#and for Will it came down to me breaking down what was most likely to make him snap without Hannibal’s influence | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hsnlv · 2 days ago

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enhypen!hyung line reaction to…

your stupid tiktok joke?

warnings/others: fluff?, suggestive joke (ifffff you squint actually lmfaoo)

a/n: i dont how to put out a layout for this one but i hope you enjoy it regardless :0 reblogs and comments are highly appreciated! 💗here’s my masterlist!💗

˖ ᡣ�� ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊ lee heeseung ˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊

“im bored. we should kiss.”

you glare at heeseung as he lounges on your bed, completely absorbed in his phone. your boyfriend—the one who came over claiming he missed you sooo much—is now here, ignoring you like you’re just part of the furniture.

“hee…” you whine, shifting closer to him, trying to steal even a sliver of his attention. but apparently, whatever’s on his screen is far more fascinating than you, because all you get in return is a halfhearted, unbothered “hm.”

oh, that’s it.

a lightbulb flickers in your mind as you remember something, and before you can stop yourself, you clear your throat dramatically and mumble, “baby, i’m bored. we should kiss.”

cue instant chaos.

heeseung, mid-sip of his water, suddenly chokes—his eyes widening as he coughs, frantically trying not to die. “w-what was that, bun?” he sputters, still recovering.

you blink at him innocently, gasping as if you’re shocked beyond belief. “gasp! who said that?!” you clutch your chest like you just heard the most scandalous thing in the world. “that’s crazy! so bold! so shameless!”

heeseung squints at you, lips twitching in amusement. “oh? so it wasn’t you?”

you shake your head furiously, eyes wide. “nope! absolutely not! it was probably the wind… or maybe a ghost!” you gasp again, pointing at him dramatically. “oh no! what if our house is haunted by a really romantic ghost?!”

heeseung finally breaks, a giggle escaping him as he tosses his phone aside and pulls you into his arms. “a romantic ghost, huh? well, i guess i better listen to its request.”

and before you can come up with another ridiculous excuse, he’s already leaning in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your lips.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾. park jongseong ‧₊˚ ☁��⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

“the matter baby? whats the matter baby?”

it’s movie night, and you and jay are curled up on the couch, but there’s just one problem.

jay is glued to his phone.

not paying attention to the movie. not paying attention to you. just scrolling.

you squint at him. this is blatant disrespect.

so, naturally, you decide to fix it.

“jay,” you say sweetly, shifting closer.

“hm?” he replies, still not looking up.

you fight back a smirk. “would you rather eat a baby goat or the matter baby?”

“the matter baby?” he asks, completely oblivious.

“what’s the matter, baby?”

his thumb freezes.

his entire body goes rigid.

you watch as his brain malfunctions in real-time.

his eyes narrow, his jaw slightly dropping as realization smacks him in the face. “did you just—”

“nothing, sugar! how about you?” you cut him off, smiling innocently.

he stares. blinks once. twice.

and then, with zero warning, he lunges at you.

“YOU DID NOT JUST GET ME WITH THAT STUPID JOKE.”

you shriek, scrambling to escape, but jay is faster, stronger, and fueled by vengeance.

he tackles you onto the couch, trapping you beneath him as he straddles you.

“oh my god, you’re so mad right now!” you giggle, completely unbothered by the fact that you’re literally being held hostage.

“mad? no,” he smirks. “i just think you deserve punishment.”

“jay, no—”

too late.

his hands dive straight for your sides, and suddenly, you’re screaming with laughter, kicking and flailing as he mercilessly tickles you.

“say you’re sorry!” he demands, grinning.

“never!” you gasp between giggles, tears forming in your eyes.

“fine.” he leans down, lowering his voice. “i was gonna stop, but since you’re so stubborn…”

“JAY—”

the next few minutes are pure chaos, filled with screaming, thrashing, and a ridiculous amount of laughing.

somehow, you both end up in a tangled heap, breathless and giggling, his phone long forgotten on the floor.

mission: accomplished.

૮₍ ´ ꒳ `₎ა sim jaeyun ૮₍ ´ ꒳ `₎ა

“shh, dont talk too loud. it’s not good for the baby.”

jake has been nagging you non-stop for the past ten minutes, pacing around the room like a worried mother. and all because you forgot to lock the door when he left for groceries.

“baby, this is a serious matter,” he huffs, hands on his hips. “what— what if someone broke in and killed you or something? we do not want that—”

you groan, dramatically flopping onto the bed. yes, okay, he has a point. but in your defense, you were way too lazy to get up, and it’s not like he was gone for that long anyway.

and then, a lightbulb flickers in your head.

“hey, jake,” you cut him off mid-rant, voice suddenly soft and serious.

he stops, blinking at you. “what?”

you grab his hand gently and whisper, “shh, don’t talk too loud… it’s not good for the baby.”

jake freezes. you watch as about a thousand thoughts seem to hit him at once. “baby? what baby?”

“me,” you pout, clutching his hand tighter. “i’m the baby.”

his entire demeanor changes in a second. his sharp gaze softens, his lips twitching like he’s trying not to melt. “oh my god,” he mutters, running a hand over his face.

you double down, widening your eyes at him like some sort of helpless, delicate creature. “you were yelling,” you whisper dramatically. “scaring the baby…”

jake snorts, shaking his head as he finally cracks, wrapping his arms around you and squishing you into his chest. “you are so insufferable,” he mutters, laughing into your hair. “but ugh, fine. my poor baby.”

you grin, smug at your victory.

except—

“but,” jake suddenly pulls back, holding your face between his hands, his soft tone turning into a firm one again. “my big baby still needs to lock the door when i leave, okay?”

you groan. “ugh, jake—”

“nope,” he shakes his head, pecking your forehead to shut you up. “no arguments, baby. i will nag you forever if i have to.”

“forever?” you blink.

“forever.”

…you don’t know whether to be fond or terrified.

˚⊱🎀⊰˚park sunghoon ˚⊱🎀⊰˚

“i dont know whats gotten into me but i wish it was you.”

you lazily trace random patterns on sunghoon’s chest, humming softly as he absentmindedly plays with your hair.

“you’re awfully quiet today, hm?” he murmurs, his fingers still threading through your strands. he presses a quick kiss to the top of your head, as if trying to snap you out of your daze.

perfect. he fell right into your trap.

you smirk against his chest before quickly wiping it away, putting on your most innocent, vulnerable expression. you clear your throat dramatically.

“i don’t know what’s gotten into me lately, hoonie…” you mumble, voice just the right mix of soft and mysterious.

his phone is instantly forgotten. his whole body tenses as he tilts his head down at you, his eyes now filled with concern.

“hm?” he hums, his fingers pausing in your hair.

“but…” you sigh dramatically, tightening your grip on his shirt. “i wish it was you.”

silence.

you feel his chest rise and fall, but he doesn’t say a single word. you slowly peek up at him, and oh, wow.

his brain is completely fried.

his lips part slightly, his eyebrows furrowed, and his usually sharp gaze looks… empty.

“wait.” he blinks once. then twice. “what—”

before he can even process the joke, he suddenly moves.

with a swift motion, he pushes you down onto the bed, hovering over you with a deadpan expression.

“you think you’re funny, huh?” his voice is low, but there’s a hint of amusement laced in it.

you burst into giggles, squirming under him. “i know i’m funny!”

he narrows his eyes before suddenly attacking your sides with tickles.

“hoon— hoon, stop—” you shriek, flailing under him as he mercilessly tickles you, a smirk finally tugging at his lips.

“oh no, baby,” he teases, tilting his head. “you brought this on yourself.”

“i take it back! i take it back!” you cry out, but he only laughs, enjoying the way you’re practically gasping for air between your giggles.

when he finally stops, he hovers above you, his face just inches away.

“next time, i’ll really get into you,” he murmurs with a smirk, before pressing a soft, lingering kiss on your lips.

…yeah, joke’s on you.

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softaestluv · 2 days ago

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Breaking Bread

Simon Riley who is quite the anomaly of a man, or human, rather. Your lieutenant who has only spoken a handful of words to you.

Simon Riley who happens to be sat at the only open table in the mess hall.

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Sergeant! Reader

Tags: Short n’ Sweet, Fluff, Pining, Angst, Slow burn if you squint, Food as a love language, Eventual romance, Eventual smut, Military inaccuracies

Pt. 1

Simon Riley who you eat with everyday since, becomes a staple piece in your days. A familiar routine that feels anything but.

Unfamiliar, confusing, perplexing because you weren’t exactly sure why Ghost wanted you to sit with him or where you stood with him.

So, you decided standing in the middle of the mess hall, tray in hand, until you find Ghost’s gaze every day was the answer. Wait for his eyes to flick to the empty space in front of him, which they always do; a silent cue for you to join him. And who were you to disobey an order from your lieutenant?

You were a good sergeant, after all.

Found yourself sat across your lieutenant most days. His irises urging you to your ‘seat.’ Greeted him with a soft smile and warm ‘Hi, Lieutenant!’ because you weren’t entirely sure whether he wanted to talk to you or not.

Left the two of you to eat your food in comfortable silence— atleast you hoped it was comfortable for him too. Before you stood up with a sweet ‘Thank you for eating lunch with me, sir.’

He was always there before you, even if you rushed to the mess hall. Always had his food waiting for your arrival, didn’t start eating until you sat with him. Though you were always the first one to stand up to leave, even if he cleared his plate before you had. Waited for you to finish and walk away before he would.

Until one day he wasn’t there, his claimed table empty. You swept your eyes through the room, it would be almost impossible to miss his broad shoulders and skull mask.

You stood there for a few seconds debating if you should sit at the table. What if he never came and you just sat there by yourself? What if he didn’t want to sit by you today?

You had pinched your lips raw in thought by the time a large palm rested on the small of your back. You snapped your head towards the owner; Ghost’s face hovered close as he bent to your height behind your shoulder. Could practically feel his thick chest against your side.

“Comin’?” He asked, breaths shallow like he had jogged there.

He had touched you before, in training, to adjust your position or posture. Ordered you around before moving you on his own accord when you didn’t move fast enough on assignments. You were used to the demanding weight of his palm, but this was different. It was an option, a question rather than a command you had to obey.

“Yeah, uh, yes, sir,” You stuttered out.

Let him guide you to his table— your table?

“Sorry, I didn’t know if you were coming to sit with me or not today,” You explained as you sat down with him.

“Always gon’ come,” He said, had your skin blooming in an unfamiliar warmth, “Man’s gotta eat.”

Dissolved your worries after that, he asked and you answered.

And faithful to his word he was there, even if you somehow arrived before he had— a rare occasion. You sat at the empty table, food untouched, just as he did for you, until he joined you with a deep grunt as an acknowledgment of your presence.

Dinner was different, the spot to the left of him was taken by Soap more often than not. But still, your lieutenant’s eyes ordered you to sit in the empty space in front of him. Soap was confused at first, welcoming of a fellow sergeant, of course, but curious to Ghost’s gaze.

Though dinner was more like you were eating with Soap rather than Ghost. The two of you spoke while Ghost listened— focused his attention on you between bites. Offered nods as responses and smart remarks to Soap’s banter.

Breakfast with Ghost was your favorite. He did not attend most mornings; you assumed this was because he had to wake earlier than you, complete mandatory work sergeants did not have to. So, if you didn’t see him in the mess hall in the early mornings, you were free to sit with the other sergeants. But if you sat at the empty table in anticipation of his arrival— just in case, well that was another story.

When he was there for breakfast, his shoulders slumped like he was still drowsy from lack of sleep. Hummed quietly when you greeted him instead of his usual dissatisfied grunt or silence. Just a little sweeter at breakfast, maybe it was because he got to muse over a cup of his favorite tea or because the hall wasn’t as packed in the mornings. The absence of loud sergeants and privates eased his irritations.

Maybe it’s cause he got to start the day off with his favorite sergeant.

Few words were shared during this time, you could be sitting with a brick wall for all you knew. He was quite the wall, you thought, sinewy and stalwart, stable and resilient. Still, you hid the small smiles that tugged at your lips whenever he was a little tired, when his bricks chipped and gave away in the light of the mornings. Covered your teeth between gulps of coffee so as not to jeopardize the cracks revealed. When he was just a little softer around the edges in his groggy state.

After what seemed to be weeks of silence, you almost didn’t realize he was speaking to you when he broke it one day. Took a couple of seconds of you staring open-mouthed at him like you had imagined the words from his lips as he arched his brow at you.

“Coffee?” He repeated when you did not answer, gesturing to the cup in your hand.

“Oh! Yes, it’s coffee.” You responded.

You thought that would be the end of it, cursing yourself because your response hadn’t really provided him much to expand upon, but to your surprise another low hum came.

“Course it is,” You watched his nose scrunch under the mask, “How d’ya like it?”

You frowned at his disappointed tone, “Three sugars and cream.”

“Too sweet,” He grumbled under his breath.

“It’s perfect, actually,” You retort, and because you feel like you have to validate yourself to him you add, “I drink tea, too.”

He just hums, like he doesn’t believe you or really care for that matter.

“And you?” You ask, slight bite to your words.

“Hhmm?”

“Your cup.” You explain.

“Tea.” Ghost deadpans, like it’s stupid for you to think anything else would be in it.

“No shit,” You remark, earns you a small twitch to the side of his lips, “How do you like it?”

“Wanna taste?” He muses.

You look at him in shock, lips falling open as you paused in hesitation. You didn’t know if he’s just trying to fuck with you or not, tease you for believing he would actually share with you, so you don’t give him a response. But his hands lift the cup to your mouth anyways, decided he was going to press the ceramic to your lips despite a response, and tilts the liquid into your mouth.

You swallow it, but the taste doesn’t quite melt on your tongue, can’t think about anything else but the fact that your lieutenant is feeding you his cup of tea. Can’t think when his eyes stare intently at you over the cup, watching you diligently take a gulp.

“Good?” He asks, gloved thumb catching a droplet from the side of your mouth.

You nod mindlessly, licking the remnants off your lips. His irises follow the movement.

You don’t say anything more— can’t say anything more when your mind was practically malfunctioning on ‘what the fuck?’

The next day at breakfast, two cups were on the table. You looked at Ghost with furrowed brows.

“For you.”

“Coffee?” You asked.

He shook his head, “Tea.”

From that day forward, Ghost had a cup of tea waiting for you, made just how he liked it. But, how exactly that was, you were still unsure. Told you not to worry, he would keep making it for you if you liked.

So, you let him, even if he was trying to convert you to his ways.

Which seemed to change the dynamic between the two of you. In a way you weren’t completely sure meant, but it twirled and took shape of its own. Not without your own contributions, of course. He made you tea, and in turn, you offered him sweets.

Snapped the chocolate bar you had managed to wrangle on base one day, a delicacy truly, and slowly slid it across the table to Ghost’s side. He looked at you with no emotion, blank and straight-faced.

“Sharing my chocolate with you, lieutenant. Milk chocolate,” You explained, putting your finger to your lips while whispering, “But you mustn’t tell Soap; he’ll feel betrayed. Our little secret.”

“I like dark chocolate better.” He rasped.

Had you rolling your eyes, but still he ate it. Watched him peel his gloves off so he could lick the melted chocolate off his thumbs.

And next time you broke it in two; it was dark chocolate.

It became more than just tea and chocolate exchanged between lieutenant and sergeant. You brought him sweets of all kind once a week, found out the anomaly of a man, Simon Riley had quite a sweet tooth.

And it seemed he looked forward to it just as much as you did, blinked at you starry eyed while he impatiently waited to see what treat you brought him that week. Cherry lollipops, blueberry muffins, lemon biscuits, and chocolate cookies. Your lieutenant was seen with a lollipop stick dangling in his mouth more often than not.

Though on weeks you didn’t bring him sweets, he didn’t seem to mind too much. Told him apologetically that you couldn’t manage to get your hands on any treats that week, but he would always shake his head. Calmed your worries with reassurance that it was okay— lunch with you was the treat.

Made something warm burn in your limbs, tangling its talons and webs through your veins, and settling in your core with the deep timber of his voice.

#cherri writes #fanfic #simon ghost riley #ghost cod #simon riley x reader #softaestluv #call of duty #cod #ghost x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley #cod x reader #soap cod #cod mw2 #fluff #eventual smut #breaking bread

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witherby · 21 hours ago

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With Dick being so angry about Conner breaking in i could only imagine how chatic him actually meeting Conner would be, like having to keeo him in one of those kiddie keashes or he‘ll try to kill the guy 😭

A 17 year restrianing a whole adult man with one of those kid harnesses

Honestly? Yeah. Gimme some genuinely angry Nightwing every once in a while. Let that parentified man get some of that pent-up rage out!!!

The Littlest Wayne: Meet the Family

Masterlist is Here!

Conner opens his eyes and sits up when he hears you step into his room. He stares at you incredulously, then at the darkness and the way it seamlessly folds and bends to your will.

"You're invulnerable?" You ask him.

"Yes?" He responds, confused. It's just past eleven at night, and you've shown up out of nowhere to chat when the only other time you've spoken was when he came to your room three days ago. "A bullet bounces off me at point-blank range. Feels like somebody flicked me with their finger, at most."

"Okay," you say, looking nervous, "because my family found out you broke into the house to talk to me, and they're, like, super livid. I just came to give you fair warning because they might, uh, try to kill you."

Conner chuckles. Your face doesn't change. He stops chuckling.

"What, you're serious?"

"They're looking for their stashes of Kryptonite right now. I hid most of it, but they probably have more I don't know about. Just...be prepared. And don't kill any of them, or you'll have to hide from me, next."

The shadows in his room curl around you again. You step into them and allow darkness to envelop you completely.

"Bye, Conner."

"Um," he blurts, cheeks reddening, "same. I mean, bye. Goodbye to you, too."

He hears you snort in amusement before you're gone again. Conner is then left alone to process, 1, that you were concerned for his well-being enough to come warn him about your family, and 2, that he made you laugh.

He can't sleep the rest of the night, giddy with the swell of adoration he has for you.

The next time Luthor has him leave the facility to do his job as Superman, it's when the first Superman has to go off-world again over a month later. Conner stops a bank heist, saves some hostages, puts out a fire, and helps a child find her parents when she wanders too far off in the mall.

Then he meets your youngest sibling.

His moniker is Robin. The implanted information helps Conner identify him immediately, which helps him realize that Robin should not be in Metropolis, and especially not in full costume. Alarm bells are ringing in his head.

"I was warned you might show," Conner says, hovering in the air as he looks down at Robin.

"Then you know what you've done wrong," Robin calls back, unsheathing a sword from his back and pulling a batarang out of his pocket. "Come here and face the consequences."

"I'm fine where I'm at, thanks."

"It wasn't a request, Superboy."

"Superman," Conner frowns.

Robin sneers. "Not from what I see."

Conner feels a flare of anger surge within him. What was the big deal? He just needed to see you. He didn't hurt you — he would never dare — just stopped by your home to talk. And you did the same thing! Why some human with an eye mask and a sword feels like they can berate him for that, he doesn't know, but he's not going to take it lying down.

Faster than Robin can blink, Conner snatches the weapons from his hands and tosses them aside, then flips his cape over his head with a sneer.

"Go home, sidekick," Conner says. "I don't have time for this."

"I do."

Something hits Conner's back. It actually hurts, which is the surprising thing, and he yelps as a man in black and blue spandex descends upon him and starts beating him with a pair of escrima sticks. He falls to his knees, overwhelmed by a brand new sensory input he hasn't experienced before, then brings his arms up to shield his head and curls up further.

Nightwing, his brain registers between the blows. But according to his knowledge base, the man is usually not this violent. He always pulls back from an opponent when they duck down or hit the ground, and Conner is practically in fetal position. His sticks are glowing green, which is not a good sign. Conner feels sick.

"Oh, shit — hey, he's on the ground, pull it back!"

"This wasn't the plan, Nightwing, cool it —"

"I think he's doing great. Let him get a few more swings in."

"Robin you're not helping!"

"Seriously, get off him!"

Conner groans and gasps in pain. His whole body feels like it's on fire. There's sounds of a scuffle happening above him, but he picks up on someone else's shaky breathing a few yards away.

He cracks an eye open and spots a civilian half-hidden around the corner, filming everything happening.

The birds want to come to Metropolis and mess with him? Well, two can play at that game. They're about to be hated by the masses for touching the city's new golden boy.

Conner makes a panicked expression, lifts his arm and waves it in a sweeping motion, and starts shaking his head.

"R-run," he wheezes, "go, get away from here, get to safety!"

"What's he — shit! HEY, C'MERE!" Nightwing gasps, pointing at the civilian. The woman turns and darts into the building she was hiding by, fingers flying across her screen like lightning. "God dammit! Red Robin, can you —"

"I can't," the third figure standing by him says, sounding just as stressed. Conner recognizes both him and the Red Hood's silent figure, who had been physically holding Nightwing back from continuing to swing on him. Robin tsks and presses a few buttons on his gauntlet.

"We'll need to retreat and prepare to do damage control. The batmobile is coming, ETA 30 seconds. What do we do with him?" Robin kicks Conner's arm.

"We can't leave the kid. He's got Kryptonite poisoning and we dunno where his boss is to dump him for medical help," Red Robin says, crossing his arms and sighing. "We gotta take him with us and get the shards out."

"I say leave him anyway. It's just a couple pieces, and if he's as stupidly strong as the real Supes, he'll walk this off," Red Hood suggests.

"We wouldn't have to debate this if Nightwing had kept his cool," Robin grouches. Nightwing has the good graces to look chagrined and tucks his sticks away.

"I'm sorry. I was just thinking about...I'm sorry. C'mon, B will skin is alive if he finds out we left him for dead. Get him in the car."

They're about to abduct him, now, too? Conner almost laughs at the absurdity. All of this, just for paying you a visit? It's madness. But then he imagines some other stranger breaking into your room to talk to you, to touch you, to hurt you, and has to focus his energy to not start burning everything with his laser vision. It's not really absurd anymore. If he could draw a full breath without feeling like white-hot knives are slicing his vary atoms apart, Conner would attempt to explain himself. But he can't, so he doesn't.

He doesn't resist when two of them lift him and start loading his body into the back of a sleek, black vehicle. Metropolis' threats have been neutralized for today, so he technically doesn't need to stay in town. Instead, he closes his eyes and allows himself to drift.

They're taking him to Gotham, which is where you live. He has no qualms with that.

#littlest wayne au #conner kent x reader #kon el x reader #nightwing #robin #red robin #red hood #this is just Conner Gets His Ass Beat: The Fic #featuring everybody's favorite weapon...kryptonite-coated escrima sticks!!!#Conner with a body full of shards: i cant wait to get these bitches cancelled on twitter dot com

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v4mpire45 · 3 days ago

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Just a Dare

Other parts will be on the m.list.

☞ Link: click here.

Includes Midoriya, Kirishima, Bakugo, and Shinso.

Synopsis: You tell your best friend you're into them and get rejected, but in truth, it was just a dare.

Izuku Midoriya

It started as a harmless game of Truth or Dare with the Bakusquad. You didn’t think much of it when Kaminari dared you to confess to Midoriya. It was dumb, really. You and Midoriya were best friends. He’d probably see right through it and laugh it off.

Except, as you typed out the message, something about it made your heart race.

Maybe it was the way Midoriya had been looking at you lately. Or maybe it was the thought of how he might react, thinking it was real. Either way, you sent the text.

Midoriya apologized at least five more times, asking if things would be okay between you two. You reassured him over and over, but every time you saw him after that, he looked so guilty.

Maybe the dare wasn’t such a great idea after all.

Eijiro Kirishima

You and Sero had a dumb bet, who could get the most ridiculous reaction out of someone with a fake confession. Kirishima was the perfect target. He was so kindhearted, you knew he’d try to be as gentle as possible with the rejection.

So, while sitting across from Sero in the common room, you texted your best friend.

Sero was barely holding in his laughter as you showed him the texts. Kirishima, on the other hand, kept treating you extra carefully for the next few days, holding doors open, offering you food, and even patting your back reassuringly.

Joke’s on you because now you feel bad.

Katsuki Bakugo

“Dude, just text him,” Kaminari urged, practically shoving your phone into your hands. “I wanna see what he does.”

“You’re gonna get me killed.”

“Nah, he won’t kill you if you’re confessing.”

You had no idea why you agreed to this.

Maybe it was the curiosity. Maybe it was just boredom. Either way, you took a deep breath and sent the message.

He read your message and left you on read.

The next day, he acted completely normal, but something about his usual insults felt slightly forced, like he wasn’t sure if he should be mean to you or not. You could practically see the gears turning in his head every time you interacted.

Kaminari thought it was hilarious.

You thought you were gonna lose your mind.

Hitoshi Shinso

Mina and Jirou were ruthless during sleepovers, especially when it came to dares. So when they dared you to confess to Shinso, you barely had time to protest before they were chanting at you to do it.

Shinso was your best friend. He’d probably just roll his eyes and call you an idiot, right?

The next time you saw him, he watched you carefully like he was waiting for you to break down or something. He didn’t say anything at first, but his usual teasing was noticeably softer.

Maybe this was a mistake.

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midnightsnyx · 3 days ago

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come back home - jack hughes

pairing: jack hughes x reader warnings: angst with a hint of fluff word count: 879 requested: yes / no author note: i have like a million other projects i need to write but i just need to get my sad feelings out so yeah, sorry lol masterlist requests are open

It’s quiet when you step in to the apartment you and Jack shared which wasn’t unusual in the past few months. Quiet was how the two of you lived lately. Tip toeing around each other as if you were walking on egg shells.

Part of you was tired of it and asked yourself if it was really worth it. But the other part of you wasn’t sure if you knew how to live without him anymore and that thought alone scared you. It made you realize how much you had grown to depend on him.

You hear his voice before you see him.

“You’re home.”

His voice is hoarse and you know that he just woke up from a nap. His ruffled appearance confirms it when he meets you in the living room.

“Yeah,” you whisper, staring at the floorboards. You hadn’t been home for days - not since the fight the two of you had. Your best friend let you crash at her house after you told him you needed space which explains his next question.

“Why?”

Truthfully, you aren’t sure what made you decide to come home. Your friend had told you that you were welcome to stay as long as you needed and had even put her two cents in on the whole situation.

Her words stuck with you since you broke down and told her everything that had been going on.

“He may love you. He probably does… or at least he maybe thinks he does. But that’s not what matters, sweetie. What matters is what he is doing to show you that he does and right now… he isn’t doing anything.” She squeezed your hand and smiled gently. “You deserve someone who goes out of their way to show you how much they care about you.”

The worst part was that she was right. When was the last time he had went out of his way to do something for you? It made you think back to the beginning of your relationship when he treated you like you were the most important thing in his life. But you suppose that all new relationships begin like that.

You realize that he’s still staring at you intently and you try to come up with some reason you came back rather than the truth, which was that you were too dependant on him and you felt like you needed him as much as you needed air to breathe.

“Can you at least tell me one thing?” he asks after you’ve been silent for so long and all you can do is nod.

“Why did you leave?”

You don’t have to think about the answer to this question because it was something that had been haunting you for quite some time.

“I guess I started to feel like I needed you more than you needed me,” you tell him quietly, wrapping your arms around yourself tightly.

“Look at me,” he says and you let your eyes meet his. “I love you.”

You want to believe him but your friends words keep coming back to haunt you. Did he love you or was he drunk on the idea of it? Something your mom told you a long time ago was that there is a distinct difference between loving someone and being in love with them. It’s easy to lie to yourself about loving someone but you can’t lie to yourself about being in love with them.

“How are you so sure?” you ask him.

“How could I not?” he says and you’re about to tell him that his answer isn’t good enough but he doesn’t stop there. “Baby, you’re the first person I think of when I wake up and the last person I think of when I’m falling asleep at night.” He slowly walks over to you and reaches out with one hand, letting his thumb run across your cheek. “I think about your smile and your laugh and about how you are the only person I want to come home to.” You watch as he looks away from you and stares at a picture of the two of you. It’s from a trip the two of you took last summer during break.

“I don’t know what to do,” you admit. You’re scared that if you let things go back to how they were before, you’ll end up back here in this exact situation. “I’m afraid that this will become a cycle and I can’t do it, Jack. I physically can’t handle that.”

He doesn’t say anything for a minute, he just looks at you as if you’re the only thing in the world, his world, that matters. It makes you weak in the knees and this is the Jack you fell in love with.

“Just come home,” he whispers. “We can figure everything out. Together.”

It’s a risk, deciding to give everything another shot. To put your heart on the line. But you remember something else your mom told you once.

“The right people are worth staying for”, she had told you.

You take a deep breath and nod, hoping that you’re making the right decision.

“All right,” you tell him and he grins, kissing you for the first time in months and it feels like coming home.

#allies writing #hockey imagines #nhl fanfiction #hockey fanfiction #nhl imagines #hockey imagine #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes x y/n

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grandline-fics · 2 days ago

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Love Potion

DESCRIPTION: Love Potion- You were both only pretending to date. The feelings aren't real...right?

WARNINGS: none

CHARACTERS: Smoker

WORDS: 1,663

A/N: Thank you @missrandomdreamer for requesting this one for the Valentine's Event. Hope you like what I came up with for this one, Smoker deserves the love so hopefully I did him justice on this. As always thank you everyone for your support. Enjoy ♥️

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

DIRECTORY | PROMPT LIST | KO-FI | VALENTINES EVENT MASTERLIST

———————

“Is this really necessary?” Smoker grumbled around the cigars in his mouth as he shut the door to your room closed firmly. “I’m in perfect shape.”

“Every active member on this base has to undergo routine physicals, Vice-Admiral.” You spoke up from your desk as you grabbed his file and a pen. Even when he was wounded he protested the need to be tended to and while you were already expecting him to clear all your checks with no issues, you still had your job to do. Apologetically you looked at him as you rose. “No exceptions.”

Smoker made a disgruntled noise and glared at the examination bed he’d yet to approach. He swiftly turned his glare your way when you snatched the cigars from his mouth with ease and stubbed them out on the ashtray you always made sure to have in the room in the event Smoker would be coming by. You accepted his ire with an effortless smile, used to his perpetual grumpy and serious expression at this point. Lightly you nudged him along towards the bed. With all his strength and training he could have remained rooted in the spot had he wished but at your touch he relented and moved, eager to just get this over with.

As he sat down and zoned out, letting you do whatever checks and assessments necessary he began to think about how being here was actually a nice break. You weren’t going to pester him about changing the training schedule or beg to swap missions with another member of the base, you weren’t going to chase him about reports he forgot-or just didn’t care about- handing in for the higher ups at Marine’s main Headquarters. Best of all, any conversation you shared with him was appropriate and never prying beyond clear boundaries, unlike those under his command who thought any facet and avenue in his life was theirs to know and analyse obsessively over. Suddenly you made a surprised hum and he pulled himself out of his thoughts to see you studying his face carefully. “What were you thinking about?”

“Why?” Smoker couldn’t help but become defensive, ready to argue that whatever you spotted or noticed in your tests was false.

“It caused a spike in your otherwise steady blood pressure.” You explained, lips curving in slight amusement. Lightly you tapped your medical notes. “Can’t clear you if there’s a possibility of an underlying condition affecting your blood pressure or an area of stress that could hinder your work.”

“It’s nothing.” Smoker explained firmly. “Nothing for you to worry over. I’m not going to complain over something insignificant and stupid.”

“Wouldn’t call this spike insignificant. Come on tell me and I can help. It’s what doctors are for right?”

“I was getting annoyed about the subordinates prying into my personal life. They’re like gossiping teenagers sometimes.”

“Is that all?” You asked with a laugh, stepping away from him and unhooking the blood pressure monitor. “What do you expect? They’re bored in between missions and you’re the best source of entertainment on the base.

“I shouldn’t be entertainment, I’m their boss to be respected.” At that you snorted with an undignified burst of laughter causing him to frown. “What?”

“Oh come on! I’ve heard you swear out the higher ups countless times when they annoy you. You call that respect?” You teased, laughing again when he looked away from you and muttered about how even you were disrespectful to him. “So what did the bad subordinates pry into most recently.”

“Recently and consistently they bring up my love life or in their words ‘a tragic lack of’ one.” He scoffed. “Every mission it’s putting up with their incessant questions and on the way back it’s stupid schemes to set me up with someone.”

“It’s sweet that they care.” You reasoned only to hear him being to mutter again. With a soft sigh you grabbed his notes to update them. He was the picture of health as you both knew would be the end result. “But if it bothers you that much, take the mystery away from them and they’ll move on. Tell them you’re seeing someone.”

“Magic someone out of thin air?” Smoker shook his head. He shouldn’t have even entertained the notion. His life was his own, he didn’t need to lie or divulge information if he didn’t wish to. “They might act like fools but creating a pretend lover is something even they’d notice a mile off.”

“Sooo don’t make up someone. Use someone they know?” You advised, moving to your desk to officially give Smoker’s physical the stamp of approval needed. Seeing you move, Smoker fixed his jacket and pulled out two fresh cigars to light but for once he didn’t make his way to the door with a gruff ‘thanks Doc’ like he normally did, he was too caught up in your words as you continued. “Then after a couple weeks, stage a break up and they’ll leave you and your personal life alone while you deal with it in your own way.”

“Who am I going to rope into this scheme that I know won’t blab what’s really going on?” Smoker asked while stepping closer to the desk. His interest was piqued and it seemed like a solid enough plan but he knew that gossip spread fast in the G5 base. The last thing he needed was to risk extra insult to his pride if his subordinates knew he was lying. Smoker was surprised when you lifted your head and smiled at him expectantly. “Wait. You’d go along with this?”

“Why not? Helps you out from getting your blood pressure dangerously high again.” You shrugged simply. “Besides, doctor-patient confidentiality means I can’t tell anyone. What do you say?”

A few minutes later one of the G5 Marines rounded the corner, preparing for his routine physical only to slide to a complete stop in shock. The sight of Vice-Admiral Smoker, his leader straightening from what was most certainly a kiss with the base’s top doctor. The Marine froze when Smoker turned sharply to glare at him while you bit your lower lip shyly and looked away from the wide-eyed gaze of the Marine who interrupted such a sweet and tender moment. Smoker dropped his hand from your lower back and walked towards the Marine. “Whatever you think you saw. You didn’t.”

Smoker continued on his way, the Marine unable to see his smirk as everything was already set in motion. By the end of the afternoon it was all through the base, some iterations of the events witnessed exaggerated or completely different but it all got Smoker what he wanted; for his subordinates to have something to distract them from him. Technically they were still fixated on him, but now that they believed he was seeing you, they were now talking amongst themselves about the matter and leaving him alone.

Throughout the day he’d overheard the conversations both mixed and speculative. Some tried to work out when the romance had started and even that split theories and opinions. It had to have been recent because there was no way you both had hidden it for so long. It had to have been going on for a long time because it would explain why Smoker never looked at anyone else both off and on base. Some even declared they’d always known something was going on between Smoker and you and either way it was about damn time.

For the next few weeks you and Smoker continued your subtle theatrics of being a couple and as you’d predicted the base that now there was no mystery to work out with Smoker’s love life, the base asked less questions. However when you appeared, even if it was passing by in the corridor the Marines looked your way in curiosity. Sometimes you did steal him away to say something useless or unimportant, just so you both appeared to be sharing a quick moment together when really it was just to keep your audience’s interest sated. One evening you found yourself in Smoker’s office, a new development that had occurred from your joint deception. While he finished reports at his desk, you reviewed your own medical reports from the comfort of the sofa he rarely seemed to use. While you both worked you engaged in idle but content conversation.

“A friend of mine from one of the G7 base was in touch today.” You spoke up with an amused smile, not taking your eyes from your notes as you worked. “We’re one of the topics of conversation there too.” Smoker chuckled slightly at your report of how far the gossip had spread.

“The interest in our relationship hasn’t died down at all.” He said with a small shake of his head.

“They’re so invested. They’ll be heartbroken when we end things.” You mused, too busy reading to notice Smoker's hand still in the writing of his own reports. He only now realised that that was the next stage in the plan; breaking up to gain full privacy again. Smoker hesitated to even admit it but he truly did enjoy your company. You were easy to be around, brought him a certain calm that he enjoyed. He tensed slightly when you asked him. “Have you considered when it’ll happen?”

“Uh…no. Not yet.” He admitted, that much he could confess. “They gossip but they're behaving for the most part, might just wait until they start to get bored. If that’s okay?”

“Of course, just let me know whenever you’re ready.” Smoker glanced at you in time to see you finally glance his way and offer him a relaxed but warm smile. The same smile he found himself looking for a little more each day. Whenever he was ready? Something gnawed at him in the uncomfortable realisation that perhaps the only thing he wanted to end with you was the pretending.

——————————————-

TAG LIST (If I’ve missed anyone or if you want to be added just let me know) @3v37773, @tsaaps , @i-am-all-love-puns-and-lazy , @sanemisnonexistenteyebrow , @fiery-captain-spider-santa, @kabloswrld , @atanukileaf , @ane5e , @stuckinthewrongworld , @deathsmajestysworld , @cloudysunset04 , @chillerkiller , @extremely-ashtridic , @decayingpizza , @liesatemyocean , @ace-for-ace , @nerium-lil , @destynelseclipsa , @dreamcastgirl99 , @my-name-is-heartache , @iamn1ya , @yunho-leeknow , @hinata7346 , @h0oouwlss , @missrandomdreamer , @sleepykittycx , @ddawn111 , @jaygrl22 , @sylum , @acehyacinth , @resident-cryptid , @treelogirl , @maellem , @its-a-dam-blue-brick , @thulhu , @appalost , @dindjarins1ut , @irumawife , @laidenbreecatchall , @redwolfxx , @jevoislesbrasdemer , @schanwow , @pao198391 , @glitchtricks94 , @nina-ya , @48daisies , @sagyunaro , @artemis162534 , @rosemary-lungs , @thecraftywriter , @rorozorolover , @yagirlsmuchelle , @engenemoazen , @sukunasstomachtongue , @nico-ith

#one piece #one piece scenario #one piece fic #one piece fanfiction #one piece imagines #grandline fics valentines event #one piece x reader #one piece x you #smoker x you #smoker x reader #one piece smoker #white hunter smoker #vice admiral smoker x reader #vice admiral smoker #vice admiral smoker x you #smoker op #smoker one piece #op smoker

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rgwriteshockey · 18 hours ago

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summer on the lake w/ jack hughes ⇨

jack hughes x reader

summary: jack hughes invites you to spend the summer at his lake house, hoping for a break from hockey life. as you both hang out by the water, kayak, and have late-night talks, you start to feel something more between you. when his brothers, luke and quinn, show up for the weekend, things get even more fun and chaotic. with the relaxed vibe of the house and the laughter of his family, you feel right at home. by the end of the summer, you realize it’s not just the lake house that’s special—it’s the start of something real with jack.

word count: 1.8k

warnings: kinda a slow burn, mild language, and light angst

a/n: my first fic omg!! i am so excited to finally start fic writing. leave any comments or suggestions in the comments and i hope you enjoy! send requests!!

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the warm summer breeze carried the scent of pine and fresh water through the tall trees that surrounded jack hughes' secluded lake house. the new jersey devils star had spent countless summers here in the past, the tranquil escape offering the perfect retreat from the high-paced life of professional hockey. but this summer felt different. with the end of another hard-fought season, jack was ready for a fresh start—a fresh start with you.

you had known jack for a few years now, meeting through a mutual friend, and after spending some time together last summer, the two of you had grown closer. it wasn’t a traditional friendship—at times it felt like something more, but neither of you had ever said anything. you had a comfortable bond, one that came easily, filled with laughter and late-night talks, but both of you had been hesitant to cross that line.

when jack had invited you up to his lake house for the summer, you had been hesitant at first. the idea of being stuck with one of the most successful player in the nhl in an isolated house on a lake sounded like something out of a dream, but you couldn’t help the anxiety creeping up in the pit of your stomach. what if things changed between you? what if that easy comfort was lost when there were only the two of you, day after day?

but there you were, standing in front of the house now, watching jack unloading his car from the deck. the lake sparkled in the distance, surrounded by the dense woods, making the place feel like a hidden paradise. the nerves settled a little as you spotted jack smiling at you from the front porch, a carefree, relaxed expression that you hadn’t seen in a while.

"hey," jack called, waving his hand as he jogged over. "you're here!"

you smiled, grateful for the ease he carried with him. "yeah, finally. this place is amazing."

"right? i love it here," jack replied, his voice full of pride. "it’s the perfect spot to relax, you know?"

as he dropped your bags onto the porch and ushered you inside, you could already feel the stress of your daily life start to dissipate. the house was exactly as you remembered it—a mix of rustic charm and modern comfort, with large windows that looked out over the lake. it felt like an oasis.

"can i get you something to drink? we’ve got everything stocked," jack asked, already digging through the kitchen. "want a beer or something? or i’ve got some iced tea."

"iced tea sounds perfect," you answered, setting your things down on the couch. jack returned with two glasses, handing you one as you both settled into the cozy living room.

"i’m glad you came up," jack said quietly, a little more serious than usual. "i know it’s kind of a big ask, but i think we’ll have a good time."

you nodded, taking a sip of the cold, sweet iced tea. "i’m glad i came, too."

jack leaned back on the couch, his usual relaxed posture taking over again. he looked comfortable, at ease, but there was something else in his eyes—a curiosity that hadn’t been there before. it was like he was waiting for something to shift.

"so, what do you think?" jack asked after a moment. "it’s just you and me here for the next couple of weeks, and i figure we should make the most of it."

"i think that sounds amazing," you replied with a smile. "what do you usually do when you’re here?"

"oh, you know," jack said with a grin. "i swim, kayak, go for a run in the mornings. but i’m sure we can find something fun to do. i’m open to whatever."

you both laughed, and for a moment, the nerves melted away. you were here for an adventure, and you were sure it would be the kind of summer you’d never forget.

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the next few days passed in a blur of sunshine, cool drinks, and lazy afternoons by the water. jack had shown you the lake, introducing you to his favorite spots—the hidden cove, the cliff that overlooked the vast expanse of blue. you had spent hours kayaking, the two of you racing to see who could get to the other side of the lake first, only to laugh when you both ended up falling into the water anyway. there were nights by the fire pit, roasting marshmallows and telling stories, the stars overhead so bright they seemed like they could touch you. the days were simple and full of joy, but something was starting to linger in the air, something neither of you wanted to acknowledge.

it was on one of those lazy afternoons when the tension finally broke. jack had invited you for a walk down a trail near the lake, the sound of the water rippling beside you as you walked side by side in comfortable silence.

"this place is really special to me," jack said softly, his voice almost lost in the rustling of the trees.

"i can tell," you said, looking up at him with a soft smile. "it’s beautiful here. i can see why you love it so much."

jack glanced over at you, his expression a little more serious than usual. "it’s more than just the place. it’s like... i can just be myself here. no pressure, no distractions. just peace."

you nodded, unsure of how to respond to that, the weight of his words hanging between you. there was something intimate about what he had said, something raw. you had always seen jack as this happy-go-lucky hockey player with an easy smile and carefree attitude, but in that moment, you saw another side of him—one that longed for simplicity and connection.

"you know," jack continued, stopping in his tracks and turning to face you, "there’s something i’ve been meaning to say for a while now."

your heart skipped a beat. was this the moment? was he about to say what you’d both been dancing around since you’d gotten here? before you could open your mouth to ask, jack’s phone buzzed in his pocket, cutting off the moment.

"sorry," he said quickly, checking the screen. "it’s just my brother. he’s probably asking if i’m going to show up for the family bbq this weekend."

"don’t worry about it," you said, a little disappointed but understanding. "you should probably get back to him."

jack hesitated for a second, staring at his phone with an unreadable expression before slipping it back in his pocket. "actually, maybe i’ll just forget it for a bit," he said, a playful grin returning to his face. "we’re here. let’s enjoy the moment."

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later that week, jack’s brothers—luke and quinn—showed up for the weekend, bringing a whole new dynamic to the lake house. you had met them a few times before, but never in such a relaxed, laid-back environment. luke, the youngest brother, was full of energy, constantly trying to get jack to do something competitive, while quinn, the eldest, was a bit more reserved but just as charming in his own way. the house was suddenly buzzing with the chaos of their arrival.

"finally, you invited us up here!" luke said, tossing a bag on the porch and giving jack a playful shove. "figured we’d have to track you down to get some family time."

jack grinned, rolling his eyes. "you guys are lucky i actually like having you here."

"yeah, yeah, i’m sure," luke shot back, raising an eyebrow. "where’s your friend, though? didn’t think you'd come up here without them."

you stood a little awkwardly on the porch, unsure of how to respond, but jack gave you a quick glance and then a reassuring smile.

"they’re inside," jack said, nodding toward the door. "you’ll meet them soon enough."

"nice," luke said, his voice full of sarcasm. "we’ll give you two a minute, but the bbq is happening, and you can’t miss quinn’s famous ribs."

quinn smiled from the porch, his deep green eyes lighting up with a grin. "trust me, you’ll want to be there. nobody does ribs like me."

"we’re coming, don’t worry," jack said, clapping quinn on the back as he walked inside to grab a few things. luke followed suit, but you were left standing there for a moment, taking in the sound of the lake and the easy laughter that echoed through the air.

jack’s brothers had this effortless, playful vibe that immediately made you feel comfortable, like you had known them for years. the conversation was light, the jokes were easy, and it felt like family, even though you weren’t technically a part of it—yet.

as the evening went on, the bbq was in full swing, and the tension from earlier in the week seemed to disappear entirely. you found yourself laughing with the three brothers as they tried to one-up each other with ridiculous stories and impromptu challenges. jack’s laughter was contagious, and you couldn’t help but feel more and more at home with each passing hour.

later, after everyone had eaten their fill and the fire was crackling in the pit, you and jack stood by the water, quietly watching the sunset. luke and quinn had disappeared inside, leaving you two alone again.

"how’s it been so far?" jack asked, his voice soft.

"honestly?" you said, turning to look at him. "i didn’t think i’d have this much fun. your brothers are pretty great."

jack smiled, his expression a little more serious than usual. "i’m glad you’re here. they really like you, by the way."

you laughed. "i like them too. they’re... a lot."

"yeah," jack said with a chuckle. "but they’re good guys. and it’s nice to have you here with me. it feels... right."

the air between you shifted again, and for the first time all week, you could feel the distance between you closing. jack’s words were simple, but they carried so much weight. the summer, the lake house, his brothers—it all felt like it was leading to something bigger.

as the sun dipped below the horizon, you turned to jack, the words on the tip of your tongue. this moment, this summer, was something you’d never forget. and, maybe, just maybe, it was the beginning of something real.

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the summer at jack’s lake house was more than just a vacation. it was a turning point. the days spent by the water, the laughter shared with his brothers, and the quiet moments between you and jack—it all came together, and it felt like the start of something much bigger. something full of possibility. and with each passing day, you couldn’t wait to see where it would lead.

#jack hughes x reader #jack hughes imagine #nhl x reader #jack hughes #nhl x you #nhl fic #nhl imagine #jack hughes lakehouse #new jersey devils

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marvelwitchergilmore · 7 hours ago

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Ready for Sleep

Summary: Bucky Barnes x fe!Reader -> You fall asleep with Bucky after a tough mission.

Disclaimer: mentions of body injuries from a mission, established relationship, domestic fluff, short read. Not proof read.

You were ready to sleep for a year. Three severely bruised ribs and two dozen other bruises scattered across your entire body, a stiff neck that had been reminded a little by a hot shower, at least a dozen cuts and scrapes to your skin and enough images that will probably pop up one random night in a nightmare when you’re least expecting it. It was safe to say you were tired.

Bucky had spent most of his morning reading. After two back to back missions, he’d been ready for a break so when Banner and Cho had forced Fury’s hand and allowed both himself and Sam to take a few weeks rest, he was more than happy to take it.

He hadn’t heard you come back. Nor had he heard you limp down the hallway towards your room a few hours before his alarm went off. But he heard you when you walked into the living area just a little after two.

“Hey- oh-”

Holding the book still on his chest, Bucky looked over at you as you slowly made your way inside and across the room to him. Your hair was down and wet from your shower, your clothes had been changed from your standard black tactical gear to a fresh black t-shirt and a pair of shorts.

“No, no, stay where you are.” You said to Bucky as he began to move. But you didn’t want to have to be constantly moving. You were ready to sleep.

“What happened? I thought you weren’t getting back until tomorrow.”

Almost as easy as breathing, Bucky spread his legs a little and helped you down onto the sofa with him until you were lying comfortably beside him.

“We wrapped up early since we kinda got caught. Nothing’s broken, I promise.” Bucky’s hand softly rubbed at your arm as you got comfortable. He pressed a short kiss to your hairline.

“Why didn’t somebody call-”

“I asked them not to.” You looked up at him. “You would have been worrying for nothing.”

Bucky just gave you the look of someone still should have called me.

“I promise. I’m okay. I just want to sleep.”

Bucky nodded. “Okay.” Then he kissed you.

If his kiss couldn’t heal you, nothing could.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

You graced him with a softened smile. “I am now.”

Bucky smiled down at you before kissing you slowly again, his hand softly wrapping around your wrist that lay on his chest. It was something he’d done since the beginning – counting the beats of your heart through your pulse. A reminder to him that you were real and not a figment of his imagination.

“Want to tell me what happened?”

You were slow to nod. You’d already said everything on the video report on your way back home so it wasn’t like you needed to. But he was a worrier. And you found it easier talking to him than you did most people.

“It was by complete accident. One of their new recruits didn’t know their way around the base so took a few wrong turns and ended up finding us. They did what they’d been told to do and pressed their button which alerted everyone else. From there, it was what you’d expect. Lots of noise, a lotta shouting and enough dust to give the desert a run for its money.”

Bucky chuckled and you felt the rumble in his chest under your ear. Softly, his fingers traced up and down your arm and side as you continued to explain.

“We got what we went for. Though I paid a pretty good price for it.”

“How many?”

“Three. Bruised though, not broken. We landed this morning and I’ve already left everything for Hill on her desk.”

Bucky hummed. “You know she’s gonna be mad you broke into her office again.”

“Then she shouldn’t make it so easy for me to get in.”

Bucky chuckled again. “Anything else?”

You shook your head. “Not really. Came back here, took about an hour to get undressed and get into the shower.”

“Why didn’t you come and get me?”

“Didn’t want to wake you.”

A small scoff came from the back of his throat. “I’d rather you come and wake me up than put yourself through more pain.”

You just looked up at him. “I’m okay, Buck. I promise. Besides, it probably would have taken longer for me to get in the shower with you there.”

You didn’t miss the way the blush dusted his cheeks and ears when he realised what you were talking about. Then he laughed. “Okay, maybe you’ve got a point.”

You just smiled and kissed him again.

“Want me to get you anything?”

You shook your head. “Not yet. I just need you and some sleep.”

With a soft smile, he kissed you again. “I think I can do that.”

Reaching to the back of the sofa, he pulled the thin blanket over you and him as you laid your head back on his chest. Within minutes you were fast asleep, his heartbeat beating steady in his chest helping you do so.

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okay-j-hannah · 2 days ago

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Part 1: Sugared Coffee

Criminal Minds : Multishot

Spencer Reid x Reader

Word Count: 7554

Warnings: set around season 3 {aka 2007}, slow burn, strangers to friends, friends to lovers, pining on Reid’s part, phobia of needles, PTSD, usual criminal minds level of violence and creepy unsubs, mentions of serial killers and the sick things they do, panic attacks, statistics and quotes I can provide references for

Request: This just came from my own head 😊

A/N: While taking a break from writing my Teen Wolf series, I stumbled onto this little idea 😅 I've been in love with Spencer Reid since 15 years old - and I still haven't written a series with him... WHICH IS A CRIME

~~~

The Quantico buildings stood out pale and dim within the autumn trees. The dead, fall colors of red and orange encased the sidewalks and scented the air with a farmstead crispness. It was a smell you knew you wouldn’t forget as you stood before the main building.

Dressed in a blue button down and a black blazer, you thumbed the plastic sleeve of your new badge. FBI, it said in blue block letters, Behavioral Analysis Unit. This was a step closer to your new life.

Maybe this will be your chance to catch the son of a bitch. Maybe this will be your chance to stop others in the meantime. Maybe this is your chance to stay safe with a new team and a new badge, stifling the feeling of fear that always rested in your diaphragm.

For now you know you will always remember that your first day at the BAU smelled like fall leaves.

~~~

The office felt slower than usual, which could be seen as a reprieve, but it made the team restless. Most of them were catching up on paperwork, or at least taking their time with details. Reid had flown through a list of research papers and true crime novels by the time lunch rolled around.

“I thought we all had paperwork to do.” Prentiss called over, rubbing an ink smudge on her finger, “How come you’re reading crime fiction?”

Reid’s finger stopped running midway through a page in his book. “It’s not fiction, this is a true crime biography written by O.J. Simpson about if he hypothetically committed the murders of Nicole Brown and Ron Goldman.”

Prentiss raised her eyebrows, tossing her pen onto her desk, “If I was found not guilty for a murder, I would try to put the whole thing behind me. Not write a book detailing what I would do if I actually did it.”

“You finished your paperwork?” Morgan asked, entering the bullpen with a yellow pad of paper. He tore off the top page and sat across from Reid. “I thought you were a speed reader, not a speed writer.”

“I have a lot of free time at home,” Reid said, looking down at his book again.

Morgan laughed, balling up the yellow piece of paper and tossing it at Reid’s head. “Pretty boy needs a pretty girl in his life.”

Reid swatted at where the paper ball bounced off his face. “Stop finding reasons to avoid your work.”

“Woah,” Morgan grinned, “Someone’s a little feisty today.”

“You would be too if someone kept interrupting you while you’re trying to read.”

“Hey, have you heard if that new recruit is coming in today?” Prentiss asked, laying back in her chair and massaging her writing hand.

Morgan shrugged, twisting around in his own chair, “Hotch said interviews ended over a week ago.”

“They’re being pretty secret about the whole thing,” Prentiss went on, “Makes you wonder who they are.”

“I heard Rossi had something to do with it,” Morgan said, “Persuaded Hotch to make the unpopular choice.”

Reid closed his book, unable to concentrate, “That would mean the new guy has a personal connection with Rossi.”

“New girl, it seems,” Morgan said, eyes moving to the office doors to find Hotch escorting a professionally dressed woman.

Reid looked over as well, noticing a few things immediately, profiler that he was. This new recruit held herself tall, speaking of her confidence entering the room. Although her eyes were open wide as if she were trying to see everything all at once. It gave her expression the look of being frightened.

But the hesitant smile on her face spoke of kindness.

She was a walking contradiction. Her handshake was firm, shoulders squared, voice steady and confident. But her breath was shallow, and her eyes gave the appearance of a deer stuck in the headlights.

The conclusion was that this new recruit was confident in her abilities and wanted to be there. But she felt like she had to prove herself, terrified that something would cause her to be kicked off the team.

“This is SSA Derek Morgan,” Hotch introduced, “And SSA Emily Prentiss.”

“Hello,” the new recruit said, shaking each hand.

“And Dr. Spencer Reid,” Hotch gestured towards him, “We’ve found you some competition.”

The girl looked at Reid with a wide smile and it struck him how pretty she was. He blinked dumbly a few times, face blank when he replied, “Competition?” His throat felt incredibly dry.

“This is SSA (Y/N) (Y/L/N),” Hotch continued, “I was just telling her how we had an early graduate already on our team.”

Reid cleared his throat to combat the dryness, “You graduated school early?”

She nodded slowly, “Highschool and college.” She was quiet – shy in stating her accomplishments.

Hotch continued for her, “Had her bachelor’s degree by eighteen.”

(Y/N) sucked in a breath, rushing out, “And my master’s degree by twenty-two.”

“Our genius beats you by a few years,” Morgan grins.

“The eidetic memory helps,” Prentiss scoffs.

(Y/N) smiled again, “It’d be nice to bounce ideas off another brainiac.” She regards Reid with a warmer expression.

He was suddenly overcome with a sense of familiarity, as if he had seen her face somewhere before. He ran her name through his mind, trying to remember if he had read it or just heard it before.

“Speechless, Reid?” Morgan asked, grinning like he knew something everyone else didn’t. “I guess there’s a first time for everything.”

Everyone laughed as Reid tried to clear his mind. (Y/N) was looking at him with such fondness, he hoped it wasn’t pity for his strange and endearing behavior. He surprised himself by realizing he wanted her to like him. Like him a lot.

~~~

You leaned into the cushions of the jet seats, fingers running along your ribcage, at the little scar you knew was there. You take a deep breath, reminding yourself that you could.

“Alright, so families are being targeted in their homes with variations of the anthrax bacteria,” Hotch said, leading the team in the next case. “What do we notice about these cases?”

“These don’t seem like full scale terrorist attacks that are usually associated with anthrax,” Morgan said, flipping through the files, “But these could just be test subjects before some biological warfare.”

“Being isolated to just families within their homes gives the appearance of a simple virus passing through,” Prentiss said, “Usually when one family member gets sick they assume everyone will eventually.”

Rossi sighed, “Which kept families from reporting to the hospital until it was too late.”

“It’s also interesting that the unsub is using different anthrax forms,” J.J. continued, looking at the case photos with disgust, “Maybe they’re testing the effectiveness of each.”

Reid had a few knuckles resting against his chin, “We’ve seen inhalation anthrax in previous attacks, which affects the lungs of the infected and presents as flu-like symptoms.”

“There’s also intestinal anthrax, which comes from ingesting the bacteria,” you say quickly, “As well as cutaneous anthrax, which only affects the skin.”

“But we all know that inhalation anthrax is the deadliest,” Hotch said, “It’s been reported as the most fatal.”

“So why is the unsub using these different forms?” Morgan asked.

You thumb through the victim photos, “Maybe the unsub isn’t testing anything. Maybe they just enjoy infecting the family and watching the chaos ensue.”

“What makes you say that?” Hotch asked.

You sigh, feeling the attention being placed on you. A few of your fingers search for the little scar against your ribcage, tracing the slightly raised skin beneath your shirt. “If the goal of infecting the victims is to kill them, then using cutaneous or intestinal anthrax isn’t optimal. As soon as a cutaneous rash or ulcer appears, then you treat it with topical antibiotics and survival is very likely. And the only way intestinal anthrax will kill is if it somehow enters the bloodstream.”

“They could be enjoying the panic of sick families,” Rossi muttered to himself.

“The unsub might be using those forms in addition to inhalation because they want to see ultimate suffering,” you continue.

Morgan leaned forward, “Start with inhalation to incapacitate the victims. Then infect them with the other forms later.”

Hotch nodded in agreement, “Good work, (Y/N). I don’t think we are afraid of a terrorist attack. This is an unsub that enjoys isolating and infecting whole families.”

You swallow hard, proud of yourself for having an idea that might be plausible. This only being your third case with the team meant still trying to find your place among them.

Morgan was relaxed across from you, watching you for a few seconds, “You okay?”

You snap your eyes to him, “Yeah, why?”

He shrugged, looking down to your hand, “You have a nervous tick.”

Your hand instantly left the little scar you often traced, “Don’t we all?” you try to smile, “This is a time sensitive case.”

“Most of them are,” Morgan said, observing you, “There’s something you especially don’t like about this one.”

“What gives you that impression?” you ask, monitoring your own actions to try not to give yourself away.

“I don’t know you all that well…” he said.

You shake your head quickly, “No, you don’t.”

“… but I’ve seen you in some high stress situations the last couple of weeks. And I’ve noticed when you’re a little shaken.”

You close the case file, staring down at it with some apprehension. “Another form of anthrax is injection.”

Morgan looked at you with confusion, “Like with a needle?”

“That’s enough,” Rossi said from a few seats away, “Isn’t there a rule about profiling each other?”

“Papa Rossi to the rescue,” Morgan said with a small smile. “I was just concerned, that’s all.”

You give him a little nod, “I get it.” You give Rossi a stern, knowing look and he waved away your glare.

“We should grab a drink sometime,” Morgan continued, flashing his eyes in Reid’s direction. “It’d be nice to get to know you more.”

You laugh, “The most exciting thing about me, Derek, is this job.”

“Still,” Morgan stretched, “Where you from?”

A little huff escaped your lips as the jet began its descent, “Arizona.”

“What part?”

“Flagstaff,” you say slowly, “Why does this sound like an interrogation?” You were smiling, almost encouraging Morgan’s teasing tone.

“Family? Boyfriend? Girlfriend?”

You shake your head, “Parents back home. And no.” You notice how Reid suddenly put down the book he was reading to give his undivided attention.

“Alright.”

A laugh escapes you, “That’s all you wanted to know?”

“For now, sweetheart,” he said, giving a wink to Reid when you looked away. “Prentiss and I can scope out the first victim’s house.”

Hotch nodded, watching the jet get closer to the ground, “Good. Rossi, you and J.J. can look at the second victim’s house. Reid and (Y/N) – you two can go to the hospital to get more information on the symptoms and treatment of the victims. I’ll set up base at the local police station.”

Morgan seemed pleased about something as he got ready for the landing. Reid gave a little wave to you but seemed embarrassed by the action as he looked away immediately.

~~~

You sit behind the wheel of the SUV, Reid in the passenger seat twiddling his thumbs in his lap. You could tell he wanted to talk but didn’t know what to say. If you had it your way, you’d prefer to keep your silence while he rambled on about whatever was on his mind.

That way you wouldn’t have to talk. The less you talk the less likely you’ll share something you would regret.

“I found out recently that there’s a stage theatre in Virginia that puts on Shakespeare plays,” you say quietly.

Reid turns to you with raised eyebrows, “The Blackfriars Playhouse?”

You nod, “I hear it’s the world’s only re-creation of Shakespeare’s indoor theatre.”

“Yes, it started out as a traveling troupe that performed in countries around the world. They were taken in by the International Shakespeare Globe Centre and featured in England. In 1999 they changed their name to Shenandoah Shakespeare and moved to Staunton, Virginia. It took two years for the Blackfriars Playhouse to be built, and since then they’ve rebranded as the American Shakespeare Center that educates aspiring actors and performs using Renaissance rehearsal practices to showcase Shakespeare’s greatest works on their Globe Theatre stage.”

You start to relax against the wheel, “I saw somewhere that they’re having a year long conference.”

Reid was getting all excited, sitting on the edge of his seat and smiling with his words, “They are! The ASC is partnering with Shakespeare’s Globe in London. You’re a fan of Shakespeare?”

You give a polite nod, “As long as it’s on the stage. Shakespeare was meant to be watched, not just read.”

“Exactly!” he was thrilled to find something in common with you. “What is your favorite play?”

“Probably Much Ado About Nothing.”

“A comedy,” Reid said, “It’s one of my favorites too. Did you know that Much Ado About Nothing is considered one of Shakespeare’s greatest comedies? Although a similar trope of a happy ending, united lovers, and a villain receiving justice is seen in both The Merchant of Venice and A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Much Ado About Nothing also features more prose than just about any other Shakespearean play.”

You smile, confused, “Prose?”

“Prose is the written or spoken language in its ordinary form, meaning without the use of a metrical structure. It follows the natural flow of speech and differs from most traditional poetry. Much Ado About Nothing is about 75% prose and only 25% actual poetry verse. Verse is used to express more emotional statements, so that essentially proves how much of a comedy the play is because 75% of the material is used to express whimsical thoughts.”

You kept smiling, turning to enter the hospital parking lot. “I had no idea.”

It was quiet for a second before Reid cleared his throat, “I was rambling, wasn’t I?”

“Don’t worry,” you say, “I like it.”

Reid squirmed in his seat, warmth blooming in his chest, “I’m sorry, I should give you more of a chance to talk. Did you bring up the Blackfriars Playhouse because you wanted to see a show?”

You open the car door, “Maybe. Let’s get this over with.”

He scrambles out of the car, readjusting his side bag. “Okay.” You could tell he wanted to continue your conversation, but you brushed it off as you both enter the building to talk to the chief of the hospital.

You held back a shiver as you meet with staff in the urgent care ward. They told you of the severity of the anthrax murders, the horrific symptoms presented in the victims. They confirmed how quickly the bacteria affects a person and travels to everyone within a household.

“It would be easily transmitted between family members,” the doctor expressed.

“We believe the man we’re looking for is entering the home and tainting their food, infecting their air conditioning units, and injecting them in their sleep,” Reid says.

The doctor nods, “I can say the inhalation infection was there the longest, meaning it was the first form used. Cutaneous infection through injections hasn’t been present as long.”

“Meaning the unsub is entering the house a second time to infect them with a different form,” you say, “This guy likes to stick around and watch.” You trace the little scar against your ribcage, fingers lowering to another pinprick scar against your abdomen.

“Thank you for your time,” Reid said, hands stuffed in his pockets.

“Of course,” the doctor said, “And before I forget, your unit chief wanted your team treated to prevent an anthrax infection.”

Reid nodded in understanding, but you start to seize, “How?”

A nurse leaves to grab some supplies as the doctor states calmly, “Antibiotics and the anthrax vaccine. We usually only recommend it for individuals that are at risk.”

“And that comes in a pill form?” you ask quickly. Reid looks at you suddenly from your tone of voice.

“The antibiotics do,” the doctor says, pulling out some paperwork, “But the vaccine comes in an injection.”

Pain enters your side. You know it’s most likely a phantom pain, but you can’t escape the feeling of terror bubbling in your diaphragm. It popped and sizzled into your lungs, bringing you back to the familiar sensation of your lungs being punctured.

You attempted to mask the reaction – hold back the sweat wetting your palms and creeping up your neck. You cooled your tone as you cleared your throat. You didn’t even want to see the vaccine.

Reid was being directed to sit down and roll up his sleeve, which he did while keeping his eyes trained on you. You didn’t want to see the confusion and worry in his face.

You run your fingers through your hair, holding back the shakiness of your hands, “I uh… I need to run to the bathroom real quick.”

You didn’t hear any response as you sped to the nearest bathroom. White noise was buzzing in your ears, dots of pain appearing across your front, like little beestings. You knew it was just a memory, and you clenched either side of the porcelain sink telling yourself that.

Of course you knew a spiral was going to happen. It was one of the main reasons Hotchner didn’t want to hire you in the first place. But you had hoped you’d be a few more cases in before it happened.

You breathed through the terror, splashed your face with cold water, and flexed your fingers. You grounded yourself with your surroundings: Tiled floors, white walls, soap scum on the sink, faint bleach smell, water dripping down the drain.

Straightening out, you took a deep breath, no sharp stabbing pain – the fear trickling back into its containment in your diaphragm.

You straighten the hairs framing your face, wiping the speckle of water against your chin. Your phone started ringing.

“Hello?”

“Hi, gorgeous,” came a bright sing-song voice, “How’s my new bestie?”

A smile finally breaks the grimness of your face, “Garcia.”

“Yeah, hi – Hotch is asking that everyone meets back at the station. We just found a connection between the families. They’re both customers of the same plumbing company.”

“Which would give someone access to their drinking water and air conditioning.”

“Oh, I didn’t even think about infecting the water supply,” Garcia said, a smile clear in her voice, “I knew boy genius was going to have some competition with you.”

“Thanks, Garcia,” you say, sliding the phone back in your pocket. You exit the bathroom and find Reid waiting by the front doors. His face was placid, but his brow furrowed upon seeing you.

His throat bobbed before he spoke. “You okay?”

“Yeah, Hotch wants us back at the police station.” You walked right past him and out to the parking lot.

Reid had to jog to catch up to you, pointing back at the hospital, “Did you get the vaccine?”

“I’m fine,” you say, getting in the car, “The team made a connection between the victims.”

It was obvious that he didn’t believe you, but he was too intimidated by your evasion that he kept his mouth shut. The warmth that bloomed in his chest at sharing a car ride with you was still there. He wanted it to stay – he didn’t want to jeopardize the possible friendship growing between you.

Looking at you drive, more tense than he’s seen you before, he was struck again with how familiar you were. Whether your name or your face, he didn’t know but he could’ve sworn he’d heard of you before.

It had only been a few weeks, but he knew he already had it bad. He was becoming infatuated with you.

~~~

The team had dispersed again, taking part in investigating new suspects at the plumbing company. (Y/N) and Hotch were in the next room interrogating a lead while Reid updated the geographical profile in their office.

Rossi was confirming their suspicions that another family might be targeted in the next 24 hours.

Reid capped a marker and cleared his throat, “You knew (Y/N) before she joined the BAU.”

“Yeah,” Rossi said, immediately suspicious, “What of it?”

“It’s just…” Reid continued, sitting down at the table, “I feel like I know her from somewhere, but I can’t quite place it.”

“I thought you remembered everything.”

“I remember what I read, but I think her name is something I’ve heard before.”

Rossi put his files down, giving his full attention, “Why don’t you just ask her?”

“Because I have a feeling she’ll deflect.”

“So you’re trying to go behind her back?”

Reid sighed, “No, I just… she worried me a little at the hospital. I know something is wrong.”

That sparked some interest in Rossi. He leaned forward, “What happened?”

“She basically ran away when the doctor said we needed to get a shot. She says she got one, but I think she was lying.”

Rossi was quick to answer, “A lot of people don’t like getting shots.”

“No, it was the way she reacted,” he said quietly, “It was more than just a phobia. And I know she doesn’t want to talk about it.”

“Then there’s only one thing you can do.”

Reid looked up hopefully, “What?”

“Be a good friend and respect her wishes.”

“You’re not going to tell me how you know her, are you?” Reid said, disappointed.

“It’s not my story to tell,” Rossi shrugged, “But if she’s lying about getting the vaccine, then I might talk to her. We don’t want her contracting anthrax because of a fear.”

Reid twiddled his thumbs, giving his best puppy-dog stare, “Not even a hint?”

It pulled a chuckle out of Rossi, “You like this girl.”

“Did Morgan tell you that?”

“It’s not so hard to figure out,” the old man smiled, “I’ll give you some advice. (Y/N) is a driven and stubborn woman. She’s never liked being told what she can and can’t do. But that’s only what’s on the surface. (Y/N) is one of the kindest, quirkiest, most considerate people I know. You just need to get past the hard outer shell.”

Reid nodded to himself, “We talked about Shakespeare in the car today.”

“You did?” Rossi seemed surprised, “That was quick.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you’ve already found a nerdy part of her. I thought she’d guard that for a while longer.” He was amused by the giddy happiness that entered Reid’s face, “There might be hope for you yet, kid.”

It wasn’t much later that Hotch figured out that you hadn’t taken any preventative measures against the anthrax. He ordered you back to the hospital or else stay off the case until they caught the unsub. He wasn’t going to take any chances when working with such a serious bacteria.

You, being the stubborn newbie that you are, bit your tongue and quieted the fear beginning to brew below your ribcage.

Taking advantage of the situation, Reid stepped up to escort you to the hospital. It was a quiet and tense ride to the urgent care, Reid attempting to find a way to express his concern.

“Not a fan of needles?” he asked with a lighter inflection.

You hold back a scoff, “Not really.” Your fingers are knotted and pressed tightly against your stomach.

Reid tried to keep his eyes on the road, “I don’t like them much either.”

“It’s silly, really,” you say, closing your eyes.

“No, it’s not. Everyone is afraid of something,” he rushed out, stopping you from diminishing your feelings. “I’m afraid of the dark.”

You swallow hard, “Really?”

“Some would say that’s ridiculous now that we’re adults. But you never know what’s lurking in the dark.”

It was silent for another minute before you took a shaky breath, “I have a pretty severe phobia.”

“Of what?”

You lick your lips, “Any kind of needle. Sewing needles, knitting needles, safety pins, thumbtacks, you name it. I can’t… they remind me…” You clamp your mouth shut.

Reid was hesitant but wanted to encourage you to continue, “You know you’re part of a team now. Whatever we share with each other is in confidence. We all have your back.”

I have your back, he wanted to say, You can trust me.

You tighten your hands, “They remind me of a dark place. I don’t like going there.”

Reid flexed his fingers against the steering wheel. He blinked hard before muttering, “I’ll be there with you.”

You both entered the hospital with Reid having a hand hovering against your back. He didn’t touch you, but he wanted to. He walked beside you, guiding you to sit in a chair. As soon as the nurse appeared with a sterile metal tray, you turned your head away.

Reid sat beside you, addressing the nurse.

“Afraid of needles?” she asked.

You didn’t respond so Reid said, “A little.”

“Don’t worry, honey, this will be over in a second. Just a little pinch.” She noticed how shallow your breathing had gotten, “Remember to breathe, sweetie.”

You nod, jumping when the cold wet of the alcohol wipe touched your exposed shoulder. Reid watched you tense up, gripping the armrests of the chair. He wasn’t sure what was overstepping boundaries, but he felt compelled by the concern eating him up to grab your hand.

His fingers wrapped around yours and he was relieved to find you clutching back at him. As soon as the injection touched your arm, a gasp escaped you. You were shaking in his hand and your face was screwed up against the sharp pain.

Reid never took his eyes off your face, worried at how severe your reaction was. He realized you were holding your breath as the nurse put a band-aid on your arm.

“Breathe, (Y/N),” he said quietly, “Remember to breathe.”

You inhale sharply, “Is it over?”

“Yes,” Reid said in his same calming tone, “And you’re okay. We’re all done.”

You open your eyes, finding Reid looking at you with a deep level of concern. He hadn’t let go of your hand yet and you found that grounding yourself was easier this time. No white noise filled your ears, no phantom pinpricks of pain stabbed your abdomen.

You focused on your surroundings: Reid’s warm hand holding yours, the smell of sugared coffee and mahogany on his collar, the slow breaths filling his chest, and the heat of him nearly pressed against your arm.

“Thank you,” you say softly, “That wasn’t so bad with you here.”

His heart soared out of his chest, a smile wide on his face, “Anytime.”

~~~

A month later you were settling into the team more and more. You had found little blossoms of friendship among your coworkers, except for Rossi who was determined to remain your second father.

You felt more at ease the longer time passed without suspicion about your hiring process. Though that could mean a higher chance of a slip up.

“You. Up. Drinks. Now,” Morgan had pointed a finger at you and gestured to the elevators where some of the team stood.

“Derek,” you sighed, leaning in your chair, “You know the club isn’t my kind of scene.”

He shook his head, smiling, “Not today, angel face. You’ve had an excuse the last four weekends and I know for a fact you were planning on spending your evening alone, reading and drinking your tea.”

You pursed your lips, eyes flickering to where Reid was talking to Prentiss. You had told him earlier that day of your excitement to have a free weekend to read.

“Is nothing sacred anymore?”

“Come on, pretty boy will only go if you go,” Morgan said.

And now you sat at a dimly lit table, waiting for your drink as Morgan was having a dance off with Prentiss out on the floor. She shoved him over and right into the nearest beautiful woman. Derek raised his eyebrows and sent Emily a little ‘thank you’ as he began dancing sensually with his new partner.

Emily rolled her eyes and went to find her own dance partner.

Over at the bar was J.J. and Garcia, no doubt discussing the latest Quantico gossip. Garcia, with a thin black straw between her teeth, slack jawed at the whisperings of J.J.’s news. It made you smile knowing that the analyst would corner you later to tell you what she had learned.

The low lights included a mixture of purple and blue, setting a cool tone around the people sitting at tables. You run your fingers along the table surface, noticing Reid making his way to you with two drinks.

“You look bored,” he said with a close lipped smile.

You accept the drink gratefully, “I told Derek I’m not a fan of drinks.”

“Then why did you agree to come?”

Because I knew you wouldn’t have a good time if I didn’t. You swallow, stirring your drink around with the straw, “My parents tell me I should go out every once in a while or I’ll never make any friends.”

He huffed a laugh, “You talk to your parents a lot?”

“I would every day if I let them have their way.”

“Are you close?”

You shrug your shoulders, “They worry about me.”

“Are you an only child?”

“Don’t start the profiling questions,” you say with a smirk, “But yes, I am an only child.”

Reid nods, his face heating up at being chastised. “There are a lot of studies on the effects of only children.”

“You going to say I’m a stereotypical only child that experiences overprotectiveness and spoiling from my two loving parents?”

“No,” Reid said calmly, “There are actually many studies that disprove that stereotype. Professor Toni Falbo from the University of Texas found that ‘across all developmental outcomes, only children were indistinguishable from firstborns and people from small families.’ And clinical psychologist Linda Blair wrote about how ‘parents can focus all their time and energy on an only child,’ which means they get valuable relationship time where ‘they just feel valued’, not just a sense of being overprotected. I think your parents might worry about you because of a different reason.”

You try to contain your smile, “No, they’re definitely just overprotective of me.”

“But then something must’ve happened to have them be overprotective of you. It couldn’t just be because you’re an only child.”

You take a sip of your drink, slowly nodding your head. Be careful. Don’t slip up. “A little bit of both.” You cleared your throat, “You know what show I just started?”

Reid took note of the change of subject, “What?”

“Doctor Who.”

His face split open into the biggest smile, “Really? The series from 1963 or the revamped series from 2005?”

“I just started the Tenth Doctor,” you say, matching his smile, “I think I like David Tennant more.”

Reid looked about ready to burst with the amount of information he knew about the topic. He started stuttering over his words, twiddling his fingers in the air as the words tumbled out of his mouth.

“My favorite is by far the Fourth Doctor played by Tom Baker. He’s the longest running Doctor on the series, having starred in seven seasons between 1974 and 1981. He is the most recognizable Doctor internationally with his famous multicolored scarf. I think his most popular companions are K-9 and…”

“… Sarah Jane!” you say enthusiastically, “Yeah, they were both in the last season with the Tenth Doctor.”

“Yes, yes!” he said happily, “That’s one of the greatest things about Doctor Who – they bring back timeless characters and stories through the years. It’s why you have to watch the originals!”

You laugh at his endearing blabber, “Go back to black and white television?”

“It’s classic,” he retorts, “Sure the BBC didn’t give them much of a budget at first, but the black and white helps hide the poor quality of the sets and costumes. And television back then wasn’t designed to be binged like today, so many of the stories aren’t cohesive, but that’s the beauty of it. It’s history in the making – you can see the progress of a single character and their life over almost fifty years! It’s fascinating.”

You nod slowly, tickled by Reid’s eagerness, “Alright. Maybe I’ll try to watch them.”

“Oh, I can’t wait to talk to you about the Master and the evolution of the Daleks and the effects of the Time War.”

Another laugh escapes you as you continue to stir your drink with the straw, staring at the ice cubes tink against the glass.

It got quiet as Reid stewed in the slight embarrassment that itched his stomach as his excitement wore off. “I’m sorry,” he said, “I rambled.”

“I told you I like it,” you say, finally looking at him in that dimly lit bar, “I like seeing you get all excited about stuff. It makes me want to get excited about it too.”

“Yeah, but you shouldn’t do things just because I like them.”

“Why not?” you say firmly, “What if I want us to share something?”

He was caught off guard by that, blinking hard a few times. “You want us to share something?”

You take another sip of your drink. It was getting watered down now by the melting ice. “I told you I need more friends,” you smile at him, “My parents are worried, remember?”

Reid’s throat bobbed, thoughts of spending long nights cuddled on the couch and watching old shows on a black and white television disappear in an instant. His hopes of taking her on a date to the Blackfriars Playhouse to see her favorite play were being diminished, the tickets of said show burning in his back pocket. The want to brew her a cup of tea and share an evening reading books together, maybe even holding hands across their reading chairs, ached in his chest.

“Friends,” he said quietly, “Right.”

~~~

Not long after the bar trip, you invited Reid over to your apartment for one of your reading sessions.

When you opened the door to find him with nearly ten books piled in his arms, you laughed. “You’re gonna out read me 10 to 1.”

He gave a close lipped smile, fighting back the embarrassment of his quirks. “It’s a blessing and a curse.”

You sat on one end of the couch, thumbing the edge of your fiction book. “I put a kettle on,” you said gesturing to the stove, “If you want to have a cup of tea with me.”

Reid took off his satchel, setting his books on a side table, “I’m more of a coffee guy.”

“Yeah,” you say smiling, “More like a sugar guy with some coffee beans on the side.”

You’re suddenly struck with another memory. Just like how you remember that your first day at the BAU smelled like fall leaves.

You remember that the first time you were able to easily ground yourself from PTSD, it smelled like sugared coffee.

As the kettle started screaming with steam, you went to stand until Reid started waving you down, “No, no – you’re already sitting. I’ll get the tea.”

And as he passed you by, it smelled like sugared coffee again, “But you don’t even want any.”

He didn’t respond, smiling to himself as he filled a waiting teacup with boiling water. A little cannister of teabags sat beside the stove. “Did you know that tea is the second most popular drink in the world? The first being water.”

“So my preferred drink is more popular than yours?” you say teasingly as he came around the couch with the steaming cup.

“That’s because the Asia Pacific is a dominant region for tea, and that accounts for over 4 billion people, which is around 60% of the world’s population. Not to mention that around 68% of people in the United Kingdom drink at least one tea per day, and that’s about 61 million people. That puts the tea industry slightly above the coffee.” He handed you the teacup, his fingertips burning where they brushed up against yours, and not because the drink was hot.

“You could just say tea is better than coffee, it’s okay,” you say, blowing before taking a sip.

Reid held back a smile, sitting on the other side of the couch, “Maybe not better… but more popular.”

You bickered with smiles on your faces for a couple more minutes before cracking open your books. You’re giggling as you toss your bookmark at him, “Just shut up and read your books.”

He laughed at you, trying to get comfortable on his side, crossing his spindly legs.

The pair of you sat in a comfortable silence as the sun dipped lower behind the blinds. Reid had blown throw two psychology textbooks and another true crime book written by a favorite author. You had gotten through maybe seventy pages of your adult fantasy novel.

Reid thought he would’ve gotten through six books by then, but he kept getting distracted by you. The thought of reaching over and holding your hand as you read was overwhelming. He wanted to sit closer, rub shoulders with you, peer over and read the same page as you, wait for you to finish before he turned the page for you.

He wanted to catch your eyes drooping with sleep and then offer to read aloud to you as you drift off against him. He wanted to drape a blanket around you both and help you sip tea so you wouldn’t have to take your arms out from under the warmth. He wanted to hear you read your favorite lines to him. He wanted to see you shift into a more comfortable reading position, grumbling about aching wrists. He wanted to read your book just so he could talk to you about it.

He wanted you.

It was getting painful how much he wanted you.

The bookmark he was using was the two tickets to the Blackfriars Playhouse. They blared at him like a beacon sitting on the side table.

But then something remarkable happened. From your scrunched up position on the opposite side of the couch, you crept your feet across the seat cushions until they reached Reid. You then tucked your cold toes under his thigh.

He abruptly looked at you with raised eyebrows.

You shrugged your shoulders, attempting to look innocent. “My feet are cold.”

He fought a huge smile, “And you don’t have a blanket?”

“Why would I need a blanket when you’re here?” You said it so casually there was no way you noticed how that made Reid’s heart leap.

“Fair enough,” he responded. He cleared his throat, flickering his eyes between you and his own book. “Hey, (Y/N)?”

You look up at him over the top of your book, “Yeah, Spence?”

Spence. He started smiling despite the nerves, “I couldn’t help but notice that the Blackfriars Playhouse is showing Much Ado About Nothing, and um…” he swallowed hard, unable to look at you. “… I just so happen to have two tickets to see it next Saturday.”

Your feet wiggled under his leg, and he squirmed, tickled. “Is that so?”

“Would you want to go with me… maybe?”

You could barely contain the excitement starting to course through your veins, “Are you kidding? Spence! I would love to go.” Your book fell from your fingers, “Oh my god, I’m so excited.”

The pride that swelled Reid’s chest could’ve made him float to the moon.

~~~

You could’ve blamed it on the case. On the method of killing. On the type of victim. But it was the fact that you didn’t have a handle on your emotions.

Girls around your age were being taken and tortured by having nails hammered into them. Sharp, pointed nails – stabbed into them. It was too similar.

You counted your breaths and stared at your desk. Everyone exited the bullpen before you, packing briefcases and emergency bags for the incoming jet flight to Missouri. You staggered on your way out, nearly collapsing into your desk chair.

You considered running to the bathroom like you usually did, dousing yourself in cold water and snapping out of it. Instead you closed your eyes and traced the little scars you could find against your ribcage and abdomen.

The smell of coffee wafted over you.

“Hey,” came a small voice, kneeling beside you. “Is it the nails?”

You try to swallow, but it’s thick and sticks to the back of your throat. You just subtly nod instead, slowly opening your eyes.

Reid is there, leaning against your desk and itching to touch you – to comfort you.

“(Y/N),” he said cautiously, “Is this more than a phobia?”

You attempt a deep breath, but it’s shallow in your chest, “I’ll be fine.”

“Maybe we should…”

“Reid,” you say more sternly, “I’m going to be fine. I’m not going to let this hold me back.” You brush him off, standing and straightening your blazer. “I’m gonna go pack.”

Reid let you pass but kept his gaze on you as you left the offices. It must’ve been too full of the longing and worry he felt for you because Morgan and Prentiss were quick to comment on it.

“Hey there, pretty boy,” Morgan said, setting his duffel bag down, “What’s got your attention?”

Prentiss gave a breathy laugh, zipping up her own bag, “Only the object of all his desires.”

“Give it a rest,” he responded, running his fingers through his hair. “You’re not helping.”

“Helping what?” Morgan folded his arms, “You getting out of the friend zone?”

“If she could see the way you just looked at her,” Prentiss sucked in a breath of air that sounded like a hiss, “Maybe she’d see how in love you are.”

“Those big old puppy-dog eyes,” Morgan smiled, “You’re irresistible.”

Reid grumbled, “Something’s wrong.”

“Yeah, the fact you’re wasting time pining when you could be getting some weekend sugar,” Morgan laughed.

“No,” Reid looked away, “There’s something familiar about (Y/N) and I don’t know what it is. Rossi refuses to say anything because he’s protecting her, but I know they have a past. That has to mean she’s been involved in Rossi’s career somehow, whether that’s from a case, or one of his lectures, or as one of his interns. But the fact he doesn’t speak about it means that it’s personal.”

“Okay,” Morgan said, the smile leaving his face, “What do you want to do?”

The corner of Reid’s lip twitched – it usually happened when he was thinking about something difficult, “I don’t know. I guess I hoped she would tell me eventually.”

“But now you’re impatient?” Prentiss asked, brow scrunched, “You want Garcia to look (Y/N) up?”

“No!” Reid said quickly, “I just… I want to help her, but I can’t do that if I don’t know what’s wrong.”

“I thought she just got a little squeamish around needles,” Morgan said, “She needs a second, but then she’s good.”

Reid shoved his hands in his pockets, “I think it’s a trauma response.”

“Well, don’t phobias come from past incidents or traumas?” Prentiss asked, “Couldn’t she have had a bad experience at the doctors as a child getting her flu shot?”

They clearly weren’t as concerned as he was, and Reid sat at his desk, knuckles covering his mouth as he thought.

Morgan shared a look with Prentiss before saying, “Look kid, we worry about (Y/N) too. We’re here for her if she needs it. But we’re not going to go snooping around in her personal business that she would rather keep private.”

“She’s not going to ask for help,” Reid said to himself.

Prentiss pursed her lips, “Then we’ll be here to catch her when she falls.” She gestured to Morgan and the pair of them took their bags to meet by the SUVs, all the while muttering to themselves.

Reid drummed his knuckles against his lips, staring at his computer screen and debating. He could do a simple google search himself, no need to bother Rossi or Garcia with it. With Rossi being involved in some way, there might be a news article somewhere that mentions you.

Hesitantly, looking around for any prying eyes, Reid logged onto his computer and typed in the search engine. He searched for your name. Your name plus FBI. Your name plus David Rossi.

And a string of articles popped up. Newspapers from Arizona, Nevada, and Utah.

Young girls kidnapped, held, tortured, and murdered in the desert. The murderer being coined ‘The Pincushion Killer’ based on his methods. Each victim was repeatedly stabbed with varying sized needles. Starting with acupuncture needles and growing to icepicks. He purposely stabbed his victims in nonthreatening spots of the body, avoiding large blood vessels and major organs. The purpose to draw out their suffering.

Until the day of the murder. He would then puncture an organ of his choice: lungs, stomach, liver, sometimes an artery.

He was never caught. But all nine of his victims were identified. Eight killed. And the ninth survived.

And pasted on the front of every news article said: Pincushion Killer – Victim #9 Survives; Killer Disappears.

Below was a picture of (Y/N).

The ninth victim.

~~~

Taglist: @caswinchester2000 @aria253264 @bippity-boppity-boopa @kaqua @cameleonfrenzy @shyposttree @thatdummy-girl @chiefqueef22 @nicole-survivor @murder-swan @nomajdetective @mxacegrey @cynbx @popeheywardssecretgf @futuremrsspencerreid @dilflover10 @mrskatpotter @holly-the-trash-writer @noakroontje

#criminal minds x reader #criminal minds #dr spencer reid #spencer reid love #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds spencer #okayjhannah #fandomfantasia

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oysternymph · 2 days ago

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Riddle x reader

‘Sickly studies’

Notes: Yuu is gender neutral and as such they/them pronouns are used, not beta read, fluff, slight angst, slightly ooc. Riddle has a fever in this fic, descriptions of sickness are limited and are not in detail but I still wanted to give a heads up for anyone that is sensitive to that particular subject. I wanted something a bit more platonic for Riddle, hence the romance isn’t as strong as in the Jade x reader fic, but I hope Riddle fans enjoy this nonetheless! Riddle was one of my reasons for looking more into TWST when I first heard about it, so it’s safe to say he means a lot to me. I hope you all enjoy!

Twst x reader masterpost

Wc: 1,584

Finals were coming up as was the end of Yuu’s first official year at Night Raven College. So much had happened in just that short span of time that it felt overwhelming to remember it all sometimes. What mattered was the present, the horrible overblots of the past were but a distant memory, not to mention no one had even overblotted since winter break! This had to be a new record!

What mattered most was receiving good grades on their finals, as the headmage promised to upgrade their phone plan from ninety minutes per month to unlimited if they received all A’s on their finals or in turn, made it within at least two of the top 50 test scores for finals. Which seemed highly unlikely considering mages such as Riddle and Azul attended the school. Plus NRC students were known to cheat on occasion, even if Yuu studied with all their might, they might get bumped down a few places because of a cheater.

As a result, Yuu had requested studying sessions with the top student in all of Night Raven College, Riddle Rosehearts. Despite being the smartest student, Riddle was rather helpful and never turned down a student who honestly wanted to improve their grades. Not only did he often tutor Deuce and Kalim, but he’d even study with students aiming to try and take over his rank as top student such as Azul. As such, when Yuu asked if Riddle would be willing to help, he agreed without hesitation.

Today was their third study session with the top student, they’d be focusing on the history of magic today and alchemy. While Yuu didn’t have any magic of their own, they were expected to remember alchemical formulas and ingredients regardless of their lack of ability to do anything with them. Seeing as Riddle had been such a big help already, Yuu decided to make him a dessert as a thank you for all the help. After attempting to read through the Heartslabyul rule book and only making it to rule two hundred and twenty eight ‘flowers in gardens must never be picked on Wednesdays’, you figured that you’d just avoid making a tart as to avoid the same mistake Ace made all those months ago.

Knowing Riddle affinity for anything strawberry, you decided on vanilla strawberry cupcakes, which while difficult to decorate, weren’t that hard to actually bake. With their cupcakes in tow and their book bag in another, Yuu set off to Heartslabyul and soon enough entered the labyrinth-like dorm. After what seemed like longer than usual, Yuu entered the lounge, not many students were taking up space there. Either due to them being busy studying in their rooms or at the library. The kitchen door opened a moment later as a familiar ginger man walked out, holding a cup of steaming tea.

“O.M.G! It’s been awhile since I’ve seen you around here! What brings you here? Your freshies are on flamingo duty today soooo…”

“I came to study with Riddle.”

At this statement, Cater makes a face, almost as if what the Ramshackle student said was most peculiar. Yuu half expected Cater to suddenly blurt out something along the lines of, ‘rule 637 states that students can’t study on Saturdays from 1 to three pm!’ But instead he merely sighs.

“Did he not tell you?”

“Tell me what? Is he busy?”

Cater shakes his head, a sigh escaping his thin lips a moment later.

“Riddle is like, sick. Like, really sick. He got a cold so he’s resting for the day. He really didn’t cancel on you?”

“No, I wouldn’t have come if I knew he was resting…”

Shortly before leaving to the hall of mirrors, Yuu had sent Riddle a quick text to make sure things were still on for today, in which Riddle liked the message before stating that he was still available to tutor Yuu. And yet according to Cater, he was rather sick.

“Well like since you’re already here…”

Cater motions for Yuu to hold out their hand, only for him to place the saucer and teacup into the prefects hand a moment later.

“You can cancel your study session and give him some tea! Well I’ll be seeing you!”

Soon enough the bouncy Heartslabyul student disappeared from their sight, leaving Yuu alone. With no other option they immediately headed to Riddle’s room, making their way to the door before making a soft knock on it. After a few seconds of silence, Yuu could hear a soft groan on the other side.

“…Come in…”

A weak voice called out, hoarse from coughing no doubt. As Yuu opened the door to Riddle’s room, she found him at his desk, a thick blanket draped over his shoulders, a small trash bag filled with used tissues, and a box of them on his desk. Despite his apparent cold he still had a textbook open on the desk, sniffling as he mumbled to himself.

“The best way to harvest mandrakes…ACHOO!”

He quickly grabbed a tissue and sneezed into that, blowing his nose a moment later and dropped the now used tissue into his bag full of them as Yuu walked over to his desk, placing the tea next to him. Slowly he turned to look up, staring at Yuu with a tired expression before his sleepy eyes widened, his nose red from his cold and all the blowing.

“Yuu! I’m sorry, I haven’t looked at the time in awhile I forgot…don’t worry, we can get to studying right away-”

He sucked in a heavy breath before turning away from the prefect, coughing hard into his elbow before turning back to them.

“I have masks if you’d feel more comfortable studying with a layer of protection or we may do a call…”

“Riddle, you need to rest. You look horrible…”

Instinctively, Yuu’s hand went towards the dorm leaders forehead, pressing against the soft skin and frowning at the red head.

“Riddle you’re burning up bad. You must have a fever. You really need to rest.”

He grunted softly, looking away with one of his hands clenched into a fist as his body shook lightly.

“I’m. Fine. Whatever I’m dealing with can be handled once finals are over.”

“Riddle…”

Moving their hand from his forehead, Yuu pulled the dorm leader into a sudden hug. Instantly he tensed up under their touch, though before Yuu could pull away, he slowly moved one hand to hold them back.

“…You’re going to catch whatever I have.”

“I don’t mind…Riddle. I know finals are important…”

“They’re the most important thing in my life as of this moment.”

“Your own health should come before any test.”

“I can’t fall behind, I can’t…”

Yuu tenderly pet the back of his hair as the dorm leader sniffled again, this time clearly in an attempt to hold back his tears as opposed to trying to provide relief to his nose.

“You won’t fall behind…You’ve been an excellent student since your start here. I’m sure the professors could make accommodations if you’re still sick. But you won’t be able to perform well if you’re sicker than a dog.”

“…Trey said the same thing…But I…If I don’t do well then what example does that set for my students? I’d be a failure!”

His voice kept getting quieter and quieter the longer he spoke, Yuu attempted to pull away briefly from the dorm leader in order to grab the tea so he could soothe his clearly raw throat, but seeing as Riddle clung tighter to them as they tried to pull away, it seemed it would be for the best if they stayed close to Riddle for now.

“…Riddle, you wouldn’t be a failure. You’re still human at the end of the day, you need to rest sometimes…I know it must be upsetting to get so sick right before finals, but you didn’t plan this. It just…happened. Life is cruel sometimes, but we still have a month to prepare. If you rest now then you should have more than enough time to study.”

“…What if I don’t?”

Riddle looked up from his friend's shoulder, tears beading at the corner of his eyes, clearly distraught just by the idea of missing valuable study time.

“…You will. I promise. And…until you're better, I’ll study for you, catch you up on any material you need help with. For now, you just need to focus on resting.”

“…Do you really think I’ll be better in time?”

“I’m sure of it.”

Slowly Yuu helps the dorm leader to stand, guiding him over to his large bed and helping him to settle down in it. They walk back to the desk and return with the tea.

Riddle takes a sip, humming at the warmth before he allows for the prefect to help him drink the rest of the cup.

“…Yuu?”

“Yes?”

“…Will you stay with me until I fall asleep?”

“Yeah, I can do that.”

Gently taking one of his hands into their own, Yuu stayed by Riddle’s bedside as he slowly drifted off, his expression slowly becoming more peaceful until it was completely gentle. They weren’t sure if he would be better in time, but bottom line he needed to rest. For now, Yuu would do the hard part for him while he recovered. In his sleep he’d occasionally squeeze their hand, the softest smile on his face as he allowed himself to rest. Just by that expression alone, Yuu had a feeling he’d be okay.

#lynnycore #twst #twst x yuu #twst x you #twst x reader #riddle rosehearts #twst riddle #riddle x reader #fluff #slight angst #fanfic #twst fanfic #twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #slight whump #whump #oysternymph

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zonnbae · 3 days ago

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🕯️𝕓𝕦𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕞𝕚𝕕𝕟𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥 𝕠𝕚𝕝 𝕚𝕟 𝕓𝕒𝕜𝕦𝕘𝕠❜𝕤 𝕕𝕠𝕣𝕞

𝕓𝕒𝕜𝕦𝕘𝕠 𝕩 𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕣

To the fans who crave the danger and intensity of Bakugo's explosive love.

Listen as you read:

Introductions:

Track 1: Out of My League

Track 2: Routines in the Night

Track 3: Glad You Came

Katsuki Bakugo is so mean. Class 1-A and Class 1-B were full of exceptional students that could have been wonderful subjects, like Todoroki Shoto and Yaoyorozu Momo who were implemented into the Hero Course under special circumstances. By happenstance, you had volunteered yourself to be subjected to his attitude with more enthusiasm than you cared to remember. You were a proud member of the first-year Support Course, Class 1-F. A week into the course, Power Loader had presented an anonymous list of quirks for your class to select from. The deliberation process was longer than all of the introductory lessons that you all had taken thus far. This was prior to the U.A. Sports Festival, so the details of who possessed what quirk was not as widely available. The students that were more in-the-know used their knowledge to acquire the most ideal matches. You were still trying to go through the motions of warming up to your classmates, which meant that any external students were just out of the question.

An explosive quirk sounded so exhilarating on paper. You remembered being so excited. Your curiosity had gotten the better of you as you wondered how big, loud, and destructive a quirk like that might have been. There were so many angles that you could take in creating support gear for something like this that you were sure that you’d pass the semester with flying colors. You had quickly turned in your top three choices; explosion, creation, and electrification.

You recalled waiting in anticipation on the edge of your seat as the class’ submissions were processed. You were anxious to receive your top choice. Everyone must have selected the same thing. At least, you had thought so until two of your classmates had taken their seats behind you. “Man, I’m so excited! What do you think they’re going to do to break ties?” Classmate A said while rummaging through their bag, retrieving a snack in the meantime.

“The hell if I know,” Replied Classmate B as they slumped in their seats with their cheeks in their palms. “I didn’t even bother choosing the obvious ones.” This was great news! That meant you had a greater chance!

“Oh, yeah, same. It’s too much pressure. I’m sure everyone’s waiting to see what kind of gear’s being produced for Endeavor’s son.” You had thought similarly for Momo, but that hadn’t stopped you from tossing your hat into the ring.

“I know one thing for sure, I’d rather flunk out than be stuck with that explosion quirk.” Come again?

“OOOH, you’ve seen him, too?!” Classmate A sat up in their seat at the recollection.

“That asshole in Class 1-A?” Classmate B retorted immediately, scoffing at the memory. “The bastard pushed me in the hallway and called me a random extra!” He did what now?

Classmate A proceeded to beat their hand on their desk in solidarity, struggling to find the words to say. “Same, same! He did the same thing to me!” They managed to blurt out. “It’s like, bro, you’re not a hero yet! Calm down!”

“Yeah, and aren’t heroes supposed to be heroic?” You proceeded to sink lower into your seat as the two of them continued to exchange insults towards the person that you put at the top of your list. While he may have had a bad attitude, his quirk was still spectacular. Hopefully, there were others like you who selected him, then there’d be a chance that you received Momo or whomever had electrocution.

But, there were zero others.

Apparently, he was not so anonymous. Bakugo had made several condescending announcements regarding his greatness while publicly demonstrating his quirk. As fate would have it, you witnessed one immediately after you submitted your top choices. He was boisterous, arrogant, and he managed to piss off the entire first class in ten words or less.

All you could do was hope that this assignment would only last a semester. . . And as he engaged in a heated argument with your classmates that were just roasting him, you had hoped that it would last only a quarter. Until then, you supposed you could identify as a random extra.

❖──────❖──────❖

Your heart sank when Power Loader handed you Katsuki Bakugo’s folder as if he were dumping several tons of weight from his shoulders. There was no real room to complain. You were the one that failed to do research prior to signing up for a commitment, so you accepted the lesson. You have yet to meet the quirk wielder, but you were still very much excited to design for the quirk.

The next week of class was dedicated to prototyping gear for your assigned heroes. It turns out that the anonymous list contained selections from Class 1-A and 1-B, which led to a pretty diverse range of equipment. The heroes in training were currently learning about all of the extraordinary teams that stood behind every pro-hero, so the teachers found it fitting to have you all collaborate in this way. There were some details in Bakugo’s folder that you hadn’t anticipated, but were eager to innovate for. Sometimes, everyone in the class had been so focused that all you could hear was soothing sounds of the laboratory. People had been more willing to collaborate now that they had their assignments. The competition matters slightly less as people prioritized the quality of their work. The heroes in training were scheduled to utilize your items the same day you presented them. The worst case scenario for you had been Bakugo losing a limb to his own explosion.

Yikes. The pressure was on.

Students in Classes F, G, and H had unlimited access to the Support Course Development Studio. It was an unspoken expectation that plenty of hours were placed into these assignments, especially when lives were at stake. To no surprise, you and many of your classmates bonded over afternoon naps and midnight coffee in the studio. With expectations this high, it was no surprise that housing was offered in Heights Alliance. All week long you had dragged yourself to your room only for a shower and quick nap before you were ready to take on the day again.

But the late nights were worth it. You felt as if the gauntlets were perfect, considering the details from Bakugo’s folder and your expertise. It was a prototype, but a perfect one. You rewarded yourself with a goodnight’s sleep prior to the debut of your products.

“Wow, those gauntlet’s are sick!” Exclaimed Classmate A, whom you’ve come to know as Zara Kisaragi.

“Yeah, they’re too cool for him,” Complimented Classmate B, Kairos Tenjin, who had quite a few hallway altercations with Bakugo since the first day. “You think he’s going to like it?”

“Thanks,” You expressed your gratitude as your heart swelled with pride. “I hope so! I mean, heroes are the ones that have to fight with our products so I expect to make a few tweaks here and there.”

“Just like he could use a few tweaks in the head, “ Tenjin grumbled under their breath, earning laughter from the two of you. “Shh, shh, be quiet. Here they come!” Kisaragi warned as Eraser Head and Vlad King made their way into the studio.

The Pro Heros shared some long, rehearsed speech about the importance of collaboration and the significance of networking with heroes. You and your classmates were only half-listening. Everyone was too busy vibrating in their seats with an eagerness to share their (semi) finished products. After what felt like an eternity, Class 1-A and 1-B were allowed into the studio and a few introductions were facilitated by the teachers. Of course, there were only three teachers so many of the students linked up before they could share a few points. The volume in the studio increased significantly as everyone engaged in enriching discussions. And you did not have to wait long for yours to begin. . “Get out of my way!” The sound of his voice caused your heart to jump in your chest and your back to stiffen. He had pushed past his and your classmates effortlessly, much to their dismay. Given that his requests were a part of his folder, he had known exactly what he was looking for. Expecting him did not make him any less intimidating when he arrived.

“Good Morning, Bakugo! It’s a pleasure to–” You were unable to get through your greetings, let alone introduce yourself, when he had intruded upon your station. He claimed his gauntlets, forcing his hand inside each one of them before flexing his fingers. Your mouth remained open for a moment or two, shutting when you remembered he must have perceived you.

You were a random extra, after all.

“Don’t just stand there. Show me how to turn this thing on.” You jumped from his assertive tone, extending your hands in an attempt to reclaim one. You had intended to walk him through all of the components visually before he placed them on, so you found it difficult to backtrack. “Right, let me just. . You have to remove them,” You tried to explain while moving your hand more towards his elbow, attempting to pull them off until you remembered that the prototype was not necessarily designed to be removed by anyone but the user. It was tricky. You figured that would stop a villain from yanking them off. You made a mental note to yourself. “I already have them on so, just tell me what to do,” He commanded while yanking his arm from your support. Unfortunately, your hands had been in a compromising place as you tried to activate the fail-safe. This led to your hand being scratched, no sliced, by something that you hadn’t realized was protruding. You winced at the pain and jerked your hand back, swearing as it bled. Discovering things like this was a very important part of the fitting process, but with Bakugo it was just. .

“Is that blood? Are you bleeding?” Bakugo scowled in disbelief. “What, so I guess every time I go to save civilians I’ll just end up slicing them in half,” He insulted. “These gauntlets are a hunk of junk, I might as well be using my bare hands!”

“Hey, asshole, you can’t go saying rude things like that!” Chimed in Tenjin, whose station was in proximity to yours. They were insulted on your behalf.

“Who are you calling an asshole, you stupid background character?! It’s not my fault these were thrown together in five minutes!” Bakugo retorted shamelessly.

“Alright, that’s enough,” The commotion had caught the teacher’s attention, Eraserhead assured to erase the quirks of both Tenjin and Bakugo as they approached. Attention was immediately drawn to your wound. “What the hell happened here?” You had been so overwhelmed by how quickly things had escalated that you hadn’t even realized the wound had been dripping onto the floor. And now you had the audience of three pro heroes, a dissatisfied client, and three classes to your blunder. You were lost for words. Feelings were welling up and the last thing you needed was for all of them to witness you being emotional. You escaped before you could speak, slapping a bloody hand onto Bakugo’s shoulder to push him out of the way to make a path for yourself. Tenjin called out to you. The teachers made sounds of concern, seemingly also having to take a moment for themselves in awe of how things went south so quickly.

Nothing they could have said would have stopped you at that moment. The only place for you now was your dorm.

❖──────❖──────❖

The Class 1-F group chat was very active for the rest of the day. Your classmates were discussing how happy they were with their pairings, how happy their clients were with their equipment. Many of them had already started discussing how they would implement the notes they gathered from their meeting today. It turns out that the heroes were not going to test out the equipment today, it was just a simulated pressure that was placed upon you all for the sake of the lesson. There was time for further improvements, discussions with clients, and more before they would put them to the test.

Oh, and there was that great portion of the morning where everyone was talking about you non-stop. Everyone from your class, and a few individuals from the other classes, had taken pity on you. On the bright side, Momo had messaged you directly concerned about your well-being. You had wanted to be friends with her, so this was an unexpected victory.

Tenjin had been blowing up your phone non-stop. He was concerned about you in between the colorful vocabulary he created to insult Bakugo. It was through his messages that you received most of your insights. EraserHead had apparently torn Bakugo a new one. Even though he was adamant that you were an amateur, EraserHead had threatened to have him sit out of the training that followed this collaboration if he couldn’t learn to play nicely. Tenjin had urged you to request an alternative assignment. You simply assured him that you were fine and that you would see him bright and early tomorrow.

In spite of your disappearance, You had returned to the studio during your classes’ lunch hour to see the state of your station with a clear head. Bakugo had left his gauntlets haphazardly on your desk, seeming to have damaged them in the process of disarming them. A sea of questions had swelled in your mind, but you remained calm. The audience had thrown you off this morning. It was difficult to find the right way to articulate yourself in a crowd, especially when everyone had varied needs to be addressed. You grounded yourself in knowing that you had some semblance of privacy, even though Power Loader had taken notice of you. He tried his best to check in with you and try to squeeze in a sympathetic lesson about the importance of resilience in this kind of industry, but you were hardly present for that moment. You had to plan your next move.

You had made a promise to yourself when you were accepted to this program to always strive to be better than you were yesterday. This industry was perfect for you because you had always been the type to keep to yourself. But now, thanks to Bakugo, your reputation has gone from being nobody to being ‘that amateur from class 1-F who made the shitty gloves’. You took a deep breath and gathered your materials. There was no way you were going to let some asshole write your story. You were going to fix this and, unlike him, you had no need for an audience to be great.

❖──────❖──────❖

It was nearing midnight when you arrived on the 4th floor of Heights Alliance. Many of the other students were already tucked away in their rooms aside from a few stragglers who were still comparing notes in the common areas. Class 1-A had been quite popular, having developed relationships beyond just their cohort. You’re resourceful when you need to be. You may have decided not to engage with Bakugo prior to this morning's incident, but you did your fair share of research following your initial mistake of selecting his quirk. He may not have noticed you, but you did him. For that reason you had a decent idea of where his room was located.

At this moment you have your wits about Bakugo, and the gauntlets that you made a few adjustments (and repairs) to this evening. Hopefully, the two of you could have a better dialogue now. So, you knocked on his door at a quarter to midnight. The sound echoed throughout the vacant hall alongside the muffled sounds of various video games and music coming from the other dorms. There was no initial response. Your nails were curling to your palms, anxious at the idea of what his volume might do to this otherwise tranquil location. You made a mental note not to be intimidated by his thunderous presence as you lifted your hand to knock again, this time louder. “Huh?. .” You heard movement from inside. With the amount of doors in the area, he must not have known that the initial knock was meant for him. Your third, more assertive knock to his door must have been the confirmation he needed. “What the hell?. .” You heard, followed by the sound of him approaching the door in a huff. “Do you have any idea what–” You could already hear how irritated he was, his volume tripling at the swing of the door. “--time it is?”

One thing was certain, he hadn’t expected to see you. “Yeah,” you started, squaring your shoulders and arching up to appear confident as you presented the gauntlets. “About ten til midnight, but this couldn’t wait.” “You again?” He scoffed, especially after seeing what you were trying to present. “Get the hell out of my face.” He stated firmly as he already began closing the door. You pushed forward, wedging your shoulder and arm between the door and its frame. You weren’t exactly wearing thick shoes at the moment so this would have been less painful than trying to use your foot, even if it earned you a wince.

“Wait–!” You interjected. “We’re going to be working on these in class tomorrow and I didn’t get a chance to explain them,” You tried to reason. He seemed frustrated that you were persisting. “You should have thought about that before you left with your tail between your legs this morning. Now move out of the way!” His volume was echoing throughout the hallway. It was only a matter of time before the night owls began to peak their head out. The thought of another audience was about to send you into a tailspin. “Look, I don’t want any trouble–” You kept a consistent volume of your own, but the franticness was present. “But we’re on this project together, so we have to make this work!”

“And you didn’t think to talk about this when the sun was up? You had your chance, now move it.” He said while widening the door, threatening to make another attempt to slam it close. You thought that he wouldn’t dare, but you caught sight of the muscles tightening in his right arm and panicked. You jumped out of the way and into his room just in time to avoid being split in two. You felt the color leaving your face at how close that had been. This guy was supposed to be a hero? “What the hell are you doing?! Get out!” He barked immediately, his now free hand crackling with sparks as his menacing aura increased.

He approached you as if he were going to physically remove you. Your hands were shaking. You couldn’t even blame him. It felt like you couldn’t get a word in and the ones you did share he wasn’t hearing. You panicked. Your gut reaction was to shove the glove onto his sparkling hand, as if it would stop him from folding you in half. “Just one test-run, please! Then you’ll never have to look at me again!” You piped up as quickly as you could, taking a few steps back. People may no longer be able to see the altercation between you two, but hopefully they’d hear your cries of pain.

“What the–?” He growled when his hand was, once again, confined in your contraption. “I already busted out of this damn thing!” He exclaimed while using his free hand to grip the entrance of your project, threatening to destroy it again. At this point, you were functioning on pure adrenaline. You grasped onto the forearm of your project to stop him from damaging it; retorting. “And I already fixed it!” You assured him, practically clinging to your creation in desperation of protecting it. “I’m really not trying to argue, I swear!” You pleaded. “Please, I just want to pass this assignment! That would mean that I did something, or made something amazing for the both of us!”

“What kind of sorry excuse is that for busting into my room?!” It was as he challenged your logic that you realized that most of your weight had transitioned to your chest. He had lifted you by the glove you clung to, raising you a few inches in the air before successfully shaking you off with one quick jerk. You fell on your ass to the floor, stunned by his strength. You supposed that’s why he was the hero.

You looked up at him from your position on the floor, defeated. Maybe Tenjin was right about requesting an alternative assignment. “I just. . .” You attempted to articulate your point with vague hand gestures, but in the end you wondered if they even lined up with what you were trying to communicate. “. . wanted to make some adjustments so that the assignment would be done in time for you to train with it,” you shared. “I heard that EraserHead wasn’t going to let you train unless we got along. We don’t have to get along, you don’t have to like me. But I don’t want to be the a roadblock on your journey to becoming the #1 Hero.” You admitted your motivations earnestly, not that he would care. At this point, you couldn’t even bring yourself to look him in the eyes. “I’m the best possible person to make your gear because I’m the only person who really, really wants to.” “What are you talking about?” He inquired towards your last statement, which made you contemplate the merit of explaining how you got into this situation. Well, it was the first time he seemed to be listening and it’s not like it was your private information. So, you told him everything. About how the selection process went in Class 1-F, how you made your decision based off of perceived merit unbeknownst to your classmates’ insights. All of the first year classes were still getting to know one another and the details of what their separate curriculums were. In other words, those who were born to be heroes were still learning the true extent of the villages that stood behind them.

You were surprised by the silence that followed. This wasn’t quite how you expected this meeting to go; you sitting at his feet while he towered over you with your gear locked on his hand. You had yet to look up to him. There were so many harsh things he could say about how poorly you handled your first assignments. You can only imagine what was going through his head. "Tch, you gonna sit there like an idiot, or are you gonna step up and show me how these damn things work?" Come again?

❖──────❖──────❖

Note from Zonnbae:

I'm not sure how long this one can go on, but for sure there'll at least be the full extent of the playlist I created. I'll be writing a few more fanfictions and creating more playlists for different characters from JJK, MHA, and a few other animes.

71 notes · View notes

brookediamonds · 17 hours ago

Note

Can I request a Larusso reader x Axel where reader has been competing all her life and is a three time female champion of the sakai takai and already dating Axel but when it comes time to get ready for the sakai takai Daniel automatically gives the captain spot to Sam. So reader decides to join the Iron Dragons and becomes the female captain but Silver has sinister plans for her since he knows who her dad is and uses training methods like Wolf does for Axel and tries to break her mentally. When that doesn't work during the brawl he sees a chance to get revenge and makes sure the other dragons aren't near her and the cobras(minus Tory) decide to use the chance to try to get their revenge on her(since she managed to beat most of them in the team fights) and Axel notices and he sees her get attacked and him and Tory(who if possible was reader's best friend) jump in and even the odd

growing pains | Axel Kovačević x Fem! Reader

Summary: As a 3x Sekai Taikai girls' champion, you embark on new friendships, relationships, and even sponsorships. Being a legacy kid to Daniel LaRusso came with a territory and when it's time for one of the most important tournaments, your dad has decided to strip you of your title leaving to make a life-changing decision your friends and family never saw coming.

Word Count: 4k Warnings: none, angst, fluff, violence (fighting)

gif is not mine

You stare at your reflection in the mirror, hands tightening around the fabric of your black belt as you secure it around your waist.

The green gi of the Iron Dragons feels foreign on your skin, a reminder that everything is different now.

That the life you spent building, the titles you fought for, the legacy you were meant to claim, it’s all slipping through your fingers.

You still remember the way you felt when your dad informed you you'd be sitting this tournament out as the girls' captain.

"You're not even gonna let me fight for it?" You questioned your dad as Miguel and Robby prepared to fight for the male captain spot.

"Y/n, you've been the captain the last three times, and won every tournament," your dad attempts to justify. "It's always just been you and now we need to give the other girls here a chance."

You exhale sharply, shaking the thoughts away. Later that day when you were on FaceTime with your boyfriend, Axel, his sensei overheard the conversation and offered you the spot you had lost.

You were reluctant at first, but the more you and Axel talked into the night, the more you had become convinced.

It was perfect, you pretended you would still fight with Miyagi-Do and by the time you arrived in Barcelona, Axel introduced you to sensei Wolf.

Sensei Wolf easily remembered you, you being the 3x girls' champion of the Sekai Taikai. It was almost a little too perfect.

As you go to pull your hair back, you feel a presence behind you, the familiar warmth of someone stepping into your space without hesitation.

"You’re missing something," Axel’s deep voice rumbles low against your ear.

Before you can respond, his hands reach up, sliding a soft piece of fabric over your forehead. Your breath stills as he gently ties the captain's headband into place, one that matches his.

The knot is secure, firm, as if he’s anchoring you in place, reminding you who you are.

"That's better," he states leaning down to press a soft kiss to the top of your head.

"They'll never understand," you spoke quietly, eyes lingering on your new uniform. "Did you see my dad's face when he saw me?"

You'd never forget the look of betrayal on his face, the look of disappointment on your sister's face. It was almost enough to make you rethink everything.

"You are just doing what's best for you," Axel reminds you, softly laying his hands on your shoulders. "You want to be a Legacy, right?"

You nod, your eyes connecting with his through the mirror in front of you. "I do. More than anything."

Sam could have the LaRusso-Miyagi legacy. You wanted your own.

---------------------------------------------------------

The first few days of the tournament are chaotic to say the least, you surely hadn't anticipated fighting your sister and best friend all in one round.

Luckily you were used to the categories of the individual fights, the bo-staff competition, and the platform challenges.

Having your boyfriend of three years as your partner definitely helped, together you two strived through everything.

Not to mention it had been a few months since you last saw him during summer break, and having a hotel room not too far from each other's had its perks.

Axel’s hands are firm yet gentle as they hold you close, his lips moving against yours with a slow, unhurried intensity.

It’s been too long since you last saw him in person, and you can feel it in the way he's kissing you, like he’s trying to make up for lost time.

You shift slightly in his lap, one of his hands slipping under the hem of your shirt, fingers tracing lazy patterns along your spine.

Just as you start to deepen the kiss, your phone buzzes on the nightstand beside you. You try to ignore it, but it keeps vibrating, the sound persistent.

Axel groans against your lips when you pull away, his hands tightening on your waist.

"Seriously?" he mutters, pressing his forehead against yours.

"It could be important," you murmur, reaching for your phone.

"It’s not," he grumbles, already leaning in to steal another kiss.

You giggle, barely managing to check the screen as he tugs you back toward him. Squinting at the message, you read:

Tory 🥊🖤: You and lover boy wanna grab drinks? Bar near the hotel. Come on, don’t be boring.

Axel takes the opportunity to press his lips to your jaw, then lower, trailing down the side of your neck. You shiver, biting your lip as you try to type out a response.

"Axel," you half-scold, trying not to laugh as he ignores your attempt at seriousness.

He exhales against your skin, clearly annoyed.

"What could possibly be more important than this?" His voice is low, almost teasing, as his fingers squeeze at your waist.

You turn the screen toward him. "Tory wants to meet up at a bar near the hotel."

Axel barely glances at the message before shaking his head.

"Tell her no."

You roll your eyes, already typing. "We should go. It'll be fun."

He huffs, leaning back against the pillows. "I have a better idea. We stay right here, and you put that phone away."

"Tempting, but I already told her we’re coming," you smirk, placing the phone back not the nightstand.

Axel groans dramatically, dropping his head back. "You’re killing me, Y/n."

"You’ll survive," you respond pressing a quick kiss to his cheek, grinning.

He gives you a long, suffering look before exhaling sharply, running a hand through his hair.

"Fine. But I’m not moving unless I get one more kiss," he counters.

Laughing, you lean in, pressing your lips to his once more. He pulls you in tighter, dragging it out longer than necessary, because if he’s getting up, he’s making the most of this first.

And honestly, you don’t mind one bit.

---------------------------------------------------------

After managing to pull the brooding boy out of bed, you two throw on some fresh clothes and meet your friend at the place she sent you.

You lean into Axel’s side in the booth, sipping your drink as Tory eyes the two of you with a smirk.

"You kicked my ass out there," she says bluntly, her thumb tapping against the rim of her glass.

"I'm sorry," you wince remembering the way you took her down to the mat on the very first challenge. You hold your hand out in front of you. "Friends?"

She let out a laugh smacking your outstretched hand way knowing this wasn't personal.

The three of you talk about how intense the competition is this year compared to the last three you've been to, and how nice Barcelona has been.

When it's time for round 2, Axel offers to grab the drinks, leaving you and Tory to talk amongst yourselves.

"How's it going with them?" She asks curious as to what your new team was like.

"It's going pretty good so far," you shrug. "Their sensei is a little intense, but I can handle him."

Tory glances at a table across from you where your sister and her boyfriend sat.

"Have you talked to... Sam and them?" She asks hesitantly.

You sighed leaning back in the booth, swirling the straw around in your melted cocktail. "Yes and no. They want to understand but can't grasp the fact that I would go so far as to join another team."

"My dad knew that winning this year could mean a spot for me on the Sekai Taikai board as a Legacy," you huffed. "This wasn't just a hobby to me, this is my life."

Tory stares at you with remorse, knowing the tears, sweat, and blood you poured in to karate.

"You're gonna be a Legacy," she assures you, reaching her hand out on the table. "We're going to get you a spot on the board."

You give her small smile at her words of encouragement.

"And we're gonna get you those sponsorships," you promise her laying your hand over hers.

Just then, Axel returns, setting down a fresh round of drinks with an effortless ease.

"Alright, what did I miss?" he asks, sliding in beside you again, his arm naturally draping over the back of the booth.

You and Tory share a look of knowing, both silently agreeing together you'd push yourselves through this tournament to get what you both needed.

----------------------------------------------------------

The next morning, you and the rest of your team are called to the studio to practice before the competition begins.

"Y/n," sensei Wolf calls out to you.

"Yes, sensei," you straighten up as he walks over to you and Axel.

"Follow me, there's someone I want you to work with while you are here," he says coolly, turning on his heel.

You look over at Axel who just shrugs at you, not knowing why you're being called to another room.

Following Wolf, you trail behind him as he leads you to a separate studio lined up with mirrors.

As you scanned the room, your eyes land on a familiar, looming presence standing with his back to you.

You recognized the silver hair slicked back into a ponytail, dressed in his usual black attire.

Terry Silver.

Your stomach tightens as he turns to face you, a slow, knowing smirk tugging at his lips.

"Y/n LaRusso," he greets, his voice smooth, calculated. "It’s about time we officially met."

You can hear your dad's voice in your head. Run. Get out of there.

"I can't say the same," you snap back. After everything he's done to your family, your friends, you wanted nothing more than kick him in the face.

His smirk deepens. "I have to say, I was surprised when I heard you joined the Iron Dragons. Then again, it seems you’ve finally realized what your father never could. True power isn’t about balance. It’s about dominance."

You clench your jaw but say nothing. He takes your silence as an invitation, stepping closer.

"You want that Legacy seat, don’t you?" he muses, circling you now like a predator sizing up its prey. "You’ve worked for it your entire life. But tell me… are you really ready to do what it takes?"

You bristle at the implication. "I’ve won three world championships. I know what it takes."

Silver chuckles, shaking his head. "No, you know what it takes to win the right way. But the right way isn’t always the winning way."

You furrowed your eyebrows at his words but before you can respond, he grabs a nearby bo staff from the rack and twirls it effortlessly between his fingers.

"Let’s see what you’ve got," he says, tossing it toward you.

Instinctively, you catch it, gripping it tightly. You watch cautiously as Silver steps onto the mat in front of you, his own staff in hand.

"Show me your best," he instructs.

You don’t hesitate, you lunge forward, aiming a quick, precise strike toward his midsection.

But Silver deflects it easily, countering with a swift, powerful strike to your ribs. You barely block it in time, your arms vibrating from the impact.

"Too slow," he taunts. "Again."

You grit your teeth, adjusting your stance, and swing at him with more force. But the moment you do, he sidesteps—crack!

The staff slams against your thigh, hard enough to send a jolt of pain radiating up your leg. You stagger, inhaling sharply.

"You hesitate," Silver says, his tone unreadable. "That’s the problem with Miyagi-Do. Too much defense, not enough action. In this tournament, hesitation gets you beaten. Gets you forgotten."

You tighten your grip, forcing yourself to push through the sting.

"I don’t hesitate," you say, trying to sound firm, but even you can hear the slight wavering in your voice.

Silver smirks knowingly. "Then prove it."

He attacks again, and this time, you block. Barely. But before you can counter, he sweeps your legs out from under you with a swift, merciless strike, sending you crashing to the mat.

Pain explodes through your back, but before you can recover, Silver crouches beside you, his voice low.

"You’re skilled, Y/n. But skill won’t get you that seat at the table." His eyes gleam with something almost sinister. "The Sekai Taikai rewards strength. Ruthlessness. You want to be remembered? You want that power? Then fight like it."

His words sink in, cutting deeper than the bruises forming on your skin.

You’ve spent your life proving yourself, showing the world that you’re more than just Daniel LaRusso’s daughter.

But now, for the first time… you wonder if your way is enough.

As Silver rises and steps back, you stay on the mat for a moment longer, gripping the bo staff so tightly your knuckles turn white.

And for the first time… you hesitate.

------------------------------------------------------

It's the day of the finals, a team has been eliminated due to their students using steroids, and both Miyagi-Do and Cobra Kai have managed to stay in the competition.

"What's wrong?" Axel asks pulling you to the side. "You've been spaced out since yesterday. What's going on?"

You exhaled out a shaky breath as you see Kwon and the Furia De Pantera captain fight on the mat.

"I'm worried," you voiced. "I'm worried that if I don't win this, everything I've put my family, and friends through, will all be for nothing."

You were especially worried about having Silver on your side. Of course your dad and sister tried talking some sense into you, but it was only for a few days. Surely you could handle whatever he threw at you... right?

Axel studies you, silent for a moment. Then, with a sigh, he steps closer, placing both hands on your shoulders. His warmth seeps through your gi, steadying you.

"You listen to me," he says firmly. "You’ve always been a champion. You always will be. I knew that the second I saw you fight when we were fourteen."

A small, almost nostalgic smile tugs at his lips. "Back then, you stormed up to me after your win and said, 'Guess we have to be friends now.'"

You laugh at his words while he chuckles, shaking his head.

"You had that same fire in you then that you do now. You weren’t scared of me, of the competition, hell, of anything. And that’s never changed."

You bite your lip, something warm blooming in your chest despite the nerves still coiling in your stomach.

"You're going to win this. Not for your dad, or your dojo, or for anyone else. Not even for that seat on the board. You're going to win because you love this, and that has always been enough," he finishes.

The tension in your shoulders eases just slightly. You nod taking in his final words.

"I'd kiss you right now, but—" you cut him off by tugging him down by his gi, smashing his lips down to yours. He barely has time to react before sinking into it, his hands gripping your waist.

When you finally pull away, breathless, you whisper, "Thank you."

Axel exhales a small chuckle, brushing his thumb over your cheek as you gazed up at him lovingly.

"Next up is Y/n L/n versus Maria Àlvarez!"

Mr. Braun’s voice booms over the speakers, snapping you both back to reality. Axel smirks, giving your waist one final squeeze before stepping back.

"Go show them why you’re the best."

And with his words still burning in your chest, you go step onto the mat ignoring the world around you. Your focus was primarily on your opponent in yellow, you could do this.

The referee has you bow to him, then to each other before signaling to begin.

Maria comes at you immediately, a blur of movement as she aims a spinning kick toward your ribs.

You block with ease, countering with a swift backfist to her shoulder: one point.

She resets, bouncing lightly on her feet, trying to read you. You feint right, making her flinch, and use the opening to land a clean sidekick to her chest: two points.

The match continues at a brutal pace, but you stay ahead, striking efficiently, dodging effortlessly.

Every movement is controlled, calculated, perfectly balanced. By the end of the first round, the score reads:

Y/n: 5 Maria: 1

You breathe deeply, satisfied with your performance, until you make your way toward the sidelines.

Terry Silver’s arms are crossed, an unreadable expression on his face. But his disappointment is clear.

As soon as you step off the mat for the short break, he moves toward you, voice low but sharp enough to cut through the noise of the arena.

"Five points?" he scoffs. "You could’ve ended that in the first thirty seconds."

You tighten your jaw. "I’m controlling the fight."

Silver steps closer, eyes cold. "That’s your problem, LaRusso. Always so worried about control. About balance. You’re holding back."

"I’m winning," you fought, eyebrows furrowed.

"But you’re not fighting."

He leans in, his voice dropping to a sinister whisper. "Lose that balance crap your father taught you and actually fight. Make her fear you."

Your heart pounds in your chest. The referee calls you back to the mat for Round Two.

Maria looks fired up, her eyes locked on you with renewed determination. But something shifts inside you.

The moment the round starts, you don’t just defend, you attack.

You sidestep her opening punch and drive your knee into her ribs: Two points.

She stumbles, gasping, and you press forward, slamming your forearm into her shoulder before sweeping her legs out from under her: Three points.

You hear Silver’s words in your head. Make her fear you.

Maria scrambles to her feet, eyes flashing with frustration. She lunges, but you’re faster.

You pivot, spinning into a brutal roundhouse kick. The impact lands perfectly, snapping her head to the side.

A sickening crack is heard throughout the area as you watch a small, white fragment fly through the air before hitting the mat.

Her tooth.

Maria drops to her knees, a hand flying to her mouth, eyes wide with shock. The buzzer chimes just in time, stopping the fight momentarily. The arena is a mix of cheers and horrified gasps.

Your chest tightens. Your breath feels trapped.

You couldn't believe you just did that.

You take a step back, suddenly aware of the raw power in your own limbs. Your fists feel heavier. The taste of victory turns bitter in your mouth.

Maria wipes her lips, sees the blood on her fingers, and glares at you.

The fight isn’t over.

You make your way back to Silver and sensei Wolf, a look of accomplishment on Silver's face.

"That's what I'm talking about," he cheers raising a closed fist.

"I've never done that before," you say breathlessly.

"If you want to win," Silver smirks. "You'll do it again, and this time she won't get up."

His words send a chill down your spine, you glance over at Axel who stared at you with a look of worry.

"I can win without being aggressive, it's not who I am," you say finally putting your foot down.

You stand up straight as Silver leans in close to you, avoiding his gaze.

"If you don't knock her out, you can kiss that Legacy goodbye."

You swallow the lump in your throat, his threat has stuck a chord within you. The ref signals it's time for the final round, you make your way back to the middle, shaking your uneasiness out.

"Fight!"

This time, you hesitate.

The aggression from before is gone, replaced by an unsettling feeling in your gut. Maria takes advantage.

She lunges, landing a sharp hook to your ribs: one point.

A second later, she whips around with a fast sidekick to your shoulder: another point.

The crowd erupts. She’s pushing back.

But despite your swirling thoughts, your instincts kick in. You shift into a defensive stance, watching, waiting, and then counter.

Maria moves in, and you strike.

A precise jumping front kick snaps her head back: Two points.

A lightning-fast spinning backfist: Three points.

The buzzer sounds.

Final Score: Y/n: 15 | Maria: 4

You won.

The referee lifts your arm, but you barely hear the cheers. Your gaze flickers to Silver on the sidelines. He's glaring at you, but you ignore him.

When you've made your way back to the side, he's hot on your heels ready to fire down on you.

"You can't change where I come from," you spat turning swiftly to face him. "I can be a champion and still win the right way."

Silver chuckles darkly making your stomach twist as he closes in on you.

"You still have one more fight," he reminds you. "And if you don't demolish Nichols on that mat, if you show her mercy... you will lose everything."

He walks off leaving you to stand there in your thoughts. Axel brushes past him, greeting you with a small smile.

"You did it," he cheers coming up to rest his hands on your shoulders. "Just one more fight."

You give him a half-smile, not completely convinced there would be another fight.

"It's your turn," you say averting the focus back to your boyfriend. "Go win your fight so we have something to celebrate about tonight."

He smirks down at you, giving you a nod. "Yes, ma'am."

Axel is matched to fight Robby, and if he won he would fight Kwon from Cobra Kai.

You're a little nervous to see your old team standing across from you on the mat, and your dad and sister can't help but spare you glances.

When the fight begins it's all Robby, he's trying to strike and kick every which way against Axel, but your co-captain is precise and fluid with his blocks.

The minute Axel begins to fight back, Robby is struggling to hold on and defend.

And then the unthinkable happens. You're not sure how it starts, but when Axel kicks Robby into one of the guys from Cobra Kai, they get into each others faces and all hell breaks lose.

The teams begin to swarm out on to the mat, and everyone starts fighting each other. Before you can even process what's happening, you suddenly feel yourself being tugged backwards, before your back hits the floor.

You're farther from the rest of your team, and whoever was pulling at you is now gone. Standing up, you glance around the chaos, looking for anyone you know in sight.

Spotting your sister, you attempt to make your way through the sea of teens when you're suddenly surrounded by black gi's.

"You are supposed to fight Tory next," the Cobra Kai captain sneers taking a step towards you. "Let's make sure she can't."

The four boys begin to attack you, throwing kicks and punches at your body.

The first strike comes fast, a sharp kick aimed at your ribs. You block just in time, but another follows, a fist barely missing your face as you jerk back.

They're relentless, attacking in unison, giving you no room to breathe.

You fight back the best you can, dodging, countering, but four against one is impossible to keep up with.

A kick lands hard against your side, making you stumble. Another blow clips your shoulder.

Your body screams in protest, but you grit your teeth, refusing to go down.

Then, through the crowd, a familiar voice cuts through the noise.

"GET OFF OF HER!"

Before the next strike can land, Axel is there.

He shoves one of the Cobra Kai guys away from you, his fist colliding with another’s jaw in a sickening crack.

You feel yourself being helped up, your best friend has come to your side, her wide brown eyes scanning you.

"You alright?" Tory asks keeping you close to her.

"I'm good," you nod, squeezing her hand in reassurance. "Thanks."

The three of you begin to fight back together, Kwon is upset by the betrayal of his co-captain, and now targets everyone.

Somehow you manage to takedown one of the Cobra’s with Tory’s help and Axel has defeated the captain.

Axel stands by your side as Kwon lays on the ground, knocked out cold. Your fingers find his instinctively, and he laces his through yours without hesitation, his grip firm, and steady.

You glance up at him, bruised, breathless, but still managing a slight smile.

"My hero," you murmur, voice just above a whisper.

Axel huffs out a small laugh, shaking his head as his free hand comes up to brush a stray strand of hair from your face.

He tilts his head down pressing a soft kiss to your temple making you feel warm and safe.

Your heart is still hammering against your ribs, the adrenaline making it hard to think. But through the haze of everything, the chaos, the pain, the uncertainty, Axel squeezes your hand.

You're not sure where you'll go from here, and what drawing back from the final fight could mean for your future, but you knew one thing is for certain:

You’re not alone in this.

---------------------------------------------------------

Masterlist

taglist: @grggcribg

#axel kovacevic x reader #axel kovacevic imagines #axel kovacevic #axel cobra kai #axel x reader #cobra kai #sam larusso #miguel diaz #eli moskowitz #tory nichols #terry silver #sensei wolf #cobra kai fanfiction #cobra kai imagine

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abusivelittlebunny · 3 days ago

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Omg thats sounds so... i can't even find a word for it.

I had this thought though, and while i don't like liam he's eh to me, what would be worse is if horner was actually a dick to most people who aren't max (max doesn't see that side of him much if at all) and liam explains to carlos after sex one reason he's been trying to get horners child in him is so he's not booted out of his seat for an alpha cause sex with horner doesn't really do it for liam and his ditzy act is just that, liam tells him the second reason stating how he can't have his seat if he doesn't have sex with horner regularly as it states in his contract while also saying that he'd rather be with an alpha that actually cares for him and that if he had horners child he could atleast stop having sex with him for a while, liam also feels bad for doing this behind max's back but he doesn't really have a choice if he doesn't want to be used as a breeding mare for the rest of the redbull team.

Anyway sorry, i just find the au your building to be fascinating and i wanted to add to it, you don't actually make this a thing in it.

–🍑

Further yapping with spoilers below the cut!

This is a very interesting addition and I'll definitely take it into consideration because I also do want Liam to want to get married to Horner to keep his RB seat.

I don't think Horner is necessarily bad in bed but he makes it clear to Liam that he's just a good lay to him, nothing more, and Liam is very much hurt by it because yeah he does want to be loved and cherished, another thing he envies about Max who has multiple alphas devoted to him.

It is an utter punch to the gut when he tells Carlos he's pregnant and Carlos tells him to get rid of it (while looking away, unable to face Liam even if he wants to harden himself more than anything, he can't help it, maybe his father was right and he's too soft for this world, catching affection for any omega he takes to bed and immediately wanting to claim his offspring with pride and joy). It's not the reaction he expected at all and it breaks him.

Liam can't drive to the clinic. He just can't. He's too scared, too beaten down and Carlos grabs him by the elbow and drags him to the car, throwing him in the passenger seat and driving there himself. His frustration comes from within, he's mad at himself for not wanting Liam to get rid of the kid despite how this was the reason why he did all this in the first place. He is so full of tension he's ready to burst at any minute while Liam is sobbing next to him, clutching at his tummy. He's only two months ahead, but during that time Carlos has been fucking him almost every day even after his heat ended, barely letting Liam out of bed and even then it was just to feed him, which always ended with fucking Liam on the kitchen counter or against the wall or over the table or on the couch or the floor- at one point Carlos broke the bedframe and barely even thought about it, fucking another load into Liam before carrying him to the guest room to continue.

Sure, Carlos started out mean, downright evil when he first cornered Liam in the factory and barely pulled his race-suit off to wreck him against the nearest wall before taking him home with himself, but that was only in the beginning. Carlos had a tender side to him, one that kissed his forehead and pet his hair while Liam laid down on top of him, exhausted and drenched in sweat, knot stretching his full cunt, and one that took his time and effort when it came to giving him nice relaxing baths and washing Liam's hair and feeding him regularly delicious meals.

Carlos couldn't possibly convince him that he was heartless with the beautiful nursery set up right next to the guest room where his children slept when Carlos could have them stay over. Liam looked at the amount of effort he put into furnishing the room, the decoration and pictures all speaking for themselves; he was so proud of all of his children and had their birthdays all marked in the calendar displayed in large on the wall with specific toys each favored in separate cabinets and he kept a journal of their development and updated it daily.

Liam flipped through it secretly while Carlos was cooking him something delicious inbetween rounds, giggling and kicking his feet in fascination as he learned more and more about the alpha that never even looked in his direction previously.

He now knew the twin alpha boys he had with Max were most partial to a plush lion and plush tiger each. He knew that the alpha daughter he had with George was partial to jazz and could be instantly cheered up from crying when he sang to her and rocked her in his arms in a silly dance. He knew that Oscar's omega daughter fell asleep in the car almost as soon as she was put in it and that she rarely ever cried but was just as stubborn as her mother. He knew Franco's alpha son preferred yelling over crying like he was already questioning his authority and how Carlos can't help giving in and spoiling him which is a little embarrassing but he doesn't like to see him in distress so he can't help it.

He knew how much Lando cried to him until he was finally able to keep the fetus and how much it meant to the both of them. He knew how beautiful he found Logan when he was breastfeeding their alpha son and how he loved that he inherited Logan's beautiful green eyes but Carlos' dark curls but he didn't dare to tell him that. He knew of the regret Carlos felt for hurting Charles by impregnating his younger brother but how much he looked forward to driving Arthur to his ultrasound appointments and how it looked like they would have an omega girl.

He knew that while Carlos couldn't ever move on from all the hurt has they have caused each other with Charles, he couldn't possibly endure the divorce finalizing one day and how he wasn't able to let go of his hand when Charles was in labor, feeling his pain through the bond making it the most personal and wonderful experience of his life and how he wants to experience it again and again, give their beautiful alpha son Jules many more younger siblings and end this god-awful separation that is killing them both.

Carlos was a giver, even if he pretended not to be. He was a good alpha and a good father and a good man. He couldn't hide that soft side with Liam glued to his side almost constantly.

He did take Liam back to his own place eventually but his stay there was brief. Liam knew when Carlos kissed him goodbye in the doorway (after pounding him again for good measure in said doorway) that he couldn't possibly let this be a one time thing that they could pretend never happened. The next day he packed his things and drove back to Carlos' place on his own and he didn't even need to say a word before Carlos picked him up and carried him to the couch for round 2. And he made him pancakes after.

A man like that asking him to get rid of their child, however unplanned it was, seemed impossible. Even when they reached the parking lot of the clinic, Liam just couldn't believe it. He begged him amongst tears, promised he'd never bother Carlos again, not make him take responsibility just please, please-

"Go." Was all Carlos said to him, not even looking in his direction, just staring out his window and clutching at the steering wheel with an iron grip.

It shocked Liam into silence and after a couple minutes of slowing his breathing, he did.

He numbly opened the car door and walked into the clinic, feeling like his head was under water as he walked up to the receptionist. He knew he was being asked questions and had been given a form to fill out but he couldn't really understand it. He wasn't able to answer anything, pen slack in his hand and the paper too wet to write on. Wet? Ah, he was crying again, he didn't even notice.

What he noticed however was the front door busting open with the volume of a gunshot, and he turned in time as Carlos near tackled him to the ground with the force of how he ran into him. He thought for a brief second that he was in trouble but Carlos had his arms around him, picking him up and squeezing him so tight to himself it left bruises.

But the pain meant nothing when all Liam could hear was Carlos' breathless chanting of: "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, please don't, please don't do it, please, please, I'm sorry, I want it, I want our baby, I want you to keep it, please don't go through with this, I'm so sorry-," right against his neck.

Carlos fucking ran to the car, still carrying Liam as if he was afraid that Liam might bolt the moment he lets him go and the sex they had on the backseat was nothing short of a complete rebirth of their affair. It was as if a wall has been broken down, Carlos couldn't stop saying how perfect and gorgeous Liam was as he kissed him all over, how he couldn't wait to see what a beautiful baby he'd birth for him and how he would have Liam move in with him permanently as soon as possible and he doesn't care what Max will say, he can't let him get rid of his baby, he can't, he will protect Liam and their child with his life-

And it suddenly clicked to Liam.

Max.

Max was the reason why Carlos was at the factory. Max told Carlos to make a move on him when he was on the brink of heat. Max was the reason why Carlos treated him so rough in the beginning, hurting him and calling him mean things while now he was his pure adoring self worshipping him in the backseat while the rain hammered down outside.

Max wanted him to get knocked up and then force him to abort it to hurt him.

Liam clawed at Carlos' rain soaked shirt until he ripped it clean off his back and cried out as he pushed his perfect cock back into Liam's cunt where it belonged.

He kissed the praises right out of Carlos' mouth and rocked back against his thrusts, begging him to fuck him harder and harder and harder and never ever let him go again.

Oh how he was going to make Max regret to have ever been born.

#and this is still not all there are more twists happening later #but this is juicy as hell and gives more info to the #omegaverse au #carlos x liam #my fic

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