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jinkookspencil · 2 years

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locked up plans | myg

you’re struggling to unlock your suitcase after getting home from a trip with yoongi…. why won’t it @?!#%&@! budge?!

description / tw: ~1.6k words / yoongi x reader (f) / fluff / established relationship / lots of swearing… y/n is just a frustrated, let her live / one-shot

author’s note: ahhhh i just hit 200 followers!! ah thank you all so much! <3 :’) this is my first time writing for yoongi - i didn't think i would be able to but i just thought it fit him so well. please let me know if you think it's accurate/inaccurate - feedback is always welcome!! <3 also i might switch from full names in the title to just initials or first names...

“I’m about to get a fucking hammer. Or a knife. JUST. FUCKING ANYTHING!”

Unlocking the lock on a suitcase should’ve taken a maximum of four seconds…. but so far it’s taken you 14 minutes and it still wouldn’t budge.

You and Yoongi had just gotten back home from a trip. It had been lovely, spending some time away together…. but the both of you had known and anticipated the first thing you’d be doing as soon as you both got home. As he planned, Yoongi abandoned his bags and went straight to his home studio after coming up with a song idea mid-flight. And this lock was getting in the way of you and your plans, trapping your shampoo, conditioner, and other hair care products you needed for the hot shower you craved after such a long flight.

It’s not that the key didn’t fit into the lock, it did…. after the first ten minutes. Then, it became a matter of it actually doing its job and unlocking the lock…. but it just. refused. to do so.

You’ve tried everything you could think of - taking the key out and trying again, tilting the lock at a different angle, using Yoongi’s key, you even tried using a bobby pin…. Nothing worked, and now…. you were getting angry.

Twisting and toying with the key and letting out a stream of curses didn’t do anything but alert Yoongi, who suddenly appeared by your side.

“Hey, I heard you from the studio - are you okay?”, he asked, his arms crossed as he leaned against the doorframe.

“This stupid.. fucking.. lock,” you start, shimmying the key within it, “just.. won’t.. fucking… budge… CAN YOU FUCKING WORK YOU LITTLE SHIT?!”

Yoongi laughs as he walks over and squats by you and the suitcase on the floor. “Darling, have you ever heard that objects get affected if you yell at them? The frequencies and wavelengths around it get affected by the toxicity of the words… We have to treat them like people. Haven’t you heard of that experiment?”

You blink at Yoongi and nod silently, refusing to admit that you hadn’t heard of that experiment… He was so clever, and you always wanted to match up to him…..

“Try speaking to it gently, asking it to cooperate rather than insulting it….”

You stare at the lock, and forcing a smile, you say, “Hi, beautiful, shiny lock, can you please cooperate so that I can take a shower? I’d really appreciate it.”

You insert the key into the lock but it still wouldn’t budge.

“Please,” you let out through gritted teeth, shimmying the key again before shoving the suitcase altogether. “I said PLEASE you little shit!”

“Come to think of it I think that experiment was just done on plants……” Yoongi comments plainly, smiling when you glare up at him.

He takes the lock into his hands, inspecting it. “This lock looks poorly made. Do you need any of my tools? I can grab them from the shed in a minute and we can just break this lock open….”

“No, Yoongi, thanks…..I need to do this myself,” you say with conviction.

“Okay, I believe in you. I need to work on this song some more but let me know if you need me”, he says, and you thank him as he walked out the door.

Forty. Five. Minutes.

To try and open a simple lock with a key.

You stare at the lock and the suitcase in defeat. There was either something wrong with the lock, or something wrong with you….

Just one… more… try….

“FUUUCKKKK!!!!!”

In seconds, Yoongi opens the bedroom door to find you in the same state you were in 45 minutes ago.

“Honey…. still?!” Again, he kneels by your side.

Your eyes meet his in anger.

“Yoongi, I’ve had enough. Why the FUCK won’t this open?! I’m not a fucking quitter but I think we need your saw or something…”

It was an incredibly trivial, meaningless thing to be so gutted over but it was always hard for you to admit defeat. Knowing that, Yoongi reaches for your shoulder, rubbing it with his gentle touch….

“Hey…. It’s okay. Try again.”

“Yoongi, I’ve been trying for forty five minutes… I think it’s time I give up.,” you say, staring at your red fingers.

“If you want me to get my saw, just say so and I’ll get it…. You know I always tell you, darling, whether it's something like this or something much bigger - there’s no shame in giving up because it means you were clever and mature enough to walk away…. And it gives you time to focus on better things that you should be focusing on, like the shower you wanted to take… Right?”

“You’ve told me that so many times, Yoongi, and I see what you mean, it’s just… it’s still hard for me to accept giving up.”

He nods. “I know… Try again, in front of me, maybe the lock will be intimidated by my presence and will cooperate..”. He raises an eyebrow at the lock. “If you don’t want to, or if you want me to go grab the saw now… just tell me.”

You stare at Yoongi, then at the lock.

“Or if you want, we can just leave this suitcase as is and try a little every day… We can replace everything inside, they’re all material things anyways…. A bit impractical, but if that’s what you want…”

You let out a laugh at Yoongi’s suggestion. “I’ll try again.”

“Okay, darling, let’s try. But hey,” he reaches out a hand, stopping you from reaching for the lock. “Breathe. Take a deep breath.”

He takes a deep breath himself and motions for you to imitate him, and you can’t help but do so…. It calmed you down, and so did Yoongi… If you saw yourself as a failure, at least it helped knowing that Yoongi never would….

Slowly, you enter the key into the lock, but once again, it wouldn’t budge.

You stare up at Yoongi. “Try again.”

You do. Nothing happens.

He shakes his head.

“Out of curiosity, did you try that spare key that this key came with?”, he asks.

“No, it’s just a spare….” You zip open the outer pocket of the suitcase and reach for the spare key, catching Yoongi shaking his head at your obvious choice of where one would hide a spare key. You insert it in the lock, and in an instant - it springs open.

Your eyes widen and your jaw drops, staring at Yoongi with his eyebrows raised.

“Oh my g - wait, how did you know that would work? Did you fucking switch the keys?”, you ask Yoongi.

He blinks. “Honey, why would I do that?! I don’t know how I thought of the spare.. But hey - it opened and you didn’t give up - even though there’s nothing wrong with giving up,” he reiterates.

“I didn’t do it on my own….” you sigh.

“Darling,” he laughs. “It’s open. And no one accomplishes every little thing on their own.”

You knew that - Yoongi had taught you way too much. “I know, Yoongi… I know…”, you say as you reach up to hold his face. “I’m lucky to have you.”

“Ay,” he waves off your reply, which you know is just one of the very few ways Yoongi deals with compliments and displays of affection when he’s not in the mood to reciprocate… It’s why he shocks you when he suddenly mumbles, “I’m lucky to have you, too.”

Scratching his head, he stares at the suitcase as you begin rummaging through your items for your hair care products. “Also out of curiosity, can you hand me that lock and the original key?”

“Sure, why?”, you hand him the lock and the key you had been toying with for nearly an hour. “Are you gonna make another spare? Might as well use the spare we already have instead of the original.”

“No, it’s not that….”, he starts.

He locks the lock on its own, and inserts the original key, twisting it open with ease.

He stares up at you, his mouth agape, as is yours, ready to say something.

“I fucking hate you, actually,” you say, too tired to be truly angry at Yoongi or the lock anymore.

“Honey… I’m not saying I didn’t believe you all this time… but that was too easy. Try again, with the lock not attached to the suitcase,” he says, throwing you the closed lock and the cursed key.

“Fucking…”, you mutter. You insert the key into the lock and, as If it had suddenly been replaced with a different lock and key, it sprung open in less than a second.

“What the FUCK?!”, you yell, staring at the unlocked lock. “How?!”

“I don’t know, darling….”, Yoongi sighs, placing a soft kiss on your forehead as you stare at the lock in confusion.

“What if…”, he begins. “What if, you had to have spent that time struggling to open it because the universe knew I needed that amount of time to finish working on my song… so that I could hop in to the shower with you as soon as I was done….”

You stare at Yoongi.

“I firmly believe this,” he proclaims with confidence, slapping the suitcase to emphasise his conviction.

You continue to stare at him before rolling your eyes and grabbing your haircare products as you get up and walk toward the bathroom, beat, but, hearing footsteps behind you, you leave the bathroom door open…..

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folliesandfolderols · 8 months

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Writing prompts day 27

From this prompt list. If you're reading this far, I'm not sure you need any explanation, but the short version is I haven't written any fiction since 2019, I set a goal to write at least 150 words/day in 2024, and this list was my way in. Also I abruptly decided on day 2 I would write an entire Tim/Damian story connecting all the prompts, because I am Good at Judging My Limits. /sarcasm Anyway, I finished the rough draft and am now unlocking entries as I edit.

Read from the beginning here

Days 24, 25, and 26 here (combined because work makes me not have enough time to write anything but super-short posts)

***

97. In a hoarse whisper, “Fuck, you’re killing me here.”

***

Once they were both naked and in the shower, Tim caught Damian's wandering hands in his own, unable to repress another smile at the narrowed eyes that were the closest Damian came to visibly pouting. "Nope. Now that I'm not sleep deprived I want to get you out of here and into my bed as quick as possible."

Damian accordingly grabbed a washcloth from the shelf and started rubbing soap onto it, but he couldn't just agree without pushing back. "Tt. You are acting as though we must be prone to engage in relations."

Tim shouted with laughter somewhat garbled by water as he stuck his head under the spray. "Relations? Are you secretly a 70-year-old Midwestern grandma?"

He turned to get his shampoo bottle. Damian looked down his nose at him, scrubbing his chest. "If I am, you might have stranger kinks than I previously imagined."

Tim lathered up his hair. "Oh? Now I'm interested. What kinks did you think I had? Or should I say 'hoped I had?'" The water was carrying soap suds down Damian's belly, outlining each muscle in a way that made him want to bite.

Damian waited for him to finish rinsing and open his eyes before answering. "I wouldn't say hoped. But I did speculate."

Hmm. Maybe Damian's initial request hadn't come so far out of left field as he'd thought. Tim grinned at him and got his own washcloth. "So? Tell me what you thought might work for me."

"Dominance, definitely. You are what Richard likes to call a 'control freak.'" Damian took his turn with the shampoo bottle.

Tim snorted. "He's a fine one to talk. That's just a side effect of being trained by Bruce. But you're not wrong, I can be bossy. What else?"

"Bear in mind that I am not overly familiar with these things. Most of my information comes from what I've overheard secondhand or seen during patrols. But I thought you might like shibari." The tips of Damian's ears turned bright red at the word.

Intrigued, Tim hummed thoughtfully. He hadn't devoted much thought to the concept before, but . . . the thought of taking rope—maybe in his own red and black colors—and trussing Damian up with his full cooperation actually did have his heartbeat pounding in his ears.

Damian gave him a slight smile. "I needn't ask if I'm right, judging by that." He nodded at Tim's cock, now fully hard. Not that he was in much better shape. "I also wondered if perhaps you would want to take photos. You seem to preserve quite a few of them as keepsakes."

Tim reached for his conditioner. He fought to keep his voice steadier than his hand, which trembled slightly as he squeezed the bottle. "So far you're three for three." He wasn't sure what aroused him more: the fact that Damian had bothered thinking about him in that context at all, or the revelation of how well the baby bat understood him. Of course, he was also vaguely terrified, but that could wait. "Can I ask what some of your kinks are? Besides the praise one, that's probably all of us too." Again due to Bruce, though he wasn't going to say that here and kill Damian's boner.

Damian shrugged and took the conditioner from Tim's hand to pour it into his own. "I don't have any that I know of. Of course, I was also too certain of Father's and Oracle’s oversight to feel comfortable looking at porn anywhere he paid for the internet or the device, which eliminated most opportunities."

Tim, unable to withstand the temptation any longer, reached to rest his hands on Damian's chest, feeling the shift of his pecs as he massaged the conditioner through the ends of his hair. "I'm curious to see what you'll find out later."

Damian laid his hands over Tim's, expression softening. "You can help me with that, if you'd like." He brushed a kiss on Tim's mouth. "I would like it very much if you would."

Oh, hell. Damian admitting he wanted Tim to help him discover his kinks? And asking for it instead of demanding it as his due? Was there a name for that kind of kink? Because Tim was absolutely experiencing it right now. It felt like the top of his head had disappeared and all that was left was fog.

His answer came out a hoarse whisper. "Fuck, you're killing me here. I have got to get you into bed."

Damian smiled again, and Tim's chest ached, and that needy voice in the back of his mind urged him to make a home of Damian’s embrace. Which was foolishness. As if this were anything other for Damian than just the easiest route to gaining more experience.

He let Damian kiss him again, and again, and again, until he couldn't tell if he was dizzy from lack of oxygen or from the realization that Damian preferred to learn from him.

When they finally dried off, Tim offered Damian an unopened toothbrush and brushed his own teeth. Tim grabbed his hand as soon as he rinsed and pulled him toward the bedroom. "C'mon. I have some things I wanna make up to you."

Damian's steps slowed from their eager stumble, and Tim stopped to check what was wrong. Damian's expression had gone to mildly discomfited. "I don't wish to be transactional in this matter, Drake. You've apologized and I've accepted."

Tim's palms actually throbbed with the need to hold him. He wasn't very good with words when it came to stuff like this, but they seemed to understand each other pretty well when it came to touch. "That isn't what I meant. Trust me, I want this because I want to feel good with you, not because I think I owe you. Okay?" He gave Damian's fingers another light tug. "Come lie down."

Damian nodded and followed without further complaint.Once they were beside the bed, Tim gave Damian a gentle shove and had him sprawling out on his back in the middle of the mattress. He followed, crawling across the tangled comforter to straddle Damian's waist, then on second thought overlaid him entirely. He was heavier than he looked, but Damian wouldn't find it difficult to manage. He was so strong now, he probably could hold Tim up at the waist indefinitely. Now there was a thought to pursue at a future time.

Days twenty-eight & twenty-nine here

#damitim #tim and damian and 150 prompts #folliefic #like i know what you want #nsft

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noveldivergence · 9 months

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Jan. 6, 2024 Update

Still sick (not covid) but had to mask up and go to Target to grab more shampoo and conditioner because a miracle occured: both bottles ran out within a week of each other. Don't think that's ever happened to me?

Chapter one is polished up and it's longer than it was even before, which delights me, cause I feel like I did it to spite just that one guy from yesterday's update lmao. Still some pacing issues near the end, but I need to move to chapter two lest I get caught in editing Groundhog Day and never move forward. I really have a lot of confidence in this project being good enough to actually query an agent once it's done. Might face a lot of initial or ultimate rejections, but worth trying!

Probably won't get chapter two done tomorrow though--have to get groceries and then have a book club meeting. Though if I feel horrendous I won't go to the book club mixer. But it's also right beside my favorite art supply store so....the temptation is greater possibly. We'll see.

Drawing classes are progressing but not as quickly as I hoped--that SAID, I acknowledge that's because I'm impatient. I'm trying to work on that too, but that's slow going...ironically.

Keeping a physical commonplace book isn't working out so I think I'm going to create it in Notion? Maybe? Makes my hands hurt to write that much with a pen, even worse than crochet and needlework, which are less frustrating for me. I'm hope that when I get my fountain pen and inks it's not too bad :/ I'm still excited about them though! I've got a Kaweco Sport pen, a converter, and some Diamine inks on the way, as well as some alcohol markers (skin tone pack and a general colors pack).

Gonna see if I can get any of chapter two written tonight, I suppose.

#personal tag

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davyjoneslockr · 2 years

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Fugo for that headcanon thing

5, 6, 34, and 40 please?

(For this ask game)

5 (crying) and 6 (laughter) are both answered here!

34: Affection

He'll only accept affection from certain people - and they have to be people he trusts a lot. This especially goes for physical affection; the only two people older than him who he's comfortable receiving touch from are Narancia and Mista. He even keeps Bucciarati and Abbacchio at a distance - literally - except in occasional circumstances. People like Sheila and Giorno are easier for him to accept physical affection from, since they're younger (even if marginally), but post-PHF, he's a bit more hesitant with Giorno. This is due in part to his nerves surrounding their relationship shifting towards a romantic one, but mainly due to his own self-loathing - fearing that whatever he touches gets ruined, and therefore not wanting to "ruin" or hurt someone as precious as Giorno. This causes Giorno to take more initiative in their long pre-relationship flirting phase (I headcanon that the feelings are mutual by the final chapter of PHF, but they don't actually get together until a couple or more years down the road), but he's patient and ultimately lets Fugo take things at his own pace. The first time Fugo works up the courage to initiate a kiss, Giorno's elated.

It's hard for him to accept other kinds of affection, too. He has a tendency to brush off compliments, or smother them with self-hating thoughts. He does this quite a bit with his friends, and a lot with Giorno at first. Bucciarati's probably the best at getting through to him; he doesn't throw out compliments to just anyone, and always says them with complete sincerity. It's hard for Fugo to deal with at times, but, at the end of the day, he really appreciates it.

On a lighter note, when he wants affection from someone he trusts, he's like a cat. He'll sit down next to someone for a while, not saying anything, and when they don't get the memo, he'll flop his head onto their shoulder. And still not say anything. Once he's comfortable enough with Giorno, he'll just grab his hand and place it on his head, and Giorno knows that's his signal for Ruffle My Hair Now Please. Y'know how people talk about golden retriever boyfriends? He's a Spoiled Grumpy Persian Cat Boyfriend.

40: Scent

He has one advantage over his BFFs (Narancia and Mista) in that, at the very least, he showers. And doesn't use 3-in-1 body wash. However, he does use really cheap shampoo that destroys his hair, and no conditioner, so he's perpetually greasy. He looks like he smells awful, but he doesn't. Not that he's necessarily good, either. I don't know. He probably smells like hand sanitizer and clorox wipes.

#he gets fancy ass shampoo and conditioner from giorno when they start dating. but until then he's greaselord supreme #jjba #jjba headcanons #pannacotta fugo #fugio

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boxofbadaddiction · 3 years

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Reassurance

Fred Weasley x [She/They]Reader

WARNINGS: Blood Mention. Death Mention. Lots of Crying. Nudity. Memory/Nightmare in Italics. Scars. PTSD. Swearing.

SUMMARY: After Y/n wakes from a nightmare, of Fred's death, Fred helps them calm down and reassures them he isn't going anywhere.

For @prettywhitedoves because I broke her heart with Dead!Fred tiktoks [It starts rough but there’s fluff, I promise.]

Y/n’s hands grip harshly onto the cold porcelain of their bathroom sink, tears stream from their eyes and crash against the basin as they try desperately to ease their shaking and panicked breaths. Their limbs tremble under the weight of holding themself upright; the white light cast from the bulb above the mirror feels like a spotlight as it abrasively sheds down upon their broken state.

They draw a deep breath to calm themself but as more memories rise to the surface of their mind a cracked sob overtakes their chest instead.

Fred’s laid out, cold and still, on a stretcher on the stone floor of the Great Hall. Splashes of blood and thick smudges of ash and dirt contaminate his beautiful face. Above him Molly stands crying for the loss of her child as George clings to his chest; body wracked with despair and broken wails. Y/n stands frozen in fear staring at his lifeless body.

“Y/n/n?” a distant voice calls, beckoning them back to reality. The bathroom door creaks open, shedding the light into the dark bedroom without and highlighting a familiar face.

Y/n looks to the mirror as they enter, their vision blurred from the tears that refuse to stop falling.

“Shit- Y/n/n, what’s wrong?” the person speaks rushing to pull them into his body. “Breathe, Darling, just breathe I’m here.”

“But you- you weren’t” they sob, clinging to his shirt, “you were dead. I saw you...on that stretcher in the Hall-” “The Hall?" he questions in confusion, it takes a moment for things to make sense but suddenly everything clicks into place. 'Another nightmare' he thinks.

"Love...I was just knocked out, remember? I’m okay.”

“It felt so real-” “It was just a dream” Fred assures, slightly swaying them in place as he holds them, thankful as he feels their cries start to steady the longer he holds them.

“What would I have done without you?”

“Hey, shh, don’t think about that.” he says, pulling away enough to lift their gaze to his, “I’m here. You don’t have to worry about that.”

He raises a hand to comfortingly stroke through their hair and takes a deep pointed breath in through his nose and out through his lips wanting Y/n to do the same. She draws some long slow breaths in time with Fred’s, one hand placed above his heart to be sure it’s truly still beating.

Their eyes close as they take in his scent and the rise and fall of his chest against their splayed palm; it’s the reassurance they need to finally calm down.

“There,” Fred remarks, bringing both his hands to cup his lover’s face and swipe away their tears with the pad of his thumbs, “that’s better.”

“I’m sorry.” Y/n croaks, “No, no, you have nothing to be sorry for, Love.” he places a kiss on their forehead but grimaces at the feeling of their cold skin beneath his. “You’re freezing sweetheart.”

“A little.” Y/n chuckles sadly. “Reckon I look like a right mess too.” “A little.” Fred teases and Y/n bats his chest with a weak arm. “What do you say we take a shower and warm you up, hmm? You’ll feel much better.”

“Okay.” she nods.

Fred squeezes their arms momentarily before directing them to take a seat on the toilet lid while he moves to get the water running hot.

As the water runs Fred turns back to Y/n, he kneels before them and places his hands to their waist, “I’m gonna take this off, okay?”

At their approval Fred’s fingers hook beneath the hem of their shirt; Y/n lifts their arms as he pulls the fabric up and over their body.

Sat bare chested before him Y/n looks to him with a soft expression, they reach a hand out and grab the ties of his pajama bottoms giving a playful tug, Fred cocks a brow to the action. “Well you are joining me, aren’t you?” they pout. “Of course.” Fred laughs breathily.

Y/n grabs the hem of his pants as they stand, “I’m going to take these off, is that ok?” she parrots his earlier words. “If I ever say no to you asking to take my pants off, Love...check me into St. Mungos, I’ve lost my mind.” Fred jokes bringing a giggle to Y/n’s chest and a wide smile to their lips. She tugs the material down to his knees and Fred steps the rest of the way out kicking the clothing aside.

Y/n next removes his shirt, with slight difficulty thanks to his size, as the shirt slips from his head roughing his hair Fred dips to grab a hold of her waist pulling them into his body and placing a kiss to their lips.

Y/n’s initial gasp of surprise quickly turns to a content moan, they bring their hands up to rest against his chest but Fred jumps away with a sharp inhale.

“Shit your hands are cold!”

“Oh, are they?” Y/n asks feigning concern, “Are they still cold here?” she questions, placing their icy palm on the inside of his thigh making him jump once more. She laughs at his reaction and attacks his exposed skin in more places just to hear him laugh.

“Ah- woman, I swear!” Fred exclaims as she touches his neck. “Swear what?” Y/n challenges, “You’ll be showering alone in a minute if you keep that up.”

His partner gasps at his words, “ You wouldn’t…” “Wouldn’t I?”

Y/n’s mouth hangs open wide then closes softly as they look at him with an exaggerated pout.

“Oh, not with the face...alright, come on you,” he says, giving into them he places a kiss to their brow, “we’re wasting water.”

Discarding their last items of clothing the two step into the steaming warmth of the shower, Y/n being the first to go beneath the waters jets.

They spend some time simply holding one another, running handfuls of water over each other and basking in the feel of their bodies pressed together.

Fred reaches for some of their body soap, lathering it between his hands he runs long strokes across Y/n’s back and down her chest. He massages her neck and back to rid the tension they’ve been holding there.

Reaching for the shampoo he twirls his finger before their face instructing them to turn around so he can wash their hair. Y/n sighs comfortably at the feeling of his fingers working against their scalp. After rinsing he does the same with the conditioner.

“Your turn.” Y/n smiles, once he’s finished, squeezing some soap into their palm. Fred smiles and lets Y/n dutifully massage his body as she cleans him. Turning so she can clean his back Fred gets lost to the feeling of their fingers tracing his body and his head lulls back as he basks in the moment; while Y/n, contrarily, gets lost scanning the countless scars that litter his body.

From the ones they’d long ago familiarised themself with: due to Quidditch and pranks gone wrong, to the newer ones she were yet to and that were much harder to look at; ones which Fred usually hides.

Cuts and lashes from the wall that collapsed atop of him, nearly stealing him from the world, cover his back. Each one a reminder to them that he survived and that he’s here breathing; that he healed.

A few fresh tears fall from Y/n’s eyes as her finger repeatedly traces a particularly large one, they lean forward and place three tender kisses to the mark; one at the beginning, one in the middle, and one at the end.

Fred can sense their change in mood and turns to see them standing with a forced smile and broken teary eyes. He tilts their chin up with his forefinger and thumb and kisses them slowly.

“I’m here.” he says simply between breaths as their lips move together.

“I survived,” he whispers to them.

“I’m not leaving you, I swear.” this time as he speaks his own tear drops to his cheek.

“I really don’t know what I would have done without you.” Y/n voices, nudging their nose into the underside of his jaw as she holds him close.

“You’ll never have to know.”

After their shower Fred helps Y/n get dressed into a pair of warm pajamas, he pulls back the blankets of their bed and slips beneath the sheets inviting them to lay with him.

Their arms encapsulate his torso and head buries into his chest. Releasing a heavy breath Y/n mumbles to him simply, “I love you, Freddie.”

“I love you more, darling.”

#fred weasley x reader #fred weasley/reader #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley fluff #fred weasley x y/n

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angry-geese · 3 years

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Choso Kamo x Reader

Warnings: sfw. mention of nudity but it's really nothing graphic. very brief nsfw mention. fluff. gn!reader

Notes: some fluff with Choso. reader decides to have a spa day and makes Choso join them

Word Count: 1.8k

It feels like it's been forever since you've gotten a day to relax like this.

You've designated today as a self care day. You could really use one. It's been a while since you properly sat back and relaxed. You've decided to go all out, breaking out new skincare and slightly pricier soaps you were saving for a rainy day. Things you always said you’d use, but never did because the situation never felt right. You figure you'll do your hair, too. Might as well. You’ve got time.

You like your showers warm. It always worries Choso that you’ll burn yourself. You sit with your hand in the water, gauging the temperature. A thin layer of bubbles covers the surface. Steam coils off the water. It's hot enough.

Choso can't help but watch with almost a childlike wonder. Wherever you go, he tends to follow. In his defense, he's curious. All the soaps and candles smell good. He's never really seen you do anything like this.

His gaze drifts to the floor when you start undressing. He's not sure why, only that he knows it's wrong to stare. He's seen you like this plenty of times before, but it always makes him blush. Doesn't matter if it's his first time, or his hundredth. You remind him that it's okay to look, that he can see you like this. Only he gets to see you like this. He's certain of that.

You try to distract from the anxiety of being the only naked one in the room.

"Are you coming in or not?" You ask.

"You want me to..." His face turns bright red.

"Of course," you motion for him to join you.

You coax his shirt over his head. He gets the hint, undressing the rest of the way.

He watches with baited breath as you slip into the water, steam drifting off your skin. You sigh and lean back, resting your head on the edge of the tub. The suds cling to your skin.

He settles into the water in front of you, his knees pulled to his chest. You part your legs enough to give him room to sit between them. He leans against your chest, trying to be mindful of his weight. He really isn't that heavy, but he's a bit wary of hurting you. You card a wet hand through his hair, drawing it out of his eyes. The warm water and epsom salts feel nice across his sore muscles. It's a bit too hot for him, leaving his skin pink, but you don't seem to be bothered by it so he says nothing. You gather a bit of suds in your hands, leaving a dot of them on his nose, laughing at his confused look.

Choso closes his eyes and sighs, leaning into your touch. You press a kiss to the top of his head. His cheeks turn bright red. Your arms snake around his body, holding him to your chest. He leans his head back, his eyes meeting yours. His hair tickles your neck.

“I feel like I could fall asleep.” He says.

You rest your chin on top of his head. “Good.”

He's never felt love quite like this. Of course he's felt love before; with his brothers, for his friends. But his love for you is vastly different. It's strange. He wants to hold you close and never let you go. He’s head-over-heels for you. The way you look at him with such adoration makes his chest swell with affection. He can't stop the smile that spreads across his face.

The face mask is a violent shade of green against your skin. You warm the paste up in your hands for a moment, though you can't tell if it helps or not. It smells strongly of cucumbers. You don't want to get up to look in the mirror, so you haphazardly apply it to your nose and the skin under your eyes.

“Do you want some?” You ask. He looks uncertain, but he nods anway.

"It's cold," he says.

"It's good for your skin." You say.

You give him a pleading look. You've forced him to sit while you paint his nails, or braid his hair. He likes it. As long as you're giving him attention, he'll tolerate a lot.

His response is only a wary look. He relaxes once you finish, closing his eyes, leaning back into your chest. Your body is warm. He runs a bit cold, naturally. He hardly notices it, but you certainly do. The hot water has turned his skin a nice shade of red. Under the water, his hand rests on your thigh, gripping it softly. He likes the way your thighs rest around his waist. They're warm, and softer than his. He's always admired how soft you are. He loves the way your body curves and dips. He loves the way his clothes look on you, or yours on him. He thinks you're strong, sturdy and beautiful in a way he never knew before he met you.

"Lean your head back so I'm not waterboarding you," you say, pressing a kiss to his temple.

He hums as you pour a bit of water over his head, your fingers working through his hair. Your nails are getting long. They feel nice against his scalp.

He practically begs you to play with his hair. He says it helps him sleep. You believe it. He's usually knocked out within minutes of you starting. Many of your nights together are spent with him sitting between your legs, or his head in your lap. It doesn't matter how warm it is outside, he has to sleep either in your arms, or with you in his.

The shampoo you use smells like coconuts, he notes. It smells nice. He practically purrs in delight as you start working the suds into his hair. His breath hitches as you brush a particularly sensitive spot at his temple. You make sure to work that area specifically.

You work out any tangles in his hair with conditioner and your fingers. He likes this part the best. You spend extra time brushing your fingers through his hair. He groans when you work down to his neck, kneading the muscles of his shoulders in your hands. At this point you aren't even scrubbing his head anymore.

He's almost disappointed when you stop.

"Let me do yours." He says.

Choso moves so you can lean against his chest. You worry about putting all of your weight on him. He insists he can take it. He can. But your initial hesitation is there. His chin rests on top of your head. His strong arms snake around you, holding you close. You feel so safe in his arms. You could fall asleep there.

And you just might.

His fingers run through your hair as he pours water over your head, shielding your eyes. He knows it can be a bit unpleasant. Once your hair is wet, he squeezes a sizable glob of shampoo onto his hands. Your hair is soft, he notes. He wonders if you like your hair being played with as much as he does. You hum softly as he starts to work it into your hair.

Slowly his hands work down, kneading the muscles of your neck and shoulders. Goosebumps raise along your flesh. He presses a kiss to the top of your head. His hands are warm. You find yourself dozing off in his arms. You feel so safe cradled against his chest.

When all the suds are rinsed out, he helps you work out any knots with his fingers. He likes the texture of the conditioner far less. It's cold and slimy, he says. You're not sure if that's how you'd describe it. He'd use 5-in-1 soap if you'd let him; which might be Yuji's fault.

He leans down to give you a kiss. It's just a quick peck, but the warmth of his lips lingers on yours for long after. You pull him back to deepen it, your tongue pressing past his lips, exploring his mouth. A line of saliva connects your lips when you pull away. You giggle at the way his face turns red.

Under the water, his fingers lace with yours. You lift his hand up, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. His heartbeat stops for a moment, before picking up in pace.

The two of you stay like that until long after the water has gone cold. Choso’s breathing has evened out, he hasn't moved in quite a while. You’re too warm and content in his arms to move. You’re not sure how long it’s been since you’ve dozed off. But the water is cold, and your fingers and toes are wrinkly from being underwater for so long.

“Did you fall asleep?” You ask, giggling when he shakes his head.

He still tries to hold onto you even as you get out of the water. You’ll worry about cleaning up in the morning.

You steal one of his shirts to wear. It's too big for the both of you, and has long since been designated a sleep shirt. His clothes are always huge on him, he likes the way they swallow him (and you) up. He sits with you between his knees, drying your hair off with a towel. You hate going to bed with wet hair.

Idly you flip through channels, looking for something to watch. Not much looks good. You have netflix—you have Yuji’s password—but nothing there looks good either. Eventually you settle on a late-night game show. You’re not particularly interested in it, but it's pretty nostalgic. It used to wake you up when you were a kid.

“Let me paint your nails,” you say. “Please?”

He nods. Your pleading look will be the death of him. Choso can't deny you anything.

He’s never been so hopelessly in love.

You sit cross-legged in front of him, pulling one of his hands into your lap. The nail polish you choose for him is clear. The other ones are in the bathroom, and you don't feel like getting up. You’ve tried all sorts of colors on him. His favorites are black and dark purple. He thinks they match his outfits rather well.

When you’re done, you grab ahold of both his hands, carefully examining his nails. They look fine. Really, you just want to hold his hands. You deem them good enough. He holds his hands as still as possible so as to not smear the nail polish.

When you’re finally ready to settle down for the night, he pulls you into his arms. You tug the covers up to your chin, making sure to wrap them around him too.

“Y/N?” He says.

“Yes?”

“I love you.” He says.

“I know.” You say. “I love you too.”

#jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #choso kamo x reader #choso x reader #choso kamo #choso #choso fluff #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #fluff #jjk #jujutsu kaisen

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laal-ishq-diaries · 4 years

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showering with them || mha guys

december 26, 2020

writer’s note: nothing to say about this. little blurbs on what it’s liking showering with some mha men. i just love showering and self-indulgence.

warnings: implied intercourse (tagged under #pyaas). descriptions of the female body. hurt/comfort.

KAI CHISAKI ~ OVERHAUL

when kai, who usually showers all by his lonesome, requests your presence in the bathroom one evening, you know he’s craving some sweet, sweet intimacy. you head into the shower together and bask in the warmth emanating from the water for a few minutes before he pushes your back against the wall of the shower and drops to his knees in front of you. making eye contact with you, kai lathers you up with your body-wash. he starts from the soles of your feet before moving up and using his strong touch to ease out the tension from your body. by the time he’s lathering up your inner thighs and hips, you’re leaning against the shower wall with your eyes closed and in absolute bliss. your eyes snap open when you feel a cool substance being dabbed onto your cheek and realize that it’s body-wash and the damn culprit is now standing in front of you with a cheeky grin of his own. one playful huff of indignation later, you take the opportunity to wash your face—an excuse to do something other than quietly melt under his touch—as he skillfully kneads the flesh of your bottom, abdomen, and breasts. afterwards, he turns you around and presses your front into the wall in order to wash your back and arms before taking the removable showerhead and washing the suds off your entire body (all the while pressing kisses across each newly cleansed patch of skin). showering with him is a rare blessing given your busy schedules but he still makes you feel desired and every atom in your body is now screaming at you to return the favor.

KEIGO TAKAMI ~ HAWKS

you’re already in the shower when keigo comes home from a particularly stressful mission. he quickly undresses and joins you. all he does is wrap his arms and wings around your body and inhale your scent—he missed you so damn much so just let him have this for a few minutes. in return though, it is up to you to initiate any actual bathing. your arms stretch to grab shampoo (yours, because keigo loves how you smell) and massage a generous amount into his unruly hair. his satisfied coos and chirps spur you on as you wash away the physical and mental grime of the mission. as you rinse the suds and condition his hair (also, with your conditioner), he curls into your body even more and his wings twitch in satisfaction. you make a mental note to give his wings some TLC after your shower but you settle for massaging the base of his spine where his wings emanate, for now. similarly, keigo’s avian instincts urge him to take care of you; he massages body-wash into whatever skin he can reach while you are still in his embrace and nonsensically murmurs loving sentiments. i got you baby, let’s stay like this, and you’re so soft all tug on your heartstrings and, god, what you wouldn’t do for this man. go give him some love, birdboy deserves it!

SHOUTA AIZAWA ~ ERASER HEAD

this man is extremely stressed and sleep-deprived, so your showers are supposed to make him lethargic and ready to curl up in bed. these showers are in the middle of the night with the lights off; the only source of illumination in your bathroom is from the city lights and moon shining through the windows. the water is nearly on its hottest setting and the steam is fogging up the windows and mirror. there’s a thin layer of sweat on your bodies but you’re both shivering, whether from the cold only body heat can neutralize or in anticipation. shouta is clingy, but not too much. he still has an air of aloofness and mystery, and you don't know what his intentions are tonight. hell, you don’t know what your intentions are. the warm water was supposed to lull him to sleep, not your body. but you can’t complain when he kisses and strokes and bites with so much adoration and lust. you can take a proper shower in the morning; his only concern right now is intertwining with you and wearing you both out until you’re dozed off under covers.

TOUYA TODOROKI ~ DABI

surprisingly, dabi is not touchy at all. the two of you do your own thing in the shower and make a little bit of idle small talk but your backs will be to each other while bathing. other than enjoying quiet time, showering together is so emotionally intimate that dabi is truly at a loss for words. occasionally, you two will turn around and kiss each other and bump noses playfully. there is nice, soothing music in the background, which he always lets you pick because he loves making you happy (even if it’s just the little things). showering with dabi is so peaceful because this is his relaxing time away from the league of villains, hero society, and his fucked up family. it’s just him and his girl vibing. at times, he glances at you with those eyes that scream you’re the most precious thing in the world and that he’d do anything to protect you. his heart bursts even more when you end up making eye contact and smile or tilt your head in confusion. at that point, he needs to feel more of you. the touches start small—when you begrudgingly go under cold water to rinse your hair, dabi will lightly activate his quirk and rub your sides to warm you up. when you’re done showering, he’ll take your towel and pat the moisture off your body and dry your hair. in turn, you’ll gently moisturize his skin. any other time, dabi would've cracked a joke about you wanting to feel him up and being “too clingy” but not right now. he has completely lost himself in your love. there are parts of him that just want to leave this life and take you away to keep you safe. but he knows he’s too far in to walk away. and you’ve accepted that. the only time he feels in control of his circumstances are these quiet, little moments he steals with you.

#laal-ishq entries #pyaas #kai chisaki x reader #overhaul x reader #keigo takami x reader #hawks x reader #shouta aizawa x reader #eraser head x reader #touya todoroki x reader #dabi x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #mha entries

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sarahjkl82-blog · 3 years

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Artistic Instinct Chapter 10

Header thanks to the lovely @yespolkadotkitty

Summary: Marcus Pike and OC Anushka Pierce have been selected to work on a 5 eyes (Australia, Canada, NZ, the UK and US) intelligence team to track down art forgeries as a part of taking down an international white terrorism cell. Marcus is trying to escape his broken heart, Anushka is just trying to escape what the world expects of her.

Word count: 6500

Warnings: Language as always, grief, loss and some second base action.

Pairing: Marcus Pike x reader (OC)

This comes with a MASSIVE THANK YOU to the lovely @yespolkadotkitty , who reads, re-reads, points out the constant flipping between tenses and gave me the confidence to try to write something. This is the first thing I have written since angsty poetry as a teenager. Apologies if it is shit!

May the flowers remind us why the rain was so necessary - Xan Oku

Chapter 10

Your eyes fly open - heart pounding, mouth dry- as the nighttime movie that played behind your eyelids finishes abruptly. Hugging your arms around yourself, you try to steady the impact of that injection of adrenaline into your veins, drawing deep breaths into your lungs as you gaze into the oil slick of darkness surrounding you. The sounds of day are yet to kick into being as your phone screen illuminates 03:02 - the trains not yet pulling out of their sidings, sirens still silenced for the most part. The night air is just punctuated by the rhythmic pitter patter of rain upon the roof and the sweetest little snores still rising steadily from your…

Your boss.

For fucks sake.

Once could be called a mistake, even if it was a twelve year long one. But back doing this shit again? Sheer fucking stupidity. Your head drops into your hands as a stab of pain cuts through your gut. What the fuck do you do now? Marcus so honestly put his heart on a platter for you last night- could you be the cold hearted, callous bitch that throws it back in his face? All of your body fizzes with fear - your muscles twitching with the cortisol so rather than irritate him with your fidgeting, you slide out of his bed.

Bare soles on the night-cooled wooden floors help to ground your flighty soul as you walk around the unfamiliar apartment. Whilst the exterior dampness can only come as far as pretty patterns on the window pane, the chill causes tiny pinprick goosebumps to stand proud against your skin. You finally settle cross-legged on the floor by the French doors leading out to the balcony, watching the raindrops race each other down the glass - mentally cheering on your favourites as they glide towards the inky pools gathering beneath them.

With your mind so lost in your new-found sport, you aren’t entirely aware of the arrival of a warm, breathing blanket that curls itself around your body languidly before you are tightly encircled by long limbs and gentle nuzzling into the side of your neck, “What’s up, honey?”

A small, precious kiss is pressed into your temple before the sleep-thick murmur continues in your ear, “Thought you’d left. So happy to find you here.”

Leaning back into his broad chest, you allow the expanse of his form that is wrapped around you to consume your body whole, “Bad dream. Couldn’t get back to sleep and didn’t want to wake you.”

“‘M sorry,” Marcus slides you slightly to his left so he can search your face for the answers that you are so incredibly reluctant to give, “Your heart is racing - do you want to talk or just have things that will make you feel better?”

Initially, you don’t feel able to catch his gaze, having thought about breaking his heart only minutes prior to his soothing arrival but when you do, everything hits you like a ton of bricks. The deep pillow creases of his cheek, sweetly mussed up hair and the earthy hues of his questioning eyes make your fist fly to cover your eyes as your tears echo the deluge of rain.

He doesn’t speak. Just holds you close. Cradling you in his arms as your body shakes into his. Marcus allows you to sit with your pain awhile - not pressuring you to speak or offering any empty platitudes to solve it- allowing the hurricane of grief to rip through you, all the while tethering you to the ground.

As the tears exhaust themselves, Marcus leaves and your eyes dance in panic at the loss of his soothing touch. The relief of hearing his kettle start to boil and then the gentle roar of taps filling a tub, stretch a ghostly pair of arms back around you, soothing the ache beneath your ribs. A hand reaches down to you offering a way out - gently hoisting you back onto your feet.

“C’mere sweetheart,” Marcus pulls you back into his chest, pressing a line of kisses along your hairline, “I’ve made you a cup of camomile tea and run you a bath.”

He makes to leave you but your haunted eyes and tight grip upon his wrist beg him to stay, “Honey, I don’t want to overstep the mark here. I’m sorry that I asked you to stay. Overwhelming you like this, isn’t fair of me.”

Trying to eloquently respond to him comes out with just a snotty sad gasp so you vehemently shake your head tugging his hand towards the bathroom. Once inside the metro tiled space - pausing between heaving breaths - you manage to squeak out in your juddery voice, “Please stay with me.”

“Please don’t feel guilty - this is just shit I need to work through,” you mumble as you fiddle with the hem of Marcus’ t-shirt, feeling his skin twitch as you accidentally make contact, “I’m sorry that it’s having a knock on effect for you.”

“You have nothing to apologise for,” he leans in to sweetly kiss your forehead, “I’ll turn around while you get in but I promise not to leave.”

“I don’t care if you see me naked - it’s just a body,” you mutter slightly confused by this sentiment when he’d been stroking your breasts earlier. As you start peeling off the t-shirt you’d borrowed from him, Marcus swings to face the bathroom door quickly.

“No,” the sharpness of Marcus’ response steals the air from your lungs momentarily - you stand in front of him like a rabbit caught in headlights, “I’m sorry, sweetheart - didn’t mean to be so forceful. No - it’s not just a body. It is your body and I wanna enjoy it properly when you’re not so upset. It would be taking advantage.”

Slowly lowering yourself into the delicious expanse of Marcus’ bath, you allow the warmth to soak into your aching bones. The water cocoons and hugs every inch of you as you permit it to unknit every knot of tension within your body.

“You can turn around now.”

A kind smile plays upon the deep creases set by Marcus’ eyes, “Tilt your head back.”

Reaching behind you, he turns on the shower attachment - the water bursting forth in a perfect summer rain across the skin of the bath water. Like a parent with a child, he checks the temperature until it reaches a soothing heat and runs it over your hair, soaking every last strand, washing away the mix of salt from anxious sweat and tears. Dropping the shower head in the bath, he then grabs a generous squirt of shampoo in his hands, lathering it into your scalp, massaging until you feel like a gelatinous blob under his skilful touch.

After rinsing every last bubble and sud from your hair, Marcus then squeezes out some conditioner - the bottle releasing the most indecent sound that has you both giggling like small children. Having coated his digits well, he starts to run his fingers through your hair - combing every strand with his hands, ensuring there isn’t a single knot to be found. A gentle finger beneath your chin tells you to tip your head back again as the shower rinses the excess away.

Settling back on the plush bath mat, Marcus passes you your tea silently and you just sit. Sit there in companionable silence - without an ounce of awkwardness- just both sipping tea as your body gradually accepts its need to sleep again.

✪✪✪✪✪

“Give me two minutes and I’ll be ready,” Marcus gazes softly after your disappearing form as you spin into your bedroom to get dressed for work. It takes every bit of gentlemanly restraint that he possesses not to follow you, run his hands over your silken skin and get a hit of your delicious taste. Instead he re-settles his mind by looking around your flat having finally been allowed a peek inside your inner sanctum.

He doesn’t quite know what he expects to see but it certainly isn’t this. It feels an odd mix in there- piles of cushions and blankets but no photos. No pictures decorating the place yet multiple empty frames propped against walls, waiting for their stories to be told. Your home isn’t really a home at all - it is just a roof over your head with nests for you to curl into exhaustedly.

“Have you been here long?” he asks quizzically, spying the battered moving boxes that have obviously been rummaged through for a missing necessary nick-nack or two but never having been fully unpacked. Marcus runs his hand over the coarse, corrugated cardboard and light spattering of dust coating them, wondering what secrets you wish to keep hidden in there and if you will ever open fully to him, to allow him to lighten your load.

“Almost two years,” he hears you muffledly answer through the jumper you pull over your head as you momentarily reappear in the doorway of your bedroom - a vision of radiantly soft curves- just knickers and a mess of limbs arguing with the item of clothing, before your breasts get hidden under the striped knitwear.

As much as Marcus tries to stop himself, his body takes the required steps forward so that his fingers can be satiated with the warmth of your skin. He doesn’t kiss you yet - the heat of his breath just dusts the shell of your ear as he inhales the scent of his shampoo in your hair.

“Look at you,” he murmurs - shaking his head in disbelief as he grabs your wrists and pulls you into him, “Beautiful.”

Using the back of his hand to release the hair caught in the collar of your jumper, Marcus takes a moment to drink in all your features. The flecks of gold in your eyes, the sharpness of your cheekbones, the streaks of wisdom in your hair - how were you, the beauty that you are, interested in him?

And then you’re kissing him. Your mouth open, soft lips inviting him into your inner sanctum. He feels your fingertips stroking into the nape of his neck, your nails scratching into the hair that twists and curls there. Shivers of pleasure run down Marcus’ spine, making him pull you closer as your touch sparks life across his body. Your gentle push causes Marcus to startle - to stumble backwards, falling back onto the sofa, sending cushions scuttling across the floor.

Feeling his jaw tic as you clamber into a kneeling position above him, Marcus tries to steady his breath by focussing on the small details of you. The darker spots of pigmentation where the sun has permanently kissed your skin. The divots of your collarbones just peeking above your sweater. The small reminder of a childhood misadventure just above your right eyebrow.

Nope. This is not working. God, I want her.

“Lower those goddamn hips,” he growls, “Sit down.”

“I can’t,” he hears you whimper, eyes shut tight, “I’ll make a mess of your trousers.”

Marcus groans as he considers the sweetness that is encased by those bright pink, lace edged panties - still not quite believing that it is him who has had this effect on you. When you grab his hands that have been stroking little circles by your knees and pull them to your ass, the heat in him rises as he squeezes and needles the delicious flesh beneath.

“This is gonna be hard having you work so close,” as soon as he hears the words leave his mouth, he regrets it. The little twitch between your eyebrows. The tremble of your bottom lip. The slight shift back of your weight upon his lap. Marcus catches them all.

“I’m sorry. Nush, I shouldn’t have…”

As your weight rocks back away from him, leaving his body quickly cooling with your absence, the air is punctuated with your muttering of one word over and over. Each utterance a bullet coated in guilt hitting him sharply.

“Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.”

Scrunching his eyes tight shut, he rocks forward, head in hands. Should he come after you? Should he leave? Fuck, Pike.

Hearing the creak of your bedroom door, Marcus lifts his head in your direction - his eyes throwing a million apologies to you, “Nush, I’m so sorry - I didn’t mean to upset you. That’s the last thing that I’d ever want to do.”

He watches as you walk across the floor - smaller shuffling steps rather than your usual confident stomp, your eyes red-rimmed and glassy and your breathing a little jagged - and feels like he’s just crushed a butterfly in his hands when all he was trying to do was appreciate its beauty. Water starts to pool in the corners of his eyes as he blinks hard to warn them off - after all, he didn’t need to give you any other reason to walk away from him. A small grateful smile creeps across his face when you settle between his knees, resting your arms across his lap - your tear-streaked face looking up at him.

“I’m frightened,” he hears you whisper, “Repeating past mistakes is sheer fucking stupidity.”

Marcus freezes, the blood in his veins turning to ice as he awaits your verdict.

“I can’t do that again. You cannot become another Jasper to me. The relationship that never was with all the hiding.”

“I don’t want us to hide,” he hears his voice betraying him as fear courses through his synapses, his hands aching to touch you. Hold you.

Please don’t let me lose her.

Please don’t let this be it.

“Can I touch you?” Marcus quietly, carefully checks before daring to reach out. He watches as a cloud of confusion washes across your face at his request.

“Of course you can. What? Hang on, did you think,” you pause, brow furrowed, “Did you think I want to stop whatever this turns out to be?”

With his shoulders slightly hunched, one hand reaching behind to rub the base of his neck, Marcus nods, “Yeah, a bit. I…”

“I don’t wanna fuck this up, Nush,” he reaches forward to stroke your wrist.

“Me neither, but we will,” your words take a moment to register with him, “We have both experienced so much - good and bad - that we will put our proverbial foot in it with each other.

“But, I hope that in time, with our collective pasts and the streaks of grey in our hair, we may also slowly learn how to communicate and say when things are a bit shit for us and why. Why my instinct is to run screaming from things and why you think everyone you love is going to leave.”

Marcus curls forward so he can rest his forehead against yours before placing a small kiss there, “Now you’re really gonna have to be two minutes if we’re gonna get to work on time. I’m just gonna shut my eyes until you’re dressed so I’m not tempted to make us late.”

“You think that’ll work?”

Chuckling at the wink you throw at him over your shoulder, Marcus starts to allow that tiny ray of hope he’s been burying for years to shine again.

✪✪✪✪✪

As Marcus opens the door for you, an overwhelming wave assaults your senses. Noises from tapping keyboards, phones ringing and computers blaring, the overwhelming scents of fatty, sugary yet discarded breakfasts and coffee hits hard but it’s the tiny, surreptitious stroke at the base of your spine gives you the kick you need to go in and start your day. A steaming coffee is thrust towards Marcus behind you and some case files are handed to you by a smiling Andy, “Morning Sir, morning Nush. What time did you manage to get cleared up?”

“Between the two of us, it didn’t take too long,” you grin at the PA before looking over your shoulder to find Marcus smiling at you, “Think I was asleep by eleven.”

“Snoring away,” Marcus barely audibly whispers, making your eyes widen.

“Ready for the meeting at nine o’clock, Sir? I have everything set up in the conference room, ready to go…” Andy sweeps Marcus away from you as you head over to your desk, spying the hot cup of Java awaiting your arrival.

New piles of paperwork seem to litter your desk, replacing the ones you’d tried so hard to clear on Friday afternoon. Office life. That it is a life is a bit of a lie, as every soul within your office space looks like it is in some stage of decomposition. Kiri appears to be in need of another weekend to get over the two days of rest just gone, Dian is yawning into her coffee and as for Harper, well, there’s a part of you that doesn’t quite believe she’s fully human with the way she’s already ploughing through her work.

When 9am finally rolls around, it feels more like two in the afternoon. Marcus sticks his head out of the door to call everyone into the meeting and is met by several groans from the team as they reluctantly shake themselves from their chairs and drag their Monday fatigued bones towards the conference room. At the oval, walnut table, you sit sandwiched between Dian and Kiri, directly opposite Andy in a hopefully not too obvious ploy to not be too close to Marcus.

“Good morning everyone, I’d ask you if you’d all had a good weekend but I think we spent enough time together to know that we all did,” a chuckle rises from your office mates as Marcus welcomes everyone, “I wanted to have a catch up this morning as the Soutine that Agent Pierce and I checked in Lyon, has come back as a definite fake. The verdict was reached late Friday afternoon and the French authorities are currently trying to trace its origins.

“We also received word this morning that a Modigliani has turned up in Sotheby’s - they have their own art fraud team but hopefully we will get a look in soon. Agent Pierce, I know I haven’t asked you to prep but could you explain to the team what the issues are around his work?”

“Sotheby’s?” you question, staring straight at Marcus and entirely ignoring his request, “I can get in there now as my best mate works in the fraud team.”

“Hephzibah?” Andy catches your eye, “Didn’t realise she’d transferred over from Scotland Yard.”

“More money,” you shrug as Andy presses his lips together and nods in agreement.

“No, Agent Pierce, I’d like us to hang back for now,” Marcus responds, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair, “If you could give us some of your insight about Modigliani’s pieces, please?”

Slightly taken aback by Marcus’ firmness, you take a moment before responding, “Modigliani’s back catalogue is a fucking mess as he used to give out sketches like a fortune teller.

“Jean Cocteau said that he was drawn by Modigliani roughly fifty times but he only ever owned one picture. Prices have skyrocketed over the past decade with one going for $170.4 million dollars so he’s very much a member of the $100 million club along with Warhol, Picasso et al but not quite at their ethereal prices.

“One of the main things about Modigliani is that the love of the man is not easily separated from his art. Over the years, he has been painted as somewhat Byronesque in his exploits by salacious biographies and films - very much sex and drugs and rock n roll. A bohemian who lived in Montparnasse and Montmartre at the Fin de Siecle - he was known by all the artists who lived there at the time - Picasso even said he was the only man in Paris who knew how to dress.

“To be honest, whilst he was hot - soulful dark eyes, ebony, wavy hair and a beautiful bone structure with an extraordinary amount of intelligence and eloquence-”

“Ah, so you have a type?” Harper mutters into her notes.

Your cheeks flush and eyes dart around the room, hoping that Marcus didn’t hear that as you desperately try to summon a consummate professional performance for the others, “-It is hugely difficult to separate the man from the myth but the main issue due to his profligacy with his art, unlike the other greats who get over $100 million for their work, Modigliani’s work is often questioned. You could easily find a Modigliani in an attic with a letter attached from the man himself and people would still raise an eyebrow at it.

“So, um, the main thing according to all the auction houses is that unless it is in the catalogue curated by Ceroni, it ain’t a Modigliani. This is problematic in itself as that was published in 1958 and even some of the pieces on his list are questionable. People have ended up in prison over their dubious dealings with Modigliani’s back catalogue as you can see in the case of Parisot.

“So if a piece comes to auction that isn’t on the list, they’re damned if it is a Modigliani, and damned if it isn’t?” Dian questions you.

“Pretty much. And he worked at a time when a lot of advances and changes happened in artist’s products. In the first half of the twentieth century, both the production of paint and paper changed massively as everything was slowly more industrialised and made more stable. By industrialising these things, it made the equipment cheaper quicker as more could use it rather than being made Etsy-style in tiny batches that were way beyond the means of most artists.

“Normally, with older pieces we can look at how the artists use paints and the type of paints they use but with more modern artists everything becomes a bit murkier as it is harder to date. And I will stop there before I piss off Harper by rabbiting on too much more.”

Even Harper has the decency to smirk at your comment before returning to her notes. Marcus’s gaze has softened again as you finish speaking, “ Thanks, Agent Pierce. Perhaps we could hear from you now Agent Gleason and Youngerson?”

Harper raises her eyebrows in Marcus’ direction before starting, “So, Agent Youngerson and I have been looking at various right wing groups currently active across the world and what their links are to the art world. The main ones who have thrown up scents for us to chase are The Old School Society, Hydra and The Order.”

Dian looks up from her pad of extensive notes, “Yeah, we've been tracing money routes with those three and when looking at the main donors to these groups, they’ve all had dealings with art galleries and auction houses recently. So we’re now looking into each donor carefully and may need to do some in the field meetings with them as prospective buyers - so my darling work wife, Nush, we may need notes unless you fancy being our cover girl?” she comically winks at you. Making a little heart with your index finger and thumb, you send an equally cheesy wink and click of the tongue back at her.

Marcus huffs a chuckle out at the two of you before turning his attention to Kiritopa, “How have you been getting on with your catalogue of fakes relating to this case?”

“Yeah, alright - slow going collecting all the data as it seems some auction houses are reluctant to reveal how many fakes pass through their doors,” Kiri frowns before glugging some more coffee.

“It’s understandable, they don’t want their reputations dashed. Doesn’t make our work any easier though. Agent Morrison - if you can show me what you’ve compiled so far that’d be great,” Marcus gives the agent a small, sincere smile before turning to address the room again, “Right, I have a meeting this afternoon that’ll keep me out of the office for the rest of the day so I’ll leave you all to get on. Have a great day everyone.”

✪✪✪✪✪

You:

Hey sexy lady, I hear you’ve got a tasty little number at S’s - can I take a look?

Hephzi:

Off the books? Course you can. Change into civvies and I’ll get you in this afternoon.

You:

You’re a fucking ⭐️. I’ll make it worth your while

Hephzi:

Do you mean cake and coffee? Because if you do, I’m fucking yours.

You:

Urm obviously! See you around two?

A small knock on your desk makes you put down your phone and you look up into Marcus’ face, “Hey, you got a minute?”

“Yes, Sir,” as you push your chair away from your desk, you throw your mobile in your desk drawer and follow him into his office.

His desk is immaculately tidy and warm to the touch with its honey and caramel tones washing back and forth in undulating waves as if across a beach. There’s not a hint of Marcus in his office yet - no personal treasures - it stands in stark contrast to the warmth of the man you’re getting to know.

“I just wanted to check you were ok. I heard what Harper said,” he reaches out to straighten the ribbing at the bottom of your jumper, his thumb stroking your tummy lightly.

“She’s not wrong,” you grin lopsidedly at him as you step in closer, placing your hands on either side of his face, “Dark soulful eyes, beautifully high cheekbones, delightfully luscious lips that are perfect for kissing - hard not to fancy Modigliani, really.”

“You’re mean,” Marcus squeezes your hip as he shakes his head, “When would you like to speak to the others? I think being up front with them will help us in the long run.”

You sit on the edge of his desk, leaning back slightly, your face illuminated by your smile, “Maybe we can have our first date and then think about the long run?”

When you see the flinch from Marcus, a pang of guilt echoes through your gut as you recall your earlier conversation, “I think you’re right- once we’re truly confident we know where this is headed, we should speak up. I am not going to lose my job or risk my reputation for you… but I also already know that I don’t want to lose you either.”

“Me neither,” his hand reaches out for you, fingers entangling, thumbs stroking - eyes crinkling as they meet yours, “What are you doing for lunch?”

“Well, I was a bit distracted when I got dressed this morning - there was this really hot guy in my flat…”

“Uh huh, tell me about him,” Marcus slowly drawls, looking down at you amusedly.

“Oh you don’t want to know, Sir. Wouldn’t let me get dressed. Just kept groping me.”

“How... inappropriate of him.”

“Yeah - so I was almost late to work because of him wanting his wicked way with me and accidentally ended up putting on two different shoes.” Marcus steps away from you and having looked down, notices the one extremely dark navy and one black ballet pump with a gently shaking chest as he tries to swallow his chuckle.

“Going home to change? Your mind really must have been elsewhere,” you nod at him -slightly embarrassed by your initial genuine mistake that has now become a cover story. His gaze intensifies as he cups your face, his eyes focussing on your lips, “I’m sorry honey, I don’t think I’ll have time to drop you there and back before my meeting - will you be ok?”

“Of course, Marcus - I’ve worked here for years,” you tease him, feeling awkward as fuck when the half truth you are spinning for your boss feels awkward and bitter in your mouth.

But his kiss doesn’t. Marcus quickly closes the gap between the two of you, leaning towards you - his head tilted, lips soft and welcoming with their desire for you utterly apparent. Deepening the kiss, his mouth gently opening, tongue searching as his hands drop from your face to your waist, you find yourself forgetting to worry that anyone could walk in. Forgetting the regret of lying to him. What had you even been talking about? Should you be doing this? Fuck it. You pull him the final distance so that no air could pass between you - just you and Marcus refusing to pause for breath until your lungs run out of air.

Pulling back to gaze at him with lust blown pupils, wanting him so much more, you eventually find the energy to push away from him. Swiping at your lips with your thumb in case anyone spots the remnants of this moment as you walk towards the door on brand new baby deer legs.

“Hey Nush,” you swing back to look at Marcus, still standing, equally dumbstruck as you, before he winks with a cheeky grin, “Nice shoes.”

✪✪✪✪✪

Gripping the cardboard carrier that holds two steaming cups of black coffee in your left hand, you ring the bell to the magnificent Bloomsbury building that has sold multiple pieces of multi-million pound art. The Georgian façade is impressive in its structure and beautifully kept without a sign of peeling paint, decrying its almost 250 year history - a far cry from the shatterproof glass and steel at HQ. Hephzi opens the door to you with a wide grin upon her face, “Bang on time, missus - I swear the only way to get you places quickly, is with the promise of fine art to get you salivating!”

You can’t really respond eloquently to her as you are absorbed into the cool of the elegant building. Whilst kept modern and minimalistic, the space has retained some of its more charming period features - the cornicing and ceiling roses are still firmly in place despite the stark white of the walls. Oh, the pieces that have passed through this space! The very thought makes you tingle all over through excitement.

Currently bedecking the walls are a collection of women artists about to go up for auction the next day. To you, there was no true money in those frames - just a conversation between you, the spectator and the artist about their emotions in picture form. A discussion that spanned centuries as you follow Hephzi’s soft footsteps through the gallery, enjoying every single one from a still life of flowers surrounded by butterflies and other insects by Rachel Ruysch to one of the copies of Blinding by Tracy Emin - the upside down nude female form shaped in neon pink tubes. The artists speak through ages, through the art upon the wall, in the language of your soul.

Marcus would love it here. Oh to bring him and enjoy it together, walking through the space, hand in hand. My head on his shoulder...

“...Hello? Earth to Nushka? Ah, welcome back,” Hephzibah is shaking her head at you, “You’re here on work experience if anyone asks, yes?”

“Yup,” still only half listening to your friend, you begrudgingly continue on to her workspace in the fraud and forgeries department, reluctantly walking away from the art you long to submerge yourself in.

“Right, hand over the coffee and cake- I take payment in advance, Madam,” Hephzi demands, hand outstretched, “So tell me about the new job. What’s your new boss like?”

“Marcus is nice,” you quietly offer into the rim of your coffee.

“First names already?” Hephzibah’s eyes are round with surprise, “And you mention him before the job… Who even are you? What have you done with the real Nush? Oh! Oh Nush, do you like him?”

You stand there blinking hard, feeling an absolute idiot for being so awkward in front of the person you call your best friend. A small, barely perceivable nod through the steam of your coffee has the arms of your best friend wrapped around you, “Nush, tell me more - has anything happened? Do you think he feels the same way?”

“I think so. Made a curry last night for the team at his flat, and ended up staying the night - nothing happ.. Well, we didn’t have sex but I think he likes me,” you nervously chatter at her before drawing a deep breath, “He’s pretty fucking amazing. Seems to be genuinely a nice guy - just straight talking, gentle, kind and holy shit is he good looking! His kisses and touches just turn me into fucking jelly.”

“Better than Jas?”

Your heart thuds in your chest so hard that there is a point where you fully expect it to wrench open your rib cage and run across the floor. You stare wide-eyed, your mouth open

“What?”

Hephzi steps forward, her gaze gentle as she places her hand on your arm, “You weren’t quite as good at hiding it as you thought you were. It was pretty obvious you were together and loved each other very dearly - I just knew that if I ever brought it up that you would run a mile.

“I tried telling you that I knew before. It was after he died and I wanted you to know that I knew it wasn’t just the death of a co-worker. Not that there’s ever any just in those situations for us either but I knew. When I asked about meeting someone the other day, it was more of me just trying to figure out if you were ready to date again.”

With that, the floodgates open and the grief flows you like a river, eroding your defences away. Hephzi holds you as you utterly soak through her expensive blouse, “I wanted to tell you so many times but I was terrified of what you’d think of me.”

“What I’d think of you - are you fucking kidding me, you absolute idiot?” she tucks your tear drenched hair behind your ears, “I’ve held your hair back in pub toilets as you’ve thrown up from too much alcohol and gotten you out of so many other scrapes but that, a relationship with a man from work is what you think I’d judge you for? Nah, that's not how any of this works, mate. Firstly, you can’t help who you fall in love with and secondly, where else are you ever going to meet someone when all you do is work?”

“N...N...Need a tissue. You made me get all snotty,” you tearfully stammer, all blotchy-face and tear streaked.

Hephzi can’t help but laugh at you blaming her for your tears. As she grabs a tissue, she also grabs the cake and the serviettes from the bag, “Come on, I know what’ll cheer you up - cake and a masterpiece.”

Following her into the studio beside her office, there it is. A supposedly lost version of Modigliani’s Nu Couché sur le Côté Gauche - her sheer sensuality rolling off her in waves. The way that she gazes out of the piece beguilingly, inviting you to join her on the bed, the sheets ruffled and rolling beneath her delicious curves.

Hephzi laughs at your reaction to the piece, “She’s hot isn’t she?”

“Yep - I’d definitely do her. I’d like to say that it is her almond eyes enticing me but really, it’s that entirely biteable bum,” you say before biting into the pastel de nata.

“Agreed - although for me, it’s her back and her thighs. They are edible - as you rightly say,” she says into her coffee.

“How’s the provenance?”

Hepzhi pulls a face as she turns back to you, “Traceable, but this one isn’t in Ceroni.”

“Shit.”

“My thoughts entirely. Look, love, I can’t let you touch it but feel free to take photos, measurements etc. As soon as my own tests come back, I promise you’ll know before the guys upstairs do,” Hephzibah asserts before sitting back on the desk in the room, “Just remember, you’re here on work experience.”

You throw a thank you over your shoulder at the rapidly retreating figure of Hepzi as you set to work. Using a Canon with a macro lens, you instantly photograph the major features and then take several overlapping pictures so that you can look close up on your computer at work. Whilst not quite a microscope, it would have to do given the circumstances. You trusted Hephzi’s sample taking but it was good to see it in person, even if Marcus had asked you to hold fire.

Whilst you were taking measurements of various points and aspects of the picture, you realised there were multiple footsteps coming up the corridor. Hephzi, obviously heard them gaining on the studio too and rejoined you, to back the story of work experience rather than letting her old friend backstage for some covert readings. She threw her notebook at you with a pencil to have the pretence of you taking notes as she worked.

“Well, Hephzibah, that is the first time I’ve ever seen you entrust your beloved notebook with anyone other than yourself. You have never even shown me the secrets you record there, and I am the person paying your salary,” a truly plummy voice cut through the room, “Whoever this work experience girl is, we will have to see about hiring her if you trust her this much.”

Hephzibah plasters a smile onto her features, “Sir, she is the best I’ve ever had the pleasure to meet. Such a keen eye.”

Refusing to turn around, you carry on making notes in Hephzi’s journal, attempting to concentrate on the words written in front of you, instead of the intrusion.

“So what d’ya think? On first impressions, is it real?”

Shit.

That voice.

Stepping up in response, Hephzibah firmly states, “Sir, I am terribly sorry but I am not currently at liberty to be able to fully disclose that info…”

“Oh no, it is quite alright, Hephzibah - this gentleman is Marcus Pike. He is currently fronting an investigation into white terrorism and art forgeries with 5 Eyes. One of your old lot, you know,” Hephzibah’s boss winks as if he was letting her in on the national secrecy act.

“Marcus Pike?” Hephzi shoots you a surreptitious look before the smile is back, “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Sir. Shame we haven’t crossed paths before now.”

Marcus offers his hand in greeting to Hephzibah, “I hope we can put that right in the future. I was wondering if we could hear from your work experience person. I am always open to fresh eyes.”

Dread courses through your veins as you turn towards Marcus, not wanting to look him in the face, “It would be remiss of me to make a declaration without reading through and tracking back the provenance as well as undertaking the necessary infrared and paint samples.”

“Sensible,” Marcus nods, his face not betraying a single emotion.

Your face creases at his lack of response, something that Hephzi’s boss picks up on, “Are you alright, dear? You don’t look terribly well.”

“Sudden headache, sir. I should probably get going for today anyway,” you virtually throw Hephzi’s notebook at her before grabbing your bag, “Thank you for today, I will be in touch, Hephzibah.”

Running out of the building as fast as your feet and lungs can carry you, you feel your phone buzz in your pocket.

Sir Agent Marcus Pike:

Hey,

We need to talk. My office at 5?

You:

...

Tag list of glory (as ever, please ask to be put on or dropped from the list): @astroboots @silverwolf319 @sirowsky @leonieb @disgruntledspacedad @bison-writes @the-ginger-hedge-witch @danniburgh @day-off-inkyoto @green-socks @tardisfangurl @absurdthirst @mrsparknuts @zukoyonce @yespolkadotkitty @lunaserenade @theravenreads @honestly-shite @sharkbait77 @lawfulgranola @agirllovespancakes @theravenreads @lv7867 @ezrasbirdie @songsformonkeys

#pedro pascal #josé pedro balmaceda pascal #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #ppascaledit #pedro pascal smut #marcus pike #marcus pike x reader #the mentalist fanfic #the mentalist #marcus pike x oc #marcus pike x oc reader #marcus pike x fem!reader

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themonotonysyndrome · 3 years

Text

REDACTED verse - Another day in Dahlia

Summary: When worlds collide, Aaron and Smartass has the ‘old, married couple’ moment when a wolf is loose in a hypermarket.

Dahlia is lively today, the afternoon sunlight dazzling upon the city. Familiar faces, familiar sights and familiar roads are everywhere.

And yet, the man who couldn’t stop bickering with his lover since the two of them stepped out of IKEA is a changing man living in this familiar city.

Aaron likes to think that he retains his best qualities despite the passing of time. Firm, true and level-headed - traits that have served him well both in his personal and work life. Traits that have earned him recognition, achievements and praises. However, against a fiery soul housed within an infuriating yet gorgeous body, Aaron has never felt so breathless and helpless.

And most importantly, lovestruck.

Unstable and uncharacteristically hesitant, the pieces of himself that are held together with patience have been pulled apart by its seams. But they weren’t destroyed; no, they rearrange themselves into an amazing new form. Aaron isn’t quite yet certain what that new form brings, but already, he could feel himself grow into a man that wholly compliments his lover.

Like a planet revolving around a beautiful, bright star. He can’t help but be drawn by the star’s gravity.

There’s balance between them, despite their strong-willed personalities. They sooth the other when one burns too brightly, they offer guidance when the other is unsure. Balanced and happy, that’s what they are.

There’s never emptiness when silence envelops them. Isn’t there a saying that whenever you’re with your loved one, silence is never oppressive?

Although, to be fair, silence doesn’t last long whenever they’re together. Not when there’s always something to bicker, something to discuss and something to tease about.

Case in point, the ugly as fuck lamp that Aaron fought tooth and nail to convince his partner not to buy.

“Look, it’s not even your money; I was going to use mine for it!”

“It’s not about the money, Smartass.” Aaron replies back with a roll of his eyes. They’re at the parking lot getting ready to head off to the hypermarket next. The two of them had spent four hours of furniture shopping at IKEA after his Smartass made an offhand comment last week about his couch being way too old and lumpy for gaming nights and movie marathons.

But before either of them realise it, what was supposed to be a simple couch purchase turned into perusal of dining tables, desks and floor lamps. Aaron got them back on track when you excitedly pulled him towards that last part.

Aaron had never before questioned your taste in furniture before but at that point, he starts to draw the line at a red, human shaped floor lamp. It bows slightly with the most creepy smile he had ever seen on a statue before.

“I just don’t want to have a heart attack everytime I wake up, alright? You wanted it in our bedroom, beside our bed and it’s creepy beyond all reason.”

“It’s functional though.”

“So were the other floor lamps.” Aaron easily pointed out. He opened the car door and waited, unamused, for you to get in. Unfortunately, judging by how your arms folded across your chest in a stubborn pose, his spitfire didn’t want to drop their conversation.

“What if I put it in the living room?” You suggest instead, the familiar defiant spark made itself known.

Aaron held himself back from groaning in despair. Why are you so hung up about that lamp!? “I don’t think it’ll fit with the… aesthetic of our house, OK?” He tried the tactical approach first, knowing that a straight up no would not pacify his partner at all. “How about this; we’ll go with your couch and desk and my preference for the dining table. There. Is that good enough for you, Your Highness?”

You purse your lips, but the both of you know that you’re not so hung up about the floor lamp to drag this argument any further. Aaron wisely chooses not to comment how your lips slowly curve into a smile.

“Fine. I’ll let you win this round - ”

“Oh my god - ”

“But in return, I’ll be taking over for lunch later.”

Aaron immediately shut his mouth, surprise and secretly a little giddy that his Smartass had taken the initiative of making a meal for them. That lasted for about a split second before something dawn onto him.

“You want free reign at the hypermarket later, right?”

This time, you beam happily but say nothing as you finally slip inside of the Mercedes. And as usual, silence spoke louder than words. Aaron exhales loudly, not knowing whether to laugh or mutter a curse. Trust in his lover to have the final say, ultimately.

But that’s one of the many reasons why he fell so hopelessly in love with you.

The hypermarket is busy for a Saturday. Smartass pointed at the sales and promotions board display in big letters and numbers when the two of you entered the building, hand in hand. Ah, that makes sense. Children run about clutching snacks in their little hands to convince their exasperated parents into buying, worned out staff restock empty shelves and the scent of fresh produce and floor detergents clings in the air. A familiar sight.

“How do you feel about crabs?” Smartass begins the conversation. Aaron doesn’t understand why you bother asking him when you’re already dragging him towards the cold, seafood area. Aisles of fresh fish of all kinds are clearly displayed for visitors, the more expensive kind are packaged and a few men are working behind the butcher service counter.

“I can go for some crabs. It’s been a while anyway.” Aaron answered, grabbing a nearby stack of baskets for their grocery. He tried to recall the last time they had any seafood and his mind helpfully supplied a restaurant where they went to for dinner in March.

He lets you gather your thoughts as you stare at the frozen crabs critically as if they were spreadsheets. “I’m thinking of rice with a side of buttery crab meats, Salmon sashimi, Shiitake soup and lotus root salad. Sounds good?”

As soon as he invited his Smartass to permanently move in with him, you had totally taken over the kitchen. Apparently you weren’t terribly amused when he admitted that he’s not much of a cook but hey, he never once complained when you served the best homemade vegan burgers with a glare and a silent, “Go ahead. I dare you to say that they taste like shit. Make my day, Aaron.”

So instead, after he cleaned their dishes, Aaron proceeded to throw his lover on their bed to thoroughly thank you for the meal.

Four hours later, the flushed and surprised expression on your face was so worth it.

But we’re getting off tangents here.

“Sounds absolutely delicious.” Aaron replied and startled his Smartass with a sudden kiss on your cheek. “Now stop glaring at the crabs and pick some already. We have half of the ingredients back home and I’d rather not spend the rest of our remaining Saturday in the hypermarket. So let’s get to it.”

Smartass hum in agreement and grab your own basket. Together, they made quick work of what they needed to buy. Not just for lunch, but for the upcoming weeks too. Crabs, Salmons, some meat and later pea sprouts, red cabbages and lotus root - the both of them are more inclined to healthy meals rather than take outs and it really helps that Smartass suggest preparing ingredients that they could cook for the rest of the week, given their busy work lives. Vegetable dishes are flexible and easy enough to cook into anything anyway.

They moved on from the frozen, seafood aisles and the produce section to where the personal care products are. Aaron holds up his phone in between them so Smartass could check what’s next on the list.

“Oh shit. I totally forgot that my shampoo and conditioners just ran out.” Smartass blurted. “Thanks for adding that into our grocery list.”

Aaron scoffs. “You mentioned it twice during dinner last night - in between debating whether or not Game of Thrones is better than Lord of the Rings, mind you - so I can understand why you forgot” Colourful rows of shampoo bottles greeted them when they walk past a couple who’s pushing their trolley carts away from the shelves. He grabs your favourite brand and places them in his basket. “You’re brilliant, Smartass, but I can’t help pity that poor hamster living in your brain for having to run in its ball all day long.”

You gasp, affronted, while Aaron laughs at the look on your face. Even smacking his arm did nothing to stop his laughter. “You’re too easy to rile up sometimes, you know that Smartass?” He smirks and grabs a toothpaste next. They’re running low on that too. In retaliation for his remark, Smartass sneakily pulled that toothpaste out when Aaron was checking his phone and chose the one with the strawberry flavour instead.

When Aaron shot you an inquisitive look, you just smiled innocently and quickly distracted him by insisting that they need to get some snacks.

“That reminds me, it’s not on the list but we have to buy ramune soda. Oh, and some potato chips too.” You pointed out as the two of you rounded away from a large family who stopped in between the body wash shelves and hair serums. “Have you noticed that we go through ramune sodas like crazy lately?”

The snacks and beverage section is one of the highlights of this hypermarket, in Aaron’s humble opinion. Not only do they have an abundance of the local goods, they also have a wide selection of some really good imported snacks or as Aaon like to call it, your ultimate weakness.

“Yeah but be honest, are you really going to stop your addiction anytime soon?”

“What is this? Bully me day?”

“Hey, you’re the one who said it, not me, Smartass.” Aaron is quick to quip back and this time, you roll your eyes. Even if it’s true, it doesn’t mean that you have to like it.

But that’s Aaron - his words always serve a meaning and come straight from the heart when it’s for the things that truly matter. It’s annoying and yet, it’s one of his best qualities.

However, just as you were about to rebuke him, the two of you heard a passing conversation nearby the soda shelves.

“ - not going to play bartender at home again, Angel. Why not? Alright then; let me jog your memory, hmm? The last time I left you alone in the kitchen for more than 3 hours, you came out carrying a tray with the embodiment of everything unholy on this planet separated into three shot glasses.”

“It was just ramune soda mixed with rose syrup, grass jelly and vinegar!”

“Asher had a stomach ache for a week, Angel.”

“But Davey, how do you expect me to get better at it if you don’t let me practice? See? There’s a flaw in your plan!”

“I’d rather we go to a bar the next time you’re in the mood to poison the both of us.”

You didn’t mean to eavesdrop on their conversation but you couldn’t help snicker at the stranger’s very much put out and deadpan tone. It gives an implication that this isn’t the first time this ‘Angel’ did something as crazy as mix sodas with vinegar. Hell, even the man’s comment earned a soft chuckle from Aaron.

“Sounds like he got quite a handful lover over there. Remind you of someone?” Aaron whispered. They couldn’t properly see the couple due to a stack of Dorito boxes in between them but you could spot a tall man wearing a pretty nice looking leather jacket and his partner beside him.

“If you’re implying that I’m unreasonably difficult - ”

“No, no. Just… hmm, passionately stubborn, I suppose.” Aaron nonchalantly replies with a smirk. He guffaws when you poke at his sides and spin around to the rows of ramune with a dramatic huff. Aaron easily follows suit with a fond smile.

This section of the aisle is quiet unlike the previous ones that’ve been, Aaron noticed. The humming of the air conditioner above them and the crinkling of a plastic bag of chips in Smartass’ hand were the only sounds that broke the comfortable silence. Even the murmurs from the other couple melts into background noises the further Aaron and his walk away.

That is, until a hair-raising snarl shattered the quietness.

What’s worse, it sounded like a wolf.

Aaron reacted instinctively. He opted for the defense - grabbing his Smartass’ free hand, pulling you close to him. His searching eyes are frantic while his mind is trying to make sense that a wolf is somehow in this hypermarket. Full of people. What the fuck!?

Smartass, however, opted for the offense. You grab the nearest glass bottle by the neck and were about to smash it against the metal shelf if it weren’t for Aaron’s quick thinking. He immediately grabs your wrist and shoots you an incredulous look. Silently judging your choices in life.

‘You have a better idea on how to deal with a fucking wolf!?’ Smartass demanded in silence. Your expression is bewildered; as if you couldn’t believe that Aaron wouldn’t let you shank an unknown threat just around the corner.

In return, Aaron pulls you closer to his body and glares out, ‘I’m not letting you throw yourself in front of a wolf!’

‘I’m protecting us!’ Smartass countered back, glaring just as heatedly.

A sweet giggle suddenly interrupted their mental argument. Their hearts skip a beat in fear at the unknown.

“Ok, ok. How about this, Davey: I'll let you dress me up when we go to the bar tomorrow. How’s that? Does that make my Wolf not jealous anymore?” The same voice they accidentally eavesdropped previously bargained in a teasing tone.

Smartass and Aaron exchange a bewildered and confused glance. What the fuck did they just said? My Wolf? Was the realistic animal snarl came from the boyfriend!? He must’ve some serious vocal cords and throat to be able to make that sound!

Aaron exhales loudly while Smartass allows him to grab the glass bottle that you were still holding to put it back on the shelf.

“I think I just lost five years of my life.” Aaron complains.

Smartass said nothing. Without even saying anything, you march to where the couple are. Aaron curses under his breath and quickly chases after you.

The man in the black leather jacket and his partner glanced at his Smartass when you approached them with a practised smile. One that Aaron knew meant trouble. How could he not when he’s the receiving end of that smile more than he could count.

When Smartass wants answers, you’ll do everything in your power to get it and Aaron is really not looking forward to wrangling his partner from starting a brawl in the middle of a damn hypermarket.

“Hi there.” His Smartass began, your body language deceptively open and friendly. “Are you two alright?”

“Eh?” The one standing beside the tall, frowning man replies with a blink. Upon closer inspection, Aaron realises that he and what looks to be the leader of a local gang are similar in built.

“Can we help you?” The gang leader interjects. He’s frowning but he doesn’t appear angry. Just confused like his partner. Though he nodded in greeting when Aaron slid up beside Smartass.

“Didn’t you hear that noise just now?” Smartass plays shock. “It sounded like someone released a wolf in the hypermarket!”

The man in the leather jacket suddenly looked like he just sucked a lemon; his eyes are comically wide. Meanwhile, his partner’s eyes are equally as wide. Aaron detects a hint of realisation glint in their eyes. Now isn’t that interesting?

Well, Smartass thought so too. You pressed on. “You heard it too right? Damn near give me a heart attack! I wonder if the nearby staff also heard it - ”

“It’s probably the ventilation system or something.” The gang leader quickly replied, his expression oddly shifted to neutral. Beside him, his partner opens their mouth to say something but he quickly presses his palm over it. They throw a pointed look at him but he resolutely ignores it. “Anyway, good luck with your grocery shopping.”

Aaron watches him grab his partner by the hand and gently drag them away. It was only when they’re out of sight that they started furiously chatting.

“Wow, Davey, your slip up was even worse than Asher’s!”

“We’re so not telling him about this, Angel.”

“...Does this mean I can tell Babe instead?”

“Wha - No, that wasn’t an invitation to tell his Mate!”

Aaron turns to Smartass who just shrugs. Neither of them could figure out what just happened. He’s just glad that you let them escape.

“Maybe they have some really kinky roleplaying thing going on.” Smartass guessed, wiggling your eyebrows suggestively.

Aaron runs his palm down his face in exasperation. “I don’t give a shit, Smartass. Can we please just finish up our grocery shopping already? I’m starting to get hungry.”

“Alright, alright. We just have to grab a few more things and then we can pay.” Smartass assured him and off they continued on their way.

Though neither of them still couldn’t help but wonder how the hell that man managed to sound like a wolf so accurately.

Kinky roleplay or not.

I’m tentatively planning to make this into a mini series including the rest of the non-empowered characters with their lovers. I’m already writing for Oliver and Baby so we’ll see how that goes!

#redacted asmr #fanfic #second pov #they/them pronouns #gender neutral s/o #smartass (listener)#Aaron #david shaw #angel (listener)

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newcaptainofsquad9 · 4 years

Text

Twice wanting to help with their Black girlfriend’s hair would include...

I’mma see how this goes. I know all Black hair is different, but I’m going off of my own experiences as a Black woman. I just wanted to make some Black women Once’s smile with this. Some of these have potentials for becoming entire fics, but let me know if ya’ll like them. Hope ya’ll enjoy!

Nayeon

• Nayeon would be so fixated on your hair, giggling every time you combed through it and applied whatever products you chose.

• She’d be super curious, it might come off as a bit rude sometimes but she’d always follow it up with aeygo, a hug or kiss. If you were really having a hard time with your hair, maybe all three.

• “Jagi, your hair looks so different from before? Do all these different gels and moisturizers help?”

• You nod, eyes staying on your reflection in the mirror as your hands grow tired.

• Nayoen notices, reaching to grab your hand, but flinches as you sigh.

“I’m sorry Nayeon, I still need to get out a few more kinks in the back.”

“Kinks?”

•You explain how your hair is extremely different from her own, going into detail as she listens to every word. The moment you finish, she asks if she could help.

This took you a little by surprise, but you allowed her to help moisturize your hair.

“Like this?” she’d ask as she carefully rubbed the Creme of Nature throughout your hair.

You nodded and showed her how to comb down to the root.

•Whenever you’d flinch or jump as she comb through a tangle or knot, she’d stop kiss you and rub down your arms.

• It didn’t take as long with Nayeon’s help, but instead of stopping because of your tired hands, it’d be Nayeon wanting to make-out

• “But my hair’s not finished yet?” you’d ask.

Nayeon would flash her signature bunny grin and kiss you anyway.

“You’re still perfect jagi.”

Jeongyeon

• Jeongyeon sat down in front of you with her attention fully on you with a puzzled expression as she watched you mix in the two relaxers you bought with a tiny, flat wooden stick.

• She’d be so engrossed as you put on the gloves and began to comb out your hair; her expression changing from curious to concerned in a matter of moments as you tensed at the knots and kinks you came across.

• She hurried to retrieve your moisturizer, spritz and all while looking to help.

“You forgot to add the moisturizer,” she’d say. “Isn’t that why it’s so hard to comb? I remember you told me. To get it softer.”

• Your heart sank at her soft tone, she remembered.

“Aww, well I can’t mix the products in with the perm,” you say, gesturing to the relaxer before you. “I have to comb it out then put it in.”

“Will that make it easier to manage?” she asks. “I-I just hate to see you in pain.”

• You had to embrace Jeongyeon to ease her, she always worried about knots and kinks a lot.

“Could I put the perm in for you? it could can go an hour less if I help.”

• You couldn’t say no with Jeongyeon’s intense stare and how much you already knew she cared and wanted to learn.

• It took awhile for Jeongyeon to comb a bit harder without fear of hurting you, but once you reassured her, it went well.

• Showed you memes while you sat with the perm in your hair and applied more Vaseline to your forehead to avoid burns and rashes.

• She shampooed your hair at your request after the perm was initially washed out to ensure it was completely out. She scratched your scalp too, just to ensure a bit more comfort during the process.

• Helped you blow dry, grease your scalp and all before ending the day with cuddles and kisses.

Momo

• Momo is the type of girlfriend who’d sit you in between her legs to help you with your hair.

• You thought against it, getting flashbacks from when your mom would fix your hair but of course you couldn’t resist her pouts.

• Momo might be a bit slower than the others when picking up on fixing your hair.

• She’d try to run her fingers through the knotted, kinky parts, but stopped as soon as you flinched or hissed in pain.

“Sorry!” she’d yelp before stopping completely to hug and kiss your cheek.

• You’d always reassure her and told her to watch until she was confident enough to do it herself.

• Even if she was 100 percent confident, she’d always try to make you feel comfortable while she combed through the tough parts.

“Boo! Mommy wants to hold you!” she’d say to Boo as the dog trotted into the room.

It’s as if the dog and owner were linked because Boo came over to you, crawled into your lap and licked your fingers.

• Momo always whispered sweet nothings in your ear, urging you to hold Boo tight for you both.

“Boo and I got you baby, I’m almost done. I promise.“

Sana

• Would love to help braid your hair all the time.

• Was confused as to why you need so many sections platted off.

• “So, you aren’t keeping it braided up this time?” she asked.

“No, well at least over night,” you say. “I’ll take it out in the morning.”

“Why? I love the braids, they bring out your eyes.”

• You tell her about your worries of wearing your hair in braids or cornrows, due to how people perceive hairstyles like that.

• Sana always told you otherwise, but wanted to go with whatever hairstyles that made you happy and comfortable.

• Whenever your hand would get tired while taking out your braids, Sana would help.

• She’d always ask if she was going too fast or slow, making sure you were ok.

• Would be confused about the concept of a bonnet, since she loved touching your hair, but understood why thanks to a talk with you.

• She’s puzzled as hell in the morning when you both way up and it’s halfway on your head.

“What happened?” she asks.

You shook your head as you adjusted it back on your head.

“It happens when I sleep kind of rough.”

Jihyo

• Jihyo is the type of girlfriend who will make an attempt to buy hair care products for you.

Calls you asking which product you use.

“What’s it called again? The pink bottle, right?” she asks.

“Pink oil moisturizer,” you say. “Could you pick up a thing of grease too?”

“Of course baby.”

• Would like to completely educated on your hair, texture and all before she even attempts to help.

• You’ve even caught her looking up Youtube videos on how to braid, twist etc.

“You can always ask, you know,” you’d say.

“I know, but it’s a sensitive subject and I just want to approach it the right way.”

• When she does try though, she sits you in her lap and you have to talk her through it while she does so.

• Comments on how beautiful you are and kisses your cheek and neck whenever you get flustered.

• Always has your bonnet ready when and if you need it.

Mina

• Mina was always fascinated with your hair, and it wasn’t until you stayed over one night that she began to ask a lot of questions about it.

• You had never seen her so inquisitive, especially when she was in the middle of a game.

“Is everything ok, Mina?”

“Yeah jagi, it’s just--your hair is so--amazing! You need that entire bag of products to do it?”

• Will just stare into your eyes while you’re fixing your hair, and grins with glee once you catch her(like in the gif above).

“You look so beautiful when you’re concentrating like that,” she says. “I-I can’t help it.”

• Mina is the one who catches on extremely quick on how to fix your hair and often asks if she could help with any new styles you’d like to try.

“Only if you want to,” she’d say. “I wouldn’t want to ruin it.”

• Once you’re comfortable with her fixing it, she’d definitely let you sit in her lap while she works and you’re gaming.

“You’re doing amazing baby, you barely tensed up,” Mina says. “Gaming really does relax you.”

Dahyun

• Dahyun loved your hair, yet always tread lightly when it came to how you when about doing and fixing it.

• She often came up to you with a giddy smile, yet she couldn’t find the words to tell you.

“Hi babe, you good?” you’d ask.

“Yeah, uh. I know you do it yourself and all but I can help. You seem a little down at times.”

• While you showed her how to do it, she’d always lighten the mood if you grew frustrated.

If your hand got tired she’d hold it and never let go until you’re smiling.

• Like Jeongyeon, she will show you memes and even take pictures of you (after you’ve finished a new hairstyle of course :) ) so you can make your own.

The captain would read: “When you’re too pretty for your own good” or “when you know you’re girlfriend material”

Of course Dahyun would keep it between the both of you, and it never ceased to make you smile or cringe at times.

• Is super giddy when you let her practice braiding your hair. She gets super engrossed in talking about your hair and just talking about the funny thing that have happened that you have to put her back on track at times.

Chaeyoung

• Chaeyoung always wanted to know more about your hair and finally asked to help you during wash day.

• You happened to be about to go over to the sink with your towel, shampoo and conditioner.

Chaeyoung popped in to use the bathroom and couldn’t help but ask if you needed her to do anything to assist.

• Like Jihyo, she’d do her research, but will always find your opinion on your own hair valid.

• Loves to sketch you whenever you just fixed your hair, and gives you a cute aesthetic like Cottagecore.

• Will just take you outside in the fresh air to take in how beautiful you look and take many Polaroids.

• When applying whatever products you need, she’d be super slow and extremely careful. Often times a little too slow, since the oils and/or moisturizers feel a certain way to her.

“Ooo, it feels so cool!” she’d say.

“Uh, Chae? You still have four more sections to go.”

“Oh, right! Sorry!”

Tzuyu

• You both were going to dinner and a movie one night. Tzuyu really wanted to see you, but your hair wasn’t really working for you. It usually didn’t take you as long.

• Tzuyu texted and called you from the living room where she waited, but got worried and knocked on your bedroom door, urging if you were ok or not.

• You told her to give you a few minutes, only for you to turn around and see her standing at the threshold of door (of course you forgot to lock it). Tzuyu staring at while you finish combing out your hair.

• She just stared, blankly then walked out.

• At the end of the date that night she just brought the encounter up again.

“I could have helped jagi,” she said.

“Tzuyu, you don’t have to.”

“But you were frustrated. I know that look.”

• Unlike the others, I think Tzuyu would leave most of the handling to you. It’s not that she didn’t find herself capable, but that she knew you could handle it.

• She mostly held parts of hair for you, along with apply grease or spritz to an area you couldn’t reach.

• Loves to just sit in your presence, take in your beauty and compliment you.

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theoreticslut · 4 years

Text

The Truth that you Deny // Part 5

pairing: fred weasley x reader x george weasley

part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4

word count: 1.8k

warnings: none

A/N: i’m honestly so sad that this is the last part to this series guys :( I had so much fun writing it and have had such amazing feedback on it, i’m not sure i want to give it up. I have thought about doing a small drabble or two of the story further into the relationship, but i don’t want to drag it out too long. If you guys like it enough and would like a sort of epilogue, let me know and I’ll definitely think about doing one. thank you to everyone that’s been reading this as I post it and giving feedback and/or reblogging. I am eternally grateful for you guys <3 out of the previous 4 parts this story has a total of about 400 notes which is actually crazy. so just, thank you! i love you guys Xx

Taglist: @justmesadgirl @xuckduck @yikesyikesyikes95 @filipi-yes @aestheticwh0r3 @siredkai @matsuno-nadeshiko @msmarklee1213 @immajustreadwritereblog @msmimimerton

You woke up christmas morning excited to spend the day with the people you considered family. You felt that you had gotten them all some great gifts and couldn’t wait to give them to each of them.

Even thought it was only 7:30 in the morning you couldn’t help but be awake. You knew most everyone else was still sleeping save for Mr and Mrs Weasley.

You decided that you’d like to have a shower before everything got started today so you quietly got yourself out of bed and found yourself some clothes to wear.

Stepping into the hall was oddly uncomfortable since there was no distant chatter from downstairs or someone’s room, but nonetheless you made your way to the bathroom which was just down the hall from Fred and George’s room.

Neither of them would be up for at least another half hour which was plenty enough time to shower.

You started the water and waited for it to warm up as you stripped down naked.

Stepping into the shower you shivered at the sheer temperature difference, but you happily welcomed the warm water on your skin.

You washed your face and shampooed your hair, finishing it before adding some conditioner. You started shaving and as you did so you started humming, getting lost into one of your favourite songs.

Eventually you finished shaving and washing your body, able to rinse the suds from your skin. You sighed as you shut the water off and stepped out into the bath mat.

After drying off and getting dressed in a pair of jeans and an older sweater, you picked up your mess and put everything back the way it was, throwing your towel into the basket Mrs Weasley had left in there for them.

Opening the door you were surprised to find George sitting on the floor against the wall.

“George?”

“Hmm? Oh, are you done?” He asked, lazily looking up at you from the floor.

“Yeah,” you chuckle. “Uh, what were you doing out here?”

“I had to use the bathroom but you were in there so I figured I’d wait right here. But I’m still a bit tired and you sing really nice.” He smiled, taking your extended hand to get up.

“Oh, uh, thank you. I’m sorry I kept you waiting, but it’s all yours now.” You smile as he nods, smiling back at you.

As you walk away he can’t help but notice how great you smell, which is only more intense in the small bathroom.

~.~

As you appear downstairs, you’re greeted by Mrs Weasley as she makes a pot of coffee.

“Good morning.” You smile.

“Good morning, dear. Would you like a cup?” She asks as you stand next to the table.

“Yes, please.”

“Is anyone else up yet?” She asks.

“I ran into George on the way out of the bathroom, but I haven’t heard or seen anyone else. George doesn’t even look like he’s ready to be up yet.” You chuckle, taking the mug she hands out to you.

“Typical.” She smiles, sitting down at the table and motioning for you to do the same.

“Have you talked to Fred and George yet about everything?” She asks, taking a sip from her mug.

“Not yet. I didn’t want to make anything awkward right before the holidays, but I’ll tell them soon”

She nods and takes another drink from her mug.

~.~

After sharing a cup of coffee and a good half hour conversation about school and what you’re thinking about for next year, Mrs Weasley asked if you would wake everyone up.

First you went and woke Ginny as she was closest. She didn’t quite want to be up yet so you left her and made your way to the twins room.

You knocked on the door, not hearing anything from inside.

“Fred? George? Time to get up.” You knocked again, but still didn’t hear anything.

Carefully, you opened the door and peered around to see the two of them still fast asleep. You sigh, but smile nonetheless.

You make you’re way into their room to shake them awake. You start with Fred to which he just groans, turning around.

“Come on you two. It’s time to get up.” You huff, trying to pull the blanket off George as he fights you.

“You two are impossible.” You sigh, shrieking when Fred grabs you from behind and pulls you down onto the bed with him.

Both of them laugh as you huff, trying to wiggle your way out of his grasp.

“Your hair is cold.” He points out as his face rests on it.

“I showered this morning and it’s still damp.”

“I can’t imagine my hair taking that long to dry.” He says and you roll your eyes.

“Can you let me go, please? You know that your mum would kill us if she found us like this, right?”

He hummed, not really giving you an answer but acknowledging your statement.

“I really don’t feel like dying on Christmas.”

You can hear the both of them chuckle, but you still don’t get a response.

“Are you guys falling back asleep?! For Merlin’s sake” you groan slapping Fred’s arms and when that didn’t work you steal one of his pillows from under his head and hit him with it.

“Just ten more minutes, that’s all we’re asking.” George mumbles, already half asleep again.

“No! Get your ass up.” You huff, throwing Fred’s pillow at him.

After another few minutes of struggling you finally get them both out of bed and you sigh in exasperation.

With them finally awake you work on waking Ron and Harry, and then waking up Ginny for real.

~.~

“Merry Christmas, everyone!” Hermione greets as she makes her way in the house that afternoon.

“Merry Christmas, ‘mione.” You smile, taking her bag for her so she could take her jacket off.

“Have you guys done gifts yet?” She asks, hanging her coat on one of the hooks by the door.

“Not yet. We’ve been waiting for you. We can all sit in the living room and get started if you’re ready.” Mrs Weasley said, carrying a tray filled with mugs of cocoa for everyone.

Hermione nodded and followed you into the living room, taking a seat next to Harry, Ron, and Ginny. You take your place between Fred and George, both of whom smile as they pass you a mug from the tray.

About an hour of opening gifts, you were nearing the last couple gifts. So far you had received the traditional Weasley sweater with your initial on the front, a pair of sparkly yet simple teardrop earrings from Ginny, a book about one of your favourite classes from hermione, a notebook from Fred, followed by some nice quills from George, a mixtape both of them had put together for you of some of all your guys favourite songs. You had also gotten a new maroon scarf from Ron and some candies from Harry.

You had given Fred and George their gifts from you; a notebook for each of them to keep track of all their crazy inventions, a few joke toys you were certain they’d never seen which made each of them laugh, and a promise to buy them each a butterbeer on your next trip to hogsmeade.

Everyone else seemed to enjoy their gifts from you as well which was nice to know. You loved getting people gifts and it was always so much nicer when they liked them.

“Okay, I think this is the last of them and it’s for y/n from Fred and George.” Mr Weasley read.

You looked at them, gingerly taking the small gift as it was handed to you. You looked between the two twins wondering what else they could have gotten you as you had already gotten enough from them.

“Stop looking at us and open it.” Fred chuckles.

“Why did you get me something else? You both already gave me enough.”

“Just open it, please.” He smiles, rubbing his neck.

“I’m a little scared, nothing is going to pop out at me is it?”

“Nothing will pop out at you. We promise.” George says, looking over to his brother as you finally get the wrapping paper off the small box.

You open it up and gasp. Inside lay a beautiful silver locket with intricate detailing on the face of it.

“It’s beautiful” you whisper, looking between them.

“Open it up.” George urges.

You do as he says and your mouth falls open, your hand coming up to cover it.

“Fred, George...” you whisper, tears forming in your eyes.

On the inside, there was a picture of the three of you from earlier this year on the side that would lay against your chest. In the opposite side there was an engraving of a heart and the words ‘we love you, f & g’

“Do you like it?” Fred asks, trying to catch your eye as you’re still looking down at it.

You nod, trying to keep from crying.

“I love it.” You say, clearing your throat as it had gotten groggy holding back tears.

“Good,” Fred smiles. “We really like you, like a lot, y/n.”

“We have for awhile.” George adds.

“We weren’t sure how to tell you, but then we saw this locket and knew.” He smiles as you watch him.

“Yeah, we knew you would like wearing it, even more so when we got the engraving and picture put in.” Fred says.

“Like we said, we really like you, y/n.” George starts.

“It’s actually more than just liking you. We’ve both loved you pretty much since we all became friends.” Fred adds, the two of them seeming to ramble at this point.

“We know you were worried about hurting one of us, but you don’t have to. We don’t care what anyone else might say, we love you and we’re going to be with you for merlin’s sake.” George smiles, watching your face for a reaction.

You chuckle as tears are starting to spill over your cheeks. You pull both of them into a hug, sighing as you feel their arms wrap around you.

“It’s about time!” Ginny cheers, causing all of you to chuckle. Well except for Mrs Weasley who shushes her.

“It seriously is though. I’m glad you all finally admitted it.” Hermione says, smiling.

“Yeah, congrats guys.” Harry says.

“I love you, guys.” You whisper, smiling as they both kiss your cheek.

“This does mean you’ll be our girlfriend, right? And maybe even someday, our wife?” George asks.

You pull away and chuckle as you try to wipe your eyes.

“Yes. Merlin are you two dumb.”

Fred and George both smile at you, admiring how gorgeous you look sitting there as theirs, even when you have tear stains across your cheeks. It took a while to get here, but now that they were, they wanted to keep it for as long as they possibly could.

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jpegjade · 4 years

Text

I’m not a cynic - Spencer

so i finally finished this one. it was supposed to just be a song blurb but i got a longer idea for it and ended up writing it over a period of a few days. so yeah! here’s the song it’s based on:

i’m not a cynic - Alec Benjamin

warnings: none just angsty fluff. (not really angst, just upset spencer for a sec)

__________________

“Oh my god.” Spencer groaned, dropping his keys on the floor of the hallway.

Spencer Reid was having a bad day. It started when he woke up on the wrong side of the floor, literally. He turned over one too many times and fell out of bed, directly onto the floor. You had left to go to work early so he had no body compass in relation to where you were in the bed. He wasn’t used to you leaving early so this threw him off quite a bit.

Despite being abruptly woken up on time, he was late to work. The 10 am briefing hadn’t started when he got to the office but he was too late for coffee. There was no time to make more so he was grumpy in the briefing, hardly saying a word.

Spencer had a ton of case files to look over, in addition to their current case, so he already felt overwhelmed. Morgan wouldn’t stop talking about how quiet he was and when Spencer snapped at him, Hotch gave him a stern talking to about his attitude over the past few days. The result was pairing Reid with Garcia, meaning he didn’t go into the field. He didn’t mind working with Garcia but he wanted to be out with the rest of the team. He always felt like he was missing out when he wasn’t there with everyone else. He felt like that for most of his life, he didn’t want to feel like he was missing out at his job too.

Spencer pushed the door to the apartment open and found you dancing in the living room with your headphones in.

“Hey love!” You said, loudly.

You took out one headphone to hear Spencer but he didn’t look at you. He was looking down at his Converse as he unlaced them. Pulling off his satchel, he put it on the table and walked past you without saying anything, sitting on the couch. He put his hands in his hair and let out a deep sigh he had been holding in for a while.

You could tell by the way his shoulders slumped and the curve of his back that something was wrong. When Spencer got quiet, something was always wrong. And when he didn’t immediately smile at you when he got home, it had been a hard day. A hard day and something bothering him meant you probably should start running a bath and the two of you could just talk it out.

Turning down your music, you began running the bath water so it could warm up as it filled the tub. From there, you grabbed your matching comfy robes and his favorite face masks, laying everything out with your matching pajamas. You weren’t going to shower until after dinner but you figured that you could change your schedule a little bit tonight.

Turning off the water, you walked back into the living room to find Spencer with his hands still propping up his head. He was muttering something but you couldn’t hear it. You gently sat down next to him and softly called his name.

“Spencer?” It was barely audible but he heard it.

“What?” He snapped.

“Do you want to take a bath with me?” You said, trying not to be defensive.

“No.” He said, shaking his head.

“Oh, well. I ran the water if you change your mind.” You said, leaning back on your heels. He wasn’t normally like this. Usually, he was more reserved and stoic when he was thinking but now he seemed… Angry.

“I didn’t ask for you to run the water.” Spencer let out a large sigh of frustration. He had been building up all of this energy all day and he couldn’t take holding it in anymore.

“I know you didn’t ask but you always want a warm bath and to relax when you have a bad day.” You said, trying to keep your own frustration with him at bay.

“Does anyone ever think that they don't really know me or what I’m going through?” Spencer snapped.

You paused for a moment, unsure what to really say so you just let him continue.

“I’m not a cynic but it’s beyond not my day. This isn't my life. And it’s hard to process that no one even seems to acknowledge that I’m struggling.” Spencer said. “You all seem to think that just because I’m smart, life just goes my way. Well, newsflash, it doesn't. I can’t fix anything by being smart. I can’t fix anything by being smart and none of you get that.”

You watched in shock as Spencer looked up at you with tears rolling down his face. It wasn’t often that Spencer snapped at you. It always had the initial stinging effect that he intended but not too long after he snapped, he always softened up because you weren’t trying to hurt him and he knew that. It was just the stress from the day getting to him. The stress from everything was getting to him.

“Come on.” You said, holding out your hand.

Spencer took it and you led him to the bathroom with the now warm bathwater. Spencer got undressed while you mixed more hot water and a bath bomb in the water. Once Spencer got in, you got the shampoo out of the cabinet and sat on the edge while he got comfortable in the colorful bath water and bubbles.

“Is this okay?” You said, massaging his shoulders. He was a bit tense to the touch but he slowly loosened up the more you worked on his shoulders.

“Yeah.” He said, nodding. “I’m sorry I snapped.”

“I forgive you. Was it a hard day?” You asked, trying to open the door for a more gentle conversation.

“Yeah…” Spencer began detailing his day to you, piece by piece. Every frustration, every nuance, everything that made him pent up and slowly, his shoulders started to lose tension. You could feel it under your hands.

“Have you talked to your mom today?” You asked, knowing that seemed to cheer him up.

Instead of the reaction you hoped for, his shoulders completely slumped. You heard a couple water drops hit the bath water before Spencer’s body started shaking.

“Y/n, she forgot who I was for half of the call.” Spencer sounded so broken.

You rubbed his back as he cried. It was a wonder how he held that in for so long today, that pain. You didn’t say anything as a tear rolled down your cheek. Seeing him in pain always managed to hurt you more than anything else. A few more sobs and some sniffles later, Spencer was calm again. You got out the shampoo and started washing his hair in silence. You wanted to give him room to express himself in any way he felt was helpful so you figured being silent was the best thing.

Spencer closed his eyes as your hands worked through his hair. It was one thing for him to wash it. It was another for your magical fingers to move through it. You just had a calming effect he didn’t have on his own. But that could be said about most things. You were his better half, his support system. He was a different person with you and you both knew it. He was a better person with you in his life.

“Do you know why I married you, Spencer?” You asked, washing the shampoo out of his hair.

“Was it for my stunning good looks?” Spencer sadly chuckled.

“Yes. But also for your heart. Mainly for your heart. You’re smarter than I’ll ever be. You’re more beautiful than an angel. But your heart is made of gold and that’s why I fell in love with you.” You started the conditioner, the true secret to his silky soft hair.

“Is this supposed to make me feel better?” Spencer chuckled again.

“Wait, you potato brain.” You said, smiling. It was nice to hear him chuckle. “Your mom raised you with a pure heart. A heart so pure and a brain so intricate that no one will understand. Baby, no one will ever understand you. I married you and I don’t understand you. But you can’t hold that against us because we’re trying our best.”

“I know…” Spencer sighed.

“But at the same time, you have a right to be frustrated because you can’t help or fix the person that matters to you most. It’s hard to lose someone to something so misunderstood right now and incurable. It’s hard to watch that transition. I know. But you’re not alone, okay? It hurts me that Diana is going through this but you have to trust that she’s getting the best care to make her life easier and so are you.” You said, washing out the conditioner.

“So if you need to cry,” you continued, grabbing him a big towel for his hair. “Then you go ahead and cry. If you need to throw things, I’ve got starburst you can fling at the wall. If you need a hug or a cuddle, you married an amazing cuddler, if I do say so myself. But please don't hold it in and blow up on me, okay?” You said, drying his hair before wrapping it.

“I think I’ll take you up on that cuddle and a good cry.” Spencer said.

“Okay, Mr. Reid, I will see you in the bedroom, then.” You repositioned to stand up but Spencer gently grabbed your hand.

“Can we stay here a little longer? There’s something soothing about the water.” He said, looking up at you with those big puppy eyes.

“Sure, Spence. Whatever makes you happiest.” You smiled, sitting back down on your little bathroom stool.

“You make me happiest, y/n.” Spencer smiled.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid imagine

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glassartpeasants · 4 years

Text

Crying In the Club .2

Overhaul x F!Reader

Warnings: Abuse, manipulation, gore,

*Part 1* *Part 2*

A/N: I actually really enjoyed writing the first one so i thought why not make a little series. I don’t know how long it’s actually going to be but we’ll see how it goes!

~~~

You sit in the clean bedroom that your oh so loving boyfriend put you in. The room smelled of disinfectant and was pristine clean.

The smell was disgusting. It made bile rise up in your throat. You held you hand over your mouth as you felt the bile creep into your mouth.you quickly swallowed it before you threw up all over the room.

The fear of Kai was more then convincing enough to not throw up. You knew that if Kai even smelled vomit it was your ass on the line. Anything that pissed him off? You were the punching bag. As much as it sucked, there wasn’t much you could do.

You laid down on the clean bed as you looked up at the ceiling. Your body shook violently with frustration with your situation. You couldn’t tell pops. Kai would just erase his memory again, then you would be in a whirlwind of trouble that really wasn’t worth it at this point.

‘Why me? Am I that so desperate for love that he decided i was and easy target? It’s always the pretty ones that are the assholes!’

Your nails dug into the bed sheets as tears of frustration run down your face. Your eyes squeezed shut as you bang on the mattress. You open your blurry eyes while you sit up ad swing your feet over the bed so they hit the floor.

Anger coursed through you veins as you looked around the clean room. Your hands gripped the bed sheets as you ripped it off the bed. Bedding flies all over the room covering up the carpet. Pillows, sheets, blankets, everything was thrown in random directions of the room. No place was safe.

The small bathroom was no safer then the bed was as you open the door roughly making it hit the wall, causing to make a tiny dent in it. You fly open the medicine cabinet and threw out every vitamin and pill bottle out. The bottles hit the floor with a thunk making pills fly out of the bottle as the lids broke off.

Pills cover the once clean floor, breaking into pieces and dust as you step on them on your way to the tub. You grab the conditioner and shampoo bottles squeezing them with all your might. Opening the lid as you squeezed all the contents of the bottle down the drain along with Kai’s hand sanitizer and more watching as the water takes it all down the drain.

Trashed. That’s how bad the room was. Your eyes widen once you realized the damage you had caused to the room. Your fit of rage was over and as everything came back to you like a train. You try to get your composure as you quickly try to clean the whole room before Kai got back, trying to fix everything you destroyed. The shampoo, conditioner and all the other products that went down the drain was a no go. But you could still make the bed and clean all the destroyed pills on the floor.

Your hand worked at the speed of light as you put the sheets around the corners of the bed, putting the blankets neatly on the bed, trying to make it look as clean as possible. Pillows were put in a symmetric pattern trying to give it that perfect look Kai so desperately craved. The bathroom was a horror to work with as you picked up all the pills that were still intact and put them back in the bottle, shoving them into the cabinet. Your hands made quick work of scrubbing the powder of the pills away. making it look clean enough to see your reflection in it. Maybe if you did that, your punishment wouldn’t be as harsh.

~~~

You let out a sigh as the bathroom looked spotless except for the empty bottles and that god forsaken dent in the wall. Your body shook as your ‘lover’ made his way to the door, unlocking it.You knew it would be better to tell the truth then lie about it. If you told the truth your punishment would be less harsh hopefully, but you didn’t get your hopes up knowing Kai.

“Are you ready to act like an adult now?”His voice rang in your head as you let out a gasp.

“No.” Your voice was shaky as you gather up the courage to tell him the truth.

“Why not?” You could sense his aggravated tone right away, belittling your confidence in telling him.

“I lost my temper.” You say looking down. Trying to hide away from his liquid gold eyes. Tears streamed down your face as you heard the door that was once unlocked, locked. You saw his feet in your field of vision getting closer to you.

“Excuse me?! What did you do?!” his voice sent shivers down your spine as your squeezed your fists so tight your knuckles turned white.

“I trashed the room, I cleaned all up after I was done to the best of my ability but-” A gloved hand made contact with your cheek at high force. A hand print sketched into your face, stinging and throbbing.

‘What else have you done?!”

“I...I poured all the shampoo and conditioner out, along with your hand sanitizer. I opened the bathroom door to hard and caused a little dent in the wall.” Before you knew it a hand grabbed your wrist squeezing hard.

“Your lucky I have a meeting to go to with Pops. You unfortunately have to come with as well which means your punishment will be postponed until later tonight. Come on we need to find you a suitable dress.” His hand squeezed harder on your wrist making you wince but keep your mouth shut. He was angry enough, its best to just stay quiet for awhile.

~~~

Your mouth hurt from all the fake smiling you were doing during the meeting. You sat right next to Kai, trying to keep the girlfriend act up. You had to hold hands with this asshole which felt like a sin in itself. His gloved hand was a unwelcomed feeling of cold despite your hatred for him, you felt a bit safe next to him. Safe from the hungry stares the old men in the meeting were giving you.

Kai was trying to get this sit over with and fast. He hated how you scooted closer to him, he hated you and you hated him, go away. He didn’t want your filth near him. He looked at you questioning why you were so close to him when he saw you shifting uncomfortably at the hungry stares from the older men around the table. Gears clicked in his head as soon as he realized the situation.

“So pretty lady, hows it like living with a germophobe as a boyfriend.” the old man chuckled as did many other men around the table. He looked you up and down. Even though he despised your entire existence, a spark of possessiveness kicked into his body. Fuck off, I need her for my plans.

“Um does it really matter?” You say nervously. Kai’s eyebrow arched at you when he heard you talk back to the man. He tried to move a bit away but couldn’t when he felt your fingers intertwine with his even more as you squeezed his gloved hand tighter. He would never admit it but the warmth of your hand felt a bit nice, compared to his freezing ones.

“I’m just saying it’s pretty funny seeing him get a girlfriend, a pretty one at that.” The man purred at you. You shifted not liking the way it was going down this road. You hoped that Kai would get some sort of message and allow you to leave.

“This meeting is done.” Kai stood up and shot every man a dirty look before stomping out of the room. Making a note to kill the man who wolf whistled at you when you both left the room.

Kai swing your bedroom door up. He practically threw you into the room. You try to catch your balance as your heels where not helping you on the carpet. Before you could fall though a hand grabbed your upper arm and pulled you up.

You were about to say something before a metal clinking caught your attention. Your eyes go wide and felt the cold metal hit your exposed shoulder blades, dragging it around the exposed flesh.

A rush of pain surged through your entire being as you felt the tip of the metal blade pierce through your skin. It felt like every single second was a eternity in hell. The slow movements of the blade ripping through your fresh skin felt like you were being killed by him over and over again.

Kai seemed to drag it out longer then needed. You felt the blood trickle down your back as your entire being shook in pain and fear.

Kai watched as your body shook feeling a sense of power as he realized the amount of control he has over you. It felt like a sick arousal that he couldn’t get enough of. Watching you cry out in pain and fear felt like he was the king. He could end you right now and you would never tell anyone.

And he hated you for it.

How dare you fill his mind with sick fantasies? He has a job to do. Your disgusting, oh how he wished he could kill you, but he still needed you. His plan was almost in fruition and once it was he could finally get rid of your disgusting presence.

The pain finally ended making you let out a sigh of relief. the throbbing pain was still there but the worse of it was over.

“There, now no one will want you. I still need your filthy life in order for my plan to succeed. People will know that your my bitch. And i do whatever i want to you. But they don’t need to know on how much I can’t wait to kill you. To see your blood splatter all over the floor will be my dream come true.” He let you go making you fall to your knees.

“Belong to you? Be careful Kai, your starting to sound like you actually need me.” You growl as you look up as him over your shoulder.

Your chin was grabbed harshly by Kai as you were brought face to face with him.

“We both know that once this is over, you will no longer be needed, then i can finally get rid of your disgusting life.”

“Then why did you carve your initials into my shoulder? What? Did you feel threatened?” You snicker at him with a smirk carved into your face with him glaring at you.

You stare at him for another second or two before grabbing his arm and taking him down onto the ground with you. You try to hop up onto the floor and run but he caught your leg tripping you, making you crash to the floor.

He dragged you back to him while you were kicking and clawing your way away from him. Trying to escape only to have him hold you tightly as you try and wiggle your way out of his clutches.

You throw your head back hitting him in the face. He let go for a split second, but that was all you needed for you to book it.

You dig your nails into the carpet as you push yourself up and open the door, flying out of the room and out into the compound halls.

Fear courses through your veins when you crash into someone’s chest. Your prayed it was pops only for the familiar scent of vanilla to hit your nose. You look up to see Hari Kurono, Kai’s right hand man.

‘He’d probably be a better boyfriend then Kai ever would.’ Your hands were grabbed as you were spun around and walked towards your prison you just escaped from.

“Do what he says and you won’t get hurt understand?” Hari said into your ear. His voice sent shivers down your spine as your remembered how dangerous both of these men were. Curse you and your shit taste in men.

Once you stop at the room and Kai stepped out you knew you were in for a ride. Your finger felt like fire as you were left with Kai as Hari let go of you and walked away.

‘Shit no come back asshole. If your around Kai might be a bit nicer fuck.’

“I was gonna make our punishment a little easier since I WAS in a good mood but you just had to ruin it didn’t you? Jesus can’t you do anything right?” He grabbed your arm and threw you into the room. But he didn’t come in You turn to face him only to have the door shut in your face and the door locked.

“Hwy let me out dickweed!” You banged on the door but no one heard you and no one came to your rescue.

~~~

3 days later

Your mouth felt dry like a desert. Your stomach growling in demand for food. You held your stomach as you whine in pain, the hunger pain started to creep up on you. Sure you had water in your bathroom but food was your main priority right now.

The sound of shoes stopping in front of you door had your weary eyes looking in that direction, looking for his eyes. Your energy was gone as you barely had the strength to get up.

“Have you learned your lesson yet (Y/N)?” To tired to care about anything you said yes.

He closed the door and walked over to your tired body laying on the bed.

The power trip he got from seeing your submissiveness to him, you couldn’t fight and didn’t talk back. You didn’t have the energy to do either.

Why didn’t he think of this sooner? You’re doing whatever he says and all he had to do was keep food from you? Take away your source of energy? How long could he do this? If you went another 3 days without food would you give up and do whatever he says in fear of not getting food? Would you finally not make a fit about everything?

“You know what? I think I’m gonna extend your punishment by another 3 days. Maybe then you would learn your place brat.”

#overhaul angst #chisaki overhaul #mha overhaul #overhaul x reader #overhaul #kai chisaki #kai #kai chisaki x reader #shie hassaikai #mha #bnha #mha angst #bnha angst

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