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artficlly · 8 months ago

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smog & spirits: spirit-raiser (mini-series)

Gangster/Peaky Blinders Inspired Fantasy AU

gangsterboss!bucky x witch!reader Bucky Barnes, the leader of Sootstone's Smog Boys, needs a favour. A nasty curse has been cast on him, and you are the witch he has chosen to help him break it.

Warnings: 18+ content minors dni, smut, fem reader, begging, orgasm denial, fingering, p in v, no aftercare, sex magic, blood magic, potion for arousal, curses and hexes, witchcraft, possession, mediums, if you squint theres some plot, smoking, mention of death/violence/torture, mention of police brutality, vaguely british setting??, no use of y/n, lmk if i've missed anything

Word Count: 8k

A/N: hey. don't ask. this idea came to me a few days ago and i wrote it all out in like two sessions at 2am. i want to write more for this, i have so many ideas for some more one-shot style interactions. this just got so long so quickly so i had to cut some stuff. sorry for any typos - not proof read and edited while half asleep lol.

main masterlist | series masterlist

You did not remember leaving your door unlocked.

The fog that settled over the smokey, portside district of Sootstone was suffocating. Despite it being only midday, the entire neighbourhood was cast into a muggy gloom. The sun could not break through the thick smog that comfortably nestled itself along the windy streets of The Warrens. The stench of smoke and fish hung heavy in the air, with sweaty dockworkers and dirty children darting between alleys. In your short journey to and from the small Sunday market, you had nearly been bowled over thrice by oblivious residents.

The Warrens, or Sootstone Port, as it was formally known, was not a pleasant place. Home to the working class and the rotted underbelly of the city of Blackstone. The high society chatters liked to forget such a place existed, as it was simply not a charming place to think about. Most worked the ports, ferrying in the sea trade. Others worked in the Smokestack district, manufacturing metal in factories that pumped ash and soot into the air. There were also the select few who turned to other trades, such as pubs, hotels, brothels, or even those who were forced into a life of joblessness on the streets.

The Warrens weren’t so imaginatively named. It was a clever joke among high-society gossipers that the poor fucked like rabbits and lived in their elaborate winding burrows, from which they rarely emerged for air. The people of Sootstone had accepted the insult, finding the whole metaphor rather hilarious. That was because the Warreners could take a joke, unlike the condescending crowd of high society. It could also be argued that the residents of The Warrens could not come up with a better metaphor, as most were not educated in any sense.

Perhaps the mixture of smog and that lack of an education had finally made it to your head. You were left standing, perplexed, as your front door swung open without so much of a nudge. The lock was normally a sticky one, leaving you to jiggle the knob and slam your shoulder against the frame until it came unstuck. Never in your two years of living in the tiny flat had you ever witnessed such a sight.

You would’ve thought it a miracle if it weren’t for the implications.

It was true that The Warrens were notorious for crimes. Theft, assault, and murder. Even if coppers paraded the streets, they weren’t truly there to stop criminals. No, they were more interested in beating any poor innocents that got in their way. It was better to find protection from vigilante gangs who roamed Sootstone’s streets, scrapping like stray dogs over territories. As much as those uninvolved in such business were afraid of them, they also respected them. Their deeds weren’t always motivated by blood and destruction; the gangs stood to protect their communities as no one else would.

Even if you and your surrounding neighbours were under the protection of Barnes’ Smog Boys, it was definitely still alarming to see a group of them gathered in your small kitchen.

“Lookie who's home.” One of the men cooed at the sight of you. He stood closest to the door, one hand tucked in his jacket pocket while the other fiddled with a toothpick that hung from his lips. His blond hair was slicked back, tucked under a flatcap. Steve Rogers. The Smog Boys right hand man. Next to him was Sam Wilson, his stocky form leaning against your rickety cupboards. His gaze was fixed on a silver pocket watch he had tightly secured in his left palm, a short chain draping across his vest. He glanced up at Steve’s words, a wicked smirk crossing his lips at the sight of you.

“Sunday market?” Sam queried, and you drew your woven basket closer. There was an unsettling sneer in his voice.

The Smog Boys were one of seven gangs that roamed the underbelly of Blackstone. Their territories lay in the fog of Sootstone Port and the smokey streets of the Smokestack district and The Warrens. You could commonly see them stalking the streets, dressed in all black with their flatcaps and slicked back hair. They moved through the smog like ghosts, navigating the twisting streets with an unnatural ease. Some called them ghouls; others called them saviours from the fog.

The final man, the worst of them all, was Bucky Barnes. He sat across from you, half obscured by your small dining table. He had laid a box of cigarettes and matches on the marked wood. One was smoking between his lips, his head angled down and cocked to one side, as he assessed you with a look of boredom. There was a terrifying edge of calculation in his gaze as he evaluated you. He was just as large as the other two men, with muscles poorly hidden beneath his black, tailored suit. His hair, similarly to Steve's, was slicked back, and the sides buzzed. A 5’oclock shadow ghosted his jawline, but overall, his appearance was unsettlingly neat.

Not a speck of ash or soot. As if he had just appeared within your flat, blinking into existence rather than having walked The Warrens like any other mere mortal.

You had never seen the man in person. No. If the Smog Boys were ghosts, Bucky certainly lived up to the name. He was an enigma, a haunting story whispered between children. He had clawed his way up to a position of power from the gutters of The Warrens, bloodshed and all. He was a notorious skirt-chaser, his handsome appearance and strong build drawing in women from all classes. Looking at him now, despite the terror congealing in your blood, you could understand the appeal.

“Why’re you here?” You ask hesitantly. Unlike the gangsters before you, you were not pristine by any means. Falling ash had coated your shoulders, staining the tartan fabric of the mantle draped over your shoulders. Your hair was swept up under a head scarf, which was also covered in a layer of soot and dust from the smokestacks. Even your worn leather boots were not safe; mud and filth caked onto the heels and sides. The streets of The Warren had never known any type of cleanliness.

“Come to introduce ourselves. Don’t think we’ve ever met before, ‘least I think I would’ave remembered a pretty face like yours.” Steve speaks up, a gleam in his eye. His tone is playful yet somehow cruel. The chuckle he and Sam share rattles you. The two of them were also said to try their luck with the women who crowded around, searching for the thrill of a gangster lover.

“You might’ave mistaken me for someone else… I’ve lived here two years now.” You speak with a continued caution. With precise movements, as to not brush either of the hulking men crowding the kitchen entrance, you place your basket on a nearby surface. Even the cloth that you have thrown over the items is coated in a layer of ash.

“We know.” Sam says, twisting his body. He lifts up the cloth, inspecting the food beneath. You know it is nothing exciting—some bread, fish, and vegetables. As well as a handful of sweets you gave to the children of your neighbour. You keep your mouth shut as Sam dips into the white and red striped paper bag and pops one of the sweets into his mouth with a satisfied hum.

Steve pushes himself off the wall, his jacket brushing against you. He was far taller than you, tall enough that he had to crane his neck down in order to whisper in your ear. “A lil’ birdy told us you’re a spirit-raiser.”

“I—No.” You stumble over your words, eyes darting between the three men. Bucky is still silent, still like a cat hunting a mouse. The gaze he assessed you with was one of a predator, taking a slow drag from his cigarette. He doesn’t crack a smile as the two men beside you laugh between themselves.

To fend off some anxious energy, you make quick work of unknotting your headscarf. Ash and dust flutter to the ground as you shake out the fabric, a frown etched across your features. You could not help but let your mind wonder to the stories you had heard growing up. You were a lifelong resident of The Warrens, only moving to live on your own after sickness claimed your mother. You father had passed long before that, lost to drink.

“What do you call yourself then? Hm?” Steve asks, breath hot against your cheek. You flinch as he pulls a fleck of ash from your hair. In the stories, they would speak of men with their tongues cut out. Bodies that were filled with bricks, then stitched back up and sunk to the bottom of the Sootstone Port. Men were found hanged from street lights, severely beaten, with sections of skin along their thighs and chest peeled off with a blade. And those were only the bodies coppers found.

“I prefer witch.” You correct, brows furrowing. Your head turns to look at the gangster, wary of how close his fingers lingered. Teeth bared in a grin, he blows a soft breath across your hair, the last of the ash unsettled as it floats away. You can smell tobacco on his breath—a familiar scent to you.

“I need a favour.” Bucky finally speaks up, his voice low. Your gaze snaps to meet his.

You blink. “A favour?”

You jump as Bucky finally moves, his foot jerking as he kicks the seat opposite him. The chair scrapes across the hardwood floors, stopping centimetres before your boots.

“Sit.” He commands.

Sam’s hand finds the back of your neck, a soft push guiding you in the direction of the free space. You obey, your knee bouncing as you take a seat. You sit near the edge of the chair, leaving some distance between yourself and the table. As if sensing your desire to bolt, Steve sweeps up behind you, pushing the chair in until you are fully tucked in. Then, with mocking laughter, Sam and Steve take a seat on either side of you.

“No one told me there was any issue about magic—” You begin. Steve snickers beside you, returning to fiddling with the toothpick still poking from his mouth.

“A favour.” Bucky repeats, exhaling smoke from his nose. Sam leans back in his seat, legs spread so widely that his knee touches yours. You shrink back as far as possible. “I’m no copper. I don’t care what you practitioners get up to.”

You find yourself blinking in surprise once more. Magic was a subject that divided many, mostly due to it’s misunderstood nature. High society treated magic as another lavish hobby or skill, with some even going to private schools to turn their gifts into professions with the right licences. Of course, the people of the lower-class were banned from performing such tricks unless they were in possession of the right permits. Due to the nature of the slums being, well, impoverished, unlicensed magic ran rampant through the streets. It wasn’t uncommon knowledge that an entire blackmarket of forbidden arts ran in the backalleys and warehouses of The Warren. Places where those needing particular services could find them for a much more convenient price than in the higherclass areas of Blackstone.

You had kept your services rather secretive, never using your real identity with clients. It was a precaution to not have coppers knocking down your door in the middle of the night. It seemed, despite your best efforts, that nothing flew past Bucky Barnes. But then again, nothing seemed to fly past the gangster. He knew of every black market and every whisper of illegal activity in the slums. It would be foolish to believe he was unaware of you; however, why did he specifically sort you out? Now that was a mystery.

“I don’t understand—” You choke out, head whipping back and forth as you look between the men.��

Bucky sighs loudly in annoyance, loud enough that you flinch back. He puts out the remains of his cigarette on your dining table, the smouldering dip leaving a black, circular mark on the wood. He digs into one of the pockets of his vest, revealing a large pendant necklace. The chain is silver, with an oval shaped jewel hanging from the centre. The silver that encrusts it in place is swirled, ensuring there are no gaps for it to escape. Sam and Steve fall quiet, any feeling of twisted amusement dropping from the room. Bucky slides the necklace across the table.

You recoil. This time not out of fear, but rather from the aura the necklace exudes.

Goosebumps rise across your skin, and bile rises in your throat. There was a wickedness in the air, as if all the light and sweetness in the world were sucked into an empty, yawning void. The world feels still, as if even the ash outside has failed to fall. The room is cast into a sickening silence, a silence so strong that even the surrounding world refuses to push through. You can no longer hear the people walking through the winding streets of The Warren, not the clang of metal from the smokestacks or the cry of the dockworkers.

Rot.

It is the only word that comes to your mind. It is as if the jewel itself is rotten, potent, and putrid. An invisible smell so strong you nearly gag. Your skin crawls the longer you stare, as if you rot along with it—bugs squirming beneath your flesh, the taste of dirt in your mouth.

“What’s this?” You asked, your voice strained. You know the blood has drained from your face. Bucky looks at you with curiosity.

“You tell me.”

You look down at the necklace. Dread rises once more, and the chill of soil settles across your shoulders. You twist your head and your neck, feeling uncomfortable and strained the longer you gaze upon the necklace.

There was something terribly, terribly wrong about it.

“There’s a… a sickness… a rot—a curse.” You stumble over your words, your entire body squirming against your will. The feeling of dread swims through you; the sensation that you need to get as far away as possible reverberates down your spine.

“Becca was right.” Steve sings somewhere besides you, but you barely register his words.

“Where’d you find this?” You ask. The room is tighter than usual, with the rickety, peeling cabinets closing in around you. The oven screeches on its iron legs, the yellowed wallpaper crushing closer and closer. Your head falls into your hands, elbows propped onto the table. You let out a shuddering breath, trying to rid yourself of the sickly feeling. You rub your fingers up your face, pinching the bridge of your nose, then massaging your forehead

“It was given to me. As a gift.” As he speaks, you reluctantly open your eyes once more. The room has returned to as you remember, your vision less dizzying as you take in a deep gulp of air, your heart thundering in your ears. You must make a face, because it prompts him to speak once more.

“My sister has a sensitivity. She is convinced—”

“There’s a spirit attached to that jewel.” You interrupt before thinking. Your knees bounce beneath the table, your feet shaking. Your entire being screams that you need to get away from the object. You do not care for politeness or fear of these men, as the horror in your heart you felt gazing upon the necklace greatly outweighed any potential anxieties of the future.

“Yes.” His voice matches his composure—cool and collected. Wholly unaffected by the horrific aura cast by the necklace. Bucky and his men were not magically inclined. They were completely oblivious to the calamity that sat before them.

“The spirits're attached to you, too.” You pause, the feeling of bile rising in your throat once more. “You need to get it lifted.”

“That’s where the favour comes in, doll.”

“I don’t…?” You nearly doubled over. “Please get rid of it. I can’t—”

Barnes leans forward, slowly dragging the necklace over the wood. He slowly deposits it into his breast pocket, watching with curiosity as you sag in relief. You would need to burn this table after they left. You could still sense the rot engrained in the pores of the wood.

“I need to speak with the spirit attached.”

Your forearms lay flat on the table, and you rest your head against them as you try to remember how to breathe. A wave of exhaustion rolls over you. Was this how they tortured their victims? Wore them down into pathetic, panting messes? Were you about to become another body at the bottom of the Sootstone port? You mumble into the fabric. “I can’t raise a spirit without a name.”

“I know her name.”

You pause, lifting your head slowly. “You want to ask her how to break it? You may know her, but spirits’re tricksters they won’t always give ya the correct information—”

“I know how to deal with her.”

You arch a brow, unsure.

“She’s a scorned lover.” Sam whispers beside you. You jump, having forgotten the two other men sitting besides you. Bucky scowls at his words—the most emotion he has shown in the entire time.

“Everyone knows you don’t ‘ave a witch for a moll unless you’re gonna marry her.” Steve butts in, and the two men share a chuckle.

“Shut your mugs. The both of ya.” Bucky snarls, and they both fall silent, although you can’t help but notice their bemused smiles. After a brief, tense silence, the gangster settles back into his seat, tipping his chin upward in a nod. “Morwenna Blackthorn.”

You hesitate, glancing between the three men. They watch you expectantly, relaxing back into their respective seats. Given their status and reputation, you had to presume they were familiar with the workings of underground magic. Licenced practitioners would have clients sign lengthy documents for protection in the event of a spell or session backfiring. The Warrens did not have such luxuries—if you made a mistake, no one could protect you or them from the consequences.

You inhale sharply, placing your hands palms down on the table. The wood hums beneath your touch, the invisible vapours of the curse tickling your flesh. With a roll of your shoulders, you exhale slowly, allowing your body to relax.

Ink drips across your vision, swirling darkness millimetres before your eyes. You stare hard into the invisible void, searching blindly through the tendrils of smoke. Morwenna Blackthorn. Morwenna Blackthorn. Morwenna Blackthorn. Your mind hums. Through the dark fog, you can make out figures—flickers of candle flames casting large, distorted shadows. Morwenna Blackthorn. Bones crunch beneath your feet, yet at the same time, you float. Morwenna Blackthorn. Your hands burn into the table, the rotting sensation tangling through your digits, pulling you deeper.

Morwenna Blackthorn

You can see a thin line of thread hanging through the void.

Morwenna Blackthorn.

It is red; a series of knots tugged tightly intermittently.

Morwenna Blackthorn.

Your fingers grasp the fibres gently, your nail hooking around one of the tiny knots.

You tug.

Morwenna Blackthorn.

A violent, ragged gasp leaves you. It claws up your throat, ripping at the flesh. Your entire body tenses, your spine straightening as your head snaps back. For a moment, you are suspended. You can feel her with you, her ghostly fingers stroking tenderly across your skin. She smooths over the back of your hands, slowly and gradually winding her way up your arms. She clutches your shoulders, her bones digging into your flesh.

Then, with violence strong enough that you fear she has folded your spine in half, she pushes down.

Your body instantly relaxes, head lulling downward. Your eyes roll into the back of your head, and despite the appearance being a milky white, you can see perfectly clearly. Morwenna has settled herself deep within your bones, controlling your movements like a puppeteer. You are conscious enough to understand what is happening, but you are not in control of your actions or speech.

Your mouth spread into a wide, sly smile. “Bucky, my love.”

“Mor.” The gangster greets, although he does not seem entirely pleased. You pout, leaning your elbows onto the table.

“Not happy to see me?” You coo. Somewhere beside you, Steve shifts in his seat uncomfortably. It is the most off put you’ve ever seen the man so far. He winces as your head swings around, a wicked grin gracing your lips. “Oh, Stevie and Sam. Didn’t see you two here.”

“Mor.” The two men grumble in unison, scowling.

“Awh. Why so glum, boys?” You whine, your chair scraping against the floor as you stand. Your movements are fluid and graceful, entirely not your own. Your hands stroke across the back of the chair, then swooshes up to meet your chest.

You lean forward, tutting as you inspect your reflection in the glass of a nearby cupboard. “Trust you to find a pretty one in The Warrens.”

Your hands move to unpin your mantle, a cloud of ash lingering in the air as you drop it to the floor. You sigh in relief, your fingers unbuttoning the top of your shirt, revealing the curve of your breasts. Your hands smooth down your waist to your hips; your full figure is now displayed.

“You missed me that much, my love? That you had to find a pretty vessel for me so you could get your cock wet, hm?” You hum, sashying towards the table once more.

“That’s not why you’re here.” Bucky replies. He seems frozen in place. The horror of familiarity. Recognising the mannerisms of someone he once knew in a complete stranger.

You ignore his words, unpinning your hair. Thick locks unroll, cascading down your shoulders and back. You let out an exaggerated, satisfied sigh, rolling your neck. The strands frame your face, and the rich colour brings colour to your cheeks.

“Morwenna.” Bucky snaps. Your brows furrow as you look over to him, pouting once more. “You put a curse. On the necklace.”

Your mind momentarily blanks, as if Morwenna were trying to recall what he said. Spirits often grew confused trying to recall memories, especially ones that brought them anguish. A cog seems to turn as you flash the gangster another beaming smile.

“The necklace… oh. Did you like it? My parting gift to you? Before you fucked me over you piece of—” Your voice, once sweet and soft, deepens to a guttural growl. Your body shakes, and words cut off as you cough and hack. Your hand raises to your mouth, warm fluid leaking from your lips. You let in a shuddering breath, rubbing your fingers and palms down your chin. Blood smears across your skin.

“You shot me, my love.” You gasp, your brows furrowing as your head tilts. “You shot me.”

“You betrayed us, remember? You were a rat—” Steve jumps in, but is quickly cut off.

“Steve.” Bucky warns.

Your hands find your stomach, doubling over as you sob. There is no wound, no blood. Still, your hands dig at the fabric while ragged, pathetic cries leave your blood stained lips.

“How do I break the curse?”

You shuddering sobs stop, a dreadful silence falling over the tiny kitchen. A guttural laugh erupts from you, saliva mixed with blood dripping from your lips to the floor. “The curse. The curse? I should have known… I should have known…”

Your body jerks upward, movements stiff, and jerks like a marionette doll. Sam’s face contorts into one of fear, while Steve looks horrified. You jerk forward, nearly tripping over the chair as you plunge towards the table. Your stomach smacks hard against the wood, a winded wheeze escaping your lungs as you drag yourself forward by your nails.

“Don’t you love me? Don’t you want me?” You cry, your head beginning to twist, the angle so unnatural that it strains your neck.

“How do I break it?” Bucky repeats, voice firm. He hasn’t so much as flinched, a wall of steel as you crawl towards him.

“It was born in chaos, so it must be undone in chaos. I will find you. I will tear you limb from limb. I will make you rot from the inside out; maggots will grow within you; and mould will bloom in your soul. Everything will crumble to dust beneath your touch. I will ruin you until you b–b—be—”

Your body slides back, and for the first time in the entire session, you grab the reins. You search blindly for the knotted thread, tugging hard. Your body steps back from the table, muscles spasming and tense as your body locks in place.

You tug harder, and darkness swims across your vision. Candles flicker and dance in the distance, the sun rising and falling as your body twists up and down. The smell of rot slowly subsides, threads slipping from your fingers. The scent of copper and ash is on your tongue, and your head is pounding.

A dramatic sigh leaves you as your body slumps. You find yourself standing before the table, three sets of eyes burning into you as your own eyes roll back into place. Sam and Steve look equally disturbed as they are horrified, the blond’s mouth agape in shock.

“The fuck was that?” Sam barks.

“I ain’t never seen a spirit session like that before, Buck—” Steve begins.

“Shut it.” Bucky barks, rising to his feet.

There is a sickly feeling in your chest, a radiating pain across your ribcage. You barely register the gangster walking up to you, gripping your chin between his index and thumb.

“You pulled yourself out early.” Bucky sneers. “Why?”

“Buck��” Steve calls again. With a growl, Bucky releases you, twisting around to snarl at Steve.

“I thought you told me she was the best in the Warrens?”

“She is. Did’ya not see that shit?”

“She didn’t get me an answer—”

“Chaos magic.” You finally speak up, your voice raspy. The gangsters pause, slowly turning to face you. “She told you. It’s chaos magic. What’s born in chaos must be undone in chaos.”

Your hand raises to your face, your fingertips touching your upperlip as warm blood flows from your nose. You raise your hand into the light, inspecting the crimson liquid. Your eyes cut over to Bucky's, and he frowns.

“Chaos magic?” He questions.

“Sex magic.” You state, fighting the heat growing across your cheeks. Without much of a care or a flinch, you navigate your way past the group. Your shirt brushes against Bucky’s jacket, the rotting feeling momentarily settling in your stomach as the fabric brushes his breastpocket. You pause in front of your sink, knuckles white as you grip the lip. Blood continues to stream steadily from your nose, dripping into the basin.

“You focus your thoughts on one thing; you get pulled into a trance. Take the energy, the chaos, and you focus it. At the peak, picture what you’re manifestin’. The chaos that you’ve built through the act is released at the moment of orgasm.” You explain, your gaze solidly locked onto the blood that swirls down your drain.

“Sex magic.” Bucky hums in thought.

Steve spoke up from beside him with a snicker. “How poetic.”

—

You hated how your hands shook. If Bucky had noticed, he hadn’t brought it up. He was coolly inspecting your tiny bedroom, hands tucked into his pockets. The room had an eclectic taste, with walls covered in shelving. You collected books, objects, trinkets, or other things that helped your work. Drying herbs hung from your curtain railings, your desk cluttered with papers you had hastily scribbled notes upon.

You ground your palm harder into the pestle, gritting your teeth as you worked the herbs inside into a fine paste. Your bed, stripped bare, had been pushed to the side of the room. It usually sat near the centre, atop a fraying rug. The rug had also been removed, rolled up, and placed somewhere in your stairway. The old wood beneath had been painted by your hand, with intricate runes, symbols, and swirls making up the general shape of a circle. You had already lined it with black salt, candles burning at each cardinal direction. At the centre of the circle, you had laid your bedding and pillows for comfort.

Bucky had sent Steve and Sam away, the two men snickering like a pair of school boys. You all knew what was about to unfold; it was just a question of why you had allowed yourself to become tangled up in such a situation. You had done similar rituals for clients before, yes, but none of those clients had been the boss of the Smog Boys. None of them had been Bucky Barnes.

You eyed him as he paused in front of the carved circle, mindlessly playing with the jewelled necklace that hung from his grip. The awful, dreadful, rotting sensation was dulled; you’d nearly begged the gangster to let you cleanse the object. It was a temporary relief that would wear down in a few hours, but at least you could complete your work without gagging at the feeling of it. You hurriedly poured the thick paste from the herbs into a pot, which boiled in your fireplace. It only took a couple of stirs for the potion to settle. You could feel Bucky’s eyes assessing your every movement as you poured the steaming liquid into two cups, briefly swirling each to ensure the consistency was correct.

“Remind me what this is.” The gangster asked, closing the distance between you. His nose wrinkled in distaste at the scent.

“A potion to help with the ritual. Some find it…hard to perform.” You say, wincing as you realise what you implied. Bucky raises a brow as you fumble over your words. “It heightens arousal and pleasure.”

“I won’t find it hard to perform.” He replies curtly.

“I know. I wasn’t saying that—I just… from experience…” You stumble again. If only you could punch yourself in the face for this idiocy.

“Relax, doll.” He hums, his hand finding your shoulder. You exhale sharply, lips pressed together, as your shoulders drop in response. “I can find someone else if you don’t want this.”

As much as you hated yourself for admitting it, you did want this. Maybe it was a sick curiosity, wondering if this dangerous yet handsome man could perform as well as you imagined, as well as it was rumoured. You swallow, your mouth feeling dry. “No. I want this.”

“Good.” His hand brushes a loose strand of hair from your face, and his head dips to look at you better. “Honestly, I could fuck you with or without the potion, doll.”

There is a knowing smirk spreading across his face as your mind blanks. Fucking rake. You consider if the fumes from the potion have already leaked their effects onto you both. You can feel a warmth growing between your legs.

“It’s my job.” You mutter, stepping away. Although you’re unsure if the reassurance is for yourself or for him. His chuckle follows you as you sweep across the room, returning to your small desk. “Do you want me to explain the ritual in detail or just give you the gist of it?”

“Spare the details; just run me through what I need to do.” He responds. He has closed the distance between the both of you again, peering over your shoulder as you fumble through your things.

“Well, it’s pretty simple.” You sigh, turning around. Your chests are nearly pressed together as you spin. You back up as far as possible, your hands moving behind your back as you grip the edge of the desk to steady yourself. "We’ll have to draw some blood with a blade and put it on the necklace to link it to our energies. It’s sigil magic, nothing you’ll have to worry about. We take the potions…”

You fade off with a shrug. Bucky smirks once more, his chin lifting in amusement, but his gaze remains solidly locked onto you. His hands go to his pockets, and his wide chest blocks your movements. You clear your throat. “The ending is more what you’ll need to focus on. When you reach… climax… you must focus all your energy on the necklace and nothing else. I will be there to guide and remind you, but you can’t let your thoughts stray.”

“What about you? What will you have to think of?” He questions, his voice low. His adams apple bobs as he swallows slowly, his tongue running across his bottom lip in thought. Intriguing question. No one had asked you that before.

“Doesn’t matter. You’re the only one who needs to orgasm.”

“Why?”

“The curse is linked to you. Only you can break it, with my assistance, of course. I am just here to help guide you and lend you my energy. I am just a conduit for the magic, to focus it.” You explain. Thinking it was best to get it over and done with, you finally pluck up the courage to push past him.

Your athame was already in place; the candles were lit, salt laid, and sigil memorised. There was only one thing left to do—the act. You crouch down by the fireplace, retrieving the two cups. Bucky gives you an incredulous look.

“It tastes better than it smells.” You reassure him, handing him the saucer. He inspects the liquid once more, wincing, then shrugging in surprise as he finally downs the lot. You watch with a scrutinising gaze as he places the cup down, rolling his shoulders.

The potion would take all of five seconds to take affect. It didn’t alter the brain or take away authority; rather, it heightened already present feelings of arousal or pleasure. The user would experience a rather euphoric sensation. Dodgy brothels often microdosed their clients with such herbs to heighten the experience. Also to hook in a new, loyal customer. Used sparingly, the herbs were fine, but they were highly addictive.

And illegal. Most of your work fell into that category.

Within moments, you could see Bucky’s pupils dilate, his jaw and shoulders relaxing, and his nostrils flaring as he exhaled slowly. His voice was strained as he spoke up, his tone gravelly and low as he cleared his throat in surprise. “Fuck. That does feel good, doesn’t it?”

You smile shyly into your own cup and swallow down the liquid. You were familiar with the taste and it’s effects. It was surprisingly sweet, with a vanilla, nutty aftertaste. As soon as it hit your stomach, you could already feel the warmth growing in your core—a delightful tingling sensation spreading up your spine and skull.

You were quick to place your cup down and cross the room to retrieve the athame. You had to pin point your actions very directly so as not to get distracted by the hulking man looming in your room. The potion was definitely potent, because any fear or anxiety had left you. Your body begged for him to come closer, to touch you, to kiss you. Not yet. Soon.

“Come here.” You murmur, drawing the blade from it’s sheath. Bucky obeys, wordlessly stalking towards you and presenting you with his palm. You look up at him through your lashes, gently taking his hand into yours. Your skin sings at the content, a rush of goosebumps raising across your skin. “We don’t need much blood.”

The gangster is still as you drag the blade in a short cut along the heel of his palm. You push into the mound, coaxing out droplets of blood to blister to the surface. “The necklace.”

He lets out a low, agreeable grunt as he hands it to you. The potion has helped you ignore any bad energy attached to the object. Your skin simmers as you brush your finger tips along the cut, gathering Bucky’s blood. You take the jewel, smearing the blood across the slippery surface into one half of a symbol. Bucky watches expectantly as you hastily repeat the process with your own hand, smearing your blood to complete the symbol.

“You need to wear it.” You hum and guide the chain over his head. You know you should find a bandage or some kind of healing salve for your hands, but your attention is pulled away as Bucky grasps your hand. An involuntary whimper leaves your throat as he raises your palm to his lips, his tongue peaking out as he runs it across the open wound. The potion had definitely taken effect. Holy fuck, your back arches as pleasure shoots down your arm, blooming at the base of your skull.

His lips kiss along the cut, sucking and licking. Your mind swims from the sensation—ideas of where else he could be putting his mouth to use. You pull your palm away, dragging it across his cheek as you cup his face. A crimson streak is smeared along his skin, and his lips are glossy from saliva and stained with your blood. The two of you clash in desperation, a rumbling groan being pulled from the gangster as his lips engulf yours.

You can taste copper on his tongue, his hands finding your waist as he pulls you flush against his body. The two of you move in a frantic rhythm, scarcely making room to breathe. You guide him clumsily to the painted circle, the two of you falling to your knees in unison. Blindly, you find his clothing, helping him tug off the jacket and then unbutton his vest.

His hands slip under your blouse, caressing the skin beneath. His fingers roam to your brassiere, your nipples hardening as he brushes them through the sleek fabric. You mewl into his mouth, squirming under his touch as the pulse between your legs quickens. His large palm comes to rest below your breasts, his thumb sitting on your sternum as he yanks you backwards onto his lap.

Your lips break, and you gasp for air as the gangster continues his assault down your neck to the exposed skin of your collarbone. His stubble tickles across your neck, and he gathers your skirts, fingers gliding past your stockings to your exposed inner thigh.

Your head tips backwards to rest on his shoulder, and loud, satisfied sighs leave you. The sensation is near blinding, your body alight with pleasure. Had you accidentally made a stronger dose in your nervousness? You had never yearned in such a way before—

“What’re you doing?” You query with a gasp as his fingers slip beneath your loose tap pants.

Your question is answered as he strokes a fingertip through your wet folds.

“You’re so wet.” He hums against your skin, voice strained. You can already feel his erection pressing into you. His grip on you remains firm, your back flush against his chest as he dips two of his fingers into you. Ecstasy fizzles across your skin, nails digging into his skin where you grip his arm.

“What’re you— I’m supposed to make you—ah!” You whine, your breath coming fast as you lean harder into him. Your hips rock greedily, pushing your pelvis in time with his pumping fingers so the heel of his palm grinds against your clit.

“Shh, doll. Relax.” He whispers, his tongue licking up the shell of your ear. Your eyes squeeze shut, and your body is locked in place by his grip. His pace increases, and the panting in your ear grows as his two digits glide in and out of your tight cunt.

“Do you like that?” He groans in your ear. Your grinding hips are now giving friction to his cock, which twitches against your backside through his pants. You whimper in response, a short sob bubbling from your mouth as you clench around him.

Your head lifts, eyes widening as you look down. You can’t see much due to your skirts, but you can feel the knot tightening within your belly. Your hips move more desperately, needy, pathetic moans escaping you as his pace remains steady.

“Please—” You beg, squirming as the gangster chuckles.

“You do like this, huh? Even if you acted like a little innocent virgin earlier.” He growls. The vibration is enough to set you over the edge, a loud cry leaving you as you clench hard around his fingers, body spasming. Bucky continues to steadily pump you through your orgasm. “Good girl.”

A continued arousal stirs in your belly at his praise. Your body slumps against him, panting and exhausted.

“Such a good girl.” He hums again, his digits slipping out of you. You can feel the sloppy mess between your thighs, and as Bucky pulls his hand into the light, you can see the wet drenching his fingers. “I think I like this version of you. The one who makes pretty little noises while I fuck her brains out, hm?”

You’re left speechless as the gangster lifts his fingers to his lips, sucking them clean with a devilish smirk.

“Well, time to get this ritual over with then, don’t you think?” He says. You’re too exhausted and drunk on desire to bother replying. You allow him to guide you down, so your head is placed side-ways on one of the pillows. He guides your hips up, your legs slightly spread, and pushes your skirts to your hips.

“You’ll have to tell me when you’re close, so I can guide you.” You finally muster up the strength to say. The gangster pulls your tap pants down, exposing your cunt fully.

“Sure thing, doll.” He says in response. You hear the sound of fabric rustling as he pulls out his cock.

Without much warning, he pushes into you, your arousal making it easy for his member to slide in and out of you. A growl burns in the back of his throat while you wordlessly make a fist around the sheets and blankets beneath you.

“Fuck. You’re so tight.” Bucky groans, his voice strained. “And to think you’ve been hidin’ out in The Warrens all this time.”

He sinks deeper into you, pulling small whimpers and moans from you as he finds a steady, pleasurable rhythm. His hand slides up your clothed back, pushing you harder into the pillow with a grunt. His other hand finds your hips, his grip bruising as he guides you.

You bite down into the pillow, your pleasured sobs muffled by the feathers.

“You squeezed so tightly around my fingers; I can’t wait to see how you’ll feel when you come around my cock.” Bucky grunted as he ploughed into you. His hand fists around your loose hair, fingers tangling through the locks as he tugs. Tears are beginning to prickle in your eyes, and your legs are wobbling from the sensation.

“Please—” you gasp out.

“Please, what?” The gangster asks, tugging harder. The hand on your hip is squeezing tighter as he holds you in place.

“Please—I need to—”

“No.” He growls, tugging you upward. You fall backwards into his lap once more, his cock still inside you but somehow deeper from the angle he holds you. “You need to finish the ritual, remember? I can’t have you guide me if you’re too fucked out to talk.”

Another sob leaves you, but you wordlessly nod. You hold onto the burning sensation in your gut, the waves of satisfaction so immense that your limbs tremble. Bucky continues to fuck up into you, his cock steadily driving into you as his free hand comes to lazily swirl your swollen clit.

You try to remember words, instructions, anything. You feel too high to even breathe. All you can do is focus on the sensation of the necklace rubbing against your back and the friction burning against your skin.

“Focus on the necklace. How it feels around your neck.” You squeak out, your eyes squeezed shut, as you try to ground yourself. “Focus on the feeling of the chain, the weight of the jewel. Think of your blood, how a piece of you is painted onto it.”

There is a moment of silence between the two of you, only the slapping of skin and the rasping of breath.

“Are you focused on it?” You ask.

“Yes.” The gangster cuts back. His strokes were beginning to grow sloppy.

“Focus.” You whisper, though a breathy moan leaves you. “Feel your energy flow; feel your blood seep into the stone. Picture how it will shatter beneath your power.”

His hips jerk beneath you, his finger on your clit swirling faster. Your breath comes in sharp stutters, your back arching as you find no way to escape the rising sensation. His back is rock solid behind you, his hands keeping you in place as you begin to spiral. Your pussy tightens around him as you begin to scream—

“Please, Bucky. Please!”

Something snaps between the both of you, his hips jerking wildly as he spills into you. He moans into your ear at a deafening level, his fingers digging into your thighs. You double over in pleasure, your vision briefly going black as you cry out. Sparks dance across your skin, your body momentarily alight as the power of magic flows through you. You can feel the rush as your energy meets Bucky’s entangling with one another in a fierce battle. For a second, you feel intoxicated, colours bursting across your sight as the rush of magic rests in your chest, and then, just as quickly as it arrived, it cascades out of you.

Behind you, the sound of shattering can be heard above the moans.

Panting, Bucky releases you. You slump to the floor, off his lap. His cum drips from your pussy, thighs wet as sticky as you close your eyes, desperately trying to catch your breath. You roll onto your back, pressing your thighs together. Through heavy-lidded eyes, you look down at Bucky. He sits kneeling, dishevelled. His hair is ruffled, blood is still smeared along his cheek, and his shirt is untucked and creased.

At some point, he has tucked his cock away, suspenders hanging loosely by his hips. His gaze is not on you; rather, it is solely focused on the necklace in his palm. You go to lift your head, but you find yourself too weak and exhausted to bother. A mixture of being too fucked out to care and the lack of energy from acting as a conduit for the ritual.

“Did it work?” You ask the gangster, and his eyes finally pull up to look at you. His gaze wanders over your face, examining your swollen lips, the blush across your cheeks, and the areas where exposed skin remains. He cracks a grin, lifting his hand. The necklace dangles from his fingers, the large, blue jewel now gifted with a large crack down the centre.

You let out a sigh of relief, letting your head fall back as you stared up at the ceiling. Your eyes flicker closed, a sleepy warmth prickling across your scalp.

“Doll?”

Your eyes snap open with a jolt.

“It’s all done? The curse is gone?” The gangster questions. You weakly nod in reply.

“Her spirit and whatever curse she held have been released.” You affirm, voice sleepy, relaxing back into the pillows and blankets. “Apologies. This type of spell drains me.”

Bucky chuckles. You were just glad you had enough sense near the end to actually guide him. The gangster appeared to be attempting to prove something with the orgasms he extracted from you. In the state you were in, you had little reason to complain.

When you opened your eyes again, he was across the room, vest on and jacket slung over his arm.

“I’ll leave your payment downstairs.” He says, only pausing to look down at you, still curled up on the floor. You blink up at him sleepily. “Thanks for your help, spirit-raiser.”

You can’t find the energy to correct him.

PONY CLUB (PART 2)

196 notes · View notes

sunflowerabyss · 1 year ago

Text

Order's Tension

Pairings: Older!Remus Lupin x Fem!Reader

Plot:

Warnings: Small angst, fluff

A/N: I adore Tonks, I really do. BUT I needed to use her as the plot. Please forgive me!

________________________________________________________

As you step through the door of 12 Grimmauld Place, the air crackles with a mixture of tension and camaraderie. The dimly lit hallway is filled with the hushed voices of fellow members of the Order of the Phoenix. Your heart pounds with a mixture of excitement and apprehension as you take in the faces of the brave witches and wizards gathered for a common cause.

Spotting familiar faces, you exchange nods and greetings with the others. The room is alive with the energy of reunion, and you're pleasantly surprised to find yourself embraced by old friends and allies. Among them is your former professor, Remus Lupin, who looks up from a conversation and locks eyes with you. A warm smile crosses his face, and you feel a sense of comfort.

Determined to catch up with Remus, you navigate through the crowd, making your way to him. As you approach, a voice interrupts your thoughts. "Remus, darling!" Turning, you find Tonks rushing towards him, a vivacious energy surrounding her. She wraps her arms around him, and you can't help but feel a pang of annoyance. It seems Tonks is as attention-seeking as ever.

Suppressing your feelings, you take a seat across from Remus, who sends you a sympathetic look. "It's been too long," he says, genuine warmth in his voice. You smile back, cherishing the opportunity to reconnect with someone who had a profound impact on your life.

The meeting begins, and you find yourself engrossed in discussions about the dark times ahead. Remus contributes valuable insights, and you're reminded of why you admired him as a teacher. However, as the hours drag on, impatience builds within you, and you can't help but squirm in your seat.

Finally, Sirius Black, the host of the gathering, decides to adjourn the meeting. "It's late, and we've got a big day tomorrow. You're all welcome to stay the night." The offer hangs in the air, and you notice a few members excusing themselves. However, you, Remus, Tonks, and the Weasley couple decide to stay.

With a genuine offer to help, you approach Molly Weasley, who's bustling around preparing beds for the night. As you and Molly set up the sleeping arrangements, you steal glances at Remus, who is engaged in conversation with Tonks. She's practically hanging on his every word, and you can't help but roll your eyes discreetly.

The contrast between your earnest conversation with Molly and the playful interaction between Tonks and Remus is palpable. As the night wears on, you can't shake the feeling that Tonks is deliberately monopolizing Remus's attention. Despite the annoyance simmering within you, you maintain a pleasant demeanor, determined not to let it ruin the camaraderie of the Order of the Phoenix.

While you and Molly set up the beds, it becomes evident that Molly, with her keen observational skills, has picked up on the undercurrents in the room. She glances over at you, a knowing twinkle in her eyes as she tucks a strand of graying hair behind her ear.

"Oh dear, I couldn't help but notice Remus and Tonks. She seems to fancy him quite a lot," she says, her tone filled with slight mischief.

You pause for a moment, surprised by Molly's perceptiveness. "Oh, yeah, I noticed that too. I wonder how that happened," you reply with a casual smile, attempting to downplay the situation.

Molly, however, isn't easily fooled. She continues arranging pillows, her eyes narrowing playfully. "I doubt for very long. Remus is a good man, and you've always had a soft spot for him, haven't you?"

Blushing slightly, you nod, realizing that Molly sees more than you thought. "Yes, well, it's been a while since we've seen each other. But, it's not like that. We're just friends."

Molly raises an eyebrow. "Just friends, hm? Are you sure there's nothing you're not saying?"

You sigh. "Okay, fine. Maybe I'm a little jealous. It just seems like she's always trying to get his attention. It's rather annoying, if you ask me," you huff, crossing your arms.

"Ah, jealousy is a tricky emotion, especially when feelings are involved. But, dear, let me assure you, Remus is quite interested in you," Molly says understandingly.

"Really?" you ask, surprised

Molly smiles. "Yes, really. I've seen the way he looks at you, the way he's been trying to seek your company. Give it some time, dear. Things have a way of falling into place."

You smile wide before it falls again. "It's just been years since I've seen him. I haven't seen him since I left Hogwarts. I mean, between you and me, I've always had a wee crush on him. But he was my teacher. It's kind of taboo and all."

Molly nods understandingly. "I get that, I do. But you're not his student anymore. You're a young woman and well, you can't help who you love. What's ten years anyway?"

"Thanks, Molly. I appreciate your wisdom," you reply, a small smile forming on your face.

"It's what mothers do, my dear. Now, why don't you go and enjoy your time with Remus?" Molly says, patting your hand.

Grateful for your talk with Molly, you take a deep breath, determined to enjoy the camaraderie of the evening and not let the complicated dynamics distract you from the greater purpose that brought everyone together in the first place.

With Molly's wise words echoing in your mind, you join the others in the common room. The atmosphere is lively, filled with laughter and snippets of conversation. You decide to focus on the shared camaraderie and the bonds forged in the face of a common enemy.

As the night progresses, you find yourself engaged in conversations with Sirius and Arthur. Remus joins in, occasionally stealing glances in your direction. Tonks, on the other hand, seems to be oblivious to anything other than her playful banter with Sirius and the others. You can't help but appreciate Molly's advice as you navigate the delicate social dynamics.

You finally find time to exchange polite small talk with Remus. Tonks, however, seems to be on a mission to keep Remus's attention solely on her. As you catch her giving you a sly smirk, you decide to gracefully excuse yourself, claiming fatigue from the long day. With a polite nod, you make your way to your room and begin to prepare for bed.

Alone in the quiet room, you take a moment to collect your thoughts. Determined to stay focused on the task at hand, you make your way to the kitchen for a glass of water.

In the dimly lit kitchen, you find Remus, who has seemingly taken a moment to escape the chatter as well. He offers you a small smile, and you reciprocate, grateful for the chance to have a quiet moment away from the prying eyes.

"I appreciate your insights during the meeting," you say, striking up a conversation. "It's comforting to know we have experienced minds like yours on our side."

Remus nods, his eyes reflecting a mix of weariness and determination. "We're all in this together. It's important to share our knowledge and support each other."

The conversation flows naturally, and you find solace in Remus's company. The weight of the looming battle is temporarily lifted as you discuss memories, experiences, and the shared purpose that binds everyone in the Order of the Phoenix.

As you return to your room, Remus follows suit, the soft glow of the dimly lit corridor casting shadows on his tired but kind face. The air is filled with an unspoken tension, and you decide to break it with a light-hearted comment.

"So, what's the story with you and Tonks?" you ask, feigning casual curiosity. "You two seem quite… close."

Remus lets out a sigh, his expression briefly clouded. "Tonks can be a handful, to say the least. She means well, but sometimes she doesn't quite grasp the subtleties of a situation."

You raise an eyebrow, detecting a hint of annoyance in his tone. "Is that so? What subtleties are we talking about, Professor Lupin?"

He chuckles, running a hand through his graying hair. "Let's just say she has a way of being, well, persistent."

You decide to playfully tease him. "Persistent? Or is it that she finds no one else in the room more interesting than our dear Remus Lupin?"

A sly smile graces his lips, and he turns to face you. "Well, I can't deny that there's something captivating about the company I find myself in tonight."

You blush at the unexpected compliment, but quickly recover, deciding to steer the conversation in a lighter direction. "Is that your way of saying I'm saving you from Tonks's overzealous company?"

Remus laughs, a warm sound that fills the room. "Let's just say you're a welcome reprieve."

Emboldened by his response, you decide to be more direct. "Well, I must say, Professor Lupin, I always did find you quite handsome and charming."

Remus's eyes widen in surprise, and a faint blush creeps across his cheeks. "Flattery will get you everywhere," he replies with a playful twinkle in his eye.

The exchange lingers for a moment, and you find yourself caught between embarrassment and amusement. Remus, however, seems to be enjoying the banter. "You've grown bolder over the years, haven't you?" he teases.

Attempting to brush off your embarrassment, you give a shy smile. "Perhaps. But only when faced with particularly charming professors."

Remus laughs again, the sound echoing through the room. "Well, in that case, I'm honored to be the subject of your boldness."

The moment lingers, and for a brief instant, the complexities of the world outside the room fade away. In the quiet of Grimmauld Place, surrounded by the past and the uncertainties of the future, you share a genuine, lighthearted connection with Remus Lupin, finding peace in the midst of the storm.

The playful banter between you and Remus reaches a sweet crescendo, and as the laughter subsides, a moment of quiet intimacy hangs in the air. Without a word, you find yourselves drawn closer, the shared understanding and unspoken connection sparking between you. In the soft glow of the room, you can feel the warmth of Remus's presence.

As if guided by an invisible force, your lips meet in a stolen, gentle kiss—a whisper that speaks volumes. The world outside the room disappears for that fleeting moment, leaving only the soft exchange of affection between two souls who have weathered their own storms.

Breaking away, you both share a tender gaze, emotions dancing in the quiet spaces between you. Remus, with a faint smile on his lips, breaks the silence. "Goodnight," he murmurs, his voice carrying a mixture of gratitude and something more profound.

"Goodnight, Remus," you reply, a softness in your voice that reflects the newfound connection.

He bids you one last lingering look before retreating to his own room, leaving you with a heart that beats a little faster and a mind that swirls with the enchantment of the stolen kiss. As you settle into your bed, the echoes of the evening wrap around you, and you drift into a peaceful slumber, a sense of contentment settling in your heart amid the complexities of the Order of the Phoenix.

The early morning light filters through the dusty curtains of Grimmauld Place, casting a soft glow on the worn furniture and the quiet stillness that envelops the house. You find yourself awake before the rest of the Order, the remnants of last night's stolen kiss lingering in the recesses of your thoughts.

As you quietly make your way to the kitchen, the familiar creaks of the old floorboards echo through the silent corridors. The kitchen, though dimly lit, feels warm and inviting. You decide to prepare a simple breakfast and tea for everyone, a small gesture to foster a sense of unity among the diverse members of the Order.

Lost in the comforting routine of preparing food, you're absorbed in the task when you hear a soft, sleepy voice behind you. "Early riser, are we?"

Startled, you turn around to find Remus Lupin standing in the doorway, his tousled hair and tired eyes giving him a charming, disheveled appearance. He offers you a half-smile, the warmth in his gaze telling of the shared connection from the night before.

"I hope you don't mind," you say, returning the smile. "I thought a bit of breakfast might lift everyone's spirits before the day ahead."

Remus steps into the kitchen, the scent of brewing tea and the promise of a new day filling the air. "It's a thoughtful gesture," he remarks, watching you with appreciation. "Mind if I join you?"

"Of course not," you reply, motioning to a chair. "I was just making some tea. Sit down, I'll bring you a cup."

As you prepare a cup of tea for Remus, you notice the book you were reading the night before resting on the table. It seems he's caught sight of it as well. "Interesting choice of reading material," he comments with a curious glint in his eyes.

You chuckle, handing him the cup of tea. "I find comfort in the worlds of literature. Helps keep things in perspective, you know?"

Remus takes a sip, his eyes never leaving yours. "I couldn't agree more. Sometimes, a good book is the best company."

As you settle into a comfortable silence, you share a moment of quiet companionship. The kitchen becomes a sanctuary, a haven of connection and understanding amid the chaos of the outside world. The aroma of breakfast fills the air, and you continue to chat, the morning light weaving a tapestry of shared moments between you.

As the rest of the Order begins to stir, drawn by the scent of food and the promise of a new day, you and Remus exchange a knowing look—a silent acknowledgment of the connection that has blossomed between you.

The morning at unfolds with an unspoken understanding between you and Remus. Whether it's sharing glances across the table, exchanging quiet words, or simply being present in each other's company, the connection deepens with every passing moment. The chemistry is undeniable, and it doesn't go unnoticed, particularly by Tonks.

As you and Remus engage in conversation, Tonks's annoyance becomes increasingly apparent. Her eyes shoot daggers in your direction, and a tension simmers beneath the surface. Unable to contain her frustration any longer, she approaches you when Remus steps away for a moment.

"Couldn't help but notice you and Remus getting cozy," Tonks says, her tone edged with a mixture of irritation and thinly veiled jealousy.

Taken aback, you respond cautiously, "We're just friends, Tonks. What's wrong with that?"

Tonks scoffs, a bitter smile playing on her lips. "Friends? Right. You may be fooling him, but you're not fooling me. I've known him for years, and I can tell when he's interested."

A surge of frustration and anger rises within you. "Tonks, you and I are both too old for your assumptions. We have more pressing matters at hand."

Tonks narrows her eyes, unconvinced. "Don't play innocent. I've seen the way he looks at you. And I won't let you take him away from me."

You feel your patience waning, and you respond with a firm tone, "Tonks, you can't claim ownership over someone's feelings. Remus is his own person, and he can decide who he wants to be around. It's not a competition."

Tonks, however, remains defiant. "Well, maybe it should be. I won't let you come between us."

Your frustration boils over, and you reply, "Tonks, I won't participate in some petty rivalry. If Remus has feelings for you, let him decide. But I won't apologize for forming a genuine connection with someone. It's not a crime."

Before Tonks can retort, Remus returns to the room, sensing the tension. He looks between the two of you, concern furrowing his brow. "Is everything alright?"

Tonks shoots you one last glare before forcing a smile. "Just a friendly chat. Right, Y/N?"

You nod, a forced smile mirroring hers. "Just a chat."

Remus senses the lingering tension in the room as Tonks departs, and his gaze shifts between you and the door she just walked through. His brow furrows, a hint of concern in his eyes, as he takes a step closer to you.

"Everything okay?" he asks, his voice soft and filled with genuine worry.

You offer a reassuring smile, attempting to downplay the confrontation with Tonks. "Just a minor disagreement, nothing to worry about."

Remus nods, but there's a flicker of understanding in his eyes. He's well aware of Tonks's feelings, having navigated the delicate balance of their friendship for quite some time. His gaze lingers on you for a moment longer, a silent acknowledgment of the connection that has blossomed between you.

"I hope it didn't ruin your morning," Remus says, attempting to shift the focus away from the uncomfortable encounter.

You shake your head. "Not at all. Let's not let it overshadow the time we've spent catching up."

Remus offers a small, appreciative smile. "I couldn't agree more."

As the day unfolds, you and Remus continue to share moments of intimacy. Tonks keeps her distance, seemingly resigned but still casting glances your way. Remus, however, appears unfazed by the situation, choosing instead to focus on the genuine connection he feels with you.

Later that afternoon, as the activities of the day wind down, Remus seeks you out in a quieter corner of Grimmauld Place. The air is heavy with the weight of unspoken words, and Remus, with a contemplative expression, finally addresses the underlying tension.

"I need you to know that I've always been aware of Tonks's feelings," he admits, his gaze steady. "But I've tried to make it clear that I don't reciprocate those feelings. It's just… complicated."

You nod, understanding the complexities of the situation. "I don't want to complicate things for you, Remus. If you need space or if you want to address things with Tonks, I'll understand."

He appreciates your understanding, but there's a sincerity in his eyes that surprises you. "The truth is, I've always valued our friendship. Tonks is a dear friend, but I can't deny the feelings I feel for you."

Your heart skips a beat at his honesty, and you take a moment to process his words. "Remus, I don't want to come between you and your friendships. But I appreciate your honesty."

Remus reaches out to gently touch your arm, a reassuring gesture. "I've spent too long denying myself the chance for genuine connection. I won't let fear dictate my choices anymore, especially not now."

A few weeks of stolen glances and sweet kisses go by and the morning unfolds in the cozy chaos of the kitchen at Grimmauld Place. The aroma of breakfast fills the air as you and Remus share a quiet moment, lost in each other's company. Remus's arms encircle you, creating a sense of warmth and security that transcends the tumultuous world outside.

As you lean against the counter, sipping tea, Remus places a gentle kiss on your forehead, his touch a silent affirmation of the connection you share. The early morning light spills through the windows, casting a soft glow on the intimate tableau.

Unbeknownst to you, Tonks enters the kitchen, her hair still a vibrant shade of bubblegum pink. However, the moment she lays eyes on you and Remus, her face contorts with a mix of anger and frustration. In an instant, her hair morphs into a fiery shade of red, a clear reflection of her emotions.

Remus, ever perceptive, glances over his shoulder, catching Tonks's eye. The tension in the room becomes palpable as she glares at the two of you, her expression a mix of jealousy and resentment.

You exchange a knowing look with Remus, and he lets out a sigh, as if anticipating the storm that's about to brew. Tonks, unable to contain her emotions, finally speaks up with an edge in her voice.

"Well, this is cozy," she remarks, her eyes flickering between you and Remus. "Am I interrupting something?"

Remus, unfazed, releases a soft chuckle. "Just enjoying a quiet morning, Tonks. Care to join us?"

Her response is a sharp huff as she crosses her arms, clearly dissatisfied with the casual dismissal. "Don't mind me. Enjoy your cozy morning."

As Tonks storms out of the kitchen, her hair remains a fiery red, reflecting the turmoil within. You exchange a glance with Remus, who gives you a wry smile, acknowledging the awkwardness of the situation.

"Jealousy doesn't suit her well," he whispers with a playful twinkle in his eye.

You stifle a giggle, appreciating the levity he brings to the moment. "She'll get over it eventually."

And with that, you and Remus continue your quiet morning, holding onto the stolen moments of intimacy that bring solace in the midst of the brewing storms—both internal and external. The complexities of love and connection within the Order of the Phoenix persist, but for now, you find comfort in each other's arms, dismissing the fleeting storm of Tonks's jealousy with a shared smile and a knowing glance.

#remus lupin #remus x reader #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x y/n #remus lupin x you #older!remus lupin #older!remus lupin x reader

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midnightscramble · 6 months ago

Note

Hello, I was wondering if I could request a part two to the recent Portia x female reader. It's put together wonderfully. I've been looking for fanfics like this 😭✊

Sugar, Sugar Part 2 (Portia Featherington x fem!Reader)

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

The Masterlist

Author’s Note: thanks you so much, I appreciate your kindness and am glad to be of service! I took a lot of liberties with this so if it is not what you want feel free to request something else (don’t be shy!). Happy readings to you.

Summary: Portia negotiates with Y/n, who is much more intuitive than she thought. A deal is struck between the baker and the Lady. Penelope follows her mother into town, and debates the contents of her next column.

Warnings: Anxiety, brief nail/skin picking, discussion of being widowed, no Beta read

Mornings at the Featherington estate were not to be described as anything but dreadful. Foul moods persisted in all the women and the men knew to take their breakfast separately. Portia sat with her daughters around a small table and they sipped their tea quietly. With squinted eyes they peered at each other over the rims of their cups.

Flatly, Portia began, "I will be going into town on business today. Penelope, Mrs. Varley will accompany you to the Cowper's garden party."

"I am not in need of a chaperone, and besides I am certain that I will not be welcome there, so I will not be attending."

Portia sighed and put her tea cup in it's dish, "Now is not the time to turn down invitations. Since Cousin Jack, or whomever he was, took off, the Ton has been especially gracious in not associating our good family name with his poor behavior. Let us not make light of their tolerance. You will go to the Cowper's party, that is final."

Penelope inhaled sharply, "Fine. If you would excuse me, I am going to take the rest of my breakfast in my room.” Portia scoffed and waved her hand towards the door, inviting Penelope to leave.

…

Once Portia’s carriage took off, Penelope began her covert exit. She had absolutely no intention of attending the Cowper's garden party. It served no purpose to her, as anyone that Cressida invited would surly be aware the unpleasantness between the two, and thus be tight lipped or quick to quip around her. She would rather spend her afternoon in town, lurking in shop corners and listening to other's converse.

...

Arriving at the bakery, Portia felt a chill run down her spine once the aroma hit her nose. Her stomach sank in anticipation, she could not let the comforting environment fool her, Miss Y/l/n was a business woman, and if she had made it this far then she was obviously cunning. Portia never liked cunning women, they saw through her too easily, identifying her as one of their own.

Y/n's head popped out from behind a shelf at the sound of the shop bell, "Ah, Lady Featherington, wonderful to see you again, how did you enjoy the sweets?" She smiled at the redheaded woman, whose sharp edges and dark dress looked completely out of place among the pastel deserts that surrounded her.

"I'm afraid my daughters and their husbands had gotten to them before I had a chance," She should have lied, said some sort of pleasant remark about the pastries, to butter the woman up. However, it seemed as though regardless of how many times she ran through the interaction in her head, she was unequipped in the moment. She took a deep breath and turned to examine a shelf of bagged goodies with faux interest.

The baker's smile faltered, feeling an odd dissatisfaction at Portia's statement. She pursed her lips to contain her feelings, "Well did your daughter's enjoy them?"

Portia turned back around, "Yes, they have sent me with a list of what they would like to order for the foreseeable future."

"Wonderful, let me go get my ledger and then we can discuss. Why don't you take a seat and I'll be back in a minute." Before the Lady could respond, Y/n had already moved to the backroom kitchen, leaving Portia on her own in the front of the shop. She took a seat at one of the tables and drummed her fingers on the surface. She looked out the windows, surveying the mostly empty part of town.

She was unable to inspect the view thoroughly, as Y/n came back out, with her ledger tucked under her arm, holding a tea cup in each hand, and balancing a plate with pastries on her forearm. If the baker had not interrupted her window gazing, she would have caught a glimpse of familiar red hair, dodging into an alley way to not be seen by her mother.

Placing the cups down, Y/n explained, "My apologies for the wait, I figured some hot chocolate would be appropriate. It's a French recipe I've been tampering with, do tell me if its too bitter?"

Portia smiled politely and took a sip. Surprised, she hummed in delight, "That is quite good, not bitter at all..." The baker smiled widely, and felt her cheeks warm at the genuine compliment. Portia put her cup down and moved her hands beneath the table, picking at the skin around her nails as she prepared herself to breach the next topic of conversation. Y/n pushed the plate of pastries between them, and grabbed one for herself to encourage the other woman to follow suit. Portia didn't take the bait.

Irked, Y/n was about to offer verbally, but Portia beat her to speaking, "Shall we discuss the payments for your fine sweets?"

She tossed her hands into the air in frustration, "How do you know my sweets are of fine quality if you have not tried them?" The other woman widened her eyes, this was not going the way she had anticipated, and the baker seemed to care little for conversational etiquette.

"I am not some pet. I cannot eat on command," Portia scoffed, "but if you must know I am not keen on sweets." Y/n narrowed her eyes, everyone was keen on sweets, and the lie was far too blatant given the way she eyed the pastries. Sucking on her teeth, she figured that this must be part of Portia's negotiation strategy. Y/n had never had a stingy client, hesitant one's sure, but never frugal. They did not negotiate, in fact, they threw extra money at her to express their satisfaction once they realized her talent for baking. In this regard, Portia was unlike other members of the Ton.

"Well that is because you have not tried mine." The baker smiled cockily, her eyes holding an intensity that made Portia stutter her response, "I- That is quite the claim, Miss Y/n."

Y/n leaned back in her chair with raised eyebrows. Portia's cagey behavior somewhat reminded her of herself after her husband had passed, a time where she could barely make ends meet. It clicked with her in an instance, the Featheringtons must be experiencing financial troubles.

She hummed, "Well, then allow me to make a proposition." Y/n leaned forward and put her elbows on the table and clasped her hands together, "Every evening you shall meet here with me for an hour and I will tempt you with desserts. For as long as you can withstand, you will not have to pay for your orders."

Portia pressed her lips together, trying not to seem too eager for the deal, "That sounds fair, are those the only conditions?"

Without breaking their gaze, Y/n moved her head to the side in suspicion, "If I hear that while at some social gathering you partook in dessert, then the agreement is off."

"Deal." The baker inhaled and her eyes darkened slightly, something deep inside of her, something nasty and possessive, was all too pleased with this turn of events. Portia was her client, and her client alone. Only her sweets would grace those plump ruby lips- She sat back to try and clear her head.

"Now, what would you like to include in your order?"

...

Penelope watched the interaction of the two women, noting her mother's odd behavior. Portia seemed to teeter between being relaxed by the other woman's presence to flummoxed by it. In her pocket sized notebook, she made note of the strangeness.

...

Evening struck, and as agreed upon, Portia made her way back into town. She made a flimsy excuse to her children about turning in early and made a swift departure. Unconvinced, Penelope followed after her.

Although she knew this was purely business related, she could not stop the way her heart pounded in her chest. It was scandalous to be out this late, on her own, still dressed in dinner attire. However she was undeniably excited to see the baker. She had prepared topics of conversation ahead of time, knowing that a lapse in silence would goad her into eating.

Illuminated by candles strewn here and there, the bakery's ambiance felt particularly hypnotic, lulling Portia into the safety of it's warmth. A table in the center of the seating area was dressed with cutlery and a platter in the middle, covered by a silver cloche. Coming from the kitchen with two cups in hand, Y/n smiled at Portia. She knew that there was not a treat in the world that would tempt Portia on the first night of their deal, so she elected for baking a simple passion fruit cake, decorated with whipped cream and drizzled jam atop.

"Take a seat Lady Featherington," She placed, what Portia noticed to be, two cups of coffee on the table. An odd choice given the drinks well known abilities of appetite suppression.

The woman sat across from each other and Y/n uncovered the dessert. Portia narrowed her eyes and sniffed, "While it does have a delicious appearance, it does not tempt me."

Y/n hid her smirk behind her cup before taking a long sip, "I will keep that in mind when planning for tomorrow's temptation."

Portia nodded and began her scripted questioning, "How did you learn to bake?"

The two women engaged in conversation easily, sharing light hearted details of their upbringings and current lives. Portia had to abandon her planned topics, as Y/n seemed more interested in hearing her talk, asking her questions. The intense attention of the baker made her flush. In all her life, no one had listened to her speak with such devotion to detail and scrutiny of exaggerations. Upon multiple instances, Portia found herself having to change routes as Y/n identified her lies and gave her a pointed look, alerting her that she had been caught.

The hour expired and Portia gathered herself as Y/n bid her a goodnight, "I will see you tomorrow."

"You shall."

...

Portia was smiling as she got ready for bed, remembering the way Y/n threw her head back when she laughed. The memory proved contagious as she found herself chuckling softly.

A knock sounded at the door and Portia's smiled dropped as she was brought back to reality, "Come in."

Phillipa entered her room slowly, smiling brightly, "MaMa, I think I have done it..."

Portia lost her breath for a moment, "Do you mean to tell me- its quite early, how can you be sure?"

"A woman knows when she's with child," Phillipa airily responded while shrugging her shoulders. She rushed forward to hug her daughter.

"Oh, Phillipa, I am so proud of you," She cradled her face in her palms and gazed at her hopefully. "You must get plenty of rest, and pray for a boy." Phillipa skipped out of the room and started giggly, leaving Portia to assume that Mister Finch had been waiting outside the room for her.

As she tucked herself into bed she realized that she no longer needed the services of the baker. In truth, she did not want their meetings to cease. She began to reason with herself; it would be good to keep the house filled with sweets, in case guests arrived at calling hour, she did have one single daughter after all.

Settled, she allowed herself to fall asleep, thinking of tomorrow's meeting.

...

When said meeting arrived, Portia had elected for a simpler gown, feeling like she did not have to put on a show for her new friend. It was a deep purple piece that had loose sleeves, the material heavy enough to keep her warm and light enough to not constrict her movements.

The tables had moved since their last meeting, with chairs stacked upon all but one, an obvious sign of the store having been closed. Adorned with a table cloth and two sets of plates, the baker had set up a table by the window. Y/n emerged from the back, handing Portia her tea cup directly, and motioning for her to follow to the table. The red head followed quickly, smiling at the familiarity. It was only the closest of confidants who could greet her wordlessly.

"I present to you..." Y/n picked up the cloche, "chocolate chip cookies." She could tell the Lady was underwhelmed and was incredibly pleased with the outcome.

The two women sat across from each other, both playing their own game, with the same goal of extending their meetings.

"They do not tempt me, I suppose we shall just have to fill the rest of the hour with conversation." Portia pursed her lips innocently.

"Wonderful, I had a topic in mind," Portia tilted her head curiously, "What was your husband like?"

Portia stuttered, "I well, I got married my first year out, the Featherington family was quite respectable. He was charming enough and titled, there was not much more I could ask for."

Y/n hummed and sipped her tea, "Did you not care much for a love match?"

Taking a moment to think about it, Portia let her eyes wonder around the room, "I was raised without the expectation of one. It seemed to be an extra expense that only fools could afford," she took a breath, "did you love your husband?" For an unidentifiable reason, Portia felt her chest pinch while she waited for the response.

The baker looked down at the table, allowing a small smile to grace her lips, "In a way, I did. He was my dearest friend, but we discovered our incompatibility as husband and wife after we had gotten married."

Confused, Portia pressed, "Incompatibility? As in you argued frequently?"

Scrunching her nose, Y/n shook her head and hesitated to respond, "Incompatible in regards to how a man and woman couple..."

Picking up on the implication, she nodded in agreement, "I completely understand. My husband and I were similar, although it did result in the births of my three daughters, and I would suffer it again in a heartbeat to obtain them. Do you have children?"

"No, there was a singular attempt on the wedding night and then we ceased trying, we came to an agreement of sorts."

Portia could not withhold her gasp, "You only tried once?"

The baker laughed, "With him, yes." Portia blanched and let a laugh escape her out of surprise. It seemed her baker never ceased to scandalize her.

"Do not be confused though. It was a part of our agreement, to free each other, and have relations independent of our marriage. My husband was very compassionate and tolerant, I was very lucky to have found him." With a sudden change of thought, Y/n cocked her head at Portia, "Did you ever take on a partner aside from your husband?"

The red head laughed, "No, there was one man who almost charmed me. He used my desperation for respect and security against me, it was a very confusing, vulnerable time for my family. My affection for him turned out to be nothing more than chasing the feelings he imparted on me, not for the man himself." Cousin Jack had been an ugly reminder of her inability to connect with men.

Y/n nodded deeply, "When I first met my husband, his attention felt like basking in the sun. I learned quickly that same feeling could be found in anyone showing me attention, it just so happened that he had been the first."

"Perhaps someone should write a book, to help guide young ladies through courtship," Portia offered and they both laughed.

"I'm sure if we put our minds together, we could cover it all," Y/n joked.

They spent the rest of the evening laughing back and forth, discussing hypothetical chapters of their romantic guide.

"And I can write the final chapter," Y/n put her hands in the air and slowly spread them as if the title would appear "how to find a lover you actually like," Portia laughed indecently at that and felt he cheeks turn red at the thought. She wondered distantly who the baker invited into her bed, but could not bring herself to imagine Y/n being touched by a man.

Portia wanted to know more, desperately so, however the distant sound of the towns bell tower reminded the women that the hour had ceased. Her questions would have to wait until tomorrow.

...

Penelope watched from a distance as her mother stood from the table. She signaled her carriage to come to her, as to arrive home before her Portia did.

The young woman would continue to track her mother's evening movements until she could identify the reason for them. If this were a simple friendship, the baker could surely visit the Featherington estate during calling hour, and thus its complicated nature was revealed.

She knew it was high time to include her family in the Lady Whistledown column again, it was the only way to avoid suspicion from the Queen. With her sisters behaving themselves, relatively, the burden of being the subject of gossip would have to fall to her mother. However, Lady Whistledown had a reputation for correctness, delivering the truth with accuracy and totality. Penelope would not be able to publish until she discovered exactly why her mother was making nightly visits to the town's favorite baker.

#bridgerton #bridgerton x reader #portia featherington x y/n #portia featherington x you #portia featherington x fem!reader #portia featherington x reader #portia featherington

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cebwrites · 2 years ago

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achilles, i’m talking to you

a/n: something of the boys needing companionship, we feeling melancholic in this house tonight... 💔

oc x canon, they/he law word count: 1k

Kirin’s birthdays are always quiet.

His crew mill about their duties but keep to themself - out of his way in hushed tones, even the bubble of laughter or obnoxious cackles that have become so commonplace can’t break this somber wave that seems to envelop the entire ship once late November rolls around.

This year, Rio’s quiet scratching of pen to paper is absent. Izzy’s quill in their office hardly takes up half as much presence. Everyone feels the way their captain’s bones ache with the weather and the how he wishes to disappear with the swirl of his drink, downed.

Some wayward Hearts, catching wind of the date but not the crew’s protocol, come in guns blazing with balloons, streamers, and a cake Penguin, Bas and Laeno agonized over for hours to make just right - taking into consideration that Kirin never really did have a sweet tooth. They’ve all even wrestled their captain into a spotted party hat over their regular one for the occasion, begrudging as ever.

The reception when they show up for a surprise party is frigid.

‘Course, it’s no one’s fault. The Hearts had no idea and Hiraishin are still happy to see familiar faces, reunite with long distance partners, drink the night away - a celebration just wasn’t what anyone on this ship had in mind for this week, let alone on this of all days.

Kirin manages to peel himself off the underside of his blanket for long enough to announce that everyone’s free to party for as long as they like and that he’ll be around, just not in the spotlight for today. Gotta let someone else take center stage for once, right? Law can see that his heart’s not in it, sharp eyes soften upon being told the reason why, among a few others.

Still, everyone manages to get a pleasant buzz going after a while. Even with gloom from before, it’s hard to stay that way once the sparks of comradery begin to shine through - rubbing shoulders with old friends and catching up with stories of the adventures they’ve had without the other parties around.

Laughter returns to the Aura Nimbus, the Tang comfortably joins her as crew members slowly spread out when day turns to dusk.

Late into the night, long after they’d stopped catching the other captain flitting around circles of conversation - rarely taking part and almost ghostly in his presence, Law finds Kirin drinking below deck. Deliberately avoiding interaction, the small voice in their mind mentions, not that they were in any place to judge. Law was no stranger to these behaviors, they were familiar, a comfort.

But patterns of isolation weren’t healthy.

“Sorry, you know,” Law clears their throat, “for springing this all on you unannounced.”

Kirin glances at their backlight figure in the doorway, only a step below divine, vaguely registering how the crumpled shape he’s contorted himself into against the wall must look in contrast.

“Nah, s’alright. I would’ve rolled out a better welcome met for ya any other time.”

The smile that falls into place is one he knows well but wrong - no, this isn’t the smile he’s supposed to give Law. Or Izzy when he came by earlier with dinner. Or Reiji, any time he popped in to check on him. This smile is cold, dead behind the eyes, the instinctive one his facial muscles pull out of reflex whenever he’s hiding something.

Kirin can’t see it but he knows the exact look, it’s a shadow of actual delight saved only for others to mirror their disdain for him. He obscures it with a drag of his hand, ashamed, hoping he’d be able to force something a little more genuine by the time Law gets close enough to look at him in this dim light. He doesn’t see whatever expression Law has in response to that, either.

He doesn’t want to be perceived, yet yearns for the warmth of another person’s presence. Kirin doesn’t flinch away when they take a seat beside him, but does wince audibly at the question of what he’s doing here stewing alone in self loathing when everyone above wants to help.

Kirin doesn’t have a quippy comeback. Law’s words cut deep because they’re parallels, he sees right through him, Kirin can’t ignore the metaphorical arm extended his way. He leans - slumps - against their shoulder, Kirin’s grateful that Law doesn’t pull away but does whine when they swipe his booze for a swig of their own.

A glimmer of his regular self coming through.

“I,” Kirin begins, ruefully, “don’t think I should be here.”

“Mm?”

“My parents were practically kids when they had me. Twenty with their whole lives ahead of them. Even with marines on their asses, maybe if they didn’t have their hands full with a baby, maybe then they could’ve...”

Law cracks one eye open to follow the faint clicking in their periphery. It’s Kirin fiddling with a lighter idly - a passing mention from someone that he used to smoke comes to mind, they’re just as guilty though. The memory of smoke, lipstick, and cherry cologne on woefully lonely nights fill their thoughts.

No, not now. That was too painful. Law tamps down the thought with different memories. A dull throb in their chest rather than direct stinging behind the eyes.

“Flevance’s destruction was always going to happen. Nothing a single person being born or not was going to change that after the Word Government decided that our suffering was worth exploiting for profit,” they take another sip, Law makes a face. It’s the cheap stuff.

The given well, yeah is on the tip of his tongue. The unfathomable tragedy of a genocide isn’t something Kirin wraps his head around easily - though he’s seen enough of what the world’s worst was willing to offer elsewhere - so he holds it, takes the empty bottle from their hands to set it next to the ones just out of Law’s direct line of sight. They hear the clinking, though, Kirin’s not spared a levelled stare but he chooses to ignore it.

“In any case,” Law sighs, “you—we’re here now.”

“Yeah? So what’s the plan, capt’n?”

They cast their gaze to the thumping above deck; the party isn’t as loud as it could be - Law’s well aware that both their crews were capable of and have been far rowdier than this. Muffled laughter and cheers still make their way to them through the floorboards. For the moment it’s peaceful that way. So they shift to get comfortable, cheek nestled snugly on Kirin’s head.

“Learning to live.”

#cebwrites #one piece #trafalgar law #trafalgar one piece #one piece trafalgar law #op law #lawrin #op kirin #hurt/comfort #hey fellas is it gay to tenderly lay against your rival #while they ground you through an existential crisis and also lay their vulnerabilities #out for you to see #cw implied suicidal ideation #oh god they are but boys #they/he trafalgar law #pain shared is pain halved i guess

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thefanficmonster · 4 years ago

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Filterless

Corpse Husband x Plus-sized Reader (Female)

Warnings: Body Image Insecurities, Low self-esteem, Swearing

Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: Feeling comfortable in her skin has hardly ever been the case for Y/N who’s been struggling with body image issues all her life. However, they only get worse when she sees the ‘type’ of girls her crush is into.

Requested by Anon. Hi darling! Thank you so much for your request (hits close to home 😅) I’m so sorry it has taken me so long to fulfill it and post it but here it finally is and if you’ve stuck around long enough to read it, I hope you enjoy! ALSO! - Never forget how beautiful and amazing you are. Never compare your beauty to someone else’s. We’re all beautiful people and we all shine so brightly and uniquely. No one deserves to be compared to anyone when we’re all so different yet so incredible. Love you and appreciate you with all my heart, Vy ❤

If I ever need my ego taken down a few notches - it never does, it’s barely even present, to be honest - all I have to do is go on Instagram. To be honest, regardless of how I’m feeling, opening that app is bound to make my mood plummet and come crashing into the ground so hard it drives a hole in it - probably in the form of a broken heart.

Being a content creator myself, I often get asked questions about my absence on that social platform specifically. I mean, the questions are based and rational I guess, considering I’m not a faceless YouTuber and yet my Instagram account is void of any photos. It’s not like I don’t post at all - I do! I post on my story often but it’s more often than not scenery I find pretty or a poster I’ve made for a movie/video game. Bottom line is: I barely ever allow a picture of me to make it online. The most my fans are ever gonna get of me is a selfie which is also a super rare occurrence because of how long it takes me to take and choose one I don’t hate.

Ok, but how am I supposed to find the motivation to post any sort of picture of myself when on my timeline I’m always faced with people worthy of posting pictures of themselves. People with such perfect bodies and beautiful faces. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not jealous or envious of those people - good for them! They know what they’re working with and they’re working it well. I have nothing against them, in fact, I love seeing people proud of their bodies no matter their size, shape or weight. Those are my role-models: people who are proud of themselves, their bodies, their attributes and capabilities and don’t hesitate to show them off. Those are the people I look up to but, deep down inside I know I’ll never be like.

Insecure about my body, having been referred to as ‘chubby’ and ‘squishy’ all my life. Inappreciative of the stuff I do: starting from my job as a graphic designer leading towards my job on YouTube - nothing I do, professionally or otherwise, satisfies me. Nothing I do is enough in my eyes because I feel incapable of ever being able to do enough. I’ve been called lazy and a half-asser a few too many times to be able to brush it off as a meaningless insult.

With these problems I’ve had with myself and my own perception of who I am and the work I do, I’ve never had the time for romance or romantic relationships. I second-guess the intentions of everyone who ever shows any interest in me because in my mind I’m nothing special and I have nothing to offer - nothing attractive or likable at least. That being said, I haven’t even been one to make heart eyes at others either. I busy myself with my job and some side-gigs, brushing off any relationship questions with the excuse that I’m ‘just too busy to be in a relationship’ which is technically true.

Having spent twenty plus years with that mindset, one can imagine how surprised I was when I found myself catching feelings for someone. And that someone just couldn’t be any other than the biggest YouTube sensation at the moment - Corpse Husband.

I’m close friends with Poki - her and I were roommates at one point too - so her inviting me to play Among Us with them wasn’t so strange. One or two games, I thought, nothing unusual there, just friendly curtesy. I wasn’t expecting to warm up to the group of famous streamers nor did I expect them to welcome me among them so easily, mostly because my channel is so small and practically invisible to the YouTube algorithm. But soon enough, I became a permanent member of the team, making friends with every single one of those YouTubers I practically thought of a celebrities.

This journey of branching out to other content creators has proven itself to be surprisingly pleasant and has packed my book of friendships to the brim. All of that came unexpectedly, along with a wave of new subs and a higher view count. However, as I mentioned, it hasn’t been all sunshine and rainbows. I came to finally understand what my high school friends were talking about when they were head over heels for a boy - the butterflies in the stomach whenever he speaks your name; the importance of the laugh you share with him, how special and different it is; how cool it is to be impostors with him - ok they never said that, obviously, but it’s what I have as a substitute to the ‘when the two of you make eye-contact’ bullshit since Corpse and I have never seen each other in person. That is, of course, because of him being a faceless YouTuber and me being a self-conscious and insecure girl.

We do talk all the time though - texting, calling, chilling on Discord, you name it. Our conversations range from deeply philosophical to ones that might mislead someone into thinking we’re high. There’s no topic we haven’t touched upon and yet we still manage to find something new to talk about. We have plenty of similarities but we also never seem to run out of differences we slowly come across as we keep getting to know each other better and better.

And somewhere along that journey I ended up catching feelings.

Human nature of wanting to connect with other people, I curse you for what you’ve done to me.

You might think I’m being overdramatic about the whole ordeal and that this is just a normal, natural occurrence many people experience in their life - some even daily. Well, not only am I far from used to it, but it’s also taking a toll of a different kind on me.

It’s like a constant slap to the face.

That slap turned into a punch when Corpse and I started following each other on Instagram and I started getting daily reminders of how out of my depth I am with this crush on him. In over my head, especially when you look at all those girls whose pics and videos he reposts on his story. Imagine how that makes me feel, what that does to me - puts me back into the ‘Constantly not good enough‘ basket, the one I’ve been fighting to get out of all my life. In the past and in different contexts I could easily say that it was all just my mind hating me intensely but now - now that I know for a fact I’m not good enough and don’t fit Corpse’s criteria - it hurts ten times as much. I’m not one to do shit for someone’s attention or to attract someone’s eyes, but it really hurts my feelings. Often times, it also leads me to doing dumb things and making rash decisions.

Like the one I made two days ago.

Imagine me cringing and shaking my head at my own stupidity as I admit this: I, in a frenzy, ordered a whole e-girl getup with overnight delivery.

Wait, hold up, it gets worse.

I received it yesterday and spent the whole day regretting that decision, but then, in my most insecure hours - which was somewhere around midnight - I equipped the get-up, took a picture and posted it on my Instagram page. First full body pic I’ve ever posted on there. First pic I’ve posted there of any kind. There to stay, not to be gone in twenty four hours. First pic, and it’s not even of me. It’s of who I want to be in order to fit someone’s criteria. And that fucking stings.

As you might imagine, I’ve spent today’s day regretting that decision as well. Recently my mood’s been nothing but regretting rash decisions that have surfaced under the influence of my ridiculous, constantly-present insecurities. And I would’ve probably gotten over it rather quickly had I not received a message from Corpse that read:

“Didn’t think of you with an e-girl aesthetic“

I didn’t open the message, I peeped at it as it was a notification on my lock screen. It’s still there, an unread notification. It’s been two hours since I received it and I cannot think of a single thing to say in response to that.

Truth is, I’m afraid. I’m afraid of so many things right now.

I’m afraid of becoming that girl in the photo, cause I’m most definitely not her.

I’m afraid of letting Corpse down by admitting I’m not her.

I’m afraid of what my own mind has made me do because it hates me so much and I’m terrified of what it might do in the future.

I’m afraid and stranded on things to do.

You can’t be her forever, you know. Being her won’t make your insecurities go away, it’ll only make them worse. Haven’t you learned that by now?

I sigh, frustrated and irritated with myself as I grab my phone and tap on the notification, finally deciding to face the music and allow my instincts to carry me through the interaction. Improvisation, that’s one of the few things I’m good at. Let’s hope it doesn’t fail me.

I’m just about to type out my response - not sure what it’s gonna say - when I give the message Corpse has sent me a second glance. I furrow my brows, finding there’s more to it than that peep through the notification let me see.

“Didn’t think of you with an e-girl aesthetic. You’re personality is so bright and colorful, I could’ve never imagined you were into the darks and blacks“

Because I’m not

I fail to realize until the message has been sent that my thoughts are exactly what I typed out and sent.

And honestly, I’m glad. It feels like I’ve spoken my truth, like I’ve lifted a huge boulder off my chest.

With that rare confidence in mind I go on and delete the picture.

In its spot, I post a picture I just now took - a mirror selfie in my homey get-up consisting of hot pink sweatpants and an oversized blue tee, my hair in a messy bun, my face free of make-up.

I caption it: ‘Oops, had the e-girl filter on for the last one. This is filterless me tho so...Hi 🥴’

A lot better, I’m surprised to hear my inner voice say. I hope I don’t get used to all this kindness on my brain’s part, probably won’t last, but damn if I don’t milk every second of it.

Just then, I receive a new message from non other than Corpse.

“Now that’s the girl I see when I think of you. She’s super cute 😉“

My, oh my, who would’ve guessed Corpse has a game like that - and by that I mean the ability to make me blush so intensely with only a text message.

Now ain’t that better than being someone else, Y/N?

It sure is, it sure is.

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my2phetaliaheadcanons · 3 years ago

Note

If possible... Headcannons/fanfic from 2p Germany and 2p Russia, separately, taking interest in a friend from one country? Context: The country's friend is immortal, because of problems she went in her country's replacement at the meeting with the other countries. She has a very affectionate and outgoing personality, so she quickly picks up romantic interest from the attendees.

Sorry it took so long. Here it is!

2p Russia

A lone tall man walked through the basement halls of the United Nations building. His large, long blacked coat protected him from the chill of the A.C. and in his left hand was a simple black briefcase. His steps were quiet along the concrete, but his momentary silence would not last for much longer.

A set of steel doors sat closed and was located at the end of the hall. The sounds that lied within warned of chaos and death. Viktor blew a hard breath through his nose, as much as he wanted to leave, this meeting was important. It was the first time in a long time that all the 2ps were meeting and to avoid it could be costly.

Opening the door Viktor noticed that many nations were grouped together. The Nordics were in the back corner of the room talking about business. Germany and Italy were near their seats, both seemed to be scanning the crowd. Viktor guessed it was to see the missing member of their trio. Once Viktor found his seat, his eyes wandered around again.

This time his eye drifted over to the FACE family. Normally there were shouts and the clink of coins hitting glass, but today it was much quieter. As Viktor looked closer at the four, he realized something. Allen wasn’t there. Instead, there was a woman among them. She was (Y/H) and had (S/C) skin. The strange woman was leaning against the sitting blond Canadian. Both were talking and were smiling. Viktor did note that Matt seemed to have a small blush on his face. His observation was interrupted by a voice.

“All right-a everyone. Take your-a seats and shut-a up!”

Viktor grunted and looked over as the woman moved to take Allen’s seat. His eyebrow rose, this would take some investigating. But that would have to wait.

The meeting went almost as Viktor had expected. Various nations would present an issue, try to make it seem that their homes were thriving, and others would say their piece on an issue. During each part of this song and dance, some nation would then distract everyone. The main offender this time happened to be Macau. He had been going around attempting to piss of Italy so that he could win a bet.

Overall a normal meeting, but Viktor could not help but be distracted by the (E/C) beauty. She had been outgoing the entire meeting. Asking questions to the presenters, offering solutions, and overall being pleasant. It was cute, but there was one habit that stood out, pet names. Each person was given their own.

Despite the cuteness, Viktor was getting annoyed. It was not at the charming lady, but rather at his fellow nations. Their infatuation was apparent in the blushes and sudden smiles that came from their interactions with her. Viktor was not pleased with how others looked at her like a meal or a treasure. He also wasn’t pleased that he was feeling this way over a stranger, better yet a stranger attached to Allen.

With the end of the meeting came the desire for answers. Viktor rose quickly like a weasel looking for prey. He moved calmly and quickly over to the stranger. There he stood, in front of her but unnoticed, while she giggled and affectionately was playing around with England. Viktor felt his ire increase when she gave the killer baker a kiss. His blush made Viktor’s stomach twist in a painful way.

Before confronting her, Viktor looked over to the Canadian that seemed to be looking over at the pair jealously.

“Kaнaдa, who is this?”

“That’s (Y/N) (L/N). An old friend of Al’s, we’ve known her since childhood and since Al’s buried under work, he asked her to step in for him.”

Viktor just hummed in response. This woman was becoming more interesting. With two steps and a cough, Viktor stood in front of the playful pair.

Their attention turned to him quickly. The Brit did not look happy to be interrupted, while the woman smiled at him. Using his practiced grace Viktor reached out and took her hand. A gentle kiss was placed upon it.

“Hello, Ms. (L/N). I am the Russian Federation. Is there a chance you have a moment to discuss some things with me?”

(Y/N) covered her mouth and giggled. To Viktor, and many others it sounded like silver bells.

“Of course, I have some time before I have to get these notes to Al.”

Being the gentleman, he offered her his elbow. She responded with a bright smile and (Y/N) hooked her arm into his and followed the red eyed male out.

It was not long before they found a spot to sit and discuss. Their conversations soon left the topics of business and became more personal. Viktor was intrigued, despite the difference in the centuries she had lived, he couldn’t help but feel connected to her. To him her presence felt like a balm for his soul.

A beeping turned the chatting duo into silent statues. It was (Y/N)’s phone. She glanced quickly at it and grimaced.

“I’m sorry Viktor, I have got to get going. Al’s waiting for me and these papers.”

Of course. Allen just had to cut their time short. Standing alongside (Y/N), Viktor offered to give her a ride. Just something to give him more time to bask in her glow.

Being the true optimist, (Y/N) accepted with an enthusiastic yes!

The trip to his car and then to Al’s apartment felt too fast for Viktor. Before (Y/N) could leave the car. Viktor looked at (Y/N), he felt emotions that could not be explained easily, but he knew one thing. He needed to get to know (Y/N) better. So, he was going to take a chance.

“Would you care to go on a date with me? It is nothing serious, just a chance for us to get to know one another better.”

(Y/N) was not surprised. She just smiled and looked back at Viktor while getting out of the car.

“I would love to, but you need to realize one thing. I have noticed quite a few nations giving me the same goo-goo eyes that you have. So, be prepared for a fight for my heart.”

With a wink and giving Viktor a small sheet of paper, (Y/N) was gone. She had waltzed into Allen’s apartment building like a dream.

Looking down Viktor saw that the sheet was her phone number. Despite his cold heart, Viktor smirked to himself. He would figure out these feelings and if God willed it, he would secure her heart.

2p Germany

It was too loud and cold in this basement. The chaos had decided to get started before the meeting. Nations were yelling and weapons were flying. The A.C. was blowing like it was the reason for the next ice age. It was all annoying. All Luther wanted to do was sleep, maybe people watch, but that wouldn’t happen if these conditions continued.

With a deep groan Luther sat up straight and stretched. The sound of a satisfying pop alerted him that his stretching had relaxed muscles.

Luther glanced at the clock, and his head tilted to the left like a confused puppy. It was about ten minutes after the hour. That means the meeting should have started ten minutes ago, why hadn’t it started? He glanced around and understood one thing. Luciano, aka Italy, was not there.

Luther felt a little embarrassed he should have realized that earlier, but in his defense, the exhaustion and the beginnings of a headache ate at his awareness. Before he could wonder about the location of his missing Genosse, a (Y/H) woman ran over to the podium at the front of the room.

Her hair was wild, her face was flushed, gorgeous (E/C) looked around excitedly. She carried a smile as she reached forward and tapped on the microphone.

“Hello everyone, I apologize for being late. But I am (Y/N) (L/N) and I’m stepping in for Italy today. Sadly, he is out due to getting grounded and he has asked that I lead this meeting.”

Luther raised a brow and smirked. How cute. This pretty little vixen was now attempting to lead the meeting. The next few hours would be fun, well for him anyway.

For many nations the meeting was considered normal. Interruptions and fighting, before the more business-oriented nations took back control. This included the lovely (Y/N), but try as she may to keep the focus, many nations shattered her attempts like already cracked glass.

For one thing, Austria could not leave (Y/N) be. He was constantly interrupting presenting nations by breaking in rock ballads, mostly singing about (Y/N). While Norway was asking her whether or not she wanted to see a flaming heart, no one was quite sure what that mean. Since it was Norway, everyone knew that fire and pyros should not mix, except for (Y/N). Luckily Denmark stopped him by confiscating his lighter. Lastly, Luther joined in. He was dropping pickup lines and teasing (Y/N). Other nations did some stuff too, but it was not as entertaining as those three.

Throughout it all (Y/N) just giggled and responded with affection. In some cases, it was a compliment, other nations got gentle gestures. Those that received her affection either blushed or looked a little shocked.

Luther knew (Y/N) was gorgeous before, but her outgoing and sweet nature made her much more lovely. He thought he might be developing a crush, but Luther didn’t dwell to long on that thought. Mostly because everyone was getting up to leave and some of his rivals were closing in on (Y/N).

Without thinking it through, Luther quickly moved to take a spot by (Y/N)’s side. (Y/N) was surprised but didn’t seem to be against his presence. Luther gave a side smile and asked to walk her out. Somehow (Y/N)’s smile got even bigger, and she nodded.

Together they walked out of the cold, basement room. Luther gave dark glares at nearby nations while (Y/N) smiled and waved at the nations that walked by.

As they walked, Luther decided to get to know this little beauty more.

“So, how long have you known Luciano?”

“Since the third century, after all we grew up together in a way, though I am still way younger than him.”

This comment caused Luther to stop walking. Was she like them or some other thing that he didn’t know existed? Any way Luciano has some explaining to do later.

Luther watched as (Y/N) slowed, stopped and looked back at him. Her eyes seemed to be full of mischief and a cat-like smile rested on her face.

“Luther, if you don’t want to walk me to Luci’s I’m sure some other nation would be more than happy to take your place.”

Luther’s eyes went wide. He wasn’t expecting this sweet woman to be an observant and playful tease. It was hot.

“Liebling, why call someone else when I’m the only one you need.”

Both let out a chuckle as they stepped through the door that led into the stairwell. This seems to be the start of a classic love story.

#2p headcanons #2p hetalia #2p russia #2p germany #x reader #fic

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heartsofbeskar · 4 years ago

Text

the red wolf

chapter two: a stolen gift

oberyn martell x fem!reader

warnings: mentions of death, a smooch™

words: 3.6K

excerpt: A few tears slipped down your cheeks, despite your best efforts. Oberyn gently swiped them away, bringing his forehead to rest against yours. You could feel his warm breath against your face, and it was pleasant, and smelled of the fruit filled Dornish wine he loved. His lips were tinted from it as well.

“Is there anything I can do, little wolf? I hate to see you this way,” he whispered to you, even though you were alone and shielded by so much greenery.

“Let me give you something,” your voice shook as you matched his whispered tone. “Before he can take it from me.”

a/n: the second chapter is here!! im having such a good time writing this tbh; this chapter is based on the first half of the season 4 episode the lion and the rose; im tackling it in two chapters since its a doozy

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The fresh air gently blew across your face as it cascaded over the top of the walls of Winterfell. You leaned on the wooden railing, smiling as you watched your brothers play below. They held wooden swords, clashing them against each other clumsily. Ser Rodrik would surely chastise them for the sloppy footwork, but you enjoyed their dramatics.

Creaking of the boards alerted you to a new presence approaching. Robb smiled gently as he came to stand beside you. He wore a fur robe draped across his shoulders, and you marvelled at just how broad it made him appear. You turned to face him, smoothing the stray furs into line.

“When did you turn into a man?” You teased. He brought a hand up and lightly pinched the skin of your cheek.

“Around the same time my twin sister became a woman.”

You swatted his hand away, but laughed. His eyes held a softness as he turned them away to watch Bran and Rickon, who now wrestled amongst the haybed. You reached for his hand, squeezing it.

“Something’s troubling you.” He didn’t bother to deny it; you had studied your twin’s face from the day you had both been born, after all. “Are you not excited to see the King?”

“I am, but …” He shook his head. “I cannot say I am thrilled with the prospect of my sisters departing at once for King’s Landing. Or my twin sister marrying a man there.”

“Robb,” you sighed. “We can’t stay children forever. Someday, this—” you gestured at large to the courtyard, “—will be yours to lead, along with the entire North. I will be your ears wherever I land — King’s Landing, or otherwise.”

He nodded, but still didn’t meet your eyes again, You pulled him forward by his hand, wrapping your arms around the soft fur on his shoulders. You rested your head on the plush surface, as he wrapped his arms around you in response, both of you leaning into the familiar embrace.

“I will come to see you often, this I promise. My heart will always be with you, in the North.”

—

Your hand was sweating as you laid it on the ornate handle of the large door of Lord Tywin’s office. It was silent inside and you prayed to the Old Gods he was out, having forgotten your appointment entirely. But he had requested it of you specifically via a handwritten parchment, so you knew that you would not be so lucky.

With a large breath in, you pushed the handle down. The door seemed to scream at you as it swung open; stay out, don’t come in here, run for your life from this wretched place all together.

As you suspected, Tywin was inside, head hung low over a parchment he was rapidly writing on, spread over his desk. He didn’t look up as you entered, though he must have heard you.

You slowly closed the door behind you, fighting the urge to flinch as it slammed back into place.

“Come here, girl.” Still, Tywin didn’t look up as he called out to you. Your hand clenched at your side at the name, but you quickly forced it to relax, taking short steps towards his desk. When you reached it, you stood in front of it awkwardly, waiting.

With a large flourish of the quill, he finally set down the writing implement, casting his eyes up towards you. He leaned back in his chair, assessing you. For what, you weren’t sure.

“Lady Stark,” he mused. “With the untimely death of all three of your brothers…you are now the true heir to Winterfell and the North.”

You swallowed thickly, pushing the unbidden images of Bran and Rickon from your mind, their young, innocent faces threatening to fester there. “My lord, I was of the understanding that the Boltons had been granted control of Winterfell and the North.” In exchange for the betrayal and murder of my twin brother, his unborn child, and my mother. You let the ending hang in the air between you.

Tywin tapped the side of his face, his eyes calculating. “Yes, it is true as Hand of the King, I have named Roose Bolton as Warden of the North. But we both know who the people of the North will rally to, if they are called. And that will always be a Stark, as long as one lives.”

You clasped your hands in front you, pushing them into the fabric of your dress, trying to dampen the sweat that collected on them. “My lord … I apologize, but I’m afraid I do not understand.”

He rose now, smoothing down the front of his tunic. Stepping around the desk, he approached you. Slowly, he took your chin in his hand, turning your head to varying angles.

“You are a virgin, yes?”

A chill ran its way up your spine. You nodded.

“Good.” He released your face, turning his back to you as he faced the windows overlooking the city, hands clasped behind his back. “Were you my daughter, I would’ve had you married long ago, but I suppose Ned Stark’s inadequacies are my opportunities. You will be wed to my eldest son, Jaime, once I convince him to quit this Kingsguard business. You will bear him sons, and they will be the heirs to both Winterfell and Casterly Rock.”

Your hands shook in front of you and you clasped them tighter together. When you didn’t say anything in response, Tywin turned his head to look back at you.

“You would do well to interact with him during these upcoming festivities for the King’s wedding. Now go.”

As if you’d be sprung free from a trap, you hurried to the door, eager to be free of this room, which felt like it had hardly enough air in it to breathe. You grasped the handle again when Tywin spoke one last time.

“And girl—” You froze, gripping the handle, breath caught in your throat, and the sudden anxiety gripped you that he would tell you to stay away from Oberyn Martell. But all he said was, “—shut the door behind you.”

—

You didn’t think you could stay away from Oberyn, even if Tywin had asked. It had quickly become a routine, him waiting across the path from the building which held your chambers. You clung ferociously onto the small shred of something predictable in the sea of chaos that this city had washed upon you.

As you tied your bodice behind you hastily, you craned your neck to look over at Sansa, where she was still nestled in the blankets behind you. Her side rose and fell softly in the rhythm of sleep. Padding over, you knelt down, pressing a light kiss against the crown of her head. She rustled momentarily among the sheets, but didn’t wake.

Oberyn was standing in the usual area, arm extended overhead to pry some fruit off a nearby tree. With a small grunt, he freed one that was round and reddish in colour — you were still so unfamiliar with the fruits that grew this far south.

Flashing you his enticing smile, he extended it out to you. You took it with gratitude, allowing him to loop your opposite arm through his. He was warm, the warmth of his skin radiating out as if he’d trapped the air of Dorne within his very body and brought it with him to King’s Landing.

He paraded you superficially through the garden paths lined with Lannister and Baratheon guards, their eyes smoothly looking over the pair of you, some giving small nods in greeting, used to the timely walks you took.

You took a turn down a hedge lined path, the green walls rising high above your heads, and the guard stationed near the next turn leaning back, his view obscured. Oberyn placed his hand gently at your back, pulling the branches back around the gap in the hedge you had found some days prior. You both slipped underneath.

The other side contained an obviously neglected portion of the gardens, some weeds overgrown and flowing out of their beds. Wildflowers had begun to bloom as well, their colours mismatched and vibrant, contrasting to those in the rest of the gardens that were tended to regularly. You much preferred these ones.

You sat on the nearby bench, tucking your skirts in around your legs, allowing the weight of the pretense of happiness to slip off, your shoulders relaxing. Oberyn sat beside you, his knee touching yours, heat radiating from the spot. You turned the still uneaten fruit over in your hands.

“You look far away today, little wolf,” he murmured. “Is it the King’s wedding?” He lightly brushed a lock of hair over your shoulder, fingers remaining to play with it.

“No,” you sighed. “Well, yes and no, I—” You paused, meeting his dark eyes. He stared back into you, waiting patiently. You wanted to lose yourself in his eyes, to dive in so deeply you could not see anything beyond them. “I spoke with Tywin Lannister.”

Something flashed in those eyes, briefly, but unmistakably. Still, he didn’t push you for any detail. He brought his hand down from your hair, settling it on your shoulder, thumb rubbing back and forth. It sat on the edge of your gown, and occasionally his skin came into contact with the skin near your neck. You suppressed a shudder at the feeling.

You finally broke eye contact with Oberyn, unable to look at him for the next words. “He intends for me to wed Jaime Lannister. As soon as he can convince him to leave the Kingsguard. Perhaps he will even overturn their oaths, so that Jaime can marry regardless …” You trailed off, shaking your head.

“What would you want? If you had the choice?” His eyes were warm when you looked back up, his brow furrowed. His free hand clenched where it sat in his lap.

“I don’t know, honestly, I … I thought I would be able to make these choices with my Father, but now—” You bit down on your lip harshly as a sob threatened to work its way up and out of your throat. Oberyn’s hands quickly came to cup your face, holding it steadily as you took deep breaths. “The Lannisters … have taken my home, my family. I don’t want to give them my future as well … there are so many things I don’t want Jaime Lannister to have.”

A few tears slipped down your cheeks, despite your best efforts. Oberyn gently swiped them away, bringing his forehead to rest against yours. You could feel his warm breath against your face, and it was pleasant, and smelled of the fruit filled Dornish wine he loved. His lips were tinted from it as well.

“Is there anything I can do, little wolf? I hate to see you this way,” he whispered to you, even though you were alone and shielded by so much greenery.

“Let me give you something,” your voice shook as you matched his whispered tone. “Before he can take it from me.” When your hands slid up to the back of his neck, you knew the implication was clear.

He swallowed thickly. “I do not want to take advantage of you when you are upset, little wolf.”

“Please.”

It was both a second and an eternity before he brought his lips to yours. Your heart pounded in your chest as his hands tightened on your face, guiding your head as your lips slid against one another.

After the first few presses, he stopped, though he didn’t pull back, your breath intermingling in the miniscule space between you. Your eyes were screwed shut, but you raked your hands up, into his hair. He gave a breathless laugh before crashing back into you, lips pressing insistently now, the taste of his sweet wine permeating into your mouth.

Firmly but gently, his lips pried yours open, hot breath pouring into your mouth, filling your lungs. You felt yourself begin to shake with the intimacy of it. It felt as if he were providing you a new sense of life itself, with every touch, every breath, every sound he made. You had no idea how long it had been.

He swiped his tongue, wet and hot, over your lower lip, before taking it between his teeth, pulling it with him as he finally retreated from you.

With a heavy sigh, he reached an arm around your waist, resting his cheek against yours, and you lamented that you couldn’t see his eyes. You couldn’t even imagine the storms within them now.

You breathed heavily against his cheek, winded as though you’d been practicing your riding. You pressed him tighter against you, turning to plant a kiss onto the edge of his beard. His free hand twisted up into your hair.

“Thank you.”

—

Your hands drifted through the copper strands of Sansa’s hair, twisting the locks delicately around each other, as your mother had taught you. You smiled as you recalled how Sansa used to sit for hours, just letting you practice braiding in her hair, happy to receive attention and affections.

By the Gods, she had changed.

You pushed the thought aside as your hands left her, and you leaned over to peck her cheek, which had been dusted with rouge. “You look beautiful.”

Sansa wouldn’t meet your eyes in the mirror, staring at her own hands curled in her lap. You laid your hands on her shoulders, squeezing lightly.

“Sansa … this is a day to celebrate. Because you are not the one marrying him.” She looked up to meet your gaze, her eyes brimming with conflicted emotions.

“But they made me marry his uncle. A man decades my senior, an imp, I …” She shook her head. “He hasn’t hurt me, but that doesn’t mean he won’t. Joffrey had to have gotten his sense of cruelty from somewhere.”

Your hands tightened where they held her. “I will never let him touch you. Or anyone, Sansa. I mean that.”

She stood, shaking off your grip. She was taller than you now, all long lines and elegant neck and the deep, irreconcilable sadness of her eyes.

You wondered if she saw that in yours, too.

“And what if you’re not there?”

You wanted to tell her that you always would be, that no force of man or the Gods could take you from her. But the words caught in your throat. The words your mother and father had told you, as well. Words that had proven not to be true, in the end.

A knock on the door from Shae saved you from the moment. She escorted you out into the bright southern morning. Everyone you passed seemed to have an extra bounce in their step, an extra swing to their arms, extra wide smiles on their faces. Apparently it didn’t matter how awful the King was, if there was still a wedding to throw.

You had to admit the attitude was infectious. And a well needed relief, after the months you had spent waking in terror, your dreams filled with your sister being married to King Joffrey, irreversibly tied to him by the laws of Gods and men.

The King’s breakfast was being held in the gardens, in full bloom now and having been prepared for weeks for this event. A long table sat as the clear focal piece of the area; Tywin, Cersei, and Cersei’s young son Tommen sat there already. Cersei and her father were discussing something in a low voice, despite the loud levels of ambient noise.

A chill shot down your spine as Tywin’s sharp eyes fell upon you, and you looked away quickly.

“This way, my lady,” Shae urged Sansa towards the direction of the King’s table, and you gave her hand a reassuring squeeze as she left your side.

It was clear the breakfast would not be starting until the King arrived, so you wandered the elaborately decorated area.

Everything seemed to drip in gold, the sheer grandeur of it all overwhelming to your eyes. Tables were laden with every type of fruit and cheese you’d seen since arriving in King’s Landing, and some you hadn’t seen. You spotted one of the red, sweet fruits that Oberyn had picked for you the other day.

“Lady Stark.” Jaime Lannister approached where you stood, hands awkwardly clasping behind his back. You’d heard the rumours from the maids that he’d returned from captivity with one less hand. You hoped Robb had been the one to take it.

“My lord,” you greeted, giving a shallow curtsy. You weren’t exactly sure what the appropriate address was for a man who was not your betrothed but likely would be once he bent to his father’s will.

“Are you enjoying the … uh …” He swallowed. He gestured with one hand — a flesh one — to the surroundings. “... festivities?”

You nodded. “Yes, it’s all very beautiful. You must be very happy to be here to see the King marry.” You knew the words came out somewhat clipped, tense, but you could do little to smooth them.

“I— well yes, it’s been…” He trailed off, clearing his throat. His eyes shifted around the area, seeming like they didn’t want to settle on you where you stood. “I … I know this is no consolation, but I admired your mother. She was a strong woman. A strong mother.”

Swallowing thickly, you cast your eyes down to the table, hand clenching at your side, eyes burning suddenly with the weight of his words.

He started to flounder, obviously putting together that this was not the right thing to say, but before he could sputter himself into a frenzy, a warm hand slid over the small of your back.

“Lady Stark, I was in search of your company.” Oberyn was there, his hand a steady weight against you, reassuring. “If you will excuse me, Ser Jaime.” He flashed a dashing smile at Jaime, who nodded eagerly for relief.

“Thank you,” you sighed, as he led you away from the buffet table. He stopped you once you’d reached a round dining table, which you assumed he’d been seated at. Turning you slightly, he placed a hand to your cheek, looking at you intently. Heat rose to your face as you wondered who was watching.

“Was he bothering you?” he asked, his voice impossibly low.

You shook your head, eyes unable to tear away from his. “No, no, he was just … no.”

For a moment you both stood there, unable to move, until a serving aide passed close by, snapping the tension like a matchstick. Oberyn’s hand left you, pulling out a chair for you. He sat beside you, posture relaxed as he poured goblets of wine, the sweet aroma wafting from the cups. He placed one in front of you, noticing your brief hesitation.

“Do you drink wine?” He smirked, watching as you held it beneath your nose.

“I have tried it, but …” You eyed the contents. It was dark in colour, so rich you couldn’t see through the liquid to the bottom of the cup. “At feasts in Winterfell. I always thought it tasted vile.”

He laughed at that, his head thrown back, and you admired the column of his neck, the golden skin, the muscles you could see move beneath the skin, the smattering of stubble that came down from his beard. You wanted to run your lips up it.

“Try it,” he insisted, bringing his own goblet to his lips. “They do not know how to make wine in the North. A Dornish wine will change your life.”

You smiled at him over your cup, raising it to taste the drink. Sweetness bloomed on your tongue, filling your mouth with tastes of fruits you’d had and fruits you never could have imagined. Heat seemed to follow its trail down your throat.

“Do you like it?” He smiled at you. His hand casually reached up, trailing up and down your arm.

“Oberyn …” You eyed his hand wearily. You couldn’t bring yourself to push it away, but you knew it was too bold of him to touch you so knowingly in the open. At the King’s wedding breakfast, no less.

He was interrupted in whatever he was going to say by the arrival of the King, who settled at the head table, where Tyrion had joined Sansa. A line of lords, ladies, and nobles brought forth gifts of all kinds. Oberyn rested his arm on the back of your chair. A goblet from Mace Tyrell, graciously accepted. A book from Tyrion, which Joffrey scoffed at.

You could feel the tension roll off of Oberyn in waves as the Mountain approached the table. You placed a hand on his thigh underneath the table, where no one could see, squeezing there. He carried a sword, which he placed on the head table. Tywin stood.

“One of only two Valyrian steel swords in the capital, your Grace, freshly forged in your honour.”

Valyrian steel. Freshly forged.

The words were ringing in your head as Joffrey excitedly unsheathed the sword, swinging it wildly.

“Such a great sword should have a name. What should I call her?”

Calls came out from the crowd around you.

“Stormbringer!”

“Terminus!”

“Widow’s Wail!”

“Wolfsbane!”

Your breathing was heavy.

Joffrey smirked. “Widow’s Wail. I like that. Every time I use it, it’ll be cutting off Ned Stark’s head all over again.”

You shut your eyes, hand unintentionally grasping tighter onto Oberyn’s leg. He gently pried your fingers off, and you turned to apologize, but he just flipped your hand over, intertwining your fingers, hidden under the table covering.

And as you looked at him, you thought you could see that same irreconcilable sadness in his eyes, too.

—

taglist: @asta-lily @pedrostories @rpcvliz @xsadderdazeforeverx @elinedjarin @qhbr2013 @punkerthanpascal

#mywriting #the red wolf #oberyn martell x reader #oberyn x reader #oberyn martell #game of thrones #got #asoiaf

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candychronicles · 4 years ago

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elysian // s. daichi

A/N: my take on the Haikyuu Headquarters mythology nsfw collab! this was my first time writing for Daichi. i took a greek myth route and had so much fun!!

CHARACTER PAIRING: Daichi Sawamura x F!reader

WORD COUNT: 2,859

WARNINGS: manipulation, oral (F!receiving), mentions of several religions

SYNOPSIS: all your life you had been fighting only to end up at a boring 9-5 with nowhere to turn. Daichi has a proposition and you accept without realizing the consequences.

Want to read more myths and legends? Click here!

you were always fascinated with the idea of something larger than you, something so fantastical and great that it consumed the earth over and over again. while many people turned to other religions or no religion at all, satiating their own desires for redemption, love and acceptance, you chose to dig deeper, look at what truly resonated with your life and dutifully settled upon the greek gods.

they didn’t sugarcoat the bad things they did, that they used their power any way they pleased, that they were stronger, faster and larger than life. they were powerful gods who held powerful positions and were unpredictable, wild and fluid in their dance with humanity. you admired the stories from years ago of how they defeated the titans and split the land between the three sons: the skies for Zeus, the seas for Poseidon and the underworld for Hades.

Hades had always spoken to you in a way you couldn’t describe. when you worshipped him needing guidance, offering him dark chocolate and sweet, rich red wines, he complied with very little hesitation, always wanting to seemingly please you as long as you kept up your worshipping of him. he became quite moody, jealous and wouldn’t want to talk to you for days if you spent too much time interacting with the other gods. to be frank, you loved the attention he showered you with and felt at ease knowing he would protect you for life.

sighing, you pulled your apron tight around your waist, ready for another day at work slinging coffees and cakes to the less than pleasant customers that walked through the door. being a barista seemed like fun in cliche stories and movies but it was actually just another job that got you through your boring summer.

it only took an hour before people began screaming and shouting, angry at your lack of speed and pleasant smile on your face. it was just you and two other people there serving a line of ten plus at any given time and while you all tried your best, things never seemed to go the way they were planned.

“one large coffee, black.”

you took a deep breath before plastering a smile on your face, giving the man with the honey sweet voice a price and looking up, the smile threatening to spill onto your cheeks as you recognized Daichi, one of your favorite customers and now good friends.

“thought you might need one friendly face among the crowd of crazy,” he joked, tapping his sleek black credit card against the machine to pay, making sure to leave a hefty tip before nodding and walking away.

he sat for another two hours in the shop, nursing on his coffee and working on his laptop as he waited for you to get a break. when the line finally died down, your rushed from behind the counter and plopped yourself down in the booth across from him.

“what brings your handsome face around here?” you asked, tapping your feet against the ground as the anxiety of the day began to wear off.

“coming to see you as always,” he replied smoothly, downing the last of his coffee before placing the cup back on the table.

“you haven’t been around for awhile,” you pouted, not caring that you sounded desperate.

“i’m sorry but you know work can get oddly busy at times. how about i make it up to you? dinner, tonight at seven? my treat, anywhere you want to go.”

you gaped at him, not sure of what to say. you two had been flirting for months, the only friendly face you had really seen outside of the occasional older lady who always bought you a snack or drink for being so kind and patient with them. he was always sweet as candy, sugary words viscously flowing out of his mouth. at first you thought he was just some tightwad business man looking to get into your pants but as you got to know him, you realized he was just naturally kind, always looking out for the underdog. he treated you with the respect and decency that you deserved and maybe you were just so used to being treated like shit most of the time but his upfront and honest nature just blew you away.

before you had a chance to even reply, he looked at his phone, frowned and stood up.

“i’ll see you at seven, text me your address, yeah?”

with that and a gentle caress of your chin, he practically dissolved into thin air. you blinked once, twice, three times trying to process what had just happened before digging into your pocket to text him your address, not even remembering giving him your number but sure enough, there he sat in your contact with a simple flower next to his name.

the rest of the day went by in a blur and before you knew it, you were sitting on your couch, donned in your best dress, sparkling earrings dangling from your ears and shiny jewels adorning your body. you frowned as you checked the time, noticing it was already ten past seven. just as you were about to give up, you received a text from Daichi.

i’m sorry princess. something big came up at work. i’ll make it up to you. first thing in the morning, dress for the outdoors and bring a jacket, it’ll be a bit chilly where we’re going. i’ll see you then.

you huffed, throwing your phone down on the couch before stuffing your face in your hands, trying not to cry. you began methodically undressing yourself, taking off all your accessories and makeup, barely listening to the TV in the back drone on about some factory explosion that had happened in the next town over, killing two hundred people practically at once. you stopped to share some of the jewels with Hades, lighting his black flame and watching it dance in excitement, thanking him for never leaving you, even in the harshest of times. with all the makeup off, the dress peeled from your body and your shiny jewels laid on the table, you collapsed in bed, too tired and confused to dress yourself again.

a knock on the door had you scrambling off of your bed, hurrying to find a robe before peeking through the peephole to see who woke you up at such an early time on your rare day off. your eyes widened in surprise before squeaking, peeling the door open just a pinch to greet Daichi who held a rather large bouquet of flowers in his hand, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck and squinting his eyes as he held the petals out towards you.

“Daichi, i-”

“i’m real sorry about last night. crazy last minute meeting, totally unexpected. i promised i’d make it up to you though, right?”

you opened the door to him at that, blushing when you realized you were only in your robe before practically sprinting to your bedroom to begin getting ready. when you were ready, jacket in hand, you walked back out, a sheepish smile on your face.

“i uh, really didn’t think you would be here in the morning. thought you were just trying to lead me on or something,” you confessed.

“now doll, i think you know me better than that by now,” he chastised, standing up from your couch to offer you his arm.

you took it instantly, a bounce in your step as you followed him out of your apartment, listening to the door close with a resounding thud.

it took only a few minutes before you were sat in his sleek black car practically oozing with the feeling of money. you gingerly sat down in the leather seats, instantly feeling drowsy. shaking your head, you tried to fight it off but was stopped by Daichi.

“it’ll be a little bit of a drive before we get to where we’re going. you can take a nap, it’s okay. i’m a safe driver. i promise i won’t let anything bad happen to you.”

with his soothing words, you drifted off into a peaceful sleep, allowing yourself to be completely relaxed in his presence.

a small jerk woke you up and you blinked, looking out the window to see fields and fields of picture perfect flowers. you were practically surrounded by them, the only clearing being the dirt road you came on and patch of grass leading up to a hill.

“Daichi…” you breathed, speechless by the beauty of the location.

“c’mon, lets eat.”

you practically scurried out of the car, eyes wide as you continued to scan your surroundings. he dutifully began taking the picnic out of the car, setting down the blanket, basket, food and drink in a tasteful and elegant way. you absolutely melted seeing all the delicious food that was laid out for you. before you had a chance to eat, however, Daichi grabbed you by the waist, pulling you into his arms and looking you in the eyes.

“y’know, i’ve been absolutely fascinated with you since the first day i met you, all doe-eyed and innocent. the world has knocked you down so many times and yet you still get back up to fight another day. tell me, if i offered you a life of luxury, of eternal peace, full of love and richness, never having to work a day in your life if you didn’t want to, would you take it?”

you were taken aback by his words, not understanding where they were coming from. sure, you two had spent so much time chatting at your coffee shop, sharing your hopes and dreams with him, confiding in him like you would no one else, but you didn’t realize he had taken it all to heart, that he had actually fallen in love with you like you him. you didn’t even realize in that moment that you had even really loved him until he said those words, looked deep into your soul like he knew everything about you and then some.

“i mean, if you’re offering, yeah, i think i’d like a life like that, but maybe once i got to know you first,” you only half joked, wanting to know more about him, a sucker for an idyllic life.

“just say yes and you can spend all the time in the world getting to know me.”

“yes, Daichi, i would take it in a heartbeat.”

he surged forward with that, lips attaching to your own with such ferocity that you weren’t even sure what to do. he tasted like rich chocolate, wine and coffee, a delicious medley on your tongue as you reacted on instinct alone. something about this, with him, felt so right. your head was muddled with thoughts of Daichi and only Daichi, a man who was so mysterious and yet so supportive, always there when you needed him, seemingly popping up out of the blue on your worst days. listening to your problems with a frown on his face, doing everything he possibly could to make you feel better, never overstepping his boundaries and cherishing the time you spent together like there was no tomorrow.

he whispered sweet nothings in your ear as he took you to the ground, flowers crunching around your body as he laid on top of you, nipping and sucking at the delicate skin of your neck, relishing in the way you went breathless just from his lips alone.

“tell me that you want me, that you need me, that you worship me, that i’m the only man you’ll ever need,” he commanded, popping the buttons open on your shirt and ravishing your chest, tweaking your bare nipples in his hands, the cold shocking you to the core.

“you’re all i’ll ever need, Daichi,” you confirmed, too consumed in your own pleasure, wanting to feel more and more of him until he was all you could think of.

“let me take care of you princess.”

with that, he delicately pulled your shirt off, your pants coming down next, your underwear not receiving such a kind fate as they were cruelly ripped off your body. you gasped as you felt his hot breath on your thigh, squirming underneath his touch, the way his tongue danced along your inner thigh, flesh sinking in between his teeth. you whined at the way his cold fingers ghosted over your clit, just barely there but enough to make you go crazy.

“Daichi, please, i need you, please.”

he complied without resistance, his tongue darting out to kitten lick your clit, relishing in the way you instantly melted underneath his touch. you were absolutely enraptured with the way he felt against your body, the cool of his hand tracing seemingly meaningless patterns against your silky inner thigh, his other sinking into your heat, enveloping his digits with warmth, something he rarely felt, his tongue licking and sucking on your bud like your life depended on it. it was all too much, the feeling of him on top of you, doting on you like you were everything to him and you came suddenly, pulsating around his fingers, your own carded in his hair to ground yourself, tears leaking out of your eyes at the sheer feeling of him, only him.

he slowly calmed you down from your high, eyes never leaving his body as his fingers gently continued to pump in and out of you, his other hand continuing to soothe your body, kisses placed anywhere he could reach. when you were finally calm, he removed his fingers, still cold despite the warmth the received, and licked them clean, watching as your eyes rolled in the back of your head at the sight of him worshipping you.

“let’s get you cleaned up and get some food in you, yeah?”

he spent the next few minutes gently wiping you off, dressing you back in most of your clothes sans the underwear he destroyed, a sheepish and apologetic smile on his face as he promised to buy you a new pair, no matter the price. you shrugged your jacket on over your shoulders, finally noticing how cold it was, a chill running straight to your core as you tightened clothing around you.

after a few moments of catching your breath, you stood up with the help of Daichi, walking over to the picnic and sitting down, mouth drooling at the sight of food, suddenly ravenous.

“were you really serious about saying yes, about being mine forever?”

“like i said Daichi, i do want to get to know you better, but i can’t deny i’m not falling in love with you. something about you feels familiar, like you’ve been with me my whole life, like you know me better than i know myself. i feel so comfortable and safe around you. so yes, call me a dumb romantic, but i was serious about that.”

with a satisfied nod, he began feeding you, watching you closely as you swallowed food after food, a delighted smile on your face. you felt stronger, more relaxed, less cold and certainly happier eating and drinking, taking the time to really talk to Daichi, learn about him, his thoughts and feelings, some of his tragic past and your heart hurt more and more as you listened to him.

when all was said and done, you stood up, wiping the crumbs off your body as looked at Daichi, a smile plastered on your face.

“when are you taking me home?” you questioned, looking around the field to see if you could spot anything else to do.

“well, my dear, whenever you’re ready, i’ll show you your new home right away. after all, what kind of king would i be if i didn’t let my queen see her palace right away?”

“what?” you questioned, looking at him quizzically.

when he stood up, you noticed the whole mood had shifted and so did the world. the flowers, as bright and beautiful as they were, were no longer illuminated by a brilliant sun but rather a striking moon, darkness encircling your very body. you felt cold and yet not cold at all, like it was a very part of your being. Daichi seemed to stand immortally tall before you, an air of authority that was not there before. beautiful houses scattered the flowerbeds, people milling about, people from stories you had read to soothe yourself to sleep as you dreamt of one day being a hero of your own.

“Daichi, what is going on?” you asked, frightened and confused.

“well, doll, i did ask you several times to make sure but i knew in my heart that you would come to accept and eventually love this life as i have,” he started, gesturing for you to turn around to look out behind you, a whole world opening up in front of your eyes, “this is the underworld, i am Hades, you’re currently in the Elysian Fields, now that you ate the food down here, you are an immortal part of me and this, my queen, is your new home.”

#daichi x reader #daichi sawamura #haikyuu #haikyu #haikyuu x reader #haikyu x reader #hqhq #hqhq server collab

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leviackermanscleaningbuddy · 4 years ago

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BTS DRABBLE-Yoongi

@libtastic Thank you for inspiring this idea and for sharing all your knowledge. Story Time Yoongi belongs to you. Love you, boo. 💜

Yoongi has never thought he was the sort of dad to go to the library-of his own free will-and sit through a preschool story time. However, he’ll do anything to make his daughter happy, and if that means going every week to said story time, he’ll be there. And honestly, getting to interact with the cute children’s librarian-who he may or may not be developing a crush on-is not such a bad bonus. Whatever makes his daughter happy, right?

Tags: BTS, Bangtan Boys, Bangtan Seonyendan, Bulletproof Boy Scouts, Beyond the Scene, BTS x you, BTS x reader, BTS Drabble, Librarian AU, Librarian!Reader, SingleDad!Yoongi, Dad Au, Dad Yoongi, Min Yoongi, Yoongi x you, Yoongi x reader, Dad!Bangtan, Fluff, Min Yoongi x you, Min Yoongi x reader

Genre: Fluff

Title: Story Time

Yoongi doesn’t quite know what brings him to the library that day. Maybe it’s the fact that Hyejin is whiny and bored-stuck inside because of the cold, dreary weather-or because the song he’s currently producing is going nowhere and starting to give him a headache.

Or maybe it’s because of the iron like grip that Seokjin has on the sleeve of his coat-dragging him through the stacks of books-and the guilt inducing sentiments and pleading words his friend had thrown his way that morning on the phone.

Whatever the reason, Yoongi is here now-Hyejin clinging tightly to his mitten covered hand-and he’s already regretting it.

The library’s children section is decorated in brightly colored colored cut outs-pasted loudly across all the walls-and posters that boast pictures of smiling kids and adults, holding books in their hands accompanied by slogans that loudly scream, Read! It’s the smart thing to do! and Reading makes the world go ‘round!

Every single person on those posters looks way too happy to be here in Yoongi’s opinion, and it’s only heightening his headache, pounding behind his ears and into his temples.

“You’re gonna love Miss (Y/N), Hyejin.” Jin says, slightly out of breath, pulling Yoongi back from his annoyed thoughts, as the older man slows down to fall into step beside father and daughter, adjusting the baby on his hip as he graces Hyejin with a beaming smile. “She’s the best. So fun, and very pretty.”

Yoongi’s head jerks up, and he shoots his friend a glare, as Jin grins wider in his direction, and sends him a, exaggerated, knowing wink.

Damn it, Yoongi knew Seokjin’s intentions weren’t pure. They never were.

Yoongi doesn’t have time to subtly flip Jin off or curse him out before the story time corner comes into view.

A group of bustling, giggling toddlers sits in a circle of rainbow, plastic chairs, a feeling of anticipation in the air, as their mothers shush the overly excited kids, and remind them to use whisper voices-and Yoongi notes, slightly sourly-that there seem to be no other dads present.

His eyes drift over the small crowd, and he notices you then, setting up a table at the front of the group, and adjusting some pillows on the large, overly worn arm chair that sits in the center of said brightly colored chairs, surrounded and seeming completely at home among all the squirming, loud toddlers.

He does have to admit, as he trudges behind Seokjin-Hyejin eagerly pulling at his fingers as they look for seats-that you are really pretty.

Seokjin leads Yoongi and the kids to a corner, where he settles down into the hard plastic of one of the children’s seats, patting the one beside him as he raises a brow in Yoongi’s direction, where he’s still standing, feeling slightly out of place.

“Come on, sit down.” Jin encourages teasingly, as he shuffles his infant daughter around on his hip once more, reaching for her binkie where it has fallen to the floor, while simultaneously hushing his son, who is speaking a little too loudly and animatedly to the little girl next to him.

“Daddy, sit by me!” Hyejin pipes up, her clear voice floating above the others, as she tugs at Yoongi’s hand and looks up at him with wide, dark eyes, her black pigtails sticking out at odd angles from beneath her beanie. She flashes him a grin, so much like his own, all white teeth and pink gums. “Sit down, daddy!”

Yoongi sighs, and stifling his urge to roll his eyes, slides into the too small chair beside his daughter, managing to give her a smile, as he nods and says softly, “Okay, Okay Hyejin. Daddy’s sitting.”

“Mr. Kim!”

Yoongi’s head startles upwards at your voice, and suddenly, he’s caught off guard, as he comes face to face with you, standing in front of their group, a large smile on your lips, as you adjust the glasses on the bridge of your nose.

You’re looking at Jin, and his kids, not even in his direction, but Yoongi suddenly feels flushed, as if it’s a little too hot in the room. He reaches up to unwind his scarf, as Hyejin kicks her legs against the chair beside him happily.

“Ms. (Y/N)!” Jin replies warmly, sticking out his hand for you to take, as you shake it eagerly, eyes darting between him and the children at his feet. “It’s good to see you again!”

You laugh, and Yoongi think it’s the prettiest sound he’s heard in awhile-light and sparkling like the fresh snow that is falling outside the large library windows.

“You too.” You nod, and grin once more, before you crouch down to the childrens’ height, and reach out to pinch the Kim boy’s cheeks. “Hey, Jisung, how are you?”

“Good.” The little boy nods, and his eyes light up when you pay attention to what he’s saying and give a fond ruffle to his hair. “What’s story time about today?”

You smile, and give him a conspiratorial wink. “You’ll just have to wait and see.”

And then, you glance over in Yoongi’s direction-finally-and he’ll never admit it, but when your gaze meets his own, his heart stutters to a stop in his chest for a brief moment.

Jin must catch your curious gaze in Yoongi’s direction, because he’s hurriedly leaning forward, and almost too excitedly, exclaiming to you, “This is my friend, Yoongi. And his daughter Hyejin.”

“Hi.” You give a little wave in his direction, and it takes everything in Yoongi to form some sort of greeting to you in return.

That and the fact that Jin kicks him sharply-unseen-beneath the chair legs of the plastic seats.

“Shi-” Yoongi starts to swear, shooting him a glare, before he remembers that he is literally surrounded by children. Swallowing, he manages to pull the corners of his lips back into a tight smile in your direction. “Pleasure.”

“Hi!” Hyejin interrupts, practically bouncing in her seat, and Yoongi doesn’t miss the way that your face instantly softens and relaxes when you turn to address his daughter.

Maybe you’re a little bit like him, in the fact that he’s much more comfortable around children than he ever has been adults.

Something about overwhelming, pure honesty, and the fact that deception hasn’t been ingrained anywhere in their personalities yet.

“Hello.” You get down on your knees, carefully taking Hyejin’s small hand into your own. “You must be Hyejin.” You glance down her small, slim frame quickly, and your eyes alight when you smile broadly. “Wow. I love your cat sticker.”

Hyejin grins and proudly holds out the lapel of her winter coat, which is currently the home of a very large, very bright cartoon sticker of a cat, plastered with the words, Good Job!, across the bottom in bright pink letters.

“Thank you.” Her smile widens, as she glances up at Yoongi, and suddenly, he feels like he knows where this is going, and his cheeks are starting to warm. “I love kitties. Daddy looks like a kitty.”

Yoongi feels his cheeks flame brighter, as you glance over Hyejin’s head toward him, and a slightly amused look comes across your eyes, as you stifle back a laugh, and then tilt your head slightly, scrunching your nose in a cute way as you study him that has Yoongi’s heart once again faltering. “He kind of does, huh?”

Hyejin laughs, and you laugh with her, and Yoongi is startled-for the second time-at how clear and bright and pleasant the sound is.

“Well.” You pat Hyejin on the head and stand from your spot on the floor, glancing at the clock. “I need to get story time started. Do you think you can help me today, Hyejin?” You shoot her a look that clearly says you have a very important job for her.

The little girl nods, chest puffing out with importance and pride at your trust. “Yes.”

“Good.” You nod, and offering Yoongi a slight smile-as if the two of you are in on some sort of secret together-you make your way to the center of the circle, and clap your hands. “Okay, everyone! Welcome to story time! Let’s get started!”

******

You are slightly surprised to see Yoongi back again at story time the next week.

Sure, Hyejin had seemed to enjoy herself, and Yoongi hadn’t seemed to have had the worst time either, his eyes alight as he grinned softly and watched Hyejin participate in the songs, and books, and activities you had planned.

But Yoongi just didn’t come off as someone you expected to spend time in a library when he didn’t have to. Especially the children’s section.

But here he is-catching you off guard-as you glance over your shoulder from setting up to see Hyejin leading her father to their same seats from the week before, her brightly colored mittens clenched in his long fingers, her woolen hat low over her ears and eyes.

You straighten, and adjusting the last of the books on the table-Oh! by Kevin Henkes-you turn to glance at Hyejin, giving her a sneaky little wave, as she settles herself in her chair.

She giggles, and returns the wave, somewhat shyly, as she burrows into her father’s side.

Speaking of her father-

You let your gaze slip to Yoongi-a direct contrast to the bright feel of the children’s section-dressed in a long, black peacoat today, a knit cream sweater, and dark, ripped jeans, and you feel your breath catch in your throat slightly.

So dumb.

But the way his dark hair is falling over his forehead as he looks down at Hyejin-caramel eyes bright and attentive behind his black rimmed glasses-makes you feel some sort of way.

He’s a good dad.

And it doesn’t hurt that he’s also hot as hell.

Clearing your throat, you drag your gaze away from the duo, glad that he hadn’t caught you staring, and cheeks slightly flushed, you clap your hands to gain the attention of the preschoolers filling up the circle.

“Okay!” You grin, as the kids all turn their attention to you. “Let’s start! You glance behind you to the books set up on the table, and the various activities out on display. “Can anyone guess what our theme is for today?”

One of the little boys raises his hand immediately, and you point toward him. “Han? Yes?”

“Snow!” Han bounces excitedly in his chair, and his mom puts a hand on his shoulder with a smile, leaning over to whisper something to him, which makes him calm down, if only slightly.

“Yes! Good!” You clap again, and you can feel Yoongi staring at you, but you don’t lose focus.

Maybe he thinks you’re overenthusiastic or annoying or even a little crazy.

And you wouldn’t blame him.

But honestly, you just love this job.

You move on to read the first picture book, careful to take your time and show off all the brightly colored illustrations around the circle, doing silly voices and faces that make the kids giggle, and when you’re done, you sit back in your chair, closing the book, before you ask, “So. That was a good story huh?”

“Yes!” Hyejin’s voice rings clear above the others, and you glance in her direction, offering her a slight smile that you can’t hold back at her enthusiasm.

Without thinking, your eyes meet Yoongi’s, sitting next to his daughter, and your mouth goes slightly dry as he gives you the hint of a smile, his lips curling upward, as he cocks his head in your direction, a gesture that is oddly feline in nature.

You remember Hyejin’s cat sticker from the very first day, and hold back another, wider grin, as you turn back to the waiting group of toddlers.

“Now.” You reach behind your chair, and pull out a box, filled with soft, fabric white balls. “Who wants to have a snowball fight?”

********

Yoongi finds himself at story time the next week, and the week after that.

And before long, it is part of he and Hyejin’s regular schedule on Tuesday mornings. A natural hour that slides into the rest of their comfortable routine quite easily, which surprises him.

This week at story time, after you have read the last story and sung the farewell song with the children, waving them all goodbye until next week, Yoongi finds himself hesitating, not wanting to leave quite yet.

Hyejin tugs at the edge of his sweater, and when Yoongi glances down at his daughter, she’s watching him with eyes that clearly say she understands what’s happening. “Go talk to her, daddy.”

Damn her perception. She was too smart for Yoongi’s own good.

“I really don’t think-” Yoongi starts to make the excuse that you seem busy, putting away the materials, or that he has to take a call, or get back home to start work again, but before he can, you’re turning to them, a smile lighting up your face at the sight of them both.

“Did you guys need something?” You question curiously, and Yoongi feels his heart leap into his throat, as his eyes meet yours.

“Daddy wants to say something to you.” Hyejin states innocently, and Yoongi squeezes her small fingers within her own, as if to tell her to stop talking. She doesn’t spare him a single glance, as she scuffs her heavy winter boots on the floor and pushes forward. “He thinks you’re pretty.”

Yoongi chokes on his own spit. “Hyejin!”

He feels his cheeks flush hot, and he can tell you’re fighting back a smile, as you clear your throat, and kindly ignoring his startled coughing fit, crouch down before Hyejin, eyes soft and slightly curious, filled with amusement.

“Is that so?” You ask, but you don’t look up at him yet, and Yoongi is grateful for that, his whole face red and flushed, as he tugs mindlessly at Hyejin’s mittened hand, as if he can physically pull her away from spilling anymore of his secrets.

“Yup.” Hyejin nods, dark pigtails dancing across the slick material of the back of her bright pink coat. “He thinks you’re really pretty.”

“Hmmm.” You hum out, putting your finger against your lips-and Yoongi fights himself not to stare at your mouth with the movement-as you regard Hyejin seriously. “That’s interesting.”

You let a smile slip from between your fingers, and Yoongi feels his heart skip a beat. You lean toward Hyejin, as if you’re fellow conspirators sharing a highly guarded secret. “I think your daddy’s pretty cute, too, Hyejin.”

“You do?” Yoongi watches as his daughter’s eyes go wide at your declaration, and her mouth forms a perfect “o” of surprise and delight. She looks up at him then, tugging excitedly at his hand. “Did you hear that daddy? Did you?”

Yoongi swallows hard, and he nods. “I did, Hyejin.”

You stand up then, and your eyes meet his, and he swears, the smile that graces your lips, is the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

“So.” You start, reaching up to adjust your glasses. “Story time next week then?”

Yoongi nods again, this time more sure and confident, and he can’t help the smile that slips across his own lips at your words. “Story time next week.”

*****

It is several story times later when Yoongi surprises you once more.

You are ending the session, playing your classic closing tune “Skinamarink” happily and without care on your ukulele, missing some notes, but not even missing a beat, as you laugh and sing and lead the circle of dancing children around the corner of the library.

And today, when your eyes meet Yoongi’s briefly, over the heads of the wiggling preschoolers, you notice something. Something fond and affectionate in his expression, something in his dark, almond shaped eyes-as he watches you prance around and make a fool of yourself-that sends your heart skipping within the walls of your chest.

“Okay, okay!” You call out breathlessly, and not entirely from the singing and dancing. You clap your hands. “That’s goodbye for today, friends! See you next week!”

The story time nook is filled with bustling as the parents round up their children and coats and belongings, and you try to calm your still overly excited heart among the chaos by focusing on putting away your supplies.

But something tells you that Yoongi is still there, watching you with the same expression from earlier, and that makes your silly, stupid heart do dizzying circles once more, even as you bite your lip and try to focus elsewhere.

You are just finishing cleaning up the craft supplies, when you feel a tug on the edge of your dress, and glancing down, you see Hyejin, fingers curled around your skirt, looking up at you with wide, dark eyes and that gummy smile on her face that melts your heart.

The same gummy smile her father sports when he’s happy-an expression you have only seen in its full glory a few times over the last month-but an expression, that none the less, stops you in your tracks with its brilliance every time.

“Ms. (Y/N)!” Hyejin exclaims with excitement clear in her tone, as she shoves a carefully wrapped package into your hands. “I have a Christmas present for you!”

“What? No!” You gasp out with delight, sinking down onto the floor beside her, as you carefully inspect the gift that now rests in your lap. You note-with a flare of happiness in your chest-that there are carefully placed cat stickers covering the christmas wrapping paper. Obviously Hyejin’s touch. “Thank you, Hyejin!”

“Open it, open it!” Hyejin is bouncing on the balls of her feet with excitement beside you, and you hide away a grin as you do what you’re told, tearing into the wrapping paper, careful not to separate any of the stickers with your progress.

“Oh my gosh! Hyejin!” You exclaim as the paper comes away to reveal a copy of a children’s book entitled My Cat Looks Like My Dad by Thao Lam. Your mouth is slightly open, as you smooth your fingers over the crisp, new cover, and inspect the brightly, colored illustrated pages of the book. You can’t resist the urge to lift the new tome to your nose and take a whiff of that new book smell that you love so much.

You are touched, and suddenly, you feel as if it’s a little bit more difficult to swallow, as tears threaten to thicken your throat.

“I love it. Thank you, Hyejin.” You manage to say, your tone softened, as without thinking, you pull the little girl to you in a big hug. “Thank you, thank you.”

“You know why I got you that book?” Hyejin asks as she pulls back from you, and you find your fingers once more smoothing over the cover in your lap. You shake your head-though you have a good idea-and she grins happily, pointing to the title. “My dad looks like a cat too.”

You laugh then-you can’t help it-and it’s the first time you’ve looked at Yoongi since you caught him watching you during the ending song.

He looks so effortlessly beautiful-standing slightly behind Hyejin-hands deep in the pockets of his coat, watching the two of you with amber eyes, dark hair falling easily over his forehead and onto the rim of his wire glasses.

He shrugs slightly and offers you the start of a smile, and when he speaks, his voice is warm and deep and comforting, and you feel your heart speed up once again. “She picked it out herself.”

You let your gaze linger on him for another brief moment, and then shaking your head slightly, you glance back to Hyejin, flashing her a smile as you say, “I got you a present too, Hyejin!”

“Really?” Hyejin asks with surprise, her eyes going wide and round, as she watches you reach behind you and pull out a neatly wrapped pink and purple package, complete with shiny bow and a large cat sticker.

“Here.” You hand it to her, and watch with a smile on your features, as she rips open the paper, not sparing a second glance as it falls to the floor at her feet to reveal the children’s book you had picked out for her.

“It’s so pretty.” Hyejin says softly, and you appreciate the way she instantly runs her fingers carefully over the art on the cover of the book, tiny fingertips gently tracing the spine of the worn, older looking tome.

“It was mine when I was a kid.” You say simply, feeling emotional again,a s you watch the little girl in front of you admire the book the same way you always had as a child. “It’s called There’s Something in my Attic. I read it over and over. And I want you to have it.”

Hyejin spends another moment admiring the book, and then she throws her arms around your neck without warning, nearly knocking you off balance.

You glance once more at Yoongi over the top of his daughter’s head, and that same expression is back on his face, the expression that makes you feel safe, yet slightly nervous at the same time.

Jittery almost, as if he’s making you anxious, but in a pleasant, waiting for Christmas morning, kind of way.

When Hyejin releases you and sits down on one of the empty colorful chairs to carefully flip through her new book, you brush off your knees and stand, not really sure what to say next, as you and Yoongi stand staring at one another.

You clear your throat, but Yoongi beats you to the punch, stepping toward you and closing the distance between the two of you, before he holds out his palm in your direction, fingers unfurling to reveal a small, ribbon wrapped box in the middle of his hand.

“What’s this?” You ask, slightly suspicious, and you don’t miss the way his lips quirk upward in amusement at your question.

“Just open it.” He says, and his tone is slightly shy, as he glances away from you, biting on his bottom lip. “Hyejin got to give you her present. Now it’s my turn.”

You take the package from his palm-trying to ignore the way your heart starts to pound as your fingers brush against his own-and carefully undo the red ribbon that adorns the box, before slipping the lid off, breath held as you crane your neck to peer inside.

And when you see what’s inside the box-nestled among the folds of tissue paper and velvet cushion-you laugh, the sound surprised and genuine.

“What-” You start to say, as you slip your fingers beneath the cat sticker, carefully positioned on the pillow, and hold it up for Yoongi to see. “What is this?”

“Well.” Yoongi shrugs, his cheeks going slightly red, as he offers you a shy smile, and reaches out to take the sticker from between your extended fingertips. “I was hoping you’d wear this.” He must see the way your brows inch up, because he hurries to finish explaining, glancing down at the sticker within his hand. “And that I could take it as a sign that you’d agree to go on a date with me?” He ends the sentence in a question, his cheeks growing darker.

You bite back a grin at his rushed words, spilling from his lips as if he’s worried you’ll say no before he can finish. Because damn it all, this is the cutest thing you’ve ever seen. Yoongi is the cutest thing you’ve ever seen.

“Hmmm.” You step toward him, pretending to think over his offer, glancing down at your feet, toe to toe with his dress shoes, which he always seems to wear, regardless of the weather. And then you tilt your head to meet his gaze, and offer him the brightest grin you can muster. “I think I can agree to that.”

Yoongi’s features-held tight with stress-instantly relax, and suddenly, he’s grinning back at you, and you’re blinded by the sight of the rare, full gummy smile, that leaves you reeling and feeling like butterflies have invaded your stomach.

He leans toward you, and carefully placing the sticker onto the collar of your dress, smooths it down with steady, gentle movements of his long fingers, his warm, amber eyes-holding that look once again-locked with your own.

The corners of his lips have not dropped down from the smile he gave you earlier, and his fingers stop their movements on your collar, simply sitting on the fabric there, as he intones softly, “So, story time next week.”

And this time, it is not a question.

You nod, feeling so happy you’re lightheaded, and reach up to intertwine your fingers with his own where they still rest against your dress. “Story time next week.”

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serosbows · 4 years ago

Text

Cloud Nine

word count: 2k+

——————— sero hanta x gn! Reader———————

Sero spontaneously decides to let the bakusquad know you guys are dating during a smoke sesh. His boldness seems to be contagious what could possibly go wrong?

WARNINGS: 18+, recreational drug use, cannabis use, drug paraphernalia, swearing, suggestive themes

I understand that not all individuals are comfortable with the idea of smoking/ cannabis use I will be putting out more fics for you guys to read!

Minors do not interact!

Also- goes without saying this fic in no way is me condoning illegal activities. y’all stay safe and be responsible

I’m really sorry for any grammar/spelling errors, I am dyslexic n words be hard

Thank you for your support! Again please read at your discretion. <3

——————————————————————————

Friday nights.

The nights you and the Bakusquad would spend in Seros room winding down from the strenuous week of training, the smell of cannabis thick in the hotboxed room.

You’re not sure how you’ve always ended up in this situation, knee to knee with Sero as you work on breaking up the batch of the sticky green plant that Kaminari swore “was the best shit” he bought. Yet, here you find yourself working in tandem with the raven-haired boy as you hum along to some song he has going on his phone.

“Can you hurry it up already?! I want to get this party started”, Kaminari whined as he watched your fingers impatiently. “This takes time and precision,” you retort back, “respect the craft for a second!”

Leaning back on his hands, Kaminari pouted and looked over at Kirishima who was fiddling with the many empty chip bags scattered around him and Mina. “Don’t look at me, dude! Just wait patiently! We all know Y/N rolls best”, Kirishima chirped.

As if the man got shot point-blank in the heart with a revolver, Sero clutched his chest with an exaggerated gasp, “how DARE YOU”, he seethed at Kirishima who bashfully shrugged. “You would pick Y/N’s rolling over mine?!” Sero yelled, shoving an accusatory finger towards you. Kirishima whistled in what was his attempt to be nonchalant, trying to avoid any further questioning from the now “big angy Sero”. (as you have come to call the puffed out cheeks and pouting lips he is now showing off).

Since this ritual started, you and Sero have found comfortable solace in each other. The calming, open nature of the tape boy had you falling head over heels for him faster than you could realize.

Luckily for you- he felt the same way.

The night he asked you out was forever engraved into your mind, the thought forming a smile on your face anytime you recalled the event.

The bakusquad had just packed it up, deciding to call it an early night, leaving you and Sero alone to continue the smoke sesh on Sero’s plush bed.

You remember that when he started arguing with you about how long you took to prepare the blunt for smoking, the sultry tone in Seros voice began to show. The sudden change had you realizing how thick the air around you two seemed to be.

“Bet I could do better in less time”, Sero said smugly, leaning into you. His movement had you adverting your eyes from your fingers and upwards, the movement leaving Sero’s nose only a few inches from yours. “W-What?”, you choke out, unsure if you heard him right.

His proximity had you inhaling his scent. Was it lemon? No. It couldn’t be, you deduced, it’s not as potent as a lemon, but it sure was some sort of citrus. Sero leaned back, pulling away from you. “I’m just saying. You take forever to roll sweets,” he said shrugging his shoulders.

You hurriedly collect yourself, attributing your absent-mindedness to Seros intoxicating scent. Shaking your head to come back to reality, you resume rolling the blunt. Sero almost worried about your silence, shifts worriedly.

When you looked up at him through your eyelashes, your fingers holding the almost rolled creation delicately, a sly smirk on your lips he was sure he was sent to heaven.

Sero was only brought out of his trance-like state when you groaned and laughed, “Okayyyyy~ sure. Whatever you say Hanta!” you said, adding an exaggerated eye roll for emphasis. “You know everyone prefers when I roll, you just get salty about it.”, you continued as you looked up at him once again, licking the paper of the blunt.

The way your tongue darted out to lick the paper in such precise little stokes had Sero losing his mind. Sure he thought you were attractive, but right now, the way you were looking up at him through you pretty lashes with your tongue out had him going nearly feral.

Trying to contain himself and his sudden change in body temperature, he retorted, “Hey! That's not true they just say that to be nice!” He proceeds to try and put on an angry face, puffing out his cheeks and pouting, scrunching his eyebrows for good measure.

“Awe~” you cooed looking at the literal baby in front of you. “Don’t get all worked up now big angy Sero! You know you LOVE when I roll.”, you said as you took the first hit of your creation.

The smoke filled your lungs with a pleasant heat, the high you originally had become more pronounced. Before you could blow out the stagnant smoke in your mouth, Sero grabbed your face with his hand, placing his lips on you with ferocity.

Your eyes widened. Was he trying to shotgun with you?? The smoke poured out of your mouth and into his, your body beginning to go slack as you finally fell into the smoke filled kiss.

You don’t know when you closed your eyes but they opened as Sero pulled away, blowing the smoke back in your face with a small chuckle.

You let out a few coughs and swatted away the smoke clouding your field of vision. When the cloud cleared, you were met with a red-faced Sero.

“I,,, Uh,,, I-I’m not sure why I did that….I’m so sorry.” Sero rambled on, trying anything he could in his power not to make eye contact with you.

You leaped at this cliche moment, pushing Sero back on his bed and straddling his waist. His hands instinctively landed on your hips. He looked up at you with wide eyes, unsure of what to do at this moment.

In a quick motion, you held the hand with the blunt in it behind you and leaned down to kiss Sero. The kiss left your body feeling weightless, your lips molding with his perfectly. His hands resting at your hips, giving them a light squeeze before his thumbs began to trace light circles on the skin over your shirt.

“‘Bout time you made a move Sero”, you said smirking down at him as you pulled away. “Hanta”, he corrected, “you’re mine now mi amor.”. Sero smiled and pushed himself up to place a light kiss on your forehead.

You let out a small chuckle, using your free hand to cup his face. “Then prove it…” you purred. The smirk on Seros face had you quivering with anticipation, a new wave of heat taking over your body.

Needless to say, the blunt was stamped out and you thanked every higher power in existence that no one found it odd that you were wearing Seros hoodie as the exchange in clothes between you two was common.

That night you came to the conclusion that it was tangerine and cinnamon, Sero smelled like tangerine and cinnamon. A scent that you would come to be addicted to.

If it wasn’t for the hoodie, the bakusquad would have for sure seen the many marks Sero had left on you so he could properly mark you as his.

When you came back from your flashback the rest of the group seemed to blur into the background as you focused on filling the blunt, eyes trained in on making everything even. In your peripheral vision, a certain raven-haired boy could be seen inching closer towards your face.

“Can I help you?” you said with a smirk, not looking up from your activities. “No, no, don’t mind me. Keep doing what you’re doing. You look so pretty when you’re rolling baby~”, Sero said in a low sing-song voice that only you could hear.

Your hand movements halted immediately and your eyes widened.

Sero hasn't called you anything like that in front of anyone??? You enjoyed hearing the pet name come from his mouth, yes, however, you two have yet to make your relationship public.

“Sero…”, you warned, “you cant be distracting me right now.” Sero seemed to pay no mind to your words, coming in closer and placing a hand on your thigh. “At this point, I don’t care, sweets, we’ve been dating for... what? 4 Months now?”

A hand grabbing your chin startled you. Sero moved your face so he could make direct eye contact with you, his thumb runs across your lower lip, “let them know.” The devilish smirk on Seros face made your stomach drop. “Come on, you know what to do”, He whispered. You nodded and took his thumb in your mouth. Sero nodded in appreciation and basked in the feeling of your tongue running around his finger.

He pulls his thumb out of your mouth when he hears Bakugou yelling. “I TOLD YOU SHITS I WASNT THE IMPOSTER”, you look over to see everyone look up from their phones, thankful that among us kept the bakusquad from seeing the previous encounter with you and Sero.

“That means its Kaminari or Sero then because I was in electrical.” Sero furrowed his eyebrows, “What, I was AFK- yall SAW me breaking up the weed” he yelled. Kaminari huffed, “You know its not me!! All of you SAW me do the med bay scan.”

You, having been killed off the first round watched as a smirk formed on Mina’s face, rolling your eyes at her obvious lies that Bakugou and Kirishima have seemed to buy due to the accusatory looks being thrown their way.

As the common ‘defeat’ sound rand out, you began to lick the paper of the blunt, your fingers working deliberately to make the best creation you can.

“Yeah!! Lick that shit baby. You look so good doing it. I know what else that mouth can do” Sero yelled, you flinched a little, unsure how the bakusquad would react but if Sero was being bold you might as well join.

A spitting sound was heard next to you as Bakugou whipped his head towards Sero. “BRO!!! DONT GET THE SHIT WET!” Kaminari yelled as he grabbed the open bag of weed that was nearly ruined by Bakugou’s spit.

“What the fuck did you just say?!” Bakugou yelled. “I think you heard me. I didn’t stutter. Plus I’m just praising my baby!”

“WOAH, WAIT! WHEN?!” Mina squealed.

“Sero got a date before me?!?!” Kaminari whined.

“You’re joking,” Kirishima said

You worked to silence the group, “First of all…” you started, “Sero.. you said that shit in front of my blunt bro...Disrespectful as FUCK. Second of all yes, we’re dating, we have been for 4 months.”

“5 on the 14th!” Sero continued as he placed a hand on your head, messing up your hair.

You laughed and shook him off, flattening out the hair Sero just ruined. “Yeah yeah…. Now give me a kisth” you said while looking over at Sero who happily obliged.

The kiss was quick but it left you weightless. Pulling away, Sero began to move you around. “What are you doing??” you said as you took another hit of the blunt. “You just sit here.” He said as he placed you between his legs, his arms coming to wrap around you, his chin resting on your head. “I want to hold my precious baby”

The softness in his voice would have the rest of the bakusquad thinking Sero was just trying to be cute and show affection. You would have thought the same thing if it wasn’t for the evident hard-on pressing into your back.

You smirked, an idea coming into your head. Passing the blunt to Bakugou, you placed both hands in your hoodie pocket. In one smooth movement, you gripped the left sleeve with your right hand and inched your left arm out of its cozy confinement.

Lightly dropping your arm to your side under the hoodie, you slipped your hand behind your back. Dropping your head back on Seros shoulder and turning your nose to graze it across his neck. “You keep quiet and maybe ill help you with your problem, yeah?” You whispered as you began to run your hand over the tent in his pants.

Seros breathing hitched, his grip on you tightening. He didn’t stop you however, the feeling of your fingertips grazing the skin above his pants and slowly dipping under his waistband had him intoxicated.

He just hoped he could follow your orders and keep quiet.

#sero hc #sero x y/n #sero x reader #sero hanta #bnha writing #sero smut #sero hanta x reader #sero hanta x you #stoner!sero #bnha x reader #gn!reader #sero x gn! reader #this is my first fic #i am terrified #plz let me know what you think

366 notes · View notes

lovemesomeharry · 5 years ago

Text

MAKE YOU MINE

Warnings: Curse words, angst, smut

Words: 8.6k

Summary: Harry and Y/N have been friends for a long time until Harry catches feelings and everything gets worse before things get better.

Y/N had always seen him as a star, always shining bright in the most devine color. Everybody knew and saw that he was the sharpest one among everyone but he would never dare to brag about it. To him, everybody was shining too and that just made him even more beautiful.

That's why Y/N loved to observe him. Whether it was him on stage, singing his soul out, and losing control in the best way possible just to make the crowd go wild and become alive.

Or he could be working and his best friend would try to remember in which angle the tip of his tongue stuck out between his rosy lips and his nose would twitch slightly when he was whispering his written words to himself just to let it taste on his tongue.

Or it could be in a situation like this one right here. Y/N watched him how he interacted with people, slightly tipsy, giggling too much and awfully affectionate. Those adorable dimples appeared on his cheeks as he flashed a wide smile to anyone that came to his sight. She couldn't hear what he was saying but it didn't prevent her own smile from appearing on her face as if she’d been a part of the conversation. Even if Harry was telling one of his usual bad jokes, everybody would still end up laughing because it was Harry who told them and he was so damn good at selling those awful jokes.

Y/N wouldn’t say that she was the opposite of Harry, but no one has ever come close to Harry’s charm and his approachable body language. He was a people's person and no one could deny it.

As the night went on Harry kept on drinking and became cuddlier, gigglier and his need to talk to his beat friend grew immensely.

Once he had spotted her a wider grin adorned his face if it was possible at this point, and anyone must have wondered how it didn't hurt to smile like that. He hadn't seen much of her because he was too busy chatting up the other guests, but he was about to change that.

“Y/N.” His words were slurred and a giggle followed right after he was successful at scaring her by approaching her from behind and nearly shouting into her ear.

She turned around, with a pouty mouth, and slapped Harry’s tattooed arm. “Why would you do that, asshole?”

Harry rubbed at the place where she had slapped him, even though her hit wasn't hard and he wasn't really in pain. “Ouch! You’re so mean. I just wanted to talk to you.” With his finger, he tapped the tip of her nose. “Wouldn’t have come here if I knew you were gonna be a meanie to me.” He moved his face right in front of hers and she could totally smell the alcohol he must have in his system.

“What do you mean? When have I ever been nice to you? I can't stand you.” Now she was grinning from one ear to the other as she watched how Harry’s faced dropped. She loved to mess with him but when he was drunk it was a lot funnier. His brain couldn't comprehend the sarcasm and it made him believe that she was saying the truth.

His eyes lost his previous spark and the corners of his mouth were turned upside down as he let the one curl fall onto his forehead to cover up the crease forming between his two eyebrows.

He looked so adorable, but of course, Y/N wasn't the one who would tell him that.

“Take that back.” His tone was demanding but whiny and he crossed his arms in front of his chest as he took a step closer to her. He strengthened his posture but in his drunken state it just looked too funny and Y/N couldn’t help but laugh at his poor attempting to be intimidating. It just made him even more unhappy, as he put both of his hands at each side of her head and pressed his hot skin on the cool wall, coming so close to her that their noses almost touched.

She felt his hot breath on her upper lip as she shook her head. “No, I never liked you. Deal with it.”

Both were staring at each other and totally forgot the people around them and what situation they were in. The only sound they heard was their own heartbeat as they canceled out the rest of their world.

His green eyes looked at her slightly opened mouth and for a short moment, he hesitated before he pressed his lips to hers. She let out a surprised squeak when she felt his soft mouth on hers, sloppily kissing her. The kiss was short and she couldn't really comprehend it when he let go of her. “How do you like me now?” His voice was deep enough go make chills run down her spine and she couldn't believe what just happened.

He really kissed hee, his best fucking friend. She could still feel his soft mouth on hers and taste the bitter alcohol he had previously.

Y/N felt like as if she was dreaming, but when Harry just walked away she knew it wasn't one. In her dreams, he never walked away afterward.

She didn't really know what to make of this situation and tried to keep a cool head but the fast-beating heart in her chest made it not an easy task.

Would he remember him kissing her? Was he going to regret it? Are things going to be awkward between them from now on?

As bad she wanted to reminisce the kiss and do this again, she was scared that their friendship was hanging on a thread. So her enjoyment was cut short painfully for the rest of the night.

When Harry came by her house with fresh croissants and two coffees Y/N swore her heart stopped for a second.

He looked not as happy as he did a few hours ago and dark shadows painted his skin right underneath his eyes. He looked so tried but tried to cover it up by wearing a beanie and a gigantic hoodie. But it just ended up making him look even more tired and cuddly at the same time.

Y/N really wanted to focus on his looks but after what happened yesterday she hadn't had a chance to talk to him about the kiss. It was making her crazy not knowing what was going through the brits head.

The small voice inside her head told her he was going to regret it. He’d let go of her and wonder how he could have ever done that. He was going to call her names, or at least that's what her head told her. Even though she knew exactly Harry would never go as low as to call her names, she still feared the possibility. Even if it was.t his nature. Besides she wouldn't know how to feel if he’d ever been so rude to her. It would entirely mess up her confidence because she cared about his opinion too much for her own liking.

“Are you ok?” He had asked after staring at her for a solid minute and her not catching him doing so. A worried look took over his soft features as both of them sat down on both ends of her white couch. Much to Harry’s displeasure who wanted her to sit closer to him.

“What?” She shook her head as if she was trying to get those thoughts out of her head. “I’m fine.”

Suspiciously Harry raised his eyebrow. “No, you're not. You’ve been awfully quiet, love.” His leg was bouncing up and down and his entire body sank into the couch. He looked relaxed and Y/N wondered how he was so calm when inside her she was in such troubles. How was he so calm when it was his fault that she was in such a troublesome situation?

She was going to ask him about the kiss, but he was a bit faster and began to speak. “Is it because I kissed Naomi?”

Now Y/N’s head perked up. “Naomi?”

He nodded his head. “Yeah, I was a bit too drunk and kissed her. She texted me this morning asking what that meant.” He sighed as he pat his left leg. “It was so awkward. I had to explain to her that I didn’t think much of it.”

Y/N tried to listen to her best friend as he went on about it, but she couldn't really listen anymore when the small voice laughed at her. Of course, he didn't think much of it and he probably doesn't think much of the kiss they both shared, apparently on the very same night too. But she couldn't help but wonder if he could assume what she was feeling for him? Did he kiss anybody else? Could he still remember their kiss the way she did?

Why would he when he could have anyone? Harry always loved the attention he got from girls and was just taking advantage of his situation.

But Y/N just wished he wouldn't have brought her into this mess, because her heart was too fragile to come out without any bruises.

He's actually gonna try to let it go. He asks his heart to beat slower each time, but he can't get it right when he sees her in front of him.

With her wide smiles, her bright eyes and the loving charisma that she radiates so naturally, everywhere and at all times, it is impossible for him to keep a clear head. And if he is completely honest with himself, he does not want to keep a clear head when it means that she will not take up most of the space in his brain.

Ever since he had first heard her voice, it had echoed in his ear. Day and night. But it was not a nightmare. On the contrary. Her soft voice sounded like his new favourite song that he could listen to in a continuous loop without ever being saturated by it. Fuck. He would even play it at his concerts, he loved it so much.

That's how beautiful he thought she was.

He never wanted to admit to himself that she had his vulnerable heart in her hand and could do whatever she wanted and he wouldn't stop her. She could ram thousands of knives through it and he would thank her with a painful smile.

He felt pathetic. He felt so helpless. But most, he felt so stupid.

But it got worse when his eyes gleamed with jealousy. The sparks that sparkled for her were mixed with the gasoline that his jealousy fed him. A menacing fire was seething inside him, ready to spread. But it was not a fire of passion that spread a pleasant warmth in his body, but something that could destroy everything around him.

Harry was never a person who longed for revenge or liked to see others suffer. He is really not a sadist, but in that moment he became one.

Because a stranger dared to touch his Y/N where he should not touch her. He wanted to stomp to them and drag him off her.

But he could not do that.

First of all, that wouldn't do him any favors, because it would be just what the the press was waiting for. They already loved to fabricate the wildest stories about him, so, he didn’t really need to give them the satisfaction of a real story.

And second, the more pressing matter, she was not his Y/N. At least not in the way that he would like her to be.

That's why he leaned against the cool wall, sipped on his beer, and watched the two of them with eyebrows drawn together instead of doing anything. At least for now he decided to lay low.

He didn't even understand what she found attractive enough about him to let him talk to her. The stranger seemed like a lowered version of Michael B. Jordan, yet he seemed to be able to make her laugh. Her eyes always sparkled with the stars and Harry wished so much that he was the reason for it and not the prick in front of her.

Jealousy clouded his vision because Y/N felt that the stranger in front of her, whose name was Nick, was not a condescending version but came so damn close to the actor that the sight softened her knees. He bared his straight teeth when the opportunity presented itself and she could swear that she saw her own reflection in them.

“Would you like to continue this conversation in private?” Nick asked, coming dangerously close to her ear. She smelled his strong perfume and felt his hot breath tickling her skin. She sucked the air sharply and bit onto her lower lip as he graced her earlobe. An exciting sensation ran through her sensitive body parts but mostly, she could feel the tingling sensation between her legs. It had been too long since she’s been with a man.

Her fingers ran up and down the edge of her glass as she nodded. She tried not to appear too excited, but she didn't suspect she was doing a good job, as a playful grin spread across his handsome face.

The more she was pleased, the angrier her best friend became, still staring at them with an eagle eye, as if he was ready to grab his prey any minute before anyone else got the chance. Harry couldn't hear what she was saying, nor could he lip-read, which he regretted at that moment, but his alarm bells began to ring when the stranger stood up and took her delicate hand in his.

It hadn't taken him a minute to act and if his brain hadn't been completely clouded he would have thought he was foolish. How could he run after a girl who is only his best friend? She gets to go anywhere with whoever she pleases. Even if it was a Walmart version of an actor.

As he stood just inches away from the guy, he realized what he was doing and how ridiculous he probably looked. It's not like he didn't has his fair share on body counts.

But before he could change his mind, Y/N glimpsed at him with a questioning look. She raised her left eyebrow, almost as if to ask him if everything was okay.

Harry wanted to say no, even scream it out loud. But he choked out what was going through his mind at that moment. “I-I've lost my car keys.”

In his mind, he threw a bunch of curse words at himself and he would have absolutely no problem if a black hole appeared underneath him that could suck him in.

“What?” He heard Y/N's confused voice and the stranger finally looked at him. On his face, Harry could see the amusement again. Of course, he thought Harry was a fool and he, too, admitted to being one.

He swallowed the lump down his throat. “I can't find them anymore.” Harry had no intention of making that sentence sound like a question because it made his obvious lie even more obvious.

“Is it in your po-”

“-No” He nearly blurted it out. “You got to help me.”

Y/N looked sceptically at Harry. She knew him well enough to be sure he would never lose his car keys. He could lose his rings, but he would never lose his car keys. His car collection, which consisted almost entirely of vintage cars, was his pride and joy and he treated them like his own children.

Visibly annoyed and irritated by his actions, she sighed. “Are you sure?”

He just nodded and she struggled with the urge to ditch him to have her fun with Nick. But how could she be so heartless and abandon her best friend, even though he lied to her straight on without batting an eyelid? But somehow his eyebrows furrowed and the nervous lip chewing had gotten to her. So she turned to Nick with an apologetic look, but he understood the situation completely and put a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

“I’m so sorry.”

He laughed. “Don't worry about it. I get it.” For a brief moment, Nick looked at Harry and put his best smirk on his face to show him he understood Harry's true intentions. But that didn't stop him from whispering something into Y/N's ear and gently kissing the spot behind her it.

Harry's eyes were about to fly out or Nick was about to fly across the room. He couldn't decide what would happen, but his guess was on the second one.

Y/N nodded after the stranger and when her eyes finally met Harry's they suddenly became cold and annoyed. A shiver ran down his spine when he realized that and he really knows which fuses were blown that he had freed her from that guy.

“I have seen the keys-” he started, but Y/N interrupted him with a horrified laugh.

“Cut the bullshit, Harry. I know you didn't lose your fucking keys.”

He had to swallow hard, but his throat still felt dry. He thought about what he could say to her, but her annoyed look somehow cut off the oxygen to his brain. So he was forced to take his emerald eyes off hers and instead looked through the crowd in the club that was already staring at them.

“Can we settle this somewhere else?” With his painted index finger he pointed in the direction of the curious onlookers, which is why she agreed.

It was at moments like these that she completely forgot who he really was. He is not just her best friend, a colossal pain in her ass, but also an A-list celebrity.

Harry exhaled the hot air, and gratefully grabbed her arm to pull her along.

He pulled her all the way outside, where the cool air whipped Y/N's skin and she only now realized how stuffy it was inside. The glowing moon stared down at them as Harry ran to his car. As they stood in front of it, his eyes drilled holes in her head and she raised her arms on her hips.

“Cat got your tongue?” She first broke the tense silence.

It took a moment longer before he finally found the ability to think clearly again, but his eyes were too busy marveling at her delicate features in the moonlight. He had to admit that the light made her look even more magical and her skin practically glittered. He tried to turn his eyes away from her, but she looked so ethereal and it didn't help him that he got to see so much of her soft skin. To do himself a bittersweet favor, Harry opened his car door with the supposedly lost key, which made Y/N laugh sarcastically and get into the car after him.

She was right.

“I didn't lose my car keys.”

“No shit, Sherlock.”

He reached his hand through his frizzy curls, which were slightly sweaty. “The guy was... weird.” He sighed slightly frustrated with her for not dropping the topic but also himself for getting into the mess he was currently in.

“Weird?” Y/N asked, sounding almost amused. “He looked like Michael B. Jordan, for fucks sake!” She couldn’t believe her best friend, because she was usually the one telling him if a person seemed off but he’d ignore her advice. So who did he think he was for rescuing her?

Harry didn't like the feeling that was brewing inside of him that could cause a series of hurtful words to leash out of his mouth. So he simply bit the inside of his cheek. Of course, she thought he looked like him.

“He only wanted to shag you.“ His deep voice spit the words out like venom. Both of his hands gripped the steering wheel hard enough to make his knuckles more visible.

She scoffed. “I was obviously looking for a husband at a club, right?” Y/N rested her back against the soft Italian leather and turned her head to notice his clenched jaw.

He really hated it when she was sarcastic with him and even more when she rolled those pretty eyes of hers.

“Why are you so pissed, H? Not that I ever cockblocked you.”

He tried to stiffen his breathy laughter, because she had no idea what she was doing to him. She did, in fact, do that, just not in the same way Harry just did and maybe it wasn’t fair of him to blame it all on Y/N because she had no idea what was going through his head. But yet Harry felt like she should know that she's living in his daydreams with him, that she's the first thing he thinks of after waking up and the last person to fall asleep to. He occasionally dreamed of her and as the nights got lonelier he’d imagine her laying beside him. He couldn't even shag anyone without thinking of the incredible girl sitting on his passenger's seat right now. He would compare every girl he tried to get into his bed to her and sometimes, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't take the stranger back home, because his heart was aching for somebody else. So yeah, she was a cockblock to him. The most annoying one he's ever had.

“Actually you did. Remember how Chloe was apparently using me for fame?” Chloe was the blonde and bubbly girl who was all over Harry just a few days ago when he and Y/N went to the gym together. She was all over him since the minute he stepped foot into the gym and even though he could see Y/N’s glaring stare on them he flirted back. His best friend even tried to warn him, but he shrugged it off and went through with a bathroom quickie.

And what makes it worse: Chloe wasn’t the only one. There were many more like her.

Thinking back he really didn’t understand why he had done all those things when he was never interested in those girls. Or maybe he does know why. He wanted to make Y/N jealous. See if she would give him any sort of reaction, but that never came. So now thinking back he didn’t understand why thought it was a good idea playing with peoples hearts and give them the two minutes of fame that they craved so badly.

She looked at him with disbelief. “She was! But I guess I’m sorry for caring about your reputation?” Her head slightly bounced off the seat as she crossed her arms in front of her chest. “I really don’t understand why it’s such a big deal who I shag.”

And honestly Harry wished he would feel the same way, but he just doesn't.

“Because you shouldn’t spread your legs for every guy.”

And Harry wished he just didn't say that.

Her delicate features twisted with anger as she straightened her posture so she could have a better look at him. She wanted to make sure that he really said those words but to her dislike he did.

A bitter taste lingered in her mouth and her whole facial expression turned sour.

“Excuse me? You’re calling me a slut, when you're the one with a new girl every week?” She raised her voice and truly couldn't believe how the conversation progressed from his ‘lost car keys’ to him accusing her of such things.

Harry’s tense fingers gripped slightly at his wild curls, obviously unhappy with his poor choice of words. “That’s not what I mean.”

“Then fucking enlighten me please? Because right now you’re acting like an asshole!” Her heart was beating rapidly and with each heartbeat, she felt a sharp pain shooting through her entire body. Of all people, she would’ve never expected Harry to insult her and make her feel dirty. Almost as if she was easy to have when it was most definitely not the case. But his little accusation broke her heart and her self esteem in a way that she had to question every decision she has made so far.

“It’s just” He started not really knowing where to go with his words. “I fucking like you.”

She sneered not catching on the real meaning behind Harry’s confession. “I like you too, but I don't walk around and call you a man whore.”

How could she be so stupid sometimes? He really wanted to ask her that. Because it was hard enough to admit that once but having to explain it to her was so much worse.

“You don’t get it, Y/N. I really like you.” He watched her face carefully as the panic spread through him. He can’t believe he told her like that, or at all.

Y/N was confused. So extremely confused and angry. Not for lying to her, cockblocking her or initiating that she’s a slut, but for the fact that he had the audacity to do this to their friendship. Once again. She barely had gotten the kiss out of her memories.

“You’re drunk, right?” She picked on her nail polish, slightly taking small bits of it off as she started at him with disbelief. Why couldn’t he just lose his car keys? “This is a joke.”

He didn’t know what to say to her anymore, so he stayed silent and took his eyes off of her.

“Harry, you always do that.”

“Do what?” Now it was his time to be confused.

“You’re not into me. You’re just bored.” She sighed heavily. Y/N didn’t want to reveal what she was thinking of his love life knowing that he wouldn’t like it. But at the end of the day he’s a relationship person. It wouldn’t be too bad if he wouldn’t fall so fast for the first person who gave him a little bit of attention. Because when he’s single he’d get all lonely and eventually falls in love with the first person he sees. It has always been like this, that’s why Y/N refuses to give in to him and let their friendship take the fall. Because Harry never got anything out of these relationships, besides a broken friendship and always a broken heart. “You always do that, you know? H, you just want attention.”

Harry thought he’d be able to smile if she’d slice his heart open, but the little cuts are already painful enough to make his eyes tear up if he wouldn’t fight it. “So my feelings are not valid and I just want attention?” A bitter laugh left his slightly quivering lips. “I think I got enough of that.” He shook his head at himself for letting those words slip out of his mouth. He knew she didn’t feel the same but at least she could’ve let him down less harsh. “You could’ve just said you don't feel the same.”

“Trust me you won’t feel the same when somebody else comes along.” He will, or at least that's what he thought. But it hurt like hell hearing her not taking him seriously.

He started the engine of the car without shooting a single glance her way because looking at Y/N would make him feel worse and he didn't know how much strength he had inside of him to not let his tears appear at this waterline.

He felt stupid. He felt humiliated. But mostly he felt so incredibly broken and scared.

He always knew him and Y/N was never going to be a thing because she didn't feel the same. How could she? She only saw him as her friend and Harry knew she deserves someone better. Someone who could give her the world, when Harry would have to hide her from it.

But Harry was so scared as he took her home and a million thoughts were running through his mind. He probably changed everything between them but he hoped he wasn’t going to lose her completely.

But he couldn't help to wonder if he just ruined their friendship?

It had been a little bit over a week since Y/N had last seen Harry. He dropped her off at her place and before she could say a thing he drove off again. So everything was left unspoken between them when all Y/N wanted to do was to talk it out with him. But she was scared. She didn't know how he’d react or if he'd want to talk to her.

And she’d understand if he didn't.

She knew she hurt him. That was her intention. She knew he would’ve stuck to his feelings if she didn't push him away to save their friendship.

They had come a long way and she wasn't sure if it was worth it throwing their close bond away for Harry’s small interest in her.

She’d be lying if she said the thought never crossed her mind. In fact, it did way too often for her own liking. It was just too hard to be platonic with him when he was too good at using his charm on her.

But at the same time that was another problem. He did it with everyone. So how could Y/N be certain he wouldn't get tired of her after they'd let their feelings take the upper hand?

No matter how hard she tried to ban Harry from her thoughts he’d always find his way through her thick skull. It was impossible for her to forget him when the image of his pained face was still haunting her and the only sound she heard was his strained voice.

She just hoped he as doing alright. That he wouldn't take it too personally and would get over it. The best-case scenario would be that they could laugh about it one day and would wonder how he could ever think to have feelings for his best friend.

But for them to reach that stage one of those stubborn people would have to give in and Y/N wasn’t sure who would be brave enough to take the first step. It has never been her strong suit and neither was it Harry’s.

Y/N spent her whole afternoon by being lazy. A quality she had started to be familiar with. It took her a while till she actually got out of her warm bed and before she really kicked off her day, she had a quick scroll through Instagram. But she regretted that almost instantly.

Pictures of Harry and a blonde girl were plastered all over the internet and she couldn't help but narrow her eyes at the familiar face. Chloe.

She bit the insides of her cheek a little bit too harshly as they seemed very cozy with one another at a concert last night, both of them dancing and hugging each other in a way Harry never did with Y/N. His hands were a little bit too low and her mouth came his dangerously close, but there weren't any pictures of them kissing, which made her sigh in relief.

She shut down her phone and threw it onto her bed and crawled underneath her blanket.

Y/N knew she shouldn't trust whatever she saw in those pictures because a bad angle could make anything look fishy. She experienced this firsthand when she and Harry became friends. Everybody seemed to believe that something was going on between them and an innocent hug could be interpreted as a passionate goodbye of two heartbroken lovers.

But no matter how hard she tried to tell herself that those are just pictures and no real confession, her brain wouldn't let her believe it.

If Harry liked her so much he would try to talk to her instead of waltzing to the next best thing. Y/N knew how he was and she’d predicted the unavoidable outcome. Sooner or later Harry would've become bored of her and leave her for someone new, someone more exciting and their friendship would be at the exact same place as it was at that moment.

She didn't like how both outcomes predicted how her heart would beat painfully in her chest and she wondered if Harry’s heart felt that even if it was for just a second.

It’s been exactly 22 days since Harry and Y/N last interacted with one another and Y/N couldn't help but count the days herself. She doesn't know when she picked that up along the way but at least it was getting easier for her to get out of her bed in the morning. So she thought it was better for her to look at the bright sight.

Besides she was happy to not have seen any more pictures of Harry and Chloe. So she believed it was nothing serious to him, even if the little voice echoed in her head how they both have gotten better at hiding from the rude photographers. But even if they weren't going out anymore she wouldn't be shocked. When has something like this ever meant anything to him?

But she banished those thoughts as she tried to go on with her everyday life.

Y/N really couldn't believe how much he was actually involved in her life. It could be an ordinary situation where she saw something cute, took a picture of it and her hand immediately swiped to Harry’s name so he could have a look at it himself. It happened without her knowledge and if she wasn't so fast she might have sent him accidentally a message already.

But it wasn't just that. It would happen if she got a coffee before going to the gym. Even though she had to go to a different café after changing her gym to avoid running into Harry. She’d order two drinks before it was too late and she stood their like an idiot wondering what she should do with the bullet coffe she hated but he always drank.

And what was more embarrassing was the fact how she would always think of Harry first, before she thought of anybody else, including herself.

That’s why her heart broke every day a little bit harder instead of trying to heal itself, but she slowly learned to get used to the heart ache.

But the sudden realizations kept her up all night and she wondered how she could've missed the signs when they were lying right in front of her very own, and apparently very blind, eyes.

Maybe it was because of her blind eyes or her slowness after working multiple hours without catching a break or her not being able to fight back the urge anymore after doing so successfully for 22 days that she sent Harry a picture of a cute dog she had found on Instagram.

When her brain finally processed what she had done, the horror on her face was obvious. She tried to delete the message but to her misfortune Harry had already seen it.

The grey bubble appeared which made her stop breathing as she waited anxiously for his response. Was he going to tell her to delete his number and leave him alone?

Harry – 09:34 PM

Can I come over?

Finally, Y/N let some oxygen inside of her again. She had to debate a bit with herself and tried to make up an excuse why he couldn’t come over. But she decided against it.

Y/N – 09:36 PM

Sure

She wanted to add a ’please’ but decided against it as she didn't want to sound desperate.

After she had sent the message her legs were bouncing up and down and she’d casually get up and rehearse a conversation that might happen.

She was nervous. She was so extremely nervous because she didn't what he was going to say.

But she knew what she had to say. She would do anything in her powder to avoid ending their friendship because the last few days had already felt like hell to her. How was she supposed to live like that for the rest of her life?

And when he finally rang her doorbell her mumbling stopped and she stared at the door trying to look if it really was Harry behind it. But she had no supervision so she began moving towards it. With unsteady steps, she opened it up to reveal a distraught looking Harry.

His puffy eyes looked even darker and heavier compared to when he was hungover and the little beard he grew made him more attractive but also proved that he hadn't been taking care of himself in a while, as his hair also looked a little bit greasy from where she stood.

They both just stared at each other, unable to exchange words but Y/N had hoped that she looked better than him. But she couldn't be positive about it because she wasn't exactly taking care of herself either.

Still, in silence, she opened the door a little bit wider to let him come him. When he did she caught a small whiff of his fresh cologne and her eyes wanted to tear up right at that moment.

She had missed him so much that just his scent made her already feel more at ease and all she wanted to do was to collapse in his chest and let him pull her closer by wrapping his strong arms around her body.

She wanted him close to her again.

For a moment the silence still remained and their were staring at their feet before they both started talking at the same time.

“I’m so sorry.” Did the two of them say at the same time with the same pain lingering in their voices.

He looked up first with an hopefull expression. He was so scared that she wouldn’t say anything and simply tell him to get his stuff out of her place. He was fearing for a text like that for so long, even today when her name popped up in his notifications. But once he saw the dog picture he was able to relax a bit and didn't hesitate when he asked if he could come over.

Now they were both standing there and hoping that it wasn't the last time they'd see each other.

“No, don’t be. It's my fault.” She started to say, still looking at her feet and playing with the hem of her sweatshirt as she stood there awkwardly in the middle of her living room, not knowing what to do with her body. “I shouldn’t have dismissed your feelings.”

A minor pain shot through his body as he remembered the heartbreaking memory. But he couldn’t be mad at her for doing so and just by looking at her he was sure he would never take that personally, especially after initiating that she was easy to have. “I-I know you don't sleep around and you don’t open your legs for everyone. I’m sorry about that. And lying to you.” He shook his head as she tried to speak again and at the fact that he actually said all those things to her.

“And I’m so sorry for being so bitter after the kiss. I should have not let my anger out on you. You were drunk.” She finally dared to look into Harry’s conflicted face. His hair was a little bit longer than she remembered as his curls seemed to tickle his neck and the patchy beard made him look more mature than he did before.

He furrowed his eyebrows. “What kiss?” Harry’s brain tried to remember when the kiss could have happened but there were no memories of him kissing the girl in front of him. He was sure he could not forget kissing an angel, or could he? “We kissed?”

Y/N nodded. “Yeah, at the party?” She bit her lip and tried to play it cool. “You kissed Naomi on that day too.”

“Wait a minute, I kissed you too?” As his brain started to work and a distant remembrance popped up when he pressed his lip to Naomi’s in a drunken state. But he could not remember kissing Y/N, but he wishes he did. “How could I forget that?”

Y/N laughed trying to ease the situation when the tension was becoming too much for her. “It’s not like it meant something to you.”

And with that, she did not only hurt her heart but also Harry’s, who actually showed her what an effect her words had on him. “Is that why you think I’m not being serious?”

Y/N didn’t want to nod her head. She didn't want to give him an answer he was waiting for so long. So she didn't, even if both of them could stop cutting deeper into each other's hearts.

Slowly Harry got closer to her. The wooden floor underneath him creaking with every step until he was close enough to touch her face gently and make her look at him. “Naomi doesn't matter. Chloe doesn't matter. No one does. But if I remembered kissing you, I would be over the moon.” His heart was beating at high speed as he confessed his feelings, hoping that she would too if she was into him. “Because you do matter to me.” With his last part of the confession, he pressed his forehead to hers and tried to hold her close. His eyes closed shut and he focused only on her breathing.

Y/N’s feelings were all over the place. She was happy. She was scared and she felt nauseous. Was this all happening? Was the guy she has been crushing on for a few years now finally confessing his feelings for her?

“You don’t remember the kiss?” Her voice was hoarse when asked and Harry almost immediately shook his head. “Shall I refresh your memory?“

His eyes were about to bulge out of his head and his hands gripped her face a little bit harder. He stepped away from her a little so he could see the sarcasm on her face. But she wasn't joking. She was being sincere and once Harry realized that his lips came crashing into hers.

His feathery lips sucked on hers before he opened his mouth a little and teased her with his tongue to let him in. Once she did he wanted to moan into her mouth at the sweet taste she provided him with. Her hands were roaming in his hair and he didn't even notice when she slipped his beanie off of his head and started tugging at his curls.

This is all he ever wanted. That is all she ever wanted.

She was amazed by how soft his lips were and he couldn’t grasp the fact that she tasted sweeter than her scent and so much more addictive after getting a taste.

Slowly Y/N started to walk backward until she felt the couch on her legs. She pulled Harry on top of her when she sat down and hungrily continued the kiss after the short break.

His hands were sliding down her face, her neck and eventually came to a halt as he touched her hips to keep her steady. He can't imagine how she let him kiss her again. It all felt like a dream to both of them and they were not ready to wake up anytime soon.

He slipped his lips off hers, trying his best to catch his breath, before trailing kisses up and down her neck. Her small hands we're still playing with his curls and when she started to pull at them he moaned into her neck. He had waited so long for this to happen.

Y/N pushed her chest into his and once he pushed her into the soft cushions he continued to kiss her body. His kisses we're short but he didn't forget a single spot to love. She watched him with hungry eyes as he began to move lower and lower until he was between her legs. He looked up between her thighs, finding Y/N in a needy state. “Is this ok?”

She nodded and waited patiently for him to continue.

“Talk to me, love. Tell me.” His voice sounded so soft and she could swear she felt a tingle between her legs because of his voice and the nickname he had used.

“Yes. Continue, please.” He giggled at how breathless she already sounded and because of those big eyes she made.

“Your wish is my command.” His fingers slipped off her grey shorts and he had to stiffen his laughter as he saw her Spongebob panties.

Her face heated up and her cheeks were painted a faint rosy color. “Don’t laugh. I wasn’t expecting for this to happen.” With both of her hands, she covered up her face, clearly embarrassed. But Harry couldn't care less what she wore, in his eyes she always looked ravishing and like a goddess walking this earth.

“Don’t hide your face, love.” He moved his body up again, just to stroke her cheek and looked deeply into her eyes. “You look absolutely stunning.” The intensity of his stare made her knees weak and goosebumps run up her spine.

She nodded her head when he leaned down and planted a soft kiss on her lips. “Let me make you feel so pretty.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “Let me make up for what happened.” He kissed the heated skin of her forehead and stroke her hair behind her ear. “Let me make you mine.”

She nodded again, but when he rose his eyebrow she expressed herself, how he requested from her. “Make me yours, Harry.” With a smirk, he kissed her lips slowly, bit onto her lip, and pulled on it, which earned him a small whimper from her. A breathy laugh left his mouth and with his right hand, he slid down her body and gripped the hem of her panties. One last time he searched for disapproval or even just hesitation in her eyes, but when he could not find that, he dove right into the action.

His hand slit into her underwear and he started to rub small circles on her clit. He was soft at first, very careful and he didn't want to destroy his flower, his little petal, who looked too good for him. Who was too good for him. She closed her eyes and through her open mouth, quiet moans slipped through it. Harry was too focused on her delicate features to pick up the speed, only when she took his hand and started grinding on it, he started to put all his energy to make her feel good.

His long fingers pinched her pulsating clit and he could feel how wet she had already gotten, as his fingers started to slip. “Do I make you feel good?” He looked at her with those dimples appearing in his cheeks and he realized at that moment that he wanted her beneath him so many more times in his life. Only her, for the rest of his life.

“Yes.”, she moaned as his finger teased her wet slit. ”I need more.”

“Tell me what you need.” She opened her eyes, looked at him pleadingly as she moaned out his name. Harry swore he could cum if he saw her like this again.

“Want you inside me.” She kissed Harry’s cheek and moved her kisses along his sharp jawline, desperately searching for his soft spot. But before she found it he held her head back, to make her look at him.

“Not today. I need to make it up to you, angel.“ With that he lowered himself until his face was right between her thighs. With anticipation she bit her lip and stared at the green eyed boy, who was slowly removing her underwear. Her face was heating up, and the electricity she felt, whenever he touched her, made her want him even more.

“God. You’re so pretty.” He admired her one last time before his hands found her swollen clit to play with. “You’re so wet for me, baby.” He moaned and felt his own pants tightening around him.

His circles became rougher and faster and she couldn’t help but grasp his hair in her fists. Low moans escaped her mouth and she couldn’t help but arch her back.

“I want to taste you so bad.” He breathed on her pussy. “Can I taste you?” He looked up from between her legs to catch a glimpse of her nodding her head in ecstasy.

“Yes, please.” It didn’t take him long until he licked her slit clean before he focused all his attention to her clit again. With his plump lips he sucked it in and swirled his tongue around it.

Y/N jolted up from the pleasure she got and tugged at his hair to pull him closer to her. He let out a breathy laugh only intensifiying her feelings when she felt his mouth vibrate against her. “Harry.” She moaned as his fingers found their way to her wet entrance. He parted her lips and buried his tongue inside her again for a quick taste before he let his fingers do their magic.

At first it was just one, then two, before he started pumping his fingers in and out of her and he kept his mouth on her clit. Sweat was forming on his forehead and Y/N tried her best to keep his hair out of his face so she could see him whenever he looked at her. Her walls started clenching around him and her legs were starting to get tired.

Harshly she gripped the mattress and tried her best not to scream when he hit that spot inside her that made her see stars.

“You’re so thight, baby.” Harry moaned after he flicked his tongue over her clit harshly and his fingers were picking up on speed. “Do you want to cum, love?” She nodded her head, eyes closed, much to Harry’s dislike. “Talk to me.” His movements came to a halt which made her thrust her hips forward desperately.

“Please, Harry.”

“Please, what?”

“Please make me cum.”

He laughed before he buried his head between her legs again and began to eat her out as if she was his last meal and she couldn’t help but let her legs shake, and those moans out, when she felt the beard scratch her on all the right places. Harry was painfully hard himself but hearing and tasting her made him almost combust in his pants.

When his fingers picked up speed and she pinched her own nipple, her walls began to thighten around him and with one last moan she let herself go. “Fuck. Harry!” She closed her eyes shut, her back arched off the white material and helplessly she tried to breathe again.

Harry watched her with such adoration in his eyes as she came down and gave her pussy one last kiss before he held her face in his hands. She didn’t care that he was still covered in her juices and smeared it in her hair.

With a playful grin he looked her up and down and once her breathing calmed down a bit she gave him a small peck on his dimple, making it deeper on his cheek. Butterflies erupted in both bellies and a giddly feeling made both of them feel warm inside. With his thumb he stroke her cheek and rested his forehead on hers again.

“Are you mine now?”

#harry style fluff #harry styles fic #harry styles blurb #harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles smut #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles writing #harry styles oneshot #harry x reader #bestfriends to lovers

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thewhitejournal · 4 years ago

Text

“The Intern” Part Three

Aaron Hotchner x Female!Reader

(not my gif)

hello all! i am so sorry for the wait, i know it’s been quite anticipated by some of you. i just got a little stuck but hopefully things are rolling again and going my way with the story so, please enjoy! :) the first part is here and the second part is here in case you haven’t read either yet.

feel free to message me/comment if you want to be tagged in future updates :)

content warnings: minimal cursing, light mention of abuse and violence

disclaimer: i am not a writer for criminal minds so therefore i cannot write the details of a case to save my life. i hope you can enjoy it despite the fact.

The pilot helped you halfway up the stairs to the jet; you walked with caution so you didn’t get your heels caught on a step. Boarding the jet, you turned to your right and walked into the cabin. All the teams’ eyes were on you, including Aaron.

“You all know our intern, (Y/N) (Y/L/N). I’ve invited her on this case, she’s on the team for now so treat her as such.” He told the rest of the team sternly. They all muttered things like “you got it” and “of course”. It made you smile. They were all very accepting of you already.

Morgan, Reid, JJ and Prentiss were sitting in the four chairs that faced the table, files and pictures spread out all over it. Rossi was on the couch, legs propped up on it as well. The only spot left where you could converse with the team was next to Aaron on the loveseat. You watched your feet as you walked past him, sitting down next to him. You still didn’t make eye contact with him, just the four that were currently discussing the case and their theories right in front of you. You tried watching him out the corner of your eye, but you couldn’t get a good look, and you didn’t want to be too obvious either.

“Maybe there was some kind of trigger with the original Oakland County killer? Reid, what do you know?” Derek asked; all eyes were on Spencer now. Spencer sighed, shaking his head.

“The Oakland County Child killer was never caught. They had a DNA profile, but it didn’t match either suspect or anyone else in connection with the case. So there’s no way to tell.”

“So this probably isn’t an exact copycat, right?” Despite your nerves, you spoke up. The teams’ heads turned to look at you. You were still trying to learn, but that didn’t mean you weren’t afraid to mess up in front of them. They were the professionals.

Derek shrugged. “Probably, that’d be my guess too.” Some of the other guys nodded their heads; you didn’t miss the upward twinge on Hotch’s lips. You weren’t sure what that meant, but surely it was good, right?

“Morgan and Prentiss, you’ll go to the crime scene, see if there’s any type of signature on the body or at the scene. Dave and Reid, I want you to go talk to the parents, see what you can find out. JJ, you, (Y/N) and I will set up at the station.”, Hotch said. At the mention of yours and JJ’s name in the same sentence, you two made eye contact. She gave you a bright smile, and you returned it. You liked her already; her energy was so pleasant to be around.

Of course, you didn’t slide over the fact that Hotch said your first name so casually; your heart fluttered at the sound of your name on his lips. The team nodded curtly, gathering the contents of each file and compiling it again. The jet would be landing in about an hour, and everyone resorted to their forms of ways to pass the time.

Morgan plugged in some headphones and laid against the seat, getting lost in whatever was flowing through those speakers. Reid pulled out a book, flipping through the pages at a speed you couldn’t do while also understanding the material. Rossi opened the file again, eyes flickering over all the material. JJ held a light conversation with Prentiss about their personal lives; you didn’t listen in, even though they were among everyone else and it wouldn’t have necessarily been considered rude.

Your leg was crossed over the other, body facing away from Hotch, but you started to lose feeling in the leg on the bottom, so you switched, crossing your ankles. Your body shifted closer to Hotch; this was entirely coincidental, but he changed positions at the same time you did. He brought his knee up and sat in a way that his leg was against your thigh. You’d expected him to move, but he didn’t. You felt frozen; sure, you didn’t mind the physical contact, even something so small. The thing you were really worried about was the team or even Aaron noticing that you were flustered, so you tried your best to keep your feelings under wraps.

Distracting yourself with the case file seemed like the best option at the time, so you opened it up and read over all the details again, gory and sad as they were. Suddenly, it felt like Aaron moved even closer to you. Surely he was teasing you or something at this point. You decided to take the risk and look over at him, but not before making sure the rest of the team was preoccupied first.

He was reading a book; you couldn’t tell what it was, but the size of his hands made the book look so tiny in his palm. You watched his fingers move so gracefully as he turned the next page, and you looked up at his face. His light brown eyes moved back and forth as they took in every line on the page, but suddenly he slowly turned his head and looked at you.

You wanted to look away, but it was like you were in a trance of some kind. His eyes searched your face, and he looked different than usual. His expression was soft, like how you’d seen in the picture on his desk of him and his son. He looked genuinely relaxed; even though you hadn’t known him long, you knew this was very rare. The left corner of his lip twinged upwards into a tiny smile, and how could you not return it? The exchange was small, but not to you.

You both turned your attention back to the reading material in your hands, a smile on your face. There was one trying to show on his lips, too.

The ride to the police station was short; Aaron drove while you and JJ sat in the back. She made conversation with you about your life and you asked about hers, which you didn’t mind. But all you could think about was Aaron was listening to every little detail you shared about yourself, gaining knowledge about you while you had little to none about him. And it’s not like he probably wouldn’t have figured out most of these things on his own; it is his job, after all, to figure people out. He was damn good at it too.

Hotch parked the car out front and you all got out. He held the door open for you and JJ, but you didn’t walk in first. You left that up to either Aaron or JJ. Hotch took the lead, which did not surprise you in the least. The sheriff greeted him almost immediately.

“Hey, thank y’all so much for coming up. It means the world to us. I’m Sheriff Bradbury.” The two men shook hands. Aaron turned his body so you and JJ were more visible to the sheriff.

“These are agents Jareau and (Y/L/N).” Your heart felt like it was going to burst; he introduced you as ‘agent’. You’ll admit, the sound of it was nice to hear. The sheriff reached out to shake yours and JJ’s hands, giving you an acknowledging nod.

“Everything you requested is just in that room there.” Sheriff Bradbury gestured to an empty conference room with a whiteboard standing against the wall and a box of what you assumed to be the case files and other information you hadn’t yet been provided with.

“Thank you.” Aaron told him, giving him a curt nod and walking to the room, you and JJ in suit. There were only about three or four boxes on the table, which didn’t seem like much to you, so that was a relief. Some of the boxes were files and evidence from the case that the current unsub seemed to be copying; most of the boxes were older. There seemed to be not much information on the newest case. But you were sure that was going to change soon.

Hotch thought it would be a good idea for a pair of fresh eyes like yours to analyze the older case files, so he started showing you what to look for and how easiest to find connections between the two cases. He said he would help you look over them because the information on the ‘77 case rivaled the files on the new one in an outstanding amount. JJ started combing over the finer details of the newest case but watching the two of you interact at the same time.

Aaron sat in the office chair next to you, looking over and perceiving the information in front of him much quicker than you could. You had to keep reminding yourself that he did this every day, and this was your first time. Being next to him calmed the nerves you had wiring inside you though; it was unexplainable. Something about his presence was just so...right, to you.

After having settled into your seat and your role, for the most part, you realized it was a bit chilly in the conference room. You pulled your blazer closer to your body, clasping the button on the front. JJ unrolled her sleeves and buttoned them at her wrists, attention never breaking from the papers in front of her. The slight chill to the room seemed to have no effect on Aaron, which didn’t surprise you. He was still reading over the file in his hand, dark brows furrowed on his forehead.

A sudden shiver went down your spine.

“It is kinda chilly in here, hm?” JJ remarked, rubbing her arms. She pulled her suit jacket over her shoulders. You just chuckled at her statement. You liked the little small talk and the fact that with each passing second, there was no awkward silence. Suddenly, Aaron sat the file that was in his hand down on the table and pulled his arms from his jacket, removing it. JJ raised a brow slightly at this, watching his next move. You were too, just trying not to make it as obvious.

The jacket was in his hand now and outstretched to you. Your face began to heat up. JJ watched for your reaction, but Aaron didn’t look over at you.

“Thank you Hotch, but I’m okay-“ He interrupted you. He looked over at you now, a soft look in his eyes but the small stern look still on his face.

“I insist, (Y/L/N).” Shyly, you took it and draped it over your shoulders, returning to your work. Mostly so that your face was faced more towards the papers and not to him, just in case your cheeks were red. As you turned away, you swore you saw a little smile on his face.

“Thank you.” You mumbled. He hummed in an acknowledging tone.

The jacket was warm, almost a bit overwhelmingly so. It smelled like him, too. The actual smell was hard to place, but it made sense that that’s what he smelled like. Maybe a little bit of cinnamon and vanilla, oddly enough. It was a very cozy and homey smell, and you loved it. You resisted the urge to snuggle into it; you imagine it was almost as good as actually hugging him.

Some time passes as the three of you read over the material in front of you. You read some police reports of some of the suspects in their younger years; they acted out quite a bit. The main suspect was the focus of your attention; he had been charged for things like vandalism, arson, all the way up to domestic disputes with his girlfriends. It didn’t make sense to you. These activities usually describe several different types of unsubs, not just a single one. Not all of these crimes usually fit in with one type of killer.

What was also strange to you was the fact that the original killer strayed away from one gender in his victims; the reason why was usually harder to put a finger on. There’s usually no sexual motive behind someone like this. You were just remembering things from what you’d seen at the beginning of some of your textbooks. The types of killers you might see and how they act. That was about all of the information you had on them though; your further work went more into the technical side of things. You liked being in the field, but you felt useless. You didn’t have the kind of knowledge the rest of the team did about this type of work. Hopefully, you could contribute, you thought to yourself.

“Anyone find anything?” Hotch spoke up. This was your chance. Even though you hadn’t found anything solid, it was still something. But you waited to hear from JJ first. She sighed, shaking her head. Aaron looked over at you. You cleared your throat.

“I saw that the main suspect in ‘77 had a lot of charges in his youth, but they’re all over the place. I just don’t think it makes sense.” Your eyes didn’t leave the paper in front of you. But the two agents’ gazes were on you. You felt it was probably best to meet their eyes, as much as you were surprisingly afraid to meet Aaron’s. You looked up, eyes meeting JJ’s first.

“I mean, he was charged with arson and domestic violence, several times for both. We don’t usually see unsubs with so many outlets for their rage, right? Usually, they just pick one and stick with it.” You looked over at Hotch. His eyebrows were knitted together, but his body language suggested he was open to your ideas. One arm propped up on the table, the other resting in his lap, his body turned towards you. The palm of his hand that was on the table outstretched, motioning for you to hand him the file. You complied immediately.

He read over it, seeing what you meant. “She’s right. Usually, it’s either physical violence or arson, not both.” JJ nodded in agreeance.

“So what does that mean?” You asked aloud to no one in particular. Suddenly, Rossi and Reid enter the room. Your body froze, not because you were cold this time. You remembered Aaron’s jacket was still over your shoulders. You shrugged it off so that it fell behind your back, hopefully before Spencer and Rossi could notice.

“The parents said Nathan was on a gaming website where chat rooms were available and that’s likely how the two met. The unsub probably lured him out that way. He likely asked Nathan to meet him in real life under the ruse that he was around Nathan’s age. Was that Hotch’s jacket?” Spencer stated, then asked the question as if it were nothing. Your face started to grow red and JJ tried to hide a smile. Before you could object or try to say anything in defense of yourself, Aaron spoke up.

“The unsub has evolved, its unlikely it can be the same unsub or anyone close to them. The original suspect would’ve continued luring his victims without any technology, stuck to his ways.” You saw Rossi smirking at you and Hotch, realizing Reid’s observation was correct.

“So this unsub is like a modern-day version of the original?” JJ asked. You agreed silently, as did most of the team. They continued discussing the details of the case and new things they’d found, along with Derek and Prentiss who’d just entered the room a minute or two ago. They talked about what they saw at the crime scene, which wasn’t much. You couldn’t focus on anything they were saying or if you had anything to contribute, plus you weren’t sure what to say. You had zero experience with how to work an actual case, you’d only done a couple of exercises at the beginning of your classes.

“(Y/L/N)?” Hotch’s voice pulled you from your thoughts. It was just the two of you in the room, for the first time. You hadn’t noticed the rest of the team had left. You looked over at him, shaking your head internally. How could you be so out of it, in the middle of something so important? Maybe you were better off as a tech analyst, as much as you wanted to be as close to Aaron and the team as possible.

“Sorry, I guess I got kind of preoccupied.” You pinched the bridge of your nose, sighing and closing your eyes.

“With what?” Aaron asked you. You scoffed lightly, turning and getting his jacket from behind you and handing it to him. His brows were knitted together as they usually were, but his eyes were a softer brown, filled with something you might place as concern. He reluctantly took the jacket, draping it over his knee. “Is everything okay, (Y/N)?”, he questioned again. Your heart skipped a beat at the sound of your first name on his voice.

“I don’t think I’m right for the field.” He didn’t answer you; he just sat there, listening for what you had to say. You sighed. “I never know what’s right or wrong to say,” you continued, “I don’t know what it means when an unsub acts the way they do or anything that you all are already skilled in. Maybe I would just be better in Quantico, behind a screen.” For some reason, it felt like a confession. You felt guilty, maybe that you’d disappointed him in some way.

“(Y/N), I’m not going to tell you where to go or what to do. Go wherever you’re more comfortable, there’s no pressure. But while you’re here, I want your head in it. Can you do that?” You only nodded, hardly meeting his eyes. His hand rested on top of yours, pulling your eyes to meet his.

“I’m here for you.” He said in a low tone with a small smile, patting your hand. You returned the smile, looking into his amber eyes. Something in the air sizzles between the two of you, but you can’t quite place what the feeling is. But it feels mutual.

He stands, pulling his jacket on. “We’re going to check into the hotel, do you want a ride?” He starts gathering his briefcase and all the files he was looking at together.

“No, I think I’ll just walk.” You say slyly, flashing a smile at him. He looks concerned for a moment like he didn’t realize you were kidding. But then he chuckles, looking at the floor. Your smile grows wider at the fact that you made him laugh.

“Come on, (Y/L/N).”

“Yes, sir.”

tags:

@dilaudidwinchester

@awriterincrime

@art-and-thoughts

@royallybookish

@bihoeofmanyfandoms

#fanfic #fanfiction #literature #romance #original story #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds oneshot #criminal minds #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #criminal minds fic #thomas gibson x reader #thomas gibson #david rossi #spencer reid #jennifer jareau #emily prentiss #penelope garcia #derek morgan

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ladyeliot · 4 years ago

Photo

Sparky

Valentine’s Day (Prompts)

Request: Anonymous: #10 & #1 from the Valentine's day prompts with Tony Stark please. I was thinking of something similar to the Nat & Bruce scene in age of ultron. Like Tony & the reader are teammates both like each other

“Will you be my valentine?”

“What is a girl like you doing in a bar on valentine’s day?“

Pairing: Tony Stark x Fem!Reader

Summary: After the events that transpired during the Chitauri Invasion of New York you couldn't take it anymore and chose to go your own way, like the other Avengers. Now three years later you are reunited, but there are too many hidden feelings between you and Tony. (Based on the sequence from Avengers: Age of Ultron, during the party).

Warnings: Flirting, Angst.

Word count: 3290

A/N: Sorry for my spelling and grammatical mistakes, English is not my native language, I am learning.

It could be said that you would never know what the word majesty means if you didn't go to a party hosted by the "Genius, Billionaire, Playboy, Philanthropist", Tony Stark, at his Tower. There was no other situation in the world that better described the splendor that your eyes could discover there, or at least that was what they used to talk about in the social environment to which he belonged.

It had been hard weeks of work, and surely the next weeks were going to be even harder, so there was no better excuse to revive the social life than to organize a small party among friends on Saturday night, that's what Tony had called it, although it was far from being small, and most of the attendees you didn't even know. It wasn't that you weren't sociable, well, actually that wasn't the best word to define you, but what you couldn't get rid of were all those thoughts about the events that happened the last time the whole team had met.

It had been three years since you were all together, you knew that something big was about to happen, otherwise you would not be there again, you would have continued your life away lost somewhere in Indonesia hoping to find peace and tranquility after the Chitauri invasion, but you would never refuse to return when someone asks for your help again. Besides, seen in another way, going back to meet them does not always bring negative consequences.

"[...] I fly up to the general's palace, drop him at his feet and say 'Boom, were you looking for this?" laughter began to erupt around you, as Rhodes smiled proudly at the story he had just told.

You on the contrary showed a small smile trying to interact with the people around you, but you had barely paid attention to his words, your thoughts were elsewhere, even so, you realized that your martini must have evaporated, because your glass was completely empty. You got up from the sofa, keeping your eyes fixed on a bar that was waiting to offer you the best alcoholic beverages you had ever tasted in your life. You assumed that if you were going to have fun that night, it wasn't going to be possible without a little help from inside your body.

"What is a girl like you doing in a bar on valentine's day?" Tony's words caused you to look up from behind the bar and your eyes fell on his.

"I guess drown my sorrows in alcohol," you arched an eyebrow with a small sideways smile and refilled your martini glass.

"I'm sure you'd find a better way to drown your sorrows," Tony's voice grew darker, opening the doors to the game he was best at, but you were no slouch either.

"Possibly, but alcohol knows best how to deal with me," you raised your glass to your lips and sipped some of its contents, "I'm not an easy girl to fight with."

"Then I think you're in the right place," Tony mimicked your gesture, draining the contents of his glass, propitiating a smile on your lips.

"I'll keep that in mind," you said lowering your seductive tone ending the encounter, as you watched Rhodes approach you, you just gave him a smile and walked out of the bar back into the crowd.

You knew what Tony was like, during the time you had shared with him he had shown you each one of his multiple and multifaceted facets, which as he continually acknowledged were "Genius, Billionaire, Playboy, Philanthropist". On more than one occasion he tried to delve into the Playboy one, but time and time again he fell flat, for as you had said you were not a woman to deal with easily, nor could you yourself deal with yourself. Besides, there was the fact that you were totally opposite people, but very similar, in terms of character, and during the time you spent together a very peculiar relationship was generated between you, that few of those present would know how to describe.

You crossed that large room contemplating around you, everyone seemed to be enjoying a pleasant evening, you realized that it was the first time you associated those people with a calm situation, no surprise appearance of enemies, no screams and people fleeing through the streets fearing for their lives, only music, laughter and gestures of happiness complemented with a few glasses of alcohol. You felt the need to do the same, let yourself go and enter that parallel world, but something inside you prevented you from doing so, it was like a feeling that something was about to happen, so you opted to look for a door to the outside and enjoy the peace and quiet that your solitude, along with your martini, could offer you.

The night breeze of New York City at 1138 feet was a breath of fresh air, never better. Manhattan lay at your feet, but your eyes had no intention of looking down, on the contrary, they looked up, for you could almost touch the universe just by reaching up. Everything you'd ever wanted was up there, slinging the stars, allowing you to escape this world and discover so much more, and you'd known for years that more than one danger lurked there.

"Nice," Rhodes' presence caused your thoughts to drift away for a while.

"What's nice?" you asked quizzically, watching his figure approach you.

"Seeing that there's still love left on Valentine's Day," he stood beside you in the middle of that wide 90th floor terrace that surrounded the building.

"What do you mean?" you frowned oddly, circling the glass in your hands, but the gesture Rhodes made reminded you of the conversation with Tony. "Oh, no, no, no, that...we were joking. You know how Tony is."

"I know, I know how Tony is," Rhodes affirmed with a nod. "He was worried, when you disappeared off the map."

"I know," you said with a breath in your voice.

You hadn't really been entirely frank in telling your story, after the events in New York, you had taken the option of abandoning your complicated past life and running away, on the one hand feeling like a coward, but on the other hoping to start from scratch. The connection with Tony had been strangely special, and maybe the events affected you more because of his almost possible death, so when everyone chose to go their own way you did too, trying to disappear from the face of the earth, Indonesia was the best thing that happened to you. Eventually you discovered that Tony had made every effort to contact you, until after a few months he succeeded in doing so, thus generating an unpleasant misunderstanding between the two of you, coming to the conclusion that you had no intention of returning. But now there you were.

A new presence made Rhodes turn away from you and go back the same way he had come, but not before offering a little tap on Tony's shoulder. In his hands he brought two new glasses, this time of champagne and with a smile, the one that could get on your nerves, he approached you and offered it to you.

"Rumor has it, I make you nervous," he said raising an eyebrow and tilting his head.

"Excuse me?" you added in the same tone of voice he was putting on.

"You know, you disappeared when the conversation had gotten interesting," he took a sip from his champagne glass.

"Well, it didn't take you too long to find me either," you mimicked him, "If I had wanted to run away from you it would have taken you a lot longer to find me."

"I'll have to agree with you there," you looked down at the floor with a smile and set the glass down on a high glass table, to put his bow tie, which was completely crooked, back on properly. "Will you be my valentine?"

"Are you flirting with me Mr. Stark?" you frowned and subtly brushed the right side of his neck with the tip of your finger, causing a small spark to appear through the touch, making evident the little capacity you had in those moments of your powers. But that subtle gesture only intensified Tony's smile.

"Is it that obvious?" the tone of arrogance perched in his voice, at the same time he stroked the spot where you had given him the slight shock. "As obvious as I make you nervous."

At times that self-assurance could drive you crazy, at others it could drive you mad, on this occasion, both were fighting equally. You didn't know if it was because of the numerous martini glasses that were running through your blood, or because he was more attractive than you remembered him, or because that perfume was igniting your insides, but his powers of attraction were driving yours crazy. You felt the electromagnetism inside you seem a bit out of control, and that made you slow down that situation.

"Subtlety is not really something that goes with you," you said trying to show indifference to his words while you took the glass of champagne in your hands again and turned your face away from his, making a gesture to leave again. You felt a little annoyed with yourself for showing that you couldn't control the situation as well as he could.

"That's true, I'm not subtle," his tone also changed as he contemplated your gesture to leave, he took on a bit more seriousness, "I'd rather act up front, with everything, than hide."

"So that's it..." you said smiling bitterly stopping yourself.

The truth is that during the two months you had been back, after your emotional retreat, you hadn't had a single moment of peace to be able to address the issue at hand Tony. The meeting was hardly cold, there was really no time for reunions, as you showed up at the start of a mission to retrieve Loki's scepter in Sokovia, so that was the first time the two of you were alone, and you were using flirting to put up barriers to have a running conversation.

"What?" he played completely clueless, even though you knew perfectly well what he was referring to. "Ah, you mean I didn't decide to run away and hide in some remote location on earth after I nearly vanished in an alien invasion? If that's it, then yes."

You took a breath into your lungs and nodded to yourself taking a long sip from the champagne glass while avoiding looking into his eyes, which were looking really angry for you.

"I don't think this is the best time to have this conversation," you expressed putting the glass back down on the high table.

"Then when?" he raised his arms. "Shall we wait until this new mission is over and you're leaving again? Where is it going to be now? I ask so I don't have to spend seven months running around every corner of the planet. It would be very helpful if you could give me some clue, so I can save some time."

You threw up your hands in complete surrender and headed for the front door to the tower leaving behind you the bitter words coming out of Tony's mouth, you didn't want to start an argument, especially that night. You brought your hand to the knob of the glazed door, but in those moments....

"Jarvis, lock the rooftop exit doors," those words stopped the door from opening, leaving you ecstatic.

"Really?" you exclaimed indignantly looking back at him. "Are you going to stop me from leaving? You know I only have to stroke the glass to bring it all down."

"But you won't," Tony closed the distance to you in three steps, the melody in his voice had relaxed, as had his countenance.

"How are you so sure?" you asked, almost feeling dread at the answer he was about to offer, checking that he was still slowly approaching you.

"Because you know we need this conversation and there won't be a better time than now to have it," he kept his right arm upright holding the cup, while his left was tucked inside his Tom Ford pants, offering you a nonchalant air.

"Okay," you said giving up, and creating with a slight flick of your fingers an electromagnetic force field around him preventing him from coming any closer to you. When Tony noticed he couldn't help but express his amused feelings in a smile.

"Alright," he tilted his face to one side stopping his footsteps. "Fair enough."

"Well, how do we do that?" you asked somewhat confused not knowing what to say or how to start that conversation, it was obvious that those things were just as bad for you as they were for Tony.

"How about...with an apology?" he said unsubtly with a shrug of his shoulders, which elicited a massive gesture of disapproval from you.

"What!" you exclaimed. "Why would I have to apologize to you? I think that's already been settled since you came to Sumba."

"Well... " he put his finger to his lips as if thinking, "The truth is that during our meeting we didn't settle much, on the contrary, I think we complicated things more. Especially if we remember that you threw me with a force field into the Indian Ocean. For that would be one of the things you should apologize to me for. Among many others, obviously."

"I think you'll have to wait with your arms crossed for me to apologize to you," you explained, your tone was quite high. "Besides, I would never have thrown you into the Ocean if it weren't for you trying to block my powers with one of your damn inventions."

"Oh, yeah, thanks for reminding me, you ended up smashing it too," with a swift movement he got rid of the button on the blazer that seemed to depress him. "What about ditching me in the middle of the night at the hotel? That I think hurt a lot more than the wrecking you did to my suit."

Remember what you said about never falling for him? You did fall for him once, when he came looking for you on Sumba Island, but you hardly know how it happened, it was only one night, which you regretted, in part, and you opted to leave as soon as possible to prevent him from invading your mind to force you to return with him to America. But things got complicated when he found you again and the two of you started a stupid battle in the middle of that paradise.

"Oh, please," you said hiding under your palm. "Don't you feel comfortable switching roles? Have a woman be the one to leave in the middle of the night?"

"Not if that woman is you, " he said crossing his arms and stiffening his gesture.

You had both assumed that this conversation was not going anywhere, you were finding that out, your way of being and your character was limiting the possibilities of reaching a middle ground. You plopped down on the glassed-in wall, arms folded like he was in your lap.

"Okay, listen," he began, shoving his hands into his pants pockets, "get rid of this and let's talk face to face."

"I don't think so," you said getting rid of the heels that were grinding your feet silly that night.

"Get rid of the electromagnetic field," he warned again, but you shook it off with your face. "Okay, have it your way."

"What...?"

At that moment you checked as Tony moved steadily forward, approaching the edge of the field, knowing that if he breached it that would cause irreparable damage to his person. The alert went off inside your head you hoped he wouldn't be stupid enough to do it, but that couldn't be said for Tony, he had every intention of doing it. It was a battle you were going to lose, because at the very instant you were a millimeter away from piercing him with your foot you got rid of him, causing a smirk on his face.

"I'd kill you..." you muttered clenching your jaw, Tony smiled without stopping his steps enjoying your anger, which barely allowed you to realize that he was scant inches away from you. "I swear..."

But before you could finish his proximity made you stop your words, causing your lips to brush softly against each other. It wasn't a kiss as such. It was a subtle brush, pausing instantly waiting to contemplate your reaction to the fact. Tony barely moved a millimeter away from you, leaving you cornered between his body and the window, but he stopped his movements waiting for you to start them again. Your heart was racing, you could hear the energy coursing through your veins from one limb to the other, and you needed to take a minute to get yourself under control. He knew it, that's why he was acting that way.

You approached his lips again, keeping your mind completely clear. The warmth and suppleness of his tongue went deep inside your mouth, again feeling his taste mixed with champagne and martini. His body imprisoned yours, making you feel every part of him on you. When his mouth pierced your lips to your neck you tried to mumble something unsuccessfully, almost warning him that it couldn't go any further, but Tony didn't seem to care. He was focusing on rediscovering how every cell inside you tensed as he brushed his tongue against your skin. You brought your hand to the back of his neck, preventing him from separating from you, channeling the energy inside you again with force preventing your body from exploding at any moment, because that was the capacity Tony had when he was on top of you. Both of you were completely absorbed by what was going on around you, that there was a party just a few meters away, and that anyone could discover you sooner or later. That's how a couple of knocks coming from the other side of the glass broke the moment, causing a lapse of your concentration that was attributed by a small sparkle on Tony's tongue.

"Ouch!" he groaned pulling away from you, but again he put on that amused grin. "That was hot, sparky."

You on the contrary looked behind you, running into Bruce's figure somewhat embarrassed that he was the one guilty of breaking the situation you were maintaining, but you also found concern in his gaze.

"I'm sorry... Can we talk for a moment Tony?" he asked pointing to the exit door, "I'm sorry."

"What the hell did you do?" you whispered to Tony, knowing something wasn't quite right, but Tony shrugged it off as if it was nothing to him.

"This better be worth it," Tony said shoving his hands inside his pockets to hide the consequences of the action you had been committing. He turned to you and stroked your bare arm. "I'll be back in two minutes, don't move from here. We have a lot of talking left to do," he winked at you and headed for the door. "JARVIS, enable the doors to the outside of the roof," there was no response. "JARVIS?"

Bruce seemed to understand why that was happening, Tony pulled from inside his jacket a device that controlled his AI, but it didn't seem to show any signs of life either. Tony focused his gaze on Bruce, who seemed to take in what was happening and fear was in his eyes.

"What the hell is going on Tony?"

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pretty-setter-bois · 4 years ago

Text

elephant in the room

request; none! this idea popped into my head n i thought it was funny. also, this takes place during episode 4 ღ

summary; sexual tension between you and our resident ‘innocent boy’. but daisuke’s there too.

word count; 2611™

warnings; suggestive themes (no nsfw!), daisuke bby cuts his finger while cutting potatoes, maybe haru not being as innocent as we deem him to be ☛☚

prequel

DAISUKE’S PHONE RINGS as he walks along the roads on the private property he owned, eyebrows knitting and lips pursing as he looked at the contact calling him, answering nonetheless. “what?”

“you got some time right now?” haru asks.

wasn’t it his day off?

“yeah.” he leans forward in anticipation. “hurry up and get to the point.”

“sorry, to do this while you’re off duty, but could you help me with something? well, it’s not like absolutely need your help, but...” haru rambles.

“i don’t mind coming over, however...” daisuke looks at the road ahead of him, knowing the journey was long. “why didn’t you ask (L/N)-san? she lives much closer than i do, and-” a small, repetitive beep continued for a few seconds, cutting him off.

haru had hung up.

DAISUKE HAD SPOTTED haru on the bench, beginning to fall asleep. “hey. what do you need?”

“hey. sorry about this.” he jolts awake.

“hurry up and get to the point.” he replies, arrogant. “is something wrong with that child?”

the kid runs towards them, pointing towards daisuke. “is this the man?”

“yeah.” haru confirms with a nod.

“mister! please, can you find shiro for me?” he begs.

“what’s going on?” he turns to haru.

“shiro has gone missing!’ the boy exclaims.

“well, basically, a puppy named shiro has gone missing.” haru explains. “can you use your AI butler to find him?”

that was how daisuke got roped into this mess, following a wild goose chase in the shape of a white dog, without HEUSC.

he fools the kid into running off to find his dog, the smug smile playing on his face disappearing as haru drags him after the kid.

they meet an old woman on her yard, finding out that the dog the boy thought was shiro, was actually a cat.

they leave the yard defeated, taking tsuyoshi (the boy) to the police station to find out where he lived, and take him home.

THE DETECTIVE DUO were in the grocery store, daisuke pushing the cart as haru gathered the ingredients they needed for dinner. daisuke dangerously eyes the natto haru placed in the shopping cart, not wanting it near him at any cost.

you, on the other hand, completely oblivious to them, were happily shopping among the tiny store. you placed all your items in your basket, unknowingly standing behind them in line.

you had to admit, the crisp-ironed white dress shirt and dark, navy blue vest looked completely familiar. “kambe-san?”

“(L/N)-san,” he turns around casually, revealing haru behind him.

“what are you doing here?” your voice quiets down a little, shocked at the sight of the man behind him as you addressed daisuke.

“shopping. i wish you a pleasant experience while shopping in this... grocery store.” his nose crinkles while he tries to remember the name of the building he was in.

“yeah, you too...” your voice wavers, and you want nothing more but to return to your timid ways.

“you should have dinner with us. it would be nice to partake in an activity together outside of the office. this is what you would call a hangout, am i correct?”

“yeah.” you giggle at his formality and absence of knowledge for casual words, not yet noticing haru’s strong stare towards you.

“WHEN I SAID ‘yeah’, i was agreeing to your question about hangouts.” you jog on the side walk, trying to keep up with the tall men in front of you (though you would soon find out that daisuke was a lot closer to your height than you’d originally thought).

“i apologize, would you like to go home?” he asks as formally as he does bluntly.

“she’s already here, so she might as well eat with us, right?” haru says, and it’s the first sentence he’s spoken that was addressed to you.

his voice is so much softer, so much higher compared to the octaves it dropped to last time-

you squeeze your eyes shut, taking a deep breath and opening them as you try your hardest to focus on whatever the pavement was made out of and nothing but.

he was thanking whatever higher power above him that he was walking in front, as every single on of the features on his face was a telltale sign that he was on the verge of breakdown.

daisuke stops in front of the building, admiring it (or so you thought). you stop behind him, as the pathway to the stairwell was blocked, and you were more interested in what he had to say than being in haru’s line of sight.

“what are you doing?” haru turns towards him.

“this is where you live?” he asks.

“got a problem with that?” haru exclaims.

“no.” daisuke blinks, before the three of you set foot inside haru’s humble abode.

“it’s a bit cluttered, but don’t worry about it.” he motions.

“so you really do live here?” daisuke asks again, and you think about getting involved before haru kicks him out and it becomes just the two of you.

“stop pestering!” he becomes agitated, but leads you both to the kitchen. “i have to cook some rice first... alright, can you chop up the carrots and potatoes over there?”

haru hands his fellow detective a potato, as daisuke stares at it intently. you decide to intervene, feeling bad that you’d ended up in his house without him being able to make a decision. “i’ll help!”

haru nods, taking things out of his shopping bag as you focus on his eyes. they had returned to their usual, golden yellow, and his pupils were normal again.

they had darkened to a gorgeous light brown hue a few nights prior, his pupils largely dilating to a radius you’d never seen on eyes before-

you move to one of his drawers, the one he kept knives (and corkscrews, which you’d learned earlier) in to help daisuke with cutting vegetables.

daisuke noticed that you’d known exactly where it was without guidance, but brushed it off and focused on the task at hand.

once you’d found one, you stand next to him and begin to cut potatoes effortlessly, humming a small tune you’d heard somewhere on the bus.

daisuke looks over, trying to copy your actions, failing with difficulty. how did you make it look so easy?

“need help?” you ask with a smile, to which he nods, primarily focusing on the potatoes.

“like this...” you unknowingly stick your tongue out in concentration, sturdying his left hand around the vegetable and guiding his right hand with your own, all while standing beside him.

haru couldn’t keep his eyes off of the both of you, mentally cursing daisuke for using the opportunity to get closer to you. why was he jealous?

“ah!” he yells, being too distracted to notice the hot steam that tickled — and almost burned — his hand.

“are you alright?” you ask, peaking your head through the door.

you’d gotten comfortable with the situation, knowing that you’d be here for a while. might as well suck it up and act like an adult, right?

“yeah...” he breathes, ears twitching at your voice.

it was just as harmonious as it was when he’d heard it then, had you always sounded like an angel? you didn’t even have to speak words, incoherent noises being more than enough proof-

he tries to shake the thoughts out of his head, counting the grains of rice to distract him from being distracted. he was doomed.

you, completely unaware of his thoughts, decided that daisuke had had enough practice cutting and could do it on his own. not even a minute later, he speaks up.

“the first aid box.”

you look up, confused.

“i injured myself. bring me the first aid box.” he repeats.

“huh? like i’d have something like that. just lick it, it’ll heal.” haru shrugs.

you inspect daisuke’s finger, noticing that the cut was larger than an average cut you’d get from cutting vegetables.

you nimbly make your way to the shelf, opening it and reaching for the band-aids. damn it. even on your tippy-toes you weren’t tall enough to reach it.

you feel a presence behind you, one you recognize. you recognize it because it’s the only one capable of making your heart race, the speed of your mind competing against your heart with thoughts-

“(L/N)-san?” daisuke asked, eager for your return as he would not be able to cut the rest of the potato.

“yes?” you squeaked, glad he couldn’t see you trapped in between the sink and haru.

“where are you?” he continues with his question.

“i’m getting band-aids, give me a second.” you manage to speak.

so you knew where the band-aids were, too. he thinks.

at the mention of band-aids, haru gets them from above you and places them in front of you. you let out a small ‘thank you’, and get back to daisuke.

realizing that you had to get back to the kitchen to return them, and you couldn’t bare another awkward interaction, you place them on the table and continue with your work.

“THIS IS ALL you have?” daisuke asks, stepping out of the shower in haru’s clothes.

you couldn’t help but marvel at his appearance, how does his hair feel like? is it as fluffy as it seems? he looked absolutely adorable.

“you know, you’ve been complaining this whole time.” haru points out, and daisuke crosses his arms on his chest behind him.

you were also glad that daisuke took short showers, as being alone with haru made the elephant in the room grow bigger.

said man put your food on to plates, and the three of you carried your plates to a table, you being on either side of them.

“thank you for the food.” you nod, before beginning to eat.

you had to admit, this was much better than the packet-ramen you had originally planned to eat.

he looked at you while you were distracted, devouring something from hunger as he began to-

-eat his own food, shaking his head again. the three of you had finished your food, and you washed the plates and spoons as a token of gratitude for the meal.

you’d arrived at the table after finishing, only to be greeted by an awkward question from daisuke. “have you been here before?”

“what do you mean?” not quite comprehending it.

“haru’s apartment.” he tilts his head towards you. “have you been here before?”

your eyes widen, a shaking fist making it’s way towards your chest as you blushed red. “wh-why would you say that?”

“you know where everything is. the knives, the ban-aids, the sponge.” he bluntly deducts.

you looked at haru, who gulped and tried to avoid your stare. so this is how the night was going to go down?

“n-no, not at all!” you nervously chuckle. “all houses look the same in this area, so it was easy.”

“do all people put their belongings in the same places too?” daisuke asks. what he meant as a simple question became more evidence against your lie.

“um...” you shy away from the question.

“i got something you might like.” haru says, and like that, the conversation is dodged. for now.

dry-cured ham was thrown into the mix (and spit out by daisuke, to which you tried and failed to stifle a laugh).

haru gets up and goes to the kitchen, throwing in a bunch of ingredients to make something he referred to as a ‘kato family special’.

“a can of tuna, bean sprouts... pour some soy sauce with tons of wasabi in it... and lastly, some bonito flakes.” he explains as he cooks.

he serves it to daisuke, and you watch intently as the millionaire takes a bite. was he going to enjoy food that us commoners eat?

“are you going to have some, (L/N)-san?” he asks.

“ah, no thank you. i’ve had some befo-” you cut yourself off, realizing what you had just said.

“you’ve been here before.” he bluntly shrugs. “why hide it?”

you don’t respond, instead excusing yourself for water (and a change of dreaded atmosphere). after you return, you announce, “i think i should take my leave now... it’s getting late, and if i wait any later, i wont be able to leave.”

“your phone.” daisuke simply points out.

damn it. it had died earlier, and thankfully, you had a charger (so you wouldn’t have to ask haru for one). you’d come here walking, and since it was late, you didn’t want to leave without your phone at least at a decently charged number.

“i guess a few more minutes wouldn’t hurt...” you awkwardly chuckle.

“INSPECTOR ASANO, YOU are ordered on indefinite leave effective today.” the tv announces, the movie you’d been roped into watching coming close to an end.

haru and daisuke sat behind you, the only difference between you three is that you were the only one sober. you didn’t want another repeat of last time.

haru began rambling about justice, about how some people lived a life with everything given to them. daisuke, on the other hand, was on the verge of falling asleep.

his subconscious self made his way to wherever he ended up, saying that he wanted to sleep. you yourself had gotten up, knowing that you had to get going yourself.

as you were getting up, you felt something tug at your wrist. a drunk haru. “don’t leave. it’s late.”

“well, i kind of have too...” you nervously giggle while rubbing the back of your neck.

“why?”

“well, i can’t sleep here. there’s no where i can sleep.” you shrug; a lie.

“then sleep on the bed.”

“i’m pretty sure daisuke’s sleeping on the couch, and i’d hate to kick you off of your own bed-”

“i’ll sleep on the bed too.”

your face gets red, your arm gets limp in his and your brain can’t comprehend anything. “wh-what?”

“i said i’ll sleep on the bed too, why should it matter.” his words are slowly spoken. “i mean, we’ve done it before, right?”

haru was always bolder when drunk (proven by last time), and it only left you blushing and limp.

“b-but... daisuke’s outside, how-what is-”

he cuts her off, pulling her towards him as she falls forwards. their lips, the only thing on their minds, being a mere inch away, connect themselves as if having minds of their own.

what was meant to be an innocent kiss soon turned into a heated one, and then a make-out session, and then you staying over. you’d dreaded the repeat of last time to happen, but now that it had, you couldn’t be any more grateful.

extra;

YOU’D WOKEN UP early, lazily putting on whatever you’d discarded the night before. you dashed to the bathroom to at least try and wash up, before daisuke caught you and questioned you again.

you open the door quietly, almost letting out a shout of surprise. in the bathtub, daisuke was sleeping soundly yet in an uncomfortable position. you quickly scramble for your phone, thinking that he couldn’t get any more adorable than he was now.

you snap a quick photo, deciding that it was all the waking up that you needed, and made your way to haru’s room. you woke him up softly, watching as his eyelashes slowly blinked awake.

you give him a quick kiss on the cheek, before he mutters something incomprehensible and goes back to sleep. maybe one day, the elephant in the room would be addressed.

NOTES ☀♕❣⁂ღ

so um, this was a ride. i’m glad i finally have a haru imagine! our bby deserves some love! also, daisuke with his hair down, a whole BABY.

#haru x reader #haru kato x reader #kato x reader #haru kato imagine #balance unlimited imagines #balance unlimited #the millionare detective balance: unlimited #balance unlimited x reader

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