#if i had the ability to gif this would be a much better post lol

[daylighted]

♡ㅤSPORTS CAR! with [ dean winchester ] & [ angel!reader ]ㅤ (18+!!)

. . . dove really likes dean's car. or, let him drive it real far.

notes, i was going to post a dean & angel thing for his birthday... better late than never! have a sports car by tate mcrae inspired drabble as an apology<3 THIS IS SMUT! MDNI! also i don't think it needs to be said, but don't attempt this at home. all actions performed by professionals!

★ ˚⋆

dean only needs one hand to drive.

it was once something you marveled at — his innate ability to speed down open streets, tires squealing in the dusty dirt roads, as one hand steered the wheel and the other crept up your thigh.

skills needed to be exercised and pushed to strengthen their foundations. that was along the lines of what dean had said, once, before his fingers reached the button on your jeans to undo them.

even broken clocks were right twice a day. dean did not need both hands to steer the car, as he told you, and he did not need both to drive well.

he pushes a little harder on the gas, the engine revving, the sound of it miniscule compared to the mewling in the back of your throat as you ground your hips farther down on the length of his cock. his free hand rests firmly on your waist, trying to keep you steady as you squirmed.

"do you want me to crash, baby?" he asks in your ear, words a little breathless, "is that it?"

your lips stutter open and closed in a wordless denial, only managing to shake your head instead of mouth out a response. dean's grip on your hip guides your shallow movements farther down onto him, stretching your tight heat around the girth of his thick cock. "no, you don't want us to crash, dove," he mumbles, his breath hot in the crook of your neck, mouth pressed to the back of your shoulder, "that'd ruin the fun, wouldn't it? my pretty dove likes the thrill."

dean shifts a little beneath you, the act making him bury deeper into you, a little gasp falling from your pouty pink lips. he presses a kiss to your shoulder blade in response, a shudder wracking through your muscles at the light touch. "yeah? tell me how much y'like it, dove."

you weren't sure that you had the capabilities to say something coherent in that moment, but you choke on a response regardless. "yes," is what comes out, and even then, it's more of a gasp than it is a word. dean chuckles low and raspy in your ear, bucking his hips up in slow, deliberate movements that make his foot press harder on the gas pedal. the engine revs again. your head tips back into his chest. "dean─"

"y'know how fast we're goin'?" dean grunts into your ear, the hand on your hip shifting to grab one of your wrists and pry it off of its death grip on his muscular thigh. he lifts your hand to his mouth for a second, kissing your open palm, before resting it on the steering wheel. "not nearly fast enough."

the same hand reaches across you for your other hand, and finally, you pull your eyes away from the expansive back roads to watch his movements. another kiss to your palm, the other joined at ten and two on the steering wheel. "what are─"

"do you trust me?"

never have you nodded yes faster before. yes, you trusted dean. yes, you would do anything for dean. yes, he knew this; exploited it often, prodding at what he knew was your sole weakness. dean's hand on the wheel lifts off, both of them now going back to your thighs.

"make sure we don't get ourselves killed f'me, yeah?" dean's laugh is breathless and airy, the same nervous energy that you'd heard that first night alone with him, when he'd taught you how to drive. the circumstances were different now; impossibly higher stakes.

you swallow thickly, jerking the wheel to the right again when it starts to drift into wrong lane. you're distracted ─ dean can't possibly expect perfection from you when your head is in the clouds and spinning.

thankfully, there's no scolding or scathing comment. the only thing that comes is a slight lift of your hips with his grip beneath your thighs as he shifts again, half sitting and half sat up. dean bends you over the steering wheel just enough for you to keep a steady control over the car, and just enough to─

a mixture of the car's revving engine and his panting breaths in your ear and skin slapping against skin overwhelm your senses. he's buried inside of you now, enough to where you can feel each thrust bruising against your cervix.

"what would the other angels say if they saw my angel, all spread out for me like this, goin' 78 in a 40?" his hands move to your ass, squeezing the skin between his warm palms, using that grip to work you deeper onto him. you're forced to keep your head forward, eyes on the road, when all you want to do is squirm and bury yourself back into his chest and cry out.

you barely manage a whimpering, throaty whine of, "prob'bly say─ t'slow down─"

dean laughs heartily this time, his nose brushing against your jawline, pressing hot, wet kisses down the column of your throat. his head lifts, and so does one of his hands, fingers grasping the hem of your dress and pulling it up again from where it'd slipped back down.

a glance in the rearview mirror reveals the fabric held tightly between his teeth. his eyes are downcast, watching intently as he buries into you, his cock slick with your juices. his eyes flick up to meet yours, one corner quirked upwards. "eyes on the road, dove."

you glance back out of the windshield just in time to see a stop sign─ and blow past it. dean's head hits the back of the seat with a thump as he laughs this time, and the lightness in his voice is enough to make you laugh, too. as breathless as him, a burst of adrenaline sparking through your veins.

how long had it been since dean felt this free? part of you wishes to keep this moment going forever, to travel the universe in the backroads as he finds ways to bend you and maneuver you around in every space of his car, to wail his name in every state. the other part knows you aren't going to last much longer. there's energy pumping through your veins that shoots straight down to between your legs, your foot moving to rest over his on the gas, pressing down harder.

you expect an easy, tiger. it wouldn't be the first time that you'd tested a limit and found the invisible edge of a barrier. what comes out of dean's mouth is a rasping groan and a, "there's my girl."

he doesn't say anything after that, which somehow proves to make everything all the more intense. kansas is wheatfields and long, winding roads that never seem to end.

the wind rushes in through the open windows, your hair blowing in your eyes, roaring in your ears. how long had it been since you felt this alive?

it's a passing thought, but it leaves traces of itself in your blood. dean deserved to live a little, sometimes; you deserved to live a little all of the time, to let him teach you all that he knew and relive it alongside you.

dean's finger pries your mouth open, releasing your lip from your teeth. "make that face again n' m'not gonna last."

you smile, a wicked little thing that he's began to call your devil's grin. you sink further back onto him with each of his thrusts, and he groans all over again, something unintelligible in your ear about being wicked and unfair and other whining sounds that sound more like excuses to keep this dragging on.

you don't want the moment to end. he doesn't want the moment to end. but fate had its pretty ways of cruelty, and you were beginning to feel the telltale signs of impending bliss. you move to bite down on your lip again and find dean's finger instead, his mouth trailing a string of kisses down your shoulder blade. "nice try, honey."

with the growth of your relationship came a longer list of pet names. dove, baby, honey, my girl. each one set a fire ablaze in your belly. you stumble on a breathy moan, your eyes briefly squeezing shut before you remember they need to be open, your lives in your hands, held delicately between your palms.

"i'm─" the words are difficult. dean likes to talk for the both of you while he fucks the sentiments and the sentences out of you.

somehow, the grind of his hips and each shallow thrust becomes more erratic. "yeah," dean says in response, and it's no clarification to you, either, what he's trying to say.

silence again, except for the wind listening in, and the car's rumbling engine. you're racing against time and yourself, each gasping breath becoming throatier, whinier, dean's hot breath on your sweaty skin making you squirm, until─

you cry out, fingers tightening around the steering wheel, your legs clenching together and foot lifting off of the pedal at the intensity of it. dean's pace never slows even as your heart pounds, each thrust more slick-sounding from the orgasm. you almost lift a hand off of the steering wheel to stop him, to grasp his thigh and pause, but his cock twitches inside of you against the fluttering heartbeat of your sensitive walls, and there's no point to stopping him.

always in sync, now, sam once said in passing after you and dean had stopped dancing around each other. he didn't know how true it really was.

dean's cock stays buried in you, filling you up with the thick and hot release of his come. he presses his forehead to the curve of your neck, his foot slowly easing off of the gas finally. the car slows, but your hands don't leave the wheel, gripping it so tight that your knuckles have paled.

"m'gonna pull over," you mumble, easing the car to the side of the road, the right half of it treading spurts grass and the left still kicking dust and dirt up in baby's wake. "because i can't see."

dean's mouth curves against your skin; you feel it rather than see it, since his face has not left the spot between your shoulder blades yet. "you're a little adrenaline junkie in the makin', y'know that?" a light kiss to one of the ridges along your spine as he slumps back into the seat properly, tugging you down along with him in the process. "gettin' off on the speed and the danger."

he catches your elbow before you rear it back into his ribs. this part is a common occurrence of your little escapades. your tricks are becoming easy to pick up on. "you start wrestlin' me, honey, i'm gonna remind you how that backseat feels."

supposed to be a threat but you both know it's a promise, a given. as if you could ever forget how the leather of the backseat felt on your bare skin, anyways.

you twist your neck around once you've fully rolled to a stop along the side of the road, just enough to see the glaze in dean's glimmering green eyes. the moon hangs above his head, now, painting him in a wash of pale blue. he's always been beautiful, but there's something about the post-bliss of him that makes him devastating.

his smile becomes shier when he notices how you're studying him. you open your mouth to tell him everything you love about him, overwhelmed with it all at once, but he intercepts it with a warm, lingering kiss to your cheekbone.

your eyes close, face scrunching up as the single kiss becomes an onslaught of them over that side of your face. "dean!"

"mm?" he's not deterred, and again, you want to tell him every way that you love him. love how he loves, love how his dark eyelashes frame and brighten the pale of his eyes, love how he's always gentle even when he's trying to be rougher with you, love how he kisses and nips purple bruises into your neck in the shape of hearts.

maybe you would have said it, too. maybe you would have opened your heart and let himself make a home within it, right there on the side of a kansas dirt road, frogs chirping their own soundtrack to your unconventional love story.

the low fuel light dings onto the dash. the words vanish from your mouth, along with the courage you'd built up in your sated daze.

"how fast you think we can get to a gas station?" dean asks, the mischief evident in his voice, as he nips your earlobe between his teeth.

you sit up straighter in his lap, not even bothering to move yourself out of his lap, off of the half-hardness still buried inside of you. "let's find out."

the tires squeal as you peel out of your temporary parking spot, and you realize, then, that you don't really need to tell him how much you love him. not out loud. his arms slinking around your waist, cheek pressed to your skin and your dress low on your back, trusting you fully to drive his car, was love enough.

notes, the innocence is a virtue sequel i never planned on making but we all deserved. sorry if it's bad or incoherent it was actually supposed to be at least 1k shorter than this.

tags, @figthoughts @jasvtsc @titsout4jackles @deansbite @whisperingwillowxox @bombarda-babe @whyyouegg @bluemerakis @loverslantern @bitchykittenconnoisseur @jensenacklesantidote @keira-kaz2y5 @sthefferrete @depressionbarbie2023 @honeyryewhiskey @ultravi0lence14 @bleuatlas @minettacreekk @moonstruksandco @moodyquesadilla @severe-mental-illness @cevansbaby-dove @deansbeer @bluestrd @mccartneyqp @im-bili @chevroletdean @angelblqde @lyarr24 @psyches-reid @momoewn @globetrotter28 @starzify @florchids @ryngzmn @aileenunfiltered @beausling @frosttbitessam @amberlthomas

[jezebelblues]

so not cool | h.s

summary: in which spiderman is obviously much cooler than dad

cw: dadrry. overuse of the word spider-man. u could play a drinking game by how much its mentioned prolly

word count: approx 1.7k

| the result of being up for 20h, writers block n being bored out of my mind !! idk what this is but…it’s..definitely an addition to the dadrry universe .. for sure (prob will delete 🔥)

not necessary but here’s the first dadrry post if ur into that

masterlist

July 2021

The sound of the credits rolling filled the living room as Harry leaned back against the couch, a sleepy grin tugging at his lips. Atlas, now three years old and still wide-eyed with excitement, sat curled up against his father’s side, his tiny fingers clutching the corner of a fleece one direction blanket that Harry had bought off Etsy, something he found to be absolutely hilarious. They had just finished watching the original Spider-Man movie, the one with Tobey Maguire, and Harry couldn’t help but chuckle at the awe that was practically radiating off his son.

“Dad,” Atlas breathed, his voice filled with wonder as he looked up at Harry with those big, round eyes that mirrored his mother’s. “Pider-man s’cool.”

They were working on his pronunciation of R’s and S’s. Not too much progress yet.

Harry bit back a laugh, ruffling his son’s messy curls as he glanced down at him. “Yeah, he’s pretty cool, isn’t he?”

Atlas nodded vigorously, his little legs kicking against the couch as his excitement bubbled over. “He climbs n’ has webs n’ fights ba’guys!”

Harry grinned, watching the way Atlas’s face lit up as he recounted all of the abilities with the fervor only a toddler could muster. His little hands gestured wildly as if he were mimicking shooting webs out of his wrists.

“Best superhero in’a whole world!” Atlas declared, sitting up straighter as if this revelation were the most important one he’d ever made.

Harry chuckled, reaching over to grab the remote and lower the volume on the TV. “Better than Batman?”

“Super much better.” Atlas exclaimed, his voice incredulous, as if he couldn’t believe Harry would even ask such a thing.

“Better than Iron Man?” Harry tried again, his tone teasing as he listed off another iconic hero.

His boy paused for a moment, his brow furrowing in concentration as he thought it over. His little hand lifted to his chin in the same way Harry often did when he was deep in thought, and he couldn’t help but smile at the sight of it. After a moment, Atlas shook his head decisively. “M’yeah. Way cooler.”

Harry leaned back against the couch, folding his arms as he played along. “So, that’s it? Peter Parker’s just the best?”

“Yeah!” Atlas said excitedly, jumping off the couch and running around the living room, pretending to shoot webs from his wrists. “He’s fast ‘nd he can climb buildings like this!” He hopped up on the couch and began to scale the back of it with his small, wobbly legs, pretending he was on the side of a skyscraper.

Harry leaned forward, his hands hovering near Atlas to catch him in case he lost his balance. “Easy there, spidey,” he chuckled. “No need to break the couch, bub.”

Atlas giggled as he perched himself on the top of the couch, still caught up in his make-believe world. He turned to Harry, his eyes bright with excitement. “Daddy?” He paused, watching his father’s gaze resettle upon him. “y’think spideys stronger than you?”

Harry raised an eyebrow, smirking as he leaned back against the couch again. “Stronger than me, huh? That’s a tough one. I mean, I’ve got some pretty strong muscles too, you know.” He tried to persuade his son, flexing his bicep in front of him.

Atlas tilted his head, considering this for a moment before a mischievous grin spread across his face. “M’no cause he can do this!” He flung his wrist out, making a thwip! noise as he pretended to shoot webs across the room.

Harry’s grin widened as he watched his son in full superhero mode. “Alright, alright, you’ve got me there. I don’t have webs.”

“Duh!” The boy exclaimed again, leaping off the couch and landing with a soft thud on the carpet. He scrambled back up and raced over to Harry, his little hands grabbing at his dad’s arms as he looked up at him with pure adoration. “But y’cool too, dad.”

Harry laughed, his heart swelling at the sight of his son’s wide grin. “Oh, just cool am I? Not the coolest?”

Atlas giggled, shaking his head, jumping in place with his palms against his dad’s knees. “Nope, he–he still more better.”

YN had been listening from the kitchen as she prepared dinner, the scent of garlic and herbs filling the air. She leaned against the counter, smiling to herself as she heard the playful back-and-forth between her husband and their son. Harry always had such a way of connecting with Atlas—whether it was through silly games, bedtime stories, or, in this case, debates over superheroes.

She wiped her hands on a dish towel and wandered into the living room, catching sight of Atlas now climbing into Harry’s lap. “What’s all this about Spider-Man?” she asked, crossing her arms with a mock-stern expression.

The curly haired boy whipped his head around, his face lighting up when he saw his mom. “Mama! We watched’ed pider-man!”

YN raised her eyebrows, glancing at Harry, who shrugged with an amused smile. “I see,” she said, nodding seriously. “And where does daddy rank on the superhero scale?”

Without missing a beat, Atlas giggled and pointed at Harry. “M’he not a superhero—he’s just daddy!”

Harry feigned offense, gasping dramatically as he clutched his chest. “Just dad? C’mon, mate, I’m way cooler than that.”

Atlas giggled even harder, clearly enjoying the game. “Y’climb on buildings?”

Harry chuckled, wrapping his arms around Atlas and pulling him into a gentle bear hug. “Okay, I can’t climb buildings, but I bet Spider-Man can’t make pancakes as good as me.”

The boy paused, clearly torn by this new piece of information. He loved his dad’s pancakes, after all. But after a moment, he shook his head, his resolve firm. “Pider-man don’t eat pancakes.”

YN laughed as she sat down on the couch beside them, placing her hand on Harry’s knee. “He’s got you there, babe. You might have to accept second place.”

He sighed in mock defeat, his dimples deepening as he looked down at his boy, who was grinning from ear to ear. “Alright, fine. he can be the coolest for now. But when you get hungry in the morning, don’t come crying to me for pancakes.”

“He make them for me!” Atlas shot back with a laugh, clearly enjoying teasing his dad.

He laughed, pressing a kiss to the top of Atlas’s curly head. “You think Parker knows how to make chocolate chip pancakes like I do? I doubt it.”

YN watched them with a soft smile, her heart swelling with affection. She loved these moments—the way Harry could be completely goofy and playful with their son, never taking himself too seriously, and the way Atlas adored his dad with a fierceness that made her heart melt. It was a kind of magic, watching the two of them together.

She ran a finger through Harry’s curls, pressing a kiss into the locks as she breathed him in. “I’m plating dinner.” She mumbled as she ambled back into the kitchen.

Harry grunted as he stood up, pulling his son up in his arms along with him. “To the table, web-slinger.” He told Atlas, swinging him in his arms with small little swooshing sounds.

Their boy giggled as Harry swooped him through the air like an airplane, his little arms stretched out as if he were flying. They made their way to the kitchen, where YN was setting plates of steaming food on the table.

"Hungry?” YN teased as Harry plopped Atlas into his booster seat.

He nodded enthusiastically. "I want 'tatoes!"

Harry chuckled, grabbing a spoon to serve Atlas a helping of mashed potatoes. "Here you go, bubba. But no webs at the dinner table, okay?"

He giggled, pretending to shoot webs one more time before focusing on his plate. Harry and YN exchanged a fond smile, and for a moment, the room was filled with nothing but the sounds of dinner-plates clinking, forks scraping, and the occasional happy hum from Atlas as he devoured his meal.

After dinner, they settled into their nighttime routine-baths, pajamas, and a bedtime story.

Atlas, freshly bathed and smelling of lavender, jumped snuggled into his bed. It was navy blue with cartoonish planets littered about, but his favorite thing would have to be his rainbow zebra-print 1D blanket tucked around him. Harry sat on the edge of the bed, the familiar worn copy of Goodnight Moon in his hands.

"Goodnight room, goodnight moon," He read softly, his voice soothing. Atlas's eyelids grew heavy as he clutched his favorite stuffed animal, a plush giraffe.

YN stood in the doorway, watching her two boys with a soft smile. She loved these quiet moments, the way Harry's voice softened as he read to Atlas, the way their son's small body relaxed into sleep. "Goodnight stars, goodnight air, goodnight noises everywhere."

As he closed the book, he leaned down to press a gentle kiss to Atlas's forehead. "Goodnight, spidey."

Atlas's lips curled into a sleepy smile, his voice a soft mumble as he drifted off. "G’night, daddy."

With that, Harry quietly stood and tiptoed out of the room, YN slipping her hand into his as they left their little guy to dream of webs and skyscrapers.

The door closed behind them with a soft click before he scooped his wife over his shoulder quietly, trudging toward their bedroom and throwing her onto the bed through her soft protests.

YN laughed as she landed on the bed, playfully swatting at Harry as he crawled over her. "You're ridiculous," she whispered, though her smile said she didn't mind one bit.

Her husband grinned, his eyes twinkling in the dim light of their bedroom. "Well, if I'm not the coolest in the house, l've got to show off my other skills, don't I?"

She rolled her eyes, pulling him down for a kiss. "You're still my favorite," she murmured against his lips.

He smiled into the kiss, his hands resting on her hips as he whispered back, "Good, because I'm not giving up that spot anytime soon."

The house grew quiet, the hum of the evening settling in around them as they lay together.

Outside, the stars were beginning to twinkle in the night sky, and the soft rustle of leaves in the breeze was the only sound breaking the silence. Harry reached over to switch off the bedside lamp, wrapping his arms around YN as they snuggled into each other.

It was in those days that Harry realized—he didn't need to be the coolest superhero. Being Atlas's dad, YN's husband, and the maker of the best chocolate chip pancakes in the world was more than enough. It was everything.

[draconic-desire]

🔹 Oculus Infinitum 🔹

Yandere Satoru Gojo x Reader

He’s infinity; in comparison, you’re nothing. So of course using your cursed technique on him backfires.

Warnings: 18+, MINORS DNI! Yandere behavior, unhealthy relationship, implied kidnapping, forced imprisonment, nsfw, non-con/dub-con, afab!reader, slight mindbreak

Infinity is often interpreted as the largest numerical magnitude to exist. And while that fact may be true in theory, infinity is better defined as the endless division of infinitesimally smaller and smaller values. One can be separated into half, half to a quarter, and so on, until the space between fractions almost ceases to exist.

Almost.

Gojo is a lot like infinity. Blame it on his technique, sure, but you suspect it runs much deeper than that. His actions never reach an end; instead, each one sinks further and further into your skin, fangs so small you barely feel them until it’s too late and the venom irreversibly invades your veins. He’s chipped away at you, piece by little piece, until you are the opposite of infinity; you are nothing.

On a surface level, most would say you have it pretty good. You (are trapped in) live in a huge home, filled with opulent furniture and all the luxuries you could ever want. You’re (expected to) allowed to cook meals for the two of you, including your favorite dishes. You still have (basic rights) privileges, such as free roam of the house, your own selection of clothes, access to the television and your phone (minus the ability to call or text, of course), even outdoor time with Satoru’s supervision. Why would you ever need to leave?

You had escaped, once.

Calling it an escape would be generous. Nothing ever happens without Gojo’s knowledge, without Gojo’s permission. How foolish you had been, to think you could evade his Six Eyes. Despite weeks of planning, he’d dragged you back home within the hour.

The chains hadn’t been removed for an entire month after that, and their lingering presence on each post of Satoru’s bed serves as a constant reminder that they’ll never rust.

Currently, you’re in the (not your, nothing is ever truly yours anymore) house’s lofty kitchen now, preparing dinner for his return home from work. Glancing up at the clock, you see it’s nearly time for him to arrive. You click the stovetop on and place a pot of water over the open flame, watching the blue fire flicker. Your thoughts immediately go to Gojo’s eyes, twin infernos of endless blue. Those eyes never seem to close, never seem to be too far from your own. They have the ability to lock you in place and throw away the key forever.

Moments later, the sound of the door opening and closing, along with the click of multiple locks, echoes from the hallway. Long, casual footsteps alert you to his presence behind you. His velvet voice, so languid and carefree, fans your ear as he settles his hands on your hips. “There’s my girl. Already making dinner for me?” He places a surprisingly chaste kiss to the top of your head. “Missed ya, baby.”

You add rice and a bit of salt and stir the pot in front of you in silence. When did you stop fighting him on that? On losing your full name to simple titles like girl and baby? The old you would have gagged at those pet names. The old you that kicked and bit the hand of your captor like a rabid animal, always fighting for freedom.

His grip tightens when you fail to immediately respond, though you hear him force a light tone to his voice. “What, curse got your tongue?”

Tension immediately floods your muscles. Gojo is a vain man; your silence maims his huge ego, something the most powerful jujutsu sorcerer will not stand for. You must react. “No, Gojo. I was just lost in thought, is all.”

You worry your lip when the quiet drags on. “I-I’m sorry?”

Gojo barks out a laugh, but his smile is strained and all fangs. “Back to Gojo again, huh?”

A mistake you notice too late. The spoon falls from your grip as you turn your head slowly. He’s still wearing his blindfold, but you know those infinite abyssal eyes are currently boring into your soul, daring you to speak. “Ah, no! Satoru, I mean—”

“Shh, baby. I get it.” His hands move to your shoulders, which he begins to massage. “Is it because you’re mad at me for neglecting you?”

To an outsider it may sound like he’s teasing, but you know all too well the creep of annoyance laced into his deepened, husky tone. “Or are you just being a brat?”

Swallowing, you place a hand on his toned forearm in an attempt to calm him. You feel him practically melt into the touch. “Truly, ‘Toru, I’m fine.” Your honeyed tone makes you sick, but you’ve learned it can subtly manipulate your captor in the right setting, usually this domestic fantasy world of his. “You’ve been so busy with work, and my mind has just been wandering. Why don’t you go sit while I finish up with the food?”

He hums absentmindedly, fingers swirling patterns across your abdomen. “I have a better idea…” Hot breath caresses your ear, eliciting a shiver. “Let me make it up to you.”

A deft hand snakes its way down the back of your bare thigh, barely ghosting across your skin. You can feel him, solid as a rock, yet you know there will always be space between you. He can touch you, but you’re powerless to do the same.

Just like in everything else, you can’t hold a candle to him. Your cursed energy is inconsequential, a tiny spark against his infinitive well of power.

Talk of your innate cursed ability is a topic you actively choose to avoid. Your technique, when activated, allows you to briefly control the thoughts and consequent actions of a single individual—but only after you’ve kissed them. And it often backfires tremendously, with the kiss causing overwhelming feelings of obsession or insanity in the receiver. From more than enough uses you’ve learned to see it as more of a curse in and of itself, and one you prefer to keep hidden.

Especially from the man behind you. Gojo—Satoru, you correct yourself—has enough twisted love that you wouldn’t dare try to possess his thoughts. The mere idea makes your throat tighten with panic.

Satoru’s technique, on the other hand, causes every nerve ending along your skin to explode as his hand falls beneath your skirt and skate across your barely clothed core.

“Been thinking about this all day,” he groans. “Are you wet for me, baby?” Before you can respond, Satoru easily moves your panties aside and spears you with his middle and ring fingers.

The invasion makes you jolt instantly. An involuntary gasp leaves you as he presses deeper, his fingers sheathed to the knuckle. You hate how your walls immediately tighten around him, slick with your arousal. No, you don’t want this, but Gojo gives you no choice in the matter but to practically ride his hand as he lifts your skirt with his other hand to get a better view.

“I’ll never get tired of this.” His thumb passes over your clit, pulling yet another shameful moan from your lips. Your tense demeanor only causes your pussy to accidentally squeeze him tighter, spurring him on. You try to pull your thighs together, but Satoru wrenches them apart easily with his other hand. “Oh, no, none of that. This pussy is mine.”

You squirm, grasping for something to get you out of this mess. “Satoru, stop, the food will burn—”

“Forget it,” he commands, ripping your skirt off. “We’ll order takeout after.”

Your heart drops. “After…?”

“Aw, you thought I’d stop here?” His condescension floods your ears. “No, babe, I’m only just getting started with you.”

His persistence, like infinity, has no end.

Without warning, Satoru removes his fingers from your core and swings you over his shoulder, smacking your bare ass and wrenching a yelp from you. You blanch when you realize he’s carrying you to the bedroom.

“Wait, Satoru—!”

You are unceremoniously thrown onto the bed, said white-haired sorcerer towering above you. He pounces immediately, locking your limbs in place. Satoru must see the fear, the readiness to engage in fight or flight, across your face, because he brushes a tender hand across your cheek to wipe away a tear you didn’t realize had fallen.

“Don’t tell me you’re scared,” he teases, but it somehow sounds like a threat. His fingers, still coated with your arousal, hook around your thong and slide it down your legs. “You’re acting like this is our first time or somethin'.”

Oh, it was far from the first time that he had touched you or been inside of you. But something about today, about this time, sends fear skittering across your whole being. Perhaps it’s all the reminiscence lately, or the fact that your thoughts drifted to your innate technique for the first time in weeks. Panic sinks its claws into you.

Breath ragged, heart pounding, you grab his face in both hands and react without thinking; for the first time since he kidnapped you, you willingly kiss Satoru Gojo and activate your technique.

Satoru immediately reacts, deepening the kiss and pressing you more firmly into the mattress until you feel as if you’re nearly suffocating.

Release me, you project into his mind, threading a hand through his white locks and squeezing hard.

The world suddenly goes very, very still.

Satoru freezes. Slowly, painfully, he parts his lips from your own and straightens his arms against the mattress to hover above you once more. His breath comes out in jagged huffs. The only sound that remains is the unending tick, tick, tick of the clock on the wall, bringing you closer to your doom.

For a second, you almost believe your technique worked.

That is, until he quickly sheds his blindfold, and you are meet with those stunning, terrifying, brilliant, paralyzing blues. He whispers your name with a foreign stillness that chills your bones to ice. “Do you…have a cursed technique?”

What an idiot you are to have thought you could sneak past Satoru Gojo’s barriers and Six Eyes. You can’t touch his physical form; why would his mind be any different?

It takes all of your willpower to withhold the panicked, hysterical laugh threatening to escape you. “Look, I can explain—”

Satoru leans back on his knees, one hand carding through his hair as he looks up to the ceiling. “God, babe, I knew you could see curses and harbored cursed energy, but here you go surprising me!” He laughs, a gleeful chuckle that has you reeling.

“You’re not…mad?” you dare to ask, inching your knees towards your chest. Maybe your technique failed, but you can still buy some time and get into a safer position.

Satoru gazes down at you, head tilted and a full grin on his lips. “Mad? Baby, why would I be upset when for the first time in our relationship, you were the one seducing me?”

Oh, no. No no no no no.

Grabbing your ankle, he drags you back to a supine position, your pussy on full display for him. He licks his lips at the sight. “Plus, you trying to get inside my head was cute and all. Weak, but you gave it your best!” He laughs again, and you realize that he never took you seriously, not even for a second.

The thought should enrage you—it would have infuriated the old you—but all you can manage now is a low whine as his hands go for his belt.

Satoru pulls himself free, his already hard cock pulsing in anticipation. Precum beads at the tip as he lines himself up with your entrance. “What was it you asked me for? Release, right?”

Your eyes bulge at his implication. “Wait, Satoru, I didn’t mean—!”

You barely have time to react as he buries himself in you completely. A choked sob bubbles up your throat as you breath through the stretch of him.

Satoru moans in ecstasy as he begins a steady pace, thrusting mercilessly into that squishy spot deep inside your core that has you seeing stars.

“Kiss me again.” It’s light and breathless, but it’s an order, not a request. Fear makes you comply immediately, though your kiss is a hesitant, timid thing compared to your earlier attempt to sway him.

He’s having none of that. No, Satoru had a taste of your affection, and now he’ll tolerate nothing less than your full reciprocation. If only you could truly peer into his mind and see that no amount of your cursed energy would change him; your being was already permanently imprinted on his brain. You were his perfect doll, held in the palm of his hand.

Nails rake down his back as you arch against the mattress. Every time he thrusts, he grinds against your clit, and you feel yourself chasing your finish. You hate this, you want it to stop, but you can’t help—

“Please, Satoru,” you plead without thinking, meeting his limitless eyes. You feel yourself drowning in them, a blue sky that never ceases.

For a split second, his rhythm hesitates. “…Say that again,” he whispers, almost reverently. “Beg for me.”

You’re not quite sure what you’re asking for. “P-please, I can’t take it anymore, please let me—!”

“Choose your next word carefully,” he warns, voice shifting to a low growl as his hand moves to your throat, adding ever so much pressure.

Tears streak your vision. The embarrassment of your technique failing and the lewd position he has you in all crash down upon you, and another piece of you breaks. “Please let me cum,” you concede.

To your dismay, his pace slows, and you cry out in protest as your orgasm fades. “I just need you to do one more thing for me, baby.” He leans into your neck, nipping and sucking at all your sensitive spots, torturing you even further. “Tell me you love me.”

Alarms should be blazing through your head, but the fog of your arousal clouds your judgement as you seek your climax.

That piece of your soul he took shatters into a million shards as you whisper, “I love you, Satoru.”

The two of you shatter simultaneously. You register all too late the warmth invading your core as Satoru pumps his cum deep inside you.

He’s never come in you before.

Your name is murmured over and over like a prayer against your neck—or maybe it’s a curse. You jolt in overstimulation when he pulls out and bends down to place a kiss against your puffy folds. “So good for me, baby. This perfect pussy belongs to me.”

He kisses you a final time, long and slow. When he pulls away, a languid smile sweeps across his features. “You’re all mine, (Y/n). Even your mind.”

With the use of your innate technique, you’ve dug your own grave for good. Satoru will never let you go now.

After all, infinity is indivisible.

[vegapvnked]

No Time To Die

One Piece!Various x F!Gojo!Reader - 3,300 words

Synopsis: In a world dominated by warring marines and pirates, a young girl, you, is born with extraordinary abilities causing the power balance of the world to tip and for unlikely friends to be made.

I have this book posted on another site and much longer, this is only the first chapter. Book is linked at the end. Please don’t steal!! ^^

From the moment you were born, everything was handed to you on a silver platter.  Your food, your homework, even your powers.  Yes, it’s no secret that you were born with immense strength.  Constantly being showered in praise about how you were the honored one.

The only known bearer of Six eyed Haki, also known as Limitless Haki.  On the same par, if not above Divine Haki.  Limitless Haki allows the user to manipulate and distort space, along with various other abilities including ‘infinity’.  The ability to slow down anything entering a certain radius of you.  Essentially stopping anything from touching you at all.

You we’re told you were untouchable.  The Honored One.  And you hadn’t even reached your teen years yet.  You truly were a miracle to the world..

Maybe this would be a dream come true for some, not for you.  You were isolated, unpunished, and miserable.  Every day was honing your powers, studying, and manners.  Though, they couldn’t exactly stop you when you wanted to go out.  The first time you ever ventured outside the walls of your mansion was when you were ten years old. 

“[Name]-Sama!” One of your attendants called as you walked through the gates. “You must’ve leave, I beg of you! You-“

A sharp glare from you was all it took to make her shut up. Everyone in the estate respected you.. or would fear be a better word?  After all, such a powerful ability was currently in the hands of a child.  A child who hated her life.

“Try and stop me.” You challenged, your gaze unwavering.  A chill ran down her spine, she felt as if you could see into the very depths of her soul.  In her mind, anyone could crumble under your glare.

She reluctantly backed off.  You knew she would.  No one in this house ever challenged you.  That’s what made it so boring, everything was just given to you.  You’d never felt a sense of accomplishment because your grades were what was expected and you never truly earned anything on your own.  You were sick of it.

”..Please be back soon, [Name]-Sama.. your studies are important-“ 

“I’ll be back tonight.  Don’t come looking for me.”

You turned around and continued walking out of the gate, completely disregarding her words.  No one in town seemed to even know who you were.. people kept walking on by, going about their daily lives.  Children your age were playing around, chasing each other and laughing.  Small shops were set up on the street selling various items from food to souvenirs to clothes. 

To you, everything was dark.  All you picked up on was everyone’s Haki signature, no matter how small.  Everyone had Haki, just very little and unable to use.  Courtesy of the Six eyed Haki.

You turned away from the sight of happy families going about their lives.  Children being free to be children with only the weight of what candy they would like resting on their shoulders.  Something deep within you yearned for that same life.  The life of a normal kid.  But, life is far from fair.  Dealing you a joker card that could be seen as a blessing or a curse depending on who you asked.

You stood at the edge of town, looking down at the harbor below.  Merchant ships were docked at every point they could be with men loading and offloading cargo.  

The sounds of idle chatter filled your ears and the smell of salt invaded your nose.  The cool breeze blowing off the ocean pushed your hair around.  It felt freeing.  You looked out over the ocean, as far as your eyes could see.  For once, it wasn’t all dark.  The view actually was bright and lively, refreshing.

“[Name]-Sama.  Please pay attention.” Your mentor gently chided.  Practically begging for you to give his lesson an ounce of your care.

”This is boring.” You grumbled with a small scowl.  Despite how you felt about everything, you knew you had to do it.  It was your responsibility.  The world was thrown out of balance the moment you were born and it was up to you to keep it in check..

So, begrudgingly, you stayed put and payed attention to the lesson.  Everything he taught was about how Haki worked.  Obviously, he couldn’t teach about your own Haki since only you possessed it.  There were no textbooks to aid him in teaching about your Haki.  He could only do his best in teaching the basics and hope you were clever enough to figure the rest out on your own.. much to his dismay.

-

“That’s excellent, [Name]-Sama!” Another mentor of yours clapped as you displayed your abilities in physical training.

”No one could possibly stand up to you!” She continued clapping and drowning you in compliments.  

You stared her down.  Your six eyes in full effect as you analyzed the small changes in her.  The temperature in her face changed slightly, signaling a changing emotion.  You Tsk’d.  She hated you.  That little change was detest.  Scorn.  Still, you didn’t say a word, going back to your training.  

What she personally thought of you didn’t matter.

-

“[Name]-Sama.. please, you must eat dinner.” An attendant urged you.  You simply scowled at the unappetizing meal on your plate.

It was no secret you were a very picky eater, all the chefs and attendants knew this.  Despite that, they continued trying to convince you to eat things you didn’t find appetizing.  Sure, this may not be a big deal in the big picture, but what 10 year old wants to eat ratatouille and caviar?

You pushed the plate away from you and stood up, leaving.  No one tried to stop you.  No one said a word as you exited the room with a displeased look plastered on your face..

You took a deep breath of the salty air.  Seagulls called from above as they flew around the ships, stealing scraps of food from unsuspecting workers.

You made your way down the stairs that led to the harbor.  Each step was a slightly different height, it didn’t surprise you much since it was carved in stone.  You reached the docks and looked up in awe of the massive ships.  The view from your previous position didn’t do Justice to just how massive the boats were.  Why is this the first time you’ve ever seen this..?

You looked down as you sensed something approach.  A black cat.  It walked between your legs and rubbed on you with a small purr.  You kneeled down and pet it, causing the small animal to purr louder.  After a minute of this, the cat wandered off, it just came and went.  How weird, were all cats like that?

You watched as the cat walked up a ramp into one of the ships and disappeared.  Having nothing else you wanted to check out, you followed the cat up the ramp and into the ship.  It wandered up to the main deck and jumped up on some cargo, you followed in its footsteps.  It felt weird for you to not have to be proper.. but good at the same time.

It meowed and jumped up on top of the cabin, you jumped up after it.  It was a game! You had to catch the cat.  Eventually, the cat took off running, prompting you to do the same.  It jumped off the railing and back into the dock and continuing to run.  You followed close behind, jumping off the railing and landing on the dock before giving chase to the small feline.

The cat jumped onto a box a man was carrying, causing him to lose balance for a moment.  Then you also used the box as a stepping stone and the poor man fell over.  

“Stupid kids—“ He growled as he hit the ground, glaring at your back.

The cat was running all the way to the end of the harbor with no intentions of stopping.  Believe it or not, this was your first experience with a cat.  Within your family’s estate there were no pets.  The most you saw were birds and squirrels.  You silently chased after the cat as it reached the end of the dock.  It stopped and rubbed on your legs again as if it was fully aware you weren’t going to hurt it.

It walks between your legs and hops onto a small boat.. what an odd design.  The actual hull, if you could call it that, resembled a black coffin.  It had a single mast that looked like a massive sword with black sails attached.  

The cat sat down on the chair right in the center of the boat and curled up.  Something about this ship said not to touch it.  So obviously, you touched it.  Hopping onto the boat to pet the cat as it slept.

Your attention was drawn when you picked up on the strongest Haki you’d ever felt coming up behind you.  Whoever was approaching made it very clear that they were on another level.  Sure, you had Haki that no one else in the world had but you were still just a kid.  Anyone with more experience would obviously have an advantage and at the moment… the gap in skill was obvious, even to you who was raised being told she was the strongest.

You whipped your head around to pinpoint where the Haki was coming from and zoned in on a man.  Sharp golden eyes sharp as a blade, a long black coat, and a large sword on his back much like the mast on this boat.  What were the chances that this was his boat?  The closer he got the more that probably solidified.  Who was this man?

He stopped on the dock next to his boat, looking from you to the cat you were petting.  You felt.. small.. under his gaze.  Like you weren’t anything more than an insect to him.  That wasn’t something you were used to.  For a moment that seemed to drag on for ages he didn’t say a word.

”Child, what are you doing?” He broke the silence with a simple question.

”..Petting a cat.” You pushed down your nervousness to answer as you stepped out of the boat.  Shoving your hands in your pockets.

“Shouldn’t you be at home?” 

“I left for the day.” You kicked a rock.  It wasn’t a lie, and you didn’t wanna say you ran away because you would be going back.

”And you decided to follow a cat on a strangers boat?” He asked with an ever so slight undertone of judgment.  

You nodded.  Your pride prevented you from apologizing to him for jumping on his boat just to pet a cat.  You never tore your eyes away from his as you spoke, trying to look unfazed by his presence.  You had yet to learn who he was, so..

”Who are you?” 

He took a moment to answer.  Looking down at this odd little girl who looked like she held the universe in her eyes. An odd sense of kinship with the small little being in front of him arose.  Why? He doesn’t quite know himself.  But he knows you’re not an ordinary child.

”Dracule Mihawk.” He paused.  “You?”

”[Name] [Lastname].” 

[Lastname].. he’s heard that somewhere before.  Between the hushed whispers of marines and fearful talk among pirates.  The name most assumed was nothing more than an old wives tale made up to scare people.  He couldn’t resist asking.

”Does the phrase ‘Six Eyes’ mean anything to you?” 

Your brow creased by a hair and that was all he needed.  The rumors were true, the legend and the mystery.  The [Lastname] clan wasn’t just some old tale from the grand line, they were real.  And it seemed you were a daughter of it.  Fascinating.

“Why do you want to know?” You asked a bit defensively.  Admittedly, you had little to no experience with people outside of those within your estate, so a situation like this was foreign territory for you.  

“Your surname has quite a reputation.” He stated as he sat down on the chair the cat formerly sat on.  It had ran off when he arrived.  “I’m actually quite curious about the six eyes, would you care to indulge me?”

You found yourself wanting to talk about your ability.  Wanting for some form of validation from him.  Why though?? You get plenty of praise from the attendants and mentors at home.  The reason why was because he was strong.  You could tell from the moment you sensed him that he was on a whole other level.  No one back home was strong in your eyes.  This craving to be acknowledged by someone stronger than yourself grew and grew, causing you to eventually take a seat in front of him and start telling of what the six eyes are.

He listened intently as you explained how it worked.  So much power at such a young age.  No wonder your family was legendary.  His face remained stoic throughout your explanation with subtle changes every now and then when you told him something particularly interesting.

“And that’s how the six eyes work.” You finish, excitedly waiting for what his reply would be.  Was he impressed? Did he think you were cool? Why were you all of a sudden so desperate… maybe the lack of parental figures played a part..

“Enthralling.  You can do so much with Haki at such a young age.  How old are you, child?”

”Ten!” You answered immediately.

Ten years old.. was he even near that level at that age? He couldn’t be sure.  What he did know was that the child in front of him was extraordinary.

”And how have you learned to use these abilities?” He assumed you must have a very skilled teacher in order to develop this much.  

“I have a few mentors.  They just taught me the basics, that’s all.” 

That genuinely shocked the man, though he didn’t show it.  This much power and only having been taught the basics? You were truly a gifted child.  Something in him was inclined to… help..? To train you.  To make you even better than you were.  An out of place emotion for the older man.

So, he took you under his wing.

Over the next few days he stayed docked on your island to train you.  Your attendants noticed they you often disappeared before sunrise and came back after sunset.  Your new training was much more exhilarating.  More on your level! You’d already long since mastered the basics and to finally be trained by someone you viewed as strong was the best training you could ask for.  

Just in those few short days, your power increased.  You could keep infinity up for longer, your stamina increased, and your power output more than doubled.  All because your mentor had real experience and talent.  What a difference that made.  He’d even gotten you a pair of darkened sunglasses when you complained about your eyes making your head hurt.  Admittedly, it helped.

You’d learned that Mihawk was something called a Warlord, meaning he had to leave soon.  He never stayed in one place for too long.  Your makeshift training camp was coming to a close and strangely, you didn’t want it to end.  You’d finally met someone you could actually learn from.  On your end, the farewell was sad.  It was sad on his end too only he kept his stoic facade up.

He patted your head as he boarded his ship during the early morning hours.

”Keep growing, [Name].  I’ve no doubts you’ll become even stronger.  Impress me.” He encouraged as he pushed his boat away from the dock.  With your pride on the line, you tried so hard not to be emotional.  To be strong like he taught you to be.  It’s strange how affected you’d become after only a few days.  Were your daddy issues that bad??

After a few minutes of watching his ship get smaller and smaller, you broke.

”Please, stay safe!” You yelled at the top of your lungs.

He was too far for even your six eyes to see his face clearly, but he smiled.  You’d grown on him quite a lot over the past through days, and he silently prayed for your safety as well.

His ship got smaller and smaller, until you could no longer sense his presence on the horizon.  You stood there for a long while after he departed, staring at where the sky meets the sea.  That became your motivation.  To grow even stronger and surpass him, then to meet again and show him how much you’ve grown.

You couldn’t wait for that day to come.  For the day you could finally say with certainty that you’re the strongest.

Years past, you trained harder and harder.  Your mentors finally let you venture beyond the island, namely, to the marine headquarters.  Such a powerful woman should obviously be working on the side of good!

The higher ups in the marines always had their eyes on the [Lastname] clan.  Only the children directly descended from the main branch of it could inherit the Six Eyed Haki.  They wanted to make you an admiral.. after proper navy training of course.  Sengoku himself expressed his desire to be on good terms with you.  You were treated as an adult despite only being 17.  

Unbeknownst to them, you had no desire to become an admiral or a marine at all.  Mihawk was never an admiral.  Speaking of, you obviously asked about the man when you met Sengoku.  Along with the little lie that you were just curious about the strongest swordsman in the world and nothing more.  You still had your sunglasses gifted by Mihawk.  An item precious to you now, serving as a reminder of your goal.

“I do hope you’ll give due consideration to our proposal.” Sengoku remarked as you walked side by side down the halls of the Marineford building.  

“I will.  After all, with just the admirals you have now it must be hard keeping pirates in check.” You smirked.  Oh, and did you mention you’d gotten a heck of a lot more cocky? 

Sengoku had to bite back a scowl.  Cocky brat.

“You can.. put it that way.” He gritted.  With great power comes great arrogance.  And you were a perfect example of that fact.

”I hope you enjoyed your time here.  As I said, please consider our offer carefully.” He offered his hand to shake to which you begrudgingly took.

”Yeah, sure.” You promptly pulled your hand away and shoved it into your pocket.  “Cya.”

Exiting the building and heading down to the ship your clan owned with a small scowl on your face, you thought about how you would even go about your plan.  You couldn’t exactly continue to get stronger while staying on your island all by your lonesome.. and your attendants but they weren’t important.

You walked up the ramp and stepped onto the main deck of the ship, turning and heading to your cabin.  Ignoring the various workers looking your way as you shut the door.

The ship rocked slowly as it departed from the dock and back out into The Tarai Current.  You were temporarily granted special permission to use this current despite not being a navy vessel due to your, Ahem, power status.  And because there was really no other way to reach Marineford.

You plopped down on your couch next to the window and looked out it absentmindedly.  Your mind going back to formulating a plan on how to get stronger.  You didn’t want to join the marines, that was too boring.  And you didn’t exactly care for the thought of being ordered around all the time..

As your eyes drifted across the horizon you spotted something that made a light go off in your head.  A pirate ship.  You smirked.  What about a pirate? What was his name? Gold Roger? The stories made him out to be crazy strong.  And all the Warlords were pirates hired by the government.  And so, your plan was made.  You were gonna be a pirate.

—

Link to Story

[helaintoloki]

Relenting

pairing: sparrow!ben x reader

warnings: angst, mentions of death, sparrow!ben is an asshole as usual, some fluff if you squint

notes: haven’t posted on this blog in forever but the new teaser brought me back from the dead so here’s this

summary: the world is ending and ben thinks it’s time to enjoy what’s left of it

You swirl the glass of champagne in your hand and watch as the alcohol begins to whirl around the cup. There’s a slight breeze in the air, but it’s warm and strangely comforting despite the current circumstances. The music from inside faintly reaches your ears out on the balcony, and though you feel slightly guilty for missing out on such a momentous occasion for Luther and Sloane, you can’t bring yourself to go back inside. What’s the point? Your time on this earth is limited, dwindling with each second that passes, so why bother trying to act like it isn’t.

An unwelcome presence joins your sulking figure outside, and you don’t even bother to spare him a passing glance. You think you hate him, or at least you want to hate him, but it’s hard to despise the man who shares the face of your long lost love. Blame it on nostalgia or pathetic longing, but there’s still some small part of you that believes he could be just like the boy you knew and loved in your youth, even if he hasn’t shown it at all in the time you’ve gotten to know him.

Finally acknowledging his presence, you take a swig of your champagne before retorting, “Don’t you have to go be an asshole somewhere else?”

“You’re hilarious,” he replies in a deadpan tone, and you don’t have to look at him to see that he’s rolling his eyes in annoyance. You like how easily you get under his skin, and his sarcastic remark prompts the smallest quirk of your lips.

“Yeah?” You reiterate with a small shrug, eager to push his buttons in any way you can. “My Ben used to think so too.”

“Would you shut up about ‘your’ Ben, already? It’s pathetic,” He snaps in irritation, obviously set off by your remarks. “All you do is whine and complain about what a jerk I am instead of realizing I could help you out if you’d just help me.”

“By pretending to be your dead girlfriend? No thanks,” you scoff with a wry laugh before downing the rest of your drink. It burns your throat, but the discomfort is almost soothing in a way. It’s a type of pain you can control and inflict upon yourself out of your own volition. You haven’t been in control of anything since becoming wrapped up in all this apocalypse time travel nonsense, and you grapple for any semblance of it whenever possible.

“It’s not pretending if you technically are her,” the Sparrow insists adamantly, faltering for a moment as he adds under his breath, “albeit a more whiney and uptight version of her.”

He immediately ducks when you chuck your glass in his direction, narrowly missing his head in the process. You wish you had Diego’s precision so you could hit the desired target of his face, but the look of bewilderment on his features is good enough for now. You wordlessly turn to head back inside and rejoin the wedding festivities, because forcing yourself to act like attending wedding at the end of the world is normal is much better than spending another second out here with him, but his firm grip on your wrist halts your movements. If you really wanted to you could break free from his hold, you’re a better fighter than he is and you could easily use your abilities to overpower him, but you make no attempt to do so. The touch is familiar, comforting despite how hard you try to deny it, and you’d like to savor it even if it’s not right.

“The world is ending, and there’s no going back,” he reminds you, the gentleness of his voice almost scaring you. It’s a jarring contrast from the usual sharpness that he speaks to you with, and you’re not sure if it disgusts or comforts you. He sounds like your Ben now, and the realization prompts your breath to hitch in your throat.

“What do you want from me?” You demand with a lack of conviction, your previous confidence dwindling as you morph back into that same scared little girl who once thought she could never survive without the boy she loved.

“I want to spend whatever time I have left on this shit hole with my y/n, even though I know it’s not really her,” the Sparrow relents in defeat as he comes to terms with his fate. “Don’t you want to spend one last night with Ben?”

You remain silent, your lips held together in a firm line and your brows creased in thought as you digest his words. This man is not yours, not even close, but he belonged to another version of you in this timeline, a version that is currently buried six feet underground. This entire time you’ve done your best to fight the urge to give in to him, to let yourself play pretend with the Sparrow and act as if tragedy had never struck the Umbrella Academy. With the world coming to an end, did it really matter now if you finally relented to his pleas? Didn’t you deserve to be happy, too?

Taking your silence as rejection, Ben slowly begins to release his hold on you. However, he’s taken by surprise when you immediately throw yourself into his embrace and pull his face towards you for a kiss. He doesn’t notice the tears that streak down your cheeks or the way your hands tremble as you cup his face; he’s too busy savoring the taste of something that had been taken from his years ago.

As he wraps his arms tighter around your waist, he determines that this time around, he’s not letting go.

[shockercoco]

Like a Snake

Feyd Rautha x reader

Warnings - 18+, oral sex (fem receiving), fingering, blood

Word count - 466

a/n - this is something I quickly wrote based on a post I made the other day about expecting Feyd to cut his tongue during his opening scene. Also I haven't written smut in over a month and I feel like I lost my ability to do so bc I struggled lol. I hope you enjoy :)

The other day Feyd had the bright idea to basically slice his tongue in half during a training match. One of his foot soldiers had handed him the wrong blade, causing Feyd to lose his temper. Earlier that day, Feyd had asked you to attend for support – not like he needs it – and you agreed because you had nothing better to do. However if you would’ve known you would be watching blood spill out his mouth you would’ve said no, you were never good with blood.

When you ran up to him, mainly to stop him from killing someone, he had said, “it was either this or his throat.”

Since Feyd wasn’t allowed to talk with his self-inflicted injury, it was kind of freeing not having to listen to his yelling and complaining. You’re sure the staff around the palace were pleased as well. Unfortunately, his injury didn’t prevent him from scowling at people any chance he had. 

Feyd was in a bad mood for the rest of the week, of course because he wasn’t able to talk to you, but also for the selfish reason that he couldn’t eat you out. He wanted to make up for lost time as soon as he was healed, telling you he wanted to try out his new tongue,

When he finally managed to get you on your back, he made a show of showing off his tongue before diving between your legs. You thought that it wouldn’t make you feel any different than any other time he went down on you, but you couldn’t have been more wrong.

He started off with sucking your clit, and you instantly let out a moan when you felt the two sides of his tongue sliding against you. Still, that was nothing compared to when he started to quickly flick his tongue against you like a snake causing your mouth to fall open as you stared up at the ceiling.

When you started squirming around too much Feyd wrapped his arms around your thighs and pressed his hands down on your stomach to keep you in place, but that didn’t stop you from trying. He pushed two fingers inside of you and began to swiftly move in and out when you felt you were drenched enough. The sound of the wet squelching coming from between your legs and the feeling of  his split tongue against your sensitive cunt was more than enough to make you cum.

Feyd let out a laugh when he looked up to see your hands gripping the blankets beneath you as your walls contracted against his fingers.

“That was kind of quick wasn’t it?” he asked with a tilt of his head as your body began to relax. He then smirked and said, “how about we try again?”

[ladyviserra]

Feather Touch

Pairing: Aegon II Targaryen x Female!Reader Summary: As another stressful day passes, Queen Alicent asks for your company once again. She has become really fond of your presence since she got to know you. It should be like every other day you pour her wine and listen to her troubles, expect it isn't. Warnings: swearing, smut A/n: This sort of spouned into my brain, time ago...figured I might as well post it...I am not really back to writing more, too much work going on for now, but I may post some stuff I have already written.

126 AC

" King's Landing is a pretty crowded place. It's easy to get overwhelmed. " You tried to mirror the Queen's troubles, who currently held her forehead as if the crown was making an issue in having her head straight. Her head had nothing on it except her wavy hair.

" My dear, I can most definitely feel it. There are too many people in one place. " Pouring the rich wine into her goblet gave her the ability to sigh gently. " But one shall survive. " A polite sound locked her lips with the goblet, relaxing her. You supposed that the old sickly king was giving her a rough time as nothing else could have bothered her. Just the accessories she was wearing had more value than half your father's castle, or however a noble one would call such a small place. Not to speak of other privileges she had, a lady, of House Hightower, a Queen.

She was more relaxed than anyone you have ever seen in the city, even in this exhausted state. As someone from a minor house, you could only wonder what tormented her, asking isn't the best way to go about things with her Grace, you would know this from before.

" A visit to Oldtown would do you good, my Grace. " Alicent took little time to respond, tossing away the suggestion.

" And leave the Realm to whom? There aren't many capable hands around here. " As she were to say something, she stopped, looking to you and back to her goblet. " My sons, they need more time to...overcome their struggles. " You could sense she wasn't as proud of them as she were often to beam over them. Finally, you suspected, the final reason for your invite was being revealed.

" Aegon is a fine prince. He needs little to be the best. " If she were saying this on trial, all the witnesses would say miles away from believing her. Her face was facing the view of the window, orange colors, and the setting sun. Thoughts were piling in her head; you could sense it, but so could she.

" Oh, but he is young. Can't imagine a better path being taken then the one he is on. " She laughed unnaturally, taking a couple of swallows. You sat besides her, nodding lightly to appease her.

" He for sure, my Grace. " She collected your words slightly, lingering on your tone moments after you said the sentence. But she sensed nothing that would anger her and gladly took another sip, this time moving her lips together to savour the taste a bit longer.

" Maginficent, isn't it? Dornish red never fails to rid me of trouble. Be sweet to try some yourself, I needn't command you no more. " She held a look on another goblet for you to take as your own. Of course, you waited for her, so to say order, finding it more ladylike to be patient than rash. " We have been wine mates for moons; you ought to learn this at once. " You smiled at her fake stricktness, happily raising the goblet. " This sip will make sure I take this lesson seriously. "

Both of you took sips as the door flew open. As you pulled your goblet lower, a young prince was straight into your view. Quickly, all the calmness Alicent felt perished at the sight of him, but she looked less annoyed than one would be at a scary it gave her from being unprepared.

" Must I always be met with weeps and tears in my own home, Mother? " Aegon, Viserys's oldest son, looked to Alicent, not acknowledging anything but her.

" Have you caused the said reactions? " Alicent remained sat and unbothered, possibly taking this as another situation where Aegon made a maid cry for shaming her after not cleaning after him properly, which you heard from the woman yourself.

" Every single noise causes them to sing their sorrows. Helaena isn't of help. Sooner she will join and make them a quoir. " You figured the weeping ones were Aegon and Helaena's little ones, Jaehaerys and Jaehaera. The queen recognised this, too. Suddenly, a cloud of worry bloomed on her face, and she swiftly stood.

" I will oversee them. " She speared you no glance, as she passed by Aegon and off to Helaena's chambers. The prince still seemed frustrated until noticing the red liquid. He came closer to you and stared at it.

" What is it? "

" Dornish Red. " He blinked in slightly disapproval but took little to hesitate in taking your goblet and drinking it whole. " It isn't Arbor red, but it will do. " He half laid on the couch nearby, needing a moment before holding the object up for you to pour into.

When you reached him, he was looking upward, his hair slightly messy but more in place than you imagined it would be. His charming look wasn't as prominent as you heard Targaryen to be. Did this make him ugly? Truth be told, not in the slightest. He soon looked at you, head to toe.

" Are you a cupbearer, maid, something other you commoners do... " A tiny gasp came out of your mouth at the question... " I might not be of a great house, but of a noble one I am. " Aegon raised his eyebrows quickly. " Which one? "

" House Cargyll. " Your words did nothing to change the strange look on his face. He took a couple of grapes and shrugged his shoulders. " Never heard of it. "

" You don't know your Kingsguard? My uncles, Arryk and Erryk, both serve you. " He looked ever more confused as you said this. Sighing, you frowned. " The twins, they look the same. "

Finally, it clicked in his brain. " Aha, well, those two are taken hostages by their duty... " He drank some more. " ...by my father's firstborn. " The prince spat as he said so, clearly collecting unkind words. After cursing in his head, he pointed an already empty goblet, which you this time poured only half full.

Aegon noticed your action and smirked. " Now, now, don't be angry with me, my lady. Just because I didn't know your house. " He lingered his hand on the spot next to him. You saw he wasn't in his best state, figuring you would have to keep him company for only a little longer before he became too drunk to converse. As you found space next to him, he turned more to you, adjusting a more comfortable position.

" Tell me of this house? Where is it? "

"It's close; my father is a vassal to Lord Rosby. " The man hummed, surprised. " Well, then it's funny. I haven't been aware of it as of yet. " He looked you over, planning something, nothing of your knowledge.

" What's on your sigil? " Naturally, you told him it was a golden goose, and the prince started hysterically laughing. His hand patted his knee in the moment as he took his time, mocking the animal you named.

" Frightening, isn't it? " You angrly stood up, completely over the polite act.

Aegon broke off his behaviour, slowly, still smiling from it. " Oh, don't do this. " He widely grinned. " Important animals, these birds. Keeping the eggs warm, yes, yes. " His words properly caused you to lash out.

" Wouldn't mind warming your eggs into unfruitfulness? " You threatened with the sharpest object near you, a hairpin. This made it easier for him to calm down, not yet serious, but put him on guard. " You threaten your prince? " He asked as if he was the third person in the room, standing to portray authority.

" I threaten the one who insults me. " Aegon scoffted mindlessly. He took the hand which held the objects and gripped. He pulled it closer to himself then further, and so a couple of times, confusing you. " You look at me but do nothing. Just like a goose would. " Immediately, your hand attempted to stick into his neck. The prince, without a struggled, twisted your hand behind your back. With a lost balance, you fell face first onto the couch, Aegon followed on top of you, your hand lost the object which fell on the ground, trapped unintentionally by the man's foot.

" You needn't that hairpin, only a little pin yourself. " His mumbles were felt by your ear, warming them with his full breath. It still smelled of the wine. " Move. "

" You order no one. " The prince let go of your hand but did nothing to move of you, being almost content like this. You figure you made a mistake and can thank all the seven for choosing to spare you by not having him wrathful. However, you had no idea what would happen next, or how you would get yourself out of this trap.

But you believed one plan would work. It was a take or lose, and since you had no wish for the other, you took the matter into your own hands. Possibly even for your own desire as well.

Aegon believed you dropped the weapon that was going to be used on him, but the real one was attached to you from birth and had a twin. Both of them started rubbing his inner thighs as you bit your lower lip and dragged it with your teeth, making a small sound. Aegon first took in the action with your lips and then the work your hands were starting caught up to him.

But it didn't bother him. You knew it wouldn't, more so it excited him. " You wanted this all along... " His forehead leaned on the back of your head, breathing into your hair with a harsh exhile.

" Blame me, not, my prince. You would ask me to sin if I were not to lust after a Targaryen prince. " It made him chuckle, his hands wrapped around your hips as he pulled them towards himself. He was feeling the curves, as if testing them, with his eyes and lips close, daydreaming.

One hand extended to your head where it pulled your hair to the side. The nape was exposed to his mouth, which pecked the skin smoothly. Your hand set itself below his stomach, dancing on the edge of his pants.

" Aren't you sweet... want to help be disrobe... " He grabbed your neck, pulling your face so you could look each other in the eyes. You were slightly turned to him, but now your one side rested on the couch, and the other side was holding Aegon.

" I must honour your devoution to holiness, my lady, for you will do more than just lust. " The prince kissed your lips, not waiting even a second to let in his tongue. He grunted momentarily, steadying your figure. You could quickly feel yourself needing to have this take place. To bed the prince, or better say, have him bed you. His mouth carved purple spots on your neck as you whinced delightfully.

Your hands forced his clothes off him, as he gave no objection, very pleased with how the tables had turned. You exclaimed harsh whine as he bit into your breast before your gown was removed. He was hungry for a woman. For you.

Your skin turned warm under his touch, breathing on your own command as things were getting quickly heated. Both of your bodies were naked, and Aegon eagerly placed himself behind you. He took strands of your hair in his hand, lowering your head on the long couch and pressing himself over you.

" Ready to experience what pinning actually is? " Aegon had barely any patience as he asked, for which you swiftly agreed. Without further warning, you feel the connection between the two of you. A powerful moan erupted out of you, prompting Aegon to quicken the second thrust. He held your hair, but didn't pull, only having it be there for his own balance, as the other one satisfying you from the front.

The prince didn't leave you to be the only loud person in the room, be grunted and groaned, occasionally slapping your ass for additional enjoyment.

" Aegon! " You stopped holding a scream, evoking it with his name, which only got him harder. " Oh, you...fucking hells! " The man then took his time in settling into you, feeling the folds of your inside. " Pretty tight, should have figured by your boldness... " You felt every move he made, back, forward, in, out...it overwhelmed you, possibly from the warmth you felt. By now, your body was hot, hotter than ever before, raging in heat, sweat stuck to your flesh as Aegon continued to push himself inside you, stopping only to adjust himself further.

For as much as he put effort, he caught on the feeling, which made him slow down. " Mhm...be still. " He held you at place as you understood he decided to let you have a little bit of him left, as a marking.

The moment he finished, his hand lazily touched your spine before he pulled out and started dressing.

" You proved to be more interesting than any of my mother's ladies, surprisingly. " You took your gown into your hands, holding it, before he shook his head. " Let me just linger on the view some more. " You rolled your eyes as a pink light glinted on your cheek.

Aegon was walking backwards slowly, still staring at what he had just had. He laughed once, shanking his head at the realisation. " My lady's name is..? " You answer as he repeated it twice, to hear how it sounded being said by his voice.

" Y/n, do not get surprised when you get an invite from me. My mother wouldn't be needing you anymore. " He turned to the side, smirking to himself, licked his lips and walked out of the room, giving you one last parting look. You breathe out a sigh, the interaction between you two, starting to become distant. A stupid smile grew on your mouth, you dressed with shaking hands as you began to worry someone might find you in this state.

[geeeemmmmmmm]

Hiiiii thank you for replying to my post!

My idea for a drabble is that Worst!Logan and Reader are neighboors and have a crush on each other. One day Reader's pet disappears (can be a cat or a dog, but I like dogs better) and they're heartbroken. So Logan goes out and uses his enhansed sense of smell to find the pet and return it, winning over Reader's heart.

What do you think?

"Puppy love"

Oh yes yes, I'll try work my magic for ya:)

Warnings:None just some fluff, friends to lovers kinda scenario

A/N:I tried to make this fit your description, I apologise profusely if this wasn't what you were looking for! I do admit this idea had me stumped for a bit but I hope it came out well. As always sorry for any mistakes and enjoy!

WC:1.1K

Your dog has been your shadow for 2 years since you rescued her. She would always follow you, try to jump on your lap any time you sat down and just want to be with you at any given time. Wade, your best friend who luckily lived at the door right opposite yours, didn't mind you bringing her along when you came over. In fact he loved stealing your dog for cuddles with her "Uncle" Wade as he called himself. You were left alone while Wade went on his big important mission, you didn't really know what that entailed as when he was explaining his voice was too high with excitement, you were convinced only your dog could understand. It was too calm without Wade, who's to say you weren't enjoying the peace but you did still miss your best friend.

Everything fell back in place when Wade returned with 2 new arrivals, Mary Puppins the most ugly yet adorable dog ever and Logan Howlett, a different universe's Wolverine. You and Logan had exchanged small conversations whenever you came to Wades for movie nights and such - still always having your fur baby with you. Logan mostly stayed in his room, wanting to be away from Wade and the commotion the two dogs caused having zoomies all around the apartment while you and Wade watched with awe and stifled back laughter at the hilarious sight of the two dogs. 

It took awhile for Logan to come out of his shell and emerge from his room, even if it was only when Wade was out of the room Logan was in. You quickly learnt that Logan is deep down a very charming guy when he isn't brooding somewhere. Logan has always had trouble showing affection to others, even just having friendly conversation but he tried his hardest to overcome that fear with you. "You really aren't a dog person huh?" you mused watching as he tried to push your dog away while she attempted to crawl onto his lap "I just don't get why they like me." He responded, trying to hide his frustration as your dog would not give up trying to crawl up on him. He knew exactly why your dog was obsessed with him, Logan has the ability to both understand animals and "communicate" with them - he just didn't like to use this skill much. Putting the man out of his misery you whistled for her to come back to your lap as she cheerily obliged to your command and curled up upon your lap. The couch was coated in fur, your clothes as well. Logan just huffed a laugh out sipping his beer next to you 

"Where is everyone?" you questioned looking around the messy apartment "Uhh Wade's at Vanessas and I have no clue where Al is" he replied sticking his hand out to give a pat to the snoring dog lounged out on your lap. His arm brushed against yours, it was surprisingly warm for a man with such a seemingly cold personality "sorry" he mumbled quickly retracting his hand and nervously taking a long drink. "Oh it's fine" you mumbled back in reply, secretly wishing he didn't pull back so fast, yet unbeknownst to you Logan only pulled back so fast because he felt you move under his touch and his mind terrified him with thoughts of you harshly rejecting him.

Something was off when you woke up the next day.. your bed felt empty? You rubbed your eyes not noticing the absence of your dog till your eyes properly adjusted. Panic rushed through your system as you threw the sheets off you, calling out her name as you looked around your apartment. Surely she had just gotten up looking for food right? Wrong. Your front door was somehow cracked open, your mind was rushing with all these horrible scenarios of her fate as you sprinted to Wade's door knocking like a maniac. 

"Christ, what time is it" Logan muttered under his breath as he opened the door, completely changing his demeanour when he saw you standing there looking dishevelled in your messy braid and pjs "You okay Bub?" he asked gently "Uh, Uhm is Wade here?" you breathed out panically just wanting your best friend to help you search "Uh no he's at Vanessas but what's wrong can I help with anything?" he replied, panic slowly starting to creep in voice "It's gonna sound stupid but my dogs not in my apartment and my front door was open and I don't know where she's gone" you rushed out, eyes scanning down the hall, desperately trying to catch a glimpse of where she could be. "Oh shit, wait right here. I'll find her." Logan told you not to even let you reply before patting your shoulder and rushing out the main doors in his grey sweatpants and black shirt, even in your panicked state you could still appreciate the view in front of you. Logan tapped into his enhanced sense of smell to try catch any lingering scent of you on her as he inhaled when he got outside. There it was - just a tiny trace of you lingered somewhere, now where was it? It led him to some back alley a couple minutes away from the apartment building, he smelt out your little dog hiding away behind some trash cans but when she caught sight of Logan she sprinted right to him. For once he was happy animals were attracted to him as he scooped her up into his arms and started the walk home. 

You on the other hand were pacing in front of Logan's door, not knowing what to expect when he returned. This dog has been your rock since the moment you rescued her from the shelter and you both just clicked with each other. The doors opened as you kept rethinking what you could've done to prevent this whole thing. It was Logan carrying your baby in his arms. Your body reacted faster than your mind and you charged to the pair "Oh my god, thank you so so so much Logan! I don't know what I'd do without you" you gushed out wrapping your arms around him and your dog "It's okay doll anything for you" he replied back leaning into your touch "God I love you so much for this" you blurt out, not caring what you said anymore. Logan's system went into overload after processing what you had just said to him, he did really enjoy being around you, maybe love was the word to describe his feelings. To be more accurate it felt like puppy love to him.

A/N:I hope this somewhat resembled the ideas you had in mind, thank you for this request and I hope you enjoyed this:)

[sebscore]

if you feel comfortable doing so, how do you think the grid would react if gzd was going through a rough patch and she’s being like really quiet and in her head?

i’m kinda slipping back into this era and i just need the grids comfort

THIS IS ALL I NEVER WANTED

pairing: lando norris x driver!reader / daniel ricciardo x driver!reader / sebastian vettel x driver!reader / lewis hamilton x sebastian vettel

warnings: reader feels defeated and is ready to give up. swearing. mention of sexism.

author’s note: the comfort fic is finally hear, lmao :) sorry that it took me this long, got caught up with gentle hit, but it’s here now !!

masterlist

• • • • • • •

''That's the car of Y/L that goes into the gravel- another DNF for the young driver.'' Crofty commented as he watched her retire from the fight for the third consecutive race. 

Meanwhile in the car, Y/N's radio was bombarded by her engineer. ''We're so sorry, Y/N. A podium was possible, but we'll keep pushing harder for next time. We'll debrief.'' Marco apologised, frustration and guilt audible in his voice. 

''Understood.'' The indifferent tone came as a surprise to the team and viewers, but it was understandable as the driver hadn't been able to finish a race in over a month. 

The ride back to the paddock was humiliating to say the least. The pitiful looks from fans, the judging eyes of critics and the loud whispers didn't do much to brighten the dark cloud that was her mind. 

Her post-race interviews also weren't a great help to her already declining confidence. 

''It's the third consecutive DNF for you- how are you managing to stay positive and to not lose hope in the car?'' Nathalie asked her, sounding compassionate. 

Y/N shrugged her shoulders. ''Nothing is positive at all,'' she sarcastically chuckled, ''I think I'm doing everything right and then it all goes wrong for some reason.'' 

''I'm working hard with the team, but it doesn't seem like it's paying off at the moment. I'm just very disappointed and I- yeah, well, I hate the car.'' 

The reporter in front of her wasn't used to the visible pessimism of the female driver. Y/N was known for her cheerful and up-beat character, always open for a chat and ready to take on any challenge. That figure seemed to be missing at the moment. 

''I hope it gets better for you, Y/N. You're an amazing driver and I wish you good luck for the next race weekend, thank you so much for talking to us.'' Nathalie rounds up the interview before signalling to her cameraman to stop the filming. 

Y/N was about to leave, but a gentle grab of her wrist stopped her. ''Hey, darling- don't let this get you down, alright? There are many people rooting for you here, me included, and we all want to see you do well. You have incredible talent and we know these lasts results aren't a reflection of that.'' 

The Sky Sports presenter had a soft spot for the young woman ever since her arrival to the paddock. Nathalie has always been amazed by Y/N's ability to shrug off all the sexist remarks and to prove the people that doubt her wrong. 

''Thanks, I appreciate it.'' The soft smile on Y/N's face was a fake one, even a child could spot that. However, her words and gratefulness were genuine and that's all that mattered to Nathalie. 

The driver moved quickly between the different journalists, not in the mood for the long and lovely chats that would have happened had she crossed the chequered flag. ''If one more person reminds me of all the DNF's, I'm going to knock myself out with one of these microphones.'' She mumbled to her team's press officer, making the woman laugh but also look at Y/N with a bit of concern. 

Luckily for her, all the media responsible people must have listened to her prayers and went easy on her- maybe sensing her agitation and worsened mood. She and her press officer moved back to the team's hospitality, where a dreaded team briefing would take place. 

''Obviously these aren't the results that we want. We want wins, podiums and points.'' Her team principal started off the meeting, standing at the head of the table. ''It is clear that changes need to be made, whether that be the car, the strategy or the driver even.'' The eyes of the team shifted from their leader to the young woman staring daggers at him. 

''It's not my fault that the fucking engine blows up or that another drivers decides he wants to play bumper cars.'' Y/N defended herself, not seeing why she should be replaced. 

He shook his head. ''I didn't say it was your fault, but we have to look at all the options and that includes you, Y/N.'' The man clarified, taking a deep breath. 

The woman rolled her eyes, causing Marco to send her a stern look that said ''Please, don't make this harder on yourself.'' She got his sign and sat up straight in her chair, figuring her slumping didn't give off a great impression. 

The briefing continued for another hour, going over all the alternatives they had and all the work they had to do while waiting for the next race weekend. ''Alright- thank you, everyone! Have a great break.'' The team principal dismissed the team. 

Y/N was the first one to get up and leave, debating if she would slam the door, but she didn't want a Kevin x Guenther moment with her boss. 

By the time she was on her way to her hotel, most fans had gone home themselves and the paddock was occupied by crew members cleaning the place up. Y/N had a slow pace while walking, not in any hurry to leave the circuit. 

''You're going back to the hotel?'' A voice behind her spoke up, making the female driver yelp as she didn't expect someone to walk up on her. 

Y/N turned around, Lando looking at her with a grin. ''Did I scare you?'' He laughed, finding amusement in making his friend flinch. 

''You could have been a serial killer for all I know, you idiot.'' She slapped his arm, the tension leaving her body as it was only Lando and not some creep. 

''Only on track.'' He winked. 

The young woman frowned at his action. ''Please, never do that again.'' Her feigned disgust with his wink resulted in a light push from her friend. 

''So… you're going to the hotel now?'' Lando asked her again, not having received an answer yet. 

Y/N nodded. ''Yeah, I could use some sleep before the flight tomorrow.'' 

''You, uh, wanna take a car together to the hotel? You know- that way we're not wasting gas, I guess.'' He nervously asked, mumbling the question almost under his breath. 

''Sure,'' Y/N chuckled, ''Seb will be proud of us.'' 

They decided to take his car as she wasn't in the mood to drive anymore and Lando didn't seem to mind. She was grateful for Lando's company, at least her bad day would end on a good note. 

''Sorry about the race today, I know you could have done more.'' Despite being competitors, they were also great friends and it's not fun seeing your friends have bad results. 

Y/N sighed. ''My team- they're, uh, thinking about replacing me.'' She wanted to get her worries off of her chest and Lando bringing up the race seemed like the perfect oppurtunity for it. 

''What?'' He exclaimed, not anticipating that sentence to come out of her mouth. 

''They say they just have to think about all the changes they could make to get better results, but they've been talking an awful lot about the junior drivers so I'm just preparing myself for it.'' She clarified for him, resting her head against the window. 

Lando let her words sink in. ''They- they can't possibly do that, you're one of the best drivers on the grid.'' It came out louder than he intended, but the thought of one of his best friends not being with him on track anymore upsets him. 

''They can do that,'' she sarcastically chuckled, ''I'm impressed I lasted this long- I just know the FIA will be throwing a party now that they don't have to be feminists anymore.'' 

''What do you mean 'lasted'? You're not going anywhere, we have enough races left where you can show your true skills.'' Lando took his eyes off the road to look her in the eye, perhaps wanting her to see how serious he was. 

Y/N shrugged her shoulders, not wanting to talk about it any further. 

The car stopped in front of a red light. ''Hey,'' Lando put his hand on top of hers, ''I'm being serious. We've been racing against each other for over 10 years now- you're a good driver. You'll probably be a World Champion one day.'' 

''You really mean that?'' Her usual confident demeanour had been traded in for an insecure one, her voice coming out smaller than normal. 

He chuckled, nodding his head. ''Of course, I wouldn't lie to you.'' The gentle way he was looking at her assured her that he was in fact being serious and meant everything he said. 

''Thank you,'' Y/N turned her hand and squeezed Lando's, ''now, shut up and drive me to the hotel!'' She pushed his hand away. ''Enough of this emo shit.'' 

''This is the one time I am being nice to you and you just reject my love.'' 

''Stop being so emotional, Norris.'' 

''There she is!'' Daniel loudly announced as Y/N stepped onto the plane, his hands up in the air. 

She tiredly waved at everyone, exhausted from the lack of sleep she had gotten. The young woman groggily sat down next to her Australian colleague, Michael sitting in front of them. 

Daniel snickered at her disoriented state. ''Good morning to you, mate.'' He greeted her, his infamous bright smile on his face. 

''It's fucking early, what are you so happy about?'' She mumbled, while trying to find a good sleeping position. 

''I'm grateful that I get to live another beautiful day, Y/N! We don't appreciate our existence enough, we need to-''

''I'll be grateful for my life when you shut up and let me sleep.'' She interrupted him, closing her eyes and pulling her hat slightly over her face. 

The McLaren driver opted for another teasing comment, but he could see the obvious exhaustion she had going on and let her be, a light pat on the shoulder working as his way to say ''have a good nap''. 

About an hour later the turbulence of the plane woke her up from her much needed sleep. Y/N took her hat off and noticed Daniel still awake, scrolling on his phone while listening to music through his headphones. 

A soft push against his arm brought his attention from his device to the woman next to him, immediately smiling upon seeing that she's awake. ''Sleepyhead.'' 

The beam on his face slowly changed into a nervous frown, worrying his friend. ''What is it? The reality of life finally settled in?'' Y/N awkwardly said, trying to cheer him up. 

''No, uh, it's just that uhm interview you did with Nathalie yesterday- I watched it.'' He answered, sympathy written all over his face. 

''Oh,'' she sat up straight in her seat, ''well, you know it was just after the race so obviously I was very frustrated. You know how it is.'' The driver tried to come off as nonchalant, failing horribly. 

''Lando told me, Y/N.'' Daniel revealed, wanting her to drop the 'it's not a big deal'-act. 

She sighed. ''Oh, that little snake.'' She muttered under her breath. 

''No, I'm glad that he told me. He said he's never seen you so defeated and the way you were talking to Nathalie- you haven't given up, have you?'' Daniel had seen how her recent race results had affected her, but he wasn't aware how deep her frustrations and insecurities had settled in. 

Her silence to his question was an answer in itself. 

''You've been working your ass off since you were like what? 5-6? You're not gonna throw all of that away just because of 3 bad races, right? That's nothing like you.'' The Australian ranted, baffled over her ruined confidence. 

Y/N glanced outside her window, seeing they were high above the clouds. ''I'm not throwing anything away, it's just… my teams seems to have already made up their mind and are just waiting on the right time to tell me that someone else is taking my place.'' The young woman clarified, her words not helping Daniel's growing worries. 

''They would be fucking idiots to replace you, you know that.'' He sneered, rolling his eyes at the thought of another person driving in her seat. 

She weakly chuckled at his response, not finding much humour in the insult to her bosses. 

Daniel's shoulder gently pushed against hers. ''Hey, maybe you need to talk to Seb or Lewis, they're better at this pep-talk shit than I am.'' He suggested, figuring the two older men might have more of an influence on her. 

Y/N let his words process for a few seconds, considering seeking a listening ear in either of the world champions. ''I- I don't know, Dan. They probably have better things to do.'' 

''Like what?'' 

''I don't fucking know- planting trees, feeding Roscoe, whatever.'' She blurted out, making both of them laugh at the random activities they could be doing. 

''Just think about it, I think you'd feel a lot better after talking to one of them.'' Daniel didn't want to push her, knowing it would have the opposite effect on what he wanted for her. 

A tired smile made its way onto her face. ''I will, thank you.'' 

''Good,'' his face mirrored hers, ''and if they do replace you, they're just like Netflix.'' 

''Like Netflix?'' 

''A bunch of cunts.'' 

''I've never seen her that quiet.'' Sebastian mumbled to the Brit next to him, observing the young woman who sat slumped over in her chair. 

Lewis looked over at her, being as equally bewildered as his German colleague. ''I don't blame her, all the stuff they've been saying about her is awful.'' He whispered back. 

''What do you mean?'' Sebastian frowned. 

The Mercedes driver uncomfortably shifted in his head, leaning more towards his friend. ''People have been saying a lot of shit on social media and those fucking annoying journalists certainly don't help. Also, that interview their team principal did.'' 

Sebastian rolled his eyes at the mention. ''Hanna showed me, that was so out of line. He knows people have been wanting her out since the day she got in- shame on him for making all of that so public.'' 

Her team principal had given a quite lengthy interview over the break between the race weekends, publicising the team's problems and their possible solutions, which included a hint to a potential driver change-up. 

''None of the DNF's were even her fault, it's absolutely ridiculous.'' The slander on her name greatly upset Lewis, aware of the talent she possessed and it made him angry that there was even a chance that she might not be on the grid with them the next year. 

''I know and it has taken such a toll on her, Daniel said he talked to her, but I'm a little worried.'' The Aston Martin driver told Lewis, his puzzled look turning into one of sadness. 

The Brit scratched his voice. ''Maybe you can give her some confidence? You've known her for a long time, I'm sure she'll appreciate it.'' 

Sebastian slowly nodded his head, figuring the World Champion might be right. ''Yeah, I'll talk to her later.'' He confirmed, still watching the obvious daydreaming woman from across the room. 

The driver's briefing went on for about half an hour more, the director seeing the visible boredom on every person's face and calling it a day for everyone. 

Y/N couldn't have been more relieved that the meeting was finally over, wanting nothing more than going back to her own hospitality and figuring out ways to make the car work, and actually finish this time around. 

She was one of the last people to leave the briefing room, only George, Lewis and Sebastian walking behind her. The latter tapping her shoulder. ''Hey, haven't talked to you today.'' 

''Yeah, lots of briefings with the team, you know.'' The younger one responded, giving him a quick glance. 

''How's that going?'' 

The woman remained silent for a few moments, considering how much she should tell her mentor about the current state of her place in the team. ''Uhm, well, it's going… decent, I guess.'' Y/N muttered, trailing off. 

''Decent?'' Sebastian repeated, as if asking ''are you serious?'' 

''There are like a bunch of reporters around us, what do you want me to say?'' She replied, a defensive tone to her voice. 

The German patted her back, sensing her agitation. ''It's okay, let's discuss somewhere private.'' He calmed her down, suggesting a different place to have a conversation. 

''Okay.'' 

They opted for her personal driver's home, that being the closest space where they could talk with just the two of them. Some of her team's staff had given the Aston Martin driver some weird looks while they walked through the hospitality, but he brushed them off. 

The pair sat down on her small couch once they arrived, not much space between them. 

Y/N felt some nerves settling in her stomach as she waited for Seb to start speaking, not knowing what he was going to tell her. 

''I'm just gonna be straightforward,'' he started off, ''you can't continue with this attitude, cause you're only setting yourself up. You are a great driver, Y/N. We all have our off weeks, we're not perfect.'' 

''I understand that this isn't a nice situation to be in. Trust me, this green vegetable that I'm driving isn't doing much better at the moment,'' he chuckled, making her crack a smile, ''but if there's one person that can completely turn their season around, it's you.'' 

Y/N avoided eye-contact with him, not sure how to respond to his kind and encouraging words. ''I appreciate that, Seb. I'm not giving up, it's just… very difficult and people are constantly bringing it up, and making articles and shit- that doesn't help me at all. I'm still gonna do my best, but… yeah- it's just difficult.'' 

''I know it's hard and I've heard the media has been hard on you. That's what they do and they see you as an easier target for clicks and whatnot,'' Sebastian rolled his eyes at his own mention of the media, ''But you're better than believing their words.'' 

''You are a talented driver, you have so much potential. Do you think I would have spent all these years with you if I thought you shouldn't be in F1?'' He asked her, a look on his face that told her he wanted an answer. 

The young woman timidly shook her head. ''No, you wouldn't have done that.'' 

Sebastian smiled at her response. ''See?'' He put his arm around her, pulling her closer into him. ''Whether you believe it or not, you're leading this new generation. You're a decent car away from being a World Champion, you know that right?'' 

''Did you talk to Lando? He also said that.'' Y/N nervously grinned. 

''Just accept the truth!'' The German squeezed her shoulders. ''You've proven that you can do anything. You don't want to let down all those young girls that started karting because of you, right? What message would it send to all of them that their role model quit, because she got bumped off the road or her car simply decided to turn itself off.'' 

''You're right,'' she sighed, admitting to herself she needed to drop the pessimistic attitude, ''I don't just owe it to myself, but also to them.'' 

Sebastian nodded along to her words, letting out a deep breath. ''I'm relieved you're seeing it, I don't like seeing you like this. It's weird not seeing you smile or making fun of the drivers.'' He smirked, patting her shoulder. 

''I guess everyone deserved an off-day, tomorrow I'll start again.'' Y/N grinned, laughing at Sebastian's reminder of her fondness to poke fun at their colleagues. 

The senior driver gave her one last squeeze and stood up from the couch, adjusting his pants. ''No more frowns, alright? You're gonna do great this weekend and you're gonna show everyone why you deserve your seat.'' 

Y/N nodded, more confident than when she first walked back into her driver's room. ''Yes, I'm gonna do my best, Seb.'' 

They bumped their fists as if to solidify it was going to be a great race weekend for them both. 

''And go easy on me tomorrow with the teasing.'' 

''I'd rather be run off the track again then let that happen.''

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[navi-the-flying-bee]

Training season?

A/N: okay i don't know how in the 5 oceans i posted without disappearing for a year or two but here i am.

Warnings: Dazai mention of suicide. Being beaten up. My horrible sense of humor. Second-hand embarrassment. (i guess that's all)

You stared at the wooden training sword in your hands, then at Fukuzawa, who stood calmly before you in the Agency’s private dojo.

“…Are you sure about this, sir?” you asked.

“You have potential,” Fukuzawa said simply, adjusting his grip on his own bokken. “Your ability is strong, but you rely on it too much. A warrior must also be skilled in combat.”

You pursed your lips. Fair.

Atsushi sat nearby, watching like a curious student. Ranpo had shown up just for the snacks.

“Alright,” you sighed, shifting into a stance. How hard could it be?

Fukuzawa moved.

You barely saw him coming.

The crack of wood hitting wood echoed as you barely managed to block. The force shook your arms.

You winced. Oh, he’s fast.

“Your stance is weak,” Fukuzawa noted, stepping back. “Again.”

You reset, adjusting your footing. You could do this.

Fukuzawa struck again—this time, you dodged. You swung for his side, but he effortlessly deflected your attack, his counterstrike knocking your sword away.

You sighed. “This is embarrassing.”

Atsushi winced. “You’re doing great?”

Ranpo, eating cookies, added, “You’re losing spectacularly.”

You glared at him.

Fukuzawa chuckled. “You rely on reaction speed. But in swordsmanship, instinct alone won’t be enough. Read your opponent.”

You took a deep breath. Read him.

You watched his stance, his breathing¬when would he move?

When he did, you anticipated it.

You blocked more smoothly this time, adjusting mid-movement, your body beginning to understand the rhythm.

A small smile crossed Fukuzawa’s face. “Better.”

You smirked. You were getting the hang of this.

Then, without warning-

He knocked you flat on your back.

You groaned. “Never mind.”

Atsushi looked concerned. Ranpo looked amused.

Fukuzawa extended a hand to help you up. “You improve quickly,” he said, “but you still have much to learn.”

You sighed, taking his hand. “I guess that means more training?”

Fukuzawa nodded.

Ranpo snickered. “Have fun getting beat up every day.”

You threw your training sword at him.

Here's your text with "Ciel" replaced by "you" and any direct address to Ciel changed to "Y/N":

The Day After "Training™"

You woke up feeling like you had been hit by a truck.

Everything hurt.

Your arms. Your legs. Your soul.

You groaned, rolling over in bed. bad idea. Even your ribs ached. “Ugh… I think Fukuzawa broke me.”

After struggling to get dressed, you made your way to the Agency, moving like an old grandma.

Atsushi noticed immediately.

“oh my god! Are you okay? You’re walking weird.”

You shot him a deadpan look. “No, Atsushi. I’m not okay. I am in pain.”

He winced. “Fukuzawa’s training?”

"yes"

Tanizaki nodded in sympathy "yeah... he trained me once. I couldn't move for three days"

Your soul left your body.

Three days?! You were doomed.

Ranpo, of course, found your suffering hilarious.

“Oh nooo,” he said, munching on a donut, “did little Y/N get beat up?”

You glared. “I will throw you out the window.”

“Not with those weak arms,” he teased.

You tried to lunge at him—your body refused. Instead, you just groaned in pain.

Ranpo laughed harder.

Dazai walked in, saw your struggling, and immediately lit up. “I have the perfect solution for your pain!”

You narrowed your eyes. “If you say suicide, I will actually hit you.”

Dazai put a hand over his heart. “How could you accuse me of such a thing?”

“Because it’s you.”

“…Okay, fair,” he admitted. Then he grinned. “But seriously, have you tried dying? It would solve everything.”

You grabbed Atsushi’s notebook and threw it at him.

Dazai dodged effortlessly. “Such violence! You should rest, Y/N-chan~”

You groaned, dropping into your chair.

Fukuzawa walked into the office. The room went silent.

You froze.

The others slowly turned to look at you.

Fukuzawa approached. “How do you feel?”

You, still in pain, forced a polite smile.

“Great! Totally fine! No issues at all!”

Fukuzawa nodded. “Good. Then we’ll train again later.”

Your smile died.

Atsushi looked horrified. Ranpo was crying from laughter.

Dazai just whispered: “Rest in peace.”

You mentally screamed.

~~~Later

You considered running away.

You really did.

But Fukuzawa was too fast. And also, you respected him too much to just ditch training (unlike Ranpo, who would absolutely fake an illness to avoid work).

So here you were, back in the dojo, holding a wooden sword with arms that still felt like jelly.

Fukuzawa watched you with his usual calm expression. "You’re still sore."

"Understatement of the century," you muttered.

Fukuzawa simply nodded. "Good. Then you’ll be more aware of your mistakes today."

You stared at him. He was serious.

Oh no.

The moment Fukuzawa moved, you knew you were doomed.

You tried to block—your arms were too slow. The next thing you knew, your sword went flying.

"Ow—!" You barely dodged as he aimed for you again, forcing you to roll across the mat.

Atsushi, watching from the side, flinched. "That looked painful…"

Ranpo, eating a snack, just grinned. "This is the best entertainment I’ve had in weeks."

You ignored them. You scrambled to grab your sword, heart pounding.

Fukuzawa gave you a single moment before attacking again.

This time, you focused.

Read him.

You saw the subtle shift in his weight, the slight movement of his wrist-

He was aiming low.

You reacted instinctively. Instead of blocking, you sidestepped.

Fukuzawa’s strike missed.

Atsushi gasped. Ranpo stopped chewing.

You took the opening. you swung at Fukuzawa’s side.

For half a second, you thought you had him-

Then, with ridiculous speed, he spun his sword and blocked your attack perfectly.

And then, as if to humble you even more-

He knocked the sword from your hands. Again.

You stood there, defeated.

Fukuzawa lowered his weapon, giving you an approving nod. "You improved."

You, sweating and out of breath, stared at him. "…I lost again."

"You lasted longer."

"By five seconds!"

"Five seconds can decide a battle."

You paused. Okay, fair.

Atsushi clapped. "That was amazing!"

Ranpo finally swallowed his snack. "Eh, you’re still getting wrecked, but at least it’s not immediate."

You shot him a glare.

Fukuzawa nodded at you. "Tomorrow, we’ll focus on endurance."

Your soul left your body. "…Tomorrow?"

Fukuzawa turned to leave. "Rest well."

You dropped to the floor. "I AM IN PERMANENT PAIN."

Atsushi gave you a sympathetic pat. Ranpo just laughed.

Dazai, who had been watching silently, finally spoke.

"Hey, y/n," he said, grinning. "Have you considered faking your death?"

Next Morning

You woke up and immediately regretted everything.

Your entire body felt like it had been run over by a train. No. several trains.

Your arms? Destroyed. Your legs? Useless. Your soul? Gone.

You groaned into your pillow. "I am never moving again."

Atsushi knocked on your door. "Ciel? Are you awake?"

"No," you croaked.

Atsushi, bless his kind heart, actually hesitated. "Oh… okay, I’ll just-"

Ranpo’s voice cut in. "She’s faking, let’s go."

A second later, Atsushi and Ranpo burst into your room.

You barely lifted your head. "What do you want."

Atsushi held up a bag. "I brought breakfast?"

You considered. Food… or staying in bed?

Your stomach growled.

"Fine," you muttered, slowly forcing yourself up. Every movement hurt.

Ranpo smirked. "You look like an old lady."

You threw a pillow at him. Your arm barely moved.

Ranpo dodged effortlessly. "Pathetic."

You swore under your breath.

You limped into the Agency. Everyone noticed.

Kunikida raised an eyebrow. "You’re still sore?"

You slowly turned to look at him. "Kunikida. If Fukuzawa trained you, would you be fine the next day?"

Kunikida opened his mouth. Paused. Closed it.

You smirked. Exactly.

Dazai appeared, draping himself over your shoulders. "y/n~~chan~, you’re alive! I was sure you’d die in your sleep."

"Not for lack of trying," you muttered.

Fukuzawa entered the room. The entire Agency went silent.

You froze.

He looked at you. "Are you ready for training?"

Your soul left your body.

Atsushi winced. Ranpo grinned. Dazai whispered, "May you rest in peace."

You sighed. "…I’m going to die, aren’t I?"

Fukuzawa simply nodded.

You stood in the dojo, sword in hand, heart pounding. You had survived enough of this grueling training, and you were ready.. at least, in theory.

Today was the day. You could feel it. You would finally win. You would impress Fukuzawa.

You would not be humiliated.

"Are you prepared?" Fukuzawa asked, his calm voice breaking through your intense focus.

Your grip tightened on your sword. "I was born ready."

The room was silent. Everyone watched. All of the agency members watching (having heard from Ranpo that it would be fun)

Atsushi, Ranpo, Kunikida, and even Yosano, who somehow had a front-row seat, were all fully invested.

You could do this. You had trained, studied his moves, read his body language, and no more mistakes.

Fukuzawa nodded. "Begin."

You moved first.. a confident swing, targeting his shoulder. Fukuzawa, of course, blocked effortlessly.

But then, something unexpected happened.

You, for a split second, felt a surge of determination. you would take him down this time. You aimed a low strike, the one you had been practicing all week.

But instead of executing a graceful swing, your foot slipped.

Your face met the floor with a very loud thud.

A collective gasp filled the room, followed by silence.

"…I meant to do that," you muttered, face pressed into the mat.

Fukuzawa stood there, unmoved.

Ranpo snickered. "Such grace. Very elegant."

You, still on the ground, raised your hand weakly. "Shut up, Ranpo."

You pushed yourself back to your feet, brushing off the embarrassment like it was nothing.

It wasn’t nothing.

You were in pain. Your pride? Crushed. But it wasn’t over.

You re-focused, and with one swift motion, you went in for another attack. this time, a horizontal swing.

You thought you had it.

But as you swung, your sword got stuck in the floorboards.

Of course.

Now you were frozen in place, trying to yank the sword free while Fukuzawa watched you struggle like you were a toddler trying to pull a toy out of a box.

Fukuzawa didn’t even flinch.

Atsushi covered his face in second-hand embarrassment.

Ranpo laughed so hard that he fell off his seat.

"Well, that’s one way to lose," he snickered.

You yanked the sword free at last, and by some miracle, you weren’t completely defeated. You were still in the fight.

You took a deep breath and charged again. This time! this time! you were sure.

You lunged-

But the sword slipped from your hands mid-swing.

It flew across the room, clattering against the wall.

You stared at your empty hands.

And then, slowly, you turned back to Fukuzawa.

Your expression was completely blank. "…I’m done."

Fukuzawa lowered his sword. "You’ve improved."

You blinked, still processing. "I’ve… improved?"

"Yes. Your effort is commendable."

"I can’t feel my arms. Or my dignity," you muttered.

Atsushi rushed over, genuinely concerned. "Are you okay? You look like you’re dying."

Ranpo wiped a tear from his eye. "That was the best fight I’ve ever seen. I thought you might actually win, but then-"

You glared at him. "I don’t want to hear it, Ranpo."

Kunikida adjusted his glasses before talking. "You fought valiantly. I’m sure you’ll recover from this."

"Yeah, after I spend the next week in bed with an ice pack," you grumbled.

Fukuzawa, still stoic, nodded once. "Your training is not over. Tomorrow, we begin again."

You mentally screamed. "Tomorrow?! Are you trying to kill me?!"

Fukuzawa remained unfazed. "No. Just making sure you learn patience."

You let out an exaggerated sigh, collapsing to the floor. "I’m done. I’m quitting. I’ll be a librarian."

"Doesn’t sound like a bad idea," Ranpo added, still chuckling.

You turned to him, deadpan. "You want me to chase you with a sword?"

Ranpo snickered. "Please do. It’d make my day."

Dazai leaned over and whispered, "I think you're actually good at this. You're just a walking disaster."

You closed your eyes and resigned yourself to your life of eternal failure. "Yeah. Pretty much."

~~~~~~~~~

Wait! You actually thought you would win? (⁠●⁠_⁠⁠●⁠)⁩

[mostly-marvel-musings]

Birthday Boy

A/N: A little something for our favorite birthday boy. Written for @fandom-free-bingo Happy birthday Tony Stark! Leave a heart, comment or reblog if you enjoyed the story.

Pairing: Tony Stark x Avenger! F! Reader (our reader has Falcon-like abilities and Red Wing as well)

Warnings: 18+ smut, fluff.

Word count: 2675

Square filled: “You’re coming with me.”

Fandom Free Bingo Masterlist

.

“You’ve got one on your left, Y/L/N. He’s armed. And does nine o’clock work for you?”

Rolling your eyes, you ignored the last bit of Tony’s sentence and jumped into action. Disarming the Hydra soldier wasn’t a big deal for you, what was distracting was the constant commentary coming in from the snarky billionaire who was hard to push off.

It was his birthday and you were one of his closest friends, all he wanted to do was go out, party and spend time with you - meaning he wanted you to potentially hook him up with someone while he did the same for you. And then the two of you would bitch about your respective dates over breakfast the next day, laugh and get over it, like you always did.

But this time around it was different. You were finding it harder and harder to keep your feelings for the man at bay. You couldn’t remember when it all actually went from friendship to something more, maybe it was around your fifth bad date when you felt super down in the dumps, Tony had been the best listener, he always was, he just never got enough credit for it. You spoke all night, he wiped your tears and made you feel better about yourself. You felt truly seen and heard. That was when you realized what lacked in all the other boys that you had found in Tony, someone you wanted the most and someone you probably could never have.

Which is why you were avoiding spending another drunken evening with the man, you would probably end up spilling your guts and if he didn’t feel the same way, you’d be left heartbroken and you would lose a really good friend.

“Good job, Y/N. You’re a solid addition to the team, unlike Legolas over here with his carpal tunnel syndrome.”

You chuckled as you heard Clint swearing at Tony over the comms, shaking you head, you continued your way into the building to extract information. Once you were done, you stepped out and made your way over to the jet where you were met with an impatient looking Tony.

“What?”

“You haven’t answered my question. Tomorrow, you and me, out on the town? It’s my birthday in case you forgot.” his big brown eyes implored you for an answer, standing in your way until you did. Sometimes you hated how persistent he could be, and more than that the fact that you fell for those gorgeous eyes every single time.

“Well?”

“Ugh. Fine! I’ll go. But you’re paying. And you will drop me home in case I get shitfaced.” you sighed, pushing him away and towards the bathroom to change.

Now you were kind of dreading tomorrow as much as you were looking forward to celebrating with your friend.

.

“How about fishnet stockings over there? She’s got a rack that would get you googly-eyed.” you tried to avoid the disdain in your voice as you nodded at the blonde who sat at the far end of the bar.

Tony was sucking on a wedge of lemon post the shots you two had downed before he turned his gaze in the direction you were pointing at. He hummed in appreciation but did nothing about it, simply went on ordering you some more drinks.

“What?” you frowned, secretly hoping he wouldn’t approach the woman because it would break your heart but Tony wasn’t one to shy away from a challenge. Especially when it came to women. He just loved showing off how much he ‘didn’t have to try’.

Tony shrugged, not answering you right away, instead he pushed a drink towards you, his knee nudging yours now that he had slid closer. The familiar smell of his cologne mixed with motor oil and coffee filled your nostrils, making you wish just for once you could snuggle closer to him and just revel in his scent. Pushing your luck a little, you laid your arm across his shoulder and angled your body towards him, to your surprise he pulled you closer and kissed your temple, making your little heart flutter hopelessly.

“Careful Stark, the ladies are gonna think we’re together and you might end up having an off night.” you teased.

“Tony Stark never has an off night, sweetheart. Never.” his breath fanned your cheek as he spoke, raising an eyebrow up at you just to make sure you understood his point. A tingle went down your spine as his fingers caressed the back of your neck, lightly grazing your skin.

This wasn’t good. No. Not since your feelings were on overdrive.

“Then why aren’t you going over to Fishnets? Come on, I’m sure she’ll be more than happy to warm your bed.”

Tony made a face at your words, one that had you frowning because it was unusual. He never answered though.

“What about you, Y/L/N? No guy worthy enough for your attention here? I thought one of those suited up, boring businessmen would be up your alley. What do you think?”

You looked over to where Tony was pointing, the guys were certainly handsome and by the looks of it seemed quite well to do. Maybe you could go up to them, strike up a conversation and eventually go home with one, in hopes of forgetting about your crush. Yeah, you certainly needed to get laid, it had been a while.

“Alright then. I will if you will.” you finished your drink and slammed it a little hard on the table than you normally would.

“What?” Tony frowned.

“You and Fishnets. Me and Mr. Suity-man over there. We’ll see which one of us hits the jackpot.” you winked, steadying yourself before giving Tony a little shove. It was a distraction you needed. Maybe watching Tony work his charm on another woman would work in helping you get over him finally.

.

Tony felt his blood boil at the sight of the fancy-ass suited guy wrap an arm around your waist while you giggled. The woman next to him was practically throwing herself at him, not the least bit interesting when it came to conversations and was pretty much laughing at everything he said, even if it wasn’t funny. Normally he would have her back at the penthouse already, be done with before heading down to his lab and have her sent off before he had his first cup of coffee in the morning. But it was different, he had no intentions of sleeping with that woman. Or any other woman that wasn’t Y/N.

These days, he only had eyes for her. Y/N made him feel things he didn’t think he was capable of feeling. Being with her made him feel like he was worth something, like he was finally being seen for who he really was. Her laugh made his heavy heart a little lighter, her presence felt like warm sunshine on a cold day.

And now he felt like he was blowing his chance with you by agreeing to this stupid bet. Catching her eye, he raised his eyebrows to ask how it was going, chuckling to himself when she made a disgusted face. That sent relief flooding through his system for some reason, at least she wasn’t going home with that stupid, tall guy.

A few moments later you both caught up at the bar for more drinks, letting out collective defeated sighs and shaking your heads.

“This pub is dull. I’m going home alone, aren’t I?” you huffed, feeling dejected and placing your head against your hand as you looked at the woman Tony was supposed to talk to, she had a sour expression on her face before she stormed off to where your potential date was. Maybe they would hit it off, you thought with a laugh.

“You and I both, Y/L/N. So? What was wrong with him?” Tony mirrored your position, eyes curious.

“Ugh. The guy wouldn’t stop yapping about football, he hates all animals and he thinks you’re just a big show-off.” You rolled your eyes, downing a glass of water in between to keep yourself hydrated.

“I mean, he’s not completely wrong,Y/N.” Tony shrugged. It wouldn’t be the first time someone’s called him that, hell, he had been called worse.

“Shut up. He couldn’t be more wrong.”

Something about your tone amused him though, the way you got so defensive about him kinda made him feel proud. And intrigued him to know more.

“I mean he had the balls to say you are a pompous, arrogant jerk who does things for nobody but yourself.” You scoffed.

“It’s not like he’s ever spent months in some cave in Afghanistan and escaped, turned his whole business around and bloody well succeeded, invented a frickin 'element, saved I don’t know thousands of lives? Formed the avengers? Been the most generous man I’ve ever come across and—”

Your sentence was cut short as Tony’s lips cut you off abruptly. Was it really happening? Utterly shocked at first, you didn’t respond for a few seconds which made him stop.

“Is that why you rejected him?” He murmured, now cupping your face tenderly with his hands.

“That and the fact that he wasn’t you.” You answered honestly, your heart thudding beyond control at this point as blood rushed to your ears and cheeks, turning them warm.

“You’re the only one I want too, Y/N. Always have.”

His confession turned your insides into mush, a grin forming on your face that you couldn’t control. It was just a little hard to believe that the man you wanted also wanted you in return. The kind of stuff only dreams and romantic novels are made of.

“You’re coming with me.”

Grabbing your hand Tony guided you out of the pub. And of all the people you could go home with, you were finally going with the one person you wanted the most.

.

There was a flurry of activity once you were back at Tony’s penthouse. Clothes strewn about, giggles echoing in the empty hallway along with fervent kisses.

Once you were down to your underwear, Tony stepped back to admire your body, his gaze darkening as he saw the lacy, red lingerie you wore. It was a happy coincidence but for him, it was enough to want you in every way.

“Is this my birthday present?” He pulled you flush against his chest, turning you around so your ass grazed against his growing erection. Lips pressed against your warm skin, his hands slid lower and lower until he cupped your clothed sex to find it damp with desire.

“Maybe this is? Hmm?” His breath was hot against your ear, fingers teasing your folds over your panties before sliding them aside to feel you.

Gently tugging on his hair, you turned around in his arms and pushed him on his back until he flopped on the bed, smirking up at you as you straddled his legs.

“Eager much?”

“Very much.”

Placing a hand on his chest, you lowered yourself on top and kissed him, smiling into it when it responded with equal if not more enthusiasm. Your tongue slipped past his mouth, earning a needy grunt from the man as you moved your hips deliberately over his, teasing his clothed cock as it eagerly twitched underneath you.

“How come it took you so long to kiss me, Stark?” your tone was light but accusatory as you nipped at his ear. The way he was kissing you first made you realize you weren’t the only one longing for this to happen.

“How come it took you so long to act upon your feelings, Y/L/N?” he inquired instead, holding your hips and sitting up with you, caressing your sides gently with a faint smile playing on his lips.

You knew he’d ask you this question, you took a deep breath and decided on going with honesty, he deserved to know the truth if this was ever going to work out. Whatever ‘this’ was.

“I didn’t know if you felt the same way, Tony. I was afraid of losing you. You’re a royal pain in my ass but you’re my friend, Anthony Stark. So whatever we’re doing here, or about to do, I don’t want it to affect our friendship, okay? I’m completely fine with the whole friends with benefits situation–”

Yet again, your little ramble was cut off by Tony’s soft lips, kissing your insecurities away delicately, allowing your heart to flutter a little.

“That’s the thing, Y/N. I don’t want to be your friend anymore–, you felt like your stomach dropped, for a second you couldn’t believe what was going on before he continued, “I want to be your boyfriend, the best and only one you’ll have. You’re my ray of sunshine and I want you all to myself. That is if you’ll have me.” he blinked up at you in all sincerity, fingers fidgeting against your skin nervously as he waited.

His confession sent a thousand butterflies fluttering in your belly.

“You need to stop cutting me off like that, Stark.” you murmured with a smile as you tugged on his hair, inching your face closer to him.

“Or what?”

You hummed, pushing him back down once more and letting your hair drape around his face as you slid a hand down his torso, down past his boxers to find his length eager for you. Your touch elicited a needy moan from the man as your fingers gripped him, giving him slow, lazy strokes.

“You’re bossy, I like it.” his mouth fell open at your ministrations, his breath coming in shallow.

You didn’t take long to undress then, kissing along his chest which was littered with scars the closer look you had. Tony hadn’t felt so vulnerable and yet safe at the same time, then again he’d never been with you.

You lined yourself up against him, watching him as you sank down on his cock, letting out a content sigh as he stretched you out completely. Slow at first, you began rolling your hips against him, feeling every last inch of him as you continued to kiss, swallowing his grunts.

“You feel so good, Y/N.” Tony sighed, digging his fingers into your hips, thrusting up into you for more.

“So do you, Tony. Fuck me, please.” your needy whisper was all he needed to flip you over so you were under him, still connected. Once he had your arms pinned above your head, he didn’t stop, didn’t stop until you were a writhing mess, crying out his name as he impaled you with his cock. His brutal pace had you clenching around him in desperation, wanting release as you clung to him.

“Come for me, Y/N. Let me hear you.”

Tony’s words undid you, making your pussy spasm around his length as you gushed, his name falling from your lips like a prayer. You were in a haze as his end approached, pulling out in time to come all over your thighs, spurts of his cum painting your skin white as he groaned in pleasure.

“I think that was the best sex I’ve ever had.” he panted, helping you clean up before cuddling you close, frowning when all you did was hum.

“I’ve had better.” you teased, his reactions always made the joke worth it. He tickled you until you begged for mercy, out of breath as you laughed with the man, feeling a sense of contentment being with him like this. His relaxed features and demeanor suggested he felt the same.

“Oh! I completely forgot!”

“What?”

“Happy birthday, Tony.”

💛Happy Birthday to our favourite ray of sunshine, Anthony Edward Stark💛

[ay0nha]

An Ode to Ruination | T.S.

SUMMARY: Tommy was addicting. Chronic. His aura was intimidating. He was callus to those close to him. And yet, there was that desire to sink below that murky water—drown in him entirely when his want was so clear in his breath. 

PAIRING: Tommy Shelby x f!reader

WORD COUNT: 2.5K

WARNINGS: ANGST, swearing, smoking, drinking, semi-preoccupations with thoughts of death/suicide, mutual pining, meanish tommy because his feelings are hurt, canon-typical things, protective!tommy, rushed ending, etc.

A/N: Yeah, yeah, I’m back on my bullshit.  This is inspired by @zodiyack​‘s request/post (here). HAD to get it out of my system, I mean look how pretty he is. This is a mix of Old writing I had to dust off the cob webs for mixed with new stuff, so be kind. Enjoy.

“You’re leaving.”

Tommy’s tone was sterile. It left little room for interpretation or defiance. The statement came without hesitation but held pent-up sentiment veiled by familiar poise. You vetted his blank gaze for proper determination of his upset.  

The cracks behind his exterior were so deeply concealed you hadn’t thought anything could slip between. Yet, standing before him, your decision was the ice-pick that’s pressure had shattered him.

“Ada told you?” You hummed with formality; his presence clearly a response to the question. “London will treat me well.”

Tommy tracked your movements. You envied how he filled the space better than you. Perhaps it was the vulnerability in his presence. Regardless, you felt like a guest in your own home. You felt caught, exposed.

The air was thick, causing Tommy’s deep breaths hard to hide behind a crackling record that you had on a continual loop, never able to stand too much silence. Your bags were organized beside the door for the morning, causing your heart to echo against the empty walls.

There was an odd sense of pride you felt with his presence. It confirmed the distant admiration that Tommy held for years. That the shared affection wasn’t something fabricated but complex. You respected his drive, but your desires fell elsewhere. He carved space for you despite your protests, but you could never be the one to fill it—you could never be his.

“A better life, eh?” Tommy mocked you, cigarette rolling over his lips with habit. “Fucks sake.” The confidence in his demeanor faltered. But he regained it quickly with a bitter laugh, “...I’ve given you everything, and here you are asking for more.”

With an instinct to comfort him, you wanted to reach for him. It spoke of your ability to read him and how exhausting it had become to interpret. He would miss you.

“Tommy—” You began. The calmness in your voice was deceiving. You could see it in his face, how expectant he was for you to tell him you’d stay. “—I’m not safe with you.” You paused, letting your admission sink in just as harshly as his words had, “I’m going to London.”

—

The bliss was idyllic.

Your wrist balanced on the windowsill as you lazily tapped the ash of your cigarette. The cool air caressed your arm and gave you goosebumps that reminded you that you were still alive. Human. Your senses were perked. The city outside kept you attentive as your head rested back. The day was long, but hearing the taxis carrying bubbling people made it worth it. You imagined how some were on their way to find warmth in their home while others were dressed for an endless night of laughter.  

The living room was empty and quiet. You could no longer hear Ada’s shuffling feet above you, ushering both her and Karl to sleep. It was odd that you found such freedom with them. Protection of sorts that you could rely on as a necessary stepping stone. It caused a headache to form at the back of your head, reminding you of your lack of sleep.

Privilege came with the name associated that made your stomach churn.  It was simple to push Tommy into a subconscious level. The task became daunting; an ache emerged from so deep within that it took months to realize from the start he was responsible.   It was as though you could feel how his eyes were still on you.

It became a habit to remind yourself of your newfound safety. The distance created life: happiness and tranquility. You traded bloody nights for bedtime stories, sewing razor-filled caps for gin-filled gatherings, and Tommy’s scarcity of communication for peaceful nights like tonight.

A disruption was overdue. You answered the phone after the third ring.

“Ada?” The voice was unmistakable, even if it was whiskey drenched. It took him a beat to realize you were on the other end. “... ’m callin’ for Ada.”

Chewing on your lip, you debated silence and pretended like the call had never begun. But that incessant ache begged to be relieved.

“I can wake her.” Your voice was soft, promising something you were unwilling to do. It was nicety that filled the quietness you were met with.

“I—uh—” Tommy sighed deeply. The words were lost, jumbled behind an always racing mind. You could picture him well; his crisp shirt no longer having life as it was rolled up by anxiety, his tie no longer present, but still suffocating him, and everything around him reflecting how he moved with an intemperate haze. “—I’m drowning—”

“Tommy…” You refused to burst, but his name on your tongue tattered between warning and heartbreak. When he drank, he opened up to you, a foolish cycle. “Let me get Ada…”

The dark chuckle on the other end forced you to press yourself closer to the phone. “Sometimes, I wish I were dead so you'd think of me.”

A frown perked your lips. You were made out to be more heartless than the most heartless man you knew. It was a naive guilt trip that you almost slipped on. “Be fair to me, Tommy.”

There was a crackle on the other end, a cigarette lit purely by regret. The drag was long, trying to pull something thoughtful from a blurred mind. The reports he received from those he paid off weren’t enough.  You were thriving with his absence, seen with a mix of people who, even acquaintances, valued you better. It elicited resentful envy. However, out of arms reach, you worried Tommy endlessly. The London associates sought blood, no matter who provided it. The paranoia was ruining him, and no answer could reassure him.

“You a communist yet?” Tommy cleared his throat with a vulnerability that was only reserved for this night. Maybe, you thought, it was an effort on his part.

“Almost…” The teasing comforted a dodged homesickness. “Think my card got lost in the post.”

“Shame.” He tutted with a gentle wit. There was a tender sadness he carried with him. It was almost as volatile as his anger. It was easy to blame it on the war, but it had latched onto him long before, never planning to let go.

You imagined how his exhaustion mapped along his body. His body probably mirrored your own; head back, limbs weakly sprawled, heavy-lidded eyes imagining the other beside each other, and a mutual worry that bounced between you.

“I am happy, Tommy…” Your promise was delayed, hardly believable. “Ada and I do miss everyone.”

I miss you.

Tommy hummed, “...have a funny way of showin’ that.”

“You haven’t seen our smoke signals?”

The laugh you were met with was small, light, and barely there, but it rushed through your limbs and heated your chest. You had a moment to catch your breath and slow your heart rate. Tommy was addicting. Chronic. His aura was intimidating. He was callous to those close to him. And yet, there was that desire to sink below that murky water—drown in him entirely when his want was so clear in his breath.  

—

You knew Tommy would be there. For Ada—you reminded yourself. Yet, seeing him so closely caused your heart to lurch, your blood leaving your extremities with such fascination that you became light-headed.

“Drink.” Ada all but scolded you, crystal pushed into your hand. The instruction was welcomed, but it wasn’t enough to settle you. “Otherwise, you’ll clam up if Tommy bothers to find us.”

Tommy worked the crowd well. It was a feigned charm that he played into only for advantage. Although he claimed to be here for family, business always loomed. Ada hadn’t cared either way, the glitz far too intriguing to question his sudden presence in the city.

“Give him time…” Ada spoke openly to the air, her night’s indulgence tracing her words. “...always time with that one—wastes it, and yet, expects you to be there when he hollers. Does your head in, it does…”

The champagne bubbled down your throat. The night was meant to be celebratory, but you’d be lying if you said you knew why. It was a part of your distinction from the Shelby family that you questioned if ignorance truly brought you bliss.

“Surprised he came himself. Thomas Shelby in the flesh,” Ada continued with ease, mocking her brother. “Surprised he even lifted a pinky. Typically one of his goons—” She looked to you, her revelation cutting her off. “You do understand what you do to him, don’t you?”

“I don’t want to.” Your words were sharp. Your eyes filtered the crowd for the gloved waiter to replace your glass. “There’s nothing that I—I’ve put all that behind me.”

“That?” She pressed with practiced bits of patience. Ada’s smile grew comically. The shy glancing took years to turn into full sentences and Ada knew firsthand how to read her brother, and the way he lingered spoke volumes. He was past smitten.

It was all or nothing; you were it.

You were grateful how her attention shifted to her own relationship. You never tired of hearing how Freddie treated her and loved her since they were children. There was somberness in her eyes, but devotion carried in her words. You saw how she carried him with her; certain mannerisms mirrored not only in her but Karl. Love withstood.

There was a point in your life you believed you’d find something similar. You hadn’t faulted your growing mind; it was natural to romanticism your future at such a young age. Those around you promised there was something fruitful to look forward to. However, life proved difficult; men remained boys, and the only person that you regarded stalked toward you as if you were nothing more than a stranger.

“Ada.” Tommy approached his sister as if she were alone. He’d visited her in the city multiple times but never once shared the air with you. “Enjoying yourself tonight, eh?”

“Mothers can still have fun.” She teased him with a peck on the cheek. Even in her state, she ridiculed her brother’s behavior. With a shoulder pushed against his, Ada encouraged Tommy to acknowledge you. “Have you no manners?”

To others, his expression may have appeared vacant. However, Tommy wrestled with himself, unsure how to maneuver in uncharted territory. Stalling, his eyes danced the crowd as he languidly out his matches and carton. It denoted how natural his icy illusion became, and now he seemed able to practice it on you. Once he landed on you, you realized why he struggled to meet your eyes. It was his only form of self-defense.

“London suits you.” Tommy nodded, his greeting muffled through the newly lit cigarette. The small rush it gave him was enough to stay vigilant.

“It has its moments.”  Your chest perked from the attention and chill, but Tommy’s eyes never faltered from your own. You were daring him to take your body in. It was the sole reason you chose a dress that cut low both front and back.

Tommy was never a blind man.

Nor was his sister. Ada excused herself, claiming whatever ‘this’ was, she wanted no part. You are no fun, she said. However, you weren’t sure who it was directed to. You held back from following her, but your shoulders remained open; you wouldn’t fold into yourself.

“I didn’t know communists could have fun…” Tommy mumbled to himself, eyes going to the crowd once more. Ada’s self-imposed isolation rippled through the family, only fracturing the stress of everyone’s well-being.

A scoff bubbled in your throat, “And what do you know about pleasure?”

“Pleasure?” Tommy became focused and pointed with his words. “Pleasure doesn’t exist.”

Eyebrows cinching with frustration, you stepped closer to be heard, “Don’t pretend like your pleasures don’t have names.”

That drunken call all those nights ago was a mistake. It showed you insight into a dream. In that dream, Tommy was free of what haunted him, light and present. Faithful. There his voice wrapped you in warmth with fulfilled promises. You never were as skilled at hiding your emotions. Your heart was broken on your sleeve.

“I’m going to—

There wasn’t a need for a protective air as those around Tommy knew never to challenge him. However, far and few between, there were those men self-entitled with such idiocy; they couldn’t recognize they were prey.

“Thomas Shelby. Birmingham man in London.” A hand clapped down on his shoulder, breaking the forming bubble around you. “Thought that was you! This must be the missus…”

“Not quite.” Your tone was bare, your hand extending with trained expertise. You could handle pleasantries. But the man was bold, leaving a damp kiss on your knuckles as if marking you.

Tommy was subtle, moving his body to act as a buffer. Fingertips brushy feather-bare against your lower back. You thought it would end there but held back a flinch when Tommy’s warm palm flattened where your back curved.

“Ah, understood!” The man replied with a boisterous cackle. It reflected years of unfiltered nicotine and a wet and sick penchant for bourbon. “I’ll have one of you warm my bed once all of this shit is over.”

You pinned your breath to the roof of your mouth. Your loss for words wasn’t due to the ill-mannered man. It was from the brush of Tommy’s thumb against your skin. It was a comfort and an apology for how he would have to agree with the man to keep him at bay.

It was all a part of the plan you were slowly catching onto.

“A good lay is a good lay, isn’t it, Mr. Shelby?” The man prompted again, a gauge to know if the future alliance would be worth it.

“Exactly right.”

You could storm off, cause a scene. Your anger steeped deeper than that. It lived in your bones, morphing into something vindictive. You stayed the course and played your part willingly. The morals you lectured Tommy on didn’t matter anymore when all along he had the upper hand.

To the man, you were a plaything, someone who the conversation held no standing. The information would be forgotten, implied confidentiality,   as you’d move on to your next client. However, the further you orchestrated the conversation to continue, the more you learned.

The night was a business move, another party dosed in secrets and danger. You took in the man’s features, noting how he was aging, greys just starting to filter through his scalp. Your stomach turned, knowing there would be a bullet between his eyes by the end of the evening. The interaction was a courtesy.

Once alone again, you didn’t hesitate to move from Tommy’s shield. You felt dirtied.

“I can’t believe you.” You spat. “You’re incapable of—

“Enough.” Tommy’s words were low. He pinned you with a look alone, keeping you steady. “You want to run from me, but you can’t.” You battled with him until you lost. His face hardened like you were another associate. “It was him or you.”

[ghostfacesvalentine]

HALLOWEEN DAY 29: Lightweight - Dr Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Dr. Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Drinking, reader is slightly drunk, mentions of medication/prescriptions. Nothing crazy or graphic.

Type: One shot

Request: N/A

Word Count: N/A

Prompt: Halloween night at the club with Dr. Reid. The team goes and after the reader can’t handle themselves, Spencer makes sure they get home safely and eventually they confess their love for each other!

Notes: This has been in my drafts and I had to dust it off. I’ve wanted to post this for so long, maybe I should’ve finished it better or prolonged it? I was in the mood for fluff and here it is! I <3 Dr Reid 4 evaaa

The lights were flashing at all sorts of rates, all reflecting off the crowds movements. Colors overwhelmed the scene, different accessories poked and dropped to the floor as the movement remained constant. It wasn’t much of Dr. Reids ideal atmosphere, but you dragged him here.

You absolutely loved Halloween and wanted nothing more than to join the contests that would be held at the club downtown tonight.

Both Emily and Penelope thought it to be a fantastic idea, after pleading Reid to go with you three, your magic seemed to work. Now here you were, with a drink in hand, swaying from a distance as the remixed versions of well known songs infiltrated the speakers.

Spencer followed you around like a lost puppy, always close to you with his own drink being held against his chest. He was stiff as a board, watching the crowd when Penelope and Emily swayed around to the beat of the song, laughing and drinking their night away in cheesy but fierce costumes.

It was incredibly rare to have a moment like this without them being called away for a case, so you knew to enjoy it to the best of your ability.

Your hips bumped against Spencers when you noticed he seemed to be lost in thought. “Come on Reid, loosen up.” You groaned as your lips found their way to your straw, looking up to Spencer through your eyelashes.

His body language screamed uncomfortable and a part of you felt some remorse for insisting he should come with you. Your smile dropped when he looked away from you, turning around to put your drink down, you placed your hand on his shoulder in order to bring his ear down to your level “We don’t have to stay Spencer, we can go-”

Spencer pulled away from your grip to shake his head and look back to you “I’m perfectly fine, the music- I just don’t dance.”

Your eyes stayed on him, eyebrows forming a frown of concern for him. Wandering your gaze elsewhere, you noticed a group of girls, shooting their glances in your direction and you were more than certain they weren’t staring at you. A smirk drew across your face, after a few seconds, you bumped your elbow against Spencer and pointed your drink in their direction.

“I think they want to talk to you tiger.” You teased, your eyes looked to Spencer as he frowned. Anyone would be ecstatic to get the attention of a group of attractive women, but Spencer just seemed confused. “Come on Spence- we don’t get to have fun so often, I’m sure they don’t bite.”

“How are you sure? At least two of them have claws.” Spencer half joked back, which earned a chuckle from you. “Come on.” You grabbed his wrist and pulled him towards the groups direction. A smile was plastered across your face as you met up. “Hi, this is my friend Spencer, he has a few magic tricks he’d like to show you.” You hollered over the music to the group as you let go of his wrist then began to fade back into the crowd and towards your table.

A satisfied grin came across your lips when you noticed the wows and claps coming from where you left your coworker. Hugging yourself as you leaned back against the table, you looked back over to your other two friends who still continued to dance. A part of you wondered where they had this energy, you were exhausted, but you thought you’d have to sell your soul to have night off on Halloween night.

You reached up towards your head making sure your clip-on cow ears remained on your head. It was a last minute costume, easy to put together, cute as a button.

It seemed loneliness hit you harder than you would’ve thought and earlier than you expected. “Not tonight” You thought to yourself as you left the glasses at your table and made your way to Penelope. “Hey! Finally you join us?” She shouted as she continued her movements.

“Where did you leave Reid?” Emily looked around for any sign of him. only to have you shout back “With company!” Meeting each other with smiles, you continued to dance along in your small triangle. Reaching for Garcias hand, you held it as you continued your movements, not caring if it was at a rhythm or not, you were buzzed and having the best night in months.

Eventually the music would slow down, still sensual and loud, the bounce of the bass filled up the room, but the crowd would disperse to other bars or to refresh themselves. You decided upon one last song when Emily made her way to get you three another drink. The string of the bass was low and the vibrations rang through your ears, you were surely feeling the buzz a little bit more when a hand came to wrap around your wrist.

“Do you want me crawling back to you” The speakers sang at the touch of the other, your eyes looked to the hand, then up to connect it with a familiar face, “It’s time to go.” Emily smiled to you, surely sorry to interrupt your moment but also since she wouldn’t want any of you to leave alone tonight, not while the unsolved cases were being waited on for any other leads. Meanwhile she had to ensure you were all safe.

You ran your hand through your hair as you took the last drink of the night into your hands. “Y/n” You heard through the rumbling of the speakers as they picked up again on the beats. Looking around, you noticed another familiar face. “I’ll walk you to the cab.” A hand latched onto your wrist again, this time firmer, keeping you from bringing the drink up to your lips again.

Nodding slowly, as your eyes tried to connect to Spencers. You allowed him to take the glass from your hands and set it down on a table. He seemed worried about you, not letting you go from his grip. “I’ll make sure she gets home I promise.” You heard him from afar, a wave of sadness came over you.

Not again.

You were a lightweight, it was shameful to you, but you could never keep up with any of the team, two drinks and you were already questioning what you were seeing and where. Not to mention your orientation, never being able to clearly identify where you were headed exactly.

Instead, you leaned into the familiar hold beside you, comforted by it really. “Spence- you don’t have to. Really.” You protested as he lead you out into the front entrance of the club and down the sidewalk away from the line and crowd. Your brows forming a frown as you depended on his grasp as you walked, the alcohol was certainly kicking in again. Everything slowed around you, spun for a moment.

Thankfully Spencer cut you off before you could be unaware of your surroundings. “Don’t be silly, I want to make sure you’re home.” Your heart seemed to flutter when he assured his intentions. “Spence- w-what about the girls you were talking to?” You pouted as you tried to steady your steps along with him as you walked further down the street.

“I’ll come back to them.” He murmured as he tried to help you walk without making your intoxication too obvious. You couldn’t tell if he was joking or not, but you laughed, leaning into him your eyes seemed to hide as the walk continued for what seemed like an eternity.

“Y/n” You heard Spencer whisper out as he noticed your drowsiness. “Did you take your medicine before we came here?” He stopped you near one of the windows of the businesses you were walking past, away from the walking area. Holding you with both hands on either sides of your arms trying to meet your eyes.

“Shit.” You whined out when you looked down to his legs. You sure did, when you weren’t supposed to, not when you were going to drink anyway. “I’m an idiot.” You whimpered out to Spencer as you leaned your back against the glass.

“It’s okay, we just need to get you to bed, soon preferably.” Spencer held you up, hooking an arm under yours and wrapping around your back gripping you against his side as he took out his phone to call for a ride.

“We’ll be home soon.” Spencer soothed you as your feet seemed to give up on the heels you were wearing. Your purse dropped from your shoulder to your arm, trying your best to keep it on your person, Spencer laughed a little at your drowsiness. “It’s not funny Spencer.” You complained as a small laugh escaped your lips as he tried to keep you up with him, “It’s a little bit funny.” Spencer teased as he took his coat off to wrap around your bare shoulders,

“But my costume-” You whimpered as you looked down again to your uneven stance. “It’s still your costume, you’re just- a cold cow.” He snorted out as you wobbled slightly. Turning back to see the car pull over to the edge of the sidewalk for you both, Spencer lead you towards the door, opening it for you and letting you slide into the seat first, following after you.

The whole ride you just leaned over against his shoulder as Spencer instructed the directions. You were drifting in and out of sleep, making yourself comfortable on him. Sure you were intoxicated and in a way, drugged, under the influence but that didn’t cloud your vision on Dr. Reid.

He was such a lifesaver, well, obviously he was, he had saved countless lives and prevented many other tragedies along with his team but what would have you done without him tonight?

Emily and Penelope might’ve noticed a little too late, the guilt would’ve been everlasting. How did Spencer realize? He was busy, wasn’t he? Either way, you were more than glad he did. Your eyes focused on his hands, trying to ease your breathing as the ride continued.

Your sober brain would’ve never had the courage to initiate anything, but his hands looked so inviting. Even leaning your head against his shoulder was terribly comfortable, more than you’d like to admit.

Mindlessly, your hand reached to grab his fiddling one. This was a big no-no with Spencer, especially after a night at the club. He seemed shocked at first, stiffened, but you were half there anyway to acknowledge anything that may lead to your eternal embarrassment.

But your eyes stayed on his hands as he let your hand intervene. It was an innocent moment, but for the first time, you seemed to find comfort in him more than usual.

It was common for you to look for any sort of comfort in anyone you grew close to and this time it was the team that fell victim to it. Spencer being part of it, but tonight, you seemed to want to display any sort of affection towards him.

Spencer squeezed your hand as you began to reach your destination, you looked up to see your familiar street. The joy you felt couldn’t possibly be put into words. You watched as Spencer tipped the driver, thanking him as he opened the car door, helping you out and onto the sidewalk.

Though you were only a few steps away, you just couldn’t handle anymore steps in those heels. Reaching down to unbuckle them, you gripped yourself against him as you loosened them up. Spencer looked down to you, holding you in return as he watched you unstrap your platforms. He knew they must’ve been killing your feet, but before you could step on the pavement, he took the liberty to pick you up, “Grab your shoes.” He whispered as he hoisted you up bridal style up towards the entrance of your house.

“I don’t want you to get sick. If you can avoid walking around barefoot, it’s best to.” He explained as he walked. You were sure if you weren’t flustered before, you surely were now. Looking towards your knees as he led you to a stop, after a brief moment, you came to a realization- keys.

Rummaging through your purse you found them, doing your best to unlock the entrance as you were being held by Spencer. This all felt like a fever dream and you wouldn’t be surprised if it was.

Letting you push the door open, he stepped into your home, letting you down to your feet then closing the door behind you. “Why don’t you wash up tonight? You’ll sleep so much better.” Spencer advised as he made sure you were able to stand, but you simply stood there before him.

He looked so handsome, with tousled wavy hair, unbuttoned shirt, and loosened tie. Spencer went as Patrick Batman, but the hair product seemed to wear off halfway through the night, just as your costume was disheveled by the time you made it home.

Spencer frowned to you as you stared up to him in a daze, looking to your lips quickly then back up to your eyes when he realized what he did. A small sigh escaped your lips, you never thought about Spencer like this, why tonight? Not only did his touch seemed so inviting, but his affection did too. You wanted nothing more than to kiss him in this moment.

Your eyes stayed on him for a moment, neither of you said anything, instead just stood at your entrance in silence, just staring at each other. “What is it Y/N”

“How did you notice?” You wondered out loud, earning a confused gaze from the man. “That I was at my limit. How did you notice? You had your back turned, you were far away.” You continued as Spencer broke off the gaze and looked to the rug in front of your staircase. “Spencer.” You pleaded as he wouldn’t look at you for a moment.

He sighed and then looked back to you, pursing his bottom lip as his eyes met yours. “I talked to those girls you walked me over to.” He started, looking to you in defeat when he realized that wouldn’t be enough for you.

“And?” You continued as he stood still before you. “And I showed them a few magic tricks, because you told them about it.. but”

You stood there patiently, forgetting about the costume you had on, cow bell wrapped tightly around your neck, none of your accessories short of presence for the first couple of minutes you’ve made it in at home.

“I just came back to look at you.”

Your stomach was surely doing flips at this moment. For the first time you were left speechless for a moment. You frowned as you kept your eyes on him. “What do you mean Spence?”

“Y/n. I don’t want to talk to anyone at a club, I think it’s great that the rest of you do and you have fun. But I only went because of you. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Thank you Spencer, I really appreciate it, but I’m also a part of the team and I’m perfectly capable of looking after myself.” You protested as you leaned back, slightly taking offense to the comment coming from him.

“It’s not that you can’t take care of yourself, I know you are. But, I don’t know. I can’t help it. I don’t know what I’d do with myself if I let anything happen to you.”

There was a slight frustration coming from Spencer when you seemed to not catch on to what he was saying. You looked to him cluelessly and in desperation to want to understand.

“Y/n. I care about you. I feel better around you. I don’t know how to really explain it any other way than to say I really like you.”

You stood there in shock, almost sobered up by the sound of his words. You were sure your eyes were like saucers, even in your state you could still tell that Spencer was nervous as could be at his confession. He ached for any response but you just stood there for what seemed like hours.

“I really like you too Spence” you admitted, both awkward, in costumes and a little buzzed. It seemed like relief washed over his face for a second. Spencer looked down exhaling a breath he didn’t even know he was holding in.

“Would it be wrong to ask you to stay a little longer? If you’re not doing anything-“ you wondered out loud to break the prolonged silence.

“What? No yeah of course. I can stay.”

[sidekickjoey]

Not to care way too much for a TV sitcom character, but the more we hear from writers on the show about Eric Matthews and the turn the writing took him down in S6-7 and beyond (especially with his love life), I can't help but feel a little mournful for what he could've (and should've) been given by the narrative.

(Actually caring-too-much analysis below the cut)

(credit to @livelovecaliforniadreams for the gif!!)

On the most recent pod, we hear that part of the reason Eric never received a love interest beyond S4 really was because the writers sort of took the route of him "peaking" socially in high school, with his social prowess/game/etc. not really working in the same way it did then in college. For any other character, I think that could've maybe worked. But every other character is not Eric Matthews.

Eric, at his heart, is a sweet person. He makes mistakes and might not be the most book-smart, but the one thing he knows and has proven to be very intelligent on is people -- helping them, caring for them, making them feel seen, smile, you name it. He doesn't have a mean or cruel bone in his body and actually sacrifices his own happiness many times to ensure others are better off, because he doesn't know how to be otherwise. Hates it.

He also has so many talents and a broad swath of knowledge. Is it for more niche stuff at times? Sure. He might not be leading the next Fortune 500 company, but he demonstrates passion and drive -- two very amiable qualities people seek out in others. Hell, even Mr. Feeny noticed it when he said Eric was one of his brightest students. If academics weren't on the table, he had initiative and was there to do the best he could (just look at what he tried to do with meteorology). And are academics important? Yes. But character is so much stronger a quality, one not intrinsically tied to academic success mind you, and Eric had character.

On the topic of academics, Eric did go to and canonically graduate college -- the SAME college that Topanga and Rachel both end up going to instead of Yale, a highly respected institution. It's not like he's some bum or idiot like people claim him to be. Even at his perceived 'stupidest,' he was putting in the work, getting a college education, and receiving his degree DESPITE all of his shortcomings. If anything, I know times/values have changed, but I feel like him overcoming the odds as opposed to just giving up would've still made him even more of an attractive prospect back then as it would've made him now.

Then there's the fact that, canonically, Eric is perceived as a very attractive and handsome guy by MULTIPLE people, all of different backgrounds, looks, interests, etc. Attraction beyond looks varies from person to person, but looks are a little less variable. You don't just suddenly turn ugly to a whole population when you go to a new place. S5 Eric was not a far cry from S4 Eric. Hell, even S7 Eric is not a far cry from his other looks. Everyone's convinced S6 was Eric's peak look™ too, and that was right in the middle of his college career. All other facts about Eric aside and any faults totally disregarded, you're telling me not a single person saw him and though, huh, I want to take this guy on a few dates? That he'd still fall off the market so starkly to go from dating a new girl every week to having almost zero new serious prospects for nearly four years?

This all said, it begs the following questions:

Why would S5-GMW Eric be any less deserving of a satisfying love life then than S1-4 Eric?

Why would S5-GMW Eric be any less destined to find post-high school success than S1-4 Eric?

This brings me to where I sit now, sort of sad for the character of Eric. Because I think his ability to find love was lazily or incorrectly (or both) tied to his struggles in high school, and then exaggerated heavily when the show was later in need of laughs and someone even wackier than Cory's wackier college persona to serve as a foil. He was set up to be punished for doing exactly everything asked of him, because a character like his was useful to have in one's back pocket, but his character itself was too much extra effort to flesh out fully and give redemption/happiness to without him straying too close to replacing Cory as /the/ main character. It's a lot funnier to have a character regress into being a bit of a loser and struggling socially than finding success and getting everything he worked so hard to achieve, after all (I say, with heavy sarcasm).

Eric was deserving of love. He was deserving of success. He was even incredibly smart. Maybe I'll be proven wrong at some point in the future and I'll see that he was just destined to be Dumb!Eric, alone, stumbling his way into a senatorship, continuing to be all laughs with a touch of heart. That day isn't today, though. As far as I'm concerned, the path the writers took him down might as well have been a more unrealistic and wildly undeserved path for him than had they made him incredibly successful.

[authorred]

Astarion headcanons because it's been too long and I love this man | Astarion x GN!Reader

Preface: Astarion, as complex as he tries to make himself out to be, is really a simple vampire. There are many ways to make him yours, and all of them don't require rocket science.

THIS MAN DESERVES THE WORLD--also it has been like 8 months since I last posted but shhhh

Warning(s): None

Don't talk about his bite mark scars much, if at all. It doesn't necessarily bother him, but he'd rather not talk about it

If you're an artist of some kind and you draw him, he'll try to brush it off by acting grandeur and arrogant, but internally he'll be twirling his hair and blushing

If you draw what you believe he looked like before being turned he won't react the same way, but he'll stare at it (maybe to try to remember?)

It's no secret that Astarion has sexual trauma. I don't think he'd do well with hypersexuality or someone who wants sex a lot

I don't think he'd mind you being sexually attracted to him--he wouldn't blame you smh--it's not a deal breaker for him

Personally, I think he'd do better if any sexual attraction came second

Like he's said, he needs time to do anything intimate. Not that he'd never do it again, but every time he did it in the past it was for an ulterior motive (or against his will)

He needs a friend first, partner second

Show him he's worth more than his seduction and body

Moonlit night dates

Massage his ears when he sleeps on you

Kiss his wrinkles and laugh lines--softly, chastely

Handle him gently

Do not even think about adding a third to your friendship/relationship. Astarion has most likely never had someone to himself, that would definitely make him feel unworthy/not good enough

Making him slightly jealous might be okay but tell him you find it cute when he's slightly jealous, and you appreciate it. Assure him that it's okay.

After having his guard up for so long it's natural he'll feel uncomfortable being vulnerable--assure him

Assure him a lot. Tell him his feelings are valid and that he's not wrong for feeling x

When he loves you, he loves you wholly. Any sexual feelings he has will come way down the line

When they do, go so slowly. You cannot be impatient, otherwise he'll shirk away, and the relationship will change

I think Astarion would flourish better in a majority nonsexual relationship (sorry x, he's sexy af but his lore and boundaries are more important than his rail-ability)

Compliment him a lot--not anything superficial--compliment him. Compliment him like how you'd want to be complimented by someone you love

If you can, write him poems

If you're going to inevitably die before Astarion; when you start to age he won't love you less--he'll love you more

Your health will always come before his

If you're sick he'll take care of you for the most part

If you're in danger, even if you can handle yourself, your survival is always number 1 to him

Will sacrifice himself for you

Won't accept the opposite, but knows he can't stop you if you did

Would be devastated if you died for him

Genuinely would never get over it

I don't think he'd want to get married in the traditional sense but he would 100% want to do something to prove his commitment

FLOWER CROWN MAKE THIS MAN A FLOWER CROWN

Please just be so patient with him

Don't treat him like fragile glass, but don't be rough with him either

PROTECT HIM AT ALL COSTS

Hug him a lot. He needs it

[emeritusemeritus]

Spellbound [Fred Weasley x Ravenclaw!Reader]

Title: Spellbound.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Ravenclaw!Reader

Timeline: Non-specified, no mention of canonical events but I pictured OOTP as I was writing.

Summary: Sick of how his twin’s devastating crush on you is affecting his Quidditch abilities, George takes matters into his own hands and meddles.

Warnings: Use of a love potion, essentially dubious consent. Pining, crushes, probably minor swearing. Fred’s a love sick puppy. Questionable morality on George’s behalf. Not beta read.

Word count: 2.7k

This was inspired by a lovely Anon request I was sent, original post here. I hope this is what you were looking for, I enjoyed working on this so much! 💙

George Weasley was one half of the infamously disruptive Weasley twins; usually mentioned second and hardly able to be distinguished from his slightly older twin to those that didn't really know him. To those that did, his identifying qualities included being slightly quieter, more patient, more understanding and perhaps more moral... sometimes. Though it was never said aloud, he was the slightly better Quidditch player with a slightly better aim and was arguably more passionate about the game than his twin. He had more focus at least, which was never more obvious than during this season of Quidditch when Fred had been mightily distracted through most of the games, missing bludgers an amateur could have hit and earning more fouls in one season than he had in his entire time on the team. His reason? He had a crush. An almighty crush on you which made him distracted, inattentive, sometimes irritable and almost constantly mopey.

George was perceptive by nature and had picked up on his brother's infatuation not long after it began, noticing that Fred's attention was often pulled away as soon as you'd walk into the great hall or class. Didn't matter that they were in the middle of a conversation or a tactful sale, in you'd walk and out would go Fred's sanity. George couldn't deny that you were pretty, you'd turned his head a few times, not that he'd ever admit that to his brother, but the affect you had on Fred was almost laughable. He was certain he'd seen his brother drool once over you, the hearts in his love-stricken puppy eyes almost making George want to laugh and vomit at the same time.

When he wasn't pining for you in ways George could hardly fathom, Fred was often touchy and sulky at the unrequited nature of his crush. If he saw another bloke talking to you or making you laugh, he'd be insufferable for the rest of the day, shooting daggers at the culprit and threatening under his breath to set off a dung bomb in the unsuspecting lad's dorm.

To make matters worse, you'd started attending Quidditch games regularly when Ron made Keeper in support of your friend and also as support for Hermione so that she wouldn't have to sit alone with her two best friends on the pitch, despite being a Ravenclaw. Many people went to support their friends and as long as they weren’t competing against your house you figured it was fair game to support them. You'd also infrequently started attending practice sessions with Hermione, sitting in the stands or on the side lines where you would spend most of the time studying or drawing. It was a double edged sword for the team if you showed up or not; if you didn't, Fred would mope about and keep checking that you hadn't arrived late during the entire time on the pitch. If you did show, he'd spend the time trying to impress you with comical dives on his broom, outlandish tricks and almost everything exactly fulfilling his actual role to get your attention.

So George came up with a plan. One night when they were restocking the skiving snack boxes and checking on their slow-brewing potions, he'd come up with a plan that was admittedly a little immoral but should surely work. Tensions had risen between the twins after Fred had received another avoidable foul causing them to nearly lose the match and George had walked out of the changing rooms in a huff to start on the restocking, not wanting to hear Fred waxing poetic about how fit you looked in your jumper or how loudly you were cheering for him the few times during the match he'd actually played well.

George was sick of listening to it and it pushed him to a point when his plan seemed to be the only choice.

The next morning George had woken Fred early, dragging his half asleep twin out of bed to get to the Great Hall bright and early, the older of the two still dishevelled from sleep and rubbing his eyes, grumpy to boot.

"Don't see why you're dragging me down at this time, not like they'll run out of food," Fred complained grumpily as he tried to fall into step with George who seemed to be walking at a faster than normal pace down the staircases. About halfway down the staircases, Fred noticed that his jumper was back to front and had fixed it with a huff and a yawn, battling the wool over his wide shoulders.

"Told you, I'm starving," George replied vaguely with a shrug, a small smirk tugging at his lips as he turned away from Fred to conceal it.

They took a seat at the table and once again Fred complained as he saw hardly anyone up yet except for a few Ravenclaws huddled together on the other side, talking in hushed but excited whispers. Fred begrudgingly accepted a glass of pumpkin juice from George and simply looked at the few slices of toast in front of him, his stomach still asleep. So consumed by his tiredness he didn't even notice that George hadn't taken a bite of any food even after five minutes, despite his prior claims of being starving. Fred sat in a gloomy slump at the table, head in his hands and staring down at the table, if his eyes were open at all whereas George kept his eyes trained on the open door in a much more jovial mood.

"Morning," your voice rang out quietly but pleasantly. George had to physically place his hand over his mouth to conceal the laughter that was threatening to burst out of him watching Fred's reaction to your voice. It was like he'd been electrocuted or at least unknowingly stunned as his head shot up, elbow banging on the table as it slid off the edge of the wooden table as his head whipped up to look at your face.

"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you," you said with a timid smile and a little laugh before taking a seat beside George. You’d usually sit with the other Ravenclaws but as it was so quiet this morning you figured you would sit with the twins.

"You're up early," George says with a smile, offering you the jug of pumpkin juice, which you gladly accepted. Fred had said nothing but his pink cheeks were talking all by themselves, though you didn't seem to notice.

"Wanted to take a long walk around the grounds this morning," you reply after taking a sip of the juice that George had poured for you. "I've been trying to do more exercise lately... it's always so pretty in autumn so it's not as horrible getting up early."

"Why?" Fred says, finally speaking. He regrets it the instant your eyes fall upon him, realising that the word had tumbled out of his mouth before he could even think, his tone a little sharp and defensive, as if it was an unnatural thing to do. "I meant, about the exercise."

"Oh, well I guess it's good for my head," you explained, placing down your cup. "And the waist line, I feel like I put on a stone every term with how good the food is." George chuckles along, finally helping himself to the breakfast food in front of him but you notice that Fred hardly reacts.

"I know what you mean, if it wasn't for Quidditch I'd probably be the size of a troll."

Your laugh renders Fred even more speechless than he already was, so much so that he'd accepted his fate as forever mute at this point.

"Well thank Godric for Quidditch," you say with a smile. Fred doesn't miss the way your gaze suddenly flashes over him, most notably his arms as he lifts the cup to his lips, making him choke into his juice. It was the first time he'd ever noticed your gaze slip over him so obviously.

"Must be tough being a beater, those bludgers must be really heavy," you say, your gaze hardly moving from Fred's arms, up and across his shoulders before slipping down again. He couldn't believe you were looking at him like this, especially when your eyes travelled up to his face and you caught his eyes. You didn't look embarrassed or look away, simply gave him a playful smile before addressing his twin again as he replied to you. Fred was dreaming, he must be.

But the attention didn't stop. Fred didn't know what had changed that morning but he started noticing little things like how you'd catch his eye when you walked into a room, like you were seeking him out, or if he gazed over at you it was only time before you would look in his direction too. He no longer had to pretend that you were cheering the loudest for him at Quidditch matches because you actually were, and noticeably so. You still attended practice sessions infrequently but you no longer kept your head down and in your books, now you were actually watching the team practice, though it appeared you were really only concerned by one half of the beater duo.

George's plan had worked. Fred was in a good mood more consistently, played better during Quidditch as he was actually focused on the game and no longer trying to get your attention as he already had it. Sure he was still grouchy if another male approached you but he didn't feel quite as bad about it when you would seek him out mid conversation, as if you wished it to be him instead.

"I'm gonna ask her out," Fred says one night as they enter their dorm, throwing off his big jumper and leaving it on a pile on the floor beside his bed.

"Maybe you should wait until after this season mate, only two more matches to go if we carry on playing well," George says delicately, taking off his own jumper but instead choosing to fold it onto the chair beside his bed unlike his sloppy twin. He watches as Fred's face scrunches up in displeasure at his words but he doesn't immediately question them, taking time to think about it.

"Yeah maybe," Fred says eventually, reaching don under his bed to pull out the large tray of stock they had stashed, mainly the slicing snack box stuff.

The two of them restocked and replenished the stock they had on hand for a while, completely ignoring all homework before they slipped down to the common room later that night.

"Gonna check the potions," George whispers in Fred's ear before slipping off, leaving him with Lee in the common room.

If Fred noticed anything off about George when he gets back, he doesn’t mention it. But George can feel it, the sense of dread and guilt, exactly what he didn’t want to happen was coming to fruition. He realised then that he’d have to break it to Fred, admit what he’d done.

“You coming mate?” Fred asks, grabbing his quidditch stuff ready to head to the pitch but pauses when he sees George sat on his bed, not making an effort to move. He looks sad, distressed even.

“What’s up? You didn’t eat all those Bertie boys did you?”

“Fred,” George says quietly, eyes slowly rising up until he’s looking into the all too familiar eyes of his twin. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

For the first time in history, Fred and George Weasley weren’t speaking. It was their first proper fall out, first argument and the first time in history that they hadn’t been wandering the corridors of Hogwarts together, causing mayhem or mischief but no one knew why. The tension between the pair was awful for them and everyone around them. Then suddenly, they were back together again even though it was still tense and not at all like it was before, they found their way back to eachother.

“Y/n,” Fred says from behind you, pulling you away from your conversation as the Ravenclaw table, your friends looking on curiously as you turned with a smile to see Fred behind you looking a little nervous.

“Hi Freddie,” you say with a smile, having missed him.

“Can I borrow you?”

You nod, turning to your friends to say bye and got up from the table and followed him out of the Hall, thinking how strange he was acting. He leads you up the staircases with little explanation and manages to sneak you up into his dorm through the portrait hole, something you couldn’t believe he managed to do.

When you walked into his dorm, you saw George sitting on the bed you assumed to be his, the room a little untidy but not awful.

“George?” You say, worried about the sad look on his face. He gives you a little smile and a brief wave as Fred closes the door behind you.

“What’s a matter? What’s going off?” You say, looking between the two. Fred offers you a seat on the nearby bed you assume to be his and he sits beside you, both now looking nervously at George.

“George has something he wants to tell you,” Fred says, casting a rather harsh glare at his brother, tone sharp and resolute. George takes a deep breath, clearing his throat as he looks up at you.

“I,” he manages to get out, but shuts down the moment he opens his mouth, apparently losing all the words he needed.

“It’s okay Georgie,” you say gently, trying to give him confidence.

“No it’s not,” Fred retorts in a much harsher tone. Your head whips round to him and he softens as he looks at you.

“He’s been giving you love potion,” he says, nodding his head towards his guilt stricken twin. Your mouth falls open in disbelief, a frown pulling at your eyebrows as you try your hardest to think of how it was possible.

“But.”

“I didn’t really mean to,” George says weakly but quickly changes his wording when Fred’s glare increased threefold. “Okay I did but not with any malicious intent. He’s bloody obsessed with you and I couldn’t stand the pining anymore, it was insufferable. He wasn’t focusing when you were at Quidditch and I just wanted him to focus again so I thought if you gave him attention back then he’d have his head back in the game and it worked.”

“George!” You say completely outraged, in disbelief that he’d have actually done that. “Stop it right now! It’s not funny.”

He frowns at you briefly, just quick enough for you to see as he looks between you both.

“I haven’t given you any in over a week,” he says curiously, “I ran out last week.”

The room is silent after his reveal as you start to slowly realise that even if you had been given the love potion initially, being without it hadn’t actually changed your feelings of Fred.

“You’re obsessed with me?” You ask, turning to Fred who looks like he wants the ground to swallow him up.

“I wouldn’t have said obsessed… but yeah, I really fancy you,” he says, not quite meeting your eyes. It’s a split second decision that leads you to closing the gap between the two of you, legs touching as you scoot along his bed and slowly lean in to him, trying to gage his reaction. He doesn’t resist in the slightest and finally looks up into your eyes just long enough to realise what’s happening before your eyes close and your lips meet.

George slips out quietly with a pleased look on his face, knowing that everything would be alright in the end. He walks down to the little store room where they brew their potions and he smirks to himself when he sees the still very full cauldron of love potion simmering, the pearlescent pink glow radiating from it.

You’d believed him to easily, both you and Fred. And if he had to take the hit for a little while, it was worth it.

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