#i don't talk about these two enough but i love them so much | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

notlongtolove · 3 days ago

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to be an accountant of the heart

because it’s utterly, bone-deep terrifying. to look into the eyes of the person you love most in the world and feel the weight of a possibility that you might love them more than they love you.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader (second person, no y/n)

genre: angst-ish, fight and makeup

content: established relationship fight and makeup woof woof rookie bau reader feels insecure about how much she loves spencer, worries she's too clingy, spencer reid best bf ever

word count: 5k

note: this was haunting me in my drafts for the longest time... please be nice my heart can't take it (psa guys don't ever tell ur partners that they love you more than you love them bc 5 years down the road they'll cope by writing deranged spencer reid fics like this)

a line: You’ve always been this way—more flame than moth, more lightning than thunder. It’s one of the things he loves most about you.

and then it is hundreds of hours later, and you are still hunched over your flowcharts and abacus, trying to decide if you have gotten enough. This is the loneliest job in the world: to be an accountant of the heart. - tony hoagland

The English language draws a neat line between many and much. It divides the countable from the uncountable.

The word many is meant for things you can count. How many cups of coffee have you had? How many days will you be gone for?

The word much belongs to what cannot be counted, what cannot be numbered. How much longer do we have in bed? How much did you miss me? How much do you love me?

How much?

It’s an innately impossible question. Love, after all, is supposed to be infinite, unbound, unquantifiable. Any attempt to measure it—to reduce something so sacred to a number, a unit—is to taint it. And why would you want to do that? Why would anyone? There shouldn't be any need to measure something so inherently immeasurable.

Deep down, you know there's no actual way to count love. You suppose this instinct to measure has always been there, to wonder if the love you received can be tallied like time. It’s buried deep, old as the child you once were.

Still, the question begs itself. How much? How much more? How much less? If comparison is the thief of joy it’s only because it leaves you with the revelations nobody asked for, the truths nobody ever wants to see.

Put love on a scale, wait and see—Will it balance or won’t it?

“Glaring at the clock isn’t going to make time pass any faster,” Elle teases from two desks away, her eyes locked on the report she’s skimming.

You don’t bother hiding your sigh as you glance up from where your chin rests heavily in your palm, elbow propped against the desk. The pencil in your other hand twirls idly, betraying your impatience. “He said they landed an hour ago,” you grumble. Only the faintest trace of a pout slips through.

“Working hard or hardly working, ladies?”

Your head perks up at that. Trust Derek Morgan to know how to make an entrance, arriving right on cue, grin wide and swagger intact.

JJ, seated beside you and noticeably more amused by your restlessness than concerned, spins her chair around as she asks, “How was the convention boys?”

“It was great—more than great actually,” Spencer says, appearing from behind Morgan. He’s lugging a bag that seems twice as heavy as when you’d helped him pack it five days ago. “All the speakers were incredible. I got to talk with Lonnie Athens himself. He gave me a signed copy of his latest book.” His grin widens tenfold. “It’s not even out in stores yet.”

You’re halfway out of your seat, ready to pounce on Spencer the moment he sets his bag down. But instead, he offers a halfhug and a light squeeze to your shoulder. It’s understated, but it’s Spencer. Public displays of affection aren’t his thing, and you know better than to expect more. Still, five days without him makes you ache for just a little more.

“It was alright,” Morgan interjects with a casual shrug as he takes a seat at the edge of your table, narrowly missing your nth mug of coffee. “Great sandwiches though.”

“Yeah, you sure seemed interested in the sandwiches,” Spencer says dryly, the kind of tone that suggests sandwiches were not the main attraction.

Morgan smirks, unbothered. “New York, man,” he says with a grin. “New York.”

You turn your attention back to Spencer. “How’d you sleep?” you ask, your question aimed entirely at him.

“Surprisingly well, actually,” Spencer replies, “Despite the snoring.”

Morgan’s response is immediate—a light thwack to the back of Spencer’s head. “How’d he sleep? More like, how’d I sleep. Lover girl over here had him on the phone half the night.”

“I wasn’t that bad,” you shoot back, narrowing your eyes at him. But then your gaze drifts to Spencer, searching for confirmation. “Was I?”

Spencer hesitates, his lips pressing into a faintly sheepish line. “I did wake up late for one of the panels,” he admits, scratching the back of his neck.

“Oh, you think you had it bad? I’ve never seen someone go through so much coffee in a week,” JJ says, nodding in your direction, “She wiped out the entire stock.”

“Almost bashed her over the head with a cup of coffee myself when I had to settle for the instant stuff,” Elle chimes in. A collective shudder goes through the group. “No offence, Reid,” she adds.

“None taken,” Spencer replies smoothly, just in time to earn another smack on his arm, this time from you.

You’ve endured more than your fair share of teasing—it comes with the territory when you’re part of a team like this. You, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, three years his junior. Him, more comfortable rambling about the number of kernels on an average cob of corn than talking to any girl, let alone one with a smile like yours that could make his knees buckle. What had been an odd match to some, made perfect sense to others—Though Spencer would argue that Garcia just liked seeing him with any girl who could make him laugh the way you could, especially within three days of meeting him. It’s a feat nobody else has yet to achieve in the year you’ve been on the team.

“Missed you,” you murmur, just loud enough for him to hear.

Spencer flushes as his lips part, maybe to respond, but Elle cuts in before he gets the chance. “Save it for later, lover girl. Some of us want to hear about those sandwiches.”

“Oh, they really were better than last year’s,” Spencer begins, now distracted, completely oblivious to Elle’s sarcasm, “Probably because the annual reports showed an increased budget for the global initiatives.”

JJ raises an eyebrow in amused disbelief. “You read the FBI’s annual budget breakdown?”

Spencer looks genuinely surprised by the question. “You don’t?”

Chuckles echo throughout the group and though you smile faintly, it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. You just can’t help it as the tally marks start to stack up in your mind. One for the way his attention is just a little too distant, his excitement seemingly aimed at everyone but you. Another for every time you wait for his gaze and it doesn’t come. He’s too absorbed in recounting a discussion about deterministic causality he’d had with a keynote speaker.

Compared to Spencer, who was often so reserved, it was easy to feel like your emotions were too big, too eager. Dragging him, wide-eyed and stammering, up the stairs to Hotch’s office six months ago had been nothing short of a test of strength and sheer determination. You’d been the one to silence him with a gentle kiss to his knuckles, promising him that everything would be okay. You were a live wire compared to him, everyone knew that. Lover girl, they teased, though never cruelly. In the field and out of it—Clingy to a fault, always wearing your heart on your sleeve.

Lover girl through and through, you wait patiently for Spencer to look your way.

He doesn’t.

“Yours or mine?” Spencer asks as you stand side by side on the curb, bags in tow.

“Think I’ll go to mine,” you reply curtly. You don’t trust yourself to say anything else right now.

“That’s fine. I’ve got an extra day’s worth of clothes with me.”

“You can go home,” you say, cutting him off. It comes off sharper than you intended. Then, softer, as if trying to backtrack, you add, “If you want.”

He looks at you, baffled. “Why would I do that?”

It’s not a rhetorical question, he genuinely doesn’t understand. Weekends apart have never really been your thing.

“Because—” You cut yourself off mid-sentence. What could you even say? Because you seem so perfectly fine after 120 hours apart. Because the tally marks said so. Because the scale said so. Instead, you huff an exhale and settle for, “No reason. You look tired. Thought you’d want to go home or something.”

“Again sweetheart. Why would I do that?” he repeats, incredulous.

You fight off a resigned sigh, though you’re sure he catches it, and pull out your phone. “I’m calling a cab,” you mumble, thumbing at the screen. “Are you coming or not?”

“Yeah, I’ll come with you,” he says, still calm but clearly confused.

“Fine.”

The ride home is quiet, save for the driver’s rambling complaints about freeway traffic at this hour. Normally, you’d be the one to humour any conversations with strangers, chiming in with polite nods and oh, reallys while Spencer watched, bemused by your ability to make small talk with anyone. But today, you’re just not in the mood, leaving poor Spencer to fend for himself.

Which to his credit, he does—By turning the conversation into a tangent about how traffic patterns correlate with certain hours and commuter behaviour, and delving into a detailed explanation of the queueing theory. He does this till eventually, even the driver goes silent, though whether it’s out of confusion or exhaustion, you’re not quite sure.

You can feel Spencer’s eyes on you in the silence, flicking toward you every now and then. The concern in his attention does nothing to soothe you. If anything, it only fans the flames of your irritation. When the car finally rolls to a stop outside your building, you hand the driver a $20 bill, wave off the change, and stride toward your door without another word. You’re out before Spencer can even pull his door open.

Inside, you drop your things on the couch resignedly and kick off your shoes without so much as a care. They land in a scattered heap that you don’t bother to fix. Spencer lingers behind you, ever patient.

“What do you want for dinner?” His voice is soft, tentative, as he bends down to pick up your discarded shoes, lining them neatly by the door. “We could order something. Chinese, maybe?”

Spencer knows you well—knows how your mood sours when you’re running on fumes. Particularly on days like this, when your only sustenance has been a cup of crappy coffee and a few stale crackers he’d coaxed you into eating earlier just before you left, bribing you with a quick kiss on the cheek—After checking that nobody else was in the break room, of course.

Sullen as you are, you can recognise the offer for what it is. It’s sweet. A thoughtful acknowledgement of how well he knows you, how much he cares. He’s offering you a lifeline, a quiet invitation to let the storm pass without forcing you to name it, something you’re evidently trying not to do.

But tonight, it feels almost patronising. It’s a spotlight on the hurt you can’t quite temper, like he’s trying to fix something you’re not yet ready to admit needs fixing.

“I can run down to the—”

“I’m not hungry.”

You walk straight into your bedroom without another word, leaving him standing there in the doorway. You hear him exhale quietly, not quite a sigh but close. Probably one of resignation. Another tally mark falls on the scale.

“Sweetheart,” he starts. You know he’s testing the waters, trying to find an opening. But you don’t look at him, don’t give him anything to work with. “Can we talk?” he asks, his fingers brushing yours as he takes a seat at the edge of your bed.

“Talk about what?” You’ve always been good at feigning ignorance, but the way you pull your hand away from his is anything but subtle. Spencer sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose as he closes his eyes briefly. He’s clearly exhausted. This is exhausting. You’re clearly exhausting. You can’t help but wonder why you always do this.

“Was it Elle? Morgan?” he ventures cautiously. “The teasing?”

“They always tease me,” you say with a shrug, your voice dismissive. “I don’t care.”

It’s a half-truth, and you both know it.

Spencer nods slowly as he tries to piece this together. He knows you’re not usually one to let things fester. You’re never angry for long, and even when you are, you laugh it off, always quick to join in on the joke. He knows better than to profile you—it's an unspoken rule within the team and, more importantly, within your relationship. But Spencer’s anything if not desperate to understand.

He watches you slip into the bathroom with a sigh, shoulders dipping. The light flickers on, but you don’t meet your own gaze in the mirror. You’re not angry. That would be easier. There’s something quieter in your eyes. Defeat, maybe.

“I missed you,” he offers, stepping into the doorway. His tone is softer now, pleading.

“Did you?” It’s almost sarcastic, but not quite. Irritable but undercut by something raw, as though you don’t really believe he did.

Spencer swallows. “You don’t think I missed you?”

“A little hard to tell between the fawning over Lonnie Athens,” you say, wiping mascara from under your lashes. “Or was it the in-depth analysis of sandwich platters?”

It’s a snap, all sharp edges and fire, and for a second, he forgets the minefield he’s meant to be tiptoeing through. Has to bite back a smile. You’ve always been this way—more flame than moth, more lightning than thunder. It’s one of the things he loves most about you.

“Is that what this is about?” The words slip out before he can stop them, and the second they do, he knows. Rookie mistake. Your spine straightens, your jaw sets, and he wants to take it back, rewind, try again.

“This,” you echo, turning to face him. “What exactly do you mean by this?”

Spencer reminds himself that fire is never snuffed out with ice. You douse a flame gently, carefully. So, he steps forward, quieter now, fingers grazing yours before he takes your hand in his, guiding you toward the bed. He doesn’t pull, doesn’t rush, just leads you toward the bed with the same patience he knows you need when you’re fragile and burning.

Regardless, you try to resist, to hold yourself upright. You’re fighting the urge to sink into it—His touch, the bed, all of it.

“Sweetheart,” Spencer murmurs, taking a seat beside you. “I know you’re not angry. You’re sad. And I’d really like to know why. Tell me, please?”

Deep inside, you know you’re just clinging on to the last embers of your frustration. But it’s hard—impossible, really, when you’re a fire with no kindle left to burn, and Spencer is all soft whispers and gentle hands, featherlight and soothing.

You hesitate, twisting the fabric of the duvet between your fingers. “I just—I—You were being mean.”

Spencer lets out a slow, quiet breath. Relief, almost. Not because he agrees—He knows himself well enough to be sure that ‘mean’ isn’t the right word. But he knows you well enough to understand what it means when you say it.

Mean is what you say when you’ve been hurt and don’t know how else to put it.

So he follows your lead. Doesn’t fight it.

“M’sorry, sweetheart,” he mumbles stroking your hand with his thumb. His touch is warm as it is gentle.

Because it’s not about whether he was mean or not. Spencer knows that. Knows you. Knows that kindness has never been a given for you, knows that you wouldn’t recognise patience if it came knocking. And he knows you well enough to know that you think in some twisted way, that you’ve brought this hurt upon yourself, that you deserve it.

What matters is that you were hurt. And that’s the one thing he never, ever wants to do.

“I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. Can you tell me how I did?”

“You just kept going on and on about the stupid conference. You didn’t even hug me or—And then you—”

You don’t continue. You can’t. You feel ridiculous. Stupid, even. Mopey and small over something that shouldn’t matter this much. Over the realisation that he doesn’t need you. And why should he? It’s not Spencer’s fault. Not at all.

His indifference is what it is and what it was. Indifference. It sits like a weight on your bones—Cold, sharp-edged, piercing. He can go 5 days without you. You can’t. The tally marks accumulate, unbidden.

“And then I…?” Spencer prompts gently, prying your fingers from the duvet and replacing the tension with his thumb, tracing slow, soothing circles into your palm instead.

“You ignored me, and I just—” Your voice wavers, frustration bubbling over. "I just felt so—so ignored!"

Wonderful vocabulary. Of course, your words would fail you now.

“And the teasing—I know, I know, I can be impossible sometimes, but I just—I just really missed you! And I get it okay? I’m clingy and you’re not and god forbid anybody else is but it’s because I love you!” You inhale sharply, your hands slipping from his to curl into fists in your lap. “And you didn’t react at all, you didn’t even care! You made me feel like—I thought that you—”

You cut yourself off before the flurry of tears take over and drown you out.

Spencer waits a beat, choosing his next words carefully.

“You thought… that I don’t love you?” His voice isn’t laced with sarcasm, nor does it carry incredulity. It’s a genuine question, as though he’s retracing the moments between you, trying to understand how you could possibly come to such a conclusion.

“No, it’s not that—” you’re quick to say, desperate to correct him. You know Spencer loves you. Of course, you know that. How could you not? It’s Spencer. He loves you like it’s his life mission to show you just how much he loves you. “I know you love—I know that. I just—”

You bury your face in your hands, fingers pressing into the hollows beneath your eyes—A feeble attempt at hiding.

Because it’s utterly, bone-deep terrifying. To look into the eyes of the person you love most in the world and feel the weight of a possibility that you might love them more than they love you.

To want to shout: Love me. Please love me, and please feel it with every fibre of your being as I do with mine. The kind of love that makes you want to scream from rooftops, to etch it into the sky, to burn the world down just to prove its enormity.

Because then the question comes: Which would be worse?

To shout into the vast, open air and hear nothing in response? No echo of the same intensity. Or to stand amidst the smouldering ashes only to look into their eyes and find they don’t recognise you anymore? To see confusion or pity where love used to live.

You blink your watery eyes open, but you can’t bring yourself to look at him. Instead, you settle on the knobs of your knees, tracing their shape with your gaze.

Anything but Spencer. Not right now.

You take a sharp breath, steadying yourself before continuing.

“Sometimes, I feel like you don’t need me as much as I need you and that scares me. And I know it’s stupid, even I feel stupid thinking about it. I don’t even want to be codependent or whatever but I—I just can’t help but think that sometimes—”

Your breath shudders out of you, long and uneven, “I love you more than you love me.”

To say Spencer feels his heart break would be an understatement. It’s not a clean break, not a single, shattering moment—it’s a slow, relentless unraveling. It’s a gut punch, pain and duress packed tight, failure laced in every syllable. His heart shatters, splintering into pieces so sharp they lodge in his throat, in his lungs, in every part of him that has ever loved you.

Silently, he’s always known the teasing would hit a breaking point. You’ve worn that insecurity for as long as he’s known you—too young, too green, too desperate to prove yourself. He just didn’t think it would carve its way between you the two of you like this. He’s watched you lean into it, let the jokes land, let them chip away at you. Newbie. Rookie. Lover girl. As if laughing along might soften the edges of it all.

You flop onto your back on the bed, boneless, the confession stealing the last of your fight. There’s a splotch of blue paint on the ceiling from last month, when you both tried to repaint the room and got distracted halfway through. It doesn’t make you smile, not even a little.

“That’s not true.” The mattress dips under Spencer’s weight as he settles beside you, thumb tracing your hairline. His arm moves, coaxing you to toward him, gentle in the way only he knows how to be with you.

“You’re not impossible, sweetheart, you never are. And I know they tease,” he murmurs, fingers of his other hand grazing over your knuckles, “but I also know for a fact that you don’t fall apart without me when I’m gone. That would be co-dependency. And I know that’s not you. You passed your requalifications with flying colors while I was away,” he says. “Garcia sent me the records. You know you even beat Morgan’s old score?”

You sniffle, startled. That had been your surprise. You’d wanted to tell him yourself.

“She told you?”

He shakes his head. “I asked. I always ask for updates on you when I can’t be there.”

A small “Oh,” is all you can get out.

With every other guy you dated, you’d attempted to play it cool, dialling down your enthusiasm, biting back your texts, and pretending to care less than you did. But every relationship seemed to end the same way: you were “a lot” and they weren’t equipped to handle it. It never quite stuck though, and thank god for that.

Because then you met Spencer.

Sweet, steady Spencer, who didn’t just tolerate your spark but cherished it. Spencer, who had let you cling to his hand during every takeoff and landing on the jet the first week on the job. He never flinched, never teased—Even when everyone else casted him sympathetic looks, the kind that silently acknowledged how your grip was probably cutting off his circulation. Spencer who has kept every scrawled doodle and note you’ve ever given for him, even the ones scribbled haphazardly on napkins or receipts. He knows carbon prints fade within months so he stores them in a shoebox tucked away in his cupboard—Just so they can last that much longer.

Spencer didn’t just accept the parts of you others found overwhelming. He singlehandedly brought them back to life. Every bit of your spark that had been dimmed or snuffed out by someone else had found new light in his presence.

Spencer’s fingers tighten around yours, a quiet kind of reassurance that draws you back to the present.

“Being clingy is not the same as being codependent. I know you know that. There’s a clear psychological difference in brain chemistry.” His lips twitch, the smallest hint of a smile slipping through. “You’re clingy, yes. But I love that about you. I love coming home with you. I love coming home to you. I love how hard you love me, how proudly you love me. I know I haven’t been the best at reciprocating that around the team, and I’m sorry. I hate that I made you feel like I didn’t love you, or miss you.”

He shifts closer, eyes searching yours, open and earnest. “Because I did miss you. So much. I nearly blew a month’s paycheck in the gift shop. Spent half of it stocking up on those jelly crackers you told me about.” He shakes his head, like he can’t believe himself. “Morgan said I was whipped when I paid thirty bucks for a pair of souvenir socks.”

With a raise of your eyebrow you ask tearily, “and exactly how many pairs did you buy?”

“Got you three pairs.” A sheepish little laugh escapes him as he ducks his head.

And just like that, you’re smiling too. Albeit a small one, but that’s progress nonetheless. “And I don’t think you quite understand how much I love you when you say you love me more.” He leans in, his voice dropping, teasing. “I don’t know if you know this about me, but I’m very competitive.”

“Oh, so I’ve heard Doctor Reid,” you quip, eyes rolling. Spencer’s lips curve, just slightly. You don’t even notice the way you press closer to him, but Spencer does. He takes the opportunity to go on.

“In a way, you’re right. I don’t need you,” Spencer says. Whiplash doesn’t even begin to describe the way your head snaps toward him. Flame and lighting, no doubt.

“Sorry, sorry,” he says quickly, his expression already twisting in regret. “I shouldn’t have phrased it like that.”

“I don’t see what other way you could possibly phrase something like that,” you snap pettily, already pushing yourself up to stand.

“Hey, hey.” His hand reaches out, not quite grabbing yours but close enough to make you pause. “Lie back down, honey. Please.”

Against your better judgment, you relent, sinking back into the bed. “What I meant to say was, I don’t need you,” he repeats, slower this time, deliberate.

You scoff, a bitter laugh slipping through your lips as you swipe harshly at your damp lashes. “I get it, Spencer. Clearly you don’t.”

“No, I don’t think you do,” he says, his voice unwavering. “Biologically speaking, I wouldn’t cease to exist without you. My heart would continue to beat, my lungs would continue to expand and contract, my brain would maintain its synaptic functions. I would survive.” He pauses then, eyes searching yours, “And can I tell you something?”

You don’t answer, but you don’t pull away either. He takes that as permission to go on. “You don’t need me either.”

Your lips part, the beginnings of a protest forming, but he cuts you off gently.

“I know you said you do, but your autonomic nervous system would still regulate your breathing, your neurons would still fire, your body would persist.” He swallows, voice dipping lower. “But that’s not the point, is it? Love isn’t about biological necessity. It’s not about survival. It’s about choice.”

The word “choice” feels almost ironic when it comes from Spencer Reid. You knew that the moment you met him. It was never really a choice, not for you. It was him, or nothing. Desperately, you'd like to think it was the same for him, too.

Your answer comes in the form of his thumb brushing lightly over your cheek. He’s patient, always, even when you aren’t. Kind in a way that sinks deep—Like you deserve it. You’re all sharp edges, brittle and worn, and he’s five days off a lumpy hotel mattress, yet the only thing he cares about is brushing away the tears from your skin.

“Sweetheart, I don’t love you because I need you. I don’t think that would be love at all. That’s survival. I love you because I choose to,” he continues. “Because you are the strongest person I know. Because you are kind, even when the world hasn’t been kind to you. Because you give so much of yourself without hesitation, without ever expecting anything in return.”

Spencer smiles, shaking his head. “Because you’re the only person I know who will spend thirty minutes on a call recounting every little thing everyone did in the office that you think I’d like to hear about—before you even think to tell me about your own day.”

“It was funny! Since when has Hotch ever tripped on the stairs?”

It’s unfair really, how easily his laugh breathes life back into you. Your heart stumbles over itself as his hand brushes tenderly along your jaw.

“I’ve spent every day in awe of you since the moment I met you. And I fall more and more in love with you with each one. Even on the days I’m not with you. Even on the days I’m miles away. Even then.” Spencer presses his lips against the back of your hand as he adds, “Especially then.”

“Really?”

You can’t help it, the quiet little thing in you that wants to hear it again.

Your tears have dried, but their traces still shimmer faintly on your skin. Spencer presses a kiss to your forehead, his fingers tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. He’d say it again. A hundred times. He’d make that speech a thousand times over, if you needed him to. If it meant you’d never doubt it again.

“Really, my love.”

And just like that, a million tally marks fall at your feet.

A million for the way he presses another kiss to your lips, unrushed. A million more for the way his nose bumps against yours, lingering, breathing you in. Another million for the spark that creeps back into your eyes.

It’s infinite, unbound, unquantifiable—The way he loves you, the sheer depth of it. You feel foolish for ever having questioned it. You thank your lucky stars—all of them—for Spencer Reid. For the way he’s looking at you like you strung the constellations together yourself. For the way he chooses you, again and again, even when you don’t choose him, when you shut down, when you go quiet.

Because love to Spencer isn’t desperation, isn’t need—it’s choice. The deliberate, unwavering act of reaching out, of staying, and of saying over and over: I choose you.

Not because he has to, but because he wants to. To be the one to put you back together again when you’re all embers and ash, to cradle you back onto earth when stare past him into the ceiling, to remind you that there’s still warmth in you left to hold.

To breathe the spark back into your eyes—It’s a choice he made the very moment he met you. It’s a spark Spencer swears he’d spend his whole life keeping alight.

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ hi if you're here! thank you so much for reading! likes, comments or reblogs are very much appreciated!

ᯓ★ song recs if you feel like it: daylight by taylor swift intrapersonal by turnover

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myloveer0 · 2 days ago

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My lovely darling

Girlfriend Ambessa Medarda X Fem!reader

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Summary: You were just trying to survive your family reunion when Ambessa Medarda—your girlfriend—showed up unannounced. Now, you have no choice but to introduce her to your entire clan. What’s got you nervous isn’t just introducing any partner—it’s the fact that you’re dating a woman who also happens to be twice your age.

💋 Enough with the smut we need sweet girlfriend Ambessa💋

Well… I didn’t expect everyone to like it that much, but anyway, here’s part 2. Part 3 will be last and be upload the day after tomorrow.... Enjoy reading!😊😉

Part II

This was not how tonight was supposed to go.

You had it all planned out—show up to the family reunion, smile through the awkward small talk, dodge questions about your love life, and make a graceful exit by faking a headache. The perfect escape. Then you'd be back to your regular life—your job, your apartment, and most importantly, your girlfriend.

Simple. Easy. Safe.

But Ambessa had other plan.

Amazing? She literally flew from the other side of the country just to see you—because she missed you already. Like you’d left her and promised to be back after two weeks.

And now, here she is, showing up before those weeks are even over… and demanded to meet your parents. You should’ve run. You should have. But with Ambessa’s hand wrapped firmly around you telling there was no turning back.

So now, here we were. Standing on your parents’ porch, the warm glow of the house lights peeking through. You could still hear the muffled sounds of laughter and conversation from inside, but all you could focus on was the weight spinning on your mind.

“You nervous?” Ambessa asked, her voice low, amused.

You shot her a look. “You think?”

She chuckled softly, leaning down to brush a kiss against your temple. “Relax. They’ll love me.''

You release a nervous laugh. You weren’t so sure about that.

Standing in front of the double doors, the weight of what was about to

happen doubled this time. You turned to face Ambessa, your heart pounding so loud..

“Bess…” you began. Ambessa raised an eyebrow, waiting. “B-before we go in, I need to say this. No matter what happens—no matter what my parents say—I’m still with you. Nothing will change, okay? We’ll stand together, even if they’re started to go against us.”

Ambessa’s lips curled into a smirk, but her eyes softened. “Of course, dear,” she said with that same effortless confidence, like there was never a doubt in her mind. Like nothing could shake her.

Was she even nervous? She was about to meet your parents for the first time, and yet she looked so calm, so in control while here you are looking like a frightened wet penguin. Wasn’t meeting the parents supposed to be the most terrifying part of a relationship? Even more nerve-wracking than getting married?

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself as you reached out to adjust her suit. Your fingers brushed against the lapels, but you didn’t realize they were trembling until Ambessa's hand gently closed over yours.

You already imagine all the worst-case scenarios before the night would end, and none of them sat well with you. You could possibly lose Ambessa. Or your family. Or worst, both. Just the thought of it made your chest tighten painfully. You didn't want to choose between the people you love.

The mere possibility of it was unbearable. You don't know if you can take it.

Ambessa's touch was grounding, steady, like everything you needed in that moment. Ambessa gently cupped your chin, guiding your face toward hers.

“Little one… look at me.”

You met her gaze, and the calm, steady confidence in her eyes was enough to slow your racing heart.

"Calm down... Everything’s going to be alright. We will be alright." Her voice was soft yet steady "Don’t be nervous—I’m right here, okay?"

You nodded, swallowing hard, and she gave your hand a reassuring squeeze.

Before you could chicken out, you took a last deep breath before you swung the door open. Your heart thudded violently in your chest as you both stepped back inside, and it felt like the entire world paused.

Every conversation stopped mid-sentence.

Every fork froze halfway to someone’s mouth.

Your uncles, who had been lounging on the sofa watching football, paused mid-game, their attention snapping at your direction. Your aunties, mid-gossip, fell silent, their eyes narrowing at the front door. Even the children, who’d been running around shrieking with laughter, slowed to a halt, retreating to their parents like they were afraid on something.

Every pair of eyes—at least thirty family members crammed into the living room and dining area—snapped right to you and your unexpected guest. A shiver ran from your toes all the way up your spine, your heart pounding in panic.

You were just introducing your partner to the family, like your cousin did, but they never gave that kind of attention—the way they’re staring at you and Ambessa now.

It was like time had hit the brakes.

And how could they not?

When the woman beside you was an attention grabber, what more Ambessa was intimidating. She stood taller than the average man, her broad, powerful frame impossible to ignore. Every movement she made was deliberate, exuding a quiet authority that demanded respect and commanded attention the moment she entered a room.

Even board directors didn’t dare challenge her—no one did. Her employees were even terrified of looking onto her eyes or crossing path with her.

You blinked multiple times, trying to steady yourself, before glancing at Ambessa. Not a single hint of nervousness crossed her face. She stood tall and composed, completely unbothered by the dozens of eyes glued to the both of you. You could practically hear the collective whisper ripple through the room.

It wasn’t nice being gawked at, especially by this many people, especially when their eyes keep on shifting from you and Ambessa.

Ambessa was dressed in that perfectly tailored red and black suit—one that probably cost more than your car—she stood out in the best way possible. It was just a casual family gathering, and yet, there she was, looking like she’d stepped off the cover of a high-profile magazine.

And then, through the stunned silence, you spotted her.

Your mother. Eyebrows shot up so fast you thought they might hit her hairline.

You could feel your pulse in your ears. This was it. No turning back now.

Your mother’s brows knit together, her eyes narrowing slightly as she took in the sight of you and Ambessa standing side by side. She didn’t miss the closeness between you— and the way your hands brushed together.

Like she knew.

Like she had already put the pieces together but was desperately hoping she was wrong. But then, with a practiced calm, she clapped her hands together and forced a smile.

“Alright, everyone,” she said, her voice cutting through the tension like a knife. “Let’s not hover. Go on, continue enjoying your food.”

Slowly, like someone had hit play on a paused movie, people started moving again. Conversations resumed, but not without the occasional glance thrown our way. You could feel them peeking, eavesdropping, pretending they weren’t doing exactly that.

And then your parents moved in.

You drag Ambessa as you led toward the dining room. Your mother stood by the table, stirring the salad with slow, deliberate movements. She didn’t look up right away. Your father appeared behind her, his expression was unreadable, but his eyes flicked from you to Ambessa—and then back again

Meanwhile, your mother’s gaze turned laser-focused as you both stopped in front of her. Her eyes immediately darted down to yours and Ambessa's intertwined fingers.

Which made your palm run ice cold. Ambessa must’ve felt it too because she tightened her grip slightly, giving you support as her warmth seeping into your skin.

You glanced around the room, wishing the ground would just open up and swallow you whole. Why was everyone staring at you like you were the evening’s drama? You could practically feel the tension crackling in the air.

Your mom’s lips pressed into a thin line. “And who,” she began, her voice deceptively polite, “might this guest be?”

Before you could say anything, Ambessa took a step forward.

“Ambessa Medarda,” she said, offering her hand with the kind of poised confidence that could melt glaciers—or in this case, try to thaw your mother’s frosty demeanor. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet Y/N's parents.”

Your mom stared at her hand like it might bite, but she eventually took it—barely—but then turned to you, her eyes pointing dagger demanding an explanation. Your Dad, still buffering, finally shook himself out of his daze and gave Ambessa a quick handshake.

You swallowed hard, trying to steady your voice. "Ambessa, this is my mom and dad. Mom, Dad… this is Ambessa."

...

"She’s… my girlfriend," you added, your voice softer but clear.

For a moment, it felt like time itself had stopped.

You could feel the shock ripple through the room. Eyes widened. A few audible gasps echoed in the sudden silence, and you swore even the ticking clock on the wall seemed louder than before.

You understood their reactions perfectly. Your whole life, they had known you as a straight woman—never once had you hinted otherwise. You were so good at hiding it. And now, here you were, standing before them, introducing your first-ever lover… who just so happened to be a woman.

It wasn’t just introducing Ambessa; it was, in a way, coming out. Tearing down the version of you they thought they knew and revealing something they’d never expected. You could see it in their eyes—the shock, the disbelief, the scrambling to process what this meant. And being the only gay person in the family? It was a whole new revelation for everyone.

And as much as you tried to steel yourself for this moment, you couldn’t help the nervous knot twisting in your stomach..

Your mom’s eyes widened,

''G-girlfriend?” she repeated, like she wasn’t sure she’d heard you right. The word hanging in the air like an accusation.

She immediatly stopped on what she was doing. Then, with a disbelieving shake of her head, she let out a sharp little laugh. “Since when did you have a lover? And her? really… a woman? Y/N”

You felt like you were going to be sick. Your throat tightened, but you forced yourself to nod. “Yes.”

Her lips twitched—not a smile, more like an involuntary reaction she couldn’t quite control. “Are you being serious? Right now?”

Before you could answer, Ambessa’s voice cut in.

“Yes,” she said firmly, her gaze locking onto your mother’s “We’re serious.”

From the look on Ambessa's face, she was clearly quite upset by your mother’s tone.

Your mother was just about to start arguing when your father gently pulled her aside, murmuring something to calm her down. Surprisingly, she let him, though the tension in her face made it clear she was far from pleased.

“Now, now… save the conversation for later,” your father said smoothly, shooting you a look before turning back to Ambessa. “A-ambessa right? Have you had dinner yet? I bet you haven’t. Why don’t you grab a plate and help yourself?”

Relief flooded you, and you shot your father a grateful look. He only smiled, giving you a quick wink.

You were about to guide Ambessa toward the food when you noticed she hadn’t moved. Furrowing your brows, you turned to her. “Bess…?”

Before she could answer, you caught movement from the corner of your eye—Ricktus, her ever-loyal guard, stepping inside, both hands occupied with something.large.

“Before that,” Ambessa spoke, “I’d like to give something first.” She gestured toward the items in Ricktus’ hands. “I brought some gift baskets. It’s not much, but I didn’t realize Y/N had quite a big family.”

All eyes turned toward the baskets, and you could practically hear the collective shift in the room. These weren’t ordinary gift baskets—they were luxurious, the kind only the wealthy could afford. Even from a distance, you could see the careful arrangement of imported wines, artisanal chocolates, and items that looked far too expensive for anyone to afford.

Your father let out a nervous chuckle, offering a polite tone “Ah—thank you, you didn't need to but that’s very kind.” He reached out to take one, but Ricktus didn’t let go. Instead, the guard gave a small, respectful nod.

“Forgive him but they’re quite heavy,” Ambessa said evenly, her tone smooth yet firm. “Let my men carry them—just tell us where you’d like them placed.”

....

The meal was tense. You could barely swallow the food in front of you, your stomach knotted with nerves. Other than Ambessa, the martini in your hand was the only thing giving you strength. Your mom was definitely more upset than you had imagined. She had been demanding for years that you finally introduce someone—and here you were, doing exactly that. But clearly, this wasn’t what she had expected. What a way to suprise everyone..

It had been hour, and the crowd had thinned as the night stretched on. A few of the younger kids had finally tired themselves out, curled up in corners or carried off to bed by their parents. The once lively energy had settled into something quieter, more subdued.

Some of your aunts had struck up light conversation with Ambessa—mostly out of curiosity, you suspected—but you could tell they were still hesitant. And then there was your mother.

She hadn’t said a word to you.

Not since then. Not since everything.

She wasn’t throwing a fit or making a scene, but that almost made it worse. The way she moved around the room, politely engaging with everyone except you—it was deliberate. A silent cold shoulder. Like you hadn’t just been laughing together at your uncle’s joke moments ago.

And damn, it hurt.

Meanwhile, Ambessa? the unbothered queen, savoring every bite like she was at a five-star banquet instead of sitting in the middle of this emotional minefield.

She was even enjoying your mother’s homemade mac and cheese, which was shocking considering how picky of an eater she was. Even a world-renowned chefs had to bent over backward trying to impress her, and yet here she was, casually indulging in a simple family recipe.

You sat beside her leaned in slightly, your elbow resting on the table, your head propped up by your hand as you watched her. Seeing her eat—actually eat, rather than picking at her food like she usually did—made you happy. It was such a simple thing, but it meant something.

Your voice was low, “I like what you did to your hair.”

Ambessa's usual free-flowing curls were now braided back into a triple dutch braid, weaving tightly along her scalp in thick sections into the center one. A few white strands near the front contrasted against the dark, adding a striking edge to her already commanding presence. She looked good. No—she looked ridiculously good.

Ambessa paused mid-bite, glancing at you. “Ah, yes, little one… You did say you liked it this way.” She smirked, setting her fork down. “So, I had it styled before I got here.”

Your lips parted slightly. “You did it… for me?”

She hummed, taking another bite, as if it was no big deal.

Your heart stuttered, and heat crept up your cheeks. “Well, I do like it,” you admitted, staring at her shamelessly. “I can see your face clearly. You look so—”

Ambessa cut you off, her gaze sharp and knowing. “I see what you’re doing, little one.” Her voice dipped lower, teasing but firm. “But don’t flirt with me right now. You might not like what I do to you in front of your family.”

You choked on your drink. Your cheeks burned as you quickly averted your gaze.

What is wrong with this woman?!

Ambessa just chuckled, sipping her wine like she hadn’t just sent your brain into a tailspin.

You were lost in your little moment, completely wrapped up in Ambessa’s teasing, when someone cleared their throat. You both turned, and it was none other than the devil itself—your mother.

Your stomach dropped. Shit.

How could you forget she was sitting just two seats away? You had been so caught up in Ambessa’s presence that you completely overlooked the fact that your mother had full view of your shameless flirting. You could only hope she didn't hear any of it.

Wine glass in hand. Then your mother began to approached and took a seat—this time, directly in front of you. The shift was small, but it was enough to make the entire table fall quiet.

A few of your family had noticed it too.

Your mom wasn’t done. You could feel it. Maybe she was just waiting for the crowd to subside, which, in a way, was a relief—at least you wouldn’t have to endure her torture in front of an audience.

Your mother, set down her drink with an audible clink and looked directly at Ambessa “So,” she began, “Ambessa… what do you do?”

You winced internally. Here we go

______

Taglist:) @jhyoos @dakotapaigelove @daenerysluvrr @marve1stranger @angrywhisperslove @ghostie1131 @natsaffection @vyvvycg @euphoricnyctophilia @cloudstoday @imconfusrd @chezze-its

#ambessa #ambessa medarda #ambessa x reader #ambessa arcane #ambessa league of legends #ambessa x you #ambessa x y/n #arcane #arcane s2 #arcane season 2 #lesbian #wlw

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just-some-random-blogger · 1 day ago

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CRYINNNGGGGG SOBBBINGGHHHHGG I HATE THAT I MISSED THIS I WOULD HAVE NEVER SEEN IT IF YOU DIDN'T TELL ME FUCKKKKKK BABEEE

You still couldn't believe Jack stood you up. Left you looking like an idiot in the Three Broomsticks, alone and glowering into your fruity red drink, surrounded by pink streamers and heart balloons larger than your head. Completely humiliating.

Like that one tiktoker said, embarrassment is a choice and you know what he's absolutely right. Gird your loins and wwe smackdown that piece of shit

And bizarrely, you felt like you deserved it for putting up with his bullshit for so long.

😬 yeesh therapy. But yeah we do accept the love we think we deserve

Never directed towards you, of course, Jack and his friends bore the brunt of his wrath. It was enough that Jack steered clear of both George and his twin, who always matched his energy.

Bruhhh he was a red flag from the start 😬😬😬😬 YEEESH I never understand how people can go into relationships like this but the again what the fuck do I know

Tears burned behind your eyes again, and you tried pushing through with a little more force.

Aw my girl 🥺💔

You looked up from your feet and locked eyes with George, who was hurriedly shifting a girl off his lap, ignoring her whine of protest while she grabbed at his white shirt.

SJDKDHJDJSJSJ I FEEL BAD FOR THAT GIRL WHO FINALLY GOT GEORGE ONLY TO VE CAST ASIDE SMKSKSNDNKSJS RIP BESTIE YOU WOULD AHVE LOVED RSVP'ING

You made it to the stairs, but there was no outrunning those long legs—a lesson you'd learned countless times.

🫵 UNNECESSARYILY🫵TALL🫵🫵🫵🫵

[...] And where's the bilge-rat you call a boyfriend?”

hES SO FUCKING FUNNY AND SO FUCKING UNAWARE BABES SHES FUCKKNG CRYUNG CANT YOU PUT TWO AND TWO TOGETHER FUCKKK HANNSJSJSNSNSNNSNSNNSS

You didn't respond, opening the door to your dorm and trying to slam it in George's face, but he caught it and pushed in behind you.

??????❓❓❓❓ PUTTING YOUR HAND BETWEEN A CLOSING DOOR IS CRAZY WORK ARE YOU KIDDING ME WHAT THE FUCK

“Break his teeth in? Throw him in the lake? Set his hair on fire—”

“Hey.” George squeezed your hands, shaking you. “Don't talk about my girl that way. You did nothing wrong.”

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH MYYYY GGIRRRLLLLL❓❓❓❓❓❓❓❓❓❓❓

“Congratu-fucking-lations, you were right. You got what you wanted. Are you happy now?”

The crowd goes mild but you're so me fr. 🎉Wallowing in self pity

“Just—go back to your party, George. I'm sure that doe-eyed girl is still waiting for you,” you hissed. It was a low blow, but you just wanted him gone so you could wallow in self-pity alone.

“Do you want me to find him?” He asked, voice a carefully measured calm.

HES SO

I LOVE THIS ART OF THEM SO MUCH I SWEAR

Suddenly, he was moving. His hands griped your waist, spinning your around and pressing you back into the vanity. His expression was severe. “Don't fucking do that,” he bit. “Don't act like I'm the bad guy when all I've wanted—” his voice caught in his throat, and he turned his head away, like he couldn't look at you.

youtube

He grinned back, glancing down at your wet dress. “C’mon, get out of this wet cupcake and meet me in my dorm, I have something for you.”

HES SO FUCKING FUNNY WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT GEORGE

“The one that exploded pink powder all over my face?”

GEORGE EHAT DO YOU MEAN IT EXPLODED ON HERRR WHAT WERE YOU DOINGGGGG YOU FUMBLED THE BAG SO HARDFDDDD

But also nah that would have worked on me

But when you started dating Jack, he'd gotten pissed at you for wearing it, and you'd hidden it at the bottom of your trunk, never quite ready to give it back to George.

........ Who's gonna tell her..... Wtf is this behavior.... Ngl she kinda toxic for that jack built like that cos she built like this fucking helll

“Naughty girl, lying to me.” Fred winked, and you swatted his shoulder. “But don't worry, love. The boys are on it!”

NAUGHTY GIRL WHAT DO YOU MEAN FRED HELLO????????????????¿????? HWY ADE YOU RUNNING WHERE AR EYOU GOIGN

George reached out to cradle your face, catching your tears with his thumbs. His eyes were so sweet, so sincere, it made your teeth ache. “Do you want me?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, but the words still felt like a punch through your chest.

“Not even when you're all alone, and Jack’s left you half-loved, tangled in your sheets…you don't think about me coming in there and taking care of you?”

WHYS HE SO POETIC WHAT ARE YOU ON N N N WHATTTTT ISS THISS

“The bare minimum,” he teased, nipping at your earlobe. “You make it so easy to love you.” His hands squeezed at your flesh, his breath hot against your neck as he continued rocking your hips together. “So fucking sexy, so responsive. I knew you'd be perfect—” he grunted when you thrust your hips back up against him.

AND THEN THIS FUCKING PART

HER PUSSY THROBBING ISSSS CRAZZZYYYYY AHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAH I LITERALLY LAUGHED SO HARD SHES A REAL ONE THO AHHAHAHA

“Merlin, you're soaked,” he purred, kissing up your neck and capturing your lips in a messy, top-lip kiss. His finger swirled around your puffy clit, applying just enough pressure to have pleasure radiating through your body. “You get this wet for him, baby?” He whispered, dipping his fingertips into your entrance, once, twice, before sinking down to the knuckle. “Little cunt sucking me right in. She was ready for me, hm?”

hES INSANE TALKING YOU THROUGH IT WHILE TRASH TALKING YOUR EX IS INSANE WORK GEORGE WEASLEY EVERYONE JUMPING INTO LAVA I GUESS

A broken sound hissed through his teeth. Jealousy bloomed in his eyes, his jaw feathering with irritation.

I DONT HAVE A WAY TO EXPLAIN HOW I FEEL ABOUT HOW FUCKING PRETTY I KNOW HE LOOKS THAN THIS

George @ jack btw

“Oh, you poor thing,” George cooed, adding a second finger and stroking the same spot again, your whole body hitching up the bed at the intensity of it. But his body weight held you down, his mouth painting gentle kisses along your skin to try and soothe you. “He never touch you like this? Never found that spot—fuck, right there, baby? That's it?”

ITS FINE IM FINE ITS OKAY IM NOT SUFFERING LIKE FARAMIR OR ANYTHING

“You've got a slutty little thong under here, don't you?” He asked, toying with the waistband of your shorts.

And cream

“Maybe,” you said, half-distracted by his cock jumping at the sound of your voice, the tip slick with precum.

She like me fr

He glanced down, following your gaze, and chuckled. “My eyes are up here, pretty girl,” he chastised with a light slap to your inner thigh.

I am not better than a man

“For later, yeah?” He said, smirking when your eyes rolled back when he tapped your clit with the head. “So next time I see that fucker, I can show him exactly what he lost.”

THE WAY I HAD TO REREAD THIS PART COS I WAS LIKE WHAT???? I WAS LIKE THERES NO HICKEY NO NOTHING THEN I STARTED PANICKING I WAS LKKE WAS HE GONNA GET HEE PREGNANT?????? I mean........ BUT LIKE??? NOO LIKE then I realized it as the underwear and then I just started imagining George biting them and waving them around and then I was mentally unwell

“Of course,” he beamed, carefully taking the the jewelry and clasping it around your wrist, [...]

Bestie I can't read i thought it said waist and I was like I thought it was a bracelet I was about to scroll up but then I was like it's fine if it's a waist thing I'll accept it. Thankfully I read it right

“Always.” He dropped a kiss on top of your head, then grabbed the gift back from you, pulling out a handful of candy and popping one of the lollipops into his mouth. “Not as sweet as your pussy, but…”

AJJDJDJDJJDJD HES GOT SUCH A DIRTYMOUTHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH FUCKKKKKKKKKKK lemme sit on it

George was up in a blink, his chest littered with the marks you gave you him, and pushed through the curtain. “Well, well. Seems you aren't dead, or maimed…so what exactly is your excuse for standing up my girl on Valentine's Day?” George asked.

Yeah so like remember when I said UHHHH pregnancy noooo. Yeah 1000000 babies

“I don’t have to explain myself to you, I—your girl?” Jack hissed. “She's mine.”

Not to bring a baby into this but

This is exactly how I feel. The audacity is astounding

George chuckled. “Love, would you like to come out here and set the record straight?”

You dont even know how hot he is in my head. You write him so hot. He's so hot. Fuck

AND THIS ENTIRE PART

NSJJSJSJSJSJJSHSHSBBSSN HOWWLLLLONNGGGGGGG SHAKING WITH LAUGHTER INSANE WORKKK HES SO WAR FREAK I WILL FREAK HIM SO HARDDD FUCKKKK OFFF

George was leaning against the bed frame, lollipop in his cheek, a triumphant smirk on his face.

You're a lollipop. HES SO HOT YOU DONT EVEN NOW ALLIE WHA THE FUCK

You thrust your knee up, nailing him right in the bollocks, and he howled so loud the other boys dropped him into a heap on the floor.

👁️👄👁️🧍‍♀️😶😶😶😶😶😶😶😶😶😶😶 DAMN NNNNN

“That's my girl,” George cooed, taking the lollipop of his mouth to kiss you properly, the strawberry flavor sweet on his tongue. He waved at the others over your head as he deepened the kiss, and you heard them all file out, laughing and jeering as they dragged Jack behind them, the door swinging shut and locking.

🫵WAR🫵 FREAK 🫵 STRAWBERRY FLAVORED KISSES ARE INSANE. Instigators of violence these lot are but yah it do be like that when you roll with fucking George want-me-to-find-him Weasley

Easy to Love | G.W. 🩷

feat George Weasley x bsf!reader

SUMMARY: You get stood up by your boyfriend on Valentine's Day. Thankfully, your best friend George is ready to give you the Valentine's you deserve.

CW: MDNI 18+, smut, hurt/comfort, cheating on shitty boyfriends, idiots to lovers, petty!George, dirty talk, oral, piv, dom!George, all the Valentine's fluff

AN: happy valentines day!!!! you all have my heart 🫶

masterlist

Your hurried footsteps echoed along the empty corridor, dampened by the screaming rain pouring from the thick blanket of clouds over the castle.

Fucking perfect, you thought, bitterly wiping tears and splattered rain from your cheeks. It was like the universe was taunting you.

Stood up by your boyfriend on Valentine's Day? Forced to walk back to Hogwarts in shame? Here, have some torrential downpour to really set the mood.

Of all the shitty things he'd done to you over the last six months, this took the cake. And bizarrely, you felt like you deserved it for putting up with his bullshit for so long. You should have seen this coming from a mile away.

But you were too native, too stupid to see the red flags right under your nose. Well, that wasn't true. You saw them. You were just too scared to do anything about it.

Too scared to be alone. Too proud to admit you were wrong about him.

Merlin, George was going to be so fucking smug.

Your best friend, George Weasley, hated Jack. He hated Jack more than you'd ever seen him hate anyone. George had never had a problem with your past partners, albeit there was only two. But something about Jack brought out a side of George you’d never seen: vindictive, petty, mean.

Never directed towards you, of course, Jack and his friends bore the brunt of his wrath. It was enough that Jack steered clear of both George and his twin, who always matched his energy.

You knew George was just looking out for you, trying to protect you from, well, this. What you were feeling now. But you'd be damned if you gave him the satisfaction of being right.

Finally, the Fat Lady greeted you with a warm smile as you reached the top of the stairs. “Not out celebrating, lovey? Look at you, you're soaked!”

You sighed, looking down at your new dress, a babydoll in your favorite shade of pink, the fabric mottled with water and clinging to your skin. “Men suck*,*” you said.

The Fat Lady laughed. “They certainly do! What's the password, dear?”

You have it to her, and she swung open, a wadt of thumping music and the week of alcohol washed over you.

Shit. You'd completely forgotten about the Valentine's party tonight. While a drink sounded lovely, a drunken grind-fest was the last thing you wanted to participate in.

You pushed your way through the crowd, trying to make a beeline towards the girls dormitory. The crowd was thick, pushing and shoving, while music thumped loudly in your brain. Red hearts and cupids and streamers, were everywhere, a sheen of pink glitter starting to collect on your still-damp skin. Everywhere you looked, couples were all over each other, making out of dancing to the music, cuddled up on every available surface.

Tears burned behind your eyes again, and you tried pushing through with a little more force.

You popped out into a quieter area by the roaring fire, a circle of chairs occupied by the Quidditch team and a few others, which meant—

“Y/n?”

You looked up from your feet and locked eyes with George, who was hurriedly shifting a girl off his lap, ignoring her whine of protest while she grabbed at his white shirt.

The knife of hurt inexplicably twisted deeper in your gut, and you turned your back to him, pushing the other way through the crowd.

“Hey—wait!”

You made it to the stairs, but there was no outrunning those long legs—a lesson you'd learned countless times.

George snagged your wrist, turning you back towards him. “What happened?” The furrow between his brows deepened when he took in your tearful, soaked form. “Why are you wet? And where's the bilge-rat you call a boyfriend?”

You yanked your hand out of his hold. “Fuck if I know,” you snapped, trudging up the stairs, George on your heels.

“What do you mean? Didn't you have a date?” He asked, his tone getting angrier by the second.

You didn't respond, opening the door to your dorm and trying to slam it in George's face, but he caught it and pushed in behind you.

“Fuck, will you just tell me what happened? Are you okay?” He made an effort to soften his voice, catching your purse when you flung it at him.

“No, I'm not okay!” You cried, finally facing him, tears rolling down your cheeks. “Jack stood me up. He left me at the bar and—” emotion pinched your throat, cutting off your words.

You watched George cycle through the five stages of grief, frozen in the middle of the room. Then—

“Do you want me to find him?” He asked, voice a carefully measured calm.

“And do what?” You wiped at your cheeks, beyond frustrated. You couldn't decide if you wanted him to fuck off, or give you one of those big bears hugs he was so good at.

“Break his teeth in? Throw him in the lake? Set his hair on fire—”

“Stop it, George,” you muttered, sounding more defeated than angry.

He crossed the room to you, taking your trembling hands. “How can I fix it, love?” he asked, peering down at your pitiful, makeup smudged face.

You shook your head, avoiding his perceptive gaze. “Unless you have a time-turner to make me less of an idiot—”

“Hey.” George squeezed your hands, shaking you. “Don't talk about my girl that way. You did nothing wrong.”

You jerked your hands away, pushing past him and stalking over towards you vanity. “Please. You wanted me to leave him before we even got together. You made it abundantly clear how much you hated him.”

“Of course I did. He’s a prick—”

“So, clearly, you think I did something wrong by staying with him.” You angrily tugged your hair out of its style, wet strands tangled and getting frizzy, and started scrubbing off your makeup with a towelette. “Congratu-fucking-lations, you were right. You got what you wanted. Are you happy now?”

George looked like you'd struck him, hovering behind you in the mirror. You hated that he looked so handsome tonight in his white button down and dark wash jeans, his copper hair messy and flecked with glitter and heart-shaped confetti. It made it so much harder to be angry with him.

“You think this is what I wanted?” He asked. “The last thing I want is to see you hurting. Of course I'm not fucking happy that you're heartbroken. Even if it is over some limp-dick weasel.”

You scoffed, though you knew that was true, but it was easier to be angry right now. Easier to push him away than let him in.

George pressed on. “I'd like to hang him by the bollocks from the Whomping Willow for leaving you out in that storm, for all the shit he's done to you—”

“Just—go back to your party, George. I'm sure that doe-eyed girl is still waiting for you,” you hissed. It was a low blow, but you just wanted him gone so you could wallow in self-pity alone.

His hands were burning through the thin fabric of your dress, his grip tight enough to ache, and you felt a long-suppressed heat kindle in your belly. George had manhandled you plenty of times: throwing you over his shoulder, dragging you by the hand through the halls, lifting you to retrieve a book from a high shelf. But this felt…different. Charged in a way you'd spent years trying to ignore for the sake of your friendship.

“What, George?” You asked, gripping the edge of the vanity so you didn't reach out to touch him.

He sighed. “When all I've wanted is to make you happy.” He looked at you again, his dark eyes filled with hurt and something warm, honeyed, that you refused to acknowledge.

Your anger crumbled into guilt. “I-I should have listened,” you croaked, tears rising once again. “I'm sorry, I—”

“No, no. None of that,” he shushed, bundling you into his chest, his arms wrapped tightly around your shoulders. “You have nothing to apologize for.”

“I just feel so…so stupid,” you whimpered, crying into the safety of his chest, enveloped in the spiced, slightly sweet smell of his cologne.

“You aren't stupid, love. Far from it,” he soothed, hand smoothing up and down your spine. “This is on him, not you. You don't deserve to be treated like this.” He rocked you gently while you cried, cooing softly in your ear and keeping you grounded with his touch, until finally, your sobs ebbed to sniffles, and you drew a full, shaky breath. “There you go,” he said. “Take another one—that’s it. I've got you.”

“Thanks, Georgie,” you sniffled into his shirt.

“No need to thank me. I'm sorry that your Valentine's was ruined,” he murmured into your hair.

“I'm sorry yours was ruined too,” you mumbled, your fists tightening in the soft fabric of his shirt, pulling him a fraction closer, unwilling to part just yet.

“Ruined?” He chuckled. “Got my Valentine right here.” He squeezed you a little tighter, the air wheezing for your lungs until you laughed.

“Since when am I your Valentine?” You asked, pulling back to look up at him, a traitorous stab of affection making your heart skip. Shit, you should not be feeling these things for your best friend. It was just your hurt feelings, the holiday—nothing more.

“Since second year when I gave you that heart-shaped box of chocolates,” he said, pretending to be offended that you didn't remember.

“The one that exploded pink powder all over my face?”

George grimaced. “I forgot it did that…sorry, by the way.”

You smiled, pinching his freckled cheek. “You're forgiven.”

He grinned back, glancing down at your wet dress. “C’mon, get out of this wet cupcake and meet me in my dorm, I have something for you.”

“Cupcake?” You rolled your eyes, finally stepping out of his arms, though his hand lingered on your waist until you were fully out of arms reach. “It's a dress!”

“If you say so,” he teased, perusing your legs as you walked away. “I prefer your bunny pajamas, but—”

You chucked your shoe at him. “Fuck off, I'll see you in a second.”

He held his hands up in surrender and slipped out the door, closing it softly behind him.

What on earth could have have for you? Probably his usual box of chocolates, you mused as you peeled off the soggy fabric. Hopefully the non-explosive variety.

You riffled through your trunk, searching for something oversized and comfortable. But to your dismay, nearly everything large enough was your boyfriends, and you absolutely refused to wear something of him.

But at the very bottom of your trunk, something familiar caught your eye. You pulled it out, unveiling an old Quidditch hoodie, the letters faded and fabric soft from countless washes. George had lent it to you before a particularly cold match, and Gryffindor won in a landslide. It became a good luck charm of sorts, one you wore to every game there after.

But when you started dating Jack, he'd gotten pissed at you for wearing it, and you'd hidden it at the bottom of your trunk, never quite ready to give it back to George.

It smelled of green grass and open sky, and you tugged it over your head, letting it's warmth envelop you. Then, you put on a pair of sleep shorts and fuzzy socks, and padded out of the room towards George's, knocking twice before letting yourself in.

Fred and George were standing by the window, arguing in hushed voices, and straightened abruptly when you walked in.

“Hey, gorgeous!” Fred said, crossing the room and pulling you into a back-breaking hug. He reeked of beer. “How are we?”

“Peachy,” you replied tightly, glancing at George over Fred’s shoulder. He was scratching the back of his head, looking sheepish.

“Naughty girl, lying to me.” Fred winked, and you swatted his shoulder. “But don't worry, love. The boys are on it!”

“The boys? Wait—Fred!” But he was already gone, the door swinging shut behind him. You glared at George, and he held his hands up.

“They were worried about you!” He said defensively. “We care about you, y’know…” his voice trailed off when his eyes landed on your hoodie. “You still have that?”

Heat creeped up your neck. “’Course I do.”

“I thought shit-for-brains made you—”

“He tried,” you replied, tension coiling around the two of you once again.

A smirk lifted the corner of his mouth. “My good luck charm,” he chuckled, and your heart leapt into your throat.

“So, what do you have for me?” You asked, sitting on the edge of his bed like you always did. But something in his eyes flashed, making your lower belly heat.

What was going on with him?

He pushed himself from the wall and walked towards his trunk, just to the left of you. He rummaged around, withdrawing a pink gift bag with heart-covered tissue paper sticking out from the top.

“Oh, George…you didn't have to do this,” you said when he sat beside you.

“I wanted to.” He shrugged, setting the bag on your lap.

Heart pounding in your chest, you carefully removed the tissue paper, finding a pile of candy: chocolates and gummy lips and heart-shaped lollipops. There were also a few sachets of your favorite tea, pilfered from the kitchen, you imagined, and a copy of the book you'd been eyeballing your last trip to Hogsmeade with him and Fred.

Your heart was so full you feared it may burst. “Georgie, this is so sweet, thank you—”

“There's one more thing,” he said, gently taking the bag from you. He stuck his hand all the way to the bottom, and withdrew a small, pink-wrapped box with a ribbon tied around it.

The air was sucked from your lungs, ears ringing with shock as you gingerly took the box from him. He fidgeted beside you as you slowly unwrapped the paper, fingers trembling. The energy was taught around you, practically humming with tension.

A velvet box fell into your palm, the most gorgeous shade of burgundy with a delicate golden latch.

You almost didn't want to open it, terrified of what this meant, but so giddy you could sing. George, the poor guy, looked ready to burst out of his skin with impatience.

Carefully, you opened the lid. Inside was a gorgeous chain bracelet, the metal polished to perfection, with two charms resting against the velvet pillow. A tiny heart with your initial etched onto it, and a small fox, George's favorite mischievous, red-haired critter.

You pressed a hand to your mouth, tears pooling on your lower lashes. It was the most thoughtful gift you'd ever received. “George, I—”

“And you can get more charms, there's a shop in Hogsmeade with loads, books and birds and stars--”

You flung your arms around his neck, cutting off his nervous rambling. “I love it, Georgie, thank you,” you murmured into the crook of his neck.

He relaxed, his arms looping around your waist. “Of course,” he replied.

You pulled back, wiping at your cheeks with the back of your hand, inspecting the little fox. It crossed your mind that if Jack saw this, he'd be livid, probably go so far as to threaten George, break off the precious little fox, and your smile fell.

“Hey, what happened?” George asked, shifting to kneel in front of you as you curled inward. “You don't like the fox?”

“No, no—” you tried to suppress the tears forcing their way up. “I love the fox. I just—”

George's expression hardened. “Jack won't like it,” he said, an edge to his voice. “You're not going to stay with him, are you?”

You shook your head. “No, I'm not. But we're technically still together—”

“That's bullshit,” George snarled, pushing to his feet and stalking away from you. “He fucking forfeited his right when he left you alone like that. You could have gotten hurt. He just fucking abandoned you and is probably off with some other bird—”

A sob broke free from your chest, and he halted his tirade, shoulders sagging.

“Do you want him?” George asked, crouching in front of you again.

You shook your head. “No, I don’t,” you admitted.

Your mind was reeling. Of course, a part of you always wanted more with him, but… “I do, of course I do…but what if that ruins everything?” Your fingers curled into his shirt. “I don't want to lose you—”

“Never,” he said, shaking you so you met his eyes. “Never.”

“Relationships are different, though. What if we don't work like…that?”

His hands moved down to hold your neck, his touch gentle but insistent, your pulse thundering under his fingertips. “I’m still me, and you're still you. Are you going to look me in the eyes and tell me you haven't thought about it? That you haven't felt the pull?”

You don't reply, averting your eyes from his face.

“Not even when you're all alone, and Jack’s left you half-loved, tangled in your sheets…you don't think about me coming in there and taking care of you?”

Heat scorched your cheeks, your thighs clenching at the low purr of his voice, a pitch you hadn't heard before.

“Because I think about it all the time.”

You pussy throbbed and you gasped, shocked by the way your body was reacting to his words alone, your mind scrambling to keep up with this new reality you've stumbled into.

“Knowing I could treat you better, love you better—it keeps me up at night, baby. Imagining all the ways I could take care of you, make you happy, make you mine—”

Unable to stand it any longer, you yanked him forward and connected your mouth with his, cutting him off. He groaned, surging up to tackle you back onto his mattress, his lips hungry and rough against yours. Your whole body felt like it was on fire, his lips, his touch, his heat, burning you from the inside out.

No one has ever kissed you like that before, desperate, ravenous. With an eagerness that was palpable, his heart thundering against yours as he pressed impossibly closer to you.

He pried open your lips with his, his tongue plunging into your mouth with fervid strokes. One of his hands slid under your hoodie, caressing the bare skin of your hip and up your side, leaving tingles in the wake of his calloused palm. His other hand found the crook of your knee, lifting it up to hug his waist, opening your legs so he could press closer, harder…

“George!” You gasped when he rolled his hips against yours, the hard ridge of his cock straining against his jeans, your tiny shorts offering next to no barrier.

“Fuck, I've wanted to hear that for so long,” he panted, burying his face into your neck to kiss and lick at the sensitive skin. “Sound so pretty, baby.” He rolled his hips again, and your whole body arched closer to him, desperate for more as a weak whine spilled from your lips. The seam of his jeans caught your swelling clit just right, making your entire body hum with desire.

“Merlin’s fuck—what are you doing to me?” You keened, fumbling with the buttons of his shirt, starving for the feel of his skin against yours.

You finally managed to get his shirt off, pushing it over his shoulders and he tossed it onto the floor. The pale stretch of freckled skin on his chest made your mouth water, but you didn't get to admire him for long. He tugged your hoodie over your head, casting it across the room, and revealing the near see-through lacy red thing you'd selected for the evening and didn't bother changing out of.

A broken sound hissed through his teeth. Jealousy bloomed in his eyes, his jaw feathering with irritation.

You reached up to caress his cheek, drawing his eyes to your face. “He never got to see it,” you cooed, petting the hard line of his jaw and coaxing him to relax. “All yours now, yeah? No one else's.”

His eyes searched your face, anger melting into scalding desire. “Say it again,” he rasped.

“All yours,” you hummed, pecking his lips.

His hand spread across your collarbones, long fingers stretching nearly shoulder to shoulder, and he shoved you roughly back onto the bed. The next moment, his mouth was on your chest, hot and warm through the thin lace as he smeared open-mouthed kisses along your skin. His tongue lashed one peaked nipple, drawing a cry from your lips as he sucked the bud and fabric between his teeth.

Your hands flew into his hair, tugging and guiding his mouth where you wanted him, and he went willingly, eager for any and all contact, quick to repeat the tricks that made your breath hitch.

His hand slid down your stomach, beneath he waist band of your shorts, and he dragged his middle finger through your dripping slit, a high-pitched moaning making him smile against your chest.

“G-George,” his name was a fractured whimper on your tongue, your mind going fuzzy when he curled his finger up, hitting a spot that you'd never felt before.

You bobbled your head like an idiot, grinding your hips back into his hand as he started fucking his fingers into you more deliberately, the lewd, gooey smack of your pussy filling the dorm.

“Good girl,” he praised, propping himself up to peer down at you, eyes blown wide with lust as he took in your trembling, sweat-kissed skin. “How did I get so fucking lucky?” He asked, leaning down to kiss you again, all softness and affection, so different than the relentless way he was dominating your cunt.

You pawed at his jeans, tugging at his belt. “Mmph, please—need you,” you whined against his mouth, and he groaned.

“Fuck, you're killing me, love,” he grated, his hips bucking into your hand. “You want my cock that bad?”

You nodded, still struggling with his belt.

He pushed off of you and undid his belt, removing his jeans and shoes in record time, his flushed cock slapping up against his stomach. He grabbed you by the ankle and tugged you to the edge of the bed.

“You've got a slutty little thong under here, don't you?” He asked, toying with the waistband of your shorts.

“Maybe,” you said, half-distracted by his cock jumping at the sound of your voice, the tip slick with precum.

He glanced down, following your gaze, and chuckled. “My eyes are up here, pretty girl,” he chastised with a light slap to your inner thigh. He pushed your shorts down your legs, followed by the red thong your wore underneath. He tossed the thong onto his bedside table, instead of the floor with the rest of the clothes.

You raised an eyebrow at him, about to make some teasing remark, when he dragged his cockhead through your messy slit, and all thoughts tumbled right out of your brain, dripping from between your legs.

“For later, yeah?” He said, smirking when your eyes rolled back when he tapped your clit with the head. “So next time I see that fucker, I can show him exactly what he lost.”

“George—” you started to chastise him for being cruel when he notched at your entrance, sinking halfway into your willing pussy, and you both cried out. The fullness, the stretch, was mind-melting. Better than anything you'd felt in your life.

George braced his hand beside your head, sagging forward as he hissed a curse under his breath. “Fucking shit, love,” he panted, his muscles locked up so tight he was practically vibrating. “M'done for if you keep squeezin’ me like that.”

You moaned, lifting your hips to take him a little deeper, needing more even though you felt like he was ripping you apart at the seams. “Please, Georgie,” you whimpered, clawing at his skin. “Want all of you.”

“I know, honey. I know. Just give me a second.” He leaned further down, peppering kisses across your cheeks and jaw. “Don't wanna hurt you, gotta relax f’me.”

You took a few breaths, trying to get your muscles to relax as his lips moved over your fevered skin. You felt him slide a bit deeper, the stretch not quite as intense.

“Good girl, that's it. Just a little further,” he praised, his hand gripping the flesh of your hip as he started rocking into you, slow, rolling thrusts that got incrementally longer each time, until his pelvis met yours and you were a moaning mess, writhing beneath him, desperate for more.

George straightened, his hand on the bed shifting to your shoulder, and he snapped his hips forward, forcing a cry from your lips as pleasure struck you like lightning. He set a rough pace, fucking you deep and hard, his grip on your body keeping you locked in place.

You were lost in it, helpless to the pitch and roll of his ocean, completely adrift in the pleasure he was pulling from your body. You tried to fuck back against him, but your body refused to cooperate, dumb and boneless and cockdrunk.

“So fucking pretty like this. Tell me how pretty you are, baby,” he said, his hand leaving your hip to rub tight circles over your clit.

“Mmph—fuck, so pretty,” you managed, voice throttled with lust and desperation.

“Yeah, you are.” He grinned. “My pretty girl takin’ this cock so well. He fuck you like this? Have you a drooling mess for him?”

You shook your head, nails biting into his thighs as your release prowled closer, coiling tight in your belly. “No, never,” you keened, when ratcheted up the pace sensing your looming orgasm.

“That's right, all mine. Who does this pussy belong to? Who has your heart?”

“You, you! Fuck, George, I’m—”

“Go on, love. Come for me, I'm right there with you. Come on.” His thrusts grew rougher and sloppier as his own release approached, and with a final, punishing snap of his hips, you both went flying over the edge and into white hot bliss.

You screamed and he caught the sound with a kiss, fucked you through it as your pussy clamped around him. Wringing every bit of pleasure from you both until he sagged forward, his head falling into the crook of your neck as you both gasped for breath.

He kissed along the damp column of your throat, making his way to your lips, his hands rubbing soothing circles on your trembling thighs. “Did so good,” he murmured between lazy pecks. “I'm proud of you.”

You giggled, feeling almost giddy to have George in your arms, kissing you and praising you so sweetly. “That was amazing,” you breathed, and he smiled, giving one last thrust before withdrawing and using magic to clean you both up.

“You were amazing,” he corrected. “Like I said, you're easy to love.”

Butterflies rioted in your stomach. “So are you.”

He leaned down and pressed a kiss to your forehead before handing you your hoodie and shorts. You both got semi-dressed and snuggled into his bed, his bare chest under your ear, heart thumping steadily.

You grabbed the gift bag and took out the bracelet. “Will you put it on me?”

“Of course,” he beamed, carefully taking the the jewelry and clasping it around your wrist, kissing the tender skin of your pulse before releasing you. “Looks perfect on you,” he said, looking down at your smiling face as you turned your wrist this way and that.

“I love it, Georgie. Thank you.” You snuggled closer into his side.

You rolled your eyes and placed a chocolate truffle on your tongue, letting the deliciousness fill your mouth.

Bang! There was a fumbling outside of the door and George quickly yanked the curtain shut, just before what sounded like several people came tumbling into the room.

“Get the fuck off of me, Weasley—” Jack.

“Absolutely not, you're going to apologize,” Fred replied, his voice a little too chipper for the current situation.

“I don’t have to explain myself to you, I—your girl?” Jack hissed. “She's mine.”

George chuckled. “Love, would you like to come out here and set the record straight?”

“What?” Jack barked. “She's not here—”

You slipped out of bed and tried to right yourself before stepping out of the curtain and into the room. Fred and Lee had Jack by arms, dressed only in his boxers. Harry and Ron stood off to the side, watching everything unfold with mild amusement.

George was leaning against the bed frame, lollipop in his cheek, a triumphant smirk on his face.

“We're done, Jack,” you said, getting it over with. But strangely, you didn't feel any of the guilt from before. And you shouldn't. Jack was a prick, and didn't deserve your tears or empathy.

“I miss one date and you shack up with fucking Weasley?” Jack spit, and George's eyes darkened. “Fucking whore—”

Fred and Lee shook him roughly, yelling at him to watch his mouth, and you recoiled a bit. George seemed to stay surprisingly calm, until you saw him reach for his Beater bat beside the bed.

“George, wait—”

George jabbed the tip of the bat into Jack's sternum, and the boy went pale. “If I hear you running your fucking mouth about her again, I will smash your jaw to splinters. Clear?”

Your heart lost its rhythm. You'd never seen George like this, and you loved it. Loved being his.

Jack bobbed his head yes, trembling in Fred and Lee's hold.

Lee snickered. “Prick looks like he might piss himself.”

“Now get the fuck out,” George ordered.

“Wait, one more thing,” you said, and the boys all turned their attention to you. You sauntered up to Jack, and you saw a flicker of hope in his eyes.

Fucking idiot.

You thrust your knee up, nailing him right in the bollocks, and he howled so loud the other boys dropped him into a heap on the floor.

“Fuck you,” you spit, turning on your heel and stepping into George's open arms.

“He deserved it,” you mumbled between kisses, giggling when George lifted you into the air, your legs wrapping around his waist.

“And now it's time you get what you deserve,” he smirked, laying you back down on the mattress and shifting down between your legs. “And I get my reward for absolutely crushing Valentine's Day.”

You burst out laughing, the sound shifting to moan as he licked a stripe through your slit. “You're right, best Valentine's Day ever.”

#george weasley #george weasley x reader #george weasley smut #george weasley x you #100000⁰00⁰00000/10 stars #i have to go to bed and hopefully dream about George #Youtube

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brainrotbee · 3 days ago

Text

Payneland Promptfest Day 6: Star-crossed

Edwin took a deep breath of the night air. He knew that oxygen would have no effects on his ghostly body but he still felt slightly calmer. He liked seeing the night sky too, especially from the roof of the office where the stars seemed close enough to touch. Normally the London smog would hide them, but the temperature was cold enough to make them visible.

"Up yours," he heard an angry voice yell. He turned and saw Charles climbing out of the window, holding up his middle finger. The person inside began to respond but he slammed the window shut before they could finish.He then crossed the roof and sat down next to Edwin with a huff.

"Why didn't you phase through the wall?" Edwin asked idly.

"Too angry," Charles spat. His jaw was clenched so tightly that if he were alive, Edwin would worry for his teeth. "I hate that second-rate Charles."

"I see."

Their alternate selves were creating quite the stir within the agency. Edwin didn't mind them very much--talking to the other Edwin could be quite pleasant--but Charles did not agree. He seemed to hate nothing more than his counterpart and the two were constantly bickering.

"My face doesn't look that punchable right?" Charles asked, flicking a pebble off the roof moodily.

"I wouldn't know. Punching faces is more your area."

This managed to make Charles smile. "He so bloody annoying," he continued. "Always acting stupidly happy. Always making snide comments." He shook his head. "He just got mad at me because he found out we killed Esther."

"Esther might not be evil in their universe," Edwin reminded him.

"Still, drives me mental." Charles sighed and leaned back on his hands. "I don't know how you to get along."

Edwins shrugged. "Shared experiences," he replied. Charles winced. "Still, it is odd to have them around." Edwin looked out at the city again. They were supposed to meet with a sorcerer at Oxford in the morning because they'd received a tip that he had knowledge of the multiverse. "I cannot wait to have the office to ourselves again."

Charles hummed in agreement and rested his head on Edwin's shoulder. "I agree. It'll be nice to kiss you again without having to worry about that Catholic nutter freak out on us."

Edwin tried to hide his laugh. It didn't feel right making fun of his counterpart when he was a perfect version of Edwin: strong, devout, untouched by Hell. "I think he would be too busy trying to break up the fight between you and the other Charles to care much."

"You're probably right." Charles looked behind them at the office windows. The other Charles was sitting on the edge of their desk--much like the regular Charles but with far straighter posture--and the other Edwin appeared to be speaking to him. They talked for a bit longer until the other Edwin poked his Charles teasingly in the chest with his croquet mallet. His Charles laughed and the other Edwin's normally serious face broke into a smile. "I don't know," regular Charles said. "They look like they're in love too."

"I'm inclined to agree with you there," Edwin replied. He secretly celebrated when Charles leaned on him again.

"Well, at least we know we're not star-crossed."

"Hmm?"

Charles shrugged. "If us happens in more than one universe, it has to be right, doesn't it?"

Edwin hadn't thought about it like that before. He looked back at the two boys, so far away from their home, and was suddenly grateful for their presence.

Shoutout to @technically-human for creating the reverse verse AU. You're my idol.

#payneland promptfest #dbda #dead boy detectives #dbda fanfic #reverse verse

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navybrat817 · 2 days ago

Note

Please for ficlet friday V-day edition...Nick Fowler and

“I don’t care who they are, I never want to see you talking to them again!”

I decided to make a small follow up to All Nighter, lovely! Hope you enjoy!

Micromanager

Pairing: Soft!Dark Nick Fowler x Female Reader

Summary: Nick doesn't like you talking to another man.

Word Count: Over 720

Warnings: Sexual harassment, possessive behavior, jealousy, tension, noncon kissing and implied noncon, Nick Fowler (he's a warning, okay?)

A/N: Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @saradika-graphics . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

“Is there anything else I can get for you, Mr. Barnes?” you asked, setting his water and a manila folder on the spare desk.

“Please, call me Bucky,” he said, scooting his chair in so he could look over the file. “And this is fine, thank you.”

Bucky Barnes worked for SHIELD instead of the CIA. The organizations worked together from time to time, and it usually wasn't by choice. Too much ego, too many secrets each wanted to keep from the other. It probably explained why Nick had been in a mood before Bucky showed up and you couldn't imagine that it would improve much once he left.

Good or bad mood, you were going to be on the receiving end of whatever it is he was feeling.

“Well, let me know if you do, Bucky,” you smiled.

“I will,” he gently smiled back, his gaze lingering as you went back to your desk.

The soldier was extremely handsome, his blue eyes kinder than your boss’s. He was bigger than your boss, too. Stronger. He seemed like a decent man overall and you wanted to ask his help, but you didn't. You couldn't.

What would you say if you did? That the Director of the CIA became fixated with you and was harassing you? Forcing you to continue to work for him because he decided you were his?

Your heart sank when you heard your name behind you. Turning, you saw Nick standing in the doorway and expected to meet his gaze since he called for you. Your boss, however, glared at Bucky. He looked like he was two seconds from putting a bullet in his head.

“Yes, Mr. Fowler?” you asked to get his attention, something you didn't want, but it was better than him staring daggers at Bucky.

He blinked and slowly looked your way. “Can I please see you in my office?” he asked, a pit forming in your stomach when you got to your feet. “Barnes, you can continue looking over that file down the hall. Room 3.”

Bucky looked up with a frown. “I don't mind looking-”

“That wasn't a suggestion. That was an order,” he cut him off, a dark smile on his face. “You know all about following orders, right?”

Bucky’s nostrils flared when he shut the folder and stood, but he gave you a soft smile. “When your asshole of a boss is done talking to you, could you please bring me another water to Room 3? I’d appreciate it.”

Your mouth fell open and you merely looked between the men as they narrowed their eyes at each other. Not many were bold enough to call Nick an asshole to his face. There was history there that went beyond organization rivalry, and the longer they stared, the more uncomfortable you felt.

The staring contest finally ended when Bucky gave you one last smile and took his leave, but you felt like you couldn't breathe.

Nick gripped your arm once you were alone, pulled you into his office and shut the door. Your heart thundered in your chest when he locked it. “You were being very friendly with Barnes, weren't you?”

“I was treating him like every other guest,” you said evenly, wincing when he pulled you closer.

“Sir,” Nick said through his teeth.

“Sir,” you whispered, more frightened than you felt since he first made his intentions clear. “Please, let me go.”

“Why? So you can run to him?” he asked, backing you against the door and caging you in. Did he sense that you thought about asking him for help? “You’re mine. Not his.”

You didn't want to belong to Nick. “I know. He works for SHIELD and I was just-”

“I don't care who he is. I never want to see you talking to him again!”

You closed your eyes when his breath fanned your lips. Nick had an air of cockiness around him, but you had never seen his jealous side. It frightened you.

“Don’t be scared, sweetheart,” he whispered, some of his anger dissipating before he kissed you. A mark of ownership. “Just stay the fuck away from Bucky Barnes.”

“Yes, sir,” you whispered, shivers wracking your body when he kissed you again.

Because you were going to feel every ounce of Nick’s jealousy before the day was through.

Love and thanks for participating! ❤️

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maretinelli · 3 days ago

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MY EMERGENCY CONTACT

Ollie Bearman X fem!reader

Summary: When Ollie is his girlfriend's emergency contact, but it seems like he's the one who needs an emergency contact.

Words: 4.0K+

Warnings: Funny, awkward couple (Ollie), mentions of lizards hahaha mention of explicit kissing, mention of Y/n's siblings, and injury. But the overall context is funny

Author: English is not my first language, so apologies for any spelling, grammar and slang mistakes that may be in the story. Based on that Tik Tok trend "my emergency contact" and the person appears doing the silliest thing in the world hahaha So I put some together and made several situations for the story.

MASTERLIST

The snow fell softly around them, creating a perfect backdrop for the disastrous adventure they were about to have. Ollie and Y/n walked hand in hand up the mountain, wearing thick winter clothes, goggles, and gloves to protect themselves from the cold. In their hands, they held their ski equipment, even though they had no idea how to actually use it.

"I don't see the need for any classes for this." Ollie said, with a tone of exaggerated confidence. "Just slide it down and you're done!"

Y/n let out an amused laugh, squeezing his hand. "Oh, sure, because it's that simple. I can already see you going down this mountain like a runaway doll."

"Exactly!" He smiled, clearly not getting the irony.

When they reached the top, Y/n headed towards the smaller track, but when she noticed that Ollie had stopped on the main one, she turned to him.

"Ollie, come on!" She called, adjusting her glasses.

"But this one looks more exciting!" He pointed to the larger track.

"Yeah, exciting for the audience who's going to see you go down that thing face first into the snow." She laughed a little. "Let's start on the smallest one, because in case you forgot, we don't know how to ski."

Ollie sighed, but relented, following behind her. "Okay, okay... But if I find out I'm a natural and wasted my time here, it's your fault!"

The smaller slope had a gentle slope and several children skiing with the help of their parents. Ollie watched the scene and smiled.

"Cool, let's learn to ski with five-year-olds." He joked.

"Yes, because at least they are humble enough to accept help." Y/n laughed, placing the equipment on the floor and starting to put it on.

Ollie did the same, trying to look confident but clearly still not understanding how it all worked. They were talking excitedly about the 'technique' they would use, but as soon as he put the skis on his feet, he began to slide slightly backwards.

"Hey, hey, hey!" Ollie exclaimed, waving his arms as if he were trying to fly.

Y/n caught his coat before he fell, laughing. "Relax, pilot, we're not in a race."

He rolled his eyes, but laughed along. With her help, he managed to balance himself and took the first step. It lasted two seconds. Enough to fall on your ass in the snow. Y/n, who almost lost her balance because of this, laughed out loud.

"So... skiing is just gliding, right?"

Still sitting in the snow, Ollie sighed.

"I think my theory was flawed." He stood up as if nothing had happened, trying to regain his dignity. "You have to bend your knees a little and lean forward."

"And where did you learn that?" Y/n arched an eyebrow.

"Instinct, love."

She laughed. "The same instinct that made you fall over like a rag doll?"

Ollie rolled his eyes, but smiled. "Trust me, I'll take care of you. Plus, I'm your emergency contact for anything."

"Wow, now I realize the real danger of this trip." Y/n laughed and raised her eyebrows below her glasses.

After a few tries, Y/n managed to move slowly across the track, reaching the other side. Ollie, determined to imitate her, pushed himself forward. At first, it worked. But soon he began to pick up too much speed.

"Y/n! How do you brake?!" He yelled.

"I don't know! You're the one who said you knew how to ski!"

Desperately, Ollie tried to throw himself to the ground to stop, but ended up sliding even faster. Out of control, he crashed directly into a snowman at the end of the track. When the snow settled, he was buried up to his neck, only his face sticking out, looking at Y/n with a defeated smile.

Y/n put her hands on her knees, laughing so hard she could barely breathe. Little by little, she approached him to help.

"Are you okay? Or did your brain freeze along with all that snow?"

Ollie spat out some snow and smiled. "It's just my ego that's hurt."

Before Y/n could respond, a child came down the ski slope and stopped next to them, looking at Ollie curiously.

"The guy fell like a penguin!"

Y/n laughed even more, looking at the child. "Yeah, and that penguin is my emergency contact!"

Ollie laughed along, finally being pulled out of the snowdrift by his girlfriend. He looked at the destroyed snowman behind him and sighed.

"Okay, maybe I need some lessons."

••••••••••••••••••••••

The day had not been the best for Y/n at work, and the cherry on the cake was seeing the car start to lose power until it stopped completely. With a frustrated sigh, she looked at the dashboard and saw the reason: Out of gas.

"Oh, wonderful..." He mumbled, rolling his eyes as he pulled the car over to the side of the road. Mentally cursing himself for not having seen this before.

She turned on the car's alarm and grabbed her cell phone from her purse and, without thinking twice, called Ollie. He answered quickly.

"Hey love."

"Hey, Ollie... so, I need a rescue."

"What kind of rescue? Because if it's something like an action movie, I don't think I'm qualified."

"My car ran out of gas." She sighed. "I'm on the shoulder of the main road, near the harbor."

"Are you kidding?" On the other end of the line, Ollie laughed.

"I'm not in the mood for jokes, Oliver." She said a little harshly, making her boyfriend raise his eyebrows on the other end of the line, realizing that she had a bad day at work just by the tone of her voice.

"Okay, okay. Apologies! I'm leaving the apartment now. Don't move, peasant in distress, your gentleman is on his way!"

Y/n rolled her eyes but laughed a little before hanging up.

It was cold in the city, and after making sure the car's hazard lights were still on, he went outside, crossing his arms and blowing on his hands to warm himself. While he waited, he tried calling the tow truck and stayed on the phone until he received an estimated arrival time.

Huddling in her own coat, she felt the tiredness of the day weighing her down. All he wanted was to be in Ollie's apartment, in the warmth and comfort of a place that, in some ways, already felt like home.

Minutes later, he saw a familiar car turn the corner and stop right behind his. Ollie rolled down the vehicle's window with an amused smile.

"Here's your private ride."

Y/n quickly got into his car and let out a sigh of relief as she felt the warmth of the heater. Ollie leaned over and gave her a quick kiss in greeting.

"Thank you for coming."

"Always, my love!" He smiled. "And now, shall we wait for the tow truck for your car?"

"Yes, the tow truck is on its way, just wait."

They stood there for a few minutes talking about their day, until the tow truck finally arrived. As soon as she saw the truck stop, Y/n got out of the car and went to talk to the driver, explaining the situation. Ollie, from the driver's seat, just watched his girlfriend deal with everything, a small smile on his face.

Shortly after, Y/n came back and got into Ollie's car.

"They'll take it to the nearest gas station, so just follow the tow truck." She put on her seatbelt, settled into the seat, and looked straight ahead. "You can go."

Ollie turned the key to start it and nothing happened. He frowned, tried again, but the car didn't respond.

"What's wrong?" Y/n asked, turning to him.

Ollie held back a laugh as he glanced at the dashboard. "Oh... so... small detail..." He scratched the back of his neck. "The car's out of gas too."

"You live 15 minutes away!" Y/n blinked a few times before processing the information.

"I know! But I forgot to fill up yesterday!"

She let out a disbelieving laugh and leaned forward, placing her hands on her face. Ollie, with a mischievous smile, just waited for the reaction.

"That's ridiculous." Y/n laughed.

"At least now I'm not alone in my humiliation." He laughed too.

"You came to save me and ended up needing saving too."

They looked at each other for a few seconds and, unable to contain themselves, burst out laughing. The situation was so absurd that it was impossible to even get angry.

"Okay, what now?" Y/n asked, trying to catch her breath.

"I think we need to call another tow truck... to get my car now."

"Great." She picked up her phone. "I'll put that on the list of stupid stories to tell our kids in the future."

"And I'm going to pretend it never happened."

••••••••••••••••••••••••

Y/n's day off started productively, with a good cleaning of the apartment while she listened to music. Singing along to the lively rhythm, she went to the kitchen, grabbed a chair to clean under the table and, when she lifted it, her heart almost jumped out of her mouth.

Two lizards were there, motionless.

The scream she let out could have been heard across town. Without thinking, she threw the cloth over the animals and climbed onto the other chair, holding the mop like a sword. With a shudder, she saw the lizards moving under the cloth and grabbed her cell phone from the table, quickly dialing Ollie's number.

"Hey love."

"Ollie, HELP!"

"What?! What happened?! Is everything okay?!"

"No, it's not okay! THERE ARE LIZARDS IN MY KITCHEN!"

On the other end of the line, silence. And then, a laugh. "Did you call me in despair about the lizards?"

"Ollie, I'M STUCK ON TOP OF A CHAIR! IF YOU DON'T COME HELP ME, I'M GONNA HAVE TO LIVE UP HERE!"

Still laughing, he sighed. "Okay, I'm going. Hang in there, you peasant in distress."

Ollie lived just a few streets away from her apartment, so it didn't take him ten minutes to arrive. As soon as he walked in, he started talking.

"Okay, where are the beasts?"

"Here in the kitchen!" Y/n spoke loudly, still on the chair.

When Ollie got there, the scene was so ridiculous that he had to hold back his laughter. Y/n was holding the squeegee with both hands, staring at the cloth as if it were a war.

"Look, you don't pay rent. So please leave because my boyfriend is here!" She said, as if the lizards could understand.

"Was that a warning or an attempt at negotiation?" Ollie laughed.

"I'm serious, Ollie. This isn't funny." She glared at him.

"No, no... of course not." He smiled, trying to hold back his laughter. "Where are they?"

"I only managed to trap them like this." Y/n pointed to the cloth.

Ollie walked over, slowly bending down to remove the cloth. Y/n flinched, turning her face away and squeezing her eyes shut.

"You're shaking!" He laughed.

"OBVIOUSLY I'm shaking, they're evil!"

Ollie slowly pulled the cloth away, but the moment he tried to grab one of them by the tail, they both ran towards him.

"Oh, no, no, no-!" He jumped back and walked over to the counter, noticing that the lizards seemed to be following him.

"GET IT! GET IT! GET IT!!" Y/n screamed from her chair.

"I'm trying!" Ollie dodged, lifting his feet. "These things are fast!"

"OF COURSE THEY ARE! THEY'RE STALKING YOU!"

Ollie picked up a pot lid that was on the counter and threw it towards the lizards, without success. But it made a loud noise.

"OLIVER, don't break my stuff!"

The lizards changed direction and went to the other corner. Ollie followed behind, trying to catch one of them, but then he felt something crawling up his foot.

"NO! NO, NO, NO!" He ran towards Y/n.

"OLIVER!! DON'T LET THEM GO UNDER THE REFRIGERATOR!! GET THEM!" She pushed her boyfriend a little, encouraging him to get closer to the lizards.

"I'M TRYING!" The pilot picked up the cloth again and tried to throw it over both of them at once.

"See?! They're evil! THEY'RE EVIL!"

Running after the animals, Ollie threw things on the floor trying to block their path, while Y/n shouted orders and cheered from the top of the chair.

"COME ON LOVE, GET THEM OUT OF HERE!!"

In the midst of the confusion, the lizards finally found the balcony door and climbed down the outside wall, leaving Y/n's apartment. Ollie stopped, taking a deep breath and throwing his head back.

"And they left." He walked back to Y/n, who was still shaking in her chair.

"Are you sure?" She asked suspiciously.

"Yes. But just in case, I suggest you enter the kitchen in armor next time." Ollie held out his hand to help her down.

Y/n rolled her eyes laughing, holding his hand. "Funny you should say that when you were running away from them too."

"I wasn't running away." Ollie stifled a laugh.

"YES, you were scared!" Y/n pointed at him. "I almost had to get off my chair to help you!"

"It wasn't fear, it was a survival strategy." He rolled his eyes, placing his hands on her waist.

"Oh, sure." Y/n laughed. "And here I thought you were my emergency contact... turns out, it looks like I'm yours."

The two looked at each other and started laughing.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Y/n's weekend at Ollie's apartment was going perfectly until it was time to choose a movie to watch that night.

"Are you sure about that?" Ollie asked, looking at the TV screen as Y/n selected a horror thriller movie. "Wouldn't you prefer a romantic comedy? Something... less traumatizing?"

"No, I want to watch this one. Everyone is saying great things about it!"

"But you hate horror movies."

"Yeah, but I'm curious to see this one!" She shrugged.

"Curious about not sleeping?"

She laughed and ignored the comment, pressing play.

The two were snuggled up on the couch, under the blanket, with a bucket of popcorn between them. Ollie's arm was behind Y/n's back, and she leaned against him, grabbing a popcorn or two as the movie started.

The atmosphere of the movie was dark, and the soundtrack heightened the tension. Suddenly, in the middle of a scene of pure suspense, Y/n stuck her hand into the popcorn bucket, making a loud noise.

"OH MY GOD!" Ollie jumped up from the couch.

"Ollie?! What's wrong?!" Y/n widened her eyes, startled by his reaction.

"What was that noise?" The pilot looked at his girlfriend with his heart racing.

She blinked a few times and pointed to the bucket. "I just got some popcorn..."

Ollie sighed, placing his hand on his chest. "Do you want to kill me before the monster in the movie can?"

"Calm down, brave one." Y/n laughed, pulling him into a hug.

He snorted and turned his eyes back to the TV, but inside, he already wanted to give up on that movie and use his phone to distract himself. However, he had promised her that he would watch until the end whatever movie Y/n chose.

As the movie progressed, the scares only got worse. Ollie would jump suddenly, scaring Y/n, which made him even more scared. It was a never-ending cycle of terror.

Until, in a tense moment, Y/n accidentally moved her foot and touched Ollie's leg.

"HELP!" He jumped on the couch, nearly knocking over the popcorn bucket. "SOMETHING TOUCHED ME!"

"WHAT WAS IT?" Y/n's eyes widened and she pulled her legs towards her. "IT WAS A LIZARD?! OLIVER! IT WAS A LIZARD?"

Ollie stared around the room, terrified. But then he looked at Y/n's legs and realized something. "Wait... it was your own foot, love..."

"Ah...!" She blinked, realizing what had happened.

At the end of the film, both were scared and tense. It was then that a loud thunderclap echoed outside, followed by a flash of lightning that illuminated the curtains in the living room of the pilot's apartment.

"AAAAH!" The two screamed together, hugging each other on the couch. With Yin hiding her face in her boyfriend's neck.

Y/n blinked a few times and then realized it was just the thunder. He started laughing out loud, pulling back a little to look at Ollie.

"You're supposed to protect me, not be scared of the same silly things I am!"

Ollie's eyes widened. "That movie traumatized me, Y/n! I deserve to be protected too!"

Y/n laughed even harder and laid her head on his chest, muffling her laughter in Ollie's hoodie. "I love you, even if you're a wimp."

He smiled, kissing her hair and wrapping her in a tight hug. "And I love you, even though you put me in these absurd situations."

Another bolt of lightning lit up the room and the two shuddered together. Y/n suddenly stood up, holding Ollie's hand with a mischievous look.

"Run to the room, they've come to get us!" She pulled him down the hallway.

"Y/N, STOP JOKING!! THIS IS SERIOUS!"

She laughed out loud, while he tried to keep up, torn between fear and the urge to laugh.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••

The sky was blue, with few clouds and a cool breeze, making it the perfect weather for playing tennis. As they did at least twice a month, Yin and his brothers would meet on the court for a friendly game.

Taylor, the oldest of them, walked next to Y/n, talking about the week, while Bailey was on the phone with Ethan, the brother two years older than the youngest Y/n.

"So you really can't come?" Bailey asked, sighing. "Okay, okay. See you later." He hung up the call and looked at his sisters. "Ethan's stuck in the office and doesn't know what time he gets out."

"Oh, crap!" Taylor lamented. "We won't be able to play then, without him we'll be left with an odd number."

Y/n suddenly lifted her head, an idea popping into her mind. "What if I call Ollie?" She looked at her brothers. "He's finishing a workout and is nearby, if you want, I'll call him!"

"Brother-in-law playing with us? I like that idea." Bailey smiled.

"That's a great solution! Call him." Taylor smiled too.

"Okay, you guys go pick a court then. I'll call him." Y/n said, handing the rackets to Bailey before walking away a little to call her boyfriend.

Ollie answered quickly. "Hi, my love."

Y/n smiled automatically, even though she knew he couldn't see it. "Hi, honey. Want to be my emergency?"

"What exactly does that mean?" He laughed on the other end of the line.

"My brother Ethan couldn't make it to our tennis game, and we need another player. Do you want to join?"

She heard a smile in his voice as he replied, "Does that mean I can spend more time with you? Then of course! Send me the address, I'm close by."

"Thank you, my love. See you soon."

After hanging up, she sent the location and returned to where the brothers were, already warming up.

Minutes later, Ollie arrived on the court with a smile on his face, his hair still a little messy from training and wearing gym clothes. As soon as he saw Y/n, he opened his arms.

Y/n smiled silly and walked towards him, throwing herself into the hug and feeling the familiar scent of her boyfriend. He held her face affectionately before placing his lips on hers, starting a slow and passionate kiss. His sweet taste, mixed with the light sweat from training, made the moment even more captivating. He deepened the kiss for a moment, his hands squeezing her waist before pulling away only to brush his lips against hers once more.

"Hey, hey, calm down!" Bailey interrupted, making a disgusted sound. "Enough of this mussing around with my sister!"

Bailey was the second oldest of the brothers, but he could still be quite childish when it came to teasing his brothers or trying to embarrass his younger brother-in-law. And it always worked.

Y/n rolled her eyes, stepping away from Ollie as he laughed. Then the pilot greeted Taylor with a gentle hug and Bailey with a handshake.

"The court is ready, do you want to start?" Taylor asked excitedly.

"Let's go!" Y/n agreed.

The pairings were set: Y/n and Ollie against Taylor and Bailey. While Y/n's brothers warmed up on their side of the court, Ollie approached his girlfriend and whispered.

"I will defeat your brothers."

"You're very confident..." Y/n laughed. "Just like that time we went skiing and you ran into a snowman."

"He was in my way!" Ollie grimaced and rolled his eyes.

"It was a snowman!! He was standing still."

"Details."

She laughed and shook her head and rotated her arm to quickly warm herself up.

The game began and it soon became clear that Ollie and Y/n made an excellent pair in that sport. They were ahead on the scoreboard, and with each point, they celebrated by kissing and exchanging funny comments.

"See? We are unbeatable." Ollie said after scoring a point.

"Or we're just lucky." Y/n smiled and pulled him by the collar of his shirt, giving him a little kiss.

"You're my luck." He replied, making Y/n's sister roll her eyes in amusement from across the court.

"Can you guys focus on the game instead of making out?" Bailey mumbled and the couple's laughter was synchronized.

But in the next moment, Ollie hit a ball that Taylor threw and which eventually hit the net and came back full on the Haas driver's face.

"AH!" He leaned forward a little, bringing both hands to his nose and the racket falling.

Y/n's brothers widened their eyes from across the court.

"Oliver?" Bailey asks worried about his brother-in-law.

"Ollie?! Is everything okay? What happened?" Y/n ran to her boyfriend, worried.

He nodded, but when he took his hands off his face, Y/n saw blood running from his nose and her eyes widened.

"Ow, Ollie... he's bleeding!"

"It hurts a little, but it's nothing serious." He grimaced.

Y/n analyzed quickly, carefully touching her boyfriend's nose and sighed in relief. "It doesn't look broken, but the blow was hard. Let's sit down for a bit to let the blood stop."

They walked to the bench next to the court, where Ollie sat. Y/n took her coat and handed it to him to press against his nose.

"I don't want to stain your coat." He protested.

"I don't care, I just want you to be okay." Y/n smiles lovingly.

Bailey then volunteered to go get some paper and went after it, while Taylor handed her younger sister a bottle of water.

"Lean forward a little, love. You need to wash that blood off." Y/n asked, opening the bottle and pouring some water on his nose, cleaning the blood with care and attention. "Do you want to go to the hospital?" She asked.

"No, it's not broken, is it? It's just sore." He replied, lightly touching his nose.

Y/n smiled, relieved, and placed a hand on his back, caressing him. Soon, Bailey came back with the papers and handed them to her, who quickly placed them on her boyfriend's nose.

"I'd kiss you right now if you weren't bleeding." Ollie grabbed it and pressed it against his nose.

"I hope so, but only because you're an adorable tennis player." Y/n chuckles softly, still with one hand on her boyfriend's back.

Y/n's brothers laughed.

"Well, game over then." Taylor decreed.

"But me and Y/n won! That's only fair after that accident." Ollie joked, and they laughed.

As Taylor and Bailey walked away to pick up their rackets that were lying on the court, Ollie looked at Yin and smiled.

"I came to be your emergency to continue the game, but apparently I needed an emergency because of my nose."

Y/n laughed and shook her head. "Yeah, I guess our emergencies never go as planned."

"Good thing my favorite emergency room always takes care of me." He laced his fingers through hers, a piece of paper still pressed to his nose.

"Always. Even if you keep getting yourself into disasters like this." Y/n smiled and leaned in to kiss his cheek.

#fanfiction #y/n #romance #imagines #one shot #formula 1 #formula one #ollie bearman x female reader #ollie bearman x y/n #ollie bearman x you #ollie bearman x reader #ollie bearman #imagines ollie bearman #fem reader #lovers

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stronginawayjbb · 2 days ago

Text

Hold My Hand - J.B.

hi hello I have another entry for @elixirfromthestars 's cinema! this fic IS CA: BNW spoiler free, and I would appreciate for there to be no spoilers since I haven't gotten a chance to see it yet! thank you so much <3

rating: 18+

pairing: Congressman!Bucky x f!reader

tags/warnings: hurt/comfort, angst. mentions of blood/violence/hospitals, happy ending because I can't write sad shit

prompts: pretzel, Hold My Hand by Lady Gaga

word count: 3.8k (not sorry)

Pull me close, wrap me in your aching arms. I see that you're hurtin', why'd you take so long to tell me you need me? I see that you're bleeding, you don't need to show me again. But if you decide to, I'll ride in this life with you. I won't let go 'til the end.

When you got the news that there was a HYDRA attack happening in the Capitol building, you didn’t think. You took off from the Manuscript Reading Room in the Library of Congress, only one thing on your mind - or one person, rather.

You ran as fast as your heels would carry you, getting across the street and to the steps of the building before you were stopped by security. You flashed both your federal ID and Avengers clearance card, which granted you access. You weren’t necessarily an Avenger, but you did work on their research and development team. And you were dating one. In order for you to stay quiet, you took your heels off, not wanting to alert anyone of your presence. Dating a super soldier, he’d taught you enough to keep your wits about you and defend yourself if he couldn’t be there to protect you. You tiptoed around, making your way to a stairwell so you could get to Bucky’s office. You smelled smoke as you got closer, and when you opened the door to the second floor, it was hazy. You knew you should turn back, but something in you said Bucky needed you.

So you kept going. The destruction got worse as you got closer to his office, and when you reached it, the door had been blown off. You didn’t see him immediately, so you assessed for any threat of danger, and seeing no one around, you entered carefully.

“Bucky?” you called out carefully. You heard a groan behind his desk, so you rushed over. You knelt down, your knees landing in a liquid - one you quickly realized was blood. His blood. “Bucky,” you gasped, trying to find the source of his bleeding. Even with his healing abilities, he was still losing too much too quickly. “What happened? Where are you hurt? Talk to me, baby,” you said with urgency, gently pulling him out from under his desk. He yelped in pain, and you felt terrible, but you had to help. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out, his throat already dry and eyes looking glassy.

Once he was out from under his desk, you found the source of his injury: a deep stab wound in his femoral artery. Luckily, there was enough space for you to be able to put a tourniquet on him. You went to work quickly, taking his belt out of his pants and tightening it down to try and stop the bleeding. Unbuttoning his collared shirt, you tore a part of his t-shirt he wore underneath to pack in the wound. Your hands were shaking, eyes clouded with tears as you did your best to stuff strips into the gash.

Weakly, he grabs your bloody hand, trying to stop your shaking. “Cupcake,” he breathes out. You look at him, lacing your fingers together. “I’m here, baby,” you promise him, voice cracking with your tears. He shakes his head, a small smile on his tired face. “I love you,” he says, and it looks like it takes all his strength. “I’m always going to love you.” “No,” you sob, “No, stop. Stop talking like that. You’re going to be fine.”

You didn’t believe the words coming out of your mouth, but you didn’t need to. You needed him to believe them. Because he had to be. This couldn’t be the way he goes out. You’d been with Bucky for two years, and loved him more than anything in the world. The thought of losing him felt like your soul was being ripped out of your chest. You leaned down, taking your free hand and pushing some of his hair out of his face. It smeared a bit of blood across his forehead, but you’d clean it up later. You pressed a kiss to his cheek, cradling his face in your hand. “Keep your eyes open, baby. Stay awake for me, okay? Help is coming. You’re gonna be fine,” you assured, whispering sweet nothings to him like they were going to keep him alive. You glanced down at his leg, and it seemed as though the bleeding was slowing down, but you didn’t know when help was going to arrive.

Bucky’s breathing was shallow, every breath labored, but he was doing it. After another moment, Joaquin comes in, looking around for Bucky. You perk your head up from behind the desk, waving him over. “Over here,” you alert him, tears in your eyes. “Is he hurt?” Joaquin asks, eyebrows furrowed as he assesses Bucky. You nod. “Stab wound in his thigh. I put a tourniquet on it and packed it, just like he showed me,” you told him. Bucky was struggling to stay awake, but he was trying - fighting.

Joaquin gives you a small smile despite the situation. “You probably saved his life,” he tells you, and while you know he’s right, Bucky is barely clinging to life. “Fix him,” you sob, letting Joaquin take over. He does, telling someone on his comms that they need a stretcher and medical assistance. The next few minutes were the longest of your life, trying to keep Bucky awake before help came. When it did, they had all kinds of medicines at the ready, pushing you out of the way to get Bucky stable. You found yourself standing next to Joaquin, and with one look at you, he wrapped his arms around your shoulders and let you sob into his chest. Bucky’s blood was dry on your hands, evidence that you did everything you could to save him, and you still weren’t sure it was enough. “We’re gonna follow him to the hospital, okay?” Joaquin tells you, feeling you silently nod against him. He leads you out of the office, glancing you over. “Hey, where’s your shoes?” he asks softly, and you nod towards the desk. You’d dropped them next to you before tending to Bucky. He goes to quickly retrieve your heels, helping you into them before getting you downstairs and out of the building. You catch a glimpse of Sam, who has a grim look on his face, but nods, trying to offer you some silent reassurance. You quietly follow Joaquin to Happy’s waiting car, ready to take you to the hospital.

The car ride to MedStar Washington was silent. Happy didn’t try to engage in conversation, and you were grateful. Once at the hospital, he dropped you off at the emergency room doors, and told you to call him when you were ready to come home or if you needed anything. You nodded, giving him a grateful smile and a small “thank you” before walking into the building. Your pantyhose were still bloodstained at the knees, but you didn’t care. You went through the procedures of checking in as a visitor, brokenly asking where James Barnes was. “He’s in the trauma center, in room 4,” the receptionist tells you with a sad smile. You nod and begin making your way towards the trauma center, visitor sticker displayed on your grey blazer. You were doing research in the Library of Congress today, so you wore a grey skirt suit with a royal blue blouse, and you were laughing because your suit unintentionally matched Bucky’s today. You giggled and took selfies with him this morning, holding hands as he walked you to work. That felt like a lifetime ago.

Slowly, you trekked to his room, steeling yourself for whatever condition he was in. Once you made it to the trauma center, you stopped at the nurse’s station. “Hi,” you greeted, voice strained. “I’m (y/n) (y/l/n), James Barnes’ girlfriend and emergency contact. How’s he doing?” You knew he’d signed the forms to have medical information released to you, which they had on file, so they should be able to give you updates. The nurse pulls up his chart, careful to keep a poker face before looking up from his computer. “He’s getting a second pint of blood. After he’s stable, he’ll need to go in for surgery to repair the artery, but we were able to get the bleeding stopped for now. Whoever packed the wound and put the belt on him as a tourniquet saved his life,” he tells you. He sees the blood on you, and knows it was likely you who did it, so he’s trying to offer some reassurance. “Is he going to be okay?” you ask quietly.

The nurse gives you a faint smile as he nods. “He’s going to be fine.”

You take a deep breath and head to Bucky’s room. You step inside carefully, not wanting to disturb him. You check his vitals, and he’s holding steady. His blood pressure is a little low, but everything else looks good. You quietly pull up a chair on his left side and take his metal hand in yours. You feel a slight squeeze from him, and it makes you smile. His second blood transfusion was almost done, and you knew he’d probably be heading in for surgery soon. “Hey, cupcake,” he rasps out, opening his eyes to look at you. He looked so frail in a hospital gown, despite his bulkiness. You carefully reach out and tuck some of his chestnut hair behind his ear. You loved when his hair was long like this. “Hi, baby,” you greet, your emotions threatening to spill over again. He nuzzles into the palm of your hand, the scruff on his cheeks and chin rough against your skin. “They said you saved me,” he states, looking into your eyes. You shrug and shake your head, dismissing him.

“I had to. I couldn’t let you go just yet. I won’t let go till the end, and this couldn’t be how our story ended.” The words tumble out of your mouth as you try to envision a world without Bucky. That wasn’t a world you wanted to live in. The corner of his mouth quirks into his signature smirk, and that alone makes your heart flutter. You grip his hand just a little tighter. “What happened, love?” He rolls his eyes, obviously annoyed with the organization that’s been after him for 80 years. “HYDRA found out about our mission to double cross them, found out I was undercover in Congress to try and expose them once and for all. Tried to take me out with a pocket knife. Dumbasses.”

The fact that he was joking around and being sassy meant he was feeling a little better, which made her smile and chuckle a little. “Sorry the mission ended like this,” you apologize, looking at him with some sympathy. He shakes his head. “Not your fault, cupcake. I don’t know what tricks you pulled to get into the Capitol, but do not do that shit ever again, understand?” He looks at you, his voice slightly stern, and that makes you giggle.

“No way. I’m coming after you every time. And I’m glad I did,” you say, staring him down. His cheeks flush lightly. “You don’t need to save me. That’s my job.”

Your thumb strokes across his metal knuckles, reassuring him gently. “And you are my hero, Bucky. Always have been, always will be. But you don’t have to wait to tell me you need me. I can see when you’re bleeding, literally and figuratively.” He swallows hard at that, nodding. The one person he thought he could lean on was now stuck in the past, and while he had a few people he trusted in the present, namely Sam and Rhodey, he still got worried that he couldn’t always share his true emotions. With you, he knew he was safe, but he still had a deep seeded need to protect you. You were the one modern thing he loved. Your moment was interrupted by the trauma doctor and a cardiologist entering his room. You both looked up at the doctors, and you introduced yourself and shook their hands. They explained that since Bucky had been stable for the better part of an hour, they needed to get in and repair his artery before the temporary cauterization they put on him stopped working. It was enough to get him stable, but it wasn’t the permanent fix. They explained an operating room was open, so they were going to prep him for surgery. They said it shouldn’t take long, an hour or two at most. You soaked in the information, looking over at Bucky. He seemed a little nervous, and you knew why. You looked at the doctors. “Can you give us a minute before you take him, please?” you ask politely. They look at each other and the trauma doctor checks his watch. “We can give you two minutes, but we have to go after that. It is an emergency, and the cauterization won’t last,” he explains. You nod, understanding, grateful for the two minutes. They walk out, leaving you and Bucky alone. As soon as they’re out of the room, Bucky’s heart rate picks up. He looks at you with genuine fear in his eyes. “Listen to me, Bucky. It’s going to be okay. You’re gonna be fine, and you’re gonna wake up the same person you are now, okay? I won’t let them hurt you,” you swear to him, resolve and determination lacing your tone.

“You promise?” he asks, still worried, but trusting you. You nod, your eyes never leaving his. “I promise, lovebug.”

He takes a deep breath, not feeling great but knowing you’re telling the truth. “Gimme a kiss,” he requests, and you smile, happily obliging him. “I love you, cupcake,” he grins, squeezing your hand with his metal one. “I love you, sweet pea,” you tell him, meaning it with your whole chest. Just then, the doctors come back in, telling you and Bucky it was time for surgery. You stand up from the chair beside his bed, and let the nurses get his bed prepped to roll him out. Before he leaves, you promise him that you’ll be right here when he comes back, and with that, he and his team are leaving for surgery.

An hour later, the cardiologist comes in to his room to find you with a cup of coffee. You look up, your heart pounding in your chest. By the relaxed smile on her face, you were hopeful. “He did great. They’re closing him up now and once he wakes up from anesthesia, he’ll be brought back here. We’ll keep him overnight to monitor him, but he’ll be discharged tomorrow morning. The sofa in here turns into a bed, and you’re welcome to stay with him,” she explains, clearly pleased with the results of the surgery. “He needs one more pint of blood, and some more fluids, but with his advanced healing, he’ll be fine in a few days. He just needs to take it easy while he heals. He lost about half of his blood, which any normal human would have died from. He got really lucky. He’s lucky to have you, Ms. (y/l/n). He wouldn’t stop talking about you before we put him under.”

The weight of everything comes crashing down on you, and tears well up in your eyes as you thank her. Bucky was going to be okay, and you were so grateful. The cardiologist steps out of the room, and you sit back in your chair, waiting for Bucky to come back. In the meantime, you text Happy, asking him to bring you an overnight bag and to retrieve your purse from the cloak room of the reading room you were in before this all went down. Your phone stayed in the inner pocket of your suit jacket, but your wallet and purse was still with your things in the cloak room. He texts back, affirming he would bring you everything.

A half hour later, Bucky was back in the room, still dozing as the anesthesia wore off. While he was asleep, Happy dropped off your bag, so you went to the attached bathroom in his room to change. While you were in there, he woke up, calling out a gruff “Cupcake?”

Immediately, you stepped out, only half dressed. You had your yoga pants and a sports bra on, and when you came into his view, he grinned. “Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes…”

You rolled your eyes and came over to his side, lips brushing against his forehead. “How are you feeling, honey?” you ask, looking him over. He seemed to be doing okay. He had some color back in his face, not as pale as you saw him earlier. “Good. Sore. Better now that you’re here,” he answers, leaning back into his pillows. You adjust the one under his shoulders, leaning him back a little to make sure he was comfortable. “I’m gonna finish getting changed and I promise I’ll be right back, okay?” you tell him, kissing his forehead one more time before running back to the bathroom. You slipped on your t-shirt, an old AC/DC one, and quickly rejoined him at his bedside. You pulled up a chair again and dutifully enveloped his metal hand in both of yours. It held onto the slight chill of the operating room, so you did your best to warm it up. “They told me they’re keeping you overnight to monitor you, but I can stay, too. Happy brought me a bag. He brought you a change of clothes, too. We can go home in the morning,” you say softly. You see him nod, understanding why they want to keep him. “They said you lost half your blood…” you trail off, wondering if he knew.

You see his chest seize up for a split second, a sign that he knew and didn’t want to tell you. He sighs, and doesn’t dare look into your eyes. “I didn’t think I was gonna make it… When you came into my office, I--” he pauses for a moment, trying not to get choked up, “I thought my world was ending, and all I wanted was to be next to you.”

“Bucky,” you whisper, holding his hand tighter. “Did the doc tell you I wouldn’t shut up about you?” he asks, trying to lighten the mood a little. You nod. “She did.”

“Did she say what, exactly, I said?” he asks, eyebrow cocked in curiosity.

“No, lovebug, she didn’t,” you affirm. You looked at him with the same curiosity, wondering what the hell that was supposed to mean. “Why?” you ask.

He shrugs, his bottom lip poking out. “No reason, I just may have spilled my guts and was trying to figure out if she ruined anything.”

Now you were definitely confused. “Ruin what?” you pushed, trying to make sure everything was okay between the two of you. Noticing that you were starting to get upset, Bucky started rubbing his thumb in circles on the back of your hand.

“It’s all good, cupcake, I promise. I just have a… surprise planned soon, for our anniversary, and wanted to make sure she didn’t tell you, that’s all,” he explains, hoping it was enough to calm your nerves. It was. Relief crosses your face as you tuck some hair behind his ear again, just like you did earlier.

“Okay, baby. I trust you,” you assure, a soft smile on your face as you stroke his hair. That lulls him back to sleep, and you stay like that for an hour or so until a nurse comes in to start his next bag of fluids and blood transfusion. They’re giving him some preventative antibiotics, too, so he didn’t get an infection.

The nurse wakes him up to check his vitals and get his pain level, and while he tries to hide it, he reluctantly admits it’s a 6. So he gets some extra pain meds, and you help him order a late dinner, ordering a meal for yourself as well.

After dinner, he’s tired but restless. You make up the pull out bed with sheets his nurse provided, and an extra pillow. You had your pajamas on, a tank top and shorts set, and the sight made him feel like you two were back home. But to him, home was wherever you were, so he supposed that as long as you were here, he could handle it.

“Come get in bed with me,” he finally says, breaking the comfortable silence in the room. He scoots over a little, making room for you. You get in on his left side, not wanting to disturb his arm with two IVs in, or his injured thigh. You lay on your side, your arm draped over his soft middle. Since he’s been on an undercover mission and not training as hard, he’s gotten a little softer, and you adored it. Your hand splayed protectively over his stomach, and he covered yours with his flesh one.

Your exhaustion was just about ready to take over, and he could feel your body getting heavier against his as you relaxed. Your eyes fluttered shut, relishing in the feeling of laying next to the love of your life. Just as you were about to drift off, his warm lips brush against the top of your head. “I love you, cupcake,” he whispers, metal arm squeezing you tighter against him.

“I love you,” you whisper back, already half asleep. He finally lets you drift off, thanking his lucky stars for not only the blessing that is you, but for you saving him. Your third anniversary was in three weeks, and he had a four word question he couldn’t wait to ask you. Up until now, he was scared shitless about it, but now, as you lay in his arms, protecting him the best way you knew how, he realized that the butterflies in his stomach weren’t fear, but excitement. The two emotions had been conflated in his head for so long that he wasn’t sure he could name the difference. He can now.

Bucky smiles as he falls asleep, letting the pain medicine take over his aching body. The future was bright for the two of you since he survived today, and he knew he could do anything as long as you held his hand.

So cry tonight, but don’t you let go of my hand. You can cry every last tear. I won’t leave till I understand. Promise me, just hold my hand.

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #congressman!bucky #elixirscinema #beefy bucky #bucky x y/n #marvel fanfiction #marvel #submission #avengers #no BNW spoilers

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grimesve1l · 3 days ago

Text

First time for everything

Read previous part here

Summary: Rafe takes Y/n on her first date

Warnings: Swearing

It's been a few days since Rafe spent the night with Y/n but they've still talked. This morning Y/n had woken up to an apple pay notification and a text from Rafe telling her to get her nails done and be ready by seven. The message made her smile as she got out of bed and headed to the kitchen.

"What you smiling for?" Barry asked from the couch. "Nothing" Y/n said as she started to make breakfast. "Mhm." Barry replied not believing her. "That code for country club?" he adds. "Maybe." she says cracking an egg in the pan. "Y'all dating now or sum?" he asks as he scrolls on his phone. "No, but we do have a date later." Y/n replies.

This makes Barry turn and look at her. "Y'all have a date?" he says. "Yeah. Why are you so shocked?" Y/n asks as she continues cooking. "You two are making each other soft as hell. Back on the mainland you'd be playing five guys at the same time and none of them ever knew it." Barry says.

"And Rafe ain't all that different either he be playing all them kook girls. Now you talking bout y'all got a date. Barry says in disbelief. "I guess we've both had a change of heart. Y/n says shrugging while fixing her and Barry's plates. She puts the plates on the table in the living room and sits beside him.

They continue talking as they eat their breakfast. Once Y/n finishes she takes a shower and gets ready to get her nails done. "You know a good nail salon around here?" she asks Barry. "Why would I know that?" Barry says giving her a confused look. "I don't you live here don't you?" she responds sarcastically as she looks it up on her phone.

"Whatever I found one." she says heading for the door. "Bye B, don't miss me too much!" she says as she leaves. She makes her way to a nail salon that's not to far but still far enough to be way nicer than what she would've found near her. She walks up to the lady at the front desk and asks if she can do a walk in. The lady looks her up and done but agrees regardless.

Y/n doesn't miss the way people in the salon look at her but she couldn't care less. Rafe gave her money to spend and she was gonna spend it somewhere nice. She eventually gets sat down and the nail tech starts working on her nails. Y/n decides to go with simple long dark red nails.

"I love that color." A girl beside her says. "Oh thanks yours are cute too. Y/n responds. "I'm Sarah. Are you new here I haven't seen you around here before." Y/n thinks for a moment wondering why the girls name sounds familiar before responding "I'm Y/n and yeah I just recently moved here. I'm getting my nails done for a date tonight." "Ooo who is he maybe I know him. Sarah says.

"He's a friend of my cousins, they do business together." Y/n says. "Oh so he has money." Sarah replies jokingly. "I mean he is paying today." Y/n says with a smile. "Okay!" Sarah says as they both laugh. As the nail tech finishes Sarah's nail she tells Y/n to give her her phone so she can put in her instagram.

"That way you can tell me how your date goes." she says before leaving. Y/n finishes not long after and pays with the money Rafe sent. She makes her way back home and relaxes with Barry until it's time to start getting ready.

She's not sure where Rafe is taking her so she goes with a simple dress with lace and some black kitten heels. She just finished spraying her setting spray when Barry calls her from the living room. "I'm coming" she's says as she almost trips down the hall in her heels.

She sees Rafe standing by the door waiting for her. "Alright I want her back by midnight and if I find out you hurt her ima whoop your ass." Barry jokes as Y/n moves to stand beside Rafe. "Shut up Barry." she laughs. "I'm just fucking with you but i'm serious about that last part. You hurt her I'll fuck you up country club."

"Trust me man she's in good hands." Rafe says. Barry just nods as the the two head outside. "Bye Barry, love you!" Y/n says walking to the truck with Rafe where he opens the door for her. He walks around the other side and gets in. He starts the truck and pulls off.

"So where ya takin me?" Y/n asks leaning over the center console to be closer to Rafe. "You'll see." he says looking her way. "At least gimme a hint." she pleads. "You're gonna wanna take your shoes off when we get there." he says. "What?" she asks giving him a confused look.

"Just wait we're almost there." he says while chuckling at her confused expression. Eventually Rafe parks in a secluded part of a beach. "Okay, you gotta trust me. Alright?" he says looking says pulling out a blindfold. "What are tying to do with that?" she asks raising her eyebrows at him. He laughs at her insinuation before telling her he wants to suprise her.

She lets him tie it around her eyes and help her out of the truck. The two start walking and Y/n almost trips again. "I told you you'd wanna take your shoes off." Rafe laughs. Eventually they stop walking and Rafe takes her blindfold off. "What do you think?" Rafe asks as she looks at the picnic he had setup for them.

"Oh my God, I love it! How'd you know I like these?" she asks pointing to one of the snacks he laid out. "I had Barry tell me a bunch of your favorite snacks and stuff." he replies. She turns around and hugs him "This is the sweetest thing anyone's ever done for me." she says with a smile. He smiles back at her before he tells her to sit with him.

They sit side by side and watch the waves before Y/n gets an idea. She reaches out and grabs a chocolate covered strawberry. "Open." she tells Rafe as she goes to feed it to him. He takes a bite before saying "It's really good." "Is it?" she's asks before taking a bite of her own. "Oh yeah, these are mine now." she says while laughing before grabbing another and taking a bite.

Rafe laughs as he watches her. "You got something right here." he says pointing to the corner of his lip. "Do I?" she's asks and he nods. "Here lemme get it" he says using his thumb to wipe it off. This gives Y/n another idea. "You got something too lemme just..." she says as she leans in and presses her lips against Rafes.

He brings his hand up to her cheek and kisses her back. The kiss is sweet and simple unlike any kiss either of them have had before. She pulls away and giggles at the sight of her lipstick on Rafes lips. "What?" he asks smiling at her. She uses her phone to show him as she continues to laugh.

He laughs as well as sees himself. "It suits you." she says. "Yeah? Then give me some more." he says moving to press another kiss to her lips. Y/n smiles into the kiss as she puts her hand into his hair and gives it a gentle tug. Rafe pulls back "How does it look now?" he asks. "A little smudged." she replies as she wipes it away.

The two continue watching the waves and enjoying the snacks Rafe had brought. Eventually the sun sets and they lay back on the blanket. Rafe has his arm around Y/n's shoulder while they look at the stars. "Im so glad I moved here." Y/n says. "Me too." Rafe says as he presses a kiss to her forehead.

A/n: omg they're so cute i love them. anyways hope y'all enjoyed the fluff!!

#obx fic #obx fanfiction #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron one shot #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x you #rafe imagine #rafe one shot #rafe x y/n #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron x reader #rafe x you #rafe x barry's cousin!reader

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panelshowsource · 1 day ago

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i have a lot of episode requests i'm working on so i'll make another post with those shortly!

———

this is such a fun question — i wish i had an answer! most of my "conspiracy theories" have more to do with certain comedians being misunderstood (in both good and bad ways), as people tend to want to like who they like and hate who they hate out of selfishness that is somewhat at odds with reality. at times. like, for example, not a lot of people want to talk about how many comedians actually didn't like sean lock at all in the early 00s because of how cutthroat and competitive he was on panel shows (mock the week flashbacks, anyone?); we don't enjoy thinking about that because, as fans, we all like sean and think he was a hilarious, honest, decent person. i could talk more about this but tbh defending someone i think people misunderstand or tearing down someone people love is kinda...not the kind of discourse i'm trying to do on this website 😅 anyways, that's where most of my theories lie (that and dating theories? maybe?), but that's not enough to call them conspiracy theories ig? this isn't a conspiracy theory, right? because i so passionately believe everything i said there hahahaha

do you have any you'd share? 👀🌀

i think argumental is probably the most underrated to me, because as much as...no one...talks about shows like duck quacks don't echo and rhod gilbert's growing pains, they've had enough high-profile or just popular-within-britcom guests that people have checked them out even for just one specific episode. but i feel like no one has watched argumental!!!!!!! which, i get it, it's a lot of straight white guys standing around doing fake mainsplaining lol (please remember that before, like, 5 years ago, that's about all panel shows were) but i think the premise of impromptu debate is really funny, some of the formats really bamboozle the debaters which leads to funny banter and improv, and it was so fun to see sean lock in menace mode as host 😋

i can't say it's the best ever made or anything — because, like series like there's something about movies (jennifer saunders i love you!!!!), rob beckett's smart tv, etc it's just two opposite panels answering kinda boring questions — but if you love david tennant and i know you do because everyone rightly does then you should try comedy world cup! he's such a wonderful host and there are a lot of panel show faves as guests

and on the topic of meh-to-decent formats with A+ hosts and big name panels, have you ever tried was it something i said or insert name here? they each have their moments for sure, i think a lot of people wanted to see wisis come back (maybe we're all just obsessed with david 🤷‍♀️)

you MUST listen to the unbelievable truth if you haven't, it's such a stellar radio show

another required panel experience is the recent series guy mont spelling bee and i'm holding a gun to your head when i say this watch it and watch it right now

as many of you know i'm not a fan of a league of their own but the road trip series are def some of the better episodes so if you like the panelists you can check that out for sure

does that help a little? tbh most of what i WANT to recommend isn't panel shows but scripted series or tangential reality shows (like travel man), but you asked about panel shows specifically so i stuck with them!

i haven't, and i surprise myself because lil savage was so iconic and i am sure i scrolled past her era a bunch of times back in the day. i'd give it a try if an episode had the right amalgamation of guests, so i'll check it out!!

omg there are so many moments from so many series — and i added quite a few to these random panel shows moments posts i did last year so i'll try not to repeat myself — but let me rack my brain real quick...

as i always say THIS is my favourite wilty clip ever and i stand by that

david the tortoise

yoshi the actual tortoise

"if this turns out to be a lie you are a shamless little light entertainer"

tell 'em david!! cuz she really does have horrible views lol

the elephant :/

for the last six months i've been secretly liasing with david's wife behind his bak

obviously the horse story

omg and the THERE'S NOOOOOO UNIVERSITY story

and on the topic of classics this was always my bob mortimer fave maybe because of the genuine awe of the panel in the end lol

and on the topic of genuine awe definitely this one

this miles jupp car crash

bermuda

i love rhod's potato tattoo and it's so funny that denise is like 'why have you got that??' so sincerely she was so astounded lmaooo

i was genuinely invited to harry and megan's wedding today but i said no because i had to come here and do this

i once shared a tent in kent with susie dent

another recent fave is this adorable one<3

oh man anon there are soooo many more maybe i can work on a masterpost of both funny moments funny whole lies/truths, or a youtube video or something (i said i'd get back into making videos). did i mention even one of your faves?? hehehe

omg anon you must watch this if you haven't the ben whishaw obsession is NOT a drill

he also talks about it in his book!

god he's so relatable

OMG I DID the nostalgia...

the way they didn't want to just talk about popworld but they didn't go one whole minute without saying popworld hahahaha they're soooooo cute

richard the popworld horse mentioned!!!!!!!

miquita being a whole child when she got cast for popworld, like it's so wild to think about

"has it been clear from what we've discussed that i'm a reclusive genius and master of cinema?" + "we pretended to be pretentious directors in berets...and i have become that guy now"

i know they were 98% kidding but the 2% of them that would go through with the popworld baby?? CAN YOU IMAGINE

you can't be surprised that a guy who wears false teeth in the name of absurd comedy for a living enjoyed a film about a man who wears false teeth in the name of absurd comedy!

a friend of mine gifted me a while of nordvpn, so that's what i've been using lately, but it depends what you need a vpn for. for example, if you're torrenting and need to seed content (for ratios or whatever), you'll need something with port forwarding like airvpn. if you're just trying to find something to switch between countries' netflixes or abuse streaming services, surfshark is very popular but i'd say expressvpn comes more highly recommended. once you pick the vpn you'd like to use, it's easy to find tutorials on youtube!

aww you're too kind 🥹🫂

———

☆ FAQ ➜ PANEL SHOW WATCH LINKS • NON-PANEL SHOW WATCH LINKS ♥ https://ko-fi.com/panelshowsource

#a #lyricalfox #ohneweiterebedeutung

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scribbledghost · 18 hours ago

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Oooooo what you wrote about Vess fucking reader in front of the other vessels… phew 😮‍💨

Do you think Vess would intentionally project his sexy time with readers to tease the other vessels…? Or get them to tell him how to fuck her next?

Oh yes, 1000%. Vessel is nothing if not a tease, and if you're on board, he's absolutely projecting things to the other vessels purely to rile them up.

You can always tell he's about to ask about it when he gives you a toothy grin while he's thrusting into you.

"I think the others would enjoy some entertainment, don't you?"

As soon as you give him the go-ahead, he's looping the others into your exploits.

He's especially prone to projecting physical feelings, wanting them to know how good you feel around him. Hopefully none of them are doing anything important at the moment, because they get distracted real quick. He's also fond of projecting sounds, purely because you make the sweetest noises, and he knows they'd love to hear them as he makes you come for the third time that evening.

If he's feeling generous (but not quite generous enough to let any of them join you in-person), he'll allow them to make requests.

II tells him to slip a couple of his fingers into your mouth. III tells him to pull out and tap your clit with his cock a few times, just to see you squirm. IV tells him to flip you over so he can get a good mental view of your ass. Among other requests. They'll likely start begging to be included, but Vessel is having too much fun to give them what they want just yet. So they must be content with what he gives them, at least for now.

But be warned: the mental connection is a two-way street for all of you. If the vessels can communicate things to Vessel himself, they can communicate them to you, too. If you're susceptible to dirty talk, it's pretty much all over once they start talking to you through your own mind. They'll alternate between praising you and praising Vessel, helping to take both of you to a new height as you let yourself feel every sensation they impart on you.

#sleep token x reader #vessel x reader #ii x reader #iii x reader #iv x reader #polyvessels #vessel x ii x iii x iv #ghost scribbles #smut

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celestiallystella · 2 days ago

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Mer Legend/Link x gn!reader

back on my merman legend propaganda

progression of legend x reader, but with a strong focus on mer legend instead of hylian legend! won't have anything to do w/the chain, so he will simply be called link (though even then its used very little lol), and reader is a hylian native to legends hyrule :)

its prtty long, a lot of my rambles about him, but yk

hope you enjoy!

the first time you two meet he's in his mer form

youre in absolute DISBELIEF

youve been pretty sheltered most of your life, so you havent gone out and seen/experienced much, and now that you live by yourself you don't put any effort into learning about what everyone in the larger parts of hyrule think/know

you definitely dont think merfolk are real

AND YET heres this blonde haired mer, blinking up at you from the water

he looks just as shocked as you do

theres a lot of attempted gaslighting on his part

he isn't real, youre totally making him up, mer people?? nahhhh never

you, of course, don't believe him

he must realize he can swim away, because he does just that, leaving you hanging

it becomes a common thing, though, to stumble across this really odd mer

thankfully, over a lot of time, he starts to stick around a bit more and you guy get to talk

you learn his name is link, and that he's rather grumpy (though, maybe that's a bad word for it. tense and untrusting, maybe?)

he never answers ANY of your questions about what it's like to be a mer, and he'll often leave right after you ask him any questions

so, you learn not to ask questions!

instead, you talk about yourself, your interests, your family, your friends, just.. everything

the first few times, he doesn't seem to be really listening to anything you say. he's just collecting a lot of stuff off of the riverbed and stowing them away.

(the first time you ask what he's collecting he near growls, gets clearly embarrassed about that and promptly flees. you don't ask again)

either way, at some point he starts listening to you as he gathers materials.

he's not sure when he started to like listening to you talk, but it happened at some point and now he's come to look forward to it a lot

he gaslights himself into thinking its just funny to listen to your complaints when he's done and gone through so much. that it was just nice to be reminded that not everyone in hyrule is going through literal hell

it gets harder to convince himself that's his reasoning when he realizes he doesn't need to go back to the river near your house anymore

he doesn't want to go somewhere he doesn't need to, but eventually he gets super stressed by everything he has to deal with and decides thats a good enough excuse to go listen to some random person's ramblings

at that point, though, it's probably been weeks, so you've also stopped going

why would you go when the mer you liked talking.. uh.. to isn't there?

so, he shows up and is promptly bummed when he realizes you aren't there.

we all love link, i know, but you guys i fear he's a little dumb, so the thought of... taking the mermaid suit off never crosses his mind.

like he could take it off and just go knock on your door like a normal hylian would, but he could also depressingly lay on the riverbed like his lover has gone off to war and hasn't responded to any of his letters

anyway.

he repeats this a couple of times before deciding you've gotta come down eventually, right? and even he'll admit it at this point; he's starting to miss you

so everytime he comes, he'll bring an itty bitty shell of some sort and set it on the shoreline.

you think he's a mer, and he doesn't plan on telling you he isnt, so he might as well play into that

and hes right, eventually you do go down to the river and see the little pile of shells he's left you, like he's a bird waiting for his owner

you're definitely a bit surprised, but you collect the shells.

you go down early the next day with the shells in hand, a knife, and some string

as you wait to see if he'll turn up, you carve little holes into the shells and pull string through them

they're a bit too big for a necklace, unfortunately, but you can still make it into a decoration of some sort no issue.

he does show up eventually, and he gives you a smile when he sees you, which is probably one of the first youve seen from him. its small, but its meaningful

so anyway, you thank him for the shells, he gets a bit embarrassed and defensive, so you quickly move on

you start up the old routine of rambling on about different things

at first you had set your work aside to chatter, but unlike before when he would swim around while you talked and he gave idle, bland comments, now he sits with his arms crossed on the bank, head sitting on them and staring at you unnervingly

so, you pick the shells back up and keep working while he watches you

this guy does not realize he's acting weird in your eyes, so he remains where he is, tail and most of his upper body floating in the water, his chin and arms on the river bank

that becomes the new routine! eventually though, you do run out of shells to use and have to face his stare

for a minute the first time you stutter and choke on your words - you live in relative solitude, and, as aforementioned, you were relatively sheltered, so you really arent used to people paying such close attention to you and your words

you get by it though!

he does catch on at that point, and makes it a point to look away or start scratching random designs into the dirt under his hand whenever you end up stuttering again, which helps to get you more relaxed

he isn't really sure at what point during this he starts offering more about himself to you, but he does

his age, the fact that he's done a lot, how stressed he is (though, never the details) and other miscellaneous things, like his enjoyment of traveling and magic

youre thrilled to learn what you can about link

and after you find out about his tendency to hoard things, you offer the shells he gave you that you strung up back

he declines, and says that they were meant for you anyway, so you might as well keep them

i think thats when he realizes he must have developed some romantic feelings for you at some point, and just hadnt picked up on them

it definitely scares him at first

the last time he'd felt anything towards someone that he was confident he could label as being romantic, it was marin, and.. well..

so, yeah, it scares him off for a little bit.

you learned your lesson last time he disappeared, and still go down to the river pretty frequently.

anything that's not a house chore and can be done wherever starts to get done by the river, and that's just how it is now

he does come back eventually

he realizes that he knows damn well he isn't dreaming (though sometimes he isn't sure, but ever since all of that happened, hes never been too sure about anything)

he also decides that if this, if you, are a dream, maybe its a sign from Hylia herself to just kinda stop falling for people

so anyway, when he comes back he brings one of his necklaces with him. hes not sure if youll like it, or if youll wear it, but its really simple

just a black cord, and a small charm on it thats enchanted for protection

when he gives it to you, youre thrilled

maybe you wear jewelry a lot, maybe you dont, but either way its something easy to slip on and off and it's rather nondescript

plus its from link so of course you wear it

anyway, it snowballs from there and he starts gifting you random, small items

theyre either enchanted to protect you in some way, or they really are just random items

eventually YOU realize you like him too

for you i wanna say its an easy thing to accept. you like this silly, grumpy mer guy, and thats that

so youd confess first, probably after you confirm its not just a fleeting crush, and link probably glitches or something

anyway, you guys would totally have your first kiss with him awkwardly half out of the water and you on your knees crouched down

you fall in right afterwards, because the angle is so awkward

i think at this point he'd be worried you wouldnt like him once you find out hes not a merman, and he isn't really sure how youd react to him not being one, so i think he'd just show up at your door injured one night and panicking (though he won't say he's panicking)

you, also, panic before doing your best to help him

blah blah blah, he heals up, you guys talk about the fact that he is not, in fact, half fish, and you reassure him you dont only love him because hes half fish

thatd be silly of you

its something i think youd probably have to reinstate throughout your relationship with decreasing frequency over time

he never admits hes a bit insecure, but youve learnt to read his silent signals over time, so you can tell

he does appreciate it a lot, and he appreciates you even more

he's forever glad he decided on the river by your house to gather materials from

though, sometimes he still expects to wake up and find out it was all a dream (he never talks to you about that one, i fear)

idk might take this and do more with it, i kinda just rambled a loott and it all feels like it might be a decent template for a full fanfic but who knows!! not me, thats for sure LMAO

#gn reader #lu x reader #link x reader #lu legend x reader #mermaid legend #mer legend #no use of y/n #linked universe #requests open #ramblings of an obsessed woman 😌#legend of zelda #loz

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drop-dead-dropout · 1 day ago

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posting a kimharry oneshot here bc i'm too lazy to format it on ao3 rn but I'll reblog with the ao3 link later if I get around to it

so basically I was thinking about how kim is very my partner coded and I had this galaxy brain idea to write a fic where kim is asexual or uhhh. would grayace be the term? sorry idk but it's based on my partner I love him <3. also blink and you'll miss it trans harry but it's important to me that you know they're t4t in this lol. cw for suggestive (non-graphic discussions of sexuality and also it takes place Directly after them fucking), 1.3k words. (please be nice to me I've never posted fic on tumblr lol)

YOU — The air in your apartment is musty with the smell of sweat and sex. Your chest heaves with slightly strangled breaths, face burning with humiliation. You've always been a little (a lot) loose-lipped during orgasm—

ELECTROCHEMISTRY — Especially an orgasm like that, holy shit, Kim—

YOU — But you've never, in living memory, said anything quite as ridiculously and unashamedly needy as the complete word-vomit that just exited your mouth a few seconds ago.

REACTION SPEED [Easy: Failure] — Honestly, you were a little out of it and the exact phrasing is already slipping your mind, but it was something along the lines of... What was it again?

ENCYCLOPEDIA [Medium: Success] — Oh my fucking Dei don't stop, Kim please I need you so bad, god I'm so desperate, shit, you drive me fucking crazy, pleasepleaseplease—

SAVOIR FAIRE — Yeah, no, I'm cutting you off right there. He's already about to spontaneously combust, you don't need to embarrass him even more.

ENCYCLOPEDIA — He asked. Besides, I'm not the one who dropped the ball there.

COMPOSURE — Sorry for that, Harry.

KIM KITSURAGI — Kim's hands rest on your chest, tracing circles just below your twin scars with his nimble fingers. "Is that... Really how it feels, to you?"

EMPATHY — It's a genuine question, and he's smiling with an infectious fondness. He's not upset, just curious. Your eagerness is fascinating to him. And cute.

HALF-LIGHT — What does he mean by that, though? Are we too needy? Is it not good for him? Does he hate us and want us to die forever—

VOLITION — No. Shut up. We already agreed you're not allowed to talk when Harry's alone with Kim, don't you remember?

HALF-LIGHT — But! Danger!

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Trivial: Success] — It's Kim. There is no danger here.

YOU — At a loss for anything else to say, you just nod, a bit dumbly. "I mean... Yeah. Is it, uh, not like that for you?"

COMPOSURE [Formidable: Failure] — You try to play the question off as a nonchalant, but you're not even close to being a good enough liar to hide the mild undercurrent of fear in your voice. Especially not from him. (Khm. Sorry again.)

KIM KITSURAGI — "No, not really. It's not you," he quickly adds, seeing the obvious and barely-held back self-loathing in your expression. "It's just the way I am, I suppose. I'm too old to question it now."

DRAMA [Heroic: Success] — He's not lying to spare your feelings, sire. This is truly just a facet of himself that's always been there.

RHETORIC [Challenging: Failure] — By the way, you distinctly recall hearing him talk about having had sex before. Quite a bit, in fact.

YOU — "But wait, I thought—"

KIM KITSURAGI — Already having anticipated this line of questioning, Kim laughs a bit under his breath. "It wasn't a lie; I never said I don't. Actually, sometimes that made it better— without all the messy urgency, I guess I seemed 'cool', to borrow your phrasing. And it's not like I didn't enjoy it, either." He shrugs. "It was just... Something to do. I never really understood the intensity."

SHIVERS [Legendary: Success] — A dozen miles and many years ago, two young men make out in a musty old apartment. "How are you always so— so unaffected," one says to the other with a breathy laugh. In a few months he will repeat these words with a much uglier tone, and they will be the last ones Kim ever hears from him.

EMPATHY [Heroic: Success] — For the record, he was not, in fact, "unaffected" by that particular heartbreak. Don't ever hurt him like that.

YOU — Before you can think better of it, you find yourself saying, "Is that bad?"

KIM KITSURAGI — A twitch in the corner of his mouth interrupts his relaxed grin for a moment. You almost want to mourn the loss. "I don't know, Harry, is it? Why do you think it would be?"

PAIN THRESHOLD — You've hurt him, idiot. We just told you not to do that.

YOU — "I-I mean— it's just—" Your teeth click audibly with how quickly you shut your own mouth. You really, really don't want to fuck this up.

HALF-LIGHT — Too late.

VOLITION [Challenging: Success] — HEY. Back in the corner, you.

YOU — Guys, please help me. I don't know anything about… Well, anything, really, but especially not this. How do I fix it? What do I say to make him feel better?

INLAND EMPIRE — You could start by actually answering his question, instead of rushing to apologize. Why do you think it would be bad? What about the concept is uncomfortable to you?

SUGGESTION [Medium: Success] — Kim feels safe with you, in the same way that you do with him. Be honest. He knows you didn't mean anything by it— the only way you could fuck this up is by not talking to him.

YOU — After a moment of pondering, you find the right words. Or maybe not the right words, but the ones that feel the most true: "I don't know. But I know I would be unhappy, if I was... Different to how I am now."

EMPATHY — Kim's eyes flash with a bit of surprise. But good surprise, like an old friend dropping by unexpectedly. The smile returns (yay!)— smaller, but softer, and almost giddy. It's not one you see on him often, a bit too unguarded and juvenile for his tastes. It's the most beautiful thing you've ever seen.

KIM KITSURAGI — "So would I," he says simply.

DRAMA [Challenging: Success] — He means it.

YOU — "Oh." You blink two or three times. "Oh. Well that's good, then, right? That you're happy?"

PERCEPTION (HEARING) — Something about the almost childish sincerity in your voice must be funny to him, because he keeps doing that thing where he chuckles under his breath, and coughs to try to cover it.

PAIN THRESHOLD [Formidable: Failure] — He's laughing at you.

AUTHORITY [Trivial: Failure] — Exactly. He's mocking you, Harry, he thinks you're an idiot. Make him respect you—

EMPATHY [Easy: Success] — He's in love, you moron.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY — As if on cue (or maybe your internal dialogue is just more easily observable from the outside than you thought), Kim leans forward and kisses you. For the first time, you notice how effective he is at responding to your reactions, like he's trying to find and wring out every last happy sigh and spark of oxytocin he could possibly give you.

INTERFACING [Medium: Success] — Because he likes this. He likes pressing all your buttons and seeing what they do, which ones work the best. (Almost all of them work, when it's him. Maybe a little too well.)

ENDURANCE — Hey, don't look at me like that! It's not my fault he doesn't play fair.

SAVOIR FAIRE — Exactly. How are we supposed to be cool in front of Kim? He's like, the coolest.

KIM KITSURAGI — "I love you," Kim whispers, his lips tickling against your collarbone.

SAVOIR FAIRE — See?! He even makes THAT sound cool, a thousand times cooler than when we say it, which is, like, every five seconds!!

EMPATHY — It's true that you're usually the one to say it first. For a time, he hardly said it at all— you learned not to take it personally. You certainly have your own baggage. But lately, it's been nice to watch as he gets a bit more comfortable.

EMPATHY [Formidable: Success] — The cuddling usually seems to help, in moments like this.

CONCEPTUALIZATION [Godly: Success] — After all, what is a hug but a way to hide your face?

YOU — You wind your arms tighter around him. "I love you, too, Kim." And you swear he must be able to feel the way your lungs glow.

EMPATHY — He does. Of course he does.

INLAND EMPIRE — For a moment, you think you can feel his, too.

SHIVERS [Legendary: Success] — SLEEP WELL, MY DARLINGS.

#the doctor who sneak at the end... listen that line changed my life ok #i very much enjoy the script-esque format of disco elysium. sorry if i lean on it too much lol #can you tell i was curious if i could use the word “sex” as little as possible in this #alex writes sometimes #<- fic tag for if i ever do this again ig #disco elysium #harry du bois #kim kitsuragi #kimharry #disco elysium fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #ao3 #debated color coding the skills like i usually do in my google docs but decided it would probably be obnoxious lol #asexual #<- is it okay to use that tag? I'M not asexual but the fic is about asexuality #and based on my partner irl who is asexual #. i'm probably overthinking it

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kyouka-supremacy · 2 days ago

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Hi!!! Hope you're having a great day! 🤗🌸

Anyways, what's your favourite underrated sskk official art? (There are so many good ones🫠)

Thank you kisses you kisses you kisses you looking at sskk pictures is my favourite thing

I think this one best fits the category of “underrated sskk official art”. I fee like it's both very representing of what sskk is, and rather not talked about? To be fair though, it came out in 2016, so it's very old. I just think it's very cool and masculine and a lot of things sskk embody. Atsushi's got that confident, sassy, relaxed pose that he only allows when he's around Akutagawa. Akutagawa looks mysterious and elusive and very non-humanly shaped, which is all very Akutagawa. The covered mouth Akutagawa trademark and the equally trademark side glance; he's so ambiguosuly positioned, you really can't tell if he's supposed to be a friend or a foe. And especially, the composition where their figures complete each other!!!! This art just screams. Sskk.

It's the Young Ace issue #2016-5, coming out only two days before the anime first season started airing; I think they wanted something to represent bsd up to that point? And they picked sskk to do that!

Other than that, a perhapsslightly better known illustration but still not discusses about as much as I'd like, this other Young Ace cover, issue #2022-02! (Here in a cleaned version by @/pufforash on Twitter). Truly stunning illustration in my opinion, I love the composition, I love their determined expressions. The sskk standee of this art is like, my dream merch of all time (╥﹏╥)

One last honourable mention, this art from Harukawa's twitter? It's so pretty and cool... I love Harukawa's art style from this period.

As per anime art, my favourite underrated sskk illustration is easily the 4th Dars collaboration art! (Scan by @ikiyou). The anime art style is most of the time a hit or miss for me, and this one is a big hit. I really love the art style!! And how softly they depicted sskk here. The happy and friendly atmosphere is such a refreshing change of setting for them. The casual outfits! Atsushi glancing at Akutagawa and smiling! Akutagawa looking back at Atsushi! I love this one so much!!!

This other one from Pash! issue #2017-3!! Another great example of “wow, I can't believe sskk can look so happy and relaxed around each other”. They're so cute!!!

Finally, I think we don't talk enough about the third official guidebook Tenkaroku cover? This is another illustration that just screams sskk to me. I love it when they visually complete each other. It's such a nice illustration!!

#Sskk!!!!#ryūnosuke akutagawa #atsushi nakajima #sskk #shin soukoku #bsd #bungou stray dogs #mine #people asks me stuff #Can't wait to be able to see the new artbook so that navigating through Harukawa bsd art will be a lot easier...#I hope it's filled with plenty of new sskk art 🙏🙏🙏

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poisonedspider · 2 days ago

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Tw: Brief drama under the cut. Not going to mention names so I guess it could be considered 'vague' posting, but it's also just kind of something that irks me in the RPC in general.

It really hurts my heart knowing that I have had individuals directly talk shit to me about other individuals, then are writing with them like they haven't talked smack. I'm such a protective type that I want to jump in and warn people about that behavior, but I also never want to lean into drama and so I just sit here and feel my heart hurt because it makes me so grumpy.

It's something I've come to realize happens a lot in the RPC. I see it significantly less in this fandom, thank goodness, but it seems to me like in an effort to have as many threads as possible or write with as many people, people will just do it, no matter what they think of the individual behind the blog. Like yes, separation of mun and muse is great, PLEASE do it, we are not our muses. But it seems kinda shitty to see people writing with people when behind their backs they are actively like, "I can't stand this person and this behavior."

Like guys, c'mon. Let's not be two-faced. We had enough of that shit in high school. There's a reason I don't write with any of the people I have issues with, no matter how much I love their characters or their writing.

#ooc: i am too sober for this;;#tw: drama #tw: rpc drama #again this isnt really directed towards anyone in particular #just something ive noticed recently #and it triggers like some high school memories because that's what it feels like - high school #and we all know ive never been the type of person to stay silent in the face of what i see as injustice #so even if people hate me for this...whatever

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dandysworldhcs · 2 days ago

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ANGSTANGSTANGSTANGSTANGST

who will I be making depressed today? the mains because I kin 3 of them holy shit (in two parts. this is part one YIPPEE) (also these are the 3 I kin)

berry boy:

ahem. after the ichor incident, sprout became really scared for what could happen, but eventually he suppressed it and basically turned it into a kind of need to feel like he's protecting someone. like for example even if everyone is safe he just HAS to check just in case because what if this what if that this could go wrong that could go wrong if this happens that could happen and this has happened before so if I do this I can lessen the chances of thing happeni- and gets burnt out significantly quicker than... literally everyone else in gardenview. he won't admit it though he'll just sit in his room with the door barricaded (the handlers had the keys to the door locks) trying to function properly, and if someone tries to check on him he'll hide under his bed or desk to avoid being seen because UH OH DANGER DANGER WHY AM I BEING SEEN DOING NOTHING UHHHH OH NO !!! irrational panic basically (even though the only entrance is barricaded...). also, when he discovered tapes could be used to heal he immediately began using them on runs because if even a single person is not on full health he cannot feel relaxed in the slightest- but the dumbass doesn't care if he's on one and WILL run away from cosmo at 1 if he doesn't have enough tapes to heal him back (I'm totally not projecting all of this totally). also random but he will definitely cry if you yell at him (he'll go somewhere to hide before crying though). also has a habit of assuming everything that goes wrong has to be his fault because 'he was supposed to make sure everything went fine'

asstroke:

eepy hypersomniac who in a lot of situations wants to just sleep instead. he dozes off a lot because of that. also, it might be a bit subtle, but he can tell when his friends aren't rested, and usually tries to fix it, even if it's the kind of tired sleep can't fix. also, the guilt from knowing too much about the ichor operation and not being able to say anything about it to protect dandy eats at him endlessly. but you know when he's free from all that? in his curated dreams, where nothing can affect him, where he can be happy, free from all the depressing truths gardenview has to offer (think basil from omori but with sunny's headspace). he's starting to see everything as a kind of cycle... and he's kinda losing motivation to do pretty much anything, but he kinda still has to to survive so. also, the insecurity about his extra arms came from when gardenview was still open, a lot of children called him bug-like for it or even just straight-up scary or ugly, so now he just hides 'em by turning himself into a burrito with his blanket. also, not depressing but... he's just always cold, so he wears a shirt, another shirt, then poncho, then blanket

ammonite wannabe:

being constantly ignored by everyone has increasingly proved to her that no one really cares about her, and that has made her more open about her feelings. no one's listening, what's the point in not thinking out loud? she's done the thing where she just doesn't talk and sees if anyone notices... and they do! but they jokingly say 'aren't you gonna start yapping about dinosaurs around about now?' but unfortunately, she didn't realise it was in a joking way and ended up 'realising' everyone thought of her as the dinosaur girl, not anything else. not a person, not someone worth loving, just 'the girl who likes dinosaurs'. she also secretly gets REALLY happy whenever she gets hurt on a run because that means she'll get healed, which is a form of care!!! yay!!! (can you see the dynamic yet. guy who stresses whenever anyone gets slightly hurt and girl who loves getting hurt to feel cared about. and they're totally 100% not both me) sometimes people just don't notice, but usually it's fine. she yaps about dinosaurs because it's something she's interested in and she wants people to know all about them!!! but unfortunately people thought it was annoying that she talked about them so much, so they avoided her. this led to her thinking that people just don't want to be around her, and that they weren't wrong for it

- psstyourbonesarewet anon

wet bone anon. watch out. im coming for you. you arent gonna see it comonv.

#freakin uhh mod daz #HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO MEEEEEEEEE #psstyourbonesarewet anon #dandys world #dw #dandys world headcanons #dw headcanons #sprout dandys world #sprout dw #shelly dandys world #shelly dw #astro dandys world #astro dw

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aettuddae · 3 days ago

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HONEYCOMB — chapter 31.

꩜ synopsis: the lavier-choi's, a french-korean family from seoul's elite that runs an electric vehicle production business, has been preparing to face a looming economic crisis that could crumble their empire, and it all takes a turn for the worse when, unexpectedly, their patriarch, who headed the company, suddenly passes away. at the news and her mother's desperate call, albany, the eldest daughter, is forced to abandon her life in paris representing france as a professional fencer and return to her homeland to face her mom's old-fashioned whims in order to help the family. amidst all the frenzy, the only positive thing she finds is that, after years, she will be reunited with her siblings and all the friends she grew up with, especially the yu family from across the street.

masterlist | prev | next

[written chapter]

the lavier-choi house was gigantic, of course it was, it was full of large windows overlooking the spacious courtyard that looked as if they had a park on their property. maybe it was because of the family's french influence, but little felt like seoul in that mansion. the kitchen was rustic, predominantly brown and its variants, and from the wooden-edged window just above a countertop yu jimin watched albany choi.

albany missed fencing. it was her life, it ran through her veins, and with the death of her father she had hardly had the strength to practice that last month. but that morning she couldn't stand it any longer and woke up early to go out to the yard to practice lunging with her old equipment that had been lying full of dirt in her room until that day.

the girl had been in the yard for hours in the middle of a difficult battle with the air and it had been a while since jimin had been glued to that window to admire her while drinking the coffee she had prepared.

albany still wasn't talking to her, it even seemed like she was avoiding her. after they kissed the night before, she hadn't been able to look her in the face, and jimin didn't understand if it was because she regretted it, because she was still upset, or because she was confused.

jimin watched her do what she loved most in the world like someone who sees a work of art that moves you or a tree with beautiful flowers. a smile came across her face and she felt like she could be there all day.

if she just stared at albany without her knowing it, then the problems between the two of them didn't exist.

but they did exist, and someone had to fix them. their friendship was worth more than any fight, and she hated feeling so bad when she remembered they weren't on good terms. so jimin finished her cup of coffee, washed it and then put it away to walk out into the courtyard to where albany was, grabbing her attention.

"don't you want to take a break?" she asked when she was close enough for her to hear her.

"no." she replied dryly.

"you've been practicing since 8 a.m." she observed with a tone of concern.

"i didn't become an olympic medalist by taking breaks." she reasoned without looking at her, still practicing her stroke as she spoke.

"you're seriously not going to rest?" she folded her arms with her head cocked to the side.

"not for a good while."

"then i'll help you." on the ground there was discarded fencing equipment, so she reached over and grabbed a jacket that albany wasn't wearing since she had no opponent who could hurt her.

karina didn't know as much about fencing as albany, she had seen her compete a few times personally and on television, she understood the rules and could tell who was winning, but she didn't have the slightest idea how she should use a sword, what kinds of weapons there were or where she should touch and with what. yet she had already helped albany before and only had to try to block her or move the sword a little, so she wasn't worried about that.

"jimin, it's not necessary." albany looked exhausted, not from so much exercising, but from the situation. you could tell she didn't want to see the blackhaired.

but the younger girl wanted the exact opposite. she wanted to talk, she wanted to understand what was going on in the older girl's head since this was one of the few times she had no idea about it. she wanted to apologize if she had to, and to be okay.

jimin picked up a wooden sword, she recognized it at first glance as it was the first one albany had ever had in her life and it had been made by her father when she was nine years old. it had been years since the blonde hadn't touched it, but it was always in her old bag and when jimin helped her practice it was the one she used, so she wouldn't hurt anyone.

the girl positioned herself in front of the blonde, right where she had been striking for hours without any opponent and stood on guard. the opponent grumbled for a moment, but finally copied the position. it served her right to have an opponent.

"prêts?" —ready? —voiced albany. "allez!" —forward. —they both rushed to the front.

jimin already had her instructions etched in her brain, move back and forth, try to block albany until she inevitably touched her with her weapon. it didn't take long, other times the blonde made it easy for her, but this time she was annoyed and she was saying it through her fencing. she blocked her once, twice, until albany's sword went in and jabbed her side.

"touche." the oldest announced.

"i noticed." the younger one spoke wryly.

"if you're going to be in a bad mood then i'd rather train alone." she turned to get her water bottle.

"you're in a bad mood." she rebutted. "i'm just trying to spend time with you."

"we can spend time together when i'm not training." she took a sip of her drink.

jimin let out an annoyed sigh and made a forward lunge taking the opportunity to strike albany's arm with her wooden sword, causing her to groan.

"and why was that?" she exclaimed.

"because you're acting like an idiot." she accused.

"me?" she pointed her own finger at her chest. "i'm acting like an idiot?" she laughed wryly. "do i have to remind you of everything you did?"

"we talked about it, albany."

"you planned to marry my brother and you kissed him!" she threw her weapon on the ground. "you didn't say a word to me." she recalled. "i'm your best friend, jimin." her voice came out in a high-pitched tone out of desperation. "but of course, i'm the one acting like an idiot." she dropped, sitting down on the ground.

"i already explained that i wanted to do it for you." she took a few steps towards albany and used her sword to push her chin up making her look at her. "it was all to help you."

"and how do i know you're telling the truth?" she asked as she pushed the tool away from her face. "you don't tell me things anymore." she accused.

jimin squatted down in front of albany, getting right up to her face. "you know i'm telling you the truth." she assured her. "no one knows me better than you." she caressed the girl's cheek.

"and the kiss?" she inquired, a little calmer.

"i told you i kissed sunwoo on impulse, i don't feel anything for him, it was just an instinc-"

"the kiss with me." she interrupted.

albany searched for jimin's eyes to see what they said about the situation, but they didn't want to be met. the younger girl averted her gaze to the floor and sides in embarrassment. albany used to talk about all topics with her, but she thought that would seem awkward to her too and thus wouldn't bring up the subject. she froze when she mentioned it.

"i was asked to kiss the most attractive person in the room." she reminisced. "and i already told you, you are the prettiest of your siblings." she lowered her head, it was true, she had mentioned it to her before in a playful way to reassure her, she wasn't telling her anything new.

"why didn't you kiss sunwoo again?" she confronted.

"i didn't want to." she admitted, it was the truth.

"how does that work?" in her words it was beginning to show how angry she was at the lack of answers. "one day you want to kiss him and the next day you don't?"

"i never wanted to kiss him!" she cried out in frustration. "i was happy and it was an impulse." she justified again. "at that time i still thought i would marry him, you are the first one to tell me i am impulsive." she rested her hands on the floor and with these she supported herself as she unfolded her legs to sit. "i don't like sunwoo." she stated. "i kissed you."

"you kissed me because it was the easiest thing to do." she assumed.

"yes, albany, it was easier to kiss you before you had another episode of hysteria." she conceded, already annoyed by all the questioning. "but i wanted to do it." she confessed without much thought. "i wanted to kiss you, so i did."

they were both silent, jimin regretting having said that and with her heart pounding in such a way that it felt like it would pierce her chest and run away, and albany recalculating what she had meant to infer with that statement.

"did you want to kiss me?"

"no." she hesitated. "i mean, i did want to." her words were treated as they came out. "because it's you." she covered her face with her hands from embarrassment. "and i didn't want to kiss your brothers." she rambled on without getting to a point. "i mean, you were the easier solution." she looked at her. "but i didn't kiss you because it was less complicated." she kept saying nonsense. "i mean, it's not that i kissed you so i wouldn't generate more drama, but i did kiss you because it was the easiest thing to do." she tried to explain. "do you understand?"

"no." she shook her head.

"just know it wasn't so you wouldn't get mad." she simplified. "it was a kiss with good intentions."

"if you say so..." albany looked at her with furrowed brows trying to piece together her whole mess of sentences in her head to make sense of it.

"shall we continue training?" she proposed to try to end that awkward situation.

"okay." she nodded understanding that neither of them wanted to talk about it any further and that somehow everything had been settled.

(!)

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