#everyone was just supposed to Know where the line was and there would be no feedback by which we might adjust our behavior along the way | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

holdupjack · 3 days ago

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Jump The Line Pt.1

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Pairing: Hermione Granger x Fem!Reader

AU: 1950s/WWIII/pretend enemies

WARNINGS: None

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Third Person P.O.V:

December 12th, 1965

Y/n stood at her post on the march of a small town in her country. It was just a small wall of barbwire and sandbags, but right on the other side, were hundreds of witches and wizards.

(A/N: A 'March' is just another way to say 'border')

It was kind of surreal to think that something so insignificant, was their only line of defense. Hell, Y/n could jump it with ease if she wanted to.

But, now thinking about it, it really wasn't their only line of defense. There was her. The recruit that was a few months fresh out of boot camp, and was now the sole gun that stood guard on this strip of border.

It was very much terrifying, and a lot to put on one's shoulders. The only other soldier on this street was two blocks away, and he wasn't even awake half the time. So...she just bit her tongue and held her gun by its strap over her shoulder. She would stare at the wall on the other side of the street for almost twelve hours at a time before anyone bothered to relieve her from her post.

Everyone in this small town knew that they needed more soldiers stationed here, but there just wasn't enough to go around. Their enemy outnumbered them here, and they knew that was well, yet they just hovered around the borderline.

Watching, talking amongst one another in hushed voices, or sometimes one of them would walk up and ask her if she had a smoke. It was honestly quite strange, and a little unnerving.

But, there was only one small upside to this whole thing, and it was also an upside that would get her into more trouble than she could ever imagine. There was this certain...witch.

Ugh, it was ridiculous, honestly. She was one of the communication liaisons for their leaders, and they happened to work around the same time every day. From 6 pm to 6 am, Y/n would watch as the brunette went from tent to tent with papers and files tucked under her arms, sometimes even arguing with the higher ranks in the area while doing so.

Y/n never knew what they were arguing about, it was all a bunch of gibberish to her, but the only real thing she had learned was the woman's name.

Hermione.

A wizard had yelled at her for doing his job, to which she immediately stood toe to toe with him, barking back in his face that he should be 'better at it since he was watching her do it for so long'. It took everything in Y/n to not laugh because the man was a good foot higher than her, and yet she held her ground.

Their eyes had met a few times throughout Y/n's new post, but it only lasted a few seconds each time. The soldier thought it meant nothing, and wouldn't be surprised if the liaison cursed her whole lineage in her head.

But then, something mysterious happened.

Y/n had been where she always was, staring at the wall across the way, only really looking across when there was a sudden movement, or something caught her eye. So she was quite spooked when a soft voice called out to her from the left, where the border sat.

"Hello there"

Y/n blinked and looked over to find the intriguing liaison standing right at the edge of the waist-high wall. It was around 3am, and both sides were quiet as church mice, which is what usually happened when the moon came out to greet them.

"Uh, hello" Y/n replied in surprise. She wasn't a hundred percent sure if she was even supposed to be talking to her, but then again, it wasn't her first time talking to the enemy. They were kind enough to feed her during her patrols since she was told repeatedly that she would be reprimanded if she even thought about lifting her eyes away from the border.

You don't even want to know about the bathroom situation.

"May we speak for a moment?" The brunette asked, and Y/n subconsciously leaned on one foot to the other. She hesitated before taking a few tiny steps forward and tightening her grip on the strap of her rifle.

"I don't bite, you know" Hermione laughed softly, and Y/n opened her mouth to say something but ended up just closing it a few seconds later. She was nervous for multiple reasons, which incidentally caused her tongue to shrivel up, but thankfully the other woman was more talkative at the moment.

"My name is Hermione Granger, I am the communications liaison for this battalion, and you are...Y/l/n? Do you perhaps have a first name?" She joked as she read the tag on her uniform, to which the soldier stood up straighter and finally found her voice.

"Y/n, I'm a soldier" she replied and the witch nodded, her eyes flicked up and down the fighter's body a few times, before meeting her gaze again.

"I'm like you, except with powers" Hermione states, and Y/n furrowed her brows in confusion. From what she knew, the enemy was a hidden society that lived under our noses for centuries!

Then again, they are just people as well.

"How so?" Y/n asks as she takes another tiny step forward, her eyes watching carefully as Hermione chuckles and pushes down the wrinkles on her own uniform.

"I was just like you, a regular little girl in London" she explains and the surprises Y/n. Regular? So, she wasn't magical a birth? Fascinating.

"Really?" Y/n asks as she takes another step, a shiver then runs up her spine as snow clouds rippled over the landscape just outside of town. It wouldn't be long before she was stuck in a powdery downpour. God, that's the worst thing about this area of the country around wintertime, it snowed more often at night than it did during the day.

"Truly" Hermione replies as she takes a step forward as well. It wasn't long before they stood directly in front of one another, and there was a strange mix of awkwardness, fear, and curiosity. It felt wrong to even look at the other person, but at the same time, the rush felt very nice.

"How did you know? When you got your abilities, I mean" Y/n stammered as she anxiously held her gun by its strap over her shoulder. Even though there was barely anyone else on the streets, it was still nerve-wracking to think that they both could accidentally start a battle or be severely reprimanded.

"Little things. When I got very emotional, strange moments started to happen. Objects would disappear, change color or size, or even levitate if I was angry enough" Hermione explained as she watched Y/n tilt her head in thought, even tracing the bricks under her feet with the tip of her boot. The witch found it endearing since this was the first soldier she had tried to speak to, that didn't immediately put a gun in her face. So, that was refreshing.

"That's very interesting, but I doubt you've called me over to chitchat about our lives" Y/n replied with a slight smile, the brim of her cap blocked the light from the street lamp from hitting her eyes. Hermione was surprised by the insight but was glad to know that she didn't have to beat around the bush.

"You are right. The real reason I am here is because we would like to send a message to the civilians within the town and any military personnel." Hermione says as she clears her throat and straightens her posture. Perhaps to make herself more official, or maybe just to remind herself that she had a job to do.

"Message?" Y/n mumbled to herself as she furrowed her brows, and noticed as Hermione pulled out a large yellow envelope from somewhere. Maybe she was holding it? Y/n wasn't entirely sure.

"We are giving anyone who would like to leave the area, a chance to do so without problems. We have our forms of transportation that can send them wherever they would like to go." Hermione says in almost one breath, and Y/n is stunned to hear this. Was this...a warning? That something big was about to happen?

"I understand the civilians wanting to leave, but soldiers? You're asking us if we want to abandon our homes? Betray our country?" She asked calmly, but it was obvious she was offended. The brunette quickly shook her head and held the envelope over the waist-high barbed wire.

"No, no. It's just...a suggestion" she says with a slight breath as Y/n has to hold back the urge to snatch the documents from the other girl's hand. Hermione watched as the soldier pulled out the papers and read them over carefully, even stepping back to be directly under the streetlights.

This was big. It was multiple copies of the same thing the witch had said. Anyone who wanted to evacuate was more than willing to come to the border with a bag and would be taken anywhere they'd like. Free of charge.

Y/n stuffed the papers back into the envelope, and turned her back towards Hermione, before giving a loud whistle down the street. The brunette raised an eyebrow in slight confusion before a boy, no older than 18, came jogging down to Y/n. He could barely hold up his weapon, and he seemed very on edge, almost like a deer in headlights.

"Ryland, stay here and guard the border. I have to take these papers to command, immediately" Y/n explains in a hushed tone, watching as the young man nodded, his helmet blocking his eyes for a moment before he quickly pushed it back up. Everything on him was way too big, but it wasn't like the world had time to tailor his uniform right now.

"Yes, of course" he stammers before Y/n quickly runs off into the darkness with the flyers in hand. The young man, Ryland, Hermione thought she heard, quickly pointed his gun at her.

"Back! Or I shoot!" He shouted in between a stutter, and Hermione quickly raised her hands and backed away with an annoyed expression, but then again, he was probably scared out of his mind.

Hermione made her way back into the nearest tent as a cold wind blew just behind her, and then soon the soft shine of snow began to fall onto the thick dark fabric of the shelter. She sighed softly and pulled up a chair to the table in the middle as everyone slept soundly in their cots.

She should get some sleep, but she wanted to speak to that soldier again. She was obviously much kinder, and less likely to jump the gun. Literally.

Hermione jumped as another loud clash of a distant mortar erupted from outside the village, and she couldn't help up laugh at herself softly and lay her face in her hands. She really didn't find it all that funny, but she'd rather laugh than cry.

After spending a few months on the front lines in England, she's found herself very scared of loud noises. It reminded her of grenades, artillery, and the distance fire of tanks.

So, she just laughed it off. The last thing she needed was to be sent back home when she knew she could help end this war sooner than later.

It also didn't help that she had been fighting against other muggle-borns who had chosen the other side. Seeing classmates on the opposite side of the front lines, with nothing but muggle weapons. She had seen a few break their wands before returning home, knowing that it was the only way they could leave the Wizarding World without much resistance.

Speaking of home, her childhood house was destroyed during the invasion of London. Thankfully, she had her parents move into a rented home hidden in the mountains in Europe. They're protected from the battles and hidden by magic, and that's all she could really do.

"Oh Merlin" she whispers softly as she rubs her temples, fighting off sleep as it tries to creep in, feeling her eyes droop closed and then shoot open repeatedly. Finally, she stood up and shook her head in an attempt to awaken herself, but it only made her yawn as she quietly walked over to the flap of the tent, opening it enough to peak out into the snowstorm.

She was surprised to already see Y/n right back at her post, the snow drenching the thin uniform she wore as flakes blew off the brim of her cap. Had Hermione been thinking for that long? No, it must have only been a few minutes, but their base of operations must not be that far from the border.

"She doesn't even have a winter coat on" Hermione grumbled quietly as she took in Y/n's appearance from what she could see due to the low glow of the street light.

"Who doesn't?" The whisper came from behind her, and she instinctively jumped and whipped her head around, but only found Harry with a smile on his lips.

"Harry! Don't do that! When did you even get here?" She states, almost with a hiss in her words from the annoyance that filled her body within a fraction of a second. She hated being scared.

"I just took the portkey from the base in lower France, but you still haven't answered my question" he replied with a chuckle before turning the chair she was sitting in earlier, towards her and taking a seat. Hermione rolled her eyes and turned back to peak through the flap again.

"If you must know, I was speaking about the soldier I had just spoken to" she replied and Harry furrowed his brows in confusion. He sat up slightly and rested his arms on his thighs.

"A soldier spoke to you? Really? They said they must be more open-minded around here" he joked as he watched Hermione continue to stare out into the storm. He sighed softly and stood up as well, walking over to take a peak with her.

"Trust me, I've gotten more barrels in my face today than I'd like to experience in my whole life" she mumbled as she shivered slightly due to the temperature drop. Harry squinted slightly to see better in the darkness, and then he noticed something immediately.

"A woman? Ooo, does Hermione have a piqued interest in the enemy?" He teased and the liaison rolled her eyes at his childlike banter. Sometimes she just wanted to knock him to the ground just so his sarcastic jokes would take a backseat for a while.

"We talked for maybe two minutes, and don't even insinuate that I have any feelings towards the other side! Do you want me to be thrown in Azkaban for treason?" She asked quietly as her eyes darted around the tent at all their sleeping allies and Harry just rolled his eyes at her anxiousness.

"Whatever" he sings softly before plopping down on an empty cot. Hermione sighed in frustration at his nonchalant attitude, acting as if this whole war and situation were nothing to worry over.

Hermione took a deep breath and looked out at Y/n one more time, silently debating a question in her head. Should she, or should she not?

To be or not to be, that is the question.

With a few seconds of pacing, Hermione grumbled to herself as she snatched one of the umbrellas that was leaving against one of the support poles. It popped open almost immediately as she stepped back into the storm, and her eyes zipped back to Y/n.

"You'll catch a cold!" she called out once she was close enough to the border again, which just caused Y/n to jump again. Their eyes met through the onslaught of snow and dim streetlights.

"A cold? I think that's the least of my worries" Y/n replied, having to raise her voice because of how loud the wind was. Hermione chuckled and held the umbrella's handle just a little tighter.

"That is true, but to not even have the proper attire on is a little much" the brunette replied as she rocked from foot to foot, now starting to realize that she should really have thought of some conversation starters before she walked back over here. But maybe she was just nervous, and her causal responses had gone on vacation because of it.

"Sounds like you're trying to get me to leave my post" Y/n murmured, and Hermione stammered so bad, that she stuttered for a solid five seconds. The only thing that snapped her out of it, was the single thought that passed her consciousness.

TODAY WOULD BE NICE!

"Th-That-. Dammit! That's not what I was getting at!" She coughed out, and Y/n didn't even react to the humiliating ten seconds that would haunt Hermione's nights at random points in her life. Instead, the witch only noticed the smirk on the soldier's lips.

She stared at Y/n's side profile for a few seconds, deciding whether to yell at the enemy for the sake of her pride, or take the hit and turn in for the night out of shame. She opted for the latter, but yet, her legs stayed firmly planted where they were.

"That is not funny," she says and Y/n turns enough to catch the other girl's gaze, her smirk barely being held down, the evidence was by the twitching in the corners of her lips.

"I don't know, I enjoyed the way you reacted. It was like watching a baby dear trying to walk on ice" Y/n snickered and the witch coughed out what was almost a laugh, but it sounded more offended than anything.

"Are you trying to start the battle?" Hermione sighed as she pinched the bridge of her nose, closing her eyes for only a moment, just to clear her racing mind. But when she opened them again, she was greeted by the fact the Y/n now stood directly across from her.

She stepped back slightly out of habit but just as quickly returned her foot to where it was before. Hermione didn't know how Y/n was able to move that quickly, but now it was harder to see her face because the streetlights were behind both of them.

"I am a little bored," Y/n said, but the look in her eyes told the brunette that she was just teasing, and in all honesty, it felt good to hear someone joke about things again. It's not like either of them had a choice in the matter, it was WWIII after all.

When Hermione got her letter from the Ministry, telling her that she had been drafted, it took her through a loop. She was going to just hide out from the drafting, but when Ron made it his whole personality to become a soldier, that's when she and Harry had no choice in the matter.

They couldn't let him die, especially since he has a remarkable ability to run into danger without even realizing so. This is why they both are now begrudgingly on the front lines and why Hermione was even a part of this useless war.

The muggles were going to win, and that was obvious. Their weapons and sheer numbers were enough to destroy the Wizarding World if they kept losing people at this rate. Thankfully, she had heard rumblings of a plan to retreat and go back into hiding, and that's really the only thing they can do, and hopefully think of a way to make the world forget about them again.

"A little bored? You look as if you're about to jump out of your skin" Hermione laughed as Y/n rolled her eyes, but it was true nonetheless. Anyone would be spooked if they were a stone's throw away from the ones who were perceived to be their enemy.

"So do you" she replied and the brunette nodded in agreement since she knew that she was one loud noise away from booking it.

"You got me there," she said as her eyes shifted to the small pile of snow that lay on the brim of the soldier's hat, she was almost tempted to reach out and brush it away.

"So what brings you back over here anyways?" Y/n finally asks, her head tilting to the side for a moment, it seemed like a force of habit whenever she wanted to know the answer to something that intrigued her. Hermione didn't know the answer, sadly.

"Can't blame me for being bored as well, can you?" She asked in return and Y/n just smiled before scanning her eyes across the multiple tents that littered the street on the enemy front.

"I suppose not, it is a ghost town around here" Y/n mumbled before their eyes met again, and she noticed a faint scent of flowers that invaded her senses, as a howl of wind fluttered Hermione's hair in front of her and the cold air nips passed Y/n's bare face.

"You're a native of this country, correct?" The brunette asked and Y/n nodded, her shoulders relaxing as time went on, and Hermione's grip on her umbrella loosened as well.

It wasn't till the sun began to peak in the sky and the snow stopped, did their conversation finally ended, but they both knew that this wasn't the end of their interactions. It was far, far, from over.

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December 20th

It was the start of Y/n's shift, and when she stepped around the corner to walk towards her post, she was surprised to find a long line of people from around the town. They were talking quietly amongst each other, all facing towards the border with a suitcase or two in their hands.

"Oh, wow" she whispered under her breath as she slowly walked towards the front of the line.

"Y/l/n! Help me with these civilians!" A voice called out, and her eyes darted to find Ryland and a wizard setting up two planks of wood on both sides to help people walk over the border. Y/n quickly jogged over as Ryland nailed the last of the supports into place, before standing up.

"What's going on?" She asked quietly as she was handed a camera and a clipboard filled with the same form to be filled out multiple times. She was about to ask another question, but the younger boy quickly spoke before her.

"I need you to fill in the information on these people before they cross. We need to find them again once this battle is over" he whispered in her ear as the Wizard across the border gave a thumbs up to them when he finished building his side of the ramp.

"Right. Right. Got it" Y/n said as she took a deep breath, taking a pen out from her chest pocket, and stepping towards the little elderly couple just before her. They gave soft smiles, to which she gave one in return.

Hermione was asleep in the tent nearby, she had worked a double shift that night and had only gotten a few words in with Y/n during that whole time. She hated being a liaison sometimes, due to all the communication screenings she had to do when it came to communication between the village's needs and peace negotiations.

Also, the constant snowfall wasn't helping either during her jogs between the radio communications tent and the tent that was filled with higher-ups and their idiotic plans on how they could possibly take control of the town with minimal loss.

Newsflash, that wasn't possible.

"Hey, get up" Hermione somewhat heard as someone gently shook her shoulder, and she immediately snapped her eyes open in fright. She grasped the person's wrist, but then realized it was just Harry.

"Woah, it's just me," he says quickly. She takes a deep breath and pushes his hand off her shoulder, resting back on the cot and staring at the ceiling of the tent. It was dark out, and the only light was the few lamps and small furnaces around the shelter.

"The civilians are being brought over the border, they want you out there to make sure that everything stays calm between the exchanges," Harry says as he leans over to look down at her, she sighs and covers her face in a silent form of frustration.

"Of course, they need my help" she groans quietly before sitting up with a bit of strain. Her back was aching from being on her feet for so long last night, and she honestly just wanted to sleep for a few more hours. She was so drained.

"What time is it?" She grumbles as Harry decides to pour her a hot cup of coffee and hand it to her, then sits on the empty cot across from hers.

"Twenty past six" he replies as he looks at his watch, his eyes following the second hand as it traveled its sixty ticks around the watch face. Hermione's eyes flicker with intrigue before she hides her interest behind the sip of her coffee.

"Alright, I'll be out in a moment" she hums as she stands to freshen up in the women's facilities tent, but Harry's eyes zipped up to her with a small smirk on his face. She knew that look, and she was already rolling her eyes and groaning as he followed after her.

"You want to see your girl, huh?" He whispered in her ear as they walked out the back of the tent, and she scoffed, pulling her winter coat close to her as they shuffled through the snow.

"You are such a child, she just happens to be the only person with any interesting conversation in this place" she replied defensively as Ron ran up behind them, ringing his arms around their neck as he began to walk with them.

"I see your 'lover girl' is helping with the exchange" he chuckles as Harry snickers and pats his stomach as a silent 'hello'. Hermione glared at them both, before shaking off Ron's arm.

"How did you even know about her? You haven't even been here for a day!" She huffs as she steps into the women's facilities, and quickly stops them both from entering with her. She poked her head out from the flaps of the tent and smirked at their grinning faces.

"I swear, you two gossip more than the old bitties at the tea house. Anyway, I've only known her for eight days. Isn't that a little fast to call it love?" She asks as Ron scoffs and leans against Harry's side with his own. Hermione raised an eyebrow at his immediate dismissal.

"I've fallen in love for less. I once dated a girl because I liked the way she said 'Rutabaga'." He says with a nod and Harry thinks for a moment before turning to him with furrowed brows.

"Wait, was that Mandy? I liked her, she made amazing banana bread" he says and Ron looks back at him with eager agreement,

"I know right? I was thinking about calling her once this whole thing is over" he replies, before they both start reminiscing about Ron's ex, and in all honesty, Hermione doesn't even remember who they're talking about. So she just rolled her eyes and slinked away into the tent while they were distracted.

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Y/n yawned softly as she used her torch flashlight to continue to write down all the information about the citizens who were either leaving the country or just going outside of town. She was freezing still, but at least her commander was kind enough to find a coat that had been found in the collection bin. It was just thick enough to protect her from hypothermia, but she was still cold as all hell.

"Name?" She asks a young mother, who had her toddler bundled up on her hip. They both looked exhausted from just waiting in line for so long,

"Ruth Magryn, and Joan Magryn. Joan, wave to the nice soldier" she says with a tired smile as the little girl waves with a small giggle. Y/n grinned and gave the girl a quick tickle to her stomach, which made the kid laugh in excitement and hide her face in her mother's shoulder.

"Hello, Joan. May I know where you two are heading?" Y/n asked as she readied her pen by the 'location' box on the form, but before the mother could respond, a voice called over.

"Y/n!"

Her head snapped behind her, recognizing the voice almost immediately, and she broke out into a small grin when she saw Hermione standing there in a winter coat that looked a little bigger than her. She kinda looks like a kid wearing her parent's coat.

"Ryland, trade spots with me," Y/n said as she watched the young boy help a child over the border, and then immediately run over to take over her post. He took the cupboard and stuttered over his words as he greeted the mom and child.

"Ah, good afternoon Ms.Granger" Y/n said once she was close enough, and Hermione gave a soft laugh as she stepped to the border as well. Formalities? That's new.

"Ms.Granger? Have I done something wrong to be reduced to formalities?" She asks jokingly, even though a part of her brain is slightly panicked about it.

"No, I'm just teasing. How are you? I saw you running around all night yesterday" Y/n asks before she and Hermione help the mother over the border first, with Y/n holding the toddler who looks a little entranced with the soldier.

"Just running useless errands" Hermione sighs before smiling at the mother as she helps her down onto the other side.

"And who is this?" She says with a bit of a laugh as she and Y/n step onto both sides of the ramps, meeting each other in the middle.

Their eyes meet and they fall into a beat of silence as they are now less than an arm's length away. Hermione noticed the snow that was still caught in the crevices of Y/n's jacket, and Y/n noticed how Hermione's hair was slightly damp. She must have just taken a shower.

"Uh...oh! This is Joan" Y/n chuckles as she looks down at the toddler on her hip, before slowly passing the child over to Hermione, who Joan immediately greets her with a little laugh.

Their skin touched, and for only a moment, Y/n's cold fingertips ran against the side of Hermione's hand, and the brunette didn't know if she shivered from the cold or...

No. No! It was cold. This was her enemy, now wasn't the time to play the dating game. She took and deep breath and forced a smile as they both walked back onto their appropriate sides.

"Hello, Joan" Hermione greeted as she playfully shook her little hand before passing the child to her mother's arms. Hermione then pointed to Ron, who stood casually against the wall of a building nearby.

"That is my friend, Ron, he will take you where you need to go," she says before the mother gives a quiet 'thank you' and walks off with her suitcases.

"So, they had you running around all night for useless things? Sounds a bit like a waste of your resources" Y/n says as Hermione steps back towards the edge of the border, her arms crossed over her chest.

"My thoughts exactly" she grumbled before Y/n chuckled to herself, looking over to check on Ryland, who seemed to be as anxious as usual. He really needed to relax, she feared he'd start shaking like a chihuahua soon.

"Hey, can I ask you a completely hypothetical question?" Y/n asks quietly, which causes Hermione to lean in to hear a bit better.

"Let's say, we win the war. What will happen to you....guys? Yeah, you guys" She asks quietly, clearing her throat at the end, before meeting her gaze again. Hermione opened her mouth but shut it just as fast.

What should she say? What CAN she say?

"Well, uh...hypothetically, we'd probably go back into hiding" she whispered, hoping that putting her trust in Y/n won't bite her in the ass in the future.

"Alright, that makes sense...what about you? I'm guessing you'll go home back to London, right?" She asks and Hermione stiffens at the thought of her home, that now laid in ruins. Technically, she had no home to return to.

"No, it's best if I didn't," Hermione says quietly. Y/n furrowed her eyes in confusion, but before she could ask a single question, a large family emerged to be helped across.

That was the end of their conversation for the night, but this particular subject wasn't going to be forgotten.

——————

December 24th

Y/n stood at her post like usual, it was snowing again, but Y/n didn't mind it this time. It was Christmas snow, and it did make up for the lack of people and holiday cheer that was lacking in the town now.

It was only an hour until it was officially Christmas Day, and all this patrolling gave Y/n more than enough time to wallow about missing the holiday season with her family and traditions. Then again, it wasn't all bad.

"Hungry?"

Y/n turned to find Hermione with two plates of food in her hands, both steaming with a feast of actual food. The MRE packets weren't bad, but they weren't the best either since she's been deployed here.

"Hell yes" Y/n sighed in relief as she walked over to the boarder and graciously took the paper plate and plastic fork. Hermione chuckled softly as she leaned against the wall of the building beside them, and began to eat quietly.

"Thank you, you didn't have to get me a plate" Y/n soon says in a quiet tone, but you could still see the smile that she tried to hide by taking a bite off of her plate.

"I wanted to" Hermione replied simply as they ate together in a comfortable silence, maybe only a minute went by before she decided to speak again.

"Have you spoken to your family? With the holidays and all?" Hermione finally asks, watching as the snowflakes melt from the steam before they hit the plate.

"I've gotten a few letters, but I don't really have time to call as much as I wish I could," Y/n says with a small hum as their eyes finally lock together, and Hermione gives a small smile.

"Well, at least you know they're thinking about you," she says and Y/n nodded in agreement, before leaning against the building as well.

"What about you? Has your family called?" The soldier asked.

"Yes, they called me just a bit ago to wish me a Merry Christmas" Hermione said as she poked at her glaze-covered steamed carrots. Y/n noticed the lack of energy in her response and hesitated for a moment.

"And?" She asked, and Hermione sighed softly.

"And...they wished I was home with them, that they didn't agree with what the Wizarding World was doing to their-...our world," she says as she takes another deep breath, since if she didn't control her breathing, she might cry.

"War has no good or bad side. There are only good and bad leaders" Y/n says and Hermione just chuckled to herself. If that wasn't the truth, then she didn't know what it was.

It was quiet again, both of them now almost halfway through their meals, and Hermione felt a bit of courage run across her soul. Which made her stand up slightly, but before she could ask Y/n something, the soldier spoke first.

"A few days ago, you said that you wouldn't return to London, hypothetically. How come?" Y/n asks and Hermione gives a soft laugh at her attempt to 'hide' their questions still. Nobody was even around to eavesdrop on them. But she'll play alone, just for the soldier.

"Well, hypothetically, if you had been a part of the whole battalion that invaded your hometown, would you want to go back?" She asks in return and Y/n's eyes widen before nodding in understanding. Hell, she probably would have been shot before she even crossed the border if she had done that.

"I see your point" she mumbled as there was another string of silence. They both stared back at their food and quietly finished what was left, and soon their empty plates began to catch the snow that fell from the heavens.

Hermione slipped her gloved hand into her pocket, and pulled out a copper pocket watch, popping it open to see that it was now 5 past 12. It was Christmas Day.

"Happy Holidays, Y/n," she says quietly as she shuts the watch and stuffed it back into her pocket. The soldier smiled to herself as she folded up the plate and threw away the grave in a nearby trash can...or a postal box? She couldn't really see that well in the darkness, and snow.

"Happy Holidays, Hermione" Y/n whispers back as she looks up at the cloud-covered sky for a moment, seeing deep purple ripples between the clouds, almost faint enough to miss if you weren't looking.

"Look, would you possibly...want to share a nightcap? With me? It is Christmas, after all," She added, just in case it wasn't obvious that this was a small invitation. To break the rules, just this once. It was a holiday, and she thought that it wouldn't hurt to have a 'Christmas Truce' between them. Hell, if it worked in 1914, then it could work now.

Y/n blinked in surprise before turning back to Hermione, almost missing her completely. If it wasn't for her silhouette, Y/n might have just ended up talking to a wall.

"A nightcap? Here?" She asks in return and Hermione's back tightens as she stands up straight, slowly walking over to the ramps that were still standing as a walkway over the border.

"Well, I was thinking of a tent nearby? If you just stripped your uniform, nobody would notice" she says quietly as her foot hits the side of the ramp, ever so gently. It was honestly a stupid idea, now that she thought about it. It was crazy to think that Y/n would ever willingly put herself in potential danger-

"Well, maybe just one drink" the soldier replied.

Hermione's eyes widened, and just for a split second, her heart was thrown off its rhythm. This is crazy, she thought. Then she cursed at herself silently for repeating what she already knew to be a fact.

"Are you sure?" Hermione asks, just in case the holiday spirit was messing with Y/n's mind as it was hers, but Y/n didn't even pay it any thought. Instead, she hid her jacket and helmet behind the lamppost, leaving in just a tank top and her military pants and boots.

"Hurry, before you freeze" Hermione laughed in a bit of disbelief as she dropped the plastic plate and fork in the snow. In the back of her mind, she felt bad about littering, but she didn't care that much at the moment. She'll pick it up tomorrow.

She held her hand out as Y/n balanced on the snow-covered bridge, their hands clasping together like magnets in the darkness. There was a sense of excitement as Y/n stumbled slightly onto the other side, making Hermione shush her with a small laugh.

Y/n laughed as well as she began to smile, their hands never disconnecting as Hermione pulled her into a small jog, sticking them close to shadows as they weaved through the spaces between the tents. Hermione would peer around corners and pull the soldier quickly once the coast was clear.

As they sneaked past the biggest tent, there was a bunch of people inside singing carols and drinking together. Hermione pressed her free hand to Y/n's chest, before slipping away from her grasp to slip into the tent herself.

Y/n kept herself in the shadows, shivering slightly, since she was still without her thermal coat. Too bad it made her a walking 'I'm your enemy' type since the colors of her country were on it.

Hermione returned a minute or so later, with an open bottle of wine under her arm and two dixie cups. She grasped Y/n's hand again, noting it was colder than before, and subconsciously picked up their pace.

They found a vacant tent, and Hermione sighed in relief since the furnace was still burning inside. Once Y/n stepped inside, it was more obvious how cold she was, the biggest indicator was the bright red nose.

"You look like Rudolph" Hermione chuckled to herself as she watched Y/n from the corner of her eye, who looked at her with a smirk. There was something about it that had Hermione fighting back a grin.

They both sat down on the two chairs near the furnace, Hermione poured some wine into the two cups and passed one to Y/n. Fingers brushed against skin again, but neither said anything about the flutter between them.

"I have to ask, what's it like to use magic?" Y/n asks quietly, since anyone who overheard them, would know she wasn't on their side in an instant.

"Honestly? It makes regular life a whole hell of a lot easier" she admits as she took a sip from her cup, it wasn't her favorite type of wine, but she didn't have many options.

"Must be nice...you mind casting a spell to do my laundry for me?" Y/n asks playfully, which makes Hermione do her quiet laugh, she leans forward slightly before her quick breaths make a few noises come out.

"Sure, after this is all done" she finally replied as she looked back at Y/n who was leaning back against the chair, her sole attention on Hermione. They both got quiet before the brunette found her bearings and took a quick intake of breath before finishing the last of her wine in the dixie cup.

It wasn't long until one nightcap, turned into two...then three. Before eventually the wine was gone, and their cheeks were rosy pink. They weren't drunk, but they were definitely a little more than tipsy. It was the sweet spot for the subconscious to take over while your conscious took the passenger seat, only piping in when they thought about saying something or doing something stupid.

"I can't wait for this whole thing to be over. I want to go back to simplicity" Y/n sighs as she rests her head against the top of the backrest, her hands interlaced flat against her stomach. Hermione sat beside her watching Y/n with a bit more intensity than either noticed, her arm on the top of her backrest and leaning her head against her knuckles.

"It'll be a while until both worlds return to normal" Hermione added and Y/n nodded in agreement, before sitting up fully to look back at her.

"When that happens, do you think you and I could...meet up? Maybe get dinner or something like that?" Y/n asks, and Hermione blinks in surprise, sitting up as well. They stared at one another as the witch fought the urge to pound on her chest as her heart fluttered like she would do to her old TV that would static at her old home all the time.

"Yes! I mean, uh, sure. I would like that." Hermione breathed out as they both leaned their elbows on their knees, faces too close for anyone to see it other than what it was. Pinning. Yearning. Hesitation.

Slowly, they moved closer. Both have a million thoughts running through their heads, but none of their concerns even fostered their movements. Y/n could smell that flowery perfume even better than that one time before, it was subtle. It was made to only be smelt by the wearer or someone close enough to touch her skin. It was addicting.

Hermione eyes fluttered closed as the distance between them was about to disappear, wondering if this was too soon. If the 'maybe' outweighed the risks. If Y/n could be more than a fun thrill.

But it didn't matter.

Because the air raid sirens began to blare.

#harry potter #hermione granger #hermione granger x reader #lesbian #fanfic #fluff

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ecstaticactus · 2 days ago

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Fangs and Flames (Vampire!Aegon Targaryen x Witch!Reader x Vampire!Aemond Targaryen)

Chapter One: The Dinner

Summary: In a world of supernatural creatures, magic is no surprise. In fact, it is what defines you. As a witch, you feel like you have control over your life—until that day arrives. On their 21st birthday, everyone receives a golden envelope. No one knows where it comes from, and no one dares to question it. Inside lies the name of your destined soulmate, the person you’re meant to share the rest of your life with. For most, it’s a moment of wonder. But for you, it’s anything but magical. The moment they entered your life, both Targaryen brothers turned it upside down—though one of them seemed more determined to do so.

Word count: 3k

Chapter warnings: Language, modern AU setting, mentions of sex, Aemond is very much loved, Aegon being a menace

author's note: It's my first time writing a fanfiction and even though I struggled a lot the urge was too strong.. if the story's interesting enough I'd be happy to continue writing it! as you may notice those are not your typical vampires.. they can conceive and well, exist and function like normal human beings! They are immortal, though. feel free to ask questions, I'd love to discuss anything! english is not my first language, so I hope you keep that in mind.. any feedback, writing tip and criticism will be appreciated! hope you enjoy it as much as i've enjoyed writing it (no i was not stressed at all)

You don't know why everyone is making such a big deal out of it. When your mother came into your room and informed you about the dinner with guests coming over, you did not pay much attention to it. You supposed you would wear a pretty dress, put on a smile, make small talk with other ladies, and pretend you were interested in Westerosi politics. It is the routine you had mastered over the years, even if it is something you do not particularly enjoy. You never complain; you know it is your duty and a small price to pay for the privileged life you have.

You are the daughter of the Prime Minister, the most powerful man in Westeros, and you are perfect. You have to be. It's what everyone has been telling you; it's what your parents have been expecting from you since you could remember yourself.

You enjoy the process of maids preparing you. They brush your hair, put scented oils in it, and curl it loosely, just the way you like it. When Mellory pulls out a dress from your closet, you smile and raise an eyebrow. It is stunning; a long dress adorned with dark green stones and deep V neckline, but surely it is extravagant for a dinner. She dismisses your point and assures you it is perfect for the occasion. You trust her judgment, but a question lingers: what makes this evening so different from the others? You can't think of anyone who is worthy of this special welcome.

The dining hall is lined with extra flowers, and you notice candles placed on the table, their soft glow casting a flickering light over the polished silverware. Despite the beaming smile on her face you know your mother is nervous. She is constantly touching her necklace, a habit you often display when you are overwhelmed. The maids seem to share her anxiety, repeatedly adjusting the silverware and ensuring everything is in perfect order. Still, you refrain from asking any questions—you would find out soon enough.

The first person to catch your eye is Alicent Hightower. Her auburn curls cascading down her back always fascinate you, no matter how many times you’d seen them. She compliments your mother's dress and the jewellery adorning her neck. Only then does her brown eyes find you and she lets out a small gasp, grasping both of your hands to tell you how precious you look. You know her kind words does not necessarily mean she is being sincere, but you blush nonetheless. Your father seems to be ecstatic seeing his old friend, Viserys Targaryen. You can't recall the last time you had seen him. He was not present for his youngest son's graduation and his health prevented him from attending lavish parties wealthy people often hosted. Yet, here he is. You suppose this indeed is a special occasion.

You feel someone staring at you and turn to find Aegon Targaryen eyeing you with his arrogant smile. You know him back from the academy, how could you not? It was impossible to ignore all the trouble he caused in your freshman year. Your friend Maria called him a leech, a creature who thrived on other's humiliation and pain. That is only thing firstborn son of Viserys is good at: not missing a chance to embarrass and vex others. He often teased you for a small crush you had on senior Rafe Cameron. There was even a time when Maria almost got into a physical fight with him. You had to pull her back, reminding her he wasn’t worth it. That is true. Everyone knows Aegon Targaryen is useless. He is little more than a waste of space, a burden on the planet. People who have crossed paths with him agree on it, including his parents. Luckily he is few years older than you and graduated before he had a chance to make your life miserable.

You presume the taller man with long hair braided behind his back is Aemond, the heir to the Targaryen dynasty. He studied in Oldtown and you never had a chance to meet him. He is beautiful, even with the scar on his left eye and stoic expression. While your parents entertain their guests, you sit on the couch with Aemond, sipping cherry liqueur and occasionally nodding at whatever he had to say. He is educated and well-mannered, but you can't help feeling bored. He is trying far too hard to appear polite and every time you attempt to steer the conversation toward something more fun, he shuts you down. It's as if he doesn't want you to get to know the real him.

"Oh, stop it brother, she does not give a shit about your philosophy professor" you had nearly forgotten about Aegon until he appeared with a drink in hand and plopped down on the couch beside you. You recall there is another thing he's good at: drinking and whoring around.

"Hold your tongue, Aegon"

"It's fine, really" you smile at younger brother, amused at the direction the conversation had taken "It's not like I think of him as someone whose reputation could be tarnished any more"

"Is that so? Do you think of me often?"

"Only on the rare times I'm feeling blue. I recall there are people more useless than I can ever try to be" you reply calmly, not even looking at him. You are good at pretending, even with the most insufferable people like the Lannisters, but you don't need to when it comes to Aegon Targaryen. Or perhaps you simply can't.

"Aren't you still feisty" he is not affected by your insult at all. It's a game he likes to play. "After all I don't think I'm that useless if the thought of me lifts your spirits. Maybe the thought of me also helps you.. mhm otherwise"

"Aegon" Aemond says his name like a warning or a plea. You can't exactly tell it from the expression he's wearing

"No, let him talk" you squeeze his knee in an attempt to let him know you're alright, that you can handle the white-haired man you're now facing. You don't know when he managed to get his glass refilled, but he's sipping on it with an unbothered face. His blue eyes are fixed on you, challenging you to bite back. "Every time he opens his mouth, I am reminded of how low the bar for wit has fallen"

Aegon chuckles, and just as he’s about to say something, you hear your mother calling your name, signaling that everyone should hurry to take their seats around the dining table. Aegon purposefully sits in front you but you refuse to give him the satisfaction of winning. You do your best to avoid looking at him and maintain a nonchalant look. Instead, you take small bites of your meal, listening to your mother and Alicent discussing the latest charity event. Suddenly, Viserys struggles to rise, barely managing to stand. Everyone falls silent, their eyes fixed on him, waiting to hear his announcement. Everyone except Aegon, whose gaze remains locked on you like you’re the dessert he’s about to devour. His stare, his unfaltering grin is unnerving you. Somehow you take it as a warning that something is about to happen. Something definitely unpleasant to you. You don't listen to Viserys until he mentions your name.

"How fortunate it is to know that gods decided to unite our families" his voice is cheerful, though his hands tremble slightly as he holds a glass of champagne "Your daughter's name has been written alongside my son's where no living man can interfere"

Suddenly all eyes are on you and you feel small. You glance at your mother with helpless look and she offers you a faint smile. Anger rises within you. The Targaryens are robbing you of the magical moment you’d been dreaming of since childhood. Your birthday is only a few months away, you were supposed to find it out yourself.

"Please, forgive me, my sweet girl" he is looking at you and you can sense the sadness in his voice "I know you wanted to see it yourself, everyone does, but.. I'm afraid my health does not allow me to wait any longer"

There is an awkward silence and from the corner of your eye you can see Alicent drop her head low. There was no love between them—not like how a husband and wife should love each other—but there was mutual respect and care. Viserys was a widower and while he experienced happy marriage with his first wife Aemma, Alicent had never been given the chance to marry. She was still a teenager when her betrothed, Criston Cole was murdered by a vampire. You suspected that's why Alicent never seemed to be proud of her powers while other vampires flaunted theirs with arrogance—her sons included.

"I want to see my son with his betrothed while I still have some time. I want to see him fall in love" he says, and then he attempts to laugh "Surely that can excuse my audacity"

"Nonsense, Viserys. I am happy our families will be united" your father stands up and places a reassuring squeeze on his shoulder "I cannot ask for better husband for my daughter"

Surely he cannot be talking about Aegon, but why is he looking at you from across the table like he owns you? You know he can hear your pulse quicken and he smirks at the effect he has on you. You desperately look at Aemond who does not say anything. You cannot tell what he's thinking.

Maybe it's Daeron. He is handsome, sweet and charming. You always got along well and you would not mind falling in love with him. But why isn't he here?

"May we know who the lucky sibling is?" your mother nervously chuckles and you notice that she's fiddling with her necklace. Your fingers instinctively move to your chest to find it empty.

"Aemond"

There. The answer you have been waiting for almost 21 years, but it does not excite you. It does not send shivers down your spine because it was not supposed to happen like this. It was supposed to be magical, like you've read in the books, like you've imagined it.

"May I see the letter?" you ask impatiently, and Aemond stares at you blankly for a few seconds before pulling out the golden envelope from his pocket. You snatch it away from his grasp, and the chair screeches against the floor as you rise to your feet.

"Excuse me" with a forced smile you leave the hall and step onto the terrace. You hold the letter, examining it closely. Across his name is yours, engraved in black ink. You touch it, as if trying to make sure it’s real. It is very much real, and in a few months, you will be married to Aemond Targaryen.

You begin to think about him but how can you judge a person you've known for only an hour? Everyone speaks of him highly, which is why Viserys named him heir, but what is he truly like behind the stoic expression? He’s a puzzle you’re desperately trying to solve, but you only have a few pieces.

"It's cold outside" you hear his voice and turn around to give him the letter. He tucks it into the pocket of his jacket as if it’s nothing—just a piece of paper.

"I've wanted to see it myself. Sorry if I came across as rude, I never thought you were lying"

"You don't have to explain yourself, I understand" you both lean against the railing, looking at the sky without speaking a word. This man next to you is supposed to be your other half, but to you, he's just a stranger.

"How long have you known?"

"More than a year"

"A year?" you don't know why you sound so shocked. Most people have to wait longer. You think of Aegon who is 24 years old, still not married. You wonder who the girl destined to exchange vows with him is "I don't think I could keep that kind of secret"

"I did not exactly have a choice, did I?" You can hear amusement in his voice and you can't help but smile.

Talking to him is awkward, you realize. There are so many questions you want to ask him, but the moment does not quite feel right. This whole situation does not feel right or real for now. You can't help but feel disappointed. You're not sure whether it's because of the circumstances or because the person who's supposed to be yours is Aemond. All you want is to take a long shower, crawl under the bed and pretend this day didn't exist.

The silence is comfortable, and as much as you don’t want to go back inside, it’s truly cold outside. Being the gentleman Aemond is, he wraps his jacket around your shoulders and leads you back inside.

Your parents seem to get along together just fine. Even Alicent is laughing at something your mother said. Viserys calls Aemond over, and when you notice your favorite bottle of cherry liqueur is empty, you make your way to the kitchen. Of course, the maids can bring it to you, but you use it as an excuse to be alone.

You're walking down the stairs with slow steps when you hear the giggling. The young blonde maid, Annabelle, if you recall correctly, is standing dangerously close to Aegon. He is caging her against the wall, whispering softly and despite the fact that she seems to be enjoying his company and it's not really your business, you can’t bring yourself to simply walk past them.

"Is everything alright?" You don't intend to, but you sound a little annoyed. Her smile fades into a frown and she opens her mouth to say something, but only mumbles few words before rushing back into the kitchen.

"Trying to play the hero? She was clearly enjoying herself" though his voice is as serious as ever, you know he’s not angry

"Well, I certainly would not enjoy you two having sex in my house"

"And I certainly do not enjoy you taking all the fun away from me" he is walking towards you, the smell of alcohol lingering on his breath "Keep in mind that just because you're miserable, it doesn't mean I have to be too"

"And who exactly says I'm miserable?"

"Have you looked in the mirror?" his smile is wide, mocking and you feel a strong urge to punch him in the face.

“Ever considered it’s because I’m forced to breathe in the same room with a pathetic creature like yourself?”

"Right, I'm pathetic" he steps even closer, far too close for your comfort, but you do not move "Yet you're standing here, wasting your precious time with me"

"I like to do charity work" satisfied with your response, you swiftly walk past him.

"Then you'll surely enjoy my brother"

His words stop you and you turn around to face him. No matter how little you know about him, Aemond is still your betrothed, and you will not allow anyone to disrespect his name, especially someone like Aegon.

"You truly are pathetic"

"Eh, is that all you can say?"

"About you? Oh, there's so much I can say. Nothing remarkable though" your tone is laced with venom. You’re done with this evening, and with him. "You think insulting your brother will change the fact that you're a complete failure? You think whatever flaws he has make you look better? Grow the fuck up, Aegon. No one thinks of you as anything more than a disgrace to the Targaryen name. You’re nothing. Just flesh and bones. A body, ready to be used and discarded the next day.”

He does not say anything, he does not have to. His pale blue eyes are almost dark and you know you've hit the right spot. Yet, to your surprise, it doesn’t give you the satisfaction you expected. You turn on your heel and move past him, but he pulls your arm back, almost whispering.

"You forget what I'm capable of"

"And what is is that you're capable of? Disappointing me?" he can’t do anything to you, not if he wants to continue roaming the earth, burdened by his own existence. "Have some dignity and let go of me"

"Think you know everything, huh?"

His gaze lingers on your neck, eyes drifting toward your carotid arteries, and you know he wants to taste you—devour you—until you stop screaming, fighting, breathing.

"Have fun putting the pieces of him back together"

You stand like that for a while before he removes his grip from you and resumes drinking whatever he had been holding.

You contemplate it for a while, but on your way to the kitchen you mutter a few words to yourself. Then you hear glass shattering and Aegon cursing your name. A faint smile curls your lips, and the maids glance at you suspiciously.

"I need more cherry liqueur"

They're happy to oblige your request. When you finally go back to the dining hall you don't look at Aegon and his stained shirt. Instead, your attention, like everyone else’s, turns to Viserys, who is frantically coughing. Alicent and Aemond try to help him up. Soon after, they leave, but not before your betrothed kisses the back of your hand and Aegon throws you a disgusted look.

You are laying in the bed, staring at the ceiling. Whatever effect alcohol had on you seemed to wash away under cold shower. You think of Targaryens but it's not Aemond that occupies your thoughts. You think of his brother and what you said to him. A wave of guilt consumes you. Perhaps you were too cruel? Your words were truthful, but they were harsh—even for someone like Aegon. You can’t shake his disgusted expression from your mind, and as sleep finds you, you dream of him.

He is clutching your waist, his hand pressed between your neck and shoulder, while you desperately claw at him, trying to push him away. His grip tightens, and every attempt to escape only seems to encourage him further. Tears stream down your face, and your breath quickens. The last thing you see is his bloodstained mouth. Then everything fades to black.

#aegon targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #aegon x reader #hotd fanfic #aemond fanfiction #aegon fanfiction #aegon targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x you #house of the dragon fanfiction

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little-miss-fandom-freak · 2 days ago

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More Time

(Rick Flag x Fem!Reader/ Rick Flag Sr x Platonic!Reader)

Summary: Rick Flag Sr finally meets his son's fiancée, unfortunately it wasn't the way either it them had imagined it

Warning: MAJOR ANGST!! Talks of drugs, addictions, and stippers as well

Every parent's wish is to be able to watch their child grow into an amazing person and to see them reach this achievement before their passing. No parent should have to attend their child's funeral. Unfortunately for Rick Flag Sr., life had different plans.

He debated all morning on if he even wanted to attend the funeral. No one would have blamed him if he didn't. There wasn't even a body to bury, but he wasn't a coward. So there he was, sitting in the front pew, watching Amanda Waller give her goodbye speech to her best soldier. Many people were whispering about her stoic demeanor, not realizing that this woman hadn't shown emotion in her entire career and wasn't going to start now. Rick had already given his speech, so at this point, he just wanted to leave. And he was about to do so until the pastor approached the stand.

"There is one more person who would like to send their goodbyes to Richard Flag. His lovely fiancée." Rick's eyes flickered to the stand. A younger woman slowly made her way up the stairs. She was shaking, like a scared lamb. Her eyes were puffy and red from the tears she had been shedding all morning, and her voice was tried and sore from her cries. Rick knew his son was supposed to get married before his death, he remembered the day well. Rick Jr was to be deployed to Corto Maltese with his new Task Force. When he mentioned his engagement, Rick was over the moon with joy. Rick Jr wanted his dad to meet the love of his life when he got back from the mission. That day never came.

The woman at the stand let out a shaky breath before her soft voice spoke. "Richard was... an extraordinary man. He was a brave soldier who fought endlessly for our country. He... he would've been, an amazing husband. He cared deeply for everyone around him, he'd give the clothes off of his back if it meant helping someone in need. He put his life on the line for so many people, even for those he didn't know..." She took a moment, choking back a small cry before she continued.

"If there's one thing about Richard that everyone knew, it's that he took pride in his country. He was a true patriot, even till the end... For the longest time I resented that part of him. All of the birthdays, anniversaries, and holidays he missed because he was called in for duty." Rick didn't miss the glare she shot at Waller, who sat near him in the front pews.

"But that was just who he was; fiercely loyal and willing to fight for what he believed was for the betterment of others... but sometimes-" a small cry came from her. She sharply inhaled before continuing, changing the topic before she got too wrapped up in her thoughts. "As realistic as he was at times, Richard always tried to see the best in people. He first person to see me as someone more than my career, someone more than my struggles. He even helped me get back into school. That's why I fell in love with him... but I guess our love wasn't meant for this world. Maybe in another, we make it..."

She turned to the empty coffin and placed a singular rose on top of it. "Goodbye, Richard. My heart dies with you..."

After the ceremony, everyone gathered outside to disscus the location of the wake. Rick decided he wasn't going to attend, he's delt with too much for today. He did, however, wanted to speak to his son's fiancée before he left. When he finally spotted her, she was already getting in her car, likely to head to the wake. Rick sighed, realizing that he didn't have a choice but to attend the wake.

When he got there, the wake had already begun. It was peaceful, but the tone had shifted to a lighter one than the funeral just an hour before. He shifted his way around the community hall, asking around if anyone knew where the girl had gone. He tapped the shoulder of a young woman. "Excuse me, ma'am-"

The woman whipped around. "Ma'am?! I am not that old!" Rick was startled by her appearance.

"Wait, are you Harley Quinn?"

Rick sighed. "I'm his dad."

She chuckled. "Guilty! Now I know what yer thinkin'; "Harley Quinn?! How'd you escape prison?!" Jokes on you, I didn't! The old bitch, Waller, gave me few hours out of the old cell to pay my respects. Who are you? How'd ya know Flag?"

Her cheery, peppy demeanor changed. She shoulders sunk and her smile became one full of sorrow. "Oh... I'm real sorry bout yer loss. Ricky was a good guy... probably the only person who didn't treat me like shit when I was locked up. He even visited a few times, just to check up on me... I'm gonna miss the guy, even if he was a little stuck up" She said with a sorrowful chuckle. "You raised a good man, Mr. Flag."

Rick nodded; he never realized how big of an impact his son had on people. "I'm looking for his fiancee."

"Oh, Y/n? I just saw her, I think she went out back for some air." Rick gave the young woman a pat on the shoulder before he made his way out back

Pushing past the crowd of people, he took a step outside, the fall wind hitting his face as he looked around for Y/n. He spotted her on a bench a little ways down, scrolling through old pictures on her phone.

~~~~

"Man, couldn't take of your hat for a single picture, huh Richard?" You said with a chuckle, scrolling through your gallery just to see your fiance with some kind of baseball cap on in each one.

"My son always did appreciate a decent baseball cap." You turned behind you, standing there was the older man from the funeral. Richard's dad.

"Oh, hi. We haven't met yet." You raised your hand and introduced yourself.

"Rick Sr., I'm glad I can finally put a name to the face." He said as he sat down beside you.

"I can say the same about you. Richard spoke very highly of you. It's unfortunate that we had to meet like this."

"It is..." The two of you stayed silent. You went for you bag and pulled out a small flask. Handing it to Rick, he raised his brow. You shrugged. "I couldn't come sober."

Rick nodded, accepting the flask. "How did you meet my son?" He asked as he wiped his mouth. "He never shared the details. Always said its better to hear in person."

She chuckled softly. "He would say that..." She took a sharp inhale before she spoke. "I was a stipper-"

Rick chocked on the rum inside the flask. She let out a laugh, chuckling as Rick wiped the liquid from his lips. "Don't worry, we didn't meet at a strip club. We actually met at a farmer's market of all places. He was looking for some preservative to bring before he was diployed again, and I was wandering around town before my shift started. I accidentally ran into him and we dropped all of our stuff. We hit it off instantly. I actually skipped my shift to hang out with him, He always called it our "unofficial first date." He didn't consider it an actual date because he didn't pick me up from my house, we didn't go somewhere nice, nor was rither of us dressed in "date attire"... God my life was such a mess before him."

"How so?" Rick asked as he passed the flask. "If you don't mind me asking."

You took a sip and sighed. "Before I met Richard, I was a mess. My job was great, I made good money as a stripper but... I had an addiction. Heroin. He didn't know for months but wheb he found out I was so sure he'd leave me. But he didn't... he stayed. He stayed with me, visited me every day while I was in rehab. He never gave up on me... you raised a good man."

Rick nodded. "That kid... he was something else. He the only good thing in this god forsaken world, the only spark of light in my dimmed out life."

"He was a beacon of light to all. Hell, if it weren't for him, I'd be dead from an overdose by now..." You took a big swing of her flask. "Maybe I was supposed to. Maybe this is karma's way of getting back. Because no one, as wonderful as that man, should've been taken from this world."

Rick saw the anger in your eyes as your grip around the flask tightened. Cautiously, he placed his hand over yours. Your eyes flicked up to him, tears threatening to spill. "Why did he have to be a hero?... Why couldn't he have been a peice of shit like the rest of us? Why'd did he..." a sob escaped your lips. "Why did he leave me?"

Rick pulled you into his chest as the tears and cries left your body. You trembled against him, all of your emotions were pouring out into one motion. The two of you stayed like that for a while, neither of you knew how long but neither of you cared. Finally, someone knew how the other felt. It was refreshing for you; to finally have someone you could cry to without feeling annoying or judged. You didn't have your family; your dad died years ago and your mom practically disowned you because of your career choices. This was the first real comfort you've received in a long time.

~~~~

After the wake, Rick walked you to your car. He hung by the door as you got in. Pulling a pen from his pocket, he gently grabbed your arm and wrote something down.

"My personal and work number. If you ever need anything, call me. Doesn't matter the time or day, I'm here for you kid."

You looked up at him with a wide smile. "God you're gonna make me cry again." The two chuckled as you tried to wipe away the tears. Taking a step out of the car, you gave Rick one last hug before you made your way home.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

This was a a little idea I came up with last night. I read that the VAs in Creature Commandos are going to play their characters irl so I compared Rick Flag Sr and Rick Flag Jr and...

PEAK casting, I applaud who ever did this 👏

#creature commandos x reader #rick flag x reader #rick flag #rick flag sr #rick flag sr x reader #dc comics #dc comics x reader #fanfic

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hamliet · 1 day ago

Note

what do you think of Cherri bomb and Sir Pentious as a ship?

I love them. I think their arcs offer a great contrast and that they will likely end up together.

I think the key to Cherri's character is in the pre-canon song "Addict."

Yeah, you fell in love But you fell deeper in this pit While death rains from above So count your blessings 'cause this is it You're not letting it go So what if I misbehave It's what everybody craves You already know So come if you're feeling brave And fancy yourself a mate You want it, I got it, see what you like? We could have it all by the end of the night Your money and power, my sinful delight A hit of that heaven and hell, a hell of a high

Cherri's addiction is more than a physical drug--it's to the idea of love, but it's never actually love. She knows this as well, but she plays the part of the desperate lover to get what she can (money and power), because "this is it"--ie, it's the best that she can get.

The way Cherri acts is very much in line with this persona she has. As much as everyone may gasp and express shock over her antics, that's really what they crave (and the parallel to how the real world treats women they pin as hypersexual and tsk at as "messy" is certainly deliberate). They don't want Cherri; they want her image.

That's why Cherri is so unamused by Pentious at first. He's no different from the rest, right?

Well, wrong.

Pentious seems to really be driven by the idea of money and power, but in a neat juxtaposition to Cherri with love, he doesn't actually seem to want these things so much as he likes the idea of them. What Sir Pentious seems to actually want is love--of any sort. See:

He created the Egg Boiz ostensibly to help him in his quest to take control in turf wars, but he loves them and weeps when he's supposed to send them away. He becomes incredibly loyal to Charlie and everyone at the hotel after she forgives him, not remotely holding a grudge against Vaggie or Angel even--to the point where he dies to save them.

His death also emphasizes what he pretends he wants vs. what he actually wants. He tries to do a big heroic sacrifice, but... it does nothing. He's snuffed out before he can even strike. But, what he did was love in action, and he did it because he knew the hotel staff loved him too. Essentially, reailzing he is loved helps him to show love. He shows love not just with a sacrifice, but with a kiss and a farewell confession to Cherri--the first hit he's actually made on her that went over well.

Sir Pentious's idea of love also contrasts with Cherri's in that it's neither founded on sex nor repulsed by it. He doesn't really seem to understand most of Angel's nonstop innuendos. At the same time, he expresses sexual interest in Cherri. When he first proposes that he and Cherri have sex, he fails because he says exactly what Cherri's used to:

Cherri: I'm sorry, why would we have sex? Sir Pentious: ...because I'm having sex with everyone!

In other words, he says Cherri's just another face, an idea, no one special. But in the end, when he kisses her, he says this:

Miss Cherri Bomb, I love you. Remember me!

Thereby acknowledging both Cherri as a person whom he actually loves, and his own desires--in other words, loving and expressing that love to Cherri helps Sir Pentious become more fully himself. This is then further emphasized by his rebirth as an angel in heaven.

#ask hamliet #cherri bomb #sir pentious #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel meta #cherrisnake

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wilhelminyard · 2 days ago

Text

compilation of nice/sweet things the foxes said to neil because even though they're a bunch of assholes who insult anyone in their vicinity they all just love him so damn much - except aaron - (part 3) :

ANDREW :

"I said I would keep you alive this year. you make it infinitely more difficult for me when you actively try to get yourself killed."

"the next time someone comes from you, stand down and let me deal with it. do you understand?"

"you were supposed to be a side effect of the drugs" "I'm not a hallucination" "you are a pipe dream."

"what would you give me?" "don't ask questions you already know the answer to"

"this isn't yes. this is a nervous breakdown. I know the difference even if you don't. I won't be like them. I won't let you let me be."

"I've never understood why he likes knives" "he will lose his taste when he has one in his gut"

"kevin is a fool whose style is numbers and angles. formulas and statistics, trial and error, repetition and insanity. all he cares about is finding the perfect game. a junkie like you can't be that cold."

"last summer you made me a promise. I'm asking you to break it." "no." "you said you'd stick with me if I kept kevin south, but kevin doesn't need me anymore. he chose us over the ravens because as a whole we're finally worth his time. there's nothing else I can give you in exchange for your protection." "I will think of something."

"spring break's coming. we could go someplace" "where and why?" "anywhere. anywhere at least three hours from campus. there's no point in going someplace closer than that. it won't feel like a vacation. the only trick is figuring out how to pry kevin away from the court" "I have knives"

"no one's said a word to them since they said we couldn't see you"

"if you tell me to leave I'll go" "you aren't going anywhere"

"I have to go. I don't trust them to give you back."

"ready?" "waiting on you"

"can I really be neil again?" "I told neil to stay. leave nathaniel buried in baltimore with his father."

"andrew could break our deal and let me go or break things off with neil" "he chose neil over you?"

"your close calls are getting old. I thought you knew how to run" "I thought you told me to stop running" "survival tip: no one likes a smart mouth" "except you"

WYMACK :

"I can't believe you trusted david to patch you up" "I was careful with him"

"you're a hundred times better now than you were in may. don't sell yourself short."

"go easy for a few days, would you?"

"are you okay?"

"neil asked us to leave the authorities out of this. I respect him enough to allow that"

"didn't I tell you not to worry about it?"

"I'm making you vice-captain next year"

"didn't you notice? they're uniting around and behind you. that's something special. you're something special."

"look me in the eye and tell me if you think I care who you used to be. hm? I care about who you are right now and who you can be going forward. I'm not asking you to forget your past, but I am telling you to overcome it."

"neil. talk to me. what do you want?"

"giving up on neil now goes against everything we are."

"I'm sorry. I should've told you but I couldn't" "don't worry about that right now."

"we'll wait for you, all right? as long as it takes, neil"

"I should be thanking you. you told us last night you intended to end the year dead or in federal custody. you could have shut everyone and everything out and worried about yourself this year. instead you agreed to help dan fix this team. you're saving the two I thought we couldn't reach, and you're a living example for kevin to follow. he never used to watch you but he's had eyes on you since december trying to figure out how you stand your ground."

"they told me to call them as soon as you returned. have you returned?"

"neil is a critical member of my team. you can ask any person on my line-up and they will all agree : we would not be where we are today if he wasn't here with us."

MATT :

"I want to break his face in six places. if he ever comes within a thousand yards of you again-"

"you okay?" "I'm fine" "for the record, I don't believe you"

"neil? we're here when you want to talk about it"

"neil? you good?"

"we're all legal adults here. we've made our decision. unless he wants to stay with you, you'd better bring neil back to us when you're done with all your questions

"hey, coach made us promise to leave you alone but are you okay?"

"they will get rid of me" "you're not serious"

"things could have gone much worse. I'm glad they didn't. you want anything, you need anything, you let us know. okay?" "okay" "I mean it" "I know. I'm done lying to you, matt. I promise."

"did andrew really choke kevin?" "took three of us to pull him off"

"we can't replace you"

DAN :

"neil? if you want to talk about any of it, or anything, or... you know we're here for you, right? whatever you need."

"kevin knew about this didn't he? he knew what riko was going to do to you and he let you go anyway. the next time I see him-"

"don't do this to us. don't sit here and lie to our faces. we're your friends. we deserve better than that."

"you told the truth. it's not your fault they don't like it."

"are you sure you're okay, neil?"

"go. but come back to us as soon as they're done with you, okay? we'll figure this out as a team."

"you're not playing. you think coach will let you on the court when you look like that? I'll sub in for you, neil. renee can help allison out one more time, right? trust us to hold the line. you focus on healing so we can use you in semifinals."

KEVIN :

"kevin called me yesterday morning when he couldn't get a hold of you. he wanted to make sure you were okay."

NICKY :

"don't you dare tell me you're fine. I can't hear that from you today, okay?"

"you can't have neil. he belongs with us"

"neil isn't a real person. it's just a cover that let nathaniel evade authorities. it's past time to let him go." "neil or nathaniel or whoever. he's ours, and we're not letting him go. you want us to vote on it or something? bet you it'll be unanimous."

"don't worry. andrew will protect you."

"hey, you good?"

ALLISON :

"it would have neen better if you'd come to the store with us. it doesn't matter. I bought out the entire row."

"I'm sorry" "shut up. no you're not. you're not. have you forgotten who has to paint you back together every morning? if you'd let them steamroll you yesterday after all this I would hate you"

"it is not safe for [neil] here anymore and it sure as hell isn't safe for you. it is better for everyone if he disappears." "what part of 'go to hell' do you need us to explain to you?"

RENEE :

"so those knives he brings everywhere are yours?" "were mine. he was right; I don't need them anymore. if you need them, he will give them to you, and I will teach you how to use them"

"if you want to talk more later, you know where to find me"

"will you be all right here?"

"kevin is very analytical whereas you're passionate."

"what do you need from us, neil?"

"I can do it." "I know you can. but perhaps it's easier if someone helps you."

ABBY :

"sometimes I think this job is going to kill me. seeing what people have done, what people continue to do, to my foxes. I wish I could protect you but I'm always too late. all I can do is patch you up afterward and hope for the best. I'm sorry, neil. we should have been there for you"

"let me take a look at you"

"it's over. it's over. you're going to be okay. we've got you."

"I dropped my gear in new york" "andrew found it while he was looking for you"

#aftg #all for the game #neil josten #andrew minyard #andreil #kevin day #david wymack #matt boyd #dan wilds #renee walker #allison reynolds #nicky hemmick #abby winfield #the kings men #psu foxes #the foxes #tfc

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ohbueckers · 54 minutes ago

Text

HEART OF A WOMAN. push the reset button we’re becoming something new.

10, CHAPTER TEN. THE RESET BUTTON.

ju speaks. it’s the end. i want to thank everyone so so so much for supporting this story and seeing through it lol. your comments, reblogs, everything you leave in my inbox�� it all means so much to me despite half of you being upset most of the time (i get it, nai & paige are very insufferable lmao). NOWWW we can discuss bonus chaps! what do we wanna see? requests are also officially open until i start the next series so i’d totally appreciate some of those as well! pairing. paige bueckers x fem!oc. warnings. bittersweet ending?

present day, august 2025.

i leaned against a wall, arms crossed, trying to act like i wasn’t two seconds from pacing a hole into the floor. the gainbridge fieldhouse was sold out—players shouting, sneakers squeaking on the court, a crowd somewhere above us hyped up and ready for the all-star game.

i should’ve been hyped too. this was my moment. the paige bueckers all-star debut. rookie year, voted in, the whole thing. i’d made it, right?

except, instead of soaking it all in, i was standing in this stupid tunnel, staring at the floor like it had answers. the floor wasn’t talking back, obviously, but it was easier to look at than the people walking past.

“it’s p boogers!”

i looked up just in time to see kk bouncing down the tunnel like she owned the place, azzi trailing behind her with an amused look on her face. “bruh.” i groaned, dragging a hand down my face, but i couldn’t stop the grin creeping in. “we’re not doing that today.” kk was decked out in my all-star jersey, two sizes too big on purpose, and azzi had gone with the team-issued merch.

kk is definitely a good cheer-up method, and i know azzi brought her here on purpose. she knows me, that’s for sure.

“nah, we are,” kk shot back, spinning around to show off her jersey. my jersey. “see this? i’m your biggest fan. autographs are fifty bucks, by the way.”

“you mean my autograph?” i deadpanned, pushing off the wall to meet them halfway.

“nah, mine,” she said, smirking. “i make this look good.”

“yeah, right!” i scoffed with a laugh, pulling her into a quick hug before turning to azzi. “y’all are early.”

“yeah, cam said you’d be back here,” azzi replied, tucking her hands into her jacket pockets. her calmness somehow always made me feel like i needed to explain myself, even when i wasn’t doing anything wrong.

“so… you stalking me now?” i asked, raising an eyebrow. i knew where i was supposed to be. they knew where i was supposed to be. probably not by myself so close to tip-off, that’s for sure.

“not stalk,” kk corrected, already grinning. “just… strategically locate.”

“spell strategically.”

“girl—“

she lunges at me, and i flinch, stepping back with a wide grin. “next time, give me a heads-up so i can, like, actually hide!”

azzi rolled her eyes but smiled. “we just wanted to see you before the game started. make sure you’re not pulling a KD and going ghost or something.”

“why would i do that?” i gestured to myself with mock offense. “i’m the picture of composure right now.”

“right,” azzi dragged the word out, smirking like she didn’t buy it for a second. “feels like forever since we’ve watched you play.” and it hit me again—harder this time.

forever. yeah.

i rubbed the back of my neck, forcing another smile. “yeah, it’s been a minute.” she wasn’t asking to dig—she never did—but she was always good at reading between the lines. and in this case, the line was obvious. it hadn’t been that long.

only a minute since they’d seen me. a minute since i’d seen nai.

well, no. i’d seen her. we couldn’t exactly avoid each other. our jobs made sure of that, but i wasn’t sure if it was a good or a bad thing. i mean, seeing her makes it easier, right? gets the pain of it all over with. except it didn’t. it didn’t fill the space that felt empty whenever we weren’t talking. seeing her, hearing her laugh, watching her avoid my eyes at all costs—it didn’t feel the same anymore. there was a wall now. a different circumstance.

we were strangers.

i mean, not really strangers. we could never be that. i still caught myself looking when she walked past. but it was like everything that once made sense between us, everything that came so naturally, had been boxed up and put in storage.

i hate how good i got at pretending it didn’t hurt.

kk didn’t notice, already turning to azzi to ask about grabbing food, but azzi caught the shift, her brows furrowing just enough to make me nervous.

“you good?” she asked, her voice softer now.

i nodded too quick, furrowing my eyebrows like she didn’t have to worry about me. “yeah. fine.”

azzi placed an assuring hand on my shoulder before they walked off, leaving me alone in the tunnel, and just like that, the weight i’d been holding at bay crashed right back down.

i rubbed my chin, huffing and staring down at my shoes. it was stupid to think about her now. stupid to wonder if she was watching or if she even cared.

she wasn’t here. she wasn’t watching.

and i didn’t blame her.

i’m watching the all-star game.

not voluntarily, of course. it happens to be on in yardhouse, and my stupid eyes keep drifting back to this stupid screen.

i pick at my food, dragging my fork around the plate without taking a bite. a couple of my girls from usc—bree, naia… they’re all pretending like they don’t notice, like they don’t hear the cheers or see paige for sure having one of her best games since being in the league right now. they’re avoiding it for my sake, which i appreciate—sort of. it’s just making the air feel heavier.

“hey,” bree tilts her head up in my direction. “you sure about going back to minnesota?”

i glance her, mumbling a, “what?” mid-bite, although i’d heard her perfectly clear.

“the lynx,” she says, gesturing vaguely with her hand. “you’re really gonna go? leave la? what am i supposed to do without my favorite person to drag to runyon canyon at 6am?”

i snort, rolling my eyes. “first of all, i’m not your favorite person. second, i never agreed to runyon canyon. you kidnapped me.”

“it was consensual kidnapping,” she shoots back with a smile, but there’s something softer beneath her all the playfulness, a quiet undertone of, don’t go.

“i’ll miss you guys, obviously,” i say, waving a fry in her direction like it’s a peace offering. “but i’m not doing anything drastic yet. it’s just… something i’m considering.”

naia folds her arms and tilts her head. “considering enough that you’ve already decided to stay with your dad?”

“your dad?” bree cuts in, raising an eyebrow. “you’ve barely mentioned him since college.”

“he’s mellowed out.” i shrug, more defensive than i mean to be. “and it’s temporary. it’s not like i’m moving in with him forever.”

bree pouts dramatically, pushing her glass of soda away as if she’s protesting. “this feels personal. like, what did i do to deserve this? you’re really gonna leave me here with her?” she jabs a thumb toward naia, who glares at her.

“her has a name,” she deadpans.

“and her is not the one moving to the frozen tundra!” bree quips, throwing her hands up. “do you even know how cold minnesota gets? you’re gonna end up as a nai-sicle, and i’m gonna have to fly out and save you.”

bree’s dramatics usually get a laugh out of me, and i lean back in my chair, my hand brushing along the rim of my glass, thinking about what she said—about the tundra, about me leaving.

i love la—God, do i love it. the sunshine, the beaches, the way life feels like it’s always in motion. but now, i’ve convinced myself it’s too loud, too fast. too…paige.

moving back to minnesota was a sudden decision. the kind you make when you’re desperate for air but can’t find any. it wasn’t even on my radar until that night in front of nika’s hotel, paige in the passenger seat, the look in her eyes when she realized she’d completely lost me. i could still feel the weight of her hands on my face. when i told paige she had to let me go, i realized i wasn’t just asking her to stop. i needed to stop too.

the moment she let go of my face and settled into my passenger seat, something shifted in me. it was like the final thread tying me to her snapped, and all i could feel was this overwhelming need to get out.

i told myself the move would give me space to breathe, to find myself again. but the truth is, i made the decision sitting in that car, staring at the road through the rain soaked windshield as the car fell completely silent. it wasn’t logic; it was survival.

i don’t regret ending it. i don’t regret choosing myself. but i hate not having her in my life.

and maybe that’s the real reason i’m thinking about minnesota. it’s not just about starting over—it’s about making sure i don’t get pulled back into something i can’t handle.

bree’s voice pulls me out of my thoughts. “are you seriously not gonna respond? i just said i’d fly to minnesota to save your life. i think i deserve some credit for that.”

i smirk, grabbing a fry from her plate. “you’re so selfless. really, a true hero.”

my eyes drift back to the tv. she’s there again, all 6’0 of her grinning like she doesn’t have a care in the world, like she isn’t the reason i’m about to pack up everything and move back across the country.

yeah. i have to go.

back in indianapolis, the game had wrapped up with team wnba taking the win in one of those ridiculous, down to the wire finishes that made everyone’s heart stop at least three times. it was the kind of game you dream about, the kind that made the crowd stay on their feet, and the rush of the moment admittedly did help me forget about the static in my head.

“man, y’all really got it all figured out, huh?” i said, leaning my head back against the seat of the bus and watching as natasha cloud scrolled through pictures on her phone. she was showing off shots of her and her fiancée from their last vacation, the kind of photos that looked too perfect to be real, the ones you double tapped without a second thought. beaches, sunsets, matching shades—it was all there.

“you’re telling me paige bueckers, the golden child of the league, doesn’t have somebody?” natasha asked, tilting her phone toward me with a smirk. “no way. i don’t believe that for a second.”

i try to play it off with a shrug of my shoulders. “nah, she’s totally lying,” caitlin clark cut in from across the aisle, balancing a bottle of gatorade on her knee. “she was all about this girl back when we were on team usa together in high school. what was her name? nai? nailea?”

the name hit like a quick jab. i kind of set myself up for that one. “i wasn’t all about her,” i said, dragging the words out, like maybe if i said them slow enough, they’d sound believable.

caitlin’s laugh came quick, along with a raise of her eyebrow. “you kinda were, though. you’d bring her up all the time, like, ‘oh, nai likes that’ or ‘nai said this.’ it was cute, in an annoyingly obvious way.”

i tried for a laugh, but landed somewhere closer to a cough. i scoffed as i crossed my arms. “first of all, no. second of all, you’re remembering wrong.”

“am i, though?” caitlin pressed, grinning as she leaned forward. “so, what happened then? you still talk to her?”

i hesitated, clasping my hands together in the large space between my knees. “nah,” i said finally, running a hand down the length of my ponytail. “we don’t really talk anymore.”

it wasn’t technically a lie. but it wasn’t the full truth either.

sparing the details felt like too much—like the quiet “let me go” she’d whispered that night had somehow traveled with me all the way here, stuck in the back of my mind. the words still clung to me, threading through the days i tried not to think about her and the nights when i couldn’t help it.

natasha frowned slightly. “that’s tough.”

i hated that the conversation had shifted here, hated caitlin even more for bringing it up. but i couldn’t blame her. nai was a huge part of my life then, and somehow, even when she’s not supposed to be, she still is.

“wait—so… what happened? did you mess up? or was it, like, one of those timing things?” caitlin asked. she was genuinely curious, i could tell, but the there was still that teasing tinge.

“clark, let it go,” i said, half-laughing, half-praying she’d drop it before i said something i didn’t want to unpack.

“what?” she replied, holding her hands up. “i’m just saying. it sounded serious back then. you don’t talk about someone like that unless they mean something.”

“it was a long time ago,” i muttered.

natasha glanced at me, her eyes narrowing. “so what’s stopping you now?”

“she doesn’t wanna be in my life,” i said with a huff, and it felt good to say it. admit it to myself. “and, uh. i’ont think i’m really her favorite person right now.” i pressed my lips together, staring at the floor like it might open up and swallow me whole. i’ve been doing a lot of that recently.

“so why not keep her around?” natasha said after a moment. “doesn’t have to be all or nothing, you know. sometimes it’s worth it to just… keep people in your life. even if it’s not the way you thought it’d be.”

“amen to that,” one of the vets added, and i chuckled as i thought about it.

friends. that’s what she was implying, and it felt foreign for us. keeping nai in my life, just not as… her. not as the girl i flew out to connecticut every other weekend to make up for my shenanigans, or the girl who sat on the bathroom counter watching me brush my teeth because “it’s boring out there without you.” not as the girl whose voice i memorized like it was a song stuck in my head, or the one whose stupidly perfect smile made me forget my own name sometimes.

nai had never been in my life as “just a friend,” and i didn’t know if i could put her in that box now. how the hell could i pretend like i could compartmentalize every look, every laugh, every piece of her that’s still stuck in my skin like a tattoo i can’t scrub off? it’d be like trying to stuff something infinite into a container that didn’t fit—like ignoring the fact that she’d always meant more to me than that.

i appreciated the advice, i really did. but now her name was in my head again, and i’d probably be thinking about this for the rest of the night.

and maybe they were right. maybe letting her go didn’t mean losing her completely. but the idea of reaching out—of risking another rejection—it was enough to make me freeze. because what if i tried, and it still wasn’t enough?

i was inside the café grabbing our food, trying to juggle everything—drinks, fries, and some half-assed attempt at balancing the trays without spilling everything—when i caught the tail end of their conversation. it didn’t take long to figure out they were talking about nai.

“yes.”

“no.”

“yes!”

“no!”

“God, cam, you’re so stubborn!” rickea’s voice carried through the door, and i could practically hear her throwing her hands up in mock frustration.

“what can i say?” cam’s voice floated as she added, “i’m right.”

“you’re not!” rickea argued, shaking her head. “minnesota’s not even close to having a shot. i’m telling you, they’re just not—“

“well, if nai wants to go back to minnesota,” cam said casually, sipping her drink, “then she’s got a chance. she said something about being closer to her dad, too.”

i froze for a second, my mind stuttering to catch up with her words. nai. minnesota. closer to her dad. it hit harder than i expected, like a brick to the chest. i tried to keep my cool, but everything about it felt wrong. i didn’t know if i was imagining it or if it was the way the air shifted, but something about her tone made it feel like everything had just paused.

“wait, what?” i forced out. i couldn’t have heard that right.

rae’s head snapped over, her eyes going wide. “bro,” she hissed, kicking cam under the table. “she told you not to say anything.” i dropped the tray, sliding in next to her.

cam’s face froze, her lips still wrapped around the straw. “oh, shit,” she mumbled, glancing at me like a deer caught in headlights. “i mean—”

“why’s she moving back?” it was a stupid question, really. i knew why. the timing of it all.

“i mean, it’s her home,” cam muttered, clearly regretting bringing it up. “and, you know, the lynx could be looking for someone with her skill set if she decides to leave la.”

“betraying us for the lynx,” rae added with a fake scowl, clearly trying to lighten the mood. “cold.”

i didn’t laugh. i didn’t even really hear the joke. this was it, wasn’t it? she was leaving. and this time, there wouldn’t be a next time. no more half-hearted calls or texts that went unanswered. no more moments where we found each other in the same room and pretended everything was fine.

i opened my mouth to say something—anything—but the words got stuck. i fucked it up. that’s what i wanted to say. i fucked it up, and now it was too late.

“i mean, it’s her home,” cam muttered, clearly regretting bringing it up. “and, you know, the lynx could be looking for someone with her skill set if she decides to leave la.”

“you good?” cam’s voice was cautious, and her eyes darted between me and the others, like she wasn’t sure if she’d just kicked over a hornet’s nest.

“i don’t know,” i admitted, my voice barely audible. i leaned back in my chair, running a hand over my face, trying to get a grip. it felt like i was teetering on the edge of something i couldn’t name.

“you look like you’re thinking,” rae cut in.

“i am.”

“about what?”

“don’t know.”

rickea, sitting across from me, didn’t even try to sugarcoat it. “about what you’re gonna do?”

“what am i supposed to do?” i shot back. her eyebrows lifted, and i sighed, softening my tone. “she’s done with me. where we stand’s been pretty clear.”

rickea didn’t blink. “you sure about that?”

my stomach flipped. did she know something i didn’t? “what you saying?”

“i’m saying,” she leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table, “that maybe she was gonna talk to you before she made up her mind.”

my breath caught. “what do you mean by was?”

“look,” rickea said carefully, glancing at cam and rae like she was asking for backup. “i’m just saying, nai brought you up the other day. something about wanting to figure things out before… whatever happens next. she didn’t go into details, but it sounded like she wasn’t done with you.”

done with me. i didn’t even know what that meant anymore. but just the thought of it—of her even thinking about figuring things out—was enough for me. i’d take what i could get it.

“so talk to her,” rae urged, nudging my knee under the table like she was trying to get me to snap out of it. “you’re acting like this is already over, and you haven’t even tried.”

cam tilted her head. “and maybe… maybe it doesn’t have to be all or nothing, you know? you could start with just—”

“friends,” i finished bitterly, cutting her off.

she shrugged. “it’s better than nothing,” she tried to comfort. “and if she’s willing to have you in her life at all, then maybe that’s something worth trying for.”

friends. it echoed in my head again, this stupid idea that natasha had already planted. something about it felt so wrong, but at the same time, the thought of letting her go completely was unbearable.

“we’d help,” cam offered with a small smile, nudging rickea. “if you need backup or… whatever.”

“hell yeah,” rae agreed, furrowing her eyebrows like it was a given. “just say the word.”

i exhaled slowly, leaning forward to rest my elbows on my knees. my mind was spinning, looping through all the ways i’d messed things up, all the things i could’ve said or done differently. but none of that mattered now. what mattered was what i did next.

“okay,” i said finally. “how?”

when rickea texted, i almost didn’t answer. the day had been long in that draggy, soul-sucking kind of way where everything felt like a chore. i’d spent most of it staring at my computer, half-heartedly working on a report while fighting the urge to crawl back into bed. by the time the sun dipped below the horizon, i was fully settled on the couch, one leg tucked under me, the other dangling off the edge, a bowl of cereal balanced precariously on my thigh. the idea of getting up, let alone leaving the house, felt like too much effort.

then the second text came in.

rickea: please nai 😫😬😅☹️😣😕😭 (don’t make me beg) 11:23pm

rickea had a way of making me laugh even when i didn’t want to. i stared at my phone for a full minute before sighing and putting the bowl down on the coffee table. cereal wasn’t worth the headache i’d get if i ignored her and she found out.

nai: what’d you forget this time?

her response came almost instantly.

rickea: left something on your desk earlier when i came by. i need it.

vague. no specifics, no explanation, just enough to be mildly suspicious. but i was too tired to argue, so i slipped into my slippers, still in my mismatched pajamas that consisted of a faded hoodie and some loose joggers, and grabbed my keys.

you’re too nice, i thought. the drive over was quiet, the streets still packed to the brim, because this city truly never slept. it was august, and even at night, the air was so suffocatingly thick with heat. my car’s ac sputtered in protest every few minutes, and the radio played low, some random playlist i’d thrown on earlier, the songs fading into the background as my mind wandered.

i didn’t know what i expected when i got to the office. maybe a forgotten laptop charger or a stack of papers rickea couldn’t live without. something small, simple, and annoying enough to make me question why i even bothered.

what i didn’t expect was the glow of my desk lamp spilling out into the otherwise dark room.

i froze in the doorway, my hand still on the knob, my pulse quickening just slightly. i hadn’t left it on earlier, i was sure of it. my first thought was that someone else had come in after me, maybe left it on by mistake. but as my eyes adjusted, i saw the flowers.

some were fresh—bright and colorful, but the others… the others were absolutely done for, their edges browned and curling, their stems drooping under the weight of time.

i knew those flowers. they were my flowers.

they were arranged into a single word, their stems carefully twisted and balanced: friends?

my heart jumped into my throat, and my hands moved over my mouth, my pulse roaring in my ears. i froze, torn between laughing at the absurdity of it and something i didn’t have a name for.

my breath hitched, and for a moment, all i could do was stare. i reached out, my fingers brushing one of the fresher blooms, and my mind raced. there was only one person who would—could—do something like this.

the flowers. the stupid lamp left on. the messy bouquet spelling out a word that felt like both an offering and a question. it was all so… her.

my fingers trembled as i traced the edge of one of the wilted flowers, the brittle petals flaking under my touch. these were the same ones she got me for my birthday, the ones i kept in a mason jar way longer than i should’ve, because throwing them out felt wrong. they looked ridiculous now alongside the fresh ones, but the longer i stared, the more it made sense.

it was us. chaotic, mismatched, and somehow still there. still standing.

“my bad for breaking in. kea helped.”

paige stepped out from a corner in the room, and the movement from my peripheral made me spin around.

“my bad for breaking in. kea helped,” she added, throwing it out there like it was no big deal.

“kea?” i repeated, and it suddenly all made sense in one click.

“yeah.”

“your idea?”

“‘course,” paige replied, shrugging her shoulders as she strolled closer. “couldn’t let you get away without letting you know sum’.”

she strolled forward, her hands stuffed into her hoodie pocket, her sneakers making soft thuds against the carpet. her eyes locked onto mine, unflinching, and even from across the room, i could that whatever she was about to say was worth hearing.

“i know i’m probably the last person you wanna hear from right now. and maybe i deserve that. but i’ve been thinkin’, like, this whole time. about you. about us. and maybe we didn’t always get it right, but i still don’t think we got it wrong.”

my stomach twisted, and i folded my arms across my chest, unsure whether to let her keep talking or shut her down. but she kept going anyway, her words spilling out in a rush, like she had to get them out before i could stop her.

she stopped just in front of me, close enough that i could smell the stupidly familiar cologne on her neck that’d probably been lingering for hours after her shower. her hand fell to her side, fidgeting with the hem of her hoodie.

“i don’t wanna lose you,” she said, and i could hear her trying to hold it together. “not again. and i know—trust me, i know—i can’t undo all the shit i did. but if there’s even a chance, like, any chance, that i can be in your life again… i’m taking it. whatever it looks like. friends, coworkers, random people who wave awkwardly at each other in public—i’ont care. i just… i need you to let me show up. show you i’m capable.”

i chuckled, tearing my eyes away from her. her words held a heavier weight than any of the bullshit we’d tried to ignore before. i stared at her, taking in the way her shoulders slumped just a little, the rawness in her voice, and that damn hope in her eyes. it almost killed me. it did kill me. because, shit, i wanted to say it wasn’t enough. that it was too late. that the cracks were too deep and the damage irreversible.

but that wasn’t true. this was different. an entirely different status that didn’t require any promises or heartbreak.

i still cared. i think i always would. it was in the way i couldn’t throw away that stupid bouquet despite how angry i was that she’d walked out on me that day, the way i thought the only way i could forget about her was moving back to minnesota, which i think would no longer be in the question after this.

because if we did it right this time, there was still a shot.

still a shot.

i moved before i could stop myself, crossing the distance between us and wrapping my arms around her, pulling her into a hug that was too tight to be anything but real. “the reset button, yeah?”

she hesitated at first, but then she let out a breath and hugged me back, her arms feeling like a safe place i hadn’t realized i was missing. she rested her head on my shoulder, a lovable habit. “yeah. ‘s gotta be worth somethin’, right?”

it was worth more than she probably thought.

“who are you and what have you done with paige?” i muttered against her shoulder, a snarky grin tugging at my lips. it was easier to do than admit how much i’d missed this—missed her. wouldn’t be very friendly-like.

she pulled back just enough to look me in the eyes.

“i’m whoever you want me to be.”

#paige bueckers fic #paige bueckers fanfiction #paige bueckers x fem #paige bueckers x oc #wnba x reader #paige bueckers blog #hoaw #wlw fanfic

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sufferu · 2 days ago

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the characters are being way too protective of subaru( and he isnt too self destructive that fate was averted in arc 4 where he grew past that) I feel someone in the camp should flat out say no we know him for longer then you did in between arc 4 and know we had a year to bond with him. subaru isnt self destructive subaru knows what it means to be a knight and what happened in arc 4 shows him growing passed the mindset and pointing out that what you are doing what you are trying to do is damaging his mental health and risking him reverting ( we should not change how we treat subaru ) other then possibly trust what he says more if he were to warn us

…Okay, so, first of all, regressions are almost always a realistic possibility — is what I would say even if this wasn’t the case, but we also have an actual, massive, in-canon example of Subaru actually fully regressing: Arc 8. The existence of Natchuki Subawu is proof enough that Subaru is perfectly capable of regressing in terms of his self-destructive tendencies. And also that line in Arc 5 where he very nearly regresses as he chokes out for Capella to just kill him already. And also his canonical self-harm habit that literally nobody but Beatrice knew about despite the fact that it was continuing throughout the entire year between Arcs 4 and 5. Machines complete levels and are one-and-done, but human psychology is rarely that simple.

On knighthood: unless you are Ferris, being a knight in the world of Re:Zero very explicitly means physically protecting your liege lord. And in the worst case scenario, this means dying in their place. That’s just — the job. Julius even refers to the soldiers dying in the first fight against the Witch Cult as them “fulfilling their duty as knights.” Furthermore, in Arc 8 Priscilla refers to Subaru’s actions as Natchuki Subawu (including All That, and it was A Lot) as him being “a brilliant knight.” If being a knight does not mean being prepared to defend the lives of other people (especially the ones they serve), often at great personal cost — then I have no idea what else the job title is supposed to entail, lol. Emilia does not want Subaru to die for her, and Subaru has mainly internalized his role as her knight as him standing by her side as a loyal confidant — but he HAS still been training to fight for her sake, and I think it’s pretty clear that he’s prepared to die for her sake if need be. —And it REALLY says something that the version of Subaru that gets referred to as “a brilliant knight” is SPECIFICALLY Natchuki Subawu at the end of Arc 8 (or at least, Subaru gets called a brilliant knight in explicit reference to the actions he just took as Natchuki Subawu).

And then — like, how would YOU react to learning that someone you knew had apparently died SEVENTEEN TIMES behind everyone’s backs? And not just learning about it in the abstract, but actively watching it happen? Often in very brutal and nasty ways, sometimes involving torture, sometimes involving people that he now calls some of his dearest friends, sometimes involving him apparently being arguably incapable of recognizing danger on the same level as other people? And also now he has developed a self-harm habit that he has managed to keep almost entirely hidden from the people who were supposed to — and have already pretty much completely failed in — looking out for him? I think being overprotective — especially in the immediate aftermath — is a pretty understandable reaction to something like that.

#now that’s what I call a dogshow #ds!subaru #my inbox #natchuki subawu

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a-cloud-for-dreams · 1 day ago

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CUPID&APPLE HCs DROPPED LET'S GOOOOOOO!!! forgive me as I go and comment on every part of this (most of it incoherent jibber-jabber or squeals)

When Love Changes the Script sounds like it could be an actual episode title you ATE that up

(but never her own self, it seems) I JUST STARTED WHY ARE YOU TRYING TO MAKE ME CRY RN?!?!?!? the cruel irony of the personified version of love never being able to find love for herself is so😔

"This time .... she can see it in her eyes." me losing it when couples can tell how the other is feeling by merely looking into their eyes AAAAAAAAAH

"but there’s something fragile in the way she holds herself with her smile not quite reaching the depth and height of her eyes." stop you captured Apple's character so well here this is LITERALLY APPLECORE!! always masking her true self to appear beautiful, happy, free of flaws, perfect because that's who Snow White is, right?

"her mother doesn't get to control this" and she's literally looking at love incarnate LIKE???

oh hell yeah recap one of the greatest EAH moments ever as you should!! "The scene still lingered in everyone’s minds, even if they tried to hide it" exactly

"After all, if Apple starts doubting herself and her story, then the earth might as well swallow them all!" oh I LOVE this trope the whole "unwavering confident character finds their confidence wavered"

"As if the hues in her iris can reach to the lines under Cupid’s eyes, as if she’s still scared to speak up and hopes Cupid understands her silence. All her life, she knew that a prince would be by her side. That is what she prepared for. She laid it all out, like pieces of a puzzle she already could hold in her hands. And now the pieces were stubborn, refusing to claim their place. They didn’t fit in anymore. She didn’t fit in either" this is just...I have no words I'm SPEECHLESS you captured Apple's inner conflict so well here. How is THE Apple White supposed to live the rest of her life now knowing that everything she's been preparing for was for someone she wasn't???

"Was this truly the life I’ve been waiting for, or have I been waiting for a version of it that never existed" oh Apple....🥺🥺😭😭

"She can pretend it’s just another lesson she needs to master!" APPLE NO DENIAL IS A RIVER IN EGYPT DON'T DO THIS TO YOURSELF!!! Imagine her on her deathbed and her last thoughts are sullied with regret for a life she could have lived. Maybe Raven wasn't so wrong after all...

"So she asks questions — SO many questions — that Cupid almost doesn’t know where to begin" THIS IS SO SWEET AWWW leave it to Apple White to stump THE CA Cupid

THE METAPHOR YOU DESCRIBED WAS SO AMAZING I CAN SEE CUPID USING IT SO VIVIDLY!! God I love Cupid we all need to be friends with a Cupid in our lives

"Exactly! It doesn’t mean the key is wrong, or that the door is wrong. They aren’t a match. That’s all" 🥹🥹

"Maybe that’s why losing Briar had felt so scary, as if losing one of her limbs" oh my gosh tell me that's not how Apple felt

"If Raven was here, she'd probably chuckle. She can almost hear her voice telling her "I told you so!" HELP Raven my bi queen you get it frfr

"Cupid would be so gentle with her, her voice soft and steady, the kind of voice that wraps around you like a warm blanket on a stormy night, the kind that can help lost sailors find their way." Oh this is such a good metaphor she is literally such a comforting spirit 🥺🥺🥺 she deserves everything actually

STOP Tumblr won't let me write out the quote but the idea of Apple gradually forgetting the notebook and starting to tap into her inner self to figure out herself, love??? Now truly focusing on Cupid??? who's cutting onions

"Cupid moves closer, reaching for Apple’s hands, holding them firmly in her own" HOLDING HANDS CALLBACK

"It’s endearing, at first. Then, it’s devastating." Why can't anybody in this show be happy for once

"Cupid feels something shift in her chest. And it shouldn’t because she’s heard her laughter so many times. She could play it on a harp blindfolded. It’s a symphony that has taken over her brain. It shouldn’t, but it does" this is just *chef's kiss* there's no better way to describe it I read that whole part like 😲

WORDS AS A SACRED PRAYER TROPE I REPEAT WORDS AS A SACRED PLAYER TROPE!!

"Chariclo Arganthone Cupid has fallen in love with Apple White." gotta quickly shoutout who beautiful Cupid's full name is. Also AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH

"This is Apple White, of course everyone is drawn to her!" that face card NEVER declines!!

"But ……. Cupid can lie all she wants, but love is what she was born for, and she knows it too well." oh this hurts me we ALL know how this will end

"how she would smile as if she was the happiest girl in the world, how she would reach for her hands excitedly. But none of her rehearsed responses seem to fit now that it’s real. None of them are able to escape from her lips...And as she says it, she can feel her own heart being ripped into pieces. She could swear an arrow of her own just pierced her soul...She watches Apple leave the room, taking Cupid’s heart with her." I'm going to fight someone for th-- HEY GET THAT CAMERA OUT OF MY FACE I'M NOT CRYING S-SHUT UP THE THEMATIC IRONY JUST GOT TO ME OKAY?

"And she tells herself it’s alright, it will be alright. After all, this pain isn’t foreign to her. Chariclo Arganthone Cupid was born for love, but love wasn’t raised for her." JB when I find you....

"Cupid has mastered the art of hiding her pain." girl same imfao

"And maybe, one day, someone will teach her the kind of love she’s always given to everyone else. It is not the ending she wanted, but it is hers. And she learns to hold it gently, the way she wishes someone would hold her." I hate everyone and everything why would you do this to me

TLDR: I guess I am legally obligated to make a CupidApple (RedArrow??) playlist and fanfic now

When Love Changes the Script (my eah headcanon)

or — Cupid teaches Apple that love takes many forms, and an arrow always finds its true target.

Cupid, the daughter of Eros, is known for her wisdom about all things Love. Whether it’s answering questions about complicated feelings on her podcast or guiding someone toward their happily ever after (but never her own self, it seems) or finding the best gift for Heart's Day, Cupid is the person people turn to when they don’t know where else to go! Who else could do it like her? Who else can achieve it if not her? Love is her calling and she is more than happy to help you!

And she does it all with a smile that makes you feel so welcome !! Even when love seems to play a cruel joke on her by slipping away from her own hands.

ᢉ𐭩 — ✦ . ⁺ 　

So truly, she should not be surprised when Apple White knocks at her door, seeking help.

She is used to undoing the knots in people’s hearts, enlightening their darkened worries, but who would’ve thought that THE Apple White would come to her? And sure, she did seek her help once, but it was about Ashlynn’s relationship.

Back then, she was agitated not about her own self but for the sake of her dearest friend.

This time .... she can see it in her eyes.

She’s here for herself.

The Apple White, who has spent her entire life chasing perfection and destiny, who’s stood with a high head and fought for what she believed in, who has made so many hearts rise with envy in front of her composure, is now standing at Cupid’s doorstep, looking lost.

It almost feels surreal.

But it’s true.

ᢉ𐭩 — ✦ . ⁺ 　

So Cupid immediately invites her in.

Thankfully, Blondie isn’t there -- away on some top secret mission to find out about the validity of some rumours she’s heard. She has to get the scoop just right, she had said while excitedly getting ready.

When Apple steps inside, she’s as pristine as always — with every strand of hair in place, locks falling down like pieces into place, her cape immaculate, a shade of red adorning her lips, her sweet perfume clinging to her skin as if it was a privilege to adorn her — but there’s something fragile in the way she holds herself with her smile not quite reaching the depth and height of her eyes.

It’s the weight of uncertainty, Cupid realizes, a weight she knows all too well.

Apple admits to her that she needs help.

Her voice is low, as if she still can't admit it to herself.

The words feel unfamiliar, almost treacherous. Her mother's voice rings in her head, but she pushes it away. Not this, Apple thinks to herself. Her mother doesn't get to control this.

Cupid recognizes it very easily. The worry in the blonde's eyes seems to travel from her face to her shaking hands. But she made the first step, and that in itself is the biggest prize she could win. (Cupid tells her that with a smile.)

ᢉ𐭩 — ✦ . ⁺ 　

Cupid know what it is about, of course she does. Everyone saw how Daring’s kiss didn’t wake up Apple. They had all held their breath, waiting for the sacred moment that would’ve sealed their oh-so-yearned happy ever after.

This was it, the moment Apple would get what she wanted!

And yet, everyone got first row tickets to her biggest nightmare: the moment in which their desired future shattered, like a mirror laughing back at them.

And instead of Daring, it was Darling’s lips that brought Apple back.

True Love’s kiss — what a cruel thing, deceiving everyone into believing one thing, only to unveil the truth when a sea of eyes dared to hope.

The scene still lingered in everyone’s minds, even if they tried to hide it.

Nobody wanted to question Apple, but the question was right on their tongue, threatening to spill whenever they saw her.

“What now?”,

except this time, the question was evicted from Apple’s lips.

ᢉ𐭩 — ✦ . ⁺ 　

The thing is, Apple White isn’t the kind of person who doubts herself, not openly, not like this.

This sight felt like a joke, perhaps another one of Kitty’s pranks, an elaborate one with magic!

After all, if Apple starts doubting herself and her story, then the earth might as well swallow them all!

For as long as anyone could remember, Apple had been obsessed with her story, with her destiny, with her future role.

It is what defined her, what she had built her entire life around. Apple didn't waver; she didn't question. She planned, she prepared, she perfected, she embodied. If you fail to plan, you plan to fail — and Apple vowed to never end on that route.

She embodies royalty, she embodies perfection, she embodies her fate.

She’s everything Headmaster Grimm could ask for. If the Storybook of Legends could possess someone, it would be her.

ᢉ𐭩 — ✦ . ⁺ 　

But now here she is, her hands shaking as she looks at Cupid, as if her eyes could speak to hers, in a language only they can transverse. As if the hues in her iris can reach to the lines under Cupid’s eyes, as if she’s still scared to speak up and hopes Cupid understands her silence.

All her life, she knew that a prince would be by her side. That is what she prepared for. She laid it all out, like pieces of a puzzle she already could hold in her hands.

And now the pieces were stubborn, refusing to claim their place.

They didn’t fit in anymore.

She didn’t fit in either.

So the pieces turned their back on her and began a new imagery.

And she wondered, what were all those years for?

At times, being with Daring had been more an act of fulfilling duty than something she truly wanted. After all, this was the prince, the future king, with whom she would finally achieve her sweet desired ending. She would be poisoned, he’d wake her up, and her kingdom would finally be hers! She would reign, listening to her subjects, and Daring would make her laugh and … all the other things that came with love. She never truly thought about that part. They had forever ever after for those thoughts.

But now … how was she even supposed to face him?

Would they remain friends now? Were they ever friends?

Would their friendship, or perhaps lack of, change anything?

Could they move on, pretend like it never happened?

Apple knew the answer was no.

ᢉ𐭩 — ✦ . ⁺ 　

So she asks Cupid, "Was this truly the life I’ve been waiting for, or have I been waiting for a version of it that never existed?"

She stands up nervously, pacing around the room, now visibly shaking, allowing her true emotions to reign in her body, materializing in the way her face falls apart, fear finally presenting itself.

ᢉ𐭩 — ✦ . ⁺ 　

But at the same time, Apple is known for wanting to address things head-on. She isn’t the type to sit and let her thoughts fester. No, she’s outspoken, direct, the kind of person who believes in action rather than sitting down and drowning in worries. (Perhaps it’s another privilege of being the daughter of the Snow White—a woman who carved out her happily ever after with unwavering determination.)

So, of course, Apple almost treats this like a lesson. Maybe this is to protect herself. She can pretend it’s just another lesson she needs to master! She’s going to get the answers to all of her doubts and she’s going to know all hues and actions needed. It’s almost a coping mechanism. For a few minutes she can pretend this isn’t her real life, maybe it’s a dilemma in a theatrical play, or perhaps someone else is feeling what she is, so she’s gotta help them! This isn’t about her, obviously it isn’t!

So she asks questions — SO many questions — that Cupid almost doesn’t know where to begin. "How do I know for sure?" / "What does it mean if I feel this way?" / "Does it make me… wrong?" / "No story ever had this before, right?" / "Am I not going to get my happy ever after?" / "What do I do with … this destiny?" / "Was this always fated?" / "So why didn’t I notice?"

It’s earnest, vulnerable, and so utterly Apple that Cupid can’t help but feel a pang of something bittersweet.

Apple’s perfectionist tendencies bleed into every corner of her life, even her confusion. Whether it’s a flaw or a skill, it’s up to the reader.

ᢉ𐭩 — ✦ . ⁺ 　

Cupid quietly introduces her to the concept of comphet.

She doesn’t use the term outrightly though, so as to not scare Apple.

So instead she uses metaphors, "sometimes, we are handed a script. We read it and we assume that role. Even if it doesn’t fit us, we still try. We want to play the part to the best because we think we owe it to someone."

"Like trying on the wrong glass slipper?", Apple replies.

Cupid chuckles, "Yes! Imagine you’re handed the key to a new dorm — well, you switched with Maddie, right? So think that you got the key, and you put it in, you try and twist it, but it doesn’t open. The issue though isn’t the key, right? The key itself is right — it’s shiny, shaped the right way, and it feels right. The problem is the door. You can try and twist it as much as you want, but it will not open."

"So…. I’m not the issue? I just .. got the wrong door?"

Cupid smiles, taking Apple’s hands, as if the mere proximity can calm the blonde’s heart. "Exactly! It doesn’t mean the key is wrong, or that the door is wrong. They aren’t a match. That’s all."

She takes a deep breath and looks exactly into Apple’s bright blue irises’ horizon. "You’re not wrong, Apple. You’re not a faulted object, nor a fraud. What you’re feeling is completely right. You haven’t realized it because you tried so hard to be perfect, or the version of perfect that everyone wanted from you, that you suppressed all that you felt."

She can feel Apple’s hands shaking as she says "… So what do I do?" and it sounds so heartbreakingly lost that Cupid’s heart seems to drown in her pain.

"...Cupid...I don’t know who I am, if not the role given to me."

"You can still achieve your destiny, it simply looks different from what you planned. A long road — our lives — is always meant to change. You don’t have to be anyone else. You have to be yourself, for that is the girl who is going to achieve all that she desires."

ᢉ𐭩 — ✦ . ⁺ 　

And at the same time, perhaps pieces are falling into place.

Maybe that’s why hanging around Darling was easier, why her laughter seemed to seep into Apple’s chest, warming places she had never realized were cold.

Maybe that’s why losing Briar had felt so scary, as if losing one of her limbs.

Maybe that’s why she never felt like that around Daring, no matter how hard she tried or how often she told herself it would come with time.

And now she realizes, she doesn’t have to force herself to feel that way because she, like everyone else, DOES have a choice. It’s ironic, truly, considering how ardently she fought against it.

and it’s TERRIFYING, because who is she if not that role, that label? She's not her own person, she's literally named APPLE. They are all just wearer of their roles in this society, actors on the stage of fate — but what happens when you want to get off the stage and rewrite your own lines?

If Raven was here, she'd probably chuckle. She can almost hear her voice telling her "I told you so!".

ᢉ𐭩 — ✦ . ⁺ 　

Cupid would be so gentle with her, her voice soft and steady, the kind of voice that wraps around you like a warm blanket on a stormy night, the kind that can help lost sailors find their way. That was how Apple felt — as if lost at sea. She tells Apple it’s okay to feel confused. That it’s okay not to have all the answers, not to immediately understand her feelings or her sexuality. That it’s okay to be unsure, to take her time. That she isn’t the first, and will not be the last to feel like this.

ᢉ𐭩 — ✦ . ⁺ 　

"You don’t owe anyone anything, Apple," Cupid would say, a stark contrast to the conditioning Apple has carried all her life. Her crown of thorns would slowly start dissipating.

Cupid would share stories — small, tender moments she’s witnessed or experienced herself. Maybe, if she’s feeling daring, even a glimpse of her time in Monster High, though she carefully avoids saying too much about the school itself. Instead, she talks about the universality of love, how it comes in countless forms and hues, how it can surprise even someone like her, who should know everything about it. Love is all encompassing, an action, something you can try and hide from, but it will find you when you least expect it. It sees the ashes in your heart and the thorns around your ribcage, and it is not scared.

ᢉ𐭩 — ✦ . ⁺ 　

At some point, Apple would have probably taken out her notebook. She’s known to keep lists and categorize everything. She would treat it like the lesson of her lifetime. She would be jotting down questions, observations and little scraps of thoughts that flit across her mind. Sure, she is freaking out, but nothing will stop her perfectionism from shining through again.

But as the conversation deepens, as Cupid’s words resonate more and more, undoing the knots in Apple’s chest, the notebook would quietly fall to the side, forgotten in the corner, and with that, so would Apple’s concept of the world.

ᢉ𐭩 — ✦ . ⁺ 　

It is clear that Apple feels even more shaken now, so Cupid moves closer, reaching for Apple’s hands, holding them firmly in her own. Her grip is warm and grounding, and when she speaks, her voice carries the kind of certainty that makes you believe it’s true, even if you don’t yet feel it.

Apple’s lip trembles, and she looks down at their joined hands, a single tear slipping down her cheek. Cupid doesn’t let go, doesn’t move. She simply stays, her thumbs brushing over Apple’s knuckles.

"Thank you," Apple says quietly. "For… for listening. For understanding."

Cupid smiles, "Always."

"Can I.. come again if I need help?", she asks. Cupid nods, "Of course!"

The waves in Apple's heart slow down a little after this interaction.

ᢉ𐭩 — ✦ . ⁺ 　

And so, over time, they meet again. It’s always either in Cupid’s room (when Blondie isn’t present) or in Apple’s — anywhere else feels not enough for these sacred conversations, not deep enough to hold the truth Apple is slowly reaching for. They tried to meet in the gardens outside once, but it quickly felt too suffocating, so they decided to regularly meet in their rooms.

ᢉ𐭩 — ✦ . ⁺ 　

At first, Cupid treats it like any other guidance she’s given: professional, purposeful, with all the wisdom she’s gathered from years of untangling hearts. She lays it all down, slowly and carefully, and explains it.

But Apple… Apple is different.

Apple shows up with the same precision she applies to every part of her life. There’s a determination in her, an eagerness to get it right. She brings notebooks, pens, color-coded questions. She has lists, she marks down her words, she highlights what she thinks is most important.

She says it helps her concentrate.

She leans in too close when Cupid speaks, her bright blue eyes wide, her brows furrowed in concentration. She leans her head on Cupid’s shoulders when she feels too overwhelmed, and she squeezes her hands in excitement when discussing their days.

It’s endearing, at first.

Then, it’s devastating.

ᢉ𐭩 — ✦ . ⁺ 　

Because Cupid realizes that Apple doesn’t just listen to her words; she absorbs them, as if her words are water and she is a sponge. Every reassurance, every gentle truth Cupid offers, Apple takes them in as if they’re lifelines. Apple starts to smile more in these moments, the kind of smile that lights up her face in a way Cupid knows she shouldn’t find herself staring at for too long. The kind of smile you can’t help but desire to frame into your eyelids, so as to never spend a day without it.

Her red lips have become the latest interrupter of her nights.

And then there’s the laughter.

It begins slowly — awkward little chuckles when Apple catches herself overthinking or stumbling over her words, as if she’s making a mistake when asking completely normal questions. Then it grows, freer and louder as Apple relaxes, as she trusts Cupid more. She notices it in the way her shoulders relax, in the way she allows her eyes to close for minutes at times while thinking. The first time Apple laughs, really laughs in her presence, Cupid feels something shift in her chest. And it shouldn’t because she’s heard her laughter so many times. She could play it on a harp blindfolded. It’s a symphony that has taken over her brain. It shouldn’t, but it does.

It’s in the small things, too: the way Apple tucks her hair behind her ear while she’s listening intently, the way she hugs a pillow to her chest while sitting cross-legged on the bed. The way she pauses after Cupid says something profound, repeating it softly to herself, as if to make it real.

As if her words are a prayer, sacred.

ᢉ𐭩 — ✦ . ⁺ 　

Cupid realizes she is in trouble when Apple thanks her one day, cheeks flushed and eyes gazing directly into hers, and her chest tightens, in a way that makes her want to run.

She feels it at that moment — the all too familiar ache of love seeping into her bones, flowing from her arms to her legs, almost making her stumble.

Chariclo Arganthone Cupid has fallen in love with Apple White.

And it’s terrifying.

ᢉ𐭩 — ✦ . ⁺ 　

She questions herself – maybe she’s making it up. They’ve been spending so much time together, of course she feels something! It’s just their endless talks about love that have clouded her mind. Of course all of her extremely detailed ramblings and explanations have accidentally seeped into her own heart. This is Apple White, of course everyone is drawn to her!

ᢉ𐭩 — ✦ . ⁺ 　

But ……. Cupid can lie all she wants, but love is what she was born for, and she knows it too well.

Apple deserves clarity and she doesn’t deserve Cupid’s mess.

So she bites her tongue every time they meet. When long afternoons stretch into nights, and words threaten to spill from the soundbox of her chest, she holds the poison of her love trapped inside her ribcage. She ignores the way her heart starts racing when Apple takes her hands, running from their room to the Cafeteria to get the cake that — in Apple’s words — she absolutely has to try. Cupid doesn’t say it, but she would trade all the sweetness of this world to feel Apple’s love.

And when the laughter dies down, when the cake is gone and Apple’s hands have left hers, Cupid drowns in Apple’s ghost.

She could feel it in the silence, how her heart longed to be evicted from her chest and run, run till it found Apple’s.

But it can’t.

It’s not fair.

ᢉ𐭩 — ✦ . ⁺ 　

And one night, as they are sitting on Apple’s bed, a scenery Cupid has gotten used to, Apple admits it out loud – "I think I like Darling. As more than a friend, I mean. And before you ask, this is not another Daring situation where I think I HAVE to like her because of … our fate. I think – No, I know that you were right."

Cupid’s heart stutters, but her expression remains steady. She’s practiced this a thousand times in her head — what she would say when this moment came, how her face would twist into the right expression, how she would smile as if she was the happiest girl in the world, how she would reach for her hands excitedly. But none of her rehearsed responses seem to fit now that it’s real. None of them are able to escape from her lips. So she nods and musters up a smile, "That is wonderful Apple! If Darling makes you feel like your story is yours, if she makes your heart feel cradled and your joy enlarged, then go for it!". And as she says it, she can feel her own heart being ripped into pieces.

She could swear an arrow of her own just pierced her soul.

How ironic.

ᢉ𐭩 — ✦ . ⁺ 　

When Apple hugs her, thanking her endlessly for her support and wisdom, Cupid lets her hands linger just a second longer before pulling away, her eyes tracing her silhouette as if for the last time.

She watches Apple leave the room, taking Cupid’s heart with her. She can barely call it her own at this point. But it will never know the tenderness of the blonde beauty’s love.

And she tells herself it’s alright, it will be alright. After all, this pain isn’t foreign to her.

Chariclo Arganthone Cupid was born for love, but love wasn’t raised for her.

ᢉ𐭩 — ✦ . ⁺ 　

The memories she clings to like a lost sailor ….. Cupid tries to let them go, but her mind tortures her incessantly and interminably with the little moments she shared with Apple — the way Apple’s face would light up during their talks, the way she’d laugh a little too hard at Cupid’s jokes, the way her hand lingered a second longer than necessary when she reached for Cupid’s and the way she would rest her chin on her shoulder as if it could help her hide from the world and her own self. Was it real? Was any of it real? She doesn’t know what would hurt more: the possibility that it wasn’t or the thought that it was, just not enough.

She doesn’t cry where anyone can see: Cupid has mastered the art of hiding her pain.

She greets Apple the next day like nothing’s wrong, nodding encouragingly when Apple gushes about her plans to talk to Darling. "You’re going to be amazing", she says, her voice steady, her eyes bright. She excuses herself a few minutes later, saying she has work to do.

She doesn’t. She just can’t breathe.

ᢉ𐭩 — ✦ . ⁺ 　

When finally, one day, she sees the two of them together, Apple holding onto Darling’s hands the way she used to with Cupid, she knows it’s over. And she reprimands herself. It never even began, so how can it be over? And if it’s over, why is her heart still writing, demanding for more? Aching to be read by the only person who seems to transverse in its language.

She wishes she could turn it off, shut it away, locked in the tallest of secluded towers where nobody could reach for it.

She wishes she wasn’t Cupid, the embodiment of love. How can she stand up in front of everyone and declare that love is worth it, when it feels like a luxury she can never reach?

ᢉ𐭩 — ✦ . ⁺ 　

As days go on, even as the pain lingers, unlike Apple’s presence, Cupid straightens her shoulders. She tells herself it’s alright, but that she needs to move on. She might not get to keep love, but she gets to create it, to inspire it, to watch it bloom in others. She might not have been able to be part of Apple’s love story, but she helped writing it. And that should be enough. One day it will be enough.

And maybe, one day, someone will teach her the kind of love she’s always given to everyone else.

It is not the ending she wanted, but it is hers. And she learns to hold it gently, the way she wishes someone would hold her.

Author’s Note: omg hi! I have been working on this for almost two months now. it is my first and probably last eah piece. I am very unfamiliar with how to write both Cupid and Apple so I hope this is not too OOC. I guess this story is a quiet ode to the beauty of love, the ache of an untouched arrow, and the joy of watching others bloom in love’s light. may it remind you that love, in all its forms, finds its way to the heart meant to hold it. the love that you give will always find its way back to you. love in its truest form is never wasted, even if it hurts you and makes you feel dismantled. and you never lose love when you give it to someone; instead, you set it free. it travels, it grows, and in time, it always finds its way back to you, often in ways you least expect. thank you so much for mira and void for listening to my rants about this headcanon, and to my friend fungi for even giving me the idea in the first place !! I didn’t specifically listen to this song when I was writing but I feel like it fits the overall topic of the headcanon <3

#oh wow. oh wowwww. oh WO-*dies metaphorically* they own me now oops! i must preciously hold them forever. you knew what you #were doing adding that Halsey song in there....#mir's musings 💬#ever after high #spotify #apple white #ca cupid #apple x cupid 💘#daring charming #darling charming #this is one of my favorite things now there are not enough words to express how PERFECT this is. such a good balance of angst and fluff i-

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dykedvonte · 1 month ago

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I think the most baffling thing about the Tulpar as a vessel to me is the fact that the ship really did only have a one way communication system.

I know it was cheap but even the most basic of vessels regarding major transport would have some way, shape or form for outside communication. Not only that but there was absolutely no form of innate emergency signal to show they may have been offline or in trouble despite clearly having a system to dock credits if they went off course. It's another factor that really shows that bad situations are made to get worse by design. One person who is required to relay all information to the crew and make all the choices without feedback. No way to update or call for help in case of a dire situation. No way to inform of inner personal conflicts and acquire procedures accordingly.

It really is like they are all in some sort of fucked up solitary confinement. They have their own world with strict roles that are meaningless in the end, as long as the cargo makes it, it doesn't matter what happens on that ship to the company. They don't want to hear anything and will come to conclusions on what happened based on how much pay they can withhold from the workers. Even what they do send is short, sterile and corporate to the extent it was likely written and sent out with a command by some random unmanned computer in an office.

There's something to be said about how unfair it is to force absolute power and control onto one person when you as an entity could do so much more to offload it but I've said it many times before so I won't again.

#its just like idk i dont think Curly was a bad captain because we only have this scenerio and I certainly dont think a man like Swansea #would like him or have very little issues with him specifically if he was incompentent or too lienent in the past but I do think the stress #was making him worse and worse as being a present leader as it dawned on him how much he actually had to handle like I really think he #just wanted to do yknow normal captain pilot stuff and fly the ship and yknow the little stuff like make sure things run right and over tim #the constant stress and strain of having to make every major choice started to grate on him and freak him out cause they cant even fucking #eat unless he pulls out the scanner and starts cooking like he has to choose the meal likely or have a vote and i make that part of the #reason he seems so indecisive and inactive is the fact he has to make the choice all the time and he's hoping he can at least make the crew #feel a little more in control of themselves as people by staying out of affairs like the game or disputes because god he literally has to #choose for them all the time like thats a lot of responsibility monitering their sleep their breaks food consumption thats all on him like #it really should be another persons job entirely as thats almost like absoulte contrl over the lives of everyone else that PE forces onto #that title and its also crazy how everyone accepts it even if they dont like it like they broke the food machine open rather than get the #scanner they all waited two months before Jimmy appointed himself leader its so scary how conditioned they all are to the environemnt #cause that sort of mindset is sadly real where people just wait everyone just waited until it was getting real dire and then they still #followed Jimmy without too many complaints like i saw a fic or post where Anya acknowledges they all kinda just let Jimmy do what they want #because he became the captain and it was stupid on all their parts cause they could clearly see how bad he was and yet he was captain so #they just fell in line to their roles and thats a bigger point towards how PE treated them and the complacency capitalism brings to you #just like something that irks me because idk I know Curly is slow to act but he's not as like unopinionated as people make him out to be #like he does try to find solutions but they are still restricted at the end of the day by what PE provides them and I think his biggest c #crime is being in his own head too much and not giving Anya that emotional stability cause like idk man was he supposed to go to Home Depot #himself and install like padlocks? even if the let Anya sleep in medical after she pointed it out she was already pregnant at that point #like we arent seeing the inherent issue that no one not even Anya herself was thinking of the preventative measures because a)there was a #point nothing was happening that necessitated them b) it would've been the responsibility of PE to address them pre and post incident and c #there is only one person on the entire ship given the authority to do anything. You can not make multiple important choices in one instance #in such little time and Curly should not have had that total power like i think the most interesting thing in takes that really blame Curly #is that level of control they give him over the company. Like again i think about the three days we miss between the eval/party and the #convo/crash like i think people switch them around as if those scenes happen in succession when they are broken up and its heavily implied #Curly and Jimmy just havent been talking vs the depiction that she told him and for like three days Curly was just chummy despite the fact #Jimmy and him just had a blow out fight like the next time we assume they talk is during the crash sequence cause he honestly hangs #around Anya more which i think is really important because she trust Curly to defend her himself but not his judgement to give her somethin #to defend herself as she knows he believes her but also knows she's not seeing the danger the same and its heartbreaking and more

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ineffablefool · 6 months ago

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How the hell is all this acrylic paint that I bought for a class I signed up for in 2004 (not a typo) still wet?

#ineffablefool original post #not good omens #i didn't *take* the class because i dropped it after a couple weeks #it was a hands-on art class where everyone could wander around and chat while they worked and play music on the lil boombox etc #UNLESS you crossed over into Too Much Wandering Around Chatting territory in which case the instructor's actual stated official policy #was to take points off your grade for it #without telling you he was doing so #everyone was just supposed to Know where the line was and there would be no feedback by which we might adjust our behavior along the way #which NOOOO THANKS i was not interested in that kind of nightmare for 3 hours every Thursday or whatever it was #but i'd already bought the supplies #which can apparently keep just fine for twenty years #(i am pondering maybe making some paste paper #because i bought some fancy paper for endpapers but none of it really goes with the book i'm binding #and i read that you just need acrylic paint and the patience to stir boiled starch #which i might not have the latter but i do somehow still have the former)#ineffablefool mentions bookbinding

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synonymroll648 · 1 year ago

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absolutely evil fic idea! sophitz soulmates au where post-war they reconcile but also find out that fitz won't make it to 100 due to the severity of his shadowflux echoes and the reason sophie kept surviving seemingly impossible odds was because the black swan 'accidentally' made her immortal.

to make things extra cruel: consider how fitz canonically counts on having thousands of years ahead of him to build himself a future he enjoys, and how sophie canonically struggles w/ the idea of living forever due to her human upbringing (plus the canon-compliant possibility of her hearing ten bajillion tales growing up of how immortality is a curse) :D

#i love love love soulmate au's. usually for the fluff. but this. this...#this intrigues me conceptually so much that i think exploring it would be worth the pain #i have way too many wips rn to write this. but #that doesn't mean i can't share it w/ you guys :)#i just keep thinking of how the tables of 'fitz comforting sophie about living forever because he'll be there' will flip #and it could flip in SO many ways #it could be sophie comforting fitz about death being inevitable because she grew up around death #and knows that death can be a well deserved (fairly) happy ending if fate is kind enough and you play your cards right #but it could also be them being so so so openly envious of each other's lifespans #like we could have a screaming match in the dead of night where fitz is like #how the FUCK is it fair that we both have echoes but I'M the only one that's doomed to die young because of them? how the HELL do you have #ANY right to speak on this? on how i should deal w/ having THOUSANDS OF YEARS RIPPED OUT OF MY HANDS?#and sophie's like well i don't know fitz! how the FUCK is it fair that you're the one that gets to have a finish line? how the HELL am i #supposed to be happy about NEVER getting to stop? about ALWAYS having to be the moonlark? about INEVITABLY LOSING EVERYONE I LOVE BECAUSE #THEY'LL BE DEAD?#honestly you could have both. you SHOULD have both. imo. hurt/comfort babyyyyy #also. if you want. you can have this be a thing where the immortal falls in love w/ the same soul again #but fitz never comes back as an elf. always something mortal #also when fitz dies. having a throwback to the search and having one of them go 'fuck time. fuck death. i'll find you again and again'#less 'death cannot do us apart' and more 'death can only separate us temporarily'#also. sophie having to watch fitz deteriorate from the golden boy she knew to barely hanging on to life. and fitz having to deal w/#sophie never changing in any physical way #don't you love feeling sad guys? angsty if you will? /t #sophitz #sophie foster #fitz vacker #kotlc #keeper of the lost cities #kotlc fic idea #sophitz fic idea

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saetoru · 1 year ago

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✩ ‧₊˚ ✩ how long does it take to fuck your brother's best friend? (four whole days)

synopsis. suguru comes home to visit from college at the same time you do—except he brings satoru along. this is going to be a long break

word count. 8.5k (i am tired of this tomfoolery)

contents. college! au, brother's best friend! satoru, fem! reader, minors do not interact, three-year age gap (you're both early twenties), slightly mean satoru (when you’re kids), slight enemies to lovers, jealous! satoru, mentions of reader having an ex-bf, male masturbation, satoru is taller + carries reader, cunnilingus, fingering, handjobs, unprotected sex, brief mentions of alcohol (satoru), creampie, pet names (baby + sweetheart), not proofread i could not be bothered i’m sorry

notes. this was not supposed to be this long bye i am embarrassingly down bad for the blue-eyed freak

everyone knows that where there is satoru, there is suguru—and likewise, where there is suguru, there is satoru.

they’re a bit of a packaged deal, really. satoru befriends your brother in what you think must be some twisted stroke of luck—there is no way suguru would lower his standards for some rich bastard who’s had life made for him since the day he was born. but apparently, he does, and you’re stuck with a white-haired nuisance in your house at least once a week. for years.

you’ve known satoru since he was a whiny, snot-faced, and spoiled little brat. back then, he used to call you toothless—you were six, it’s normal for children at the age of six to lose a few teeth. just because satoru is nine and has grown his teeth back doesn’t mean he escaped the toothless phase himself—but satoru is just a jerk like that, pushes your buttons, and calls out your insecurities to get a good laugh.

you don’t smile with your mouth open even once around him that summer, not until suguru assures you that regardless of how many teeth you have, you have a lovely smile.

when you’re twelve, puberty does its thing, and now you’re stuck with acne-prone skin—also a normal occurrence for people your age, but satoru makes sure to point out the giant pimple on your forehead every time he sees you. you make sure to let him know his haircut is as awful as his sense of style, and suguru tries his best not to choke himself with his charger as you both bicker.

satoru is gone that entire summer for a family cruise that you’re sure costs double your house—he comes back frighteningly taller than you remember him within the span of just a few weeks.

it’s been like that since you were kids. he comes over, finds a new thing to pick on through his smug grins and smooth chuckles, and you fume as you bite back with just as snarky rebuttals. he makes sure to never cross the line of going too far—it’s more for suguru’s sake, you’re fairly sure—but stays right on the dot of getting just under your skin.

he’s annoying. a jerk. a rich snob. a privileged dickhead. he’s rude and disrespectful, with no tact, let alone any semblance of respect. you don’t understand what could possibly make suguru want to hang around such a douchebag, but suguru cares about satoru—and satoru has always been there for your brother.

you don’t understand it, but you respect it. as long as he doesn’t wet your entire bathroom sink and mirror in the mornings after he stays over, you suppose you can coexist.

but you haven’t seen him in ages—not outside of suguru’s instagram stories and posts. it’s been a long few years since the two of them have left for college, and by the time you leave too, life has its funny way of working, and, well…you don’t bump into him anymore. it doesn’t occur to you that satoru is not the same guy you used to know until you come back home to visit after your second year of college.

“suguru,” you call, “i borrowed your hoodie. but you can have it back—”

you cut yourself off when you open the door to your brother’s room, and lo and behold, stands a very shirtless gojo satoru, the white-haired and blue-eyed asshole you’ve had to deal with since childhood. except he’s way taller than you remember him—just how much does this guy grow, exactly? his shoulders are broader and….and since when did he have abs? there’s a small tattoo just under his collarbone—when did he even get that? his hair is also longer, just enough to fall over his forehead and curtain those striking blue eyes of his.

he looks…well, handsome. very handsome, in fact. dangerously handsome that it catches you by surprise as you blink.

he’s still shirtless, holding his t-shirt in his hands as he grins.

“hey, toothless,” he greets, voice deeper than the last time you heard it—but it still sounds relatively the same. you think you’d always recognize satoru’s voice, whether you’d like to or not. and, of course, he just has to still use that ridiculous nickname after all these years. “long time no see.”

“i have all my teeth now—i have for a long time, y’know. and put a shirt on, you freak,” you huff, rolling your eyes, “where’s suguru?”

“what, you don’t enjoy the view?” he motions at his bare torso, like the shameless bastard he is, “most girls love this view—”

“and yet, you’re still single,” you cut him off, staring at him pointedly.

he grins impossibly wider, tugging his shirt over his body swiftly—you have to exercise all ounces of control not to gulp as you watch his biceps flex.

“keepin’ track of my love life?” he wiggles his brows, “i know older men can be appealing but have a little class. your poor brother would lose his shit if you went after his best friend—”

“satoru,” you sigh, pinching your nose, “do you age backward or something? how are you still this obnoxious after so long?”

“i practice in the mirror,” he winks, “it’s my charm.”

“that’s hardly charming,” you roll your eyes, “anyway, whenever suguru comes back, let him know i left his hoodie, yeah?”

“sure,” he chuckles.

and then you close the door as you leave—right before you stop, pause, and open it up again as you’re sticking your head back in when you make a shocking realization.

“wait, how long are you here for?” you ask, eyes wide.

he has the audacity to look smug as he taps his chin and pretends to think—“oh, y’know. just the rest of break. my old man took my mom on some trip, so i’m killing time here,” he shrugs.

great. lovely. wonderful. just what you needed.

you wish he’d drop dead—maybe suguru will finally be forced to go outside of his one-man circle and actually befriend some respectable people.

“you can’t just stay at your place?” you hiss, “it’s certainly big enough.”

“well, why be lonely in an empty home when we can have fun here?” he hums, “consider yourself lucky—you get to be housemates with me for a—”

“keep to yourself,” you warn, cutting him off again through narrowed eyes and a dangerous glare—satoru only looks more amused, raising his hands up in surrender.

with that, you turn again and almost shut the door when he calls for you—“hey, toothless,” he says lowly, making you pause before turning to him with a raised brow. he smiles—it’s so unlike that usual smirk of his…somehow this one is a bit gentler as he murmurs, “you look good. grew up well, y’know.”

you blink. you’re not ready for that…didn’t expect a compliment from gojo satoru himself—especially not after all this time of throwing mediocre insults your way.

you decide he must be messing with you, so you purse your lips as you click your teeth in irritation. “yeah, sure,” you say dryly.

you can hear his chuckles as you close the door again—this is going to be a long break.

—————

just as expected, the house is simply not big enough for you and satoru.

the first time you run into him happens to be first thing after waking up—you’re walking up to the door just as he twists the knob and opens it, walking out shirtless. again.

this time, however, he’s got beads of water rolling down his skin from his shower, right between his pecs, as a towel hangs around his shoulders. you can see his tattoo from up close now, a small infinity sign right under his collarbone that contrasts against his pale skin.

how tacky, you think—just as you’d expect, even his choice of tattoos is questionable.

his hair is wet—it’s sticking to his forehead instead of the multiple directions it usually scatters around in that messy way it always does. you’ve only felt satoru’s hair once—when you were fifteen, and you’d hit him in the back of the head as you walked past him at the breakfast table. he’d made a jab at your dark circles. tests were around the corner, and unlike satoru, your grades actually mattered. you didn’t expect his hair to be so soft, but it is, and you almost itch to twirl the strands around your fingers for a quick feel.

instead, you scowl and stomp off to your room as soon as your dishes are washed.

his hair is probably just as soft now—maybe even softer now that he actually probably cares to look after it. you’ve heard suguru grumble about using two-in-one shampoo too many times when he comes back from spending the night at satoru’s. for a second, your fingers twitch to reach up and brush through a few strands on his forehead—just to feel them because they look soft. nothing else.

the urge is quickly killed as soon as he opens his mouth, however.

“oh, hey there, roomie,” he grins, “you’re really doing all you can to catch me half naked, huh?”

“don’t flatter yourself,” you grumble.

“i’m just sayin’,” he chuckles, “that’s twice now. if you ask nicely, i might walk around like this just for you.”

it’s way too early for this.

by early, it’s actually late noon. now that finals aren’t killing your free time, you stay up until ungodly hours to catch up with your social life—and it doesn’t help that you can hear satoru and suguru stay up playing video games the next room over, either. suguru is probably still sleeping.

that’s a bit of a shocker, in fact—usually, it’s satoru that has to be dragged out of your brother’s room to have breakfast (or brunch, really) before the kitchen is cleared up. why satoru is up first is beyond you.

maybe it’s just a cruel way for the universe to enjoy watching more of your veins pop.

“does that apply to asking you to leave? because then i suppose i can ask rather politely.”

he grins, eyes sparkling with amusement as he shoots you that smile with those pearly whites that irritate you to no end. you’re not sure why, but something about his smile looks so much different nowadays—something about it just seems so….mature.

that’s a word you didn’t think you’d ever use to describe satoru.

“mm, not quite,” he hums, “you’re still stuck with me.”

“whatever,” you mutter, rolling your eyes. “move, i want to shower before suguru wakes up.”

“you have time,” he steps to the side, letting you enter the bathroom, “he’s probably not waking up anytime soon—woah.”

satoru’s shirt is on the floor—why, you may ask? because he’s an annoying idiot who doesn’t have to clean up after himself when people have always been around to do it for him. he never has to care to aim and toss his clothes into the hamper because the maids will pick up after him anyway. old habits die hard, you suppose—you’ve listened to suguru complain about satoru’s messiness not improving even after being his roommate for the last few years. it’s never been your problem, but you don’t appreciate it now that you’re slipping over the fabric on the tiled floor, falling backwards with a squeal.

but satoru’s quick—he catches you with those strong arms of his and wraps them tightly around you, keeping you securely in place as he steadies you against his chest.

his bare chest, in fact.

you can feel the slight dampness seeping into your shirt, and you can feel his hot breath on your neck as he exhales in relief once he makes sure you’re safe. you almost shiver—almost, but you manage to scrape together enough self-control to stay painfully still in his grasp.

“you okay?” he murmurs gently, voice a low whisper against your skin. there’s no bite to his words. no amusement or teasing or even smugness. it’s genuine, the way he checks on you.

this is…new. very, very new.

“yeah,” you breathe, letting out a sharp breath. and then—“maybe keep your clothes in the fucking hamper next time, though.”

“sorry,” the smile in his voice is almost audible—you can’t see it from where you are, but you can hear it in his voice. you roll your eyes, and satoru makes no move to loosen his arms around you. for some reason, you don’t move.

you’re not sure why, but you just don’t.

“you’re still just as messy, huh?” you roll your eyes—he laughs, and it’s a smooth, boyish chuckle that almost makes you wonder for a moment if this is why girls seem to love satoru so much despite his god-awful personality.

it’s a pretty beautiful sound—you hate that you have to admit that to yourself.

“yeah,” he admits, “it drives suguru nuts.”

“yeah, i can’t imagine why,” you snort. it’s like that for a moment—satoru’s muscled arms around you and hard chest pressed against your back. finally, you clear your throat. “you can let go now, you know.”

“right,” he mumbles, slowly pulling away—and when you turn to face him….is that disappointment? on his face? you don’t get a chance to be sure because then he’s bending down to pick up his shirt before he’s standing—he’s already wiped the expression from his features completely by then. “sorry about that, toothless. i’ll keep my shirts off the floor next time.”

“that would be so kind of you,” you smile sarcastically.

and then you shut the door in his face and exhale as you lean against the wall.

this is going to be a longer break than you thought.

—————

the next time you run into him, it’s late at night. everyone is asleep—even your brother and his headache of a best friend, if the silence tells you anything. you can’t sleep, though, so you make your way to the kitchen to hunt for snacks. you’re skimming through the pantry before your eyes land on a surprise—a box of strawberry pocky sits nice and enticingly, right there for you to open and devour.

you grin, reaching over when—

“those are mine,” satoru calls, stepping into the kitchen, “brought them over myself. you should ask before touching people’s things.”

“you literally ate my leftovers the other night,” you say incredulously.

“those were yours? i thought they were suguru’s.” he raises a brow in surprise, making you click your teeth in irritation.

“the principle of asking still applies,” you purse your lips. and then defiantly, you open the box and grab a pack right before his eyes.

he scowls—but you know he doesn’t actually mind because he waits for you to finish grabbing yours before taking the box and grabbing his own pack and a coke from the fridge. you both take a seat at the kitchen table, across from each other, as you open the packaging and silently eat your newfound snack.

it’s satoru who breaks the silence first.

“do you still throw away the ends of these?”

you huff indignantly, not meeting his eyes as you take a bite off the strawberry-covered end, stopping at just where the cookie portion is uncoated. “yes. i’m eating these for the coating—not the bland biscuit part.”

“what’re you, five?” he snickers, earning a glare from you. defiantly, you pop the end of the pocky stick into your mouth just to prove a point—and then the look of distaste makes him cackle louder.

“shut up,” you hiss, “you talk too much.”

“the ladies love it when i do,” he bats his lashes—you stare at him blankly, unimpressed.

“yeah, as if.”

“hey, my ex-girlfriend totally did,” he defends.

ex-girlfriend? that’s a bit of a shocker—you didn’t know satoru dated anyone in the last few years, you haven’t seen or heard anything of it through suguru’s end. in all realness, you didn’t even think satoru was the boyfriend type…but then again, he’s not really the anything type. he just kind of exists to take up space and be the bane of your existence.

“i hope the poor girl is recovering well after dating you,” you shake your head, feigning a concerned look on your face that makes him roll his eyes—they’re still disturbingly bright even in the dark kitchen, dimly lit by the slightest bit of moonlight pouring in through the small window.

“i dated her freshman and sophomore year,” he says casually. you also didn’t expect that—that it lasted that long. something about satoru doesn’t strike you as the long-term relationship kind of guy. something about him doesn’t seem like the relationship kind of guy at all. not because he’s the type to mess around casually, but because he seems the type to seem disinterested all around—he’s snobby like that. “she was…alright, i guess.”

yeah. very snobby.

“you are such a sick bastard,” you spit.

he snorts, taking a bite of his pocky as he shakes his head in amusement. you’re as feisty as ever—it’s always fun riling you up, even if unintentionally.

“hey, it’s not like she was bad. she was just…well, she wasn’t interested in me like that either,” he shrugs, “i think it was just the sex. it was good, can’t lie there.”

“you’re so gross,” you roll your eyes, “have some decorum.”

“what, you’re still sixteen?” he raises a brow, lips curling into a smirk as he reaches for another pocky, “can’t say the word s-e-x?”

“i don’t broadcast my sexual activities out in the open,” you shrug.

satoru chuckles, taking a bite that more or less finishes the entire stick in one go before he presses a finger to his lips, “shh. don’t say that too loud—suguru will come chase you from his room if he hears.”

“suguru,” you groan, “he’s such a pain to have around sometimes. y’know i dated this one guy last year. i think suguru might’ve paid him to dump me.”

“i know. he definitely thought about it,” satoru hums, “he used to go off about it all the time. he was right, though—that guy was a total prick.”

something about you is mildly shocked that satoru knows about your private life—sure, it’s not outrageous or even the slightest bit unlikely that suguru mentions you. satoru and suguru are best friends, and you happen to be suguru’s sister—of course, suguru is bound to mention you here and there. it’s just the fact that satoru even pays attention to anything to do with you that surprises you—although you suppose it would be a good way for him to find his next source to push your buttons.

“i’m not surprised you think he’s a prick,” you nod, “it takes one to know one, after all.”

“oh yeah?” he snorts, waving you off, “i do, in fact remember anniversaries, y’know.”

“okay,” you sigh, defeated—your ex-boyfriend is admittedly not at the top of the list of your brightest choices. not even up halfway on the list. in fact, he’s so low on the list of good choices you’ve made, that willingly choosing to interact with satoru feels like an exceptional decision in comparison. and that’s saying something. “he was pretty bad. but he was really hot. when a guy looks like that, his values are the least of my worries.”

it’s a joke—you’re sure he knows that. but satoru takes a long sip from his coke, silent for a moment. you don’t think you’ve ever seen him so serious, especially so suddenly.

“he can’t be that hot,” he mutters.

“oh he was really hot. probably the hottest guy i’ve ever talked to—” satoru bites his pocky a bit aggressively at that, “and he was so tall. maybe taller than you—how tall are you again? anyway, he was pretty enough to overlook his shortcomings.”

“he’s probably not taller than me,” he grumbles, frowning. you snort—men and their fragile little egos, you think in amusement.

“he was,” you tease, “he was so tall, i’d let him do whatever he wanted.”

“that’s a terrible way to look at it,” he scrunches his brows, “you shouldn’t let some guy walk all over you because he’s tall and his face is a bit easy on the eyes—”

“i know you’re not talking—”

“i’m serious,” he cuts you off. something about him reminds you of suguru for a moment—like he cares who you’re with because he has a reason to. as if you mean something to him, as if knowing someone who doesn’t deserve you has you in their palms is upsetting.

but then you shake the thought out of your head—satoru doesn’t care. he’s never had a reason to, and you don’t exactly plan to give him one, either.

“okay, dad,” you roll your eyes, “i learned my lesson. i have standards now.”

“good,” he nods—and then, as if to keep himself in character, he adds, “because i don’t want to help suguru kill someone, and it’s over something lame like forgetting his little sister’s anniversary. i’d like to go to jail for something more badass.”

“you and badass don’t belong in the same sentence,” you raise a brow. “let’s be realistic.”

“oh yeah? that’s rich coming from—”

“guys, it is five in the morning,” suguru grumbles, throwing a water bottle at satoru’s head. you glance at the kitchen entrance, eyeing a half-asleep and very irritable suguru as he crosses his arms, “can’t you idiots fight over who’s more of a loser at reasonable hours? some of us like to sleep.”

“want one?” you offer your pack of pocky, holding it out to him.

suguru blinks, contemplating for a second before sighing and trudging over.

“yeah,” he mutters, flicking your forehead. “gimme that.”

you watch woefully as suguru takes the entirety of your pack, swiftly sitting next to satoru and leaving you empty-handed. satoru snickers obnoxiously at the deflated look on your face—and then he holds out his pack to you.

you look between him and the pack for a moment before giving him a genuine smile. it’s a rare sight—he drinks it in as you carefully take one and bicker over something with suguru.

you’re pretty when you smile, he thinks—pretty enough that if you had horrible values (which you don’t), he might feel inclined to understand your (awful) reasoning for a moment.

and then he blinks and shakes the thoughts out of his head—it’s going to be a long break.

—————

satoru meets you when you’re six.

he’s nine at the time, and he feels on top of the world knowing he’s three whole years older than you—in hindsight, three years is not a very large gap, but to nine-year-old him, it feels like centuries. he’s remembered you as the fun little drama queen that’s too easy to poke fun at for years—that’s all you’ve always been: suguru’s younger sister who puffs her cheeks out and scowls way too often to be normal, the girl that’s way too easy to tease than should be standard.

somehow, he wasn’t expecting for you to come back so grown…and so hot. suddenly, it really hits him that you’re not a kid—have not really been for a long time now. he’s always treated you like you’re way younger than he is, way too little to be in his presence and be worthy of it—but you’ve really become a fine young woman.

a magnetizing one, in fact.

it’s now his third night at your house—your parents are as lovely and welcoming as ever, and suguru is always a good time to be around. but somehow, satoru is not satisfied. not anywhere near sated by the few, minimal moments of contact with you.

when did you get so pretty? although, as much as satoru has always liked to poke fun at you, you’ve never been ugly. not even a little—but you’ve grown into your features better, outgrown the awkward teenage era of your life, and now present yourself with a newfound confidence that just looks…so good. satoru doesn’t see his best friend's kid sister anymore—no, there’s something so alluring about you now.

the nail on the coffin that solidifies he’s officially screwed is when you mention your ex-boyfriend—why would your dating life make him this irrationally angry? why is the thought of someone being on the receiving end of your praise (and shameless heart-eyes) so aggravating for him?

he doesn’t know—but what he does know is that the raging boner has been killing him all morning ever since he woke up from…well, less than proper dreams about you.

so now he’s here, forehead pressed against your shower wall as the hot water hits his back, swollen cock in his fist as he thumbs at the tip, teasing the slit just the way he likes. he thinks about you—how he’d show you what makes him feel good, how you’d probably learn fast and take care of him just the way he needs.

your hand would look so much daintier compared to his—smaller, but he’s sure it would still feel infinitely better.

he bites his lip, fighting back a moan as he strokes himself slowly, pre cum smeared along the length of his hard, aching cock—red and angry at the tip, leaking with more pre cum no matter how many times his thumb collects every drop.

“f-fuck—” he breathes, and his voice lets out a shaky, breathy little call of your name—he’s screwed if anyone hears it. he’s sure you and suguru will both band together to kill him, but thankfully, the words are lost in the sound of the shower running. “fuck baby,” he says hoarsely, voice cracking ever so slightly as he whines.

it’s soft and quiet, the noises he makes—careful and deliberately hushed to make sure no one hears the improper way he’s thinking of you right now. but fuck, your tits are so pretty when you walk out of your room in a t-shirt in the mornings—he can just tell you’re not wearing a bra. he can’t stop thinking about it, can’t stop trying to picture what they’d look like uncovered and bouncing.

“jus’ like that, baby,” he pants, whimpering softly as he squeezes around his tip, teasing himself with that slow, painful pace of his.

satoru is sure that if it were you, that if the hand stroking his cock right now was yours, you would never let him cum so easily—you’d drag it out just like this, pump him slowly and twist your hand around him in a pace that’s painfully not enough before ever thinking about letting him come undone.

it’s just the way that you are—never ready to back down from a challenge, unwilling to go down without a fight. but he loves it, he thinks—lives for the way you keep him on his toes and work for the satisfaction.

“more,” he gasps, “n-need more—gimme more, sweetheart.”

he imagines it—the way you’d kiss his jaw, maybe even the corner of his mouth, as you hum. say please, toru, you’d probably say—and fuck, he’d kill to hear you say toru.

“please,” he rasps, “please, baby. d-don’t tease.”

he can practically hear your light giggles, the sweet, okay, baby. no more teasing, that you might whisper. he’d also kill to hear you call him baby—he’s almost nauseous at the idea that some other guy must’ve heard the pet name from your lips before him. and then he lets himself pump his erection faster, squeezing tighter as his thighs quiver while he stands in the shower.

fuck—you feel so good. you’re not even here, but he’s sure you do, and he’s desperate to envision it. it practically hurts—the way he’s so hard and swollen and ready to release. just for you, he wants to tell you, he’s going to cum all for you.

“baby,” he whimpers, “‘m so, so close—fuck ‘m gonna cum. ‘s for you—gonna cum for you—ngh, sh-shit.”

and then there’s cum on the tile walls, on his hands, on his abs as they flex with every labored breath. satoru cums—hard. his eyes are squeezed shut, lips parted with a silent cry as he pants and strokes himself through his high. you’d kiss him, he likes to think, on his jaw and cheeks and maybe the tip of his nose as you sit on his lap and work him through his orgasm. you’d watch him closely, take in the way he comes undone for you, maybe even call him your pretty boy as he paints your hand white with his seed.

would you praise him? murmur softly into his ear and seal the gentle words with a kiss to his skin? would you stroke his hair from his face as you admire his blissful, fucked out little expression? maybe he’d ask you then—maybe he’d ask you to admit he’s way more handsome than that douchebag you dated as your hand holds his softening cock, sticky with his release.

god, what he wouldn’t do to see your hands coated with his cum—did you do this for your ex? did he look as hot as you claim he was when he came for you? the thought makes him sour—he grits his teeth and clenches his jaw at the idea, panting and catching his breath as he stares down at the mess he’s made.

he should feel bad—this is wrong. so, so wrong—suguru would kill him if he was aware satoru was lusting over his little sister. but it felt so fucking good—he’s never cum as hard as when he’s pictured cumming for you.

it can’t be that wrong, if that’s the case—can it?

——

“suguru,” your voice is shrill, deadly—like you’re out for blood. “next time you jack off in the shower, maybe clean the fucking wall? are you joking?”

“wha—i definitely cleaned that,” suguru defends.

oh, fuck, satoru thinks—he forgot to clean that. so he makes himself very scarce and stays within the confinements of suguru’s bedroom—his messy habits are starting to really catch up to him. if his defense, he really would clean that up…it’s just that he was a bit distracted.

“so you admit you jack off in our shower? our shower?” you sound inconsolable, downright devastated, and borderline hysterical. having siblings seems like a lot of trouble, he thinks—but then again, sometimes satoru is jealous of your bond with suguru. it’d be nice to have someone in his family he can actually depend on. “keep that shit for your bedroom, you jackass!”

“well, how am i supposed to do that when satoru is there? you tell me.”

“i don’t know! figure it the fuck out—you guys probably jack off together anyway.”

“what?” suguru sounds appalled, “we do not—that’s outrageous.”

“whatever,” you say—you sound almost murderous as you warn, “next time you better clean up your fucking mess, you asshole.”

satoru can’t help but smile a little—your pointer finger is definitely held up as you scold suguru—you’re so cute when you’re mad, he thinks. he almost wants to step out and catch a glimpse, but he decides against it for now.

silently, satoru thanks his best friend for taking one for the team—even if it was unknowingly.

—————

it’s night four.

satoru has surprisingly kept to himself—he even promptly looked away after meeting your eyes in the kitchen yesterday morning as you walked in for breakfast. that’s…new. a lot about satoru is new.

he’s taller and more muscular now—at one point, suguru used to tower over his scrawny little form. now he’s seemed to grow into his body, seemed to learn how to style himself better, and actually do his hair a bit. it’s still messy now that he’s just lazing around in your home—but it’s oddly handsome.

scarily handsome, in fact.

you don’t enjoy the idea of thinking about the jerk of your childhood like that—but ever since you felt the hard press of his chest against your back, sometimes you wonder what it’s like to know satoru outside of just your older brother’s obnoxious friend.

maybe, somewhere along the line, had you put your pride aside and actually tried to get to know him, maybe you both could at least be friendly. but then again, there’s never been any real animosity between you two—you can share a lighthearted talk from time to time, like that night in the kitchen.

you decide not to dwell on it too much, decide that he’s not really worth your thoughts when he’s just a guy who’s always been a bit too spoiled to learn how to be humble. instead, you go down to the kitchen to grab another pack of strawberry pocky—satoru will just have to deal with it. if he doesn’t want his snacks eaten, he shouldn’t keep them in the pantry where anyone could stumble across them.

you walk into the kitchen until—oh. it’s satoru. again.

“oh, hey,” he grins cheekily, taking a sip of his coke—he needs to break the habit of having so much sugar this late at night…but then again, why would it matter to you? “stalkin’ me?”

“for an unwelcomed guest, you sure do talk a lot,” you roll your eyes, making his lips curl into a smug little smirk.

“i don’t know—your parents seem to love having me over. what if i become their newest son?”

“i doubt my parents are looking to adopt you,” you raise a brow, slightly amused.

he hums, sipping his coke before blinking at you through those long, perfect lashes of his. “well, there are other ways to blend into a family. marriage, for example, is a great way.”

“you and my brother might as well marry each other,” you snort, “no one else will do it.”

“who said anything about suguru?” he winks, chuckling when your face twists into an exaggerated look of horror—always as dramatic as ever, you are. he can’t help but find an endearing side to it now.

satoru stands, walks over to where you are and stands in front of you as you scoff, shaking your head as you huff out a disbelieving chuckle.

“that’s pushing it,” you muse, “marrying you would be the last open option i’d have left—and even then i doubt i’d ever take it.”

“yeah?” he raises a brow, leaning in so close, you can practically feel his breath fan over you. he smells like expensive cologne and your shampoo—why is he using yours instead of suguru’s? before you can even ask him what he’s doing, he throws away the empty can of coke in the trash can behind you, eyes bright with amusement as your breath hitches.

it’s like he knows—the fucking asshole.

“yeah,” you breathe, “you don’t deserve me,” you try to say matter-of-factly. it comes off a bit more breathless than you intended—the air feels suffocating. maybe because satoru is so close, maybe because his breath is on your face, maybe because all you can smell and feel and hear is him.

you can’t find it in yourself to pull away—why aren’t you pulling away? it’s just like that day he caught you, when his arms wrapped around you and all you felt like doing was lean into his chest. what about satoru and you has shifted so quickly to make you want to do that? what makes him so easy to fall into when all you’ve always known was to shove at him?

he hums, leaning in closer and closer until his forehead touches yours. “you know who didn’t deserve you?” he asks, “that shitty ex of yours.”

you look up at him with wide eyes, speechless as his hands find purchase of your hips, grabbing them and pulling you closer—and against better judgment, your hands lay themselves across his chest. it’s as firm as you remember it.

“how would you know—”

“heard suguru rant about it all the time,” he murmurs, “how he forgot your dates. got you a shitty birthday present. didn’t show up to your anniversary. made you hang out with his friends and didn’t even meet half of yours. you’re tellin’ me he deserves you more than me?”

“he was hot—”

“yeah? and i’m not?”

he’s cocky—you hate that about him. always did. but he’s so close, so intoxicating, so irresistible, and fuck, he is hot—so incredibly hot, you’ve been losing sleep over it the last four nights no matter how hard you try to deny it.

“satoru, what are you—”

“y’know, i’ve been helping suguru pick your birthday presents since you were twelve. i’d pick you the best gifts,” his nose is brushing against yours now, lips just millimeters away from his as he speaks—“and i never forget an important date. i’m very punctual too, believe it or not. i’d meet your little friends—show ‘em what a catch i am when you introduce me.”

“and what am i supposed to do with this information?” you ask defiantly.

it’s a last-ditch effort—you both know this. you know exactly what he wants you to do with this information.

“i don’t know, sweetheart,” he chuckles, “what do you think?”

and then you’re kissing him—because fuck, satoru is right there, and how could you not? his chest is under your palms, his lips are right against yours, and you can feel his thumb rub circles into your hips.

so you kiss him—loop your arms around his neck and tug him closer and press your lips to his. he groans, responds almost instantly as his mouth molds against yours, kissing you deeper as his hand moves to cup your cheek.

your lips are softer than he thought, and his hair is silky against your fingers. you tug at the strands, grab a handful, and feel them against your fingers like you’ve wanted to for so long. and when he nips at your bottom lip, who are you to deny him? your lips part, letting his tongue slide in and taste you with a breathy sigh that makes your knees wobble.

“s-satoru,” you stutter, whispering between kisses, “suguru might come in like last time—”

“god,” he groans, head burying into your neck, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses against the skin, “don’t fucking talk about your brother right now. please.”

“my room,” you say urgently—it’s all he needs to hear before his hands are on your ass, grabbing you as you wrap your legs around his hips. it’s urgent, the way his mouth is back on yours—he doesn’t pull away even once the entire walk to your room, not even when he lets your back fall onto the mattress as he hovers over you, pressing kisses along your collarbone.

no bra, he notes happily, his hand sneaking under your shirt to toy with your pert nipples.

“god, you’ve been driving me fuckin’ crazy,” he mumbles, tugging the hem of your shirt over your arms and tossing it over his shoulder. he stares, takes in the sight of the same tits he’s been fantasizing over for the last few days in awe. “you know that? been thinkin’ about these for days,” he says lowly, cupping your tit and massaging as he presses a kiss to your jaw.

“you’re shameless,” you mutter, snorting before you cut yourself off with a gasp as he squeezes your nipple, pinching and rolling it between his fingers and pulling a soft whine from you.

“shhh,” he chuckles, tilting his head toward the wall next to you, “don’t want suguru to hear, do you? that wouldn’t be nice, would it?”

“it’ll be worse for you than me,” you grin, tugging at the hem of his own shirt, indicating you want it off. he grins widely, wiggling his brows and making you purse your lips.

“wanna see me shirtless again, huh? third times the charm, as they say,” he winks. you would retort with something as witty, but then your eyes fall on that tattoo again—right under his collarbone, making your hand reach out to trace it with your thumb.

“what compelled you to get this corny little tattoo of yours,” you grin, giggling as you trace over the small infinity sign.

for the first time, you think you witness satoru shy, blushing as he rubs the back of his neck and chuckles awkwardly. “that…that was an accident. when i got drunk for the first time.”

“oh,” you snort, “you’re so weak, satoru—”

“do me a favor, sweetheart,” he hums, cutting you off, “as much as i love when you say my name, say toru for me, yeah? i wanna hear it.”

you roll your eyes, huffing as your hand finds the back of his head and pulls him into another kiss, moaning into his mouth as he grinds the throbbing erection in his sweats over your heated core.

“toru,” you say breathlessly, “more.”

that’s all he needs to hear—satoru doesn’t waste a second before he’s crawling between your legs, sliding your cute little pajama pants down your legs before meeting your dripping pussy.

it’s wet—so wet, he almost wants to chuckle and tease you a bit. just for old-time's sake. but the ache that shoots down to his cock reminds him that he’s in no position to tease you when he’s not faring any better himself. so he spreads your legs, kisses lightly at your clit in a feather-like touch that has you whimpering and clutching the sheets in anticipation.

“how pretty,” he mumbles, “been hiding this pretty little thing all this time. what a perfect pussy.”

“satoru,” you gasp in embarrassment, hands reaching for his hair and tugging him closer to where you need him most—equal parts because you really need his mouth on your cunt and equal parts because you really need him to shut up.

but he chuckles, takes his time to spread your folds open with his thumbs, and watches in wonder as you flutter around nothing, arousal dripping and leaving a mess. it’s perfect—you’re perfect, and he wants to take his time with you.

“god, you’re soaked,” he groans, chuckling as he murmurs, “that’s fuckin’ cute.”

before you can even whine at the way his words are shameless, his mouth is back to kissing your clit, lips wrapping around it as he sucks and rolls his tongue along the sensitive bud. his fingers sink deep into you, pushing past your folds and slowly bullying into you until the tips of his fingers curl and brush against a spot that makes you squeal.

you gasp a breathy, “fuck, toru—” before he hums around your clit, vibrations making you whimper as he thrusts his fingers back in to hit that spot again. it’s sensitive, the way he makes you feel—your nerves are on fire, and your head is light, and fuck, it feels so good you can’t help but sob brokenly and squeeze your thighs around his head. he moans against your cunt, pulling his fingers out before letting his tongue lick a stripe along your slit, tasting you with a sharp inhale.

“f-feels good,” you whimper, biting your lip as your eyes crinkle at the corners from squeezing shut.

“yeah?” he hums, kissing your inner thigh, leaving a wet little sheen of his spit and your arousal on the skin, “that’s a good girl—just keep telling me how good i make you feel, kay?”

he could stay buried nose-deep into your pussy for as long as you let him—tongue alternating between fucking into you and rolling over your swollen clit, hearing the broken little gasps and whines of his name as you repeat toru over and over again like a prayer. his hand grips at your thigh, sinking his fingertips into the plush skin and rubbing soothingly with his thumb as you rut your hips and grind against his face.

satoru has half a mind to watch it again—to lick and suck at your core again and again just so he could burn into his mind what you look like when you cum. it’s divine—like he’s halfway to stepping into heaven and has to pause just to admire the sight before him.

your hips leave the mattress as your back arches, and your fingers tug relentlessly at his roots as your walls quiver, letting satoru taste every drop of your release as you press a palm to your hand and try to keep yourself from squealing at the pleasure.

suguru is right next door. you can’t wake him—can’t let him know this is what you and his best friend get up to in the late hours of the night.

it’s not until satoru pulls away, catching his breath as he wipes the wet trail on his chin does he realize how hard he is—how badly he’s aching as his cock strains against his sweats. he hisses as he frees himself; ridding his sweats and boxers and wrapping a large hand around the tip of his erection and smearing the leaking pre cum along his length.

you watch in awe, reaching over and replacing his hand with yours. satoru was right—your hand is infinitely smaller than his, and yet, it feels a great deal better. so much better, in fact, that his arms shake as he hovers over you, burying his head into your neck and groaning as you slowly stroke him, squeezing at the tip and rolling your thumb through the slit.

he didn’t even have to show you what he wanted, what makes him feel good, what makes his mind fog with pleasure and burn through every nerve. no, you figure it all out on your own, pulling strangled moans and hushed gasps from him that make your clit ache once more.

“fuck, baby,” he pants, “can’t last long like this—c’mon, g-gotta feel you.” gently, he pries your hand from his thick, pulsing cock, laying it against your stomach as he peers down in fascination. “i’ll be right here,” he hums, drawing a line on your skin right where his tip ends, “see that? that’s where you’ll feel me, sweetheart.”

“then let me feel you,” you murmur, cupping his cheeks and brushing a thumb over the skin, “fuck me, toru—wan’ it so bad.”

so he does—drags his tip along your folds and collects the slick pooling at your entrance before pushing his tip past your folds, splitting you in half as he slowly buries himself to the hilt. his jaw is clenched, breath labored as he waits for you to adjust, lets you kiss his cheeks and nose as you murmur how handsome he is, how perfect he feels, how good is to you.

“that asshole ever make you cum?” he asks lowly, “he ever eat your pussy like that? make you cum hard enough you had to cover your mouth so you’re not screaming his name?”

“no,” you breathe, quivering as his thumb rolls over your clit in slow circles, still painfully still as he stares down at you, “n-no, never. just you—only you—”

“good,” he grins, “that’s what i like to hear. and when i make you cum on my cock, make sure to tell me he’s never done that either, yeah?”

“you’re full of it,” you scoff, “always have been.”

“and you’re full of me,” he says cheekily, chuckling as you glare half-heartedly. “can i move, baby? please? need more, ‘s not enough. n-need more—”

“yeah,” you whimper, pulling him closer, chests brushing against each other as your lips meet in a sloppy kiss, “yeah—need more too, toru.”

satoru, in all his years of knowing you, has never seen the side of you that could be this gentle. the side that glides your hands over his back, feeling every flex and every pull of his muscles, gently caressing the skin like it’s holy, like it’s not worthy of marks—instead to be worshipped and revered with thoughtful touches. your lips sear into every part of him they can find—his lips, his forehead, his nose, his hair as his face digs into your neck. even your voice is a gentle whisper of his name, so soft and careful, it’s like saying it wrong could break him.

your hips buck up in tandem with his, meeting his rhythm as he slams into you, his balls slapping against your skin as he buries his cock into you as deep as it’ll go with every harsh thrust. you can feel his tip kissing against that sweet spot in the back of your walls, your abused cunt sucking him in and hugging around him as he groans.

the friction feels sickening, like he’ll pass out any second, like he’s floating between the precipice of pleasure and the edge of consciousness.

you do that to him—he doesn’t know how or when or why, but you make him feel like he doesn’t have a grip on his own senses. he doesn’t mind it so much, he thinks—doesn’t hate the idea of letting himself fall into your palm and wrap around him. it feels nicer that way, like it’s where he belongs.

“fuck, ‘s so tight,” he rasps, whining into your neck as your hand cups the back of his head, holding him in place. his hips are rutting into you sloppily now, barely maintaining the rhythm from before as he nears his high—but that doesn't stop him from angling into you perfectly, slamming into your sensitive spot every time without fail. “c-cum—’m gonna cum. cum with me, sweetheart.”

“‘m so close, toru,” you sob—and then, just as his thumb finds your clit again, rubbing harsh, desperate little circles to get you over the edge, you cum again—harder than the last time, spasming around his cock and pulling him in as you squeeze around him. “t-toru,” you gasp brokenly, “fuck, ‘s good—so good.”

“baby,” he moans lowly, “fuck, you’re so perfect. prettiest thing ever—prettiest pussy ever. i, sh-shit—” your orgasm quickly has him falling into his own, hot, thick ropes of cum spilling into you with every twitch of his cock, sweet little noises pulled from his throat that he sings into your neck, fucking his load into you.

it’s messy, the way cum spills out of you and coats his cock—but it’s perfect and feels so, so right. you can’t help but think how perfectly satoru fits against you as his body slumps on top of yours, panting and spent as he cages you in his arms.

your hand doesn’t leave his hair—now that you know how it feels, you don’t think you can stop threading your fingers through it, ever.

“wow, toothless,” he chuckles after a bit, “you’re seriously obsessed with me, huh? i mean, how long have you been nursing this crush on me, hmm? thinking about your brother’s best friend, you naughty little thing—”

“satoru, would you shut that mouth for once,” you hiss, rolling your eyes—still, there’s an affectionate grin on your lips this time as he chuckles into your skin.

“oh baby, i’m afraid this mouth never shuts, so you should get used—”

suddenly, you both freeze as you hear suguru’s voice through the door. “you two better not be fucking doing what i think you’re doing,” he seethes, making your jaw drop and satoru’s eyes widen.

fuck—that was never supposed to happen. suguru was never supposed to hear, let alone know.

“hey,” satoru starts, “if suguru kicks me out of our place, i can come be your new permanent housemate, right?”

do not comment about a part 2

but yeah he can come live with me any time and as long as he pays by sucking my tiddies i shall provide all food and utilities and everything

#teepods.writings #fics.#thirstee!#gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo smut #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk smut #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen smut

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nereidprinc3ss · 2 months ago

Text

diva

in which flirty!reader shows up to work in a bad mood and it’s spencer’s job to deal with her attitude. not that he minds. (bandages universe)

fluff warnings/tags: fem!reader, mentions of reader coming to work from a casual hookup, flirting, lots of teasing, the BAU being silly geese bc this is before all the trauma, insecurities about reader's job performance, spencer wants to be a cyborg, borderline cuddling hehehe a/n: nanana diva is a female version of a hustler (bandages!reader theme song) no but really i just missed them so much lowkey always accepting requests for these two!! I hope you guys likeeee bc i loveee them and also this was based on a request so i hope u see this LOL

As soon as Hotch calls wheels up in thirty you’re slumping forward, resting your head on folded arms. The to-go cup on the round table in front of you has long been emptied but you look at it longingly anyway.

Morgan chuckles, slapping his folder down on the table next to you. “Aw, look at that. Bright eyed and bushy tailed.”

“It’s Sunday,” you groan. “It’s seven in the morning. Excuse me for not being ready to carpe the diem.”

“It’s just carpe diem,” Spencer interjects, standing and slipping his file into his bag. You sit up and give him the most indignant look you can manage, though it’s hard when you’re this tired and he’s that cute. Slacks. Sweater vest. Button down, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. An enviable waist.

“Whose side are you on?”

He frowns, brushing a tuft of shining-clean brown hair out of his eyes.

“If I was on anyone’s side other than my own it would cease to be their side. We’re all always on our own sides.”

“No, you’re on my side. Defend me.”

His brows only dart up and he looks back down to his bag. It’s a look you know well. Don’t get me involved.

Morgan spins in his chair to face you, one elbow resting on the table.

“I’m just saying, if this is your Sunday morning, I’d love to see your Saturday night, little miss forty five minutes late.”

“You heard Hotch say he called me half an hour earlier than everyone else. It was technically fifteen,” you frown. “And I… was at church.”

Rossi gestures at you with his coffee cup. “You step foot in a church, your shoes are going to start smoking.”

Your jaw drops.

“Wow. I thought old people were supposed to be sweet. Come on, Spencer.”

Spencer knows better than to put up a fight as you get up and grab him by the hand not holding onto your cup and folder, dragging him to the bullpen to sit at your desk until the team is ready to go.

He stands in front of you, hands in pockets, as you plop into your own chair. “I… can’t tell if you’re actually mad.”

“I am. At you. For not being on my side.”

Spencer sets his bag down and leans against the adjacent desk, arms folded. You stopped caring a long time ago if he’d notice you ogling the long, lithe lines of him. Maybe you never really cared, if you’re being honest with yourself. He’s a little harder to scandalize these days, anyway. But you’ll never stop trying.

He bites his lip thoughtfully.

“If you’re mad at me, why am I the one you dragged down here?”

“I’m not taking questions, Reid.”

He hisses. “Ouch. Reid.”

“Mhm. That’s how mad I am.”

“Okay, grouchy. Do you want a refill?”

You borderline pout, continuously perplexed by his kindness in the face of your insolence, but holding out your hollow cup for him anyway as you slouch lower in your seat.

“Don’t call me grouchy.”

“Then don’t call me Reid,” he says, taking your cup as he passes, and you think you sense the faintest wash of amusement coloring his tone.

The jet doesn’t do much to put pep in your step.

“Aberdeen,” Morgan muses, letting his file closed on his lap. “Isn’t that where, uh, Kurt Cobain grew up?”

Spencer sits down in the chair next to you, setting the day’s third cup of coffee in front of you on the small table. “It is. It’s also where Washington’s first suspected serial killer William Gohl resided.”

“First of many,” Rossi amends. Reid nods.

“In the US, Washington State comes in fifth place in terms of serial killers per capita. Some blame a widespread vitamin D deficiency. Just under eight hours of sunlight in the winter, the least in the contiguous United States.”

Emily gives an abhorrent rendition of a famous Nirvana riff, imitating a twangy electric guitar, before gesturing to your boss. “Hotch, you’re from Seattle. Did you ever get into Nirvana? The whole grunge scene?”

Hotch lowers his folder, giving her an unimpressed look. “Did you?”

While the exchange is amusing, the coffee is not perking you up and you’d like to be slightly less upright, if possible. You bump Spencer’s knee with your own, and he looks over at you obediently.

“What’s up?”

“I wanna move to the couch.”

He nods and gets right back up. When you pass, and he doesn’t immediately follow, you turn around. Maybe the lack of sleep has rendered you unable to hide your look of contempt as he tries to sit back down.

“What are you doing?”

Morgan snorts. “Uh oh. Lapdog almost forgot his training.”

“I am not a lapdog,” Spencer defends, giving Morgan a harsh look of his own, before following you, much to the amusement of the rest of the BAU.

“Don’t listen to them,” you mutter as you step aside to let him pass.

He settles into the corner of the couch. “I almost never do.” When you cozy up next to him, he seems surprised. “Um, hi?”

“I’m cold. You’re warm.”

“This is… unprofessional.”

You roll your eyes even though he can’t see. “Oh my god. They don’t care.”

That’s enough to shut him up. Eventually he relaxes, and though he doesn’t put his arm around you (they remain crossed in front of him) he doesn’t seem too distraught over the way you’re leaning against him, head on his shoulder. The sky is a soft grey where you can see it through the little rectangles lining the far wall, like a pale tea with plenty of milk.

“What’s up with you, anyway?” He asks eventually, gingerly, and though he’s bold to ask it you know the last thing he means to do is offend. Luckily for him, he’s your soft spot. You let your eyes flutter shut against the boxes of diffuse light.

“Tired.”

“I know that. You’ve had three cups of coffee and you’re still about to fall asleep.”

“Well… that’s all it was.”

“Mhm.”

“God, you’re—” you lift your head, about to give him a good old fashioned verbal lashing, but he’s so sweet looking, and he’s so kind to you even when he’s not, that you deflate—all your air coming out on a sigh as you settle back against him. “I… was… not home, when Hotch called me.”

“Yeah, you said you were at church?” He sounds utterly bewildered. Your heart melts, and you can’t hide the fondness seeping from every pore as you look up at him through your lashes. He really is so beautiful.

“That was a joke, Spence. I was with a friend.”

His brows knit and a faint blush tinges his cheeks.

“Oh. I knew that.”

And he really is getting better at detecting your brand of sarcasm. One day you doubt you’ll be able to pull any over on him, and he’ll stop being so adorable and bashful and embarrassed and sweet all the time. You don't relish the thought.

“What were you doing this morning?” You ask, in a bid to quell the very embarrassment you covet, because you’re not actually a demon, despite what Rossi had implied earlier.

“Sleeping.”

You hum. Imagine taking his hand. Don’t really take it.

“Me ’nd you should hang out outside of work more often.”

“Like… in the mornings?”

“Uh, probably not,” you laugh, your own face heating at the implication he’s only sort of and undoubtedly accidentally making. “I mean—we could. We could have breakfast sometimes.”

“I like breakfast,” he muses. “I know a couple of good spots. I can show you when we get back. There are these ube pancakes that are like bright purple on the inside. Have you had ube? I think you’d like them. The pancakes and the tuber. They’re the same color as your laptop case.”

You giggle, too tired for anything more dignified and too charmed for anything less authentic. Spencer has a moment of apparent self-awareness and after a second chuckles along with you, and like 99% of your moments with him, it’s a nice one.

It slowly fades, and you sigh.

“We’d probably get called in right in the middle of breakfast.”

“It’s always a possibility,” Spencer agrees, and you feel him nod. He smells really nice—clean and sort of cedar-y. Warm.

“You ever think about how we’re just… robot arms to do the bidding of the federal government? We’re not even people. We’re cyborgs.”

“I’d love to be a cyborg.”

“But then you wouldn’t be so warm and comfy.”

“If I were a cyborg I could install a heating element. I’d still be warm. I don’t know about comfy. Maybe if I kept the biomechatronics to one side of my torso.”

“You’d install a heating element just for me? So we could keep cuddling?”

He clears his throat. You smile to yourself.

“Why are we cyborgs, exactly?”

“Because we don’t get personal lives. The job comes first. I could be doing anything. I could be in the middle of eating bright purple pancakes with my good friend and colleague Spencer Reid and it doesn’t matter. If we get called in we have to leave.”

“If we were in the middle of breakfast, we could just… take our food to go and finish it at our desks.”

“Well—I guess it would be different if it was us, but with my other friends… it’s kind of a bummer, sometimes.”

You’re thinking about the friend you left this morning. Nobody you’re particularly invested in, but you wonder if that friend is still asleep in bed—and you realize you don’t much care. You’re glad to be here, and not there.

“I think if the job didn’t feel worth it to you, you would’ve left by now. But you haven’t. You can complain all you want, but you show up every day.”

You scoff.

“Fifteen to 45 minutes late, depending on how you look at it.”

“That is… atypical. You’re usually on time.”

“Usually…” you repeat darkly. A moment passes. An uncomfortable insecurity begins to bloom and ache like a rotting tooth. “Can I ask you a serious question?”

Spencer doesn’t hesitate. “Of course.”

“Do you think…” you falter, unused to this kind of vulnerability. A cloud swallows the jet and the cabin darkens into a place for secrets. “Do you think I’m worth the trouble?”

You know Spencer senses the unease like a sheepdog can sense a storm from the way he perks up next to you. He’s always been like that—incredibly attuned to the moods of others. You hope he doesn’t think profiling is just another of many learned skills. It’s a genuine talent, a sort of savantism in its own right. You can’t imagine him doing anything else as passionately as he does his job. Sometimes it almost makes you insecure.

“What trouble?”

“Like… Hotch having to call me half an hour earlier than he calls the rest of the team. Or you, accepting my constant teasing. I know I’m—I can be kind of a diva. I don’t always really feel as professional as you guys. Or… qualified, maybe.”

You can imagine the way he’d narrow his eyes as he thinks this over, though you’d still like to see it for yourself—but you keep your head on his shoulder. In a way, he’s already getting a closer look at you than you usually grant to anyone.

“I think… you’re good at your job. And you care more than you’d like to admit. That thing you do—where you sometimes show up a few minutes late, or you piss Rossi off on purpose, or you flirt with Hotch—I think… we all have things like that. We all self-sabotage, because it’s a really hard job, and I think we all wonder if we’re really qualified for it, or deserve to be in these positions, or if we even want the responsibility of trying to save people’s lives. But you’re a genuinely good person and a gifted profiler. And everyone else knows it, too.”

The deep thrum of the jet’s engine blurs the rest of the team’s incomprehensible chatting and the pounding of your heart into one big muddied streak of paint. Hopefully Spencer can’t feel the heat of your cheek through his shirtsleeve.

“Oh,” you murmur.

A moment passes.

It’s a relief when Spencer’s anxiety comes bubbling up before your own can. “Sorry, was that too much?”

“No,” you hurry, “no, it was—no. That was really really nice of you to say. Thank you, Spencer.”

He relaxes. “Well… it’s all true.”

How could anyone ever deserve him? How does anyone get lucky enough to know a man like Spencer Reid?

When you burst through the other side of the cloud, the sun has come out. It burns away the milky early morning fog and makes your eyes ache just enough to finally wake you up. You blink and stretch against him like a cat.

“Spence?”

“Hm?”

“I just want to clarify… I don’t flirt with Hotch. I flirt with you.”

#spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic

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scorpiosbite · 2 months ago

Text

the first time drew saw actress!reader.

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 ────୨ৎ──── when drew was forced by madelyn to come watch this new show with her and the rest of the cast he didn’t expect to have his heart captured by the mesmerising woman on the screen.

𝜗𝜚 pairing: actress!reader x drew starkey

author’s note: this takes place in 2023 during the filming of obx 4 which is when game of thrones started airing in my timeline also actress!reader is anywhere between 19-22 years old.

drew was sprawled across the couch in his hotel room, aimlessly scrolling. after a long day of filming under the hot and heavy sun of morocco, he had no intention of doing anything that required effort. his plan was to simply scroll until his eyes got heavy and he knocked out, but knowing his insomnia that wouldn’t be until the early hours of the morning.

glancing at the time displayed on his phone ten pm it read, he let out a heavy sigh, though his body ached with exhaustion, his mind would not shut off. but before he could put down his phone and try to force himself to sleep, a knock sounded on the door “yeah?”

“drew! its maddie.”

“maddie?” he spoke softly, what’s she doing up at this time. usually she was asleep the moment she got back to the hotel. “come in, its open.”

she came tumbling through the door, coming to a stop in front of the couch where he laid. drew couldn’t help but chuckle as he watched her. “what’s up?”

“drew! you gotta come watch this new show with us!” her hands were placed on her hips as she looked down at him.

drew sighed, a noise of exhaustion. “i can’t be fucked getting up, cline.” her face scrunched up, ready to dispute him.

“drew you have to! the last episode of season one just came out and i watched the first episode when it aired and it was so good that i stopped watching so that we could binge it all when the season finished!”

recognition sparked on his face. “wait is this game of thrones? i remember you saying how good the first episode was, like two months ago.”

madelyn’s face grew excited at the fact that he remembered. “yeah! please please, you have to come watch it, jd, bailey, chase, laci, rudy and austin are already in my room waiting.”

drew mulled over the idea for a moment. either he could rot in his room until his call time tomorrow or hang out with his friends and possibly watch a good show, if maddie’s high praise was anything to go by.

“yeah, alright let’s go.” he stood up from the couch, stretching his arms and grabbing his phone to follow maddie, who was already halfway out the door, unable to wait any longer.

when they arrived at her room, the first episode was already lined up on the screen, the hbo logo blaring in the dark room. drew greeted everyone and then took a seat on the spare love seat by the window. “you guys get forced too?” he questioned.

“yup.” jd breathed out. “nah i’ve been wanting to watch this, i remember hearing about it when they started filming, it’s supposed to be like super graphic and vulgar.” madison commented. “shit, really? i know nothing about this show, other than the fact that cline can’t shut up about it.” austin added. chuckles sounded across the room, and madelyn yelled from the kitchen where the popcorn she was making turned in the microwave. “y’all are about to thank me!”

drew simply sat in silence, with the amount maddie was praising this show, his skepticism grew, no way this show was that good. someone pressed play as soon as madelyn was seated, he didn’t see who. the intro song of the show blasted through the room and drew settled back into his seat.

“yo, pass me the popcorn?” chase rolled up the bag and chucked it across the room from where he was sat, drew caught it with ease.

he couldn’t lie, the show was good, fifteen minutes in and he was hooked. and just when he thought that it couldn’t get better, you came on the screen.

“holy fuck who is that?” jd’s voice rang out, but drew felt as though his voice came from somewhere far away. he couldn’t tear his eyes away from you. “she’s beautiful right?” madelyn sighed out. mummers of agreement sounded from the people sitting in the room. “her name’s y/n y/l/n.”

“y/n” drew repeated to himself softly, almost as he was testing the feel of your name in his mouth. rolling the syllables on his tongue, in that moment he decided that no other word would ever compare to the way your name felt on his lips.

dressed in a flowing dress with daring cuts exposing your seemingly soft skin, he wondered what would it feel like if he ran his palms along the smooth expansion. your hair sliver, long and loose to play visenya targaryen, the last targaryen, the daughter of rhaegar targaryen and elia martell. drew felt as though no one had ever looked more stunning in the history of the world.

“drew? you all good man?” someone asked, he didn’t know who, he couldn’t hear or think of anything beyond you and the performance you were giving. “i think starkey’s got a crush.” rudy sang out, and the rest laughed. but drew couldn’t care less, too busy watching you.

they watched two more episodes and as the third episode came to an end drew finally broke out of his trance. while the rest occasionally made comments during the show drew could not tear himself away from the screen, afraid that if he looked away he would miss you.

“i gotta hand it to you, cline, i’m hooked. that shit was amazing!” carlacia grinned. “i fucking told you guys!” she retorted back. “but aside from that, starkey? what did you think?” she smirked at him.

“yeah, that was good.” drew’s body tingling “that’s it? just good? you don’t wanna talk about the moon eyes you were making every time visenya came on screen?” drew cheeks tinged pink. “yeah, she’s pretty.” “aye, shot your shot man, she’s so fine.” madison teased.

as drew made his way back to his room he looked at the time, two am, damn he didn’t even realise time had passed that quick. sliding into his bed after taking a quick shower, he couldn’t help himself but run a quick search of you on google. “fuck.” the soft curse slipping from his lips, just when he thought you couldn’t get hotter, he saw pictures of you, not in costume, naturally a brunette, he was so fucked. fuck it, he quickly searched up your name on instagram.

you were laying in bed scrolling through instagram when a notification popped up.

drewstarkey started following you. follow back?

first one, do you like it? if you do i’ll keep writing. reblogs and comments are welcome and appreciated.

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mv1simp · 2 months ago

Text

Slow Down♥️

Max Verstappen x Driver!Reader (SocialMedia!AU)

I’m so down if you’re ready, I’ll show you if you let me, girl (she said fuck me like I’m famous, I said okay)

You and Max Verstappen are very well known in the media, for having one of the most volatile rivalries in the sporting world. But Ferrari’s Princess and Redbull’s Mad Max send shockwaves through the paddock when your PR teams confirm you’re officially dating. The public have a hard time believing it…until your sex tape gets leaked on Twitter a month later. Social Media!AU

Content includes: 18+ MDNI, smut, trying my hand at a SM! AU for the first time!!, dom! Max and switch! Reader, size kink, sexism, max being a feminist king

Everyone always said there was a thin line between love and hate. Frankly, you find it to be sexist bullshit, rolling your eyes everytime some interviewer or your friends or trainer would make some sly comment about so what’s going on between you and Max, with a suggestive wiggle of their eyebrows. Nothing, just him trying to run me off the track repeatedly and giving me 4 bruised ribs in Singapore when he clipped me illegally, you say with an annoyed tone. You know that if you were a man, and not the first female driver in decades in F1, you wouldn’t be getting randomly shippedwith all the drivers. And for gods sake, Verstappen off all people was the most laughable idea. The man was either being a violent menace on the track or an immature twelve year old off it, you think vehemently. You two had stayed well out of each others way in your Haas seat last year, with you leading the mid pack in the suboptimal car but Max remaining well out of reach at the front of the pack. But this year, you’d earned yourself a Ferrari seat and were ecstatic to finally be able to compete for a WDC.

That was, until you and Max Verstappen suddenly started to keep getting caught in each others crosshairs. What started as polite indifference between two coworkers blew up into a PR frenzy, with you and Max completing for the top step in the podium every race weekend. He thought you a reckless driver, getting lucky in a rocket ship this year and trying to sink her claws into something she can’t handle. You thought him over arrogant, a man who couldn’t handle losing to a girl, his fragile ego unable to handle losing a 4th WDC to a Ferrari driver who was only in her second F1 season.

And then, two months out from the end of the season, everything changed between you and Max. On a night out in Monaco with your friends, celebrating being home from triple headers, you’d had the unfortunate experience of being cornered by some drunk, sexist creep who thought he was entitled to touch you. He’d been stronger than you expected, pinning you in a dark alleyway and you just when you starting to freak out, Max of all people practically threw the guy off you. He’d angrily spat at the drunk to pick on someone his own size or he’d break his jaw next time, before leading you to his car with a gentle hand. Normally, you found Max’s far larger frame to be annoying, another way for him to intimidate you when he glared downwards. But that night you couldn’t help but be grateful for the muscular, tall man and his attentive blue eyes as you willingly follow him with wide, doe eyes.

The ride home had been silent, you nervously clutching the large sleeves of the hoodie Max had given you from his backseat. And when you’d thanked him for his help, saying you appreciate him looking out for you even though he hated you, he looked at you with genuine surprise. I don’t hate you, he’d said. Well, I suppose we have had our differences on the track. You snickered at this, muttering that’s one way of putting it. Max chuckled, making you peer at him curiously as you’d never heard him do that in your presence. He was actually very handsome, you noted, without an angry scowl on his face or that Redbull helmet covering him. Then you tell your tipsy brain to shut up because where the hell had that thought suddenly come from?!

But really, I think you’re a pretty amazing girl off the track, Max continued. It must be hard being the only female driver, but you always have something good to say to the dumb interview questions you get. And I’m not going to stand by and let any woman be felt up by some creep. Even if it’s the Princess of Ferrari, he adds with a smirk. You rolled your eyes at this, stepping out of his car as you reach your apartment. And when you offer him his hoodie back, he tells you to keep it. You can use it to stay warm at the next race - it’s Brazil, very rainy. Did I mention I’m called the rainmaster, incidentally? You burst out laughing at his lack of subtlety, and he smiles at having distracted you, making the scared look in your pretty doe eyes from earlier disappear. Fuck off, Verstappen, you giggle, and for once your words have no real bite.

By the time your second F1 season is over, and you’re receiving your trophy for the world championship at the Prizegiving Gala, the first female to do so, you and Max Verstappen have became good friends. Maybe something more, from all the time you’ve started spending together off the track gaming, playing padel, and going out drinking. You were far too afraid to ever say something to him, knowing the media response to the first female driver dating a fellow driver would be absolutely brutal. Besides, you had no idea if Max remotely felt the same way about you - his type seemed to be pretty models, not aggressive drivers who spent half her time plotting his downfall.

You’re surprised when he finds you at the after party, late into the night, where everyone is too plastered to note that the fallen Redbull champion is taking the winning Ferrari Princess to a private level on the yacht. If you think I’m going to apologise for breaking your winning streak, you can try again, you announce dramatically as you grin at him, 5 drinks in and pink lips loosened, letting him know you were jesting. Wouldn’t have it any other way, Princess, Max hums, coming to stand so close to you that your heart rate quickens when you feel warmth radiating from the taller, muscular driver. Besides, I’ll be taking the cup next year, anyways. Enjoy the high while you can, he says in his Dutch accent, all cocky.

You let out an outraged gasp at this, forgetting how close you two already are as you step towards him, accusing hand pressed against his firm chest. But before you can say anything, Max’s gorgeous blue eyes drop down to where your manicured nails are touching his pecs. And then he looks down further, to where your plush tits have pressed up against his abs, your cute red corset minidress pushing your cleavage up temptingly. There’s no mistaking the dark desire that swirls in his intense gaze as he looks back into your wide doe eyes. And then he’s leaning in, finally, you think, and then your brain wakes up and you remember who’s in front of you. We can’t, Max, you say breathlessly, dazed by how attractive he looks when turned on. Why not, the Dutchman demands, cocky as usual. You don’t want this, Princess? His large hand brushed your jaw, tilting your face upwards when you try to look away. Your breath hitched from the contact, and you’re sure he can feel how fast your carotid pulse is beating. It’s-it’s not that I don’t want to, you say with a blush, making a pleased smirk appear on Max’s lips. But I’m the only female driver on the grid, the public would tear me apart if they found out I hooked up with another driver on the grid-

Fuck what anyone else thinks, Max says passionately, the familiar spark of defiance in his eyes. I know the fallout from something like this would be much harder for you as a woman than me, and I waited till after the championship fight finished. No one can contest you didn’t win the cup with your own sheer skill. But now that it’s finished, I can’t hold back anymore. Your jaw drops from Max’s heated confession, never having guessed the handsome blonde would reciprocate your buried romantic feelings. And I don’t mean some one night stand or summer fling, he continued boldly. I want to be your boyfriend, I want you all to myself properly.

You must have had too many G&Ts, you hear yourself say distantly, cause you’re not even a little bit cute and shy like you normally are off the track, Verstappen. He smiles gently, knowing you were using humour to deflect from the swirling emotions within you. Maybe, he murmurs, bending down to rest his forehead against yours. Or maybe you look so fucking gorgeous in this red dress I knew I couldn’t hide how I feel anymore. When he feels your hand graze his chest, pulling him just a bit closer, he knows what you want. Pressing the gentlest of kisses to your glossed lips, he pulls back to make sure you still wanted more.

But he didn’t need to have any doubts, because you’re staring up at him sultrily, desire having darkened your own wide, doe eyes. This time you’re pulling him back onto your lips, your arms wrapping around his broad shoulders so that there’s not even a millimetre of space between you too. He groans against you as the months of tension come to a head, the two of you languidly exploring each others’ mouths with your tongues.

Even if you’d woken up the next morning regretting your decision, there was no way you could turn down Max’s offer of a relationship. Because even if you had still hated him, the sex that night on the yacht has been so incredibly mind blowing, by far the best orgasm you had ever experienced, that you knew you’d never meet anyone who could fuck you so perfectly again. So you hesitantly said yes, let’s try this for real, Max over a late hungover brunch the next morning. The rest had been history - the two of you had spent the last 7 months in a secret relationship, not wanting the chaos of the media to ruin your relationship before it could even start properly. Max has proven time and time again you’d made the right decision saying yes, being the perfect boyfriend, dedicated to all your needs and wants, spoiling you endlessly and making you laugh whenever you had a bad day.

Sometimes things were hard, of course. Like when you two had tensions during a race, your private relationship doing nothing to dampen the competitive spirit you both shared. But you’d both make up after, whether it be with a long debrief and strategy talk on how to avoid an incident next time - or your personal favourite, some angry make up sex. Like you’d suspected, Max was an absolute sex god and you two enjoyed a very healthy sex life, exploring each others kinky preferences. So when you’d have to be away from each other for long periods, busy with planning and meetings at your separate team bases, your boyfriend came up with a solution once the nudes and phone sex didn’t quite hit the same.

Filming yourselves during sex seemed like a certain recipe for disaster, given how famous the two of you are and the consequences of anything got leaked. But the temptation was too great as weeks drag on without the touch of your boyfriend - so you agreed, just this once, to try it out.

Well, that had certainly been the plan. But the video had been so so nice to watch again and again anytime your pussy ached for Max that you can’t resist making more. And then last month when your teams had finally given the okay for an official announcement on your relationship, and the media response had overall been surprisingly positive, you two get too comfortable and Max accidentally sent the video over DM to you, instead of the encrypted chat you normally use.

And that was when shit hit the fan.

No, Max, go away, I don’t want to see you, I don’t want to see anyone ever again! The blonde Dutchman sighs he leans his head against the closed bathroom door with a worried expression on his face. You’ve locked yourself in his Monaco penthouse’s bathroom for the past 4 hours, not coming out despite how much he’s pleaded. Please, schatje, he tries again. I know it’s bad, but we’ll get through it together. Twitter had already banned any links of the video and both your PR teams are doing damage control and so many of the grid drivers and journalists were calling out the website that had leaked the tape. Please, I just want to see you, you can’t be locked in there forever and reading all the stuff online alone.

When you don’t reply, only sniffling through the door, he sighs again and slides down the door, making himself comfortable. A few minutes later he hears the door unlock and your red, crying face peeking through. Oh, schatje, he croons soothingly as you drop down into his arms and bury your face in his thick neck. He rubs soothing circles along your back as you sniffle that Everyone’s saying such horrible things, Maxie. How am I going to face going on the paddock ever again?

He reassures you firmly that you two would go hand in hand, united on the paddock with your heads held high, because you’ve done nothing wrong. He’d been doing the media game a lot longer than you and knew this scandal, like everything else, would get blown over with time. After your quiet sobs settle with his comforting words and tight hug, you pull back to look at him and apologise for shutting yourself away and not checking in on him. It’s your leaked tape too, you say anxiously. How are you feeling about it, baby?

He eases your concern again, telling you honestly that in the grand scheme of things, although it was a little mortifying he’s had worse in the media. Besides, it’s gonna be satisfying to crush whichever little fucker leaked the vid, he says vehemently. Any anyone who’s saying any bullshit sexist comments about you sleeping your way into F1 or anything is getting hit with a defamation lawsuit from legal, he declares, making your heart swell from his protectiveness. You still aren’t convinced, though. Are you sure, Max? I remember in that particular video, you can’t see much of my body but there’s definitely a lot of shots of your…

Dick? Your boyfriend finishes with a deadpan expression, That’s fine. Besides, I’ve nothing to be embarrassed about. You know the hashtag Verstappen’s third leg is trending on Twitter now? You giggle at his nonchalance, making Max smile at seeing you cheered up. You’ve finally having processed what happened enough to maybe see a bit of humour in it. True, I suppose it could have been worse, you muse. The Las Vegas video could have been the leaked one. Imagine how batshit the fans would have gotten if they saw the handcuffs were for you, not me. Max laughs genuinely, blue eyes looking fondly at your mischievous expression. The familiar Ferrari fire he adored was back in your own pretty doe eyes.

Or worse, the Barcelona one, you tease as you lead him to the kitchen to start making dinner. Scrolling through hundreds of posts and spiralling was calorie consuming work. I think Twitter would have shut down if they found out Max Verstappen likes being called daddy in the bedroom.

Your boyfriend’s face goes adorably pink as he stammers at your unexpected roast. Hey-hey now, schat, that was just one time okay? You’d just accidentally said it and it caught me off guard-

You grin playfully, giving him a kiss on the cheek because he looked too cute to resist. Sure, baby, so off guard you lasted 5 seconds after that. His face goes even pinker, reaching the tips of his ears now as he shyly looks away. For all his fierceness on the track, you loved how sweet the Dutch Lion was off it. Giggling, you put him out of his misery by handing him a knife and tell him to get to work chopping the tomatoes. You knew no matter what came your way, you would be fine with Max by your side.

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A/N: okkk so what did u guys think at my first attempt at a social media AU ahaha. You know I love to yap I fear I included too many Twitter screenshots, I ALWAYS GET CARRIED AWAY. Anyway this was super fun pulled me right out of my writers block!!! Hope u enjoy xx

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