#I’ll scan this some day maybe but honestly it��s not that good or deep

[sugarbooger513]

JJK Men x Insecure chubby Fem!reader

Today has been hard to think of myself positively, and I have friends who struggle with the same thing, so I thought I could indulge some people with some very loved characters reminding us that, no matter our size, we're perfect.

Characters: Satoru Gojo, Toji Fushiguro, Choso Kamo, Kento Nanami

Warnings: Insecurities, body dysphoria, Toji's gets spicy (sue me), suggestive at the end of Nanami's, tooth rotting fluff.

Satoru Gojo

- Let's be completely honest here, this man rarely feels insecure, if he ever does.

- He wouldn't be able to sympathize, but that doesn't mean he doesn't care. In fact, it makes him care a lot more.

- His comfort methods aren't for everyone either, so be prepared. He's trying, give him that.

- Humor. That's what this man knows. Iykyk, this man deflects any form of trauma with his humor.

- If he notices it isn't working, then he'll come up with something else because he loves you. That love tells him that he has to try.

"Oh sweetie pie, I'm home!" Satoru's voice carries easily through the house, but you can't seem to care at the moment. Your cheeks still feel somewhat sticky from the tears that have fallen the past thirty minutes.

"Honey bun? I said I-" His voice cuts off, and you know you're caught. The bed shifts where your boyfriend lowers himself beside you. "Y/N, why are you crying?"

"I-I don't want to talk about it, Satoru." He removes his blindfold with a small chuckle. "Did your favorite anime character die?" "No." "You sure? You tend to sob when-" "I said I don't want to talk about it."

He freezes at the way you lash out at him. Yeah, something is actually wrong.

"Love," his voice softens in a way that shows how worried he is, "is there anything I can do to help? Anything at all?" You're quiet for a minute, but you eventually scoot closer to him.

"You want me to hold you?" All you manage is a nod before more tears slide down your cheeks. His long arms encase you securely against him. "I can do that as long as you need. I'm here for you, Y/N."

The two of you stay like that, you crying softly into his uniform while he runs his hand up and down your back.

Eventually, your sobs turn into small sniffles, and you finally speak. "I.. I'm sorry for snapping at your earlier, Sato." He smiles at the loving nickname. "No, baby, I'm sorry for joking around. You wanna talk about it now?"

"I just... I was thinking about.. how many girls looks so much better than I do." He scoffs. "You're kidding, right?" "Sato.." "No, I mean that. It isn't a joke. Baby, we've been through this since day one. I. Want. You."

You hide your now blushing face against his chest. "But.. I just don't understand.." "Look at me, baby." When you do, his bright blue eyes seem to shimmer. "You're the love of my life. You're gorgeous, stunning, beautiful, and every other synonym to those that I'll have to get Nanami to teach me because I will remind you everyday until it gets through your thick ass skull."

His hand comes up to rest on your chubby cheek, where he starts to wipe away the drying tears. "I. Love. You. So. Freaking. Much. Y/N." Each word is punctuated with a kiss on a different part of your face, until he eventually meets your lips.

The small giggles you let out makes him smile. "There's that beautiful laugh! Come on, why don't I pop some popcorn and we go watch whatever you want on the TV?" Your shit eating grin makes him snort a bit of laughter. "Even if it ends in a favorite character dying?"

"I don't mind having to hold you a bit longer."

Toji Fushiguro

- This is also someone I don't think can really empathize with you and your insecurities.

- However, when this man falls he falls HARD

- He will do anything in his power to make you feel better.

- Well

- Anything he can do while still seeming nonchalant about it

- Lets talk about how this man would take matters into his own hands, with his own hands, to make sure you know how loved you are. (You couldn't have expected just fluff with him, give me a break y'all.)

"Y/N," Toji kicks his shoes off carelessly at the door, "I'm home." He raises a confused eyebrow when he looks around the house. Plates from your movie night yesterday lay strewn about the coffee table, still.

'She never leaves dishes out. That's weird.'

He starts to walk around the house, worry filling his chest. It just isn't like you to leave a mess, or to not greet him at the door. There's no way someone came and did something to you, right? No one is THAT dumb, surely.

When he hears the small sniffles coming from your shared bedroom, he breathes a small sigh of relief. "Y/N? I'm coming in." He pushes the bedroom door open to see you cuddling his pillow while laying on your side.

His eyes widen at the sight of your body trembling from the small sobs. "Y/N?" He walks around the bed to kneel in front of you. "What happened?"

"N-Nothing Toji. Sorry, I-I know the house is a w-wreck." "Shut up about the damn house. I don't care. Why are you crying?"

You finally sit up, which lets him sit beside you on the bed. "I just.. Bad day." "Who do I need to stab?" "T-Toji?! You can't solve everything by stabbing!" He shrugs a bit. "You can try."

He smiles sweetly when you slap his arm. "That isn't funny." "Hmmm, but it made your cheeks flush." "Toji Fushiguro!" "Alright, alright. You wanna tell me what's wrong now?"

"I just.. looked in a mirror for too long, babe. Don't worry about-" "I'm lost. What do you mean you looked in one for too long?" You sigh, knowing he hates vague answers.

"My body is disgusting me today, Toji." He scrunches his eyebrows and leans in a bit closer to you. Your face heats up from the slight glare in his eyes.

"Looks the same to me." "Toji, I-" "Correct yourself." His already deep voice seems to drop even lower. Your entire body trembles. "S-Sir."

"Good girl. Now, let me get this straight. You don't think you're attractive." You shake your head, suddenly feeling the tears come back to your eyes. "Why not?" "J-Just.. my body.. it isn't.." "Skinny?" The word hurts your heart, but you nod, knowing he expects some sort of answer.

"So? You're exactly what I need, Y/N." You glance up to meet his loving gaze. "N-need?" "Don't play dumb. You know I need you. Now, we have to fix those insecurities."

He stands, offering his hand out to you. When you take it, he pulls you to your feet.

"Now," he groans as he lays back down on the bed, "I've had a tiring day at work. I want you to strip and come take a seat." "A-a seat?" His smirk tells you what you need to know before he elaborates. "I AM rather starved. Come on, I'm pretty impatient."

"To-Sir, I'm too.." "Heavy? Try again. You aren't getting out of this." He snaps his fingers, and the sound runs deep into your core. His eyes watch you hungrily as you start to get out of your pants.

"Now, for every one of your orgasms, I want to hear 'I'm Toji's pretty princess.' Understand?" "Y-yes sir."

You have no idea what posses you, but you finally let out you own witty comment. "You could at least take me to dinner first."

"You cheeky brat, don't worry. I have plans for your meal."

Hope you don't mind being hoarse for a while. You had to repeat just how pretty you were a number of times.

Choso Kamo

- SWEETEST MOTHER FUCKER I SWEAR

- He doesn't see a single flaw in you, honestly.

- Plus, he doesn't really understand beauty standards. All he knows is he loves every inch of you.

- Nothing goes unloved by this big ass baby.

- You crying would probably bring him to tears because he feeds off your emotion.

- But there is no doubt this man will do anything and everything to see your smile again.

- A true king who just wants his queen as happy as she makes him.

He left you for maybe an hour. Maybe. Choso just had to run and pick up a movie from Yuji.

"Angel, Yuji said that we have to-" He drops the movie the instant he sees tears in your eyes. "L-love? What happened?"

He rushes to your side and wastes no time wrapping you in his strong embrace. Your hands grip his shirt in a feeble attempt to pull him closer.

"What happened? Do you need something? A doctor?" His eyes are scanning your body for any signs of pain. His hands running gently over your back, arm, sides, but everything seems normal.

"I-I'm okay, Cho." "No, you aren't. Please, angel, don't lie to me." His own eyes start to fill with tears, but he tries to will them away. He knows he shouldn't be crying, but seeing you in any pain hurts him just as much.

"Cho, I just.. It's stupid." His large hands cup your face so you're forced to meet his eyes. "Nothing that makes you cry is stupid. Absolutely nothing, my love."

"I.. I tried to put on a hoodie of yours because I was cold." He blinks in confusion. "Was.. was it dirty?" "No I.. I stretched it out.." he tilts his head.

"Is that all?" You nod, but even more tears come to your eyes. "I just hate how big I am.. I thought you would find it cute to come home and see me in your clothes but.. I just messed them up.." He stands, suddenly walking into the kitchen. "C-Cho?"

"I bought some of your favorite ice cream. You know, the kind you always crave on your period. I figure we can cuddle and you can enjoy it while we watch a movie."

"I- I don't really want anything to eat." He smiles, still grabbing it and a spoon. "I know, but just in case. Listen," he places the carton on the table next to you, "you're gorgeous. Every part of you just screams beauty. Nothing could ever change that. Not your size, not you stretching out a stupid hoodie, not you crying, nothing."

He opens the carton, only to get a spoonful out and kneel in front of you. "Open up, angel." You do as he says and allow him to feed you the ice cream. You can't help but smile as you eat it.

His index finger wipes a few old tears from your cheeks. "There's that smile I love. Now, I think we need a movie and some cuddles. How does that sound?" You can only nod, absolutely floored by how much Choso truly loves you.

No more negative thoughts came to your mind while you laid against his chest. He even took a few times to feed you more ice cream throughout the movie.

Oh yeah, he totally bought new hoodies in a bigger size so you could wear them around the house without fear of stretching them.

Kento Nanami

- KING ENERGY

- You can't tell me this man doesn't want someone who acts as his pillow. Come on.

- That being said, Nanami knows how it is to be insecure.

- Whether it's over body insecurity or not, that can be argued either way. Still, insecurities aren't something he's ignorant about.

- On days where you can't seem to like your body, he'll do whatever you need.

- Need to be alone? No problem. Need someone to talk to you? Covered. Just need to be told you're loved? He'll tell you as many times as it takes.

- However, he can't help but be blunt. That's just who he is.

- He does it out of love for you, though. He never wants you to believe something that isn't true.

It's really hard for you and Nanami to get the same day off of work, and today was no different. Since you were the one working today, Nanami decided to take up cleaning the house and preparing dinner. He would also insist on doing the dishes, but he knew better. You never allow him to do all of the work.

He watched the clock hit five thirty and smiled. No doubt, that was your car he heard pull into the driveway. Now that you were home, he could surprise you by telling you that he managed to get the next five days off, which matched your schedule.

The front door opens, and he's quick to call out a "Welcome home, dear. Dinner will be done soon." He turns his body, preparing to catch you in his embrace as usual. However, all that happens is you call back, "Thanks, Ken."

His eyebrows furrow, and he quickly takes dinner off the stove so he can go check on you. He's not one to forget anniversaries or anything like that, so his mind is going through any possible reason you just called him Ken.

"Bad day at work, dear?" He wipes his hand on his apron as he comes around the corner. You were already sitting on the couch, eyes on your phone. "Yeah, I guess." "Okay," he sighs and sits beside you, "would you like to talk about it?" When you finally look at him, his eyes widen. Your eyes are puffy, as if you had been crying.

"Y/N.." "It's just coworker drama, Ken, don't worry too much about it." He scrunches his face. Those women you work with always pissed him off. He's noticed them staring at him whenever he brings you lunch. "Well, humor me a bit. What happened today?"

He just knows you can't resist gossiping with him after a work day. "I-I don't want to repeat it, Ken." The worried look in his eyes makes you whimper. "What?"

"I'm not used to you calling me 'Ken' at home." "Sorry, honey. It's nothing you did." He smiles softly and reaches to cup one of your cheeks in his hand. "Are you sure you don't want to tell me?" You do. God, you do because you know you'll cry again and he'll be here to hold you through it.

"They started talking about you." "Me?" "Yeah," you look at your hands, already feeling your chest tighten, "and started laughing at how you're.. settling for someone who is as big as I am.."

Nanami's soft looks suddenly turns harsh. How dare they say stuff like that? What's worse is he's sure they knew you could hear them!

"Really?" When you nod, a tear falls onto your lap. "It just.. really hurt knowing that I'm not the only one who thinks that." "Y/N.." He pulls you into a hug with a soft sigh.

"Don't think like that. Dear, if I wanted anything different than what I have now, you would know it." You sigh and cuddle into his warm embrace. "I know, but-" "But nothing, my love. I love you, only you, forever you. Do you understand?" You glance up and he places a soft kiss on your forehead.

"Yeah.. I love you too, Kento." "I have an idea." "Uh huh?" His smirk has you worried. "Well, we both have the next five days off.." "We do?!"

The excitement in your voice has him chuckling. "There's my pretty laugh. Yes, we do. I'm thinking on your first day back.. you go in with a ring on your finger."

You blink in confusion. "K-Kento, you don't-" "Oh I do. Am I the person to joke about wanting to marry you?" Your eyes start to fill, yet again, with tears. However, these tears make Nanami also tear up a bit.

"Are you... asking..?" "I have a ring just for you in my suit jacket, Y/N. Just say you'll marry me." He isn't really expecting you to jump on him, so when you do, he falls from the couch to the floor. "You know I'll marry you, Ken!"

The two of you share a long kiss, complete with tears and laughter. "Well, now that that's decided. I think we should get a head start on something." "What would that be?"

He stands before securing you in his arms bridal style. "The Prehoneymoon." "That isn't a thing, honey." He smirks before playfully smacking your ass. "For you, Mrs. Nanami, anything is possible."

@katgalle @savonline

[makeitagood0neao3]

Safe Inside

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Word Count: 2,754

Warnings: Non/con. Explicit sexual content. Dark!Peter Parker AU. 18+ only!

The knock on your apartment door couldn't have come soon enough. After a long, tiring day working virtually, all you wanted was your take out, likely still warm from the restaurant downtown. Hair in a messy bun, long shirt covering a pair of shorts you padded to the door. Looking through the peephole, just to be safe. You couldn’t be too careful nowadays.

You opened the door to see your usual delivery guy standing before you, grey Supreme hoodie beneath a black coat, the hood pulled over his head. In his hand were the handles of a plastic bag as he balanced a soda on top of it.

“Greek delivery for a pretty lady in apartment 410?” He asked, barely able to contain his smile.

“Hey Pete,” you greeted, matching his energy. “I just Venmo’d you.”

“You better not have included a tip, Y/N.” Peter handed over the soda and bag before grabbing his phone from his pocket to check for the transaction. “I told you to stop tipping me.”

“I know you did,” you answered smuggly. “But you deserve a tip when you give me life by baklava.” He smiles back before peering into the apartment behind you. He was always doing that; checking, observing. You only ever ordered dinner for one, but that didn’t stop him from being curious. Not one to easily trust, you know the little world you built can be easily destroyed if you let the wrong person in.

He never asked if you were seeing someone or overstepped. The most flirting you had done with this younger man was to tell him that if he got straight A’s this semester at the university, you’d invite him inside for a drink. 

“Yeah, yeah. I appreciate you. I gotta run, but I’ll text you.” He waved and made his way down the hall.

Using your foot to kick your door closed you locked it with your free hand and set the food down on the counter. Setting your Spotify playlist to shuffle on 80’s rock before digging in at your tiny dining room table that barely fits in your small apartment.

You met Peter on a whim. Never one to plan meals out in advance, you were often left to starve or eat cereal for dinner after working. Never one to leave your apartment when it was dark out, you settled for having dinner delivered. Peter was delivery guy on a food delivery app and learned your dinner routine and favorites quickly. Which was surprising, because you couldn’t possibly be the only person in Queens ordering take out every other night.

And he couldn’t be the only delivery guy around, but he somehow became your usual delivery guy and you, his regular. Usually one to get chips as a side at a nearby deli, you didn’t order any one evening. He messaged you No chips tonight?

It surprised you, but you brushed it off, telling him you were cutting back on junk food. He dropped off the meal at your door with a knock, but by the time you opened it, he was gone. Sitting at the top of the paper bag was a bag of your favorite chips.

Always one to drop off your food quickly and not stay to chat, you caught him one night to thank him and tip in cash. Since then, you two would talk in your doorway briefly, mostly keeping your friendship to text as you were both busy. After a year of limited in person social interaction, any casual conversation over your threshold was greatly accepted. One day soon you’d venture outside, but with the availability to have nearly everything delivered, you doubted that day would come soon. You just weren’t ready.

Soon you ditched the app and just text him when you wanted dinner and he dropped it off to you. The price for you didn’t change, but gave him some extra. You honestly didn’t know why he chose to deliver food; he was always dressed extremely nicely in name brand clothes and you later found out he has a lucrative position at Stark Industries.

Once you had asked him why he chose to do this, in the literal rain and snow, and he told you that it was something to do. He got bored often and it was better than sitting in a lab all night. He made it seem like he did this for several people, but you didn’t see how he had the time to.

In the middle of scrolling on your phone, there’s a slow delay in registering what you’re seeing. Shaking your head and blinking hard, the sensation didn’t go away. Your body seemed to relax as a deep buzz set in and your body movements sluggish. Bringing the fork up to your mouth for another bite, you missed completely, the rice pilaf dropping onto the table. You tried for another bite and this time succeeded.

Are you... high?

You tasted the mineral chalkiness before you noticed the white powder poorly mixed into your rice pilaf. Brain fuzzy, you tried to analyze the substance. Thinking it strange, you drank from your take out cup of soda to wash it down. It became harder to swallow each sip, but you had already finished half the meal.

A knock at your door echoes through the wood. Each footstep towards the door bounces between your ears. Struggling with the lock, you finally got it open, your legs almost numb and your arms heavy. On the other side of the threshold stands Peter, his hood over his head, eyes assessing you through his lashes as his head angles down.

“Pete?” 

You feel his arms around you before the whoosh registers in your head. Blinking hard, you are lying on your back, limbs heavy. Some time must have passed, but you can’t be sure.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered from above you. “I think I gave you too much.”

Struggling to keep your eyes open, a shiver blankets your skin. You let out a whine when your tongue refuses to curl with your words. It lies heavy, your jaw loose as you slur out questions.

“Peter?” You try again. Your question is slurred and there’s a pitched whine to your voice.

“Shhh, this is for your own good.”

“Mmph” you mumble, unsure if you actually feel hurt right now at this moment. Your movements are heavy and slow, like running through water. Your back is against something soft that smells like your fabric softener. Your bed. When did you get here?

“I’ve wanted you for so long. Now I can finally have you.” His hands seem to be frantic as he pulls your shorts from your hips and down your thighs before discarding them. Is he frantic or is this normal speed? His coat is gone and he pulls his hoodie over his head, his shirt stuck inside it. He’s next to you a fraction of a moment later

His warm hands graze your hips as he pulls the oversized shirt off of you, the crack of static electricity sparking from your hair as it's pulled through the collar in your ears. His hand gently rests your head back down on the pillow. You whine again and try to cover your bare chest with your small hands. He notices and pulls them away. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he reassures, mistaking your modesty for insecurity. He’s lying on top of you now, chest to chest. The heat of his bare skin as he presses into you, his hands tracing the shape of your waist and hips. He seems to be mesmerized.

“We can’t-” you want to scream, but even you aren’t sure your thoughts matched what came out of your mouth. Your hands try to push him off of you, but he’s too solid, too in control. When that doesn’t work, you slap his chest, but you don’t really feel the impact on your palm. You’re too numb. He grabs your wrist.

“I don’t use my hands to harm and you won’t either.” He says this firmly, eyes locked on yours, but follows up with, “Behave or I’ll have to tie you up so you don’t hurt yourself.” The latter comes out softer, more timid like the Peter you know.

His head dips down as he places sloppy, unpracticed open mouth kisses on your neck and shoulder. Quickly this turns into full sucking. You angle your chin to the side, scanning your nightstand for something, anything to help you. You eye a book, hardcover, heavy hand reaching up to grab for it. Maybe you can hit him hard enough to buy time.

Peter catches your movement and lets out an irritated, though shaky, sigh as it leaves his lips. “What did I say?”

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small, silver device. He grabs both of your arms and places each palm on an iron bar on the headboard before a white, sticky, material shoots from it and seals your hands to it. You pull, but they don’t budge. He tosses it aside and slides down your body as you fight against your restraints.

The cool air brushes against you where your panties were. Vision unfocused, try to reconcile the split image of him and merge it into one. It’s dim in here, but it looks like he has your panties in his fingers as he tosses them aside. He lowers himself to his forearms, eyes never leaving your face. Or you think he’s looking at your face.

His nose brushes against your slit, tentatively, as you flinch. Your tongue is motionless in your mouth, but feels swollen, like it will suffocate you. All the things you want to say are being swallowed in your constricted throat.

His tongue pokes out as you manage to shake your head a fraction bit side to side. It probes your folds, uncertain. It takes him a few attempts, but he seems to find a technique he likes. The flat of his tongue swiping up as he breaks eye contact and his eyes roll back, indulged in the taste of you.

The sight of him enthralled in your most delicate region forces a squeak from you. His eyes snap open and his hands grip your hips a bit harder as he dives his mouth onto you. Seemingly encouraged by your noises and movements.

“You taste so good, baby.” He says, breathless, before he dives back in. Suddenly, his mouth finds your clit and he flicks his tongue against it hard. It’s too much pressure and it has you wriggling, brow furrowed.

He seems to notice this, because he modifies and begins sucking on your clit instead. A shock wave is sent through you, your hips angle up to meet his mouth eagerly. Taking this as a sign to continue, he inserts two fingers inside you, stretching your hole.

Quivering, you try to fight off the orgasm building, thighs clenching his head. He seems superhuman as his fingers never cease their rhythmic curling inside you and his mouth sucks the life from you. Whatever he gave you makes it impossible for you to take deep breaths and the orgasm that drenches your body in sweat steals the air from your lungs. He slows his motions as you ride his fingers and mouth before slowly removing both from you.

He seems proud of himself as he says, “I’ve always wanted to do that to you.” It’s almost endearing, but then you remember you’re drugged and bound.

Stalking you like the prey you are, he crawls up your body and slides his pants and briefs off his hips. He’s already hard as you try to focus your vision on him. Unable to tell how thick he is, you wonder if it will hurt. Perhaps if he caused you pain, your body would snap and find the adrenaline you need to get away. You pull against the bars again, hoping to break free. In the very least, your head lulls side to side in protest.

“I didn’t bring a condom, but we don’t need to worry about that. I’ll always take care of you.” He says, his forearm resting next to your head while his other hand reaches down, lining himself up with you. He pushes forward, breaching your entrance. Removing his hand, it moves to cup your head in his hand, sound muffled as he presses his palm hard against your skull.

Unable to move your head as he cradles it, your eyes flutter, unable to make him out clearly. His eyes penetrate yours, his eyes a deeper brown than you noticed before. His lips are parted as he catches his breath.

He slowly pushes forward, inch by inch. Your wet channel stretches and forms to him as he slips inside you. Despite the heaviness in your limbs and numbing to your skin, you can feel how your body accommodates him. The feeling of him is amplified by his heavy breathing in your ear as he pulls back and slams back into you.

“Fuck, you’re tight.” You try to tune him out, the only thing you really focus on is the wet sound of your slick as he draws more from you. Your body operates on sensation alone and all you can feel is him. He finds a rhythm that seems inhumanly fast as his hips push yours into the mattress harder and harder. 

He presses his chest against yours again and you can’t tell whose body temperature is higher. The desire within you builds. Fighting through the haze, you cry out, spine arching off the bed. The fabric is damp beneath your hips and you wish you could be embarrassed by it.

Both of your breaths grow louder, more frantic. On particular thrusts when he tilts his hips. the tick of his cock angles up to hit your g spot, you let out a moan. Encouraged by this, the corner of his mouth lifts into a cocky smile.

“Louder, baby.” He commands breathlessly, seeming to find his courage.

He lifts his chest from yours and kneels, his hands lifting your hips up with him, your ass no longer on the bed. Grabbing for your ankles, hooking your heels over his brawny shoulders, he slams back into you. His forearm wraps around your shins, holding them in place while his opposite fingers find your sensitive clit. Letting out breathless gasps, you can’t catch your breath or restrain your vocal cords. He continues plowing into you, fingers rubbing diagonally, frantically, against you.

“Come for me, Y/N. Soak my cock.” Something about this version of Peter, this feral side of the sweet delivery guy you thought you knew, makes you come again. Eyes rolling back, your lids closing as his hips become frantic. He squeezes your legs like a lifeline as he comes inside you, a loud grunt from above you.

He pulls out of you and lowers your hips to the bed. The euphoria sets in and your taught muscles relax into the bed. Leaning over you and he connects his nose with yours as he catches his breath. You’re both hot, a thin layer of sweat over your skin, but that could be from whatever he gave you. Your shoulders are stiff and you try to tug again on the headboard.

“Oh,” he chuckles, “those will dissolve soon.”

Abruptly, he gets up, wiping his cock against the inside of your panties, before he slips them back on and settles them on your hips. His come drips out of you and into the panties, keeping you wet and reminded of him. How did this happen? You never let anyone inside the safety of your home.

Moments pass as you process this. Faintly, you hear his feet on the carpet before he’s back in your room, sipping on the soda he brought you.

“Thirsty?” He asks and angles the straw to your mouth.

“My shoulders hurt,” you murmur out.

“Then next time don’t fight me. I think you understand that now, don’t you?”

Even without touching you, he is still inside of you. There is a faint pulsing from your clit that radiates down to the soles of your feet. Rhythmic and matches your pulse as you come down. Your arms and thighs goosebump from the chill in the air and you can feel the balloon in your head deflate. But you’re still unable to respond to him so you lie there, surrendering to his power over you. 

[mrs-gucci]

Subliminal Pleasures {anesthesiologist!Kylo Ren x Reader}

author’s notes: hellooo! thanks to my good friend @safarigirlsp​, I finally wrote my first darkfic. thanks for ruining me a little bit, Shannon! ;) I’ll warn you now, this is honestly the darkest thing I’ve ever written before, and at first I was a little nervous, but I’m surprisingly pleased with how it turned out. and hey, it’s called fanFICTION for a reason, right? 

**THIS IS A DARKFIC THAT CONTAINS DARK THEMES/CONTENT!! please read the warnings and tw’s before proceeding!!**

warnings: smut. non-existent medical practice ethics. kylo’s a bad doctor, but damn, he looks good doing it. mentions of a medical procedure. some fingering. light dirty talk. masturbation. praise.

tw’s: noncon (but it’s not unpleasant, if that makes sense?). somnophilia.

word count: a touch over 2k

When you came into the hospital today for your dental surgery, no makeup and clad in baggy sweats, you weren’t prepared to meet anyone even remotely interesting or attractive, much less the anesthesiologist. 

And, when he walked into the room, your heart immediately skipped a beat, maybe even two.

He was one of the most handsome men you’d ever seen before. Handsome seemed like an insult and injustice to his beauty when it came to the broad, raven-haired god. He wore a very stern expression as he sat over in the corner of the room in a stool much too small for his great size, gathering his tools. 

“Hmm,” His eyes scan the file. “Miss Y/N?”

You nod over at him.

“That’s me.”

He turns back to preparing himself for surgery. “I’m Dr. Ren, the anesthesiologist.”

“Nice to meet you, Dr. Ren.”

A silence stretched between the two of you, the only sounds coming from his movements or your adjusting positions on the paper-covered seat. Then, he speaks again, voice even deeper and somewhat huskier than before. It sent a shiver down your spine.

“Have you ever previously been put under for a medical procedure, or otherwise?”

“I have.” You reply. “Although I didn’t think that I’d need it for this type of procedure?”

He turns around in the stool, a small smirk on his expression.

“Would you like to be awake when your teeth are hammered into pieces and pulled from your mouth?”

Normally, you would’ve laughed at this joking question, but his delivery and sinister demeanor chilled you to the bone.  “N-No, not really.”

“Then you’ll be put under.” He simply states, pulling on a pair of latex gloves before handing you a fabric gown. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. Strip and put this on. The snaps should be on your left shoulder, otherwise you’ve put it on incorrectly.”

Looking into his eyes takes your breath away, out of captivation or a bit of fear, you were unsure. He holds onto the gown a bit too long before releasing his grip, eyes lingering over your face before walking out of the room with commanding footsteps.

Despite his chilling intensity and seemingly emotionless demeanor, you still found yourself incredibly attracted to him. There was something...magnetic about him, like the mysterious aura surrounding him draws you in. The warm tingle between your thighs was undeniable as you stood and removed your clothes, tucking them in your bag off to the side before slipping the gown on over your mostly nude body.

Dr. Ren comes back in as soon as you lay back on the chair once again, his timing impeccable. He puts on a surgical mask and rolls the equipment over on a small cart, parking it next to your head.

“We’ll put you under now.”

“W-What?” Your eyes widen. “But the doctor hasn’t even come in yet.”

He glares down at you.

“Must I remind you who the medical professional in the room is?”

“No, sir.” You shake your head, lips pursing as your eyes dart away.

The mask is placed over your nose and mouth.

“Breathe in and out deeply, count to ten.”

Your eyelids grow heavy almost immediately as you begin taking deep breaths, letting the invisible medication into your lungs. 

“One...two...three...four...five...s-six...sev-seven...eigh...t...”

Kylo grins when you’re finally under, body limp as you sleep peacefully under his influence. He loved his job, loved having complete control over someone’s consciousness, loved having the power between life and death.

His cock hardens in his pants as he reclines the chair so that you’re now laying flat. You don’t move a muscle, and he quickly removes his latex gloves along with his mask, tossing them into the bin.

He’s never had a patient like you before, so beautiful, so docile and obedient, so...seemingly innocent. He wants nothing more and would take great pleasure in absolutely ruining you, turning you into his pretty little slut.

The doctor wasn’t even here yet, as you were his first surgery patient today, but Kylo knew without doubt that he needed time alone with you. He needed to have his way with you.

With one last flicker to the locked door, he brings his hand down beneath his trousers and wraps it around his hardened cock, groaning under his breath with the first pump. Your vitals are stable as his other hand begins popping the snaps of your medical gown.

He pulls it open and lets it hang down over the side of the table, exposing your body to him. All you’re wearing is your undergarments, and yet, Kylo’s length pulses in his hand at the sight. You’re truly a sight to behold, even with your intimate areas covered.

You squirm just a bit when the doctor’s large hand grazes over your ankle, but he knows he won’t wake you, not completely anyways. His hand trails up over your calf, then over your thigh, climbing until he reaches the underwire of your flimsy bra. 

There’s not enough time to remove it, to expose your pebbled nipples to his hungry gaze, but he spreads his large hand over the mound, squeezing it gently. In your unconscious state, your back arches slightly and a soft sigh escapes your lips under his touch. 

His hand pumps his cock faster as he bends down and presses a few kisses to the fabric over your nipple, walking around to give your other breast a similar treatment. Then, he walks to the foot of the table and mounts it, kneeling between your legs. 

Both his hands spread out on your inner thighs, gently spreading them apart before tracing his thick, calloused digits across the crotch of your panties. You squirm again, hips subconsciously rocking up to meet his touch.

“That’s a good girl.” He purrs, rubbing small, lazy circles on your clit over the fabric. “Even like this, you still want it. You just can’t help yourself, can you?”

Kylo dips his fingers beneath your panties, cock twitching under his pants as his fingers swipe through the considerable amount of slick there. He finds your clit, rubbing it gently, enough to stimulate but not disturb you.

“Look at this...you’re absolutely soaked for me, little dove, and you don’t even know it.”

His hands grip your hips and lift them up as he slides your panties down, revealing the glistening treasure that lay below. He lines a single finger up with your entrance, then pushes it in, growling softly when your cunt clenches.

You stir just a bit, but not nearly enough for him to worry. He lifts his digit up inside you, enjoying the way your hips suddenly jerk as he rubs over the spongy surface of that special spot. Then, he pushes another one of his fingers inside of you, hearing a soft whine from beneath the mask.  

He begins fingering you gently, just enough to prepare you, making sure not to force you back into consciousness. Soon, it became too much for him, and he pulled his digits out gently, observing the slick that coats the two fingers. He brings them up and takes a quick whiff, cupping his clothed erection and squeezing as his tongue pokes out to lick some of the substance off, hips bucking forward at the semi-sweet taste.

“Oh, little one, you’ve got such a tight little pussy. And you taste so good, just as I knew you would.”

The young doctor wipes the rest off on the paper below, then makes quick work of his pants and underwear, pulling them down just enough to expose his aching length. It bobs in response, desperate for attention as another bead of precum forms over the slit. His finger spreads the semi-transparent substance over the fat mushroom head, groaning breathily. 

After giving his thick length a few strokes, he brings it down to rub through your slick. They buck forward out of instinct when he slides over your puckered entrance, wanting so badly to be buried inside of you. 

His body leans over you, one hand next to your head as the other lines himself up, aiding in direction as he presses his hips forward, burying himself inside your wet welcoming walls. His eyes flutter shut as he bottoms out, but quickly snap open when you moan.

Luckily, you hadn’t woken up with his intrusion, and he takes a long sigh of relief before drawing back and pressing forward again slowly. The table trembles on its legs, bolts creaking as he fucks you steadily but gently, extra cautious of your vital signs and level of alertness.

Part of him wishes that you were awake, that you could see what he was doing to you and enjoy him, but the feeling of knowing that even unconsciously, you were still wet and tight for him was one too good to resist. It was all so arousing; an ego feeding greater than his regular days work could ever offer.

Your face scrunches in pleasure with more rolls of his hips, moaning and whimpering each time he buries himself inside you. They’re all so gentle, your noises, and Kylo finds himself lost in each quiet breath.

“Good girl--fuck--oh, good girl.” He says quietly, using every bit of his willpower to keep from pounding into you. “Such a good little cunt, taking my cock so well.”

You tighten around him, then, and he growls, fists clenching next to your head. His teeth grind together as he picks up the pace ever so slightly, feeling his climax approaching quickly.

“T-That’s it, that’s a good girl.”

His head hangs, eyes squeezing shut. He’s close, now, and his own noises get a little bit louder and a lot more frequent as his balls begin to pull and tighten.

“Gonna cum, little dove, you’re g-gonna make me cum so hard with this tight pussy.”

Unbenounced to him, you wake up slightly, eyes opening just a crack. You see him on top of you, body flexing with each thrust, and you feel the obvious intrusion in your lower half. You’re surprisingly not bothered by it, nor do you feel uncomfortable with it. Before you can think on it further, you slip back into the blackness.

He can’t cum inside you, he knows that, so just as he teeters on orgasm, he pulls out as gently as he can and drags his pulsing cock against your lower stomach as thick white ropes paint your soft skin.

“O-Oh y-yes...so good, d-dove.”

Kylo takes himself through orgasm and right into oversensitivity, pulling away and sitting up when this happens. His length softens, the extra skin re-covering his head as it does so. He tucks himself back into his pants, prepares a wet cloth and wipes the cum from your abdomen before pulling your panties back up over your used cunt. 

His fingers quickly re-button your gown and he runs a quick hand through his hair before the doctor comes in, completely oblivious as to what’s just happened. Kylo greets him nonchalantly and takes his place off to the side as the doctor begins the surgery.

Your eyes flutter open lazily, grogginess hitting as you awaken a couple of hours later. Immediately, you feel the pain in your mouth, but more noticeably, you feel a certain ache in your lower half. You have no recollection of what you saw, as this memory is now trapped in your subconscious, but somehow you just sort of knew what’d happened.

You’re disgusted at yourself that you don’t mind the idea, that you don’t feel violated or like you’d been assaulted. You should feel those things, he did those things without your express permission, but...you don’t.

In fact, you feel as if your feelings for the mysterious doctor have grown even stronger. The gaping hole he’d left, the orgasm he’d robbed you of, just ached to be fulfilled. It was an itch you couldn’t scratch, sensations you couldn’t recreate on your own.

Only he could satisfy this desire, this need. 

And, as you sit up slowly and the doctor debriefs you, you know that you must fulfill this new destiny: Find Dr. Ren and make him yours once again.

[tomthesoftie]

her hidden crystal tears

❧ synopsis: keeping a relationship under covers isn’t an easy feat. when a popular, successful jock of a college, who has many obsessive fans, dates an average student, they decide that it’s better to keep their relationship secret due to safety reasons, but when the jock starts to become more ignorant of how their s/o is feeling, what might happen to their barely stable relationship?

❧ pairing: jock!tom x fem!reader

❧ genre: angst

❧ warnings: lots of angst (?), petty girl fights technically harassment, crying, pent-up emotions, unhealthy coping

❧ a/n: this is an unedited fic, as always and I didn’t know how to end it because I had two endings in mind. I might write both endings (angst and fluff) or maybe I’ll let you guys suffer lmao I’m kidding I originally was writing a blurb about the reader hiding their emotions/hiding their tears by feigning happiness, but I ended up writing like a 2500+ word fic lmao. also if some shit seems wack, it’s because I posted this on my phone.

alternate fluff ending here: let them flow

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Swerving through the large crowd, you found yourself a seat on the filled bleachers, squeezing to fit in the front rows to spot your boyfriend. Looking about, you located your brunette partner jogging into the field arms raised in the air, pointing towards the crowd you were hidden in. He waved his hand mindlessly, eyes scanning the ocean of screaming schoolmates and “fangirls.” His gaze finally fell on you, and his face lit up, bringing a pink haze to your cheeks as he blew a kiss in your direction. The girls sat beside you screamed out, pretending to catch his kiss and sending one back. 

You and Tom decided to keep your relationship under covers, due to the overly obsessive “fangirls.” Both of you knew it would be the best option to keep you safe. If you were ever injured or threatened by one of his “fangirls,” Tom wouldn’t be able to forgive himself. 

Tom held the leather ball in the crook of his arm, with the other pushing his way through the attacking team. Calculating his success, he dove into a touchdown, scoring him and his team the winning point. 

The anticipating crowd jumped up, cheering loudly and hugging one another, whereas the visitor team’s crowd let out a loud, mutual sigh of disappointment. 

You jumped out of your seat, screaming out your lungs as you stared, wide-eyed, at your beaming boyfriend. His teammates had lifted him into the air, tossing him about. You giggled as he caught your eye, slyly winking at you. 

Lost in your own world, you almost ran down to where Tom was before you saw a hoard of girls jumping and reaching their arms out to grab at him. Frowning, you walked away from the crowd to retreat to the warmth of Tom’s car. 

You scrolled through the collection of images you and Tom had had together, warmly smiling at the memories. You let out a breathy laugh, selecting on one specific memory: Tom’s head laid on your lap, eyes shut, and lips puckered lightly as he let out even breaths. 

The car door beside you opened, shaking you out of your train of thought. 

“Hey,” your eyes were met with the blue pupils you weren’t expecting. 

“Haz?” You looked behind him, hoping to find your beloved boyfriend. 

“Tom — um — he told me to drive you back to the dorms, said he would be heading to the celebratory party,” Harrison explained, eyes shaking with concern and sympathy. 

“Oh, I understand,” your smile not quite making it to your eyes.

“He was being hoarded by his,” Haz hesitates, “fangirls. He didn’t want you to get involved.”

“It’s all good, Hazzy. No need to worry about me,” you let out a feigned laugh. 

You stepped into the warm building, waving Harrison goodbye. Another football victory, same schedule. 

You go to Tom’s game to support and cheer him on, Tom wins, you avoid him, Tom’s “fangirls” hoard him, you wait in Tom’s car, Harrison comes instead of Tom, Harrison brings you back to your dorm while Tom goes to his party, you fall asleep in your own arms: the ‘Tom’s football victory’ schedule, named and created by you. 

To say the least, you weren’t fond of the last half of the schedule. You always were left alone to celebrate Tom’s victory on your own, while Tom was doing who-knows-what at the afterparty. 

In full honesty, you were slowly growing tired of hiding your affection for one another. You didn’t know how much longer you could hold onto this style of dating. If the pair of you were going to date, you would date publicly and however you wanted, whether it meant risking your safety or not. Besides, you weren’t some helpless girl that doesn’t and can’t protect herself.

The next day, you woke up with an aching head and puffy eyes. Groaning, you looked into your mirror located at the corner of your room. You flinched at the sight of your pink, tear-stained cheeks and tangled, mop hair. Pushing yourself off the soft mattress, you stumbled into your bathroom, prepping a warm shower to start your day off fresh.

With your laptop and notebook resting in your arms, against your chest, you made your way to your next lecture. You walked sluggishly across the large campus, occasionally catching a glimpse of passing football team members. 

A specific group you walked past caught your attention. You saw the familiar brunette curls in your peripheral vision, immediately making you turn your gaze towards it. You saw his warm smile as he chuckled with his group of friends, some of his “fangirls” giggling along with the group. 

There Tom stood, laughing and joking about with his peers, radiating happiness. He was basking in the attention he received from his friends and “fans.” 

You tried to catch his eye, and you swore you did for a split second, but he only walked past you as if you weren’t even there. Not even a hidden smile or wink of acknowledgment was sent your way. 

Your walking came to a stop as you frowned at your boyfriend’s back. You wanted to shout out his name, call for his attention. You wanted to nuzzle into his chest, breathing in his scent. You wanted to look into his chocolate-pooled eyes, see the twinkle of adoration as he stared at you. Nevertheless, you couldn’t. You couldn’t do anything with Tom in public, for you were just another girl on campus, trying to get by, and Tom was the successful jock with a bright future ahead.

You walked into the large room, taking a seat, conveniently, in front of Tom. This time, you were the one to not spare him a single glance, albeit he probably wasn’t expecting or looking for one. 

You tried your best to listen and focus on the lecture, but the consistent whispers behind your back began to nag at your patience. You leaned your down further into your notes, as if it could fix the slowly kindling fire in you. Checking the clock, you saw that only five minutes of the lecture had passed, and your professor had barely said anything. 

“Five minutes? I swear it felt like half of the lecture had gone by. And the professor. I swear he had just said like tons of important information,” you muttered to yourself under your breath, catching a few students’ gazes. 

You gently pounded a fist into your temple, forcing your attention onto the lined sheets of paper on your desk. You expected to see notes, not illegible scribbles. You silently groaned, switching the sheet for a new, clean page. You took a deep breath and began jotting down the key points of the presentation that was being projected onto the large whiteboard. 

A feminine voice cleared their throat beside you, “Excuse me.”

You looked up from your work, a glare on your face as you were pulled out of your focus once again.

“Can I help you?” You asked, irritated. 

“Uh, yes, you can. You can help me by moving yourself to that seat over there,” she pointed at an empty seat across the room, “and giving this,” she placed her hand on the desk, atop you notes, “seat to me.”

You scoffed, “And why should I?”

“Oh, honey,” you cringed at the nickname, “Tommy, here,” she nodded towards Tom, “shouldn’t have to suffer by looking at your terrible hair. Like, honestly, do you even care for your looks?”

You were practically fuming in your seat, but to avoid trouble, you responded with a monotonous voice, “I’m sure “Tommy” can take care of himself. Spare us both the inconvenience, and go sit yourself on that empty seat because if you couldn’t tell, I’m occupying this spot.”

“Who do you think you are?” She shouted, hand crumpling your notes.

Furrowing your brows, you grabbed at your notes, hoping to spare them.

“Move your ugly ass before I kick you off this seat,” she threatened, pulling you by your hair.

The professor stopped talking, glaring at the pair of you. You took it as a sign to shut up and not fight back.

Fist clenching, nails creating red crescents in your palm, you stood up, pushing the girl off of you, ignoring her gasp. You grabbed your notes and laptop, turning to see if Tom would defend you, but when you saw his passive expression, you let out a quiet laugh of disappointment, carrying yourself to the back of the room. 

For the rest of the class, you stood in the back, writing your notes with blurry, tear-filled vision. Although you were still in shock due to the event that had unfolded minutes into the lecture, you wouldn’t let it falter how you were doing in school. 

As soon as you were dismissed, you bolted out of the room, heading to your safe haven on campus. 

Not many people, if any, knew about the hidden garden located within the campus’s vast park. You had only discovered it by accident when you were a freshman looking for your way around campus. 

The first thought you had when you walked in was that you were transported into a different dimension. Thinking back on it, you were naive to think that, but you were still justified. Anyone would think such a beautiful place couldn’t belong to the aggressivity and rashness of this world. The variant shades of light green and pastel pink flowers growing between the weeds of grass gave the place a heavenly feeling, followed by the mist that sparkled under the sunlight. 

You dropped yourself at the thick tree’s stump, letting your notes and laptop slip out of your grasp. You cried into your knees, pouring out all of your stresses. Your breaths were short and heaved, occasional hiccups bubbling from your lips. Your sobs slowly lulled you closer to sleep, emotional and physical fatigue catching up to you. That is, until you heard the recognizable clang of the door handle hitting against the wooden door.

“Darling,” the accented voice you longed to hear spoke up.

Quickly wiping away your tears and sniffling away any evidence of your sorrow, you stood up, “Tommy!” A feigned smile lay on your supple skin as you ran over to your boyfriend, embracing him in your arms, “What’s up?”

“Are you alright? I’m sorry I didn’t speak up for you during class. I should’ve told that girl to get her hands off you,” he stroked your hair, “She didn’t hurt you, did she?” 

Letting a pained giggle out, you shook your head, “Nope, I’m fine. You know how strong I am.”

“I really, really did want to speak up, but you know that we should keep our relationship under covers, for your sake,” he spoke gently, placing a kiss on your head.

You scowled into his shirt but kept up your cheerful facade, chirping, “Mhm, safety.”

“I knew you’d understand,” he sighed. His hold on you weakened, “I should get going, though. The group will start to wonder where I’ve gone.”

You frowned, pulling away from him.

“Don’t be like that, darling,” he cooed, “I’ll come over tonight. Don’t worry.”

You let out a sarcastic laugh, “Of course, as you always do.”

His brows furrowed at your sudden mood shift, “What are you on, darling?”

“Oh, nothing,” you chirp, hopping back to the tree, collecting your notes and laptop. “Go ahead, meet with your friends. Leave me behind like you always do,” you murmur the last half.

“Love?” His voice neared you, and you barely registered the stray tears betraying you, rolling down your peachy cheeks. 

Quickly bringing up a hand to wipe the wetness away, you keep your back facing Tom.

“Shouldn’t you be going? Don’t want your friends to worry,” you laughed, lightly. A hand placed itself on your shoulder, the sudden contact startling you. “You scared me, Tommy. You shouldn’t do that,” you giggle, hiding your true emotions, “You know how easily scared I am.”

“Darling, can you look at me?” He asked, quietly, concern lacing his tone. 

“What for, Tommy?” You inquired, nervously laughing.

“You’re acting quite… strange,” he explained.

“No need to worry about me, bubs. I’m as peachy as always,” you quipped, shoulders bouncing in emphasis.

“I’m giving you one more chance to turn, or I will do it for you,” he said, sternly. 

You stayed, unmoving, forcing Tom to turn you with his raw strength. At first, you tried to fight it, but you came to the revelation that there was no way you could overpower him.

When you met his warm, liquid eyes, you felt your own tear up, and suddenly, your shoes were an intriguing sight. 

“Baby, please look at me,” he whispered, hands rubbing up and down your arms.

You shook your head in denial, trying to keep your weakness hidden.

“It breaks me to see you this way,” he lifted your face with a finger to your chin. His thumb moved to wipe away your crystal tears.

“Then leave,” you hissed, weakly.

“W-What?” Tom stuttered at the unforeseen reply.

“I’m tired, Tom. I’m tired of hiding, of you ignoring me and me, you. How long are we going to do this? It’s so stupid, all of it,” you dropped your head again, this time of fatigue.

“B-But, you know why we’re doing this-” you cut him off.

“I know, and I can’t help but think that this was a stupid choice,” you motioned between the two of you, “You’re barely around me, and on campus, you don’t even acknowledge me. On the slim chance I do have you to myself, it can only last for so long. At this point, it feels like we’re not even together.”

“I-I don’t understand. What are you trying to say?” Fear filled his eyes as the pit in his stomach became more and more noticeable.

“I think it would be better if-” you stuttered in a breath, “if we took a break.”

“Why? Just because we’re hiding our relationship? You know why I- we chose to keep it secret,” he rushed out his words, hands gripping yours.

“Do I? Do I really? Today was display enough that even though we act like we don’t know each other, I’ll still get harassed by those “fans” of yours. Not to mention, you saw it all unravel, and what did you do? Nothing. There’s no practicality to keeping our relationship hidden because either way, some “fans” will go overboard no matter who the person. Also, I think I showed that I can defend myself from crazy people when I pushed that girl off of me today,” you spoke, ferocity and resentment spurring you on.

“I know I messed up when I didn’t help you, but I thought about our relationship-” you scoffed.

“So what? Even if we weren’t in a relationship, you should’ve helped a girl out. Especially when she’s getting harassed because of you,” you jabbed a finger into his chest.

“Tell me how to make it better. I want to make it better. Don’t end us, please,” he begged, gripping your hand tighter.

“Stop, Tom. I told you that I want to take a break. Besides, it won’t be any different to how our normal relationship is,” you laughed. Pulling your arm out of his grasp, you walked away, “Now, I won’t have to waste any tears on you anymore.”

[rinarecommends]

Serotonin - Sero x F!Reader

Serotonin is thought to regulate mood, anxiety, and happiness in our bodies.

italicized text is meant to be spanish, however, I don’t speak spanish, and I didn’t want to try to google translate and it be wrong. Latin sero is KING though.

Nobody ever wants to be a cliche, right? But here you were being one. You became roommates with Hanta Sero a little over a year ago, and you slowly fell in love with him, irrevocably in love with him, but you were determined to suffer through it because you were sure that he would never feel the same. He was a HERO for crying out loud, a damn good one. He could have anyone he wanted, with his neat quirk that may or may not bring about not so safe thoughts, at times, and his spanish accent that would make any man or woman drop their pants, especially when he was mad, but it wasn’t just that. He was caring, always trying to save the day and people. He would give someone the shirt off his back if they needed it, it’s just who he was. He was loving, especially towards his friends and family, if the pictures hung all over the two bedroom apartment that you guys shared were any indication, even if one of those friends was a blonde asshole who was the epitome of anger in human form. He was everything you wanted, and all the things you never thought you needed all wrapped up in one person. It wasn’t really a problem, living with him while being in love with him. He didn’t date because he was too busy with hero work, so you didn’t have to see him with other women, or even think about him possibly being with someone else, until today. 

Today, you woke up like any other day. You ate the same breakfast. You did the same morning routine, except when you walked out of your room, you walked into sero arguing with someone over the phone, in spanish. You could tell it was an argument because of the language his body was using.

 “I know his ideas are normally bad, but I can not think of any other viable option, Kirishima. I need these feelings to go away, look at her and look at me, she 's perfect and she deserves someone just as perfect.” 

He angrily hung up the phone and drug his fingers through his hair in frustration, and that’s when you decided to pipe up to let him know that you were in the room with him. 

“Hanta, are you okay?” You said making him jump in surprise, and he turned to you, forcing a smile on his face, but you could tell it was forced. 

“Everything’s fine. I was just talking with Kaminari and Kirishima, and they said something stupid that set me on edge, that’s all. Anyways, Goodmorning Sweetheart.” You felt your body flush at the usual pet name that he gave you, it always made your heart flutter. You smiled brightly at him. 

“Goodmorning Cellophane.” You teased at his hero name. He rolled his eyes and scanned the room, searching for something. You could tell he found it when his eyes lit up like a christmas tree. He sighed in relief, picking up the hero belt that he had finally found after searching for it the whole time while he was on the phone, but it was just his luck for it to be hiding in plain sight. 

“I’ll be out later tonight than usual, so we won’t be able to watch movies like we usually do on friday nights. Sorry Sweetheart.” He said with his back turned to you. Your heart dropped to your feet. You always looked forward to the movie nights that became a ritual for you and him. If you didn’t know better, you’d consider them dates. 

“Oh? Work Event?” You asked with curiosity, wondering what could drag him away from movie night, knowing it had to be something related to work. 

“No, not this time. Kaminari has set me up on a date with a girl he knows, and I told him I’d go. Give dating a shot, y’know, get back out there in the field.” He rambled out, but you weren’t paying any attention. As soon as the word “date” left his mouth, your heart crumbled after each word thereafter. You forced a smile onto your face while your heart broke into a thousand pieces while screaming at you to stop him, tell him how you feel, but you let it break and silenced its screams, letting your brain convince you that it was not a good idea. Letting him know you had feelings for him could mess everything up, and you loved hanta, loved living with him, loved being his friend. You didn’t want to ruin that.

“That’s great, Hanta. I am so happy for you.” You were not happy. You knew you should be. If this was what he wanted, you should be happy for him, but you weren’t. You wanted him to want you, wanted him to love you.

“Yeah. I think it might be a good thing. Everyone needs someone to love them and be loved in return, right?” Yes. Yes they did. 

“Right!” You said with enthusiasm that you could only hope sounded genuine. He smiled at you one last time before he walked out the door, headed to work as a hero.

Once you knew he was gone, you sighed, but it came out shaky and before you knew it, you were crying, sobbing really. You felt this sharp pain through your heart as if something was squeezing and would not let go. You knew in that moment, you were experiencing real heartbreak, and the only thing to do when you’re heart broken? Call your best friend. 

It rang twice before she picked up, and if you weren’t so upset, you’d smile because you knew you could always count on the ever reliable Mina Ashido.

“Yo Bestie.” She said as she answered, her typical nonchalant greeting for answering your calls. You opened your mouth to say something to her, but all that came out was a sob. 

“I’ll be there in ten.” She said without you having to say anything, hanging up the call quickly to get to you. You let your phone fall out of your hand, clattering to the floor. How could everything go to hell so fast? You were living peacefully with the man you were secretly in love with, with no problems in sight, now he was going on a date, and it felt like the end of the world. 

She made it in eight. She came into your apartment with you on the couch sobbing, hardly able to catch your breath. 

“What Happened, Y/N?” She asked, quietly, needing to know what the problem was, so she could hopefully fix it, hating to see her best friend in this condition.

“H-h-he’s g-g-going on a-a-a da-a-a-te.” You stuttered out between your sobs. You didn’t say a name, but you didn’t have too. The thing was that your feelings towards Sero was evident to everyone but him, and apparently Kaminari who kept trying to set him up with girls, and his feelings for you were evident to everyone but you. 

“He told you that?” She said to you, all you could do was nod. 

“And you’re letting him?” She asked, making you look at her. What did she mean letting him? You didn’t have a choice in the matter of whether or not he goes out on a date. You weren’t his girlfriend, just someone that was hopelessly, desperately in love with him, who happened to be his roommate. It was like she could read your mind, and maybe she could, you had been friends since you were kids, friends throughout highschool, even though you weren’t at UA or in a hero course. She’s the reason that you were able to score this roommate when you were desperate to get out of your family home. She’s the reason you were able to meet Hanta at all. 

“N/N, you have two options here, and I am going to tell you what they are, honestly, with no sugar-coating bullshit. You can let him go out on this date, ignore your feelings forever, be insanely upset as you watch him maybe fall in love with this nameless, faceless girl, or maybe he won’t, but then there will be another one after her, and another, until he finds “the one,” and you can wallow in all the “what if?” scenarios you can come up with about your feelings towards him and how it might’ve played out if you had just said something, or you can open your eyes, and see that you are “the one” for him, and say something to him. Tell him how you feel. Then nothing has to change. He will either let you down gently because he’s not an asshole like our neighborhood #1 hero that is also an angry pomeranian, he’s SERO for crying out loud. He’s either gonna let you down gently, or he’s gonna return your feelings, but it’s a chance that you’re gonna have to take because I know you. You’ll regret it, in the long run, if you never tell him.” She took a deep breath after that monologue. Your tears continuously dried up as the words poured out of her mouth, and you felt silly. Why were you so scared to begin with? Was it rejection? She was right. Sero wouldn’t be harsh if he didn’t return your feelings. Was it the fear of change? What would really change if you confessed? You’d still be friends, if he didn’t feel the same, and you’d still be roommates, even if it’d be awkward for awhile. 

That’s when you decided. You were going to tell him how you felt. You were going to take a leap of faith and just go for it. Mina was all about living carefree and with no regrets, and she was right, when you thought about it. You would definitely regret not telling him.

You nodded at her and gave her a small smile.

“I’ll do it.” 

She sat down beside you.

“What’s the plan then?” She asked with a mischievous smirk on her face, and seeing that, you couldn’t help but match it with one of your own. Sero was certainly the love of your life, but Mina was undoubtedly your soulmate, two halves of the same hole.

“So here’s the plan…” You told her what your plan was, and she nodded along with you, agreeing with your plan, piping up when she thought something needed tweaking, and you two had a solid, doable plan almost an hour later. She left you to your own devices because she was on hero duty tonight, and she needed some semblance of rest to be able to protect the citizens at full potential.

You got dressed for the occasion and watched the clock until you knew he was almost due to clock out, and you called him.

Ring. Ring.

“Princesa. Are you okay? You never call me when I’m at work unless something is wrong.” He rushed out, answering after only two rings. Your heart soared when he called you a princess in spanish, and then it twisted in horror thinking that if you didn’t do this, that he’d call someone else that, or at the least, cease calling you that because what girl wants their boyfriend calling another girl “princess?” 

“... I’m actually not okay, Hanta. I know you have a date, but can you come home before you go? I really need you.” You inhaled and exhaled slowly, trying to keep your breathing even from all the nerves in your body standing on edge.

“... sure, princesa. I can come home before then. I’ll be there in 20. I just have to turn in paperwork and stuff. Will you be okay till then?” You nodded even though he couldn’t see you and breathed out a “yes” to give him confirmation that you’d be okay for twenty more minutes.

You hung up with him and stood up, started pacing back and forth while looking at the clock. You were actually gonna do this. This was a pivotal moment. After this, there was no going back, only forward. 

Pacing back and forth, time seemed to only drag on making those twenty minutes feel like an hour, until you heard hanta’s keys jingle in the slot, unlocking the door. 

“N/N? Where are you?” He said as he opened the door, not noticing you in the small living room. You looked at him, and your heart clenched, in the best way. He was so beautiful. He looked tired from a day of hero work. His hair was still wet from taking a shower at the hero office, like he always did, hating coming into the apartment smelly and sweaty. 

“I’m right here, Hanta.” You said making him snap his gaze to you.  He looked you up and down, probably checking to see if you were physically okay, and when he noticed that nothing was physically wrong with you, he gave you a curious look.

“You’re not hurt?” 

“I am. It’s just not a wound you can see.” you replied to him, trying to strain a smile, but not quite making it work. 

“I don’t -” He started but you shook your head.

“Do you know her name?” You asked, words tumbling out of your mouth without you really being able to think about them.

“Who?” Sero said, clearly not realizing you were talking about the girl he was supposed to go out with tonight.

“Do you know what she looks like? Is she prettier than me?” You asked, making his look grow even more confused.

“I -” He went to say something, but you continued on with your tirade, not being able to stop the words coming out of your mouth now.

“I sat here today, and I just thought, how has he not noticed? Has he, and just chose to ignore it, but you’re not that kind of person, you wouldn’t blatantly ignore someones’ feelings. You’re a hero, acknowledging people and their feelings is a part of that job, but then you told me you were going on a date today, and my world stopped. It literally stopped because I was okay with it being unnoticed as long as nothing changed, but you dating changes everything hanta because I can’t just stand by and watch the man that I am hopelessly in love with, who just so happens to be my roommate, go on a date with someone that’s not me. Not without telling him how I feel. I don’t want to live the rest of my life with unanswered questions and thoughts about what could happen.” You sighed. Taking a breath, looking at him as you did, seeing him with wide eyes and an open mouth. He opened and closed his mouth as if to say something, but you could tell he wasn’t sure what to say. 

“I love you, Hanta Sero. I love the way you care about people in your life and people you don’t even know. I love the way you try to make sure I am okay when you get home, even though you’re the one that is out there saving lives every single day. I love the way your eyes crinkle and you have a little dimple when you smile, and I mean really smile. I love the sound of your laugh. I love the way you smell when we cuddle on the couch while watching movies because I get cold so easy. I love the way you play with my hair when you think I’ve fallen asleep during the movie, when the truth is that I just pretend because I don’t want you to stop. I love how smart you are and how you continue to surpass everyone’s beliefs about you because you’re so great and no one ever sees that, always doubting you. I see that though. I see you, Hanta, and I love you just the way that you are.” You were so into your thoughts and feelings that you weren’t even aware of the huge smile that had made its way onto his face. You just kept talking.

“I know I’m not the greatest. I get upset easily, and I’m not the smartest. I’m not athletic, and I’m a decent cook, but nothing noteworthy, and there are probably so many people that would be better for you, who could love you better, take better care of you while you’re out there saving the world, but instead of dating someone that you don’t even know, that KAMINARI picked out, is it so far fetched that you never even consider dating me, when I was right here, all along? Was I not even a thought? No matter. I’m here. I’m pouring out my feelings, despite my intense fear of you rejecting me, and I’m asking you, pleading with you to pick me. Pick me, hanta. Choose me. LOVE ME. If you just do that, if you just choose me, I’ll spend the rest of my life showing you that you made the right decision, that I’m worthy of your love. That I -” You were cut off by the feel of lips slamming onto yours, words dying in your throat as the band that was stretching so tight, finally snapped. You had kissed guys before, but it had never felt like this, no one’s lips had ever felt like they were made just for yours, but his did. They fit together with yours perfectly, in sync, as the kiss went on and on, and you never wanted it to end, but it did. He slowly pulled his lips away and took a breath.

“Please. Stop talking. I wouldn’t want to choose anyone else. How have we both been hopelessly in love with the other and never noticed each other’s feelings?” He breathed out. His words made your stomach flutter with butterflies and instead of tears or sobbing, laughter, unadulterated laughter, flew out of your mouth, making him laugh along with you.

“I guess we’re both blind when it comes to feelings, huh?” You asked, smirking, and he nodded as he leaned in to kiss you again, and everything melted away, your brain flooding with serotonin.

[wnnbdarklord]

EDIT: so I started writing this like a week ago, but honestly the finale killed any desire in me to interact with this show in a fannish way. So have these half assed notes. I think it's obvious where I lost steam. These ideas are free for use for anyone who wants them in fic, have at you. As it is, I don't think I'll interact with this show as a fan any further than this.

How I would write a Loki show in bullet points (and a mishmash of short scenes and dialogue, let's be honest) for my sanity!

Presuming some disney exec came down from on high and forced the inclusion of EG!Loki and the TVA (because otherwise it'd be IW!Loki that survived and it'd be all about him finding his best life away from Earth, Asgard, Thor and the whole Thanos/EG situation. Or if I only had to include the TVA, it'd be IW!Loki dealing with the TVA, not EG!Loki):

Fair warning: this will likely be a mess since I'm not entirely motivated to not have it be so. 

[cut for length]

Ep1:

- Loki escapes to Nidavelir and uses the tools there to get rid of the chains and muzzle. A CONTROLLED use of the Tesseract, thankyouverymuch

- the TVA comes for him and Loki is wary and on the alert, exhausted from the whole Avengers thing so he immediately makes a clone to interact with the TVA and observes from afar

- the TVA fall for it when they try to bitchslap him like in the show, but immediately regroup when it goes through the illusion and start a search pattern. Their tech can scan for his temporal aura and they close in on Loki quickly (show the TVA as at least somewhat competent or they're shit antagonists for Loki)

- Loki, who still has hold of the Tesseract, portals out of there

- what follows is a quick chase scene across multiple planets and realms, but the TVA are always on his heels. The longest time they take to find him is during an ongoing apocalypse on a random planet that's enough for Loki to get a quick breather. but you know, disaster's on the horizon, so he has to leave eventually. but this is the first clue both we as an audience and Loki get about potential hiding places.

- when an exhausted Loki finally turns to fight, he manages to take several minutemen out  (justifying B-15's hate on for him) before one of them gets in a lucky shot and freezes him

- "Who are you people?" [short flash of Loki's eyes flashing green and the entire scene getting a strange cast, floating energy swirling around everything. It's beautiful, but the TVA people's energy is out of sync, out of touch and strangely jagged compared to their surroundings]

- they slap the collar on him and march him into the TVA

- Loki immediately tries to pull the same illusion trick but it doesn't work cause no magic in the TVA (maybe some visual indication of what he's trying to do, but it doesn't go past his skin. You know, like Sylvie managed in ep 3 -.-)

- he doesn't wildly panic, but we see his breathing speed up and he immediately looks at his left hand and relaxes when he sees it isn't turning blue. 

- okay so the TVA have caught him, he's on their shit list, no magic, exhausted, no idea what's going on, who these people are or how powerful they are - he chooses to play nice for now and bide his time

- the whole intake process is spent in quiet observation mode, only speaking when spoken to

- discomfort at being out of his clothes, but maybe only a wry joke about them wanting to strip him naked (making him a participant in all the thirst jokes)

- he doesn't ask if a lot of people don't know they're robots like a child wanting validation and he's not visibly afraid. Instead, we see him look at his hand again and try for wry humor when asking. But he steps into the device without much hesitation. It's death vs certainty and we already know he's chosen death once before.

- the propaganda cartoon is much shorter and plays in the background so we can see Loki's incredulous eyebrow raise at it. the ticket thing gets an eyeroll, but ready compliance since it's not worth it to argue

- when he sees the other guy get "pruned", he immediately reaches for the ticket to reassure himself it's there, but doesn't wave it around triumphantly, just sighs in relief

- trial can stay mostly unchanged, just no stupid magic attempt in the middle

"It's not your story, Mr. Laufeyson, it never was" (AND THIS SHALL BE PROVEN FALSE, you know, unlike in the show where it turned out to be their fucking mission statement) also, Loki gives her murder eyes for calling him that

- in fact, instead of trying magic, Loki holds up the controller he stole from  B-15 as she was escorting him to the trial and waves as he disappears through a door backwards

After that scene is the church scene with bodies, establishing Mobius as a hunter of dangerous variants. Someone is killing TVA officers

Mobius gets called back as in canon, but arrives too late to stop our Loki from leaving

Sidenote: Loki still has the tesseract since it was in his pocket dimension during the fight the TVA nabbed him in

Ep 2:

- it's now a few days/weeks later. Loki is back in his own clothes, a simpler outfit not geared for war. He's in the biggest library in the universe, the depository of almost all knowledge, looking for information about the TVA. there is Nothing, suspiciously so

- once again, the TVA shows up and he has to run yet again. maybe he kills this team too, to buy himself more time. he steals a melt stick and more time pads and reset charges

- he needs more information and the only place he'll get it is at the TVA it seems, so he shapeshifts into his female form, dressed as one of the many paperpushers at the TVA and we see her being relieved that the spelled clothing is holding once she passes through the time door

(another aside, but ideally the female form is more like Eva Green or Katie McGrath. AND NOT BLONDE)

- acting like she belongs, Loki effortlessly manages to snoop around the TVA for a few hours

- there's only one close call with C-20, but Loki manages to deflect suspicion by parroting the motto at her, which Loki reads from a nearby propaganda poster (cause Loki is good at lying, manipulation and flying by the seat of their pants)

- eventually, she ends up at the archive area and begins researching. We see that Loki is competent at this and is quick to pick up the filing system. the variant number from the papers she signed the episode before becomes relevant to finding the appropriate files

- before she can dig too deep into her own life story as laid out by these people, just as she finds the Ragnarok Report, Mobius finds her (maybe there was a silent alarm triggered by unauthorized access or something. Slightly more competent TVA)

- there is a scene where Mobius and Loki play a game of chicken and manipulation, wordplay and lying until it becomes clear Mobius knows who Loki is (actually establishing some camaraderie)

- Loki gets a little hoisted by their own petard since they're enjoying the banter so much, the backup Mobius called for catches them a little off guard, collared again

- since info gathering is still the name of the game, Loki doesn't try to get away just yet

(during this entire scene, Mobius is the same offhandedly condescending prick he is in canon, but it's very obviously framed that way)

(also featuring confirmation of the genderfluidity thing because fuck you disney)

M: "Nice disguise. Really had me fooled for a second there."

L: "It's hardly a disguise. I am always myself."

[Loki shifts back to male, though the clothes remain the same (shifting =/= magic)]

M: "Yeah, well, next time you want to go undercover at the TVA, maybe don't choose a face we already have from several other of your variants."

[Loki twitches a little, since that wasn't a form he openly wore a lot (even when he wanted to) cause Asgard is a dick about shifting genders] 

L: "And how does that work exactly?"

M: "Got your entire life on file, buddy. But you know, sometimes Asgard isn't a complete stick in the mud the day you gather enough courage to show up to dinner in a dress. We usually have to prune those timelines quickly."

[Loki's grin is more like a snarl, frozen on his face, since he picks up the implications loud and clear (the implication being that him being too happy is not allowed in the Sacred Timeline)]

M: [picks up the files Loki was looking at] "Come on, I've got something to show you."

-cue time theater scene

-that little scene of looking out at the TVA does not feature Loki being impressed or awed at the TVA's tech. It features him being scared/uneasy because the TVA is completely dead to his senses. Loki's eyes do the same flash as before, but everything is completely dull, no energy anywhere. He can barely see some swirls on his own arms]

-Loki asks why this charade, Mobius tells him the TVA is willing to come to an agreement with Loki for his help

"You're not the only one running around messing up the Sacred Timeline. Come on, job interview time."

(it's really really not)

- Mobius tries the same schtick as before, but it's both less and more effective. Less cause Loki has had a bit more time to collect himself since the invasion, more cause he's more aware of the TVA's power and has been chased by them for a while now

- we see Loki being affected by the Frigga thing BUT he also picks up how edited the reel is

- still, he lets Mobius do the "only thing you're good for" bit until we see him look up with murder in his eyes, even through the tears

- "I am going to burn this place to the ground and I am going to start with you. That is my bargain."

"Yeah, cause your "bargains" [Mobius full on air quotes here] work out so well for you," he says, offering Loki a hand up

-cue alarm and Mobius rushing out

-Loki grabs the files Mobius left behind, and also the tape in the hologram projector and escapes

- no infinity stones scene, cause Loki still has the Tesseract and doesn't go to look for more

- cut to the TVA running around in a panic, multiple branches forming on the displays. It's the same bombing plot as in the show, but now serving as a distraction for Loki to get away

- when they figure this out, Ravonna: "You should have just pruned him when you found him. There's a reason we don't reset Loki variants. Our luck always runs out eventually with them. Fix this, Mobius. Or you'll have to answer to the TimeKeepers."

- back to Loki, he steps out into chaos as something explodes behind him. He's in another apocalypse. During his running from the TVA, he noticed it takes them longer to find him whenever there's a lot of chaos around him, death and destruction. He finds a still intact building, seems high tech. Everyone else has already evacuated

- he takes the Tesseract out and blue and green energy surges around him and engulfs the building. It's suddenly quiet and we see outside the windows are pitch black 

- Loki quickly looks away

"Finally, some peace and quiet."

He slumps down to the floor, files scattered around him, tesseract nearby and curls up, dejected and exhausted 

Side note: Loki doesn't need to worry about recharging tempads since he has the tesseract, which was established in Avengers as able to provide infinite energy

Ep 3:

- he finds out about the variants in this episode, maybe goes looking for other variants before the TVA finds them

-how Loki finds out the TVA are all variants: he'd knocked out B-15 for a bit to interrogate her

-they're found by another team of minutemen, led by B-16, who is wearing B-15's face. Several of the other minutemen we've seen Loki kill in earlier episodes as well. They attack *both* of them cause they assume B-15 is compromised. Loki and B-15 work together and kill the whole lot, staring at each other incredulously

"You're Variants! You're all Variants!"

[B-15 collapses to her knees in shock] 

End episode

EDIT: My basic idea for episodes 4 & 5 were Loki and B-15 working together and travelling through various timelines trying to get to the TimeKeepers, but realizing something was wrong the further they went. Time begins breaking down, paradoxes are all over the place and the TVA keeps pruning some specific place so much that sometimes two teams are on top of each other. Stuff like that. 

I also had a few scenes where Loki meets other variants (that aren't him), but who actually like and even love him. Men, women, variations thereupon, and one or two who would mistake Loki for their Loki. So we get bi confirmation without actually including romance in the show itself, because 6 episodes isn't enough to develop that along with everything else that's going on.

Vaguely outlined here: 

My "how to include the bi thing without the main story being a romance and also indicating that Loki is able to be liked and loved by people who aren't just variants of himself, please and thank you":

(note to self, rewrite this so it makes sense lol EDIT: lol, don't feel like it so this is all you get, folks!) 

a variant significant other, male: kisses Loki

Loki: You are clearly my type, but I'm sorry. I'm not him.

[heartbroken expression on the variant]

from another timeline Loki visits:

woman holding a sword to his head after looking at him suspiciously: Change back!

Loki: Into who?!

woman: Her!

[Loki shapeshifts into his female self]

woman lets go of the sword

"You escaped! When Odin took you away, I thought he would kill you. Why did you never come back to me, my love?"

EDIT: My "twist" ending was that the Time Keepers were dead, not that they never existed. Some sort of mcguffin exists to just break the whole TVA and free the timelines. Idk, maybe the TVA was just a test to see if it'd work, but the system just kept perpetuating itself after the power hungry losers kept it going beyond the bounds of the experiment. Either way: 

villain plot twist: the time keepers are long dead. the TVA is a terrible system that perpetuated itself on its own, only a few judges were aware that the timekeepers had ever died. The entire System Has To Go (lol like disney would ever go there)

The system is literally Killing the Universe, since the universe's natural state of being is a multiverse. But the system don't care, system don't give a shit. System only exists to perpetuate itself, system's survival is the most important, catastrophic universal failure need not apply

(this is way too on the nose for disney, but since this rewrite's motto is Fuck Disney, it shall stay)

EDIT: this was how I imagined the climax of the series.

Mobius or Ravonna (i never decided): "All the chaos, all the possibilities? How can you stand the uncertainty? How can you believe the world will be any better than it is now?"

Loki: "Because it has to be!" [smashy smashy TVA]

series ends with the timeline breaking free

we see various scenes of the variants in their former lives, happy

and AU scenes of the previous movies:

Loki gets pulled up on the bridge

Loki accepts Thor's offer during the Avengers

Loki gets up on Svartalfheim, bleeding heavily, but doesn't go to Asgard but to Thor

Loki tricks Thanos during IW

Loki as an Avenger

Loki as a kid

Loki as a girl

Loki on jotunheim, fully jotun

Loki on Asgard, jotun

faster and faster, all sorts of different AU scenes until the screen goes dark and we see our Loki, smirking

"But...well, those are stories for another time."

and he steps back into the shadows.

[adenei]

Summer of Jily - Week 7

Yahoo! I'm all caught up for @efkgirldetective's summer of Jily Challenge!

This week's prompts: Ice cream and "I don't want anyone touching you like I do"

*********

Two days passed since their impromptu first date in the coziness of the cabin, and things could not be better. At least, that’s what James thought. The only snafu in the plan was that neither he nor Lily had discussed telling their friends about the relationship. Stolen moments alone were spent enjoying each other’s company while keeping an ear out for anyone who might intrude on their private time together.

They were no closer to coming up with a way of revealing their relationship, and if James was being honest, he quite liked the thrill of keeping his girlfriend, Lily, a secret from the Marauders. Sirius would probably hex him into tomorrow if he found out James was hiding something, but he would deal with that when the time came.

After two days of rain, the weather had finally cleared up, and the boys found themselves roaming up and down the main street of town while the girls were off shopping.

“Honestly, how much shopping can they possibly do?” Peter asked as he plopped down on a bench.

“With Mary and Marlene at the helm? It’s safer not to ask,” Remus thought out loud.

“It’s been two hours, and they’ve still got another half hour before they’re due to meet us for that picture show Mary’s been droning on about,” Sirius pointed out.

In an effort to avoid his friends’ complaints, James looked around the area for something to pass their time. His eyes settled on an ice cream shop across the street.

“Well, we could either sit here or go get some ice cream over there at that shop,” James suggested.

Peter perked up at the mention of ice cream while Remus gave a noncommittal shrug. Sirius was the only one to verbalize his agreement as he stood and led their way to the shop, his mood much brighter than moments ago.

“I could go for some ice cream! I prefer Muggle cotton candy ice cream to Fortescue’s strawberry peanut butter any day.”

The rest of the Marauders followed and approached the queue. They stood behind an older couple and waited. James continued to observe their surroundings, hoping that the girls might appear. He already missed Lily despite only being separated for a couple hours. As he was scanning the area, a group of girls who looked to be around their age joined the queue behind them, which Sirius was quick to point out.

“Look how hot that lot is, mate.”

James nodded, though he didn’t take the time to check them out. He was about to change the subject when one of the girls took notice of them and giggled. The sound caught his attention and distracted his attention. One of the girls was eyeing him; she was blonde with bright blue eyes and a petite frame, certainly attractive, but no longer his type. His type was Lily Evans, plain and simple.

He flashed a polite smile, then averted his gaze as the queue moved up. The boys were called up to the next window to order, and he was happy to put some distance between them and the group behind. Knowing it was easier for them all to order and have one person pay, James placed his order first and then turned to have the others follow suit. He dug out his muggle money to handle the transaction while the rest of the Marauders moved over to the pick-up window to wait for their treats.

“This is so different from Fortescue’s. Why can’t we watch them prepare it?” Peter whined.

“You mean scoop ice cream into cones and dishes and hand it to you? Beats me,” Sirius chided.

“He has a point, Pads. It’s interesting to watch sometimes,” Remus defended Peter’s observation as James chuckled.

“Yeah, beats waiting around having to make small talk with you,” he joked.

“Large cotton candy?” called the attendant from the window.

Sirius leaped up to claim his ice cream, looking like a kid in a candy store upon his return.

“Care to share a lick?” James teased as he leaned in to try and swipe a bite before Sirius had a chance to dig in.

“Not a chance!” Sirius guarded his cone as the attendant called out again.

“Crazy vanilla!”

“Ooh, that’s me!” Peter clapped his hands and went to collect his order.

Remus looked at James and Sirius. “Does he realize that that flavor is just vanilla ice cream but dyed different colors?”

“Shh, don’t ruin it for him, Moony!” Sirius waved him off. As Peter returned to the group, Sirius waved him along. “C’mon Wormtail, let’s go snag that table over there while these two wait for their more complicated orders.”

They took off while James and Remus continued to wait.

“Hot fudge sundae!”

“That’s me!” James jumped forward, approaching the window at the same time as the blonde who was checking him out earlier, and both reached for the same dish.

“Oh! Sorry,” she said, pulling her hand back and tucking a strand of hair behind her ears.

“No, no, go ahead,” James took the dish and handed it to her. “You’ve got good taste,” he added with a polite smile.

“So do you,” she smiled back. “Are you on holiday with your mates?”

Her inquiry takes James by surprise, but he supposes a bit of small talk can’t hurt. “Er, yeah. We’re staying in a cabin on the lake.”

“Oh, us too! On the north or south side?”

“Er, north, I think?”

James wasn’t sure if he was being honest, but it wasn’t like they were going to run into the girl again, so a little white lie couldn’t hurt.

“Same for us! I’m Elaine, by the way.” She held out her hand with the introduction.

“James,” he responded, reaching out to give her hand a quick shake.

“Say, what are you doing tonight? We could get together for a fire or something?”

Unfortunately, it looked like his willing response gave the wrong impression as the girl to the opportunity to ask him out. Her smile had turned seductive and James realized a moment too late that she was flirting. Had he really lost his game so quickly since making a go of things with Lily?

Another hot fudge sundae order was called along with Remus’s chocolate milkshake. James was about to excuse himself to grab his ice cream when Remus appeared out of nowhere.

“I’ve got this, mate.”

“Oh, er, thanks.” James grimaced.

Because Remus didn’t know about Lily, he didn’t know that James needed the ice cream as an excuse to get out of this.

Of all the times Remus decided to urge me on.

“It’ll be a fun time, I promise,” Elaine winked. “Come with me to our table and I can write down our address for you to meet us later. It won’t take long.”

The blonde reached out her free hand to graze James’s forearm and lead him to the table her friends had occupied. He followed since he couldn’t think of a way out of it. At least the solution after this point was easy. He’d thank her, make a false promise to show up, and then never follow through.

He wasn’t expecting Elaine to keep hold of his arm, and the feeling sent prickles of discomfort through the rest of his body. James wasn’t even aware that the girl was still chattering away as he was still thinking of a way to get back to his friends, and hoping Lily was still on the opposite side of town so they wouldn’t get in a row over this.

And that’s when he felt another hand grasp his opposite arm.

The feeling of the second touch was much warmer, searing his bicep as it pulled him away from the blonde with a force he wasn’t used to. As his body spun around he caught a flash of red hair before the second person’s lips were on his, the kiss deep and searing, taking him by surprise.

He was familiar with the feel of Lily’s lips by now, and forgetting that they were in public, James’s body melted into the embrace even though it was far from romantic and comforting. As Lily’s arms snaked around his neck to pull him closer, James realized she was staking her claim and it was hot. He felt the immediate arousal strain against his trousers as the thought of Lily’s jealousy sent a course of desire through his body.

It barely phased him that they were in a very public place, no doubt in front of all their friends. Yet, when the thought finally registered in his lust-filled brain, clarity sobered his body, replacing the desire with a nervous excitement.

So much for keeping things quiet.

When Lily pulled away, her gaze was fierce as she narrowed her eyes and squeezed his arms a bit harder while whispering in his ear, “I don’t want anyone else touching you like I do.”

Bloody hell, would it be improper to disapparate us back to the cabin to have my way with her right now?

Yes, yes it would. Stupid statute of secrecy.

The battle to act on his instincts versus do the right thing warred in his mind.

“And you,” Lily peered over his shoulder to the blonde who was standing behind them, mouth gaping open in surprise, “keep your hands off my boyfriend.”

“Your WHAT?!”

A chorus of shouts and shrieks escaped the mouths of their friends at Lily’s over-zealous warning.

“Looks like it’s not a secret anymore,” Lily shrugged as she pulled James back to their friends.

“Hmm, I was hoping that maybe they didn’t notice the public snog assault you just attacked me with,” James laughed. “You know I wasn’t going to do anything with her, right? She cornered me and Remus of all people helped her along. I couldn’t get away.”

“Yes, yes, I trust you. I just let my temper get the best of me, I suppose,” Lily admitted, though she didn’t seem ashamed in the slightest.

“Don’t worry, I like Aggressive Lily. Maybe I’ll let other girls try and whisk me away more—”

“Don’t you dare,” she warned, though the glint in her eye reassured him that she knew he was kidding.

“I suppose it’s time to face the onslaught of our friends, don’t you think?”

Lily sighed, “You’re sure we can’t just disapparate away instead?”

“I wish, but I’ve got a hot fudge sundae over there with my name on it. If you answer all the questions, though, I might be inclined to share.”

A devilish smirk crossed her lips as she dropped his hand and made a beeline for the table. “Not if I get there first!”

“Hey!”

James followed after her, knowing full well he’d share the ice cream with her regardless as they took turns answering their friends’ questions. Maybe it wasn’t the way James and Lily intended for the group to find out, but it certainly made for a good memory to look back on someday.

[sleeping-on-cracking-ice]

hello! i was wondering if you could make a kurabe imagine/fanfic? any type!

Yesss! I’ve been wanting to write for him. Thanks for requesting! ❤️

To Protect The Protector | Daikichi Karube

{Alice In Borderland Masterlist}

Character(s): Karube (ft. Alice, Chota, Shibuki)

Genre: fluff

Summary: Karube came back from his game injured, so you look after him for the night

Warning: swearing, blood

Word Count: 2.1k

*reader is gender-neutral

The air was frozen around you. No breeze or slight wind was present in the slightest, making the atmosphere unsettling. Even the crows were silent, having lost their usual screeching that rang through everyone’s ears throughout the day.

Your adrenaline has been on a constant flow through your veins since you survived the first game. Watching the young high school girl get penetrated by the laser struck a deep chord within you. You couldn’t move a muscle as Karube pulled you into the next room before you were engulfed in flames.

You’ve never experienced anything like this world. Where has everyone gone? Who is running the games? Are there any other players?

A young woman that you met last night at the first game named Shibuki decided to stick by your sides for a while. You all took refuge in an empty mall, considering the amount of resources that would be available to you that could come in handy for some reason or another.

Shibuki sat everyone down after a good night’s sleep and explained the concept of the world you were now trapped in. She had only been present in the game for a little longer than you, but you still put trust in her as she obviously knew more than the four of you.

Your boyfriend Karube, who you happened to be with at the time of everyone’s disappearance, has become more anxious about your safety. Since things started becoming peculiar, he has remained tight to your side, ready to shield you from god knows what.

That was just his personality. Yes, he could be blunt and impatient sometimes, but he honestly did care about Alice, Chota and you more than you guys could have ever imagined. He knew he was the brawn of your small friendship group, so he took it upon himself to be the protector.

But unfortunately, him and Alice were too confident and curious for their own good. Alice and Karube had a private chat on one of the mall balcony's discussing whether they should go to an extra game to gain an idea about how they play out, but also to see if they were able to find any players that had a past in medical fields to perhaps look at Chota’s searing burn injury on his lower right leg.

When it came to the next day, Karube talked to you in private without the others, wanting to have some alone time with you.

“Wait what?” you asked shocked. “You’re going to another game? Karube, I’m sorry but are you an idiot? You saw what happened in the game we went to, you could die at any moment!” you exclaimed at him. Karube went silent from your outburst but tried to reason with you. “Look Y/N, I know you’re worried but Alice and I need to see how this place works so we can protect you and Chota.” he said, placing a hand on your cheek.

“But what about you? Who’s going to protect you?” you remarked. You were scared more than anything. You didn’t want to wake up the next morning to find that Karube and Alice never returned. It would’ve absolutely shattered your heart.

He looked up at you from his position on the bed in remorse. He felt awful putting you through the stress, but he knew he had to do it if you wanted to stay alive for as long as you could.

“Come here,” he said after a short juncture of silence. You glanced at his stressed face before moving towards the bed and placing your thighs comfortably on his lap. He wrapped his strong arms around your frame and held you tightly against him.

It should’ve felt comforting, but at that moment it didn’t. If anything, you were dreading the hug because it felt like a goodbye.

“I’m so sorry baby, but I have to go.” Karube rested his chin on top of your head. “I promise you I will do everything in my power to make sure I come back safe and sound.”

He felt you move your head up and down in a nod against him. You pressed your face into his orange shirt. “I know you’ll come back. A stupid game wouldn’t get rid of you. The world would have to work much harder to kill you off.”

Karube chuckled and pulled back to look into your eyes. “You’re right. I’ll be back before you know it.” he claimed.

You wished that were true. There you were now, standing out on a stone ledge looking over a big part of Shibuya. The lack of hustling and bustling from thousands of people was strange to get accustomed to. It was unsettling, almost frightening.

“Why the fuck did I let them go?” you cursed, letting out a harsh huff of breath. “This is bullshit. They have another day on their visa. We could have all waited until tomorrow to go to another game together.”

You heard Chota let out an agreeing hum from the table he was seated at  behind you. “It does seem a bit pointless now that we’ve had time to stress about it,” he admitted.

You slouched forward, having hoped for at least a positive response from Chota to reassure you. You continued to keep scanning the streets below you, looking for any sign of another person. Anxiety filled your body the more you looked and couldn’t spot him.

“Shit,” you breathed out, rubbing your face with your hands. “Chota, what if they die?”

“Shh, don’t talk like that. They’ll be fine,” he shushed you quickly, trying to keep worse case scenarios out of his head.

Several hours later after the sun had set, you saw the familiar unpleasant light that indicated where the games were. Karube and Alice had left early to try and look for a doctor for Chota’s leg, so you knew they would then be on their way to the game.

Your heart leapt to your throat and stayed there for several hours as you laid on a couch. You couldn’t help but envision awful ways that Karube could possibly be killed. Before you knew it, hot tears began pooling in your orbs and running down your face onto the pillow underneath your head.

“Oh fuck,” you cried, your voice cracking, “Please be okay Karube. I can’t live on in this world without you.” You let out soft little sobs, trying to stay quiet in order not to alert Chota or Shibuki who were in the room over from you.

Quite literally, you cried yourself to sleep. Your eyes became heavier and heavier alongside the irritation that the tears brought. You closed your eyes and allowed yourself to pass out, manifesting the vision of seeing Karube laying next to you when you wake up. He would be unharmed and have the biggest smile on his handsome face, ready to pepper kisses all over your face to make up for all the stress he put you through for going to the game without you.

Soon enough, you woke abruptly from a loud noise coming from the door of the room, watching as it swung open harshly to reveal Alice holding Karube by the arm, acting as a crutch.

Karube stumbled in clutching his side. He glanced up with stained tears of pain in his eyes and smiled when he saw you still half-asleep on the couch.

You widened your eyes in surprise and breathed a sigh of relief. “Oh my god, Karube! Alice! Thank god.”

You scrambled to your feet and rushed over to the two exhausted men to help Alice out with Karube. Karube lifted his arm and wrapped it around you as you crashed into him in a reunion hug. Karube winced heavily from the huge machete wound in his side stinging.

“It’s okay baby, we’re okay,” he comforted you, pushing his face into your hair and breathing in your scent. You felt tears filling your vision again, the relief of seeing Karube safe and sound in your arms again being too overwhelming.

Ten minutes later, after everyone welcomed Alice and Karube back, you and Karube were sitting on the couch while the others searched for something fresh to eat further in the mall (which would be a challenge). Karube was wincing as you lifted up his black t-shirt to take a look at the wound he gained from the tagger in the ‘Tag’ game.

“Shit babe,” you groaned. Luckily it appeared like the machete hadn’t cut too deep into his abdomen. He wouldn’t need stitches, just disinfectant and a tight bandage to stop the blood flow.

Karube watched you as you walked over to the table to grab the disinfectant and medical bandage to use on him. He felt on edge because you hadn’t said much since he’d returned from the game. He was thinking maybe you were agitated with him.

“Y/N,” he said, catching your attention. “I’m sorry I went to the game. I know it was a mistake now,” he admitted, hanging his head low apologetically.

You shook your head disapprovingly and focused back on his wound. “Yeah, it was a mistake. This is the least that could’ve happened Karube.”

He could tell you were annoyed, because you always got smart with him when he’s angered you.

“Now you’re going to be disadvantaged at your next game with this gaping wound in your side.” You stated. You began pouring the rubbing alcohol onto a cloth. “Just warning you, this is going to hurt but try not to squirm too much.”

Karube nodded and held his black t-shirt up so you could disinfect his injury. As you pressed the cloth to the slice, Karube hissed and placed his hand over yours. “Just be gentle,” he stammered.

You nodded and continued to go slow.

After you managed to clean his injury, he stood up so you could wrap the bandage around his abdomen. He stared at you as you did so, smiling to himself about how lucky he was to have you look after him like this.

When you were done, you brushed off your hands and placed the disinfectant back on the table. Karube sat back down and looked at you.

“Thank you Y/N,” he said in a sweet tone. You glanced over your shoulder and saw him gazing at you lovingly. You grinned, being glad that he was okay.

“You’re welcome,” you answered. “Can you promise me something?” you asked, turning around fully to face him. Karube leant forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “Of course, anything for you.”

“If it ever came to a choice between you or me to continue living, you need to promise me that you’ll choose yourself,” you murmured. Karube’s cheeky smile rolled off his face, replaced by a confused expression.

“Why would I do that? I love you. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I survived but you didn’t.” he said sadly, reaching out his arms to invite you into a hug.

You took the invitation and trudged over to him, standing between his legs and letting him wrap his strong arms around your waist while resting his head on your stomach.

“Yeah, I know you would Karube. I feel the same way but, you have a dream and a bright future ahead of you. I wouldn’t want to take that away from you if it came to that.” you ran your fingers through his coarse, bleached blonde hair and he let out a big sigh.

“But my dream is you Y/N. I want to stay with you,” he professed. “I want to leave this place with you, no one else.”

You felt your heart clutch itself in your chest. You felt awful. You didn’t know what to do or say to make things seem better than they were. That was the horrific reality about that world, nothing you could ever say would make things better or more comforting.

“Why don’t we just focus on surviving and keeping each other alive for now and focus on the more serious stuff when it comes to it,” Karube spoke up, resting his chin against your stomach to look up at you with his big dark eyes.

You stared down at him with so much love. You do anything to keep him with you, to keep him happy and safe. Just his eyes alone show the amount of love and care he holds in his blunt heart.

You smiled slowly and nodded your head in agreement. “Of course. Let’s just focus on staying alive right now so we can have many more moments together.”

Author’s Note: I hope this wasn’t too boring. I have a lot of requests for Alice In Borderland lined up so I’ll be working through them and posting them when I can! 💕

[ahsokryze]

hi I’m back with another prompt bc the first prompt fill you did for me was so so good and I crave more!!!

Number 10 from the same prompts list please? I wanna know what the day before was like from the previous prompt I sent 🥺🥺🥺

thanks for the prompt! I kinda got carried away with this… // prompts now closed

10 - hair ruffles

(this is a prequel to this prompt fill)

~~~

"I'm cold, Master."

Obi-Wan lowered his binoculars, looking from the vast expanse of white in the distance over to the only figure amongst the vast expanse of white. Anakin, adorned in his light blue temple-issue winter parka, was standing several feet away, leaned slightly forward with his arms dangling in front of him, looking incredibly bored. Though he couldn't see Anakin's face through the buff he was wearing (the buff that Anakin had so far flat out refused to take off—even for eating and drinking—which, surprisingly, Anakin had somehow managed to do. Anakin. Ever so intuitive), Obi-Wan could tell that his former Padawan was dawning his oh so familiar "i'm bored" pouty expression. Obi-Wan didn't even have to look at Anakin to recognise that face.

"I know, Anakin. But we only have to keep surveying for a little while longer. It won't be too long until we can head back to the ship."

Anakin let out a disgruntled whine, turning around to kick at a mound of snow with his boot. Obi-Wan rolled his eyes with a sigh, lifting his binoculars. Oh Anakin...

"Ugghhh," Anakin grumbled. "We've been looking for hours, Obi-Wan, and there's clearly nothing here. No Separatists. No droids. No wildlife. Nothing. So can we please just go home now?"

"Anakin." Obi-Wan sighed. To be fair, Anakin wasn't wrong. They really had seen nothing all day. Not even any wildlife—though there could be creatures burrowed and living underground—but that wasn't why they were here. They were here to search for any indication of Separatist control on this planet.

"I admit that there is likely nothing here," he continued. "We will wait five more minutes. And if nothing changes, we can head back to the ship. Does that sound like a good deal, my impatient Padawan?"

"I'm not a Padawan anymore, Obi-Wan."

"Oh?” he said, lowering his binoculars. “Then why are you acting like one?"

Anakin crossed his arms with a defiant huff, turning away. Obi-Wan had to hold back a chuckle.

"Patience, young one."

"I have been patient," Anakin replied. "All day."

"Oh Anakin. I'm sure you can manage five more minutes?"

"Yes."

"Good."

Obi-Wan once again lifted his binoculars to scan the frozen, icy landscape ahead of them. After a few moments, he let out a sigh. There really wasn't anything here. Nothing but dunes of snow and ice, upon more dunes of snow and ice.

Obi-Wan lowered his binoculars to look at Anakin.

"Ugh,” Anakin muttered. “And I thought Orto Plutonia was cold..."

The younger man was repeatedly dragging his heel through a powdery section of snow on the ground. He was writing something, Obi-Wan realised. At a glance, it read: IM BORED. Obi-Wan let out a scoff, rolling his eyes.

"Having fun there?"

When Obi-Wan's playful question went unanswered, he put his hand on his hip.

"Anakin, watch your footing. That area looks quite icy."

"I am watching my footing."

"Now he speaks." Obi-Wan muttered. He received a glare in return.

Obi-Wan watched Anakin for a few more moments,  before turning round to scan the frozen wonderland another time. Snow. Snow. Snow. More snow.

"Master, look over here. I think I see something."

"What do you see?" Obi-Wan asked, turning back to see that Anakin was perched dangerously close to the edge of the ice river flowing close by, pointing at something Obi-Wan couldn't quite see amongst the rush of crystal blue water below.

"Look."

"Careful, Anakin," Obi-Wan said, watching how Anakin was crouched over a section of thinly veiled ice as he padded towards him. "What is it?"

"I'm not sure, I think it..."

"Anakin—"

"Ahh—"

There was a resounding thud. A sharp cry.

And Obi-Wan watched as Anakin slipped and slid down the side of the riverbank, submerging into the icy water below with a large splash.

"Anakin!"

—–—

"Come on, let's get you dried off."

Now safely back on the ship, Obi-Wan peeled the soaking-icy parka away from Anakin's shivering body, throwing it unceremoniously on the floor in a heap.

"Arms up."

Obi-Wan quickly stripped Anakin of his soaked layers, wrapping him up in a large blanket (they didn't have any towels so a blanket would have to suffice), and rubbing his arms and back in attempt to dry him off and warm him up.

Anakin shivered ceaselessly, even as Obi-Wan used the blanket to dry his dripping, icy hair, rubbing the sodden curls between the fabric in his hands, grimacing at the tiny ice crystals which had formed as a result of the cold. Once Anakin was mostly dry, Obi-Wan wrapped a new blanket around his former Padawan, handing him a spare set of tunics to change into—a beige set of tunics, to be precise.

"Sorry," Obi-Wan said. "They were the only ones I could find.”

"'s okay."

"Will you manage to get changed on your own?"

Anakin nodded, his teeth chattering.

"All right. I'm going to go start up the ship so we can leave this snowball, and then i'll come back to see about getting you warmed up."

Before he even gave Anakin the chance to reply, Obi-Wan swiftly rushed into the cockpit to start up the ship.

—–—

Watching the hypnotic swirl of hyperspace through the viewport ahead, Anakin sat in the co-pilot seat in the cockpit, bundled up in a cocoon made from all of the dry blankets on the ship. He was warmer now than he had been, yet he couldn't seem to stop shivering, feeling a deep chill lingering in his core.

With the sudden feeling of a hand ruffling through his hair, Anakin turned his head to find Obi-Wan kneeling by his side, a caring smile on his face.

"How are you feeling?"

Anakin let out a hum, shivering as he shrugged the best he could while wrapped in his blanket cocoon. Obi-Wan's brows drew in concern, placing his hand over Anakin's forehead.

“Are you still cold?” he asked. Anakin nodded.

“A little.”

“Come here.” Obi-Wan reached out and quickly rubbed Anakin’s shoulders and back, attempting to warm him up a little more. It seemed to work. Anakin’s shivering ceased. Even if it was just for a few minutes.

After that, Anakin slipped in and out of sleep as tiredness overcame him, soothed by the gentle thrum of hyperspace as their shuttle continued en-route to Coruscant. A few times, he woke up to the feeling of a warm hand on his forehead; his former Master intermittently checking his temperature, before he would drift off again, tranquillised by the endless blue and white swirl of hyperspace as they travelled across the stars.

“Anakin… Anakin, we’re home now.”

Anakin awoke to a soft voice willing him from sleep. A gentle hand stroking his hair.

“We just landed. We’re at the temple. Do you want to go inside now?”

Anakin slowly blinked, the image of his former Master coming into view. Obi-Wan was kneeling by his side, looking at him with a warm smile from outside the blanket cocoon he was still bundled up in. Anakin nodded sleepily.

“Come on then. I’ll take you back to your quarters.”

But, instead of heeding Obi-Wan’s words, Anakin didn’t so much as budge from where he sat, instead letting his eyes shut once again. His throat felt weird now, he noticed. It was all scratchy and yucky as he breathed in. And his nose was starting to run now too. He sniffed, but that only made everything feel worse.

“Anakin, are you going to move?” Obi-Wan whispered, lightly nudging his shoulder. “Or do you plan on staying in here all night.”

Anakin didn’t reply. Staying in here honestly sounded like a great idea. Yes, he was just going to stay here. He was comfortable right now. And the thought of having to leave his cosy little cocoon made him shiver.

Obi-Wan nudged him again. “Anakin.”

When Anakin still didn't reply, after a few moments, he heard Obi-Wan let out a quiet sigh. Then, he was being lifted up, and Anakin felt too tired to argue, already drifting back to sleep in his former Master’s arms.

—–—

Anakin awoke to find himself being tucked into his own bed. Obi-Wan was covering him with extra blankets, meticulously tucking the fabric in at his sides as if he were a youngling. Normally, Anakin would've complained, telling his former Master that he wasn't a youngling anymore—he didn't have to be tucked in.

But right now, Anakin couldn't bring himself to care. After all, it was making him feel all cosy and warm.

"Hey, Anakin," Obi-Wan whispered, seeming to notice his eyes were open. "We're back home now. I tried to wake you on the ship, but you didn't seem to want to move.”

Anakin blinked, slowly nodding. Obi-Wan gently smoothed back his hair, brushing away a few loose curls which had fallen into his eyes.

“Are you feeling okay?” Obi-Wan asked with a whisper. “Still cold?”

Anakin shrugged. When Obi-Wan didn’t seem to take that for an answer, Anakin sighed.

“Feel like…blegh.”

““Blegh”?” Obi-Wan questioned. Anakin nodded. ‘Blegh’ really did feel like the best way to describe how he was feeling. He didn’t feel terrible, but he also didn’t feel okay either.

“Oh, well, i’m sorry you’re feeling this way, Anakin.” Obi-Wan replied. “Though, I must point out, maybe there is some merit to listening to your old Master when he says “watch your footing”, hmm?”

“Was watching my footing.”

“Oh, clearly.” Obi-Wan deadpanned. “So you were watching your footing when you slipped and slid all the way into that ice river? Before I had to come and rescue you?”

Anakin rolled his eyes. Obi-Wan ruffled his hair.

“Why don’t you get some more rest, Anakin.”

Anakin let out a big yawn, his body already seeming to succumb to Obi-Wan’s words. Obi-Wan gently tucked the edge of his blanket under his chin.

“Goodnight, Anakin,” Obi-Wan whispered softly, placing a hand lightly on his head. Anakin felt the becalming surge of a sleep suggestion being pushed into his mind. His eyes fluttered closed. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

[autumnsart22]

First time in College: Suna x reader

College AU with the Haikyuu boys: Suna Rintarou x fem reader 🤤

Let me know if you want part 2 :)

He is literally so fine I--

Art creds go to agatha123naruto

God, you should never have agreed to do this. Your laptop was calling you, Attack on Titan already pulled up and ready to watch...and yet here you were, shifting uncomfortably in a tight crop top and booty shorts your roommate had provided you with. You crossed your arms over your stomach, trying to hide yourself, but you only succeeded in pushing your tits up. 

“Hey, relax, it’s just a party.” Kiyoko smiled softly from her side of the room, applying some chapstick and holding a pair of sneakers. 

“Ugh,” you rolled your eyes. Yes, it was just a party...but it was also the first college party you were going to be attending. And a frat party at that. Ugh. 

The first few months of college had been perfectly well off without them, and you weren’t exactly sure why Kiyoko had been able to convince you to come along this time. Maybe you had felt a little like you were missing out when your roommate would come back giggling and tipsy late into the night every weekend, and maybe you wanted to put a bit more effort into socializing. You had friends, but not a huge group--which was fine. But also, college was a time to try new things...even if that meant frat parties. 

“Don’t worry, you’ll probably know some people. And if not, you can just stick with me.” Kiyoko finished putting on her shoes, heading towards the door. “We’ll get drinks as soon as possible.” 

You sighed, resigning yourself as you followed her out the door. 

The party was just as bad as you expected. It was packed in the house, the lights dimmed, flashing, and confusing as people pushed from all sides. You almost spilled your third drink as you searched for Kiyoko, pretty much impossible in the darkness. You had lost her a little while ago when she had started talking to a guy named Tanaka, and now she seemed to be missing. 

“OI!” You looked up to see a clearly wasted, shirtless guy standing on the table, a bottle of beer in his hand. He had blonde hair with a dark undercut, and you were pretty sure you recognized him as one of the frat guys...maybe Atsumu? You didn’t know him well enough to be sure. “We’re putting on a movie, if you fuckheads want to join,” Asumu yelled, practically falling off the table. 

Maybe Kiyoko was with them watching a movie. 

The crowd swallowed you up again as you headed towards where Atsumu had disappeared, but you managed to push your way into the living room. There were four couches stuffed into the wide space, but every seat was taken, including spots on the floor. 

You scanned the room for Kiyoko’s hair, but yet again, no such luck. The projector was set up to play a horror movie, and your stomach clenched unpleasantly as you realized what it was. You really, really hated horror movies--did they seriously have to pick this to watch?

You bit your lip, but the lights were dimming and you had to stop standing awkwardly off to the side. You spotted the arm of one of the couches that was free, but that same couch was also filled with frat guys with girls in their laps. Would I be weird for taking a spot next to them? Would they be ok with that? 

Shit, calm down. This isn’t high school, and I’m a bad bitch. Also, I’m sexy as fuck. I got this. 

Right. You straightened your shoulders and marched across the room, dodging random girls sprawled across the floor mixed with bongs and beer bottles. You barely even glanced at the occupants of the couch as you settled precariously on the arm, as far from them as possible as the movie began to play. 

Almost immediately, your heart was racing and fingers digging into the cushions, and you wanted to run from the room. Why, why, why had you done this to yourself? You could have just turned and left the living room to begin with. Fuck trying new things. 

You were considering how you’d make a subtle escape when a drunken kid with bright orange hair slammed into your shoulder as he tried to get past, causing you to lose your balance on the arm of the couch and fall directly into the lap of one of the guys to your right. 

For a moment, you were too stunned to move, and you could only stare up at the equally surprised face of one of the frat boys. He had dark brown hair and yellow eyes, the whites tinted red; presumably from the joint in his hand. The smell of weed rolled off him, and you were pretty sure that it wasn’t his first one. 

“Oh-Oh my god I’m so sorry,” you gasped, rolling awkwardly off him onto the floor. “I didn’t mean to--I mean--um--” 

“Look what you’ve done Suna.” You glanced over to see the same shirtless guy from before, the one you assumed was Atsumu. “You scare off all the girls.” 

The lap guy, Suna, just shrugged and took another hit. 

“No, that’s not...” you tried, your halfway drunken brain desperately trying to calm down. “I fell on him.” 

Atsumu grinned at you. “It’s ok, you don’t have to bother with him. He’s a piece of shit anyway.” 

“I didn’t say--”

“What, so you want to sit on his lap?” 

“What????” How was this conversation even happening? You wanted to punch Atsumu in the face, and you also wanted to sprint from the building and never show your face to the light of day again. 

Unfortunately, now Suna was looking at you, as were the other frat boys sitting on the couch and the girls on their laps. “I mean,” you cleared your throat. “I- I guess.” 

Idiot. IDIOT. 

“Ah nice. You see Suna, that’s how you get girls--”

“Fuck off, Atsumu. Stop pressuring her.” Suna glared at him, and you let out a breath...until his yellow eyes turned to you, and your lungs hitched yet again. “You can if you want, but we’re holding up the movie.” 

He was right; someone had paused the movie since Atsumu was standing right in front of the projector, which meant everyone was waiting on you. 

“Are you ok with that?” You asked as you stood up, trying to sound confident and bored. 

Suna’s eyes lazily trailed down and up, and he shrugged. “Whatever.” 

Ouch. “Uh, right.” 

He leaned back on the couch, his legs sprawled wide to give you room between them, and your heart began to pound. Jesus Christ. 

You awkwardly sat down, trying to give him space in the very limited area, but his thighs were still pressed tight up against your ass. 

The movie started again, and almost immediately every muscle in your body tensed up. At the first jump scare, you flinched so hard that you elbowed Suna’s knee, making him grunt in pain. 

“S-sorry,” you whispered, hands shaking a little. 

He shifted, leaning forward so you could feel the heat from his chest inches away. “Hey, are you good?” 

“Um, yeah. I just really hate horror mov--” The serial killer stepped out from behind the door and you gasped, turning your face away. 

Suddenly, you felt Suna’s hands pressing against your ears, blocking out the creepy music and the sound of people getting murdered in front of you. You looked up at him in surprise, and he shrugged, leaning even closer. 

“Horror movies are worse with sound,” he said in your ear so you could hear him. 

“Thanks,” you murmured, and he smirked. 

“You can relax. You’re so tense, it’s freaking me out.” 

You let out a breath, forcing your muscles to unclench. It was more comfortable, but it also meant that you were now flat against Suna’s chest, his hands still on your ears. 

You tried watching like that for a while, and it was better, but in the end you decided that sound or not--horror movies weren’t your thing. You ended up hiding your face in Suna’s shoulder, until you realized what you were doing and quickly jerked back.

“Oh sorry, I didn’t mean to get in your personal space--”

“It’s fine. Be quiet.” He wrapped his arms around your waist, tucking you against his chest so you could easily bury your face in his shoulder. He smelled nice, mostly of pot, but with undertones of mint and almond or something. 

As the movie continued, he turned his head to press his lips against your ear. “Want me to explain what’s going on?” 

“Oh...okay.”

“So basically...ugh what is even happening.” You smiled a little at his annoyance. “So this idiot girl just went into the house when clearly she shouldn’t have, aaaand there’s the murderer. Damn she’s dumb. Honestly he’s kind of dumb too, why is he running with a knife? That’s a safety hazard.” 

You snorted, feeling a large part of your fear drain out of you at his stupid narration. 

“This is literal shit,” he muttered. “How does this scare you?” 

You huffed, annoyed at his condescending tone. “I don’t know, just the jump scares, and the creepy lead up, and the music...I just hate it.” 

“Do you want to leave? You don’t have to watch, you know” 

“I…” I clenched your fists, suddenly determined. “No. I can make it through.” 

“Why…? You’re literally not even watching.” 

“Just shut up. I’m facing my fears.” 

He laughed under his breath, and you felt it in his chest. “How admirable.” 

He patted your head, taking another hit of the joint, which was practically gone. “Want some of this?” He gestured to it. 

“Oh, sure. That’s fine?” 

“I wouldn’t have offered it if it wasn’t.” “Right...” You took the joint from him and took a deep hit, and then another, just needing to relax. It didn’t stop you from almost jumping out of your skin when the murderer suddenly pushed someone down the stairs. 

Suna smirked at your terror, and you glared at him. “This isn’t funny!” 

“Kind of is.” 

It took another twenty minutes, but then finally the film was over, the lights were turned back on, and you were facing Suna again. 

“Thanks for doing that,” you said, a blush creeping up your cheeks as you met his pretty eyes. 

He shrugged. “Sure.” 

“Well, uh. I should probably go. Maybe I’ll see you around.” 

“Wait, hold up--”

You didn’t wait for his response as you rolled off his lap, awkwardly waving, before practically running from the room. 

You found Kiyoko sitting on the couch with your friends Suga and Daichi, and you must have looked pretty panicked because she didn’t protest when you dragged her from the frat house.

“So...how was it for you?” She asked imploringly as we made our way back to our dorm. 

“Um….” You weren’t sure how to answer.

Part 2

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Fish

For @whump-advent-calendar‘s day 4-6, Burn/Candles

CW: Referenced medical whump and dehumanization, light burn (accidental), captivity, muzzling, drugging reference, reluctant whumper turned caretaker

Introduction | Siren Song | Cries | Here | Not Sure | Draw Blood | Fish | Signs

---

BAHRAM’S NOTES NOTE TO SELF - SAVE IN EXTERNAL HARD DRIVE. DO NOT LET DR. L SEE.

October 22nd, 20XX 3:45 am Mer in Residence: 19 Days

It’s time to admit I’m more or less keeping a diary at this point as I get to understanding him. So far I’ve written separate notes to myself… for ten or so straight days of the nineteen we’ve had him here, and it’s getting harder to write the official transcriptions the way Dr. L wants me to.

Dr. Lachlan insists I call the mer ‘it’, that it’s to help me distance myself emotionally since it’s such a good mimic of humanity, but I don’t think it’s a damn mimic, I think it’s just… human.

I mean, obviously it’s not HUMAN, but… Miah spelled it out for me, we had an argument about this when he first got here. She gets so angry that he’s getting hurt and you know, I guess I believed Dr. L - mer aren’t my specialty field, I’m a snake man really, I don’t know the first bloody thing about fucking cetaceans. 

Anyway, I said to her at the time, “It’s not human.”

She told me, “Maybe not H-U-M-A-N, but P-E-R-S-O-N,” just like jabbing me in the chest afterward. Also, Miah can fingerspell in a way that really makes you feel like a six year old getting yelled at by your mother, for the record. I can’t describe it any other way. I was ready to just melt away from personal embarrassment before she even finished signing “person.”

That’s not the point of this. 

I didn’t start a diary just to tell myself how right Miah is about all of this, but hey, here we are.

I need some days off so badly.

Miah wasn’t around today, it’s really just been me and the mer - I’m off for four days coming up here, after 20 days of work, and she’s going to come in and do 24-hour watch until I’m back. It’s not so bad - I don’t really know anyone here, and the bed’s comfortable enough. Dr. L’s paying rent on my apartment so I won’t lose it while I’m working, anyway.

I still feel like some low-level henchman, though. Like any moment some asshole in a tank top is going to show up with guns and I’ll just be a faceless evil stepping stone before the boss fight with Dr. L. 

I mean, we all know that Dr. L’s going to be the boss fight, right? Anders would just like lay down or throw Miah in front of himself or something.

No, that’s not fair, he really does love her.

Bahram this is all hypotheticals about a video game. Get back on track, man.

So Miah must have gone shopping or something. She came back with a bag full of these candles from this bookstore she really likes. I mean she came back with an insane amount of books, too, but she had this candle she pulled out and put down on my desk.

She set down the candle - it’s this really nice deep blue and has some kind of like ocean scene painted on the label, like, isn’t that thematic - and smiled at me. “This one reminded me of what we’re doing,” She told me, and her signs were… softer. Her expressions were softer alongside them.

Does that mean… anything? I don’t know. She just put it on my desk and then wandered off. I thanked her but I had to take her shoulder and get her to look at me, first. Maybe her face was a little red.

Maybe not. 

We keep the tank room pretty warm, I’m sort of cold-natured and the mer seems more active when we keep the lights really warm, so… 

I don’t get why she bought me a candle and why she looked away before I could thank her for it. I don’t get it, and I feel like I should, but I don’t. Is she not looking because it wasn’t a big deal, or because it was a big deal, or… what?

I really WOULD sink into the floor if Dr. L or Miah ever saw that I wrote this. Get it together, Bahram. You are not writing a diary about Miah fucking Kirsse. 

It’s been just me and the mer, all day. Dr. L was gone, too, meeting with whoever’s funding this whole thing. She’ll be gone until next week, so there’s no real work getting done, for now. Just blood draws.

She’s showing them its claws she took off. I don’t know why. Honestly, I have such a bad feeling about this, but I needed the cash and nowhere else was hiring for a job that would give me room and board and still time to work on my own research. Not that I’ve done a bit of THAT in a week.

I get too distracted by the mer.

He swims in circles. He stares at nothing, or pokes the plastic coral and ferns we got him, or hides in his cave. I can switch the screens over to watch the camera feed from inside the cave, but he doesn’t do much in there, either. I caught him picking at his scales, and I need to ask Dr. L about that. She took three scales off his tail, which for the record I had nothing to do with (whose record? I’m writing this to myself, and what the fuck does it matter about scales when I’m the one sticking the damn needle in his elbow twice a week), and I caught him sort of whistling sadly and picking at the empty spaces. 

They’ll grow back, Dr. L says. She’s not worried.

I am.

A little.

I’m starting to think Dr. L is lying about a lot of things, and I’m not sure what to do about that. If anything. This is a job, and I get paid better than I’ve ever been paid in my life. So… what do I do?

I could call the hotline and report him. It’s anonymous. 

She’d know I did it.

I don’t know why, but… I don’t want her to know it was me. Cowardice, I guess. Pure bloody cowardice.

But Miah hasn’t emailed the hotline, either. We can’t both be cowards, right?

Anyway.

Tonight was tank cleaning, which is a bloody fucking chore. Anders was around long enough to help me get the mer tranq’d and into the lift and then the rolling tank where he can just sit until I get my work done. Poor thing just lolls around when he’s tranq’d up. Barely blinks. 

Doesn’t stop its fucking crying, though.

We took a lot of blood from him today, too, so he was very weak. Barely moved, just curled himself up small so he was totally in the water and watched me work after Anders left. We’ve got a scrubber machine that does the hard work, I just have to hose some things down and then make sure its filter is still operating correctly. Watch the scrubber. Whole process takes about three hours from start to tank totally refilled, as long as I do it weekly. It’ll take much longer if I let it slide.

Double-checked the camera in the cave, and when I walked out of it I saw the mer’s head was up, watching everything I was doing. He dropped right back down under the water when he saw me looking at him. The muzzle looks so monstrous on him, but more than that, it makes him look like a monster.

Maybe Dr. L doesn’t muzzle him to keep us safe, but to keep me from seeing his expressions while I’m here with him all day.

No, that’s stupid. She doesn’t even think he’s sentient, right?

I finished up, and when I came to roll him back to the lift, I saw he’d popped his head up out of the rolling tank and was looking around the room itself. He hasn’t really looked around at all before this, and he was still tranq’d but maybe I fucked up the dosage? Because he was pretty alert, kind of whistling to himself and giving little chirps and clicks. He sounds like some weird mix of killer whale and fucking otters or something. When he saw me, he flinched back down under the water, but I had this idea.

Dr. L took his claws, and he’s still muzzled except when he’s on the table or when he eats, so like, it’s not like he can hurt me, right?

His eyes had gone to my desk, looking at… I guess all my books and papers and my laptop and everything. Maybe the candle. I waved my hand around until I saw that he was watching me again. With those big eyes it’s hard to tell exactly what he’s looking at, but when I clapped my hands he blinked at me, so I know he can hear it, can see me.

Then - and I swear I’m not lying - he moved himself up out of the water, and put his palms together. His earfins twitched out and back against his scalp, and his white hair dripped water all down his shoulders. 

He cocked his head at me. Then he put his hands together, harder this time. He clapped, and then… he clicked.

I KNEW it. I KNEW clicks were questions. Dr. L said their brains don’t work that way, but I bet they do. Who’s even considered how their brains work? Maybe they’re just like us. All the studying I’ve been doing shows that the scans we’ve done of dead ones are pretty similar in overall size and placement of their center of language. They’ve shown that mer populations have their own dialects if they don’t interact with each other, like the Atlantic transients sound totally different than the Pacific transients, which sound different than the residents that stick close to the coastlines up by Alaska...

Making my own head hurt. I don’t even care about fucking mammals, but I guess I do now. 

“That’s right,” I said when he clapped, not like he can understand but still. I said it, and I clapped again, and he clapped back. “Can you give me your head? I’ll take your muzzle off, yeah? If you don’t bite.”

Dumbest fucking idea ever, but hey. 

I think maybe he knows the word muzzle, because he whistled and shrunk down again, lowering his hands. His ear flaps flattened again. I saw the deep red marks around his neck, from how we have to use the catch-pole to get him out, and I just. I just felt like shit, you know?

I’m shit, that’s what I am, we’re torturing a child, more or less, who hasn’t done a thing to anyone but be by himself because he lost his bloody fucking family. I can’t keep telling myself I’m not the bad guy, you know? 

I’m going to jail if I report him, aren’t I? I helped bring him in, after all. There’s my whole career down the drain.

Is this how it felt when everyone was being shit to monkeys in the 70′s and calling it psychology? Did some of them just go along with it because they thought they had to?

This is not helpful, Bahram.

I sat down at my desk and tried to figure it out. His eyes were on me the whole time. I looked over at Miah’s candle, and looked at the label. Like I said, ocean scene. Fronds and ferns and…

I turned the label to face the mer, and tapped on the image with my finger. “Fish,” I said, feeling dumb as hell. I told myself, it’s a bloody animal, Dr. L would roll around laughing at you for this.

But he came back up out of the water. There was a long moment, and I heard him click, and then a soft, “Sssshhhhhh,” sound came from behind his muzzle. They have lips like ours, although their way of communicating is basically whalesong and relies heavily on underwater acoustics. He’s louder in the tank than out of it, although I guess fear might make him quiet, too.

The recordings I found on youtube they get in the ocean are deafening loud. Their voices travel so well underwater, it’s amazing. People sell fucking CDs with mersong over piano to fall asleep to. 

I poked at the ocean scene on the label again. “Fish,” I said firmly. “Do you want fish?”

He knows fish. 

I KNOW he knows fish because he sat up, held out his right arm, and tapped his elbow with a blunt-edged, broken-off claw before he looked back at me, trembling with fear. He clicked again, twice.

I can’t even tell you how shit I feel, realizing he was asking if I was going to take his blood first. That’s what he meant, it has to be. He poked at the exact spot where he’s bruised up from the needle. 

But it makes sense, right? 

He’s been here twenty days, more or less. Every couple of days, when he’s hungry enough, we bribe him with fish to get the pole on him, take blood or whatever else, and then he eats. 

No, WE don’t take his blood. I take his blood.

He thinks - and he’s fucking thinking, I know he is - that he only eats if we stick a needle in him.

I’m hurting a child.

I’m teaching a child to be hurt.

I’m not religious but this feels like the sort of thing you ask for forgiveness for, doesn’t it? I should call Maman and ask her who I could talk to. I’m going to call Maman or Baba tomorrow.

No I’m not.

What would I tell them I need to speak to someone about?

What if whoever I speak to calls and reports him, and Dr. L knows it was because of me?

I need to stop thinking about this. 

“No, NOT draw blood,” I said, and he whimpered again, held out his arm further, closer to me, tapped his elbow again. I knew he could still hurt me - their strength is prodigious, the first time we got him out of the tank he nearly pulled Dr. L down into the water with him - but I decided it was worth the risk. 

I kept thinking, he’s more scared of me than I am of him, but you know, of course he is. He’s the one with bruises.

I stretched my own arm out and showed it to him. He flinched back a little, and then leaned forward again, sitting in the little rolling tank that’s barely big enough to hold him. His blunt claws touched my arm, delicate as a feather, clicking as he poked at the sleeve of my sweater. 

“No draw blood,” I said. “Just fish. Eat.” I mimed chewing.

He looked at me and clicked twice, cocking his head, then looked at my candle from Miah, pointing at the ocean scene. “Ffff-sshhhh,” he said, muffled. 

“No, that’s a candle, it just has fish painted on it. Candle. Fire. Yes?”

Blank stare. 

Then, repeated, “Ffff-sssshhh.”

I sighed and pulled out my little lighter. I don’t smoke or anything, but I hate the way matches smell, so I have a lighter on me basically all the time. Plus, having lighters was a pretty good way to make friends back in undergrad when I gave a fuck about that. 

I flicked on the lighter, and the mer chirped, curiously. 

Has it never seen fire before?

Why would it, it lives in the ocean. Don’t be a dumbshit, Bahram.

“Fire,” I said, and held it out a little for a closer look. “Fire.” I tilted it and lit the candle, and the mer leaned forward, rapt, as the wick sparked up to flame and I blew the smaller flame on the lighter out. 

“FFfffff,” The mer said, barely audible. It clicked and held out its hand, and I wasn’t fast enough.

“No, wait stop-”

The mer’s fingertips touched the flame and it let out a deafening loud cry of pain and jerked its hand back down into the water, whimpering at the new kind of hurt, looking at me like it was MY fault, and maybe it was. Eyebrows furrowed, little crease in its forehead, big sad eyes. 

The big sad eyes are wrecking me.

“Well, don’t touch fire and you won’t burn,” I said, shaking my head. “No touch fire. Fire bad. Fire burn.”

He held out his hand to show me. “Ffff-rrrrr.” It was a plaintive little breath of air, not quite a real sound. 

The ends of two fingers were a little dark, that’s all. I could explain that by saying he’d hurt himself in the tank, maybe. I shook my head and pointed at the water, and it put its hand back in there, huffing a little breath of relief, I think. The water probably helped with the sting. 

“Right. Fire bad. No fire.”

“Ffff-rrr... buh-ddd.” 

“Right. Fire bad.” I stood up and walked over behind him, and he tried to turn and watch me but I shook my head and pointed back at the candle and he sort of huffed again and looked away. I felt him tense when my fingers touched the back of his head, but he sat still.

Probably because if he struggles when she goes to take the muzzle off or gets her fingers near his mouth, Dr. L has this electricity stick thing… 

I’m not supposed to mention that in the transcripts.

I’m not supposed to mention how he screams, and he doesn’t sound like a whale or an otter, then. He doesn’t sound like an animal.

He sounds like a child.

He IS a child

He’s just

I’m a fucking

No. I need to focus. This is stuff I can’t tell Dr. L, I need to write it down here where it’s safe.

The muzzle is easy to get off, you just need to be looking right at it, and I unbuckled and pulled it free, feeling a little resistance from how well it stuck to his face. Without it on, there are deep red lines along his cheeks and jaw, not open or bleeding, just irritated. 

He didn't grab at me, or bite. Just watched me with his big eyes as I laid it down on my desk. For a second we were both just quiet, looking at each other. 

Then he pointed at the candle again. “Ffff-sssshh.”

“No,” I said. “Candle. Fire.”

The mer’s eyebrows furrowed and he shook his head, echoing what I did earlier. His hair slapped around. His teeth look like shark’s teeth up close, only there’s a lot less of them. “Nnnn-nnnuh,” He tried, shaking his head again.” Nnn-uh. Ffff-sssshhh.” Then he pointed at his mouth, opening wide, showing me the tongue behind his teeth. “Fffff-sssshhh. Ffff-ssshhh.”

I laughed, covering my mouth - he seems to be scared when we show too much teeth, probably in the ocean it’s a threat and they don’t smile like we do. Which, why would they? 

But, see, I realized that he wasn’t pointing at the candle at all, but at the fish painted on it. Then he moved to look at the bucket of fish he gets as a reward for obedience, and pointed at that, then looked back at me to see if I was paying attention.

Of course I was. I was barely fucking breathing. This is signs of abstract thought process, recognizing that the image of a thing isn’t the thing itself. That he can point at it to represent what he wants. “You want fish? Is that it? You’re hungry? Want to eat some fish?”

The mer blinked and made a sound like a chirp, clapped his hands together. “Rrrrr. Fff-sssshhh.” He pointed at his mouth again. “Ffff-ssshhh. Buh-rrrrmm. Ffffsshh.”

“What did you say?” I whispered. My heart went cold. I can’t describe it any other way.

“Buh-rrrrmmmm. Ffff-sssshh, Buh-rrrmm.”

The bloody thing knows my fucking name. 

He knows we have names and he knows mine and that means-... that means he has one, doesn’t it? If he has a name, if he has

I’m his fucking nightmare aren’t I 

I’m the worst fucking thing that could happen to him, me and Miah and Dr. L and Anders and this is a job but it’s the worst thing that’s happened to him and it’s only

It’s going to get worse for him.

He’s going to die here and he’ll know all our names when he does.

Anyway, so... you know... I brought him a bucket of fish.

What else was I supposed to do? 

He knows my name!

He let me put the muzzle on him again without fighting after he finished, and I got him back in the tank once the water was refreshed, and he’s sleeping off his meal now. I can see him on the feed, curled up inside the cave.

But I’m wide awake, so I thought I’d write this, because…

Because what the hell do I do now?

I can’t tell Miah.

Can I?

 ---

@astrobly @burtlederp @finder-of-rings @slaintetowhump @moose-teeth @misspelledwitch @whumpfigure @whumptywhumpdump @boxboysandotherwhump @whumpywhumper

[goddessofmischief]

Blue Monday, Part 2 - Loki x T.V.A! Reader

Episode Two - “Advanced Time Travel Theory”

Read part three here!

Your life was so different now.

It had been almost forty years since you had enrolled in the T.V.A..

Of course, it didn’t matter now. You were young when you’d enrolled, and due to their life-sustaining magic, you hadn’t managed to age a day since. You cursed this, sometimes. You envied people who looked their ages.

To be fair, you envied most people - people who looked their ages, people with lives. People with families.

You could barely remembers yours, now. You decided it might be a good thing.

Now your life was new and exciting, just the way you had always wanted it to be. You could remember your last day as a human, you never could’ve imagined any of this then.

Of course... that last day... had been a darker day than most.

And now, you had a partner. He was ill-tempered, sure. Quite honestly, he terrified you. You knew all about Loki, the things he had done, the things he would do, or was capable of doing. But somehow, none of those things mattered.

You had a partner. And partner meant friend. You didn’t care what he’d do. You just wanted him to stick around.

Somewhere, deep inside, the human part just wanted someone to talk to.

“So, you’re the one I’ll be working with.” You almost jumped, until you realized Loki was leaning leisurely behind you.

“Y-yes,” you stuttered. You weren’t like this, normally - really! You hadn't managed to become the most quickly-promoted T.V.A. agent in almost a billion years without experience in keeping your cool.

Even around Gods of Mischief.

Especially around Gods of Mischief.

“Are those... knives?”

“Yes.”

You looked him over for yourself. He’d gotten a chance of freshen up since the first time you had met, and instead of prisoners’ clothes, he now wore a dress shirt, tie, and T.V.A. bomber jacket. You gestured at him, vaguely.

“It’s... a bit much.” “Isn’t it? It’s not quite... what I usually wear.”

“...Oh. Yeah, I know. You looked like a dominatrix. ..Are you a dominatrix?”

He looked almost ashamed.

“Close, but no, not officially. I’m the God of Mischief, darling.” “Oh, I knew that. I just thought, y’know... maybe, you had a side thing.”

He chuckled.

“Do you remember me?”

Your eyebrows shot up. “Remember you?”

“We met. When you were... like me.”

You swallowed.

“...I don’t understand.” Loki picked up a small object off your desk, turning it in his hand.

“Don’t you? Don’t you remember? Much of my own past is blurry, too - a thousand years can really drag on, things do blur together. But... I remember you. Clearly. We were friends, I-I took care of you.”

“You misremember, then. I’m a mortal. From Earth. From California, more specifically.” “Yes, well,” said Loki, disagreeably, “What year were you last on Earth?” “...The 1970s. I think. Then I was brought here.” “You may think so, but you have no past on Earth. I’m sure of that.”

He leaned in, closely, to you.

“And I, love, am going to prove it.”

This ‘friend’ thing was going to be a little harder than it looked.

...

You couldn’t believe that Mobius insisted on you mentoring him. Well, in a way, you could. You were meant to be partners, after all.

But the fact that Loki seemed to think you were his reincarnated best friend wasn’t making the process any easier.

“So,” he said, leaning over to you, the T.V.A.’s flickering projector screening a trainee video, “You don’t remember any of it?”

“No. I can’t remember something that never happened, Loki.”

He sighed.

“If I’m a God,” you said, patiently, “Then how did I end up here?”

“That, darling, is something I’m striving to find out.” You groaned, leaning over him and switching the projector to a new video, letters flashing on the screen:

This Was Your Life!

"What’s this one?”

You shrug, settling in.

“Mobius makes us watch it in orientation. He wants to remind us who we are. The reel scans your mind, accesses your memories. All the important things. You watch it, once, and then you sort of... let go of them, over time. That’s what it’s like to be in the T.V.A.”

Loki’s reel began, and you started to see flashes of memory - his mother, his father. His brother. Memories of childhood - of horses, and etiquette lessons, and magic.

Then the pain started. The rivalries. The suffering.

And there’s a big blurry spot there, too, memories in his teen years that even the Projector could not find. Like he’s been tampered with, in some way.

Then, adulthood. Trying and failing to secure a throne he thought he’d deserved. Meeting Thanos.

Losing (miserably, you might add) to the Avengers.

And now, you. For some reason, the memory of his meeting you stands out the brightest.

And then, as suddenly as it began, it ended.

“Well,” said Loki, briskly. “That was dismal.” “I thought it was sweet, personally.” “Hm. Let’s see yours now.” He reaches for the projector, as if to turn it to you, but you smack his hand. “Um, no,” you said, finally. “No, it’s not... protocol. We only get to see the Reel once. Then... we’re meant to forget.” “And I’m never meant to know?” “No.”

He sighs, leaning back in his chair, thoughts spinning through his mind. His loss on Earth hurt more now than it ever had. Seeing it again only reopened the wound.

But now...

Now, he had access to all of time. It was at his command - all he had to do was trick you, in some way - and that wouldn’t be hard to do. You were clever, but stupid. You wanted to trust him. Almost no-one ever did.

That... that, he decided, would be your undoing.

But what could he do? If he went up against them again, he’d only lose, again. No, he needed to turn the tide, break the status quo. He needed an ally, a partner, a friend-

A partner.

Someone very much like you.

Yes, this was a good plan, he thought. He’d make you remember, no matter how long it took, no matter how many missions you had to go on. He would remind you who you were, that you were a god, an immortal.

And when he had, and unlocked your powers... he’d take you back with him. Make things the way they should be.

Loki glanced over at you, and, innocent to his schemes, you looked back.

It’d be all too easy.

Taglist: gorgeourrific-nerd @suwupremeleader​ @sserpente @tripleyeeet 

[lupinlongbottom]

Shortie

Fred Weasley x Short!Reader

Summary: (Y/N) is short. Plain and simple. While she admits this to herself, she hates, more than anything, than the nickname a certain redhead has tagged her with.

Prompt: Can I request a Fred Weasley x Reader with a short reader? And Fred thinks she’s adorable and flirts with her all the time? - Anon

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: none

A/N: Yeah. I love Fred Weasley. I bet you do too, hm? Yeah you do!! Welcome to the club  we meet on every other Thursday

__

(Y/N) (L/N) loathed being called short. She was short, to their point, but it was always an awfully un-clever observation. No one ever thought to call her ‘bright’ or ‘pretty’, it was always ‘short’ or—

“Hey, shortie!” 

(Y/N) turned around, her books held tightly to her chest. It didn’t take a genius to know who’s voice it could’ve been, but she looked anyway, scowling.

“What do you want, Weasley?” She continued her previous steps, the flats of her feet slapping against the marble rhythmically.  

“Woah,” Fred said, holding his hands up, running to her side. “Such hostility, coming from such a small thing…”

(Y/N) pulled the books tighter into her chest, the covers reaching her chin. “What do you want?” She repeated, ignoring the redhead who was now matching her rather brisk pace.

“What? Can’t a guy try and flirt with the cutest little thing at school?” Fred said teasingly. (Y/N) could hardly tell if he was joking or not, a common theme from the Weasley brothers.

“Calling someone ‘shortie’ isn’t considered flirting,” (Y/N) huffed, feeling her fingers curl around the spines of her books, the tips tracing the musty covers. “Hardly would get you any points from anyone.”

“You see,” Fred clicked, pointing a finger. “I said ‘try’, didn’t say it was working,” he glanced up and down the girl quickly, grinning, “though, you’re talking to me, so something must’ve worked.”

“Do that with all the girls, do you? Flirt constantly to see if something sticks?” (Y/N) said, almost breaking a smile. A small tug at her lips peeked through the cracks, one that Fred noticed instantly, a warmth spreading quickly to his cheeks.

“No,” Fred said, shaking his head. “Just with you.”

“Right,” (Y/N) said, laughing genuinely. “Sure, Weasley,” she turned the corner, reaching her destination, her next class. “If you don’t mind, I actually have somewhere to be right now, so—”

“Funny,” Fred laughed, opening the classroom door. “Me too. Forgot we had Charms together, huh?”

She didn’t.

“Easy to forget,” (Y/N) said, pushing past Fred, hoping to reach her seat before Flitwick had their heads. “I focus entirely on the lecture, unlike somebody I know.”

“Hard to focus when the prettiest girl in school sits across the way from me,” Fred said, eyeing (Y/N) down.

“Oh sure,” (Y/N) scoffed, rolling her eyes, trying to ignore the creeping heat flowing across her face. “That’s your problem.”

“Though, it’s hard to see you behind your stack of books. I reckon you could use one of them to boost yourself up, it’d be easier to spot you—”

(Y/N) smacked his arm, hard, before fleeing to her assigned seat. She held back a scoff, not letting Fred get the better of her and her reactions. Pulling the various textbooks from her bag, (Y/N) scooted them slightly more to the left for no reason in particular.

__

Studying was a chore, something that (Y/N) loathed to do, but understood it’s importance in her academic life and future. As far as libraries go, the one at Hogwarts wasn’t the worst one she’d been in. Surely the temptation of practically anything and everything one would or could possibly know about the magical community and world around them was just at their fingertips, pages away from their young minds. However, instead of the fun material she could be reading, she was stuck scribbling lines from a textbook about various charms she’d never need to use.

“Honestly, making legs grow on teacups? How absurd…” (Y/N) mumbled to herself, scribbling the incantation down in a bolder ink, underlining it lightly.

“Reckon you could try it on yourself,” A voice said, pulling up into the chair next to her. “Maybe you’ll grow a bit, hm?” 

“Weasley,” (Y/N) clicked, setting her quill down harshly. “I’m trying to study, can’t you go bother some other poor soul? Throw a dungbomb around or whatever you and your brother get up to?”

“Nah, we ran out of dungbombs a bit back,” Fred said, picking at his fingernails, examining them closely. “We planted some frog spawn soap in the bathroom near here, but that’s going to take a while to kick in,” He glanced at the roll of parchment beneath (Y/N)’s hand, covering her writing. “What? Don’t want me to cheat off of you?”  

“Exactly,” (Y/N) hummed, placing another hand atop her words. “You haven’t done the assignment yet, so I’m not going to let you read mine.”

“Smart,” Fred said, nodding his head. “Really smart.”

“Thank you?” (Y/N) said, almost unsure. 

“Tell me, shortie,” Fred said, leaning in. “While you’re here hiding your work, do you need me to grab any books off the top shelf? I have long arms, you know…”

“Nope,” (Y/N) said warmly, her voice sickeningly sweet. “I’ve got all I need, thanks.”

“You sure?” He asked again, cracking his signature grin, his eyebrow pointed. “You sure you don’t need Charmingly Charming Charms by Gretchen Hopstock?” He pulled a red book from behind his back. “I know that Georgie and I needed to look at it when we were finishing our assignment…”

“You did the assignment? You’re bluffing!” (Y/N) said, bewildered and confused at the recent discovery. “There’s no way!”

“Yeah,” Fred laughed. “No way you’re reaching that book without my help,” he laughed again, the voice as smooth as honey, “it belongs on the sixth shelf, second case in. Seeing as you can barely reach the fifth shelf without your tiptoes—”

“Have you been watching me?”

“Hard not to,” Fred said, grinning. “It’s rather cute, watching you struggle just a bit. Of course, just say the word and I’ll leave the book here instead of putting it back.”

“I’m good,” (Y/N) said, shooting back an equally large grin, hoping the mockery would hit him in the face and let him leave. “But thanks!” 

Fred shrugged, turning quickly on his heels. He took five steps into the bookcase, eyes quickly scanning across the various covers, hoping to find the empty spot he had pulled the book from previously. With extra care, he slid the book back into its home, turning back to grin at (Y/N).

“I didn’t need it, anyway.”

“We’ll see, shortie,” Fred said, shoving his hands back into his pockets. “Though, tell me,” Fred said, pointing to (Y/N)’s hands, still covering her parchment. “You’ve let that ink dry before smacking your hand on your writing, right?”

(Y/N) froze.

“Nah,” Fred laughed, waving his hand. “I’m sure it’s fine, you’re a bright witch, there’s no way that you would’ve done that,” he laughed again, turning back to his table of friends, neatly settled on the other side of the library. “No way.”

(Y/N) waited a few beats before prying her fingers off the paper, sure enough, the ink wasn’t done drying when she placed her skin atop of it. A puddling of what could’ve been words flowed along her skin, thankfully her parchment was still somewhat legible. She hesitated for a moment, debating on packing up her things and leaving entirely, or excusing herself for a moment to wash her hands. She chose the latter. 

“Stupid Fred, stupid ‘shortie’, stupid book…” (Y/N) mumbled to herself, entering the girls lavatory quickly. The sooner she cleaned her stained hands, the sooner she could finish her assignment and the sooner she could ignore Fred Weasley. (Y/N) turned on the tap, allowing the hot water to cover her hands, a good majority of the black ink flowing directly into the water. 

“Honestly,” (Y/N) said, grabbing the bar of soap, scrubbing vigorously. “What is wrong with me? He’s just some stupid boy…” She glanced up at her reflection, the pink in her cheeks practically glowing. “A stupid boy with a stupid smile…” Her face softened, recalling the way he grinned at her, a face he only seemed to direct at her and her alone, she had noticed. She never stared too long, honest, but she wasn’t dumb. Maybe he did truly like her. Maybe she liked him. Maybe.

The moment, however, ended quickly, as (Y/N) felt the soap beneath her move slightly. She looked down, only to find tadpoles swimming in sink and wriggling between her fingers.

Her scream rang throughout the castle.

__

The orange autumn day basked over the courtyard, the gaggles of cliques and friends finally were returning from Hogsmeade that fateful Saturday. (Y/N) had spent more than she’d like to admit at Honeydukes, her friends egging her to buy ‘just one more’ chocolate frog. Though, to their point, having a few extras around wouldn’t have been the worst idea.

(Y/N) settled herself down next to the fountain, allowing herself to get her recommended fifteen minutes of solitude she desperately needed. The burbling of the water and the idle chatter of students around her was calming, a white noise to her loud thoughts.

“Shortie!” Fred called from across the courtyard, leaving George behind. The other twin looked almost shocked, but only for a moment, his gaze falling upon the girl at the base of the fountain. He shrugged and waltzed away, knowing very well that Fred would catch up later.

“Fred,” (Y/N) said, not opening her eyes. She continued to take in deep breaths, focusing harder on the fountain behind her. “What is it?”

“Woah,” Fred said, almost taken aback. “Not ‘Weasley’? We’re on a first-name basis now?” 

“Could you try and be quiet?” (Y/N) said, taking in another deep breath. “I’m trying to enjoy a few moments of silence,” she opened an eye, glancing at Fred, “I know how hard silence is for you.”

“Please,” Fred scoffed, falling down next to (Y/N), hands folded in his lap. “I can be silent.”

“Prove it,” (Y/N) said, closing her eyes again, taking a deep breath.

“Fine,” Fred said, staring straight ahead, trying to prove his point. The sounds of the fountain were calming, he noticed. Frankly, he wanted to make fun of the spot (Y/N) had chosen, but after thinking about it for a few moments, he understood.

Fred couldn’t help but glance over to the girl on his right, noting how even seated next to one another, their height difference rang true. He never sat next to her, not this close, she never gave him the chance. His eyes floated over to the bag at her side, a Honeydukes one, to be exact. Without a second thought, as silently as he could, he pulled the bag onto his lap. Thankfully, (Y/N) hadn’t heard. Fingering through the bag, he noted the various chocolate frogs, a box of fudge flies and a package of jelly slugs. All favorites of hers.

“Of course…” Fred laughed quietly, examining the bag a little deeper. A smaller bag reached his grasp, the packaging seeming familiar. He had seen these bags plenty of times before, in fact, George had been carrying one on their way back from Hogsmeade.

“What’re you doing?” (Y/N) said, careful not to shout, to draw more attention to herself. She noticed the bag in Fred’s lap after he had stayed quiet for a bit too long, a feat she clearly thought was a prank. She reached forward. “Gimme that!”

“Nope,” Fred said, standing up quickly, bag still in his grasp. “Why do you have a Zonko’s bag in here? I don’t think they have any products that’ll help you grow—”

“Will you quit it!?” (Y/N) finally shouted, rising to her feet. Fred froze, just for a moment. “Honestly! It’s all ‘shortie’ this and ‘shortie’ that! Could you cut it out for just—cut it out for a moment?!”

“(Y/N), I—”

“Yeah?” (Y/N) spat, ripping the bag from Fred’s grip, clutching it close to her side. “Gonna ask me to speak up because I’m so far away from you? You, all the way up there and me, so terribly close to the ground, might as well be dirt—”

“(Y/N) I’m sorry,” Fred said, almost sternly. Whatever grin he had on his face earlier surely dissipated. “I didn’t think that, that nickname bothered you so much, had you told me I would’ve—”

“Would’ve stopped? Yeah right. Biggest prankster in the whole school stopping something because someone asked nicely?”

“I would’ve stopped because you asked me,” Fred said, making his word choice clear. “Honest.”

“I don’t believe it,” (Y/N) said.

“Why do you think I call you shortie to begin with? Has it ever crossed your mind that I could’ve chosen anything else in the English—or perhaps French—language to call you?” Fred asked, not expecting a reply. “I mean, yeah, obviously you’re short—”

“You call people loads of other things, why not one of those?”

“What? Do you mean prat or git?” Fred laughed. “I could never think about calling you that, are you being serious?”

“What’s so hard to believe? You call everyone else things like that!” 

“Yeah? Well I don’t fancy everyone else, do I?”

“Fancy?” (Y/N) said, fighting back a laugh. “That’s how you treat someone you fancy? It’s so elementary, Fred. Would you like to pull on my hair to really drive your message home?”

“Oh shut it,” Fred said, his voice low, cheeks growing red. “I’m not good at things like this… affection, flirting…”

“You? Not good at flirting?” (Y/N) said, letting herself laugh. “Now that’s funny.”

“How so?”

“Please, half of the words that come out of your mouth make me want to crawl as far as I can in my jumper, hide from the embarrassment,” (Y/N) admitted, feeling a bit honest. “From what I’ve heard from the other girls in our year, you seem to have that effect on women.”

“Really?” Fred smiled. “I make you all flustered?”

“Y-you make other girls flustered, too!” (Y/N) said rather quickly. “Don’t go and twist my words.”

“Ah,” Fred clicked, rocking on his feet. “But you admit it, I make you flustered.”

“P-perhaps,” (Y/N) said, the back of her neck growing hot to the touch, the heat rising to her ears. “Perhaps a bit, yes.”

“Then, that’s all that matters, hm?” Fred said, smiling.

“What? Do you get some sort of pleasure of getting me flustered?” (Y/N) said, trying to keep a straight face.

“Of course I do,” Fred laughed. “Doesn’t every guy want to see the girl they like get all hot and bothered, especially by their own words and smirks?”

“I suppose,” (Y/N) said, nodding. “But, why me? Of call the girls you could possibly fancy, I’m the one you’ve gone after?”

“You challenge me, (Y/N),” Fred shrugged. “I like the chase, what can I say?” He let out another laugh, the sound ringing throughout the courtyard. “Besides, you’re rather pretty and have got the cutest laugh—little snorts and all—”

“I do not snort!” (Y/N) exclaimed. “I just—my laugh isn’t—I don’t… snort…”

“Awh,” Fred took a step closer, placing his hand hesitantly on (Y/N)’s shoulder. “S’all right, (Y/N), I think it’s cute. I think you’re cute.”

“Shut it…” (Y/N) said, looking away. After all that talk of getting flustered around Fred, why was her own body betraying her so poorly? Surely Fred could see the pink in her cheeks, there was no point in trying to hide it. “I think you’re cute too…” she mumbled, the words barely passing her lips.

“What was that? I didn’t quite catch that?” Fred said, grinning.

“I said I think you’re cute too,” (Y/N) repeated, her voice louder. “There, happy?”

“Elated,” Fred said, his smile growing softer. “Since you think I’m terribly attractive—”

“That’s not what I said—”

“And since I think you’re terribly adorable, what do you say to us going on a date? Say… next weekend, Hogsmeade? You, me, a couple of butterbeers against the world?”

“I’d like that,” (Y/N) said. “I’d like that quite a bit, actually.”

“Wicked,” Fred said, removing his hand from (Y/N)’s shoulder, knowing if he didn’t, he’d probably do something stupid, something she’d slap him silly for even trying. “Now that we’re on the same page, tell me (Y/N)…” he slanted his eyes, “what did you purchase from Zonko’s? Doesn’t seem like your type of store.”

“I…” (Y/N) chose her words carefully, feeling the bag at her side grow almost heavy. “I bought some hiccoughing sweets… to… give to you…”

“You… were going to try and prank me?” Fred said, his finger pointed at his chest. “A woman after my own heart! Oh, (Y/N), you don’t know how attractive that is.”

“I didn’t buy them to seduce you, Weasley,” (Y/N) laughed. “I bought them for… revenge purposes only.”

“Revenge? For the shortie thing? That seems a bit much,” Fred said, crossing his arms. “Don’t you think?”

“Oh no,” (Y/N) said, waving her hand. “The shortie thing doesn’t bother me nearly that bad,” Fred gave her a look, “what? Can’t a girl apologize? Regardless, it wasn’t because of that.”

“Alright, shortie,” Fred said, using the nickname again, dipping a toe in the water. (Y/N) smiled, just a bit. “Then what could you possibly need to get revenge for?”

“Frog spawn soap, women’s lavatory near the library.”

“Holy shit,” Fred said, suppressing a laugh. “That was you? Your scream was so hilarious!”

“I went to go wash the ink off my hands and—”

“So you did get ink on your hands,” Fred said, leaning closer. “I knew it.”

“Your soap,” (Y/N) said, ignoring Fred’s teasing. “Probably will give me nightmares about hand washing for the rest of my life… I figured a few prank-sweets would compensate it fairly.”

“Well played,” Fred said, nodding. “It’s a good plan, though I’d re-think it now that I know all about your devious little scheme, wouldn’t you agree? Try something that’ll really grind my gears, hm?”

“Grind your gears?”

“Yeah, the key to a good revenge, or revenge prank is the one that while the other isn’t expecting, also annoys—”

Without a second thought, (Y/N) leaned upwards, reaching as far as her toes could get her. She grabbed Fred’s face, placing a soft peck to the space near his lips, dangerously close, but not quite touching. She fell back onto the flats of her feet, grinning widely at the now-speechless Weasley in front of her.

“One that the other isn’t expecting? I’ll have to remember that,” (Y/N) said, taking a few steps away from Fred, ready to leave the courtyard. “What? Kneazle have your tongue?”

“I just…” Fred sputtered, trying to find the words. Of all the things he had expected from (Y/N), teasing him to that caliber was not at the top of his list. “I just, didn’t expect you to reach that high,” he forced a laugh, trying to cover up his embarrassment, “shortie.”

(Y/N) smiled softly at the boy, turning her heels to leave. The sound of Fred’s soft laughter met her ears, him surely doing a little jig, something she knew she would see if she turned around, but (Y/N) let him have his moment. Turns out, she didn’t hate that nickname after all. More specifically, she didn’t hate the boy it came from, not one bit.

__

General Tag List: @maralisa124 / @leighxlover / @hey-its-me-rai / @missihart23 / @biatheintrovert / @luna-xxxxx / @chocolaterumble / @why-am-i-sad-and-sleepy / @steve-thotgers / @greeneyedthief / @kitkatkl / @thelightsideoflife / @thataudreydork / @badgirlsdeaddreams

Fred Weasley Tag List: @carolinesbookworld / @flyawayjulianna

if your name is crossed out, i could not tag you for whatever reason, feel free to reach out to me if that’s the case. if you would like to be removed from a tag list, send me a message!

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[mrvdocks]

Plus One Finale

Summary: You and Steve make up. Steve plans for the future ahead.

A/N: We finally made it to the end, thanks to everyone who read it and liked it and reblogged it. :))

@mochminnie​, @80strashbag​, @artsymaddie​, @har-rison-s​, @theblueslytherin​, @prettysbliss​, @deliberatequeen​, @fl0ating​, @crystalyn-aurelia​, @itsbabybat​, @bellasymph​, @hawishima​, @hvtelcalifornia​, @stevexharringtonx​, @fisherbrookphotos​, @revangeline​

He paced back and forth in the hallway of the animal clinic, somehow both muttering to himself and racking his head for some way to reply other than the incredulous reaction he just gave you.

You squeezed your eyes shut and shook your head. You knew it, you knew it was too soon to say. 

You cross your legs in an attempt to stop the distracting bouncing of your leg and ease your nerves. 

Sure he just confessed he loved you and apologized, but now that you could possibly be pregnant? What if that was the dealbreaker?

“Steve.” You call, attempting to break him from his trance.

He mutters more, going much too fast for you to understand. 

“Steve!” You exclaim, unable to take the suspense.

He stops and turns to face you, visibly shaken. You exhale shakily, trying to keep yourself steady emotionally.

“Listen, if what you said earlier is true, then this is nothing.”

“This is nothing? (Y/N) we’re bringing someone else into our messed up lives. What if we’re terrible parents?”

You stand and take his worrisome hand in yours, “So we don’t have the best model. That’s fine! They’re not the ones raising this kid, it’s us. It’s you and me.” 

He bites his lip in thought, eyes falling to his feet. You felt your heart race as you tried to decipher his emotions. You loved Steve, kid or no kid. But this was something you two needed to face. 

“I don’t know. I - ” he shrugs. 

You try not to remember the last time he shrugged and what followed. 

“You and I don’t need to make a decision so quickly. We can sleep on it. Alright?” You try to be comforting, smoothing out the lines on his disheveled shirt.

He seems to relax at this and nods. You nod in conclusion.

“I’ll be back.” He says, letting go of your hands and walking down the dimly lit corridor. 

“Where are you going?” 

He won’t leave you, right? 

“I have to do something. I’ll see you back home.” 

He leaves in a rush. It hit you then. Home. You were dreading returning to the apartment all this time because you were afraid of the confrontation. 

You had planned on coming back sure, maybe yell at him or take Mickey as you’d promised, but the thought of having to confront his issues and your own made your stomach do somersaults. And not in the good way. 

But it seemed to turn out fine. You sighed. 

You and Steve barely got by as it is. Robin’s leave put more strain on both of you to come up with rent money. Neither you nor Steve were too content in your career choices, and God knows the place would get cramped with a kid. 

It was hard to be an optimist in these trying times but you tried to hold out hope. Maybe things would get better. After all, you had new friends, you’d made new connections. Who knows where that would take you. 

You wondered what your sister would say. For once, you valued her input in this. 

Honestly, the thought of the future from this point on made your heart race. 

Steve was capable of growth…..right?

Once Mickey was cleared to go home, you let out a breath of relief you didn’t realize you were holding. Things felt a lot lighter, it was a weight off of your shoulders. Though a tiny pebble by the name of Steve remained. 

You carried your dozed pet out in your arms in the early hours of the morning, choosing to walk it home and avoid another Danny encounter. 

It was a chilly week in November. The crunch of the leaves under your feet wasn’t enough to rouse Mickey awake but you kept count of how many you stepped on.

You don’t recall how long it took you to get home. It was most likely the autopilot in you flipping on, your head just too worried about other things at the moment. 

You just know you’d made it home without a scratch. You kick away the pile of mail at the foot of your doorstep and take the extra key under the mat. Once you’re inside, the warmth of the radiator kicks in, letting your body relax after the tensing up of your muscles to keep warm outside. 

You lay Mickey down in his makeshift bed, the foot tub with a mix of yours and Steve’s old shirts. He grumbles in his sleep, his tiny tongue peaking out in lazy and unconscious movement. 

You shake off Jonathan’s coat and drape it over your body like a blanket and collapse onto the couch, too lazy to curl up into your own bed. 

You shiver as you run your hands over your arms and cup your hands together to blow air into them. The tiredness from walking and overall excitement of the day weighed over you from the way you felt your eyelids start to fall. 

You blink once, twice, and then fall asleep just in time to see Mickey kick and stretch his paws in his sleep.

Steve pants as he reaches the door of the room at the hotel his father’s staying at. He’d been too hasty to berate his future stepbrothers once he saw what they’d done to Mickey. 

He knocks rapidly on the door, seeming like a madman to the couple who’s just leaving their own room and staring at him. He composes himself, zips his jacket up, and gives a faint nod as they pass him.

His dad opens the door a second later. “Hey kiddo, what’s with the commotion?”

“She’s pregnant.” Steve regurgitates your confession to his father. Don’s mouth falls open slightly. 

He closes it and stammers. He turns to check on the kids in the room, seeing them preoccupied with the tv. When the coast is clear, he closes the door behind him and stays with Steve outside in the hallway. 

“I - that was fast.” Don chuckles, feeling flustered for his son. “What did you tell her?”

“I ran here to tell you!” 

Don’s hand comes up to pinch the bridge of his nose in disappointment.

“So you’re telling me, the girl of your dreams, the one you’ve been miserable over breaking her heart, just told you she’s pregnant and the first thing you do is leave her and run to me??” 

Steve understands the gravity of the situation but he is stuck on the thought that he needed all the advice he could squeeze out of his father.

“Basically.” He says simply.

Don sighs. “What’s the problem, then?”

Steve’s shoulders slump. “I don’t know how to be a dad. In case you haven’t noticed I didn’t have the best model.”

Don nearly rolls his eyes. 

“Is that really the reason, or is there another?”

Steve stays silent, contemplating while his eyes scan every inch of the hallway from the detail on the carpeting to the colors. 

“I guess….I’m not happy with where I am right now. I’m pushing thirty in two years, I’m a bartender, everyone I know got married and I just feel like I’m out of time. But Dad, this girl. She - she’s everything I’m not. She’s spontaneous and funny and sarcastic and - I don’t know, sometimes I just feel like she could be doing so much better than me.”

Don places a hand on Steve’s shoulder and gently shakes him. “Hey, don’t say that. You’re a Harrington, you’re a catch!” 

Steve half smiles at the encouragement. 

“Steve, everyone progresses through milestones differently. No one knows what they’re doing. And if we’re being honest, I think you just have to find what you like and hold onto it. Something that makes you want to get out of bed every day and just take all of the bull that life throws at you because, at the end of the day, that something is always going to be there. Have you found something to do that for you?”

Steve nearly dissociates altogether as he falls deep in thought as his father speaks. His mind reeling the montage of memories his brain concocts like film. 

He sees you the day you walked into the apartment and into his life, covered in dirty water from being sprayed by a taxi on the curb and taking it in stride and making jokes about it. He sees you dancing in the kitchen to god awful music he’d grown to love in a big shirt and long socks. He sees the way your eyes crinkle when you laugh hysterically at the prospect of trying to help him find dates. The image of you sitting near the radiator with a book in hand and your thinking face. 

He thinks these past few months might’ve just been the best ones he’s ever had. Before he went and ruined it. 

He didn’t think he would experience something like this after Nancy. He thought he could just run away from Hawkins and leave the bad memories there, but they crept up on him when he least expected it. His fear was not your fault. 

He was done running and he was ready to grow. 

“Yeah,” he nods. “I think I do.”

The phone ringing off the hook startled you awake. You sit upright, finding Jonathan’s coat at your feet and Mickey pawing at the phone cord. He wriggles his head side to side when he finally gets the cord in between his teeth. 

“I’m coming, I’m coming.” You mutter to yourself. You pick Mickey up with swift ease and pull the cord out of his mouth to pick up the phone.

“I’m up.” You announce somewhat sleepily into the phone.

“Good! I have news!” Nancy’s rapid-fire voice comes through and alerts you awake.

“Wait! I did it, Nance! I told him!”

“Oh, what did he say?”

“He….kind of took off.”

“He what?!” 

“Okay to be fair, a lot has happened in the past,” you glance at your wrist to see you’ve been asleep for a while. “Five hours? Geez.” 

“Okay, okay. Well, we don’t have to worry about this anymore.”

“What do you mean?”

“The tests! They’re faulty! They’re recalling them for false positives or something. I don’t know but Kali just called to tell me.”

“Oh….” You trail off. 

In a way, you're very relieved. And yet also a little disappointed. But very relieved.

“What’s wrong?” Nancy senses something’s off. “I figured you’d breathe a little better if you knew the truth.”

“No I am,” you say, cradling Mickey in your arm like a mom with a baby on her hip. “I don’t know, I guess I kind of made my peace with it.”

“Oh, well hey, maybe it’s a good conversation starter for both of you.”

You lean against the wall where the phone hangs, letting your furry son sit on the counter. “Yeah maybe. I mean, it was all too fast anyways.”

“Yeah! You have lots of time. Just take baby steps. I think slow and steady would put yours and his mind at ease.”

You had to agree. Time had to heal all wounds. You two had to start again, without interruptions. 

You finish talking to Nancy, reassuring her that you’d need to get over the first wave of shock and tell him when he turned up. She offered to go over but you’d declined. When everything’s over, you collapse onto the couch again, slumping as far as your back would let you. Your stomach protruding a little from under your tee. You roll up the lower half of your shirt and let it sit above your belly button. 

You prod your fingers at nothing, feeling odd and a little bit silly at the thought that there would be a little person in there. 

Mickey whimpers. 

“Looks like you’re the baby still.” You chuckle, scratching behind his ears.

The peace and silence are broken by the door swinging open to reveal an out of breath Steve. You straighten up immediately and pull your shirt down. 

“Are you okay?” You ask, making a pass to reach for him but he sticks a hand out for you to wait as he regains his composure. 

“I’m….fine…..just have to….talk...holdonaminute.”

He’s visibly sweating, beads of sweat on his forehead. He looks like he just ran track. His pants come to a slow until he’s back to normal. He puts his hands on his knees and it takes everything in you to not make an old joke for the sake of the seriousness of the situation.

He stands up straight, keeping his eyes trained on you, and with a softness in them, you feel at ease.

“I quit my job.” He says finally.

Your eyes widen. “You what?”

The confession hung in the air, settling in like the warmth of the radiator. He rushes to you and kneels before you can leap up off the couch and takes your hands in his. 

“Hear me out. Before you get mad, just hear me out.”

“Okay.” 

“I’ve done a lot and I mean a lot of reassessment about you, me, everything. If we’re going to do this, I want them to be proud of me. I want to be there for them as much as I can be. I’m starting over. At 28.” 

You stifle a laugh but release it when Steve takes the initiative to laugh at himself. 

“So….what are you going to be doing now?” You give his hands a squeeze, utterly terrified at the plunge he’s taking.

He looks as if he hasn’t planned that far ahead besides quitting. “I….don't know. But it’s, um, kind of cool. I get to see a bunch of different jobs. Find out what I really like.” 

“And, what’s that?”

“You.” He smiles, the sight of it sending butterflies free in your stomach. “I like you. So, so much. You’re not hard to get at all, you’re hard to earn. I’d take that over any messy, drunk bridesmaid.”

You tilt your head, feeling the corners of your lips lifting and before you know it, you’re grinning like an idiot.

“And that’s why,” he says, his right hand leaving yours and digging into his pocket to bring out a plastic ring from the bubble gum machines in the laundromat downstairs, “I’m jumping in, all the way.”

“Steve…” You’re nearly speechless. “Oh my god, what are you doing?”

“I know it’s not perfect or big or shiny. But this is just a placeholder for now. I’m all in if you are.” He holds the ring with the pink gem in his fingers, waiting for you.

Maybe it’s the fact that ever since you started to see him in a different light since the start of the year, you’d determined that you’d follow him anywhere. Whether he’d have you or not. Even with his moods and awkwardness and clumsiness. He’d been scored on your heart. You’d marry him with paper rings.

“I’m not pregnant.” You reveal.

His face softens. “What?”

“Nancy called earlier before you came. The tests were faulty. I just wanted you to know that so that wasn’t the only reason you decided to do this.”

It was and wasn’t the reason. But in all honesty, he didn’t think he could bear to stomach the idea of not being with you or the image of you with someone else. He also doesn’t think starting over with someone else was the best idea, you two had been through so much in two years. You shared a particular connection. One that he now realizes he had been looking through seas of beige and silvers and golds. 

“It’s not,” he titters, “I don’t care that we don’t have the meet-cutes or the chance run-ins. That’s not what love really is. I thought it was more complex but it’s so - simple. It’s about being comfortable with someone and wanting to hang out with them as long as it’s humanly possible….and just not trying to mess it up the way I did.”

Your heart swells. This is love for him. This is him planting his foot in the sand and not running away when the sea rushes for him. Anyone else would’ve ditched him the moment things got ugly. But you were nothing if devoted.

“Yes, Dingus. I’m in too.” You nod, overjoyed as you feel your eyes get watery. 

Don & Mary’s Wedding

December 25, 1994

Hawkins, Indiana

“Okay, okay, how does this look?” Steve asks, fixing his tux for the fifth time that day. 

You roll your eyes. “You look fine babe, honestly. We’ve ironed the jacket out twice. Any more and I think you’re going to set it on fire and then you’ll upstage the bride.”

Steve snorts, fixing the knot on his tie. “I’m sorry. I’m just so nervous. I can’t mess up the speech.”

You fix the starchy collar of his shirt. “I’ve heard it many times and I think you’ll do great. Just don’t think too much about it.”

“You don’t think it’s too late to back out?” 

“I think,” You pull him by his tie close to your face to tease him. “If you can get through this, you can either have the best after-party experience or you can get the new fridge.”

Steve purses his lips, conflicted. “We do need a new fridge.”

You playfully smack his arm as you feign offense. 

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding.” He repeats, enveloping you in a hug. 

“Whoa, whoa, easy on the goods.” You say, smoothing out the easily crinkled fabric of your dress. 

“I’m always easy on them.” He jests, slipping in innuendo that you still find yourself blushing to.

“Alright, alright. Let’s go before they start guessing why we’re late.” 

You climb onto his back and ride him piggyback all the way to the elevator. He goes over his speech one more time as you descend and tries to tell a joke at the end that doesn’t stick the landing. 

You arrive just in time, settling at the table next to the newlyweds. You pat Steve on the shoulder, give him a glass, and wish him good luck. “Go get ‘em.” 

He kisses you tenderly before he goes up on stage, feeling like a teen again the way his senses go crazy when he kisses you. He fumbles his way up the stairs to the microphone making you hold back a laugh. He composes himself a second later.

“Hey everyone! Thanks for coming. I’m Steve. Most of you know me as Don’s son. And if you’re wondering why I’m up here giving his best man speech, so am I.”

The crowd of family and friends laugh in unison.  

Steve fixes his footing and his grip on the champagne glass tightens. 

“The truth is, I put up a pretty big stink about all of this. I didn’t want to do it. To me, a second marriage was ill-advised. I mean, my parents’ divorce was pretty hard to swallow. But also, I just didn’t get it. I believed in things like fate and love at first sight, that once you found the one, that was the ballgame.”

He scans the crowd, passing familiar faces like Jonathan and Nancy, Dustin and Suzie, Robin and Kali, each one helping take the pressure off just a bit. He stops when he lands on you, your warm smile and thumbs up making him feel better.

“But the truth is, if you spend your whole life looking for something perfect, you wind up with nothing. See, there are many innings in this ball game and I don’t think it's about good timing or fate. It’s about trying not to mess up.”

He locks eyes with you for the last part.

“But you will mess up. No matter how hard you try, you’ll get in your own head. But if you can learn from your mistakes, you might just end up with something...even better.”

“I’d like to raise a glass,” He says, raising his cup along with everyone else. “Dad, Mary, congratulations.”

The guests applaud as Don is overcome with emotion and wipes at his happy tears and takes his son in a bear hug. Steve is taken aback by the sudden strength of his father and nearly drops his glass.

The party goes off without a hitch. Steve actually partakes in the festivities with pride and even makes an attempt to get to know his stepbrothers. He laughs at their awful attempts at jokes and bestows some girl advice when they ask him about you. Jonathan, Nancy, Robin, Kali, Dustin and Suzie all congratulate Steve when they find out what the pink stone on your finger means. You meet Steve’s mom for the first time, a charming and lovely woman who is eager to show you loose baby pictures in her clutch and embarrassing stories.

You wait on the sidelines watching as the new Harrington family take their family photos. Mary and Steve talk in what seems to be a sincere and sweet conversation. Don is trying to bribe the rambunctious kids with sweets if they can sit still for the photo. Jonathan glances from them to you.

“Hey,” He asks from behind the camera. “Why aren’t you in there?”

You open your mouth to justify it until Don speaks up.

“He’s right. What are you doing there? Come in! Come in!” He waves you over with encouragement until the entire Harrington gang begins to beg for you to jump in.

“Come in sweetie!” Mary cheers.

You’re about to make your way until Steve leaves the group and carries you over his shoulder. Jonathan smirks as he takes multiple photos, taking advantage of the candid moment. Steve’s stepbrothers singsong about you two kissing in a tree. The Harrington party make a mixture of sounds and cheers as Steve puts you down and wraps his arms around you in a prom pose. You go with it, feeling like you belonged in this crazy puzzle with other people. The little kids make a disgusted sound when you peck Steve on the cheek.

He kisses the top of your head in return and gives you a squeeze. 

For the first time in his life, Steve’s not afraid of the future. 

[zimms]

an olliewicks flower shop au to soothe the soul! this is somewhat based on mine and @tingo-tango’s tags on this post. 

fields of flowers, soft beneath my heels

Ollie’s wrist-deep in a pot of soil, sweat rolling down his cheeks and sunlight streaming through the windows of Faber’s Flowers, when the shop’s bell rings and a new customer stumbles through the door. Ollie frowns slightly and hastily wipes the beads of sweat off his chin with the corner of his shirt, before plastering on his best customer service smile to greet whoever needs flowers at 7:30 am on a Tuesday morning. He mentally catalogues the possibilities; maybe they’ve forgotten their spouse’s birthday? Or maybe it’s a gift for someone at work? Maybe it’s an apology present because they accidentally cycled into a fruit stall and ruined a fresh batch of melons? 

(Okay, maybe not, but it would be a refreshing change in the cycle of constant businessmen grovelling for their partner’s forgiveness)

Ollie shakes himself from his thoughts and grins across the counter at the customer, who’s sporting a baseball cap and a t-shirt that sits just right across his broad shoulders. Ollie’s eyes track down the guy’s biceps which are a tad too big for the sleeves. Ollie consciously shut his mouth to stop himself from gaping; this guy was hot. As Ollie’s gaze roams across the customer’s face to meet his eyes, he realises three things. Number one is that he definitely shouldn’t be ogling a customer like he’s a piece of meat. Number two is that he hasn’t said anything to this guy yet. Number three is that at least a minute of awkward silence and staring has passed since the customer entered the shop. 

Ollie rips his eyes away from the customer’s face to stare at a spot slightly behind his left shoulder. “Hi! What can I help you with today?”

The guy shifts on the balls of his feet, scanning the shelves of bouquets and individual flowers. “Erm, I’m looking for a bouquet of flowers for my mom?” His voice raises at the end of his sentence, which is kind of cute, if Ollie does say so. He rubs the back of his neck and his checks flush pink. “I kinda need to apologise to her.”

Ah, a classic apology scenario. Got it. 

“What’s the apology for?” Ollie asks as he turns to the sink behind the counter to wash his hands. “Not that you have to tell me that is; it just might help as we make the bouquet.” He unravels the roll of tissue paper and cuts off a square to package the flowers in. 

Hot Guy winces. “Ah,” he says, “I kinda got into a fight in front of her the other night. She was not happy to say the least, so I figured I might as well get her some flowers to apologise for it.” 

“Cool, cool.” Ollie grins at him. “What kinda flowers do you want for her?” He gestured to the whole shop, where various buckets of flowers lined the walls, each displaying a different species. “We can get her just a plain old bunch that’s all just the same type of flower, or we could mix and match, create a nice piece of artwork that she’ll admire rather than a bunch that’s boring and all the same.”

Hot Guy’s eyes flick up from the counter and meet Ollie’s own, moving slowly up his body. If Ollie was feeling particularly optimistic, he’d say the guy was checking him out, but he pushes that thought to the corner of his mind because he’s made way too many faux-pas in the past by asking out guys that have come into the shop just for all of them to be straight. Hot Guy clears his throat. “Yeah, a mixture sounds good. I know her favourite flowers are hyacinths if that helps?”

“That’s perfect.” Ollie shoots him the most reassuring smile he can think of, eyes softening. He grabs the bucket of blue hyacinths that sit behind him. “These alright?” 

“Yeah, those are great,” Hot Guy says a little hoarsely, squinting at Ollie’s name tag, “Ollie.” Something settles in Hot Guy’s voice and he seems a bit more comfortable. 

“So, why'd you get into a fight in front of your mom?” Ollie reaches for the bucket of Narcissus behind him and waves a bunch at Hot Guy for affirmation. He nods in return. “Doesn’t seem like the best idea to me-” Ollie trails off, hoping that Hot Guy might get the hint and finally introduce himself. 

“Oh, uh, Pacer.” He coughs and the remaining tension leaks out of his posture. “Nah, a guy said something about Ma, and you know, I had to rush to defend her like the rash idiot I am.” 

Ollie laughs. “At least, it’s one of the more noble reasons to get into a fight. There’s a bit more chance of forgiveness, then.”

Pacer nods and his gaze wanders away from where Ollie is deftly making the bouquet to settle on the purple Clematis. 

“You like them?” Ollie makes a ‘gimme’ motion with his hands and Pacer passes the bucket over to him. Their hands briefly brush each other during the exchange and Ollie does everything in his power to ignore the jolt that goes through him at that brief skin to skin contact. “You’ve got a good eye; I was just about to grab them myself.”

“Yeah, my mom loves blue and yello-” Pacer cuts himself off with a sneeze. “Also, aren’t they the colours of the local hockey team around here? The Falcons?” Although he has a completely clueless tone to his voice, Pacer is studying Ollie’s reaction as if it might reveal the secrets of the universe. 

“Yeah, the Falcs! I only get to see them every so often, but they’re great,” Ollie says, doing his level best to ignore Pacer’s sudden intensity. “I was actually on the same team as Jack Zimmermann in college, which was pretty cool.”

“Really?” Pacer’s enigmatic expression becomes even more indecipherable. “That is pretty cool.” He looks slightly over his shoulder towards the street before meeting Ollie’s eyes and flashing a genuine smile at him. “I actually played a bit of hockey myself, you know.”

Ollie tries to convince himself that the bubble of excitement that rushes through him is because Pacer is such a good conversationalist and not for any other reason, like the fact that they have a couple of things in common, or that Pacer is one of the hottest guys he’s ever seen. 

(He fails.)

_X_

Pacer leaves about forty minutes later, with a bouquet and handwritten note in hand and a smile fixed firmly on his face. When Ollie goes to scrub down the counter and start repotting the plant he’d abandoned when Pacer had arrived, he spots a scrap of paper that definitely hadn’t been there before. The note is pretty cute; it’s a string of numbers and a smiley face, accompanied by a couple of lines from Pacer.

Would you like to go I would have asked you out earlier, but my tea friend always says it’s bad form to hit on workers whilst they’re on shift. Anyway, here’s my number if you want to go out some time? Call m Don’t worry if you don’t though!

- Pacer 

Ollie grins as he opens up his phone to add the number to his contacts, but pauses as he sees a Google Alert come through that he’s set up for the Falcs. The text reads, Providence Falconers acquire forward Pacer Wicks from Colorado Avalanche in exchange for a second round pick in the 2022 NHL Draft, and immediately underneath the caption, Pacer’s smiling face stares out at him. 

Pacer’s voice echoes in his mind. “I actually played a bit of hockey myself.”

Played a bit of hockey himself? Ollie cannot believe this guy. He plays in the fucking NHL and all he says is “I actually played a bit of hockey myself.” 

However, Ollie thinks as he opens up the article to see a picture of a bruised Pacer from his last game with the Avs, it would explain why he needed to apologise for fighting in front of his mom. 

_X_

Now that Ollie is aware of Pacer Wicks’ existence, he seems to follow him everywhere. Well, not Pacer exactly, but his name. 

It begins, like many things, at the grocery store. 

“Excuse me?” the cashier asks, as she’s scanning his groceries two days after Pacer first came into the florist’s. “Are you that hockey player? Pacer Wicks?” 

Ollie furrows his eyebrows. He doesn’t think that him and Pacer look that similar, but then again, Pacer’s only been in Providence a couple of days, so people don’t exactly know what he looks like yet. “No, sorry.”

The cashier purses her lips, taking a moment to study him again before ringing him up. “Huh, sorry! You guys just look really alike is all.”

“Nah, don’t worry about it.” Ollie gathers up his groceries. “These things happen sometimes.”

(He almost texts Pacer to tell him about it, but, as Ollie looks at the clock on his phone, he realises that Pacer probably isn’t going to want to receive a message about how someone thought they looked similar mid-way through his game against the Pens.

Also, he’d have to wish him luck and honestly, as much as Ollie loves the Falcs, he wouldn’t wish them too much luck against his hometown team.)

_X_

ollie

hey! i’ve finished off that other apology bouquet for your ma!

let me know when you want to swing by and pick it up!

also i was watching the game tonight; do you need me to make up another identical one for your ma, or do you wanna come into the shop to choose this one?

pacer

thanks ol! i’ll probably swing by to pick it up tomorrow and then help make the next one at the same time?

ollie

sounds like a plan!!

_X_

When he said these things happen sometimes to that cashier in the grocery store, he didn’t expect them to happen all the goddamn time. Be it at his favourite café, on the street, or on the commuter rail, someone always, always, asks if he’s Pacer Wicks. 

_X_

ollie

oof that hit from eriksen looks like it’s gonna leave a mark

pacer

yeah, half my face is swollen

ollie

yikes

pacer

i assume we’re still on for dinner in a couple of days right?

even if my stunning visage has been marred by the fists of a schooner

ollie

that was a very weird way of putting it

but yeah, i still wanna go out with you even if your face looks like a dodgeball

_X_

A girl taps him on the shoulder at Bitty’s Bites downtown. “Excuse me, are you Pacer Wicks?”

Ollie smiles sheepishly at her, brandishing his coffee cup with a scrawled Oily on it as if it might keep the Pacer Wicks fans away. “Sorry, you’ve got the wrong dude.”

He hurries out of there as quickly as his legs can take him after that, hands fumbling for his phone so that he can text Pacer about it.

ollie

jdshjkdsjh a girl just asked if i was you

pacer

oh?

ollie

yeah, i don’t really know why so many people ask if i’m you

especially as they usually ask when you’re on a roadie??

so i don’t get why they know who you are without knowing the falcs’ schedules

pacer

maybe they’re a fan of my dashing good looks rather than my hockey?

isn’t that why you agreed to go out with me after all?

Ollie grins to himself before sending back three words.

don’t push it

_X_

He’s less generous to the guy on the commuter rail, but in fairness that’s mainly because he stole the last seat just before Ollie could get there and it’s 6:30 in the morning. 

“Hey, aren’t you that hockey pl-?”

Ollie barely looks up from his phone before cutting him off with a sharp “No.”

_X_

Today, someone even asks him at the flower shop.

“No,” he says, heaving the deepest sigh he can whilst still remaining in customer service mode, “I think Pacer Wicks might have other things to do on a Saturday afternoon than work the till at a flower shop.” He shuts the cash drawer on the register with a bang and hands the customer their change and bouquet as quickly as he can. “Thank you for shopping with us! Enjoy your day!” 

He collapses back onto the wooden stool that he keeps behind the counter, taking a breather for approximately five seconds before a laugh echoes through the shop. Ollie jumps half a foot in the air before locating Pacer, who’s stood in the corner of the shop inspecting a piece of sea holly. 

He’s dressed up pretty nicely considering hockey players’ notoriously bad fashion sense, wearing a button-up, a nice pair of jeans that do all the right things for his hockey butt, and his ever-present baseball cap, but this time, unlike his first visit to the shop, it’s sat backwards on his head. He spins around to face the back of the shop, grinning his face off. “I’m impressed by the fact that she asked you that whilst I was standing in the shop and she still didn’t notice me.” He laughs, smirking across at Ollie. “Does that happen often?”

“Yeah, some people are surprisingly oblivious sometimes,” he says, “but also, I don’t look that much like you?” He pauses, trying to work out what Pacer’s face means. He places his hands on his hips and jokingly rounds on Pacer. “Do I?” 

Pacer chuckles, taking a few steps closer so that he’s leaning against the counter. “Not that much, but would it be so bad if you looked like me?” A mock-wounded expression plays across his features as he presses his hand to his chest. 

Ollie takes off his apron and hangs it up behind the counter. “Nope, because you are extremely hot.” He threads his fingers through the hockey player’s belt loops to pull him closer, feeling emboldened by Pacer’s flirting. “And if that means that people are inadvertently calling me hot whilst asking if I’m you?” He shrugs. “I can live with it.”

Pacer has to lower his gaze to meet Ollie’s eyes, the two inch height difference between them clearly obvious, even if Ollie is six foot, thank you very much. “You were right about something though,” Pacer murmurs, “I do have better things to do than stand in a flower shop on a Saturday afternoon.”

“Like what?” Ollie raises an eyebrow.

Pacer smiles softly down at him, taking his hand and interlacing his fingers with Ollie’s. “Like taking the cute florist that works there on a date for starters.” Pacer starts to move them towards the shop’s entrance. “There’s this lit-” He sneezes abruptly.

Ollie tilts Pacer’s head downwards. “That’s like the fourth time you’ve sneezed in the shop.” He rubs his thumb over his cheek, frowning when he sees that Pacer’s eyes are slightly red. “Are you okay?”

Pacer waves him off. “Yeah, it’s fine; my antihistamines just wore off.”

His-? Ollie furrows his eyebrows before leading his date out of the shop. “Pacer, are you allergic to flowers?” 

“No?” Pacer’s sheepish and slightly bunged up reply says everything that Ollie needs to know.

“Fuck, Pace, why have you been coming to the shop so much if you’re allergic? Surely you don’t like the aesthetics of flowers that much that you need to torture your sinuses every spare minute of the day.” Ollie pinches the bridge of his nose, voice full of exasperation.

Pacer holds his hands up in surrender. “In my defence, the first few times were because I did need to buy Ma flowers, but I didn’t keep coming back because the flowers were pretty.” He pulls Ollie close and frames his face with his hands. “I came back because the florist was.”

_X_

The final time Ollie is mistaken for Pacer is five years later as he’s heading towards the arena for Pacer’s final game of the season. In fairness, dressed in a Wicks jersey and a Falcs snapback, he probably looks more like Pacer now than he has at any time since he first got mistaken for him in the grocery store. 

“Excuse me?” A teenager taps him on the shoulder, their arm slung around a friend. “Are you Pacer Wicks?”

Ollie grins at the kid. “Nope,” he says, trying not to take too much joy in the hope fading from the fan’s eyes before he drops the bombshell, “I am his husband though.”

“Really?” The teenager’s eyes light up. “You’re not kidding, right?”

“Nope.” Ollie holds up his phone screen to show the kid a photo of Pacer kissing his cheek, just so that they know he’s not lying. “D’you wanna meet him after the game?” He smirks at them. “After all, I do know a guy.”

[berjhawn]

Day & Night - Ch. 6 - Clark’s Truth

Warnings: manipulation, lies, brainwashing, misunderstandings, regrets, etc

(A/N) I hope you guys enjoy this, it took me a minute to get everything where i wanted it. if you do please do not hesitate to let me know :D

Day & Night Master-list

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The sound of Bruce’s cell phone getting a text woke him from a deep sleep. He glances at (Name) sleeping soundly naked next to him and he smiles softly. He gently reaches out and moves some hair out of her face so he could admire her sleeping form. After what had happened with her finding out he was Batman, he had been worried that things like this wouldn’t happen again. That she wouldn’t trust him enough.

She had proven his worries wrong. He had thanked Diana for the advice after everything had settled. Of course, she was more than happy to help. Bruce silently rolls over to reach out to his nightstand and grab his phone. Unlocking it he sees a text from Diana and his brow furrows. Reading the contents, he lets out a heavy sigh. Clark knew.

If Clark knew, it was almost time to reveal everything he and Connor found out about what Lois had done. There was more than enough evidence proving that (Name) had told him the truth. The more Bruce thought about how Clark had treated her when she told him the more infuriated, he became. How could Clark be so stupid. Everyone knew (Name) didn’t lie. It was one of her best qualities.

Setting his phone back on the nightstand he rolls back over to wrap his arm tightly around her waist. He gently pulls her closer so that she was nestled against his side. Bruce was going to have to tell her about what he was going to do with Clark. She had told him not to worry about it all, but Bruce couldn’t help it, He wanted to clear her name. Clark also needed to know the truth.

Bruce is pulled from his thoughts by the sight of someone standing on his balcony. His head shoots towards the windows to see Clark standing there with a pained expression on his face. Bruce looks back at (Name) and gently kissing her forehead slips away from her and rolling over tosses the covers back. He almost forgot he was naked for a moment when he reaches out to grab his robe.

Slipping his arms through the sleeves he closes it around his waist and tying the strap makes his way to the door. Opening it he slips outside and says, “Not here, meet me in the study.”

Clark’s brow furrows as he looks past the dark knight into the room to see a familiar head of hair laying peacefully in the man’s bed. Clark feels his anger rise as he turns back to look at Bruce.

“Do not wake her up.” Bruce warns as he narrows his eyes at his friend. “I’ll meet you in the study.”

And with that Bruce closes the door and glancing at (Name)’s sleeping form smiles softly before he heads down the stairs to where Clark was probably already waiting steaming with anger.

Walking into the Study he sees Clark staring out the window and Bruce sighs.

“Clark, sit down.” Bruce says as he walks over to sit in his office chair.

“How long Bruce?” Clark asks not moving from his position by the window.

“A few months now.”

“Just a few months?” Clark scoffs as if he is insinuating that it has been longer.

“Yes, we met in the diner she was working at. We started dating soon after that.” Bruce answers honestly.

“You expect me to believe that?” Clark argues and Bruce feels his anger start to rise.

“I’ll leave the cheating to you.” Bruce states making Clark furrow his brows as pain and regret fills his eyes. “Look Clark, I don’t want to fight.”

“Why her Bruce?” Clark asks pain filling his eyes.

“Why not?”

“You knew better than anyone how I felt about her.” Clark replies his voice cracking.

“You ruined your relationship with her all on your own Clark.”

“I know I hurt her. I didn’t mean too.” Clark says as she slowly moves to sit down in the chair opposite Bruce.

“Tell me what happened.” Bruce asks and Clark’s eyes meet his in confusion. “I’ve heard (Name)’s side and I believe her. I’m going to give you a chance to tell me yours. When you are done, I want you to listen to what I have to say.”

Clark thinks for a moment and Bruce folds his arms over his chest.

“Lois and I were once again separated at the time when Diana brought (Name) to the watchtower. From the moment I saw her I thought she was the most beautiful woman in the world. The light that shown around her was intoxicating. I was drawn to her in a way I can’t explain. So, I took a chance and asked her out. For a while everything was perfect. We were happy. Then I started to notice that she was forcing herself.”

“What do you mean?” Bruce asks leaning forward to rest his arms on his desk.

“It was little things at first. Forced smiles at things we would talk about. Forced laughs. I could tell that something was wrong. When I tried to talk to her about it, it would end up in a fight. Things were worse on days I would go visit Jon at Lois’s house. I knew her and Lois didn’t like each other, Lois didn’t hide her anger or disappointment with me that I was trying to move on.

“She would call all the time under the pretense that it was Jon that wanted to talk to me. (Name) never said anything about it because she knows how much Jon means to me; but I could tell it was starting to get to her. Then one night when (Name) was at the Watchtower with you and Diana; Lois showed up at my apartment with tears in her eyes saying she couldn’t do it anymore. She wanted me and wanted to give us another chance.

“I said no, then the world became foggy and I don’t really remember what happened. I woke up the next morning naked in bed with Lois, and (name) was standing in the doorway. I panicked. I jumped to my feet and tried to explain myself to her, but it was like she wasn’t there. I mean her body was there, but her mind was gone.

“Her eyes were pitch black and all the warmth and sunshine I felt from her was gone. I was so shocked I didn’t even try to stop her when she left. Of course, when she was gone, I made Lois leave. I still don’t know what exactly happened that night. From then on when I tried to talk to (Name) her eyes would just darken, and she’d avoid me. That was until Conner showed up.”

Clark takes a deep breath as he leans back in his seat to look up at the ceiling.

“I didn’t know how to react to the news that he was a clone of me and Lex. I took it even worse when I was told that he was also a part of (Name). When she told me that, it made sense considering Conner’s anger issues and even his kindness. I see her in him more than I do lex or even myself. That’s why I pushed him away. I couldn’t look at him and not see her.

“Things only got worse when she tried to tell me that Lois was responsible for Lex having her DNA. I couldn’t believe it. I didn’t believe it. And I lost her. (Name) disappeared after that and at first, I wanted to go after her, but then I realized that maybe she’d be better off without me. From the pictures I’ve seen I guess I was right.”

“You know she was telling the truth about Lois right.” Bruce says and Clarks brow furrows.

“No, she wasn’t.”

“Clark, I have proof that it was Lois.” Bruce announces and Clark’s eyes narrow.

“I asked Lois, Bruce. I listened to her heartbeat. She wasn’t lying when she said she didn’t do it.”

Bruce brow knits as he leans forward and hitting a button on his desk watches as a secret computer pops up and scans his face and eyes. After hitting a few keys Bruce brings up the video feed and then motions for Clark to come to his side of the desk.

“Then what is this?” Bruce questions as Clark joins him in front of the monitor.

“That’s not possible. Lois lied to me.” Clark breathes out anger and disbelief in his eyes.

“There had to be a good reason for Lois to do what she did. We’ve been researching everything that happened around then, and I think there’s something you should know.” Bruce pauses as he turns back and types some code into the keyboard.

“We?” Clark asks.

“Connor, the boys, and I. (Name) is not involved.” Bruce concludes.

The scene changes and as Bruce zooms in on Lois’s face, they can see that there’s something wrong. Her eyes were dark, like she wasn’t in control of her body.

“Lois was manipulated?” Clark asks tilting his head.

“We think Lex used some sort of new technology that manipulates the brainwaves causing the victim to do whatever the wielder wants with them having no recollection of the events that have transpired. Lois didn’t know what she was doing. So, she didn’t lie to you. Neither of them did.”

Clark moves from the desk back to the window as he tries to think about what to do next.

“I think you and (Name) should talk.” Bruce says taking Clark back. “You both need closure. Then we can go after Lex and figure out how he did it, and why.”

“She won’t talk to me.” Clark sighs folding his arms over his chest. “I don’t even know how to face her after finding all this out.”

“I’ll talk with her.” Bruce replies standing up to move over to Clark. “I make no promises though. Especially since she has no idea the boys and I looked into all this.”

“I feel bad for you when she finds out.” Clark jokes making Bruce smirk.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you myself that (Name) and I were together.” Bruce apologizes taking Clark back.

“I know you had your reasons.” Clark replies slowly turning to look at his friend. “Just promise me you’ll take better care of her than I did. She deserves all the happiness in the world.”

“I will.”

Will Continue -