulder on his way out.

The teenager barely waited until Klaus was out the door to close it, looking over at me with incredulous eyes. Just as her mouth was about to open, I brought my finger to my lips, silently shushing her and pointing to my ear.

She got the message, exasperatedly sighing and running a hand through her hair while I used my hearing to listen to Klaus walk away. Once I could no longer hear his footsteps, I let my finger fall. Davina instantly let her questions loose.

"What the hell was he doing here? Why'd you let him in- no, how did he get in? What was that stuff he walked out with and why did that book look like a grimoire? Oh my God, does he know that you're a-"

I cut her off, "Davina. Slow down and I'll explain." At my interruption she paused, taking a breath. I couldn't help but be amused at her worry, even though the Devil himself had just been standing in my living room.

Once she was calm, I elaborated, summarizing the deal I'd made with Elijah and then the deal we'd just made with the witches. Although I trusted Davina, I gave her the same story I gave Klaus when it came to the grimoire. There were some things just better kept secret and, for now, Amelia Bennett and my family fell under that category.

After I'd explained everything, Davina nodded to herself, soaking it all in, muttering under her breath, "That must've been what everyone was talking about today, a deal with the Mikaelsons." She pursed her lips. "Yeah, I heard Genevieve and some others whispering something about a Bennett witch, so it must've been that."

I nodded. "Yeah, and as for Klaus being here, I let him in myself. Don't worry; the protections are fine." She finally seemed to calm down after that.

"Okay, I guess I'll just go do my homework now or something. See you, Y/N/N." I ruffled her hair as she walked past me, getting a faux angry pout that didn't last long before a smile started to form on her lips. Like her happiness was contagious, the corners of my lips upturned, too.

It was good to see her happy, busying herself with things like homework. That's what teens should be doing, not hiding away in attics, isolated from humanity. Death shouldn't have even crossed her mind but I knew that, living in the world we lived in, that wasn't an option.

In spite of that, I would do my best to preserve her childhood for as long as I could. There was no one there to do that for me, and I'd be damned if I would just stand by and watch as hers was stolen from her.

Davina meant too much to me to allow that to happen, but even so, there were still things about me that she didn't know. There were things about me that no one knew, no matter how close to me they'd gotten.

No one knew I was Klaus' daughter, no one but Amelia, my mother, and the person who killed her.

At that thought, my mood became sour, but instead of drowning in my own self-pity, I blocked the thoughts completely. I couldn't afford to be in New Orleans with Klaus Mikaelson watching my every move and to also think about that part of my past.

So I pulled out my phone and dialled until Cellie's voice filled my ear, "Hey, what's up?"

"Hey, let's go out. We can hit up that new club downtown. And call Cami up, too; we can all go and just have fun."

"Not that I oppose this in anyway, but what brought up this spontaneousness?"

"Nothing," I lied. "I just want to have a night-out on the town. C'mon, Marcel; don't be boring."

He gave in, "Alright, alright, fine. I'll call Cami."

I grinned. "Great; meet at my place." Before he could say anything else, I hung up on him. This was just the sort of thing I needed, to go out like everything was normal.

I rushed to go get ready, pushing all thoughts of Klaus and my past to the back of my mind. For one night, just one, I wanted to feel like myself again.

Ever since I got back to New Orleans, I've felt like this shell of myself. Around the Originals, I felt like little-kid-me. All of these memories and thoughts that I've worked to repress have just been resurfacing, and so, for one night, I just want to feel like myself again. That'll help me get it all together.

I was gonna go out tonight, not as a Mikaelson, but as a Y/L/N.

And after that, I was gonna bury Y/N Mikaelson for good.

Taglist: @scrynexxtins @thisnameistaken1234 @honestlycasualarcade @xlittlestarling @thatgirljas13

#klaus mikaelson x reader #klaus x daughter!reader #klaus mikealson fanfiction #klaus mikaelson #the originals #the mikaelsons #tvd #tvd fandom #tvdu #angst #davina claire #marcel gerard #imagines #tvd fanfic #tvd fanfiction #klaus mikaelson imagine #klaus mikaelson fanfic

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goreandbunnies · 2 months ago

Text

⛧☾༒︎ 𝔇𝔢𝔳𝔬𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫 ༒︎☽⛧

Sukuna x Reader, Toji x Reader

Summary ๋࣭ ⭑⚝"Almost six months after meeting him, I had finally managed to escape. At least that's what I thought, hidden in that alley, holding my breath and waiting for the search party to get further away from my spot. But this city was his, he had eyes everywhere. I needed to leave as far away as I could."

Warnings ๋࣭ ⭑⚝ Explicit language, sexual explicit scenes, sexual assault, drugs and alcohol, explicit violent scenes, gun violence, emotional and physical manipulation, dub-con, mentions of cults, blood and blood play, knife play.

Word count ๋࣭ ⭑⚝ 28k (in progress)

Dividers by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more & @cafekitsune

ℭ𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 3

“Where’s Brad?” I sit up, wrapping the jacket tighter around me.

The pink haired man and his friend looked at one another and smirked. I noticed the first one didn’t have his jacket anymore and my cheeks flushed. He then stared at me, head tilted to the side.

“Why? You miss him?” He smirked. His voice was pure sensuality and devilish. “Thought we were doing you a favor,” he said as he dropped heavily on the couch next to me.

“I… Thank you,” I breathed, glancing at the ice pack on the couch.

“I was messing with you, no need to thank us,” he sat back, winking at me. “I won’t let a rapist inside my club.”

“Oh, you’re… right,” I sighed, a little relieved. “I’m friends with Ben and Amy, I’m here with them tonight,” I stuttered, unable to focus on anything but his eyes. I had never seen a pair of brown eyes that looked like that, an odd shade, almost red.

“I know,” he nodded, eyebrows raised. “You weren’t the only one staring earlier, right, Toji?” The pink haired man readjusted the rolled up sleeves of his black shirt, showing off more lines tattooed around his wrists, the blood on his knuckles had already dried.

“Right,” Toji replied stoically, leaning against the wall across from the couch. I felt cornered by two predators.

“Forgive him, he doesn’t talk much,” the man next to me smirked playfully at his friend.

“And you talk way too fucking much, Sukuna,” Toji spat back. Reading between the lines, I understood that these two went way back. Just like Amy and I. Opposites yet inseparable. Both snickered at their inside joke and I took that as my cue.

“I should go back to the party, let them know I’m okay,” I tried to stand up but both my nerves and the head injury got the best of me.

Sukuna’s strong arms were around me in a heartbeat, gently helping me back on the couch. The proximity between our two bodies instantly raised mine’s temperature, mostly because of the feel of his skin against mine. His jacket smelled good but the source of that scent itself was intoxicating.

“They know you’re here,” he reassured me, now sitting right next to me, so close I felt his breath brushing my cheek. “And you shouldn’t move. We have someone on their way to check that injury,” he grabbed the ice pack and gently replaced it at the back of my head. “Hold that for me, okay?” He smirked again, my heart missing a beat, making me wonder if he knew how to give a simple smile.

My hand cupped his hesitantly as I placed it over the ice pack, but instead of withdrawing his completely, he replaced it over mine, his gigantic palm firmly keeping both my hand and the pack in place. My cheeks warmed up as I looked away, still too conscious of Toji’s inquisitive look on me.

“You’re lucky I wasn’t busy tonight,” a woman said as she crashed into the room, breaking the ongoing tension, looking bored and annoyed already.

She was a small, elegant looking girl with bags under her eyes so dark you could’ve mistaken them for smudged makeup. Her overall look screamed casual, not detached but rather in a ‘I don’t give a fuck anymore’ way.

“We both know you have no social life other than Toji, me and the guy who sells cigarettes down your street, Shoko,” Sukuna said mockingly, readjusting the cold pouch against the back of my head, my hand still trapped under his.

“Fuck you too, Kuna,” the woman named Shoko replied as she came towards me. “I usually deal with injuries on dead people but I can make a few exceptions. What happened?” She asked, looking at both men, not at me.

“I-” I began, thinking that I was being asked. I was wrong.

“Our friend Elle here had an unfortunate encounter in the bathroom, someone knocked her against the wall and her head hit rather hard,” Sukuna chimed in, the sound of my name momentarily bringing me back to reality. Shoko shook her head.

“The girl can speak for herself, surely,” she muttered, but if the two men heard her, they didn’t comment. “Can you move over? I need to examine her,” she said clearly to Sukuna who only removed the ice pack from my head and sat back, arms splayed out as Toji kept watching us all like a hawk.

“Surely you can do it from here,” he nodded at her, not moving an inch.

I noticed her jaw tensing up ever so slightly before she turned to me and silently asked for my consent before doing her job. While she gently felt the back of my head and flashed a light in my eyes, I couldn’t help but take glances at the two men in the room with us.

Everything was surreal, why would they bother with me at all? Why not just call for an ambulance and send me away? How the fuck did they know my name? Why wasn’t I allowed some privacy as I was being asked about my symptoms? The questions kept coming as Shoko - who smelled like forbidden chemicals and tobacco - stepped away from me at last.

“You should be good to go, get some rest tonight and see your usual doctor if that headache doesn’t fade in the next twenty four hours,” she put away her flashlight and fished out a cigarette from her pocket. “Kuna, Toji,” she nodded politely before heading out, the door closing behind her reviving the tension in the room.

“I’ll call an Uber for you,” Sukuna said with a smirk, standing up to get his phone from a table nearby.

“Wait,” I raised my hand. “I’m thankful you two took care of my situation but I’m here to celebrate with my friends, I’m not leaving yet,” I frowned, feeling the headache fading already.

“You’re not going back,” Sukuna said, typing away on his phone.

“All due respect, that’s not your decision to make,” I stood my ground and stood up carefully. I snatched my sash and headed for the door.

But before I could lay a hand on the knob, an overly massive arm blocked it. I stepped back instinctively, looking up at an annoyed Toji. He towered over me like a mountain, his piercing gaze even scarier up close. Sukuna chuckled behind me.

“You heard her, she wants to go,” he said mockingly and I wondered if he ever got serious at all, that smirk seemed to be a permanent feature on his face.

Toji kept staring at me, his jaw tense and his eyes scanning mine before he eventually removed his arm from the door and even opened it for me. Somehow, I sensed the annoyance in his gesture - he was offended.

Well, so was I.

“You know you didn’t have to get rid of Brad if you were going to act like two patronizing assholes too,” I spat before strutting out, a little worried they’d come after me too.

* Half an hour later, after telling Amy many, many times that I was okay and after insisting I would sit in our booth just to be sure, I was about to give up and go home. The entire night had been exhausting and all I wanted was the comfort of my bed.

Amy and Ben were still very much awake, not showing any tiredness signs. My head was still sore but it was definitely improving. I had been sipping sparkling water, witnessing everyone around me getting drunk, including my best friend who still came around every ten minutes to make sure I wasn’t fainting. To sum it up? I was bored out of my mind. All I could think about was the two men who had saved my ass only to act like entitled assholes about it. I made sure never to look up at the damn balcony above us, but I felt like they were watching me.

My feeling only got confirmed a couple of minutes later when Ben cheered loudly out of the blue. I shrunk in my seat, trying to become invisible but the group was too close to the booth for me to ignore them. I looked up from my glass, only to see crimson eyes staring back at me as Ben hugged their owner.

Amy came to sit next to me and held my hand as Ben and Sukuna - followed closely by his massive bodyguard - joined us in the booth. I pressed Amy’s hand, a desperate attempt to make her understand my situation, but she only pressed it back and grinned happily. She was way past drunk, so I let that one slide.

“How are you feeling, Elle?” Sukuna asked, that smirk still glued to his lips. I ignored how perfect they looked and smiled politely.

“Much better, thank you,” I replied, a little too harshly. I still had no idea how he knew my name. He had probably checked the guest list Ben had given to him, or asked either of my friends earlier. Stalker. He turned to Amy.

“Your friend here refused to take an Uber earlier, even if she felt tired and had a headache from her injury,” he aimed his shot and hit the bullseye because I saw Amy’s eyes widening instantly.

“What?” She shrieked, looking at me, overly concerned. She’d make an incredible mother.

“That’s right, I offered but she insisted on staying,” Sukuna sat back and I saw his lips trembling ever so slightly. The manipulative bastard was trying not to laugh.

“Elle, it’s my party,” Amy said, a hand over her chest. “And I want you to go home to rest. I can’t have my maid of honor at the hospital for the big day,” to my horror, she turned to Sukuna and smiled at him. “Can you please call that Uber for her? I’ll pay for it if-” “No need, my dear. It’s already paid for and waiting outside,” he looked at her for a second before turning to me, all traces of sass gone from his face. This wasn’t an offer anymore. It was a threat.

“Come on, Elle, I’ll take you and you better text me when you get home,” Amy got up, no idea how given her state and gently pulled on my hand to drag me along.

“I’m fine, Amy. I can stay a little longer,” I said to my friend but she shook her head vehemently, leading me towards the stairs.

“You heard your friend, she wants you healthy for her wedding,” Sukuna stood up as well and walked Amy and I out of the VIP section.

I held onto my best friend’s hand tightly, focused on my feet as I walked downstairs. However, my safety net didn’t last long. Not ten steps down, someone called for Amy and, in her drunken haze, she promised she’d be back later.

“You can hold onto me,” Sukuna’s smirked reappeared in the club’s lights, mischievous and threatening as he offered his hand. “Toji wouldn’t mind either.”

I looked on the other side and saw the mountain standing a couple of steps above us. I smacked Sukuna’s hand away and kept heading downstairs, ignoring them both. They clearly didn’t care about my consent or my decisions, I wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of being polite or even acknowledge them at all.

We passed by the lobby and I headed for the desk to grab my jacket and purse, impatient to get the Hell away from my new friends. When the clerk appeared with my belongings, the pink haired man took them from him and handed me my purse before holding out the jacket to slip it around my shoulders.

For a second, I held his gaze, defiant, wanting to rip my free will back from his greedy hands. Whatever he saw in me had him entertained, no doubts about it. But the defiance triggered that dark look I had caught a glimpse of earlier at the booth. And that look did two things to me. Scared and turned me the fuck on. Annoyed, I snatched my jacket from his hand and hurried to the front door, my heels clicking on the black, shiny tiles. The faster I’d be away from him and the quiet one, the better.

The June night was chilly still and I regretted not wearing my jacket but I wouldn’t let either of them win. I was too damn stubborn for that. A single black car was waiting by the driveway so I assumed it was the Uber and headed for it, only to be stopped by a warm and strong hand holding me back by the arm.

Sukuna spun me around, my body pressed tightly against his, one arm wrapped around my waist as his other hand gently caressed my cheek and his thumb brushed my lower lip. I was frozen, unable to move or look away from his softened gaze and the lines inked on his face. He looked mesmerized and mirroring my own fascination, he grinned and bit his lower lip.

“We’ll be seeing you soon, Elle,” he whispered, intoxicating before gently removing my hands from his chest.

Realizing I had been holding onto him this whole time, I frowned and abruptly stepped away, staring at him and Toji, both looking very amused. The annoyance took over again, leading me back to the war waiting for me.

I didn’t look at either of them as I jumped in the Mercedes, or when I slipped on my jacket at last. But as the car drove away, my curiosity got the best of me and I discreetly checked through the tinted windows, only to see both men - one with his hands in his pockets, the other with his arms crossed over his chest - staring back at the car as I headed home, away from the weirdest - and hottest encounter of my entire life.

Taglist ♥ @sweetlandspos @tojislittleprincesss @paradisestarfishh @unheavenlypacked

#sukuna x reader #sukuna x smut #jjk sukuna #toji x reader #sukuna fanfic #toji fanfic #jjk x you #jjk x reader #goreandbunnies #tw dark content #tw non con

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malfoy-mrsdracomalfoy · 27 days ago

Text

Club Neon Lights

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Fem!Reader

House: Unspecified

Warning: Alcohol consumed and mentioned. Public intoxication.

Word Count: 8491

Summary: Draco and Fem!Reader go to a nightclub with Pansy and Blaise. Chaos ensues. This is easily the most hilarious piece I have ever wrote. You will belly laugh.

author's note: This is my longest imagine I've written this far. Prepare to fall deeper in love with Draco. You'll live many lives with this bunch. Enjoy x

Reader's Point Of View:

Pansy starts giggling and gently nudges me. I look up from my homework, confused, and meet her eye.

"Look." She whispers and points across the table. I look over and see Blaise Zabini is passed out on the table, his cheeks pressed against his homework. He's snoring and Draco is building a house of cards on him.

Draco's face is completely concentrated, the focus only a Slytherin like him could achieve. He was analyzing the distance and weight of the cards, calculating. I know he had some complex Physics formula in his head. I shake my head with a smile and begin doing my assignment again.

Quietly I heard Draco's exasperated sigh and the whoosh of cards falling everywhere. He had built the card house so tall that he was now standing near the table instead of sitting like he was when he started building. By the looks of the mess, he almost used two entire decks on Blaise's sleeping head.

"Malfoy! Shove off." Blaise said slightly annoyed and still tired. He was glaring at Draco and was being met with a sly smile.

"A bit tired, yeah?" Draco teased Blaise.

"Yeah, a bit." Blaise looked at his friend and then smiled. He knew it was all in good fun. He stretches and yawns and his eyes meet Pansy's and then mine.

"You just watched him?" Blaise asks us in disbelief. Pansy laughed and said, "You were really knocked."

"Traitors. The lot of you." Blaise concludes, cleaning up his supplies. I cleaned the mess of cards with a quiet spell, all the cards were facing the same way, organized by suit and color and tucked neatly away into the boxes. Draco gives me an impressed look to which I pretend to brush off but secretly preen at.

"These classes are leaving me right knackered." Blaise says once he finished cleaning his mess. Pansy sidled up next to him and rubbed his back. "You've taken quite the load this term." She tells him. He nods and yawns again.

"We should do something fun, yeah? Blow off steam?" Pansy was looking at us each in turn. Six eyes stared back and she scoffed and rolled her eyes. "Come on! Club Neon?" She says, carrying her voice, tempting us. She looks at Blaise now. He's always up to party.

"Blaise?" He looks at her.

"Alright, I'm in." Blaise agrees and she cheers. "Dracooooo?" He takes his eyes off his book with an eyebrow raised. She scoffs at him.

"y/n?" I meet her and Blaise's pleading gazes. I sigh and Pansy cheers. She knows that's a reluctanct agreement but an agreement nonetheless.

"When?" I ask. Draco looks up from his book again.

"You're going?" He asks me.

"Yeah. Could be fun." He turns to Pansy and says,

"I'm going. Saturday?"

"Saturday!" Pansy jumps up and down in celebration.

"Saturday." I confirm. Blaise slings an arm over Pansy's shoulder and walks off with her. I look at Draco who is back to his book.

"Dragon." I say with a tease. He looks up at me with a suspicious look. "You can't have been to a nightclub." "How would you know?" He ask indignantly, his ego clearly bruised. "I'm Draco Malfoy. I could be out partying every night if I want to!"

"I know you party. I've hear about a few you've thrown. But a nightclub? Not a chance." He straightens up, a competitive gleam in his eyes. "Oh you want to make a bet on that?" He smirks. "I'll have you know I've been to several nightclubs in London. Only the exclusive ones."

"And an exclusive club no less!" I fake astonishment. His lips curve into a confident smirk, "Yes, only the exclusive ones darling. I don't discuss the paticulars with just anyone." He stands now, getting up off the chair and striding to me in his typical swagger.

"Oh? Do tell." He smirks and and looks at me confidentally. "You'll see this Saturday. Can you wait a two more days doll?" He teases me but I melt at the nickname anyway.

"We'll see then." I stand up, meeting his eye . We are now wearing matching smirks.

Saturday

Pansy has come over to my dorm to get ready. I watch as she applies a hefty amount of lip gloss. "Wow Pans, you're really out hunting tonight" I tease. She's wearing a body-con Slytherin-green dress that looks seconds away from ripping off her- it's so tight. I look down at her 5-inch heels she's casually wearing. I don't know how she balances so elegantly on those stilettos. She looks over and winks at me, "Maybe I'll be on the hunt tonight, finding my next prey..." I laugh.

"If Blaise acts up." She finishes shyly. This catches my attention.

"Blaise, hm Pans?" She slightly blushes and straightens a few more pieces of her already pin-straight hair.

"If you say anything I swear I'll steal your journal and send it to my father's publisher." She threats. I look at her and see these threats are actually coming from an insecure part of her. I walk up to her and run my hand down her arm, "I would never say anything. I promise. Not even as a tease." She looks at me with a smile and hugs me, her very strong perfume wafting up my nose. I pull back and gently sneeze into my sweater. She smiles sheeplishly. "Maybe I put on a little too much?" I give her a hug and tell her "It'll wear off as the night progresses. You'll see." She beams at me and then takes an appraising step back.

"Uh, y/n/n- why are you not dressed?" I look down at my sweater-skirt-black tight clad body.

"What do you mean? I am dressed." I say, confused.

"Yes babe and I love your elegant and timeless style, okay? It really suits you. But we are going a night club. That's not exactly..." She runs a hand down my sleeve "A sweater location." She looks to see my reaction. An idea flashes across her face and she apparates a black fabric in her hand. She hands it to me. "Here, babe. Try this. It's one of my favorites."

"Pans?" I look at the tiny fabric in my hand and then back at her again, "You and I are not the same size. This won't fit me. Have you seen my big booty judy? How about these?" I gesture to my larger-than-average boobs. She giggles.

"Those are from my own personal seamstress. The fabric is enchanted so it will adjust to anyone's size in the most flattering way. Give it a try." I look down at it warily again. "Okay...." I start and slide off my clothes.

"Wait!" Pansy stops me in my tracks.

"What?" I ask curiously. She's looking at my body with another appraising look. "You need to wear something sexier." She gestures to my bra and panties.

"Sexier? I wasn't planning on hunting tonight." I tease.

"Well maybe you should! Come on girl. It's a stress-relieving night. Got anything else? I know you do. You're always well-dressed." She compliments me. I get an idea.

"Well, maybe something..." I start. She squeals "Well? Go on! Let me see." She turns her back to me, focusing on the mirror again while I changed. I walk up behind her, a little unsure at first. She turns and her entire face lights up. "That's... perfect! That's perfect, babe. Wear that!" She cheers. I agree and she faces her reflection again.

I walk to my full-size gold-encrusted mirror and give myself a once over. I am wearing a matching bra and panty set. They're Slytherin green in case I needed to impress a certain platinum head.... I smile, satisfied and begin to pull down the tiny black fabric Pansy gave me. Sure enough it conformed to my body as I pulled it on. All my curves, hills and mountains were securely in. I look in the mirror and gasped. This garment fit me perfectly. I liked how it was snug against my boobs and butt and curves, but it didn't squeeze me like a body con would've. I look phenomenal.

I run to Pansy and she turns to me, a hand covering her mouth. "Babe! Wow!!!! You look! Oh my gosh! Babe you look so gorgeous! That fits you like skin." I giggle and give her a big hug. "Thank you so much Pansy! I am glad you made me change." I giggle and she winks. I sidle up next to her and finished my final look, twirling my finger around a particular unruly curl. It smoothed into place. I grab my favorite perfume and spray it on my neck, chest, wrists and behind the knees. All my pressure points covered. I am determined to smell good all night. I put on some extra deodorant to be safe. I step back. I'm ready. I look at Pansy and she's stepping back to give herself a final look again. "You look beautiful, Pansy." I say to her genuinely and she hugs me. "I love you, bitch." She says. I start laughing and respond "And I, you."

There's a knock on my door. Pansy and I look at each other in excitement. I slip on my heels. They're definitely shorter than Pansy's because I know I wouldn't have the grace and balance she has in those. We open the door, standing side by side.

We are met with two very handsome Slytherins with their jaw on the floor, looking between the two of us from head to toe.

"Wow! You guys look so hot." Blaise was the first to break the silence. He was wearing a Slytherin green button down with grey slacks, a brown belt matching his equally brown dress shoes. Draco elbows him. He has picked his jaw up now and it standing a little stiffer than usual.

"You ladies look lovely" He says simply, the vision of respect and poise. I looked at him and felt my heart start to race. He was wearing his all-black ensemble minus a tie. He looked so good I could devour him right here. I looked at how his black button-up layed just right on his broad chest. His blazer was slung over his shoulders, the bottom two buttons were clasped. Before I could imagine any dirty thoughts, Pansy said,

"Thank you Blaisey. You guys look great too." I smile and tear my eyes away from Draco who has been smirking at me while I was oogling him. "You do. Very handsome, the both of you." I say kindly to the boys. Pansy grabbed onto Blaise's bicep and said, "Let the night begin!" With her hand up in the air. I knew I shouldn't have let her down that travel-sized bottle of vodka. She giggled with glee and Blaise led her on.

I stepped outside my dorm, turning to lock my door when I felt eyes staring at me. I glanced over at Draco and saw he was lazily looking at my butt, letting his eyes rove over every shape of it. I spun quickly and decided it was best not to acknowledge it. I wanted to have fun tonight. He stuck his arm out in a very gentlemanly gesture. "Shall we?" The words rolled off his lips smoothly and deeply.

"We shall." I hooked my arm into the crook of his elbow and let him lead me.

We headed to the floo stations to get ready to go when a janitor comes to us and says, "Sorry folks, no can do. They're all out of service for the night. We're waiting on a maintenance man and he won't be here until morning."

"Surely they can work one last time? They look fine to me." Pansy says to him. I grab her hand and she looks at me. I mouth 'He's just doing his job. it's okay.' She sighs and Blaise pipes up "It's not a big deal. I'll get you in touch with my father. I'm Blaise Zabini." He's trying to use status to hustle this guy. I look over at the janitor and he has a flat expression. "I don't know any Zambeanies that can help the matter. It's still a no." The janitor replies, not recognizing the name at all.

Draco and I start laughing quietly at the mispronunciation. I turn my face into the side of Draco's black blazer, using my hand to cover it while I silently laugh. Draco is pretending to rub his nose to cover his own laughter. Blaise is fuming. He's about to go off on this poor man just trying to do his job. Pansy stops him with a firm grip on his elbow. "Let's just apparate?"

"Let's apparate." Draco confirms. He looks at me, still holding on to his arm. "Guess we'll go in pairs?" He looks at Pansy and Blaise who are holding hands and nodding. I hold on as I morph into Draco's black smoke, whirling through the air quickly. We made it across town in about 5 seconds. We land standing. His posture is so perfect if I wasn't within his smoke a few seconds ago I would swear we were just standing here the whole time. I wobble slightly. He steadies me with his firm arm. "Thank you." I say quietly. He nods and keeps his eyes trained on the sky while I observe our surroundings. Where are Pansy and Blaise? They should be here by now. I hear a loud whoosh and then a slight crash down the street from the club. Draco wastes no time leading me to see what happened, and I cling closer to him.

"Blaise you right fool! You mumbled and look where we landed! UGH!" I could hear Pansy's annoyed voice.

"Sorry Pansy Pop, geez you don't need to yell." Blaise is calm, he landed safely on his feet and Pansy landed on a dumpster lid near by. "And why did you get to land so softly?" She scoffs at him.

Draco chuckles deep in his throat, a hollow sound that vibrates his chest. "Hey guys! You made it." I tease, pulling away from Draco and helping Pansy down off the dumpster. She brushes her dress off. "Does it look bad?" She slightly twists her body and I look down at her perfect pilates-butt. "It looks fine. Not even dusty." I confirm. She smiles in relief and sends a withering look to Blaise before she begins to storm off. Heels clacking on the cement. I glace over at the boys, Blaise is now laughing and Draco is raising an eyebrow at him. "How did you manage that?" He asks Blaise. I didn't hear the answer Blaise mumbled because I turned to catch up to Pansy.

Once I did, I linked our arms and she smiled at me. "Thank you bestie. Let's get going!" She leads me to the line outside the very loud club. A red felt material has the entire front and side of the building roped off. Pansy approaches the end of the line, where there's club security. "Invitations, ladies?" He commands in his deep chesty voice. I gave him mine, still crisp and pristine. Pansy reaches down her top and the bouncer looks away respectfully. She fishes out her ticket that was snug in her bra. She hands it to him. Unfazed, he grabs the tickets, and slides a black light over them to make sure they're authentic. He lifts the rope and we get into line.

"Security's tight, hm?" I ask Pansy while I looked around at all the scantily-dressed people. One guy was wearing a white speedo and yellow furry space boots only. I shake my head in disbelief, "And they let that guy in?" I point at him where he's started doing the macarana at this girl he was trying to flirt with. She scoffs and turns her back to him. Pansy laughs her contagious belly laugh and I join in. We are hugging each other now, rocking back and forth while laughing.

"Missed us?" I feel a warm breath on my neck and my breathing hitched. I'm met with ice-blue eyes. Not being able to help myself, I lean back into him for a second. He gives me one rub down my back and leaves his hands at the small of my back. Right above the curve of my butt. I glance over and see Blaise is giving Pansy his pleading face and kissing her hand. She tries to ignore him but she's too fond of him. "Fine. You're forgiven. But you're buying me a drink." He agrees immediately and kisses her cheek. She blushes and giggles.

"Pansy and Blaise, hm?" Draco comments. I promised Pansy I wouldn't say anything so I just mustered a "Hm." The line moved. I feel Draco sliding his hand down so inconspicuously I wouldn't have noticed except for the fact he was skimming the top of my butt. When we reached the front of the line, Draco's hand was still on me but it was slid up to settle on my mid-back.

"Name?" The intimidating bouncer who was easily as big as Hagrid asks.

"Malfoy." Draco said calm, collected and with authority. The bouncers face changed immediately.

"Mr. Malfoy, please" He shuffles us all in before the door closes behind us. Pansy and Blaise make a beeline for the bar and I'm still being held by Draco. I look at him with surprise "Mr. Malfoy?" His eyes darken with lust when he hears me call him that but he quickly blinks it away.

"Yeah. I told you. I've been to plenty nightclubs." He meets my gaze looking as confident as ever. He gives me an appraising look, fully looking at me up and down. "New dress?" He pulls my hands up to his lips.

"It's Pansy's." I look down at my outfit with a smile. "Do you like it?" He replies with, "Let me see you." He holds me at arm's length and turns me, slowly, whistling lowly. When he's finished, he pulls me into him and whispers, "You look divine, darling." He slides his hands up and down my back.

"Oi! Are we drinking or are we making googly eyes?" Blaise. I chuckle and turn out of Draco's reach. He pulls me back into him and leans in to whisper, "I hope you're on your best behavior tonight." I feel a shiver running down my spine. He smirks and releases me, letting me walk ahead so he could see my form fully. I feel his eyes rove my entire frame.

I slip into the seat next to Pansy who is nursing a Pina Colada looking down-trodden. The bar tender walks up to me as I sit. "A cosmopolitan, please." He nods and begins to make my drink. I reach over and touch her elbow, "Hey babe, what's wrong?" I whisper to her, concerned. She nods towards Blaise. I look down the bar and see him flirting with two blondes. They're giggling and touching on him.

"Way to be classy Blaise" I say as I roll my eyes and rub her back. She nods, still upset. The bartender slides my drink to me with a wink. I giggle and give him a small wave. I look at my best friend Pansy. I hate when she's sad. An idea forms.

"Pans.." I say in my voice she recognizes too well as mischief. She looks at me intrigued. She drops the straw out of her mouth.

"Don't get mad. Get even." I tell her. She smirks immediately. Revenge is her favorite dish. She is a Slytherin, after all. "Let's do it." She is back to her very bold self. We look around the bar in search for our pursuits. I see two men, around our age, alone and looking at us already. I look at Pansy and she nods without saying anything. She's my girl, she knows me well.

She struts off, her drink forgotten. I carry my drink with me because there's no way I'm wasting it. The men eye us as we approach, smirks matching on their face. She slides next to the blonde one, and I slide in by the brunette with green eyes.

"Hello ladies." The brunette says

"I'm glad you joined us. We couldn't help but notice you two." The blonde agrees.

"Oh yeah? What did you notice?" Pansy says, bold now. I let her take the lead in pursuits like this. I can never be so effortlessly cool. She's the hot friend without a doubt.

"We noticed you could use some drinks?" The blonde says now, all eyes on her. The brunette looks at me with a shy smile. I return it. Suddenly, like a magnet pulling its match- I feel the energy shift and turn my attention to a certain platinum head, leaning against the bar and sipping a fire whiskey. His body is rigid. Too rigid. I think he's getting mad. I look over at Pansy who isn't even looking for Blaise anymore and is now smiling and flirting. I'm going to stay here. For her. I brush Draco's behavior off.

"Do you come here often?" The green-eyed boy asks me, trying to make conversation.

"This is my first time. Do you come here often?" He smiles gently and says, "No actually. I'm here because my friend over there" He nods to the blonde Pansy's flirting with, "Is a VIP around here I guess. He wanted me to get out of the house." He smiles genuinely, a dimple showing. I giggle and lean in, "Sounds very similar to me. Are you a homebody?" I ask him, feeling an attraction tug at my stomach. He's... sweet. He seems like a really sweet guy.

"Yes." He admits, seeming a little ashamed.

"Hey." I reach out and touch his hand gently. "I am too. It's just more comfortable. I don't blame you." I feel eyes burning the back of my head and already know who it is. I sense him miles away, especially when he's stewing. Draco.

"Yeah, it is huh? Shall I get us some drinks?" He nods at my empty cosmo. I nod. "That sounds good, thank you."

"Do you want the same drink?" He asks genuinely.

"You know what it is?" I ask, a little shocked. He chuckles a warm sound. "Of course I do. It's a Cosmopolitan. My sister gets those all the time." He smiles warmly. I feel a tug at my stomach and I nod. "Same for me then." He nods and walks away. Draco is glaring daggers at that poor guy while he's getting our drinks. I sigh. He better not ruin this night for Pansy and Blaise with his temper. The brunette returns with my drink. "Thank you!" I take a sip. I noticed he got firewhisky.

"Firewhisky, huh? Your go-to?" I ask, wanting to know more about him. He chuckles again. I can tell he's genuinely a happy man. "You caught me. This is my go-to. I like straight and to the point." He sends me a wink. Straight and to the point he wants? I lean into him, my e/c eyes looking into his moss-green. "Want to dance?" I say to him. He smiles widely and nods enthusiastically.

I turn to Pansy who is being absolutely worshiped by the blond in front of her. I smile, of course she has him wrapped around her little finger already. Effortlessly charming. He's kissing up her arm like a good little submissive boy. That's what she needed tonight. I lean in and whisper, "Hey Pans. I'm going to go dance. Back soon." She nods at me with a smile and then looks back down at the guy's lips on her.

I meet the brunette's eyes again and he smiles, "Ready?" He reaches for my hand. I tip my drink in my mouth in one smooth go. I am feeling pleasantly buzzed and ready to let loose. I grab his hand and he leads me to the dance floor with a spin. I giggle and almost loose my balance but he quickly steadies me.

I let myself get lost in the rhythm and turn to the brunette, hands on his chest and I begin swaying my hips. He smells pleasantly of Dial soap. I chuckle, he's a simple man. I like that. For tonight. He lets me choose however I feel comfortable dancing, he doesn't tug or demand things from me. It's so nice. A nice night with a nice man. Pansy orders me a third cosmopolitan, and sets it on our table next to her for me to get when I'm thirsty again.

I feel my buzz intensify and I turn and beginning grinding on him. He has a buzz going too so he grips my hips. I lean back, pushing my shoulder blade to his shoulder as I glance over at him. He's now pressed flushed up against me, a small blush at the closeness. "I never got your name?" I say quietly, knowing he can hear me at this proximity. "Oliver." He says with a smile. Oliver. That fits him perfectly. "Oliver. I'm y/n" He spins me so I'm facing him now, holding both my hands. "Nice to officially meet yo-" He suddenly stops mid-sentence and looks behind me. I watch his reaction before turning myself.

Draco is walking to me, very intently and very.... furious. "She's with me." He says simply and tugs me away, arms wrapped around my stomach. "Wait! Draco- stop!" He ignores me and hauls me on. I yell over the music "I'm sorry Oliver! I'll find you later." Oliver stands there completely confused and slightly concerned, staring after me. There's no point in fighting this. Not when he's fuming. So I let him all but carry me out. We pass Pansy's table and I grab my drink, sipping while he relocates me.

I am dragged outside where I'm suddenly released. I stand up straight and look at Draco. "Why did you do that?" I ask plainly. He stares back, seething.

"Why are you letting that stranger touch you so intimately?" He looks at me in disdain. I sigh and sip on my drink, I'm halfway done with it now.

"And you're drinking too much. Give it here." He holds his hand out for my glass. I down it while keeping eye contact and then drop the empty cup into his hand. He stares at it in disbelief.

"You don't need to babysit me. I'm not some fifth year out for the first time." I cross my arms.

"You're acting like one. A desperate one at that." He counters. I look in at Blaise and Pansy, now dancing like they haven't spent the whole night taunting each other. He catches my gaze and sighs. "I was trying to let loose and have some fun." I say softly.

"There are other ways to do that." His voice is perfectly restrained anger.

"Like what? Lean against a bar and brood all night like you?" I feel my buzz turning to drunkness. I see him laugh. Then he notices my eyes are glazing over. "Let's get you some water." He offers.

"No! You don't get to act nice after being a jerk." I say, drunkness inhabiting my vocabulary as well.

"You shouldn't be acting like a.." He trails off.

"Like a what?" I push.

"Like some desperate single woman or sexually-repressed housewife."

"What? You're joking."

"I'm not."

"I am a single woman!" He sighs and grabs my waist. I lean into his touch and let him guide me, slightly stumbling. We approach Pansy and Blaise who are now making out furiously. I spot Oliver sitting alone, nursing his drink. I feel awful. I begin to walk to him when Draco pulls me back, "Oh no you don't." I shrug him off.

"Let me at least say bye to him! He was my company all night and I liked it." Draco's eyes darken with anger and he clenches his trembling fists but lets me go.

"Oliver..." I start, gently. I don't know how he's going to react. He meets my gaze with a smile. I sigh in relief. He's too good and pure.

"Hey y/n!" Where did you go? Who was the... guy?" He asks, searching my face. I sit next to him and grab his hand. Draco has his full attention on us now, still trembling.

"He's my...." I look over at Draco who is obviously eavedropping and listening to my answer.

"He's my designated driver." Draco stiffens again. "Anyway I'm really sorry about.... that." I sigh.

"If you're in trouble and need help, let me know. I am a social worker." He responds so genuinely and kind I give him a hug. He wraps his arms around me and squeezes me back. I feel my body being pulled off him, again. He looks concerned as I'm leaving. I break from Draco and tell Oliver "I promise this is not as bad as it looks. Thank you for caring. Let's meet up for coffee...?" I slip him my number and he catches it, putting it in his pocket. He nods and waves, still concerned. Draco walks me off, hand on my lower back now.

The four of us walk into the crisp night air. Pansy and Blaise are singing one of the songs that were playing on a loop tonight, swaying and holding each other in a messy slow dance. I giggle and watch them. Draco signs and looks at me. "y/n..." He starts but I cut him off. "No. You were acting like such a brute- Oliver thought I was in a bad situation with you." Draco's eyes widen. I nod, sobering up now.

"Wowwwwww!" Pansy's drunken voice fills the air as we walk, well they stagger on the side walk. I look at her. "A shooting star!!! QUICK!" She said, way too loud. "Make a wish! Go Blaisey. WISH!" He nods and says out loud "I wish I was 5 inches taller."

"Shhhh! You're not supposed to say it out loud! Now it won't come true." Pansy shushes him.

"It's too late for me! Why I- oh!" He trips on the curb and face plants in the grass. Pansy laughs joyously and starts to make fun of him "HA! You're such a- AH!" She follows suit, falling on him by the very same curb. They roll on their backs and start laughing hysterically. Pansy takes off her shoe and throws it in the road and throws the other somewhere behind her. I quickly run to get her shoe when Draco pulls me back, just as a car speeds by promptly squashing Pansy's shoe.

"Watch where you're going, won't you? You could've been killed." Draco scolds me but I hear the fear in his voice. Pansy screams, making us all jump and look at her. "MY SHOE!" She's pointing at her squashed shoe in the road. Blaise starts laughing and she throws a handful of grass at him, it lands in his hair. He stops laughing, reaches up to feel the grass and then starts laughing again. Then we all start laughing. Except for Draco who looks very annoyed.

"I'm hungry." Blaise says, sitting up suddenly.

"Me too." I say quietly and Pansy screams "DINER TIME!!" We all flinch away from her. She begins skipping down the sidewalk in the wrong direction. Blaise heads toward the road and Draco runs up to him, putting a hand on his chest to stop him. Blaise looks around for a second, looks up at Draco and says "Thanks daddy." Draco huffs and pushes him towards me. I guess I'm in charge of him now that Draco has run after Pansy. "Heyyyy babygowrlll" Blaise says to me, wrapping his arms around me. I hug him back, at least it'll keep him still. He begins to sway us drunkenly while singing "Sweet Home Alabama". I stand still and let him do all the work. He's happy with bobbing randomly now.

"Stoooopppppp I wanna eaaaaat!" I hear Pansy yelling. I look over to see Draco now has her over his shoulders. He sets her down with a huff next to me. I grab her hand. She starts humming and twirling herself.

"Why am I in charge of them?" I ask

"Because they flock to you. Look at them." I see them both hugging me and serenading me. "You're their mother goose." He jokes. "Yeah well you're the father goose and now you're in charge." I spin them to him and they both shout "Weee" Until he grips them for support and tries to walk them.

"They're wandering again y/n!" He tells me as I start down the correct way to the diner. I sigh and walk to him. "Who do you want to get rid of?" I look at the two drunken lovers. He seems to weigh his options.

"Take her." He spins Pansy to me and she falls into my arms. "Hi booboo." She coos at me "I love you" and kisses my cheek. I stand her up straight.

"Hi boobear, I love you too. Let's get some food?" She nods and grabs my hand, happily skipping. I hear Draco chuckle behind us, "Booboo and boobear, huh?" He teases.

I roll my eyes. "It's a best friend thing." I respond to him. Pansy has now started singing "Figaro. Fiiiigaro. Figaro. Figaro. Figaro" very off key. Blaise joins in and they sing an ear-splitting duet.

Diner

"Table for four please" I ask the hostess nicely as Draco staggers under the weight of both Pansy and Blaise who are disco dancing now. She raises an eyebrow and looks at my drunk friends and leads us to a table in the very back away from everyone else.

I slide in the booth and Draco slides next to me- Pansy and Blaise on the other side.

"Do you think they should be alone on that side? They're flight risks." I ask Draco and he gives them an appraising look. They seem to be coming down from their drink-induced frenzy and are now snuggling in the booth and closing their eyes as if they're in bed.

"They'll be fine." He dismisses, looking at the menu. I look at them and they've begun to lightly doze. I watch them until they fall fully asleep.

"That was easy. Just a warm place and soft spot" I look on, astonished. He nods as I look at him- he looks tired. I lean into him.

"Feeling okay?" I whisper. He nods his head. "They're always like this when they're drunk. I'm glad you were here to help this time." I look at him with a newfound admiration.

"You are always the sober friend then?"

"Yes. By choice. I don't like to be out of control. Especially when it comes to my body." I feel a shiver run down my back at his innuendo. So innocently seductive. The waitress approaches us, eyeing the sleeping drunkies on one side of the booth.

"Can I get you started with drinks...?"

"We've had enough of those." Draco says and I giggle.

"She means soft drinks or milkshakes. They don't serve alcohol." I whisper.

"Four waters please" I ask. The waitress nods and takes her leave.

"We should get some food in them" I say quietly, looking at the dozing duo.

"Do we need to wake them now?" He looks at them warily. I put a hand on his arm and shake my head "Let's take a break." He nods, looking relieved. The waitress returns with our waters. She looks at Draco and I thoughtfully. "Do you think you're ready to order?" Draco looks completely clueless, having no idea what to order from a muggle diner.

"Two garden burgers with fries, please and...." I look over to Pansy and Blaise again. "Two orders of pancakes, hashbrowns and eggs, if you could." She nods and walks off.

"What in the bloody hell is a 'garden burger'?" Draco looks at me, appalled.

"You'll like it. Trust me. Have I ever steered you wrong?" I ask.

"Many times. You're so terrible at directions I can't even trust you to make it to Hogsmeade on your own- and it's a straight shot." I scoff but know he's right. I'm terrible at navigation.

"Well good thing you'll be around to direct me forever and ever!" I say sing-songedly. He gives me a wary look and responds, "Oh great." But I see his eyes are smiling. I hear a groan and look over at our knocked out compadres.

"If you puke, I am not cleaning after you." Draco scolds. Blaise looks around confused for a second before mumbling a, "Where are we?" to which Pansy pushes down on his chest and whines "Shuuuush. I'm sleeping." He looks at her wrapped around him and smiles, promptly passing out again.

"True love." Draco snidely says, shaking his heads at his friends. But, I can see he's quite fond of them.

"Does he like her?" I'm fishing for Pansy so I can spill later.

"Oh the fool is terribly smitten." He pretends to look annoyed but I can see the honesty in his face. He looks at me, "Slytherins are supposed to be cunning and clever, not smitten and captivated by women." He gives me a meaningful look and promptly turns away to hide it.

"Why can't they be both?" I say softly, placing a hand on his arm. He looks at me with a warm smile, "I guess we can then." He admits to me.

"We?" I respond to which he starts to try and deny but ends up staying silent, vulnerability filling his eyes. I knew what he was trying to say. He has a hard time expressing these things. I lay my head on his shoulder. He leans into me a moment before saying "Where in the blazes is this bloody food?" Trying to divert attention from this affection he secretly craves.

Like she was summoned, the waitress re-appears with our food. She eyes the sleeping two again with a sigh, "They can't stay like this. We have a business to run." I catch her eye and then look at them, "Of course, I'll wake them." She gives me a withering look and walks off.

Draco and I look at each other and bust into a fit of laughter. Catching our breath, I tell Draco "You wake them. I'm not dealing with a cranky Pansy." I shiver dramatically. He rolls his eyes.

"Fine." He looks at them warily before saying "Wake up you drunken muppets!" As he kicks Blaise's leg under the table. Blaise shoots up, Pansy falling forward for a second before she catches herself. They look around wide-eyed, trying to take their surroundings in.

"Geez Dragon, you didn't have to wake them so roughly." He looks at me, them and then back at his garden burger. "They'll be fine." He says casually while taking a bite of his food. His eyes widen.

"Good, isn't it? You're lucky you have me to introduce you to new foods." I tease. He rolls his eyes but continues eating.

"Hey! Fooooood!" Pansy squeals, catching the attention of the other diners.

"Good morning, Pans. I ordered your favorite." I tell her, reaching out to squeeze her hand.

"Bitch, you're my soulmate." She begins to dig in her food. Blaise is glaring at Draco across the table and Draco sends him a wink while he eats.

"You bloody wanker. There are better ways to wake someone. Must you be such a brute?" Blaise snaps at Draco before noticing his own food. He begins to eat it hungrily. Draco looks at me with a smug grin, "Told you they'd be fine."

"Hey! Give me a fry." Blaise says to me and Pansy nods with a, "Me too." I split my fries between the two of them. They need it more than I do to absorb all the alcohol their body took in tonight.

"Thank you, sweetheart" Blaise coos to me and Draco shoots him a threatening look. Blaise notices and looks at Pansy with a fake "Ooooo" face. They both crack up laughing, still buzzed even after their nap. I looked at Draco affectionately and he rolled his eyes at me but I seen a hint of bashfulness cross his face before he focused on his food.

Blaise takes a sip of his water and almost spits it out, "What in the bloody hell is this?" Glaring at the drink in his hand.

"Water with lemon...?" I say to him.

"It's disgusting that's what it is. I want a fizzy pop" Blaise says, annoyed.

"Drink your water 'Za." Draco starts, "Don't bother the waitress. She already hates you." Pansy starts laughing and says,

"She hates you Blaisey!" Cracking up almost in tears on a joke no one but her understands. She's gently hitting the table as she laughs loudly. I start laughing quietly, her laughter is so contagious. Blaise reluctantly chuckled and we are all laughing together. Except Draco who has his eyebrows raised at us.

"You're all bloody blitzed. The lot of you." He shakes his head and finished up his food. My laughter dies down and I lightly shove Draco's arm. "Hey I've been on babysitting duty with you 'Father Goose' " He smiles reluctantly at me and rolls his eyes, leaning into my touch slightly.

"Did you hear that, Blaisey?" Pansy starts, "She called him daddy!" I nearly spit out my water, and Draco almost choked on his food. He glares at her and I cover my blushing cheeks, embarrassed. Blaise winks at Draco and says, "Does she now? Even in public?" Draco gives Blaise a warning look with a silent threat of violence. Blaise smirks but drops it.

We all finish around the same time and the waitress couldn't bring us the check faster. She shoves the check down and looked at us, expectantly. The hint was clear- she wants us out. Draco slid his black platinum debit card in and she left and returned less than a minute later, handing him the receipt.

I look at her steadily, she looks worn, tired and probably just wants to go home. She's human, after all. "Here ma'am. Thank you for tending to us tonight." I give her a hefty tip and her face lights up. "I- thank you." She says, unused to customers being so kind to her. I smile as she leaves.

"Why did you tip her so bloody much? She was a right bitch." Draco says quietly as we steer Blaise and Pansy out the door. Pansy looked around for a moment, "Ooooh! A muggle diner! We should get some food" While she tries to stagger back in. I wrap my arm around her waist and tugged her gently out. She whines.

"We just ate Pans. We will come back tomorrow." I lie to her and she beams.

Down A Cobblestone Pathway

"OKaaaaaiie" She sings and I check on Blaise. He's in the come down phase of being drunk, looking ill. Draco watches his face carefully, seeing what his friend needs. He shows his concern and care through actions. The only authentic way. I look at Pansy and she is staring at the sky in wonder, clinging to me. How much did she drink? I'll need to keep an eye on her tonight. Blaise suddenly stiffens and Draco leads him to a trash can, knowing what was going to happen. He's taken care of drunk Blaise many times. I hold Pansy while Blaise vomits in the trash can, Draco is rubbing his back and saying, "Alright, mate. Alright."

"EW! Is h-" I shush Pansy's yell and avert her body in the opposite direction. She sighs and lays her head on mine. She reeks of alcohol and pancakes and eggs. There's a small hint of her perfume still on so I try to focus on that.

"Did you know I love you?" She coos to me, kissing my head. I smile and rub her back, "Yes I know you do, and I love you too." She sighs and continues "You are the most loyal person I have ever met. You are so kind and your soul is beautiful." She coos at me, rubbing my hair. I am not used to such displays of affection, but I'll deal with it for her. "Thank you. Guess what?" I try to distract her from her mushy words.

"What?" She says, excited now. I sigh and thank my lucky stars my distraction worked.

"I saw a fox. Look over there!" I point in some vague direction. Hopefully she'll be kept busy looking for it. I heard Blaise finish vomiting and groaning as he stood. I glanced over to see Draco stand him right back up and wrap an arm on his shoulder. He looks at me and I give him a warm smile. He gives me a tiny one back, but I can tell he appreciated the gesture.

"Alright 'Za, let's get you back." He says, leading us back to the dorms. I steered Pansy back who forgot about my lie as she started to come down too.

"I don't feel good babe" She says to me, holding her stomach. I rub her back in soothing circles and she let out a quiet groan.

"I know. We'll get you to bed. You'll feel better soon. I promise." She sighs and nods, following Draco without needing my assistance anymore. I kept my hand hovering behind her lower back just in case she topples over.

Eyes trained on the black blazer-clad back ahead of me, I pressed on. Watching him be so soft and attentive made me realize I love him. The realization feels like a punch to my stomach. I am filled with joy and terror and denial at the same time. I can't possibly. But I do. He doesn't want me like that. Or does he? No. I can't think about this. I avert my eyes back to Pansy who looked very pale. I picked up the pace, taking her by the hand.

"Dragon" I whispered. Voices seem to be too loud in this quiet evening.

"Yes, darling?" He repeated lowly.

"Do you think we should separate them? Or should we go into one of their dorms and stay with them there? In case we need to help each other with them..." I say quietly, actually just wanting to spend the night with Draco. Even if it was at the expense of our drunken friends.

"Yeah let's take them to 'Za's dorm. Pansy's is full of perfumey smells and that'll make them sicker." He responds.

Blaise's Dorm

Upon entering Blaise's dorm, I lay Pansy down on the left side of the bed. Blaise stumbled himself to the right side, plopping face-down. I grab a small trashcan to put on either side of the bed. I turn Blaise on his side which he grumbled at but let me.

I turn Pansy on her side, facing the trash. She leans up to kiss my cheek as I did. "Thank you babe. I love you." She whispers to me. I lay her down, fluffing her pillow and tying her hair into a ponytail. I kissed her head and she was knocked out. I took off her now-squashed heels, setting them on the floor, and slipped a pair of Blaise's sweats over her dress-clad hips. I know she'll pull the dress off in the middle of the night and I wanted to make sure she was still some-what decent.

I feel eyes on me and look to see Draco looking me so affectionately my heart nearly exploded right there. I smile and head over to Blaise's side, focusing on fluffing his pillow. "Could you get water?" I whisper to Draco and he nods and heads to the kitchen. I push Blaise's hair off his sticky forehead and rub his back a few times. I slip off his shoes and set them by Pansy's ran-over heels on the floor.

Draco returns with a cup of water for each of them and sets them on both bedside tables next to their heads. I quickly ran to get aspirin, setting the bottle near Pansy. She gets the worst hangovers. I walk back to Draco and we both slump on the wall, sliding down it side by side in relief.

I look at him with a smile in which he returned, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear, leaving his fingers on my cheek for a few moments. Once he drops his hand, he shrugs off his blazer and laid it gently on me. I pull it to my chin and curl under his arm into his black button-up. I play with his buttons and he lays his cheek on my head. We sit in silence, hearing the quiet breathing of our friends and their occasional sleep-mumbles.

I sigh in contentment at our proximity, inhaling his Bleu de Chanel cologne and apple shampoo. I thought he dozed off with how slow he begins to breathe so I am surprised when he spoke.

"I meant what I said you know. Back at the diner." He whispers into my hair. I reflect back to try and remember what he's referring to.

"What are you referring to?" I ask, gently- trying to piece things together.

"That it's not Slytherin-like but I am smitten with a woman." I feel my stomach turn, I'm not sure I want to hear about this other woman while his blazer is laying on me along with his arm wrapped around me.

"Oh?" I try to keep my voice calm.

"Yes. You know who I am talking about?" I don't want to talk about this anymore, but clearly he wants to press it. I shake my head no.

"You." He says affectionately. I look up at him, searching his eyes, he meets my gaze and I know he is telling the truth. I beam.

"I am smitten with you." He repeats, laying it out clear as day with a warm smile. I look into his eyes, they were molten silver in this light.

"I am smitten with you, too." I admit. He leans in immediately and kisses me. I feel all his passion, longing, love and desire that has been repressed in him as well as myself. The kiss takes my breath away and warmed me from my head to my toes. As we part, we leave our foreheads touching a minute before I snuggle into his chest. I am practically buzzing with this revelation and I giggle and snuggle into him. I feel his warm arm wrap around me tighter, and his quiet chuckle back vibrates his whole chest.

He feels the same way.

"Good job tonight, mother goose." He says affectionately and kisses my temple.

"Good job tonight, father goose."

Masterlist

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