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bittermuire · 2 years

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Be the first who ever did

unhappily married nessian one-shot, angst, hurt/comfort, nesta is sick

“Okay,” Cassian says, brushing by her, “I’m off. I’ll see you tonight at Helion’s.” He grabs his coat off the rack and swings it around his shoulders. “Don’t be late, alright? Six o’clock.”

Nesta leans against the kitchen counter and nods. She’s never late. She’d be excommunicated by her husband’s friends—not that she’d really mind. He puts his hand on her shoulder and brushes a kiss to her forehead. “Bye,” she says, but his back is turned and he’s pretty much gone.

Without him and his interruptions, his footsteps on the penthouse floor, the place is coldly quiet. Nesta pads to the bathroom and starts to run water for a bath. It’s too cold today to do anything, and her head hurts, anyway. Sometimes Feyre will call and ask her to take care of Nyx, but there’s been no hurried voicemail today, no blinking time on the phone, and she knows the rest of the day will pass in the way of most others: slow, like molasses, tired and dripping, until someone cleans it up in time for the party, the dinner, the gala, the whatever. She puts a hand to her head and fumbles around in the cabinet for painkillers. After she takes a bath she’ll figure out what she’s going to wear tonight.

Out of the bath, she only feels worse. She pins up her hair and ties her robe, then goes to the guest room where she keeps all her clothes. There’s a lot of clothes. Being married to the general of the Night Court gives her a lot of money and a lot of time and a lot of clothes. Numbly she looks through the racks, head spinning.

After three failed attempts at putting an outfit together she shrugs on a pair of pajamas and falls into bed. Just a nap. Then she’ll be fine. It’s a party at Helion’s which means she’ll be flirted with relentlessly. Despite having a mate.

She hugs a pillow to her chest. Despite having a mate she’ll have to smile. All the time for hours. She’ll have to drink. “I thought,” she mumbles, in the morning-hazy room, “they’d have to back off once I got a mate.”

Then she drifts off. Ill at ease in some middle distance.

A horrible screeching noise wakes her up—she jolts up, heart hammering in her chest. It’s just her phone. It buzzes incessantly on the other side of the bed. She grabs around for it and mutters, “Hello?”

“Nesta?” It’s Cassian, against the backdrop of a hundred laughing, glittery voices. “Where are you? It’s six-fifteen.”

She sits up with a hiss. Her whole body hurts. “Oh, shit. Sorry. I’m—”

“You okay?”

“Yeah.” She swallows, her throat thick. “I was taking a nap and I think—I’ll be there in like, thirty minutes. Just need to get cleaned up.”

There’s a long moment of silence, filled in with the clinking of glasses, small greetings, buoyant laughter. Nesta can see it all in her mind’s eye; how she’s going to endure it tonight, she doesn’t know. She skipped the last party, feigning period cramps. She can’t skip this one.

“No,” he says finally. “No, stay there. You don’t sound good.”

She pauses. “You sure?”

“Yeah, of course. Helion can survive a night without seeing you.”

She laughs a little, relieved. “Okay. See you tonight.”

“Love you.”

She pretends not to hear and hangs up. Two words, very rarely three, one of those rare hallmark signs of the absence of the thing it says it is. He says it to her quite a bit, like a punctuation of their daily life. Love you, he says, as he goes out the door. Love you, he says, as he kisses her shoulder. Love you, he says. He just says it. She used to go to therapy to figure out what this horrible blankness in her is. Not even like a black hole, vengeful and destructive, but just nothing. Blank and unwritten and crumpled up.

She has, by all the standards that matter, a perfect life. She has a college degree she’s never had to put to use. She’s married to a wealthy, handsome, talented member of the Inner Circle, who’s also her mate. She has lots of clothes and lots of time. She has a cute little nephew who likes to go to museums as much as she does. She has a perfect life. Sometimes she sits in the searing hot bath and prays it’ll cut through to her blank-empty heart.

Love you.

Something. Something.

She pulls the comforter up to her chin and shuts her eyes, head pounding, head spinning.

She opens her eyes blearily to a warm hand on her forehead, a figure bending over her. “Nesta,” he whispers. Cassian brushes her hair back and drops to a knee by the bed, brushing a kiss to her temple. “You’re burning up.”

She blinks a few times to get the sleep out of her eyes. She feels horrible, much worse than she did before. “What’re you doing here? What about the party?”

“You didn’t sound good. I wanted to check on you.” He frowns, eyes tracking all over her face. “Have you eaten today?”

She shakes her head with a small sigh.

“Okay. I’ll make some soup.”

Dipping in and out of sleep, she barely makes out his retreating figure in the dark room, the sounds he makes in the kitchen, the painful brightness of the lamp he turns on as he comes back in. “Can you sit up?” he asks her quietly, holding a tray. He places it over her lap once she gets settled.

“Thanks,” she says.

If he responds she can’t hear. He hovers awkwardly in the room, eyes darting around. “Want to watch a movie? Or something? Or can I get you a book?”

She blows over the bowl of steaming soup and shakes her head. “No, that’s okay.” It is a little odd to have him around. In the rare instances where she gets sick, it’s a carefully concealed fact, contained to specific hours when Cassian isn’t around. Even her period is something she keeps secret. Not secret, but separate, rather. She doesn’t like to bother him with her vulnerabilities. He seems to share the sentiment. If he ever gets sick, she hasn’t seen it.

But she doesn’t feel good, and the soup is warm. She looks up at him in his dress pants and button-down, suit jacket cast off somewhere, dark hair made a mess by his hands. She pats the bed and smiles a little. “Sit down and tell me about what happened tonight.”

He grins, kicking off his shoes by the door and coming around to the other side of the bed. “Not a whole lot. You wouldn’t have liked it.”

“Really?” She takes another bite.

“Yeah. It was just… loud and busy and—”

“Fun?” She offers, smiling. He looks at her and laughs, a soft sound.

“Kind of. You know Helion. Anything he organizes is a spectacle. But you weren’t there,” he says matter-of-factly, “so there wasn’t much point in staying.”

Nesta blinks. She blows over the spoon.

He doesn’t really say things like that. Sure, there’s the love you, love you, but beyond that there isn’t much love, much affection, in their marriage. The mating bond is an old world mechanism of power and magic, and most power and magic has been collected and put in museums. Just last week Nesta went and saw Ataraxia, the great silver sword. There was once a time when it was wielded in battle, the same time when a mating bond might have been useful—but the bond clicked during her junior year of university, the only battles and woes being long nights and horrid professors.

And what choice did either of them have? To simply move on was unthinkable. Nesta was in the worst state of her life then. And Cassian was older, and rich, and handsome, and had everything. His best friend was married to her sister. They were mates, they were meant to be. He knelt down in front of her with a ring. Maybe it was really love, at some point. Maybe it was real. She had nothing and he had everything, and he had such strong arms she thought could hold her and put her back together. But now—

“I don’t know if this crossing the line,” he says, and clears his throat. He looks straight ahead and leans his head back on the headboard. “But I told Helion to leave you alone.”

Nesta turns and stares at him. He looks at her too, eyes flicking over her face.

“Sorry. I just thought that at the last dinner he was making you uncomfortable.”

“No, that’s okay.” She pulls her hair over her shoulder and tugs at it. She didn’t think he’d noticed. Helion, of course, had monopolized her attention as he always did, and though he seemed harmless he was also exhausting. She’d looked for Cassian across the table and had been surprised to see that he was already looking. “He was. A little.”

“Has he always been like that?” asks Cassian, and she’s surprised by the undercurrent of hardness in his voice.

“Yeah.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

She shakes her head, starting to scowl. “Because he’s your—friend. He’s always around. You just want me to say that I don’t like being around him?”

Cassian looks at her like she’s grown two heads. “Yes. Why wouldn’t you?”

He doesn’t get it. He wouldn’t ever get it. She’s always been the problem: Nesta, with her unwashed hair in her dirty, cheap apartment, with her patchy resumé and hopeless future. Who was going to hire her? Then he showed up. A rare chance, misshapen with reality.

She looks away. “Forget it,” she says flatly.

“No, I don’t—”

“I said forget it,” she snaps, and his mouth shuts quickly before his brow furrows in something like frustration or confusion. She swallows and looks away. They were doing well moments before. “Let’s just turn on a movie or something.”

He takes the remote and puts on the first decent thing he finds. Katharine Hepburn stalks through the house with a face twisted up in irritation and Nesta shovels soup into her mouth, only half watching. She’s seen this one. She can’t remember its name.

For how good the soup is, it doesn’t help much once the credits are rolling. Her skin is hot to the touch and her head is thick and pounding. Seeing her discomfort, Cassian moves the tray off her lap and takes it to the kitchen. She burrows under the comforter.

“Can I get you anything?” he asks her quietly, leaning against the doorframe. “Do you just want to go to sleep?”

She shakes her head irritably. “Can’t sleep.”

“I can—” he moves to the dresser where Nesta keeps a stack of her favorite books, and holds up one. None other than The Hobbit. “I can read to you.”

About to rebuke him, she imagines, for a moment, what that would be like. She’s always liked his voice. Low and even and reliable. Closing her eyes, she sighs loudly and says, “Okay.”

“Okay.” She can hear the smile in his voice, and feels the bed dip as he settles on his other side again. “Chapter one. Here we go.”

But before he can begin she jerks up, fixing him with a glare.

His mouth twitches. “What?”

“You just don’t get it,” she says flatly. Propping herself up on her elbow, she studies his face, the smooth lines, the shadow of stubble, the dark incisive eyes. The mouth, quirked, full and familiar in more ways than one. In her more particularly self-loathing moments, she hates his face. Now she just wants to look at it. “You don’t get it at all.”

“Enlighten me,” he says, letting The Hobbit fall shut.

“People like Helion are everywhere.” The words spill out before she can grasp them back. Only a little of something flickers in his eye, but he puts it out quickly, listening and watching. She looks away and tries to explain. “Everywhere. Nice guys. Fun guys. They throw parties and think themselves superior because they go to the gym and dress well. They talk circles around those of us who are less witty, and enjoy themselves.” She scowls. “And when you’re pretty like me, these guys just swarm. And you, Cassian—” his eyes widen slightly— “you and Rhys and Azriel are surrounded by these guys and because I’m married to you, I see them all the time. I have to deal with them. All the time. And I can’t say a thing because I am perpetually on thin ice.”

He frowns. “What?”

“I’m on thin ice.”

“What does that even mean?” he says, exasperated. “That’s not true, Nesta!”

She looks down, a familiar burning working its way around her nose and behind her eyes. Does he really just not remember? She feels like the one girl in a Victorian novel who spooks at invisible things, the one everyone else whispers about behind their hands. The crazy one.

Three years ago, Nesta’s apartment was in boxes. She was wearing her favorite faded blue jeans, her soft gray shirt. She’d just washed her hair. On her left pinky finger was the ring her first boyfriend, Wil from third grade, had given her. She wore it whenever she was nervous, whenever she wanted evidence that someone loved her, had loved her. It was silly but days like those were all about getting to the end of them. Superstitions and expired memories and all.

Nesta had decided to get married. On her left ring finger was a simple square cut diamond, pretty, elegant.

Technically Cassian had made the decision. He’d picked the ring, decided where to kneel, specified the bush for the photographer to hide in. But Nesta had decided.

That horrible day. Cornered in her own apartment. Her little sister and her too-tall husband, Lord of Night, sitting on her couch. Her stringy hair, unwashed dishes, stacks of books, piles of laundry—Nesta, look at yourself. We’re here because we care. You need help.

I don’t need help, she’d seethed. Certainly not from you.

It had ended, inevitably, with cow-eyes and the mentioning of his name. Cassian—

Something about her being selfish. Him being patient. That he wanted to take care of her. That he loved her and was hurting and it was something she could fix. So when they left she called him and that week she had sex with him after a candlelit dinner and months later he knelt down and held up a ring and put it on her finger.

Nesta, I love you.

Her apartment was in boxes and her hands were shaking, had been shaking for hours. She’d placed a certain dependance on his loving her. She was getting married in three days—the dress was hanging up in Elain’s closet—the ring, the goddamn ring, on her finger—a cracked door in the townhouse, two voices, hushed, angry, low—I never asked to be shackled to her—Just marry her, Cassian, for god’s sake—the swerving drive back to her apartment in boxes and her hands shaking, shaking for hours.

It wasn’t as though she was unwilling to fall in love. She thought she might give it a try after the whole business of the honeymoon was over. She thought the routine of domesticity might win her over, the anti-depressants, the quiet.

And it wasn’t as though she hated him. She liked him from the start, to be honest. In the suffocating dining room he was a rare warm glow, a slow-blinking eye, an unasking gentleness. For a year he stood beside her. Put food on her plate. Filled her glass. Listened to her when she spoke, an unwavering attention on what she offered, when she offered it. God, she was only twenty!—she’d known him only a year, something like care, like tenderness, like fondness, like love, beating in her chest when she saw him—when she tripped on the stairs and he caught her and something she’d only read about in textbooks slammed fiercely into her heart. Mates.

That’s where it all ended, she supposed. And that’s where the budding feelings, the motivation to be better, were stubbed out. What’s the point? she used to think. We’re chained to each other. No matter who we are and what we do.

And his feelings, his motions, his attempts to romance her, went stale. She couldn’t purge the thought that he didn’t actually want her. It was only duty. Responsibility. They were mates, no matter who they were or what they did.

I never asked to be shackled to her.

Nesta married him with a dry throat, with cold and sweaty hands. She honeymooned with him in Adriata, sat on the warm sand and let him kiss her mouth, tangy and tasting of wine. She moved into his penthouse suite. She bought all the clothes she couldn’t before and wore them to dinners and galas and auctions and fundraisers. She became a socialite, just like her sisters, just like her husband. She dealt with their friends. She swallowed all the hurt, all the bitterness, all the anger. She stopped yelling and shrieking and hissing and sneering. The strength to fight went somewhere she couldn’t find. She dealt with it, with being married to him; a tender truce, she knew he felt the same, and that only made it worse.

“It means,” she says, as coldly as she can manage with a wobbling lower lip, “that I’m the rude bitch you had to marry and I have to be reminded of it every day.”

He sighs, brow drawn tight, and looks down.

She clenches her jaw and refuses to cry.

“You’re not a rude bitch,” he tells her quietly, and looks up at her, his eyes piercing. “You’re wonderful. And I didn’t have to marry you, I wanted to.” A tear slips unbidden down her cheek and he wipes it away, his gaze unbearably, burningly soft. “What’s up with you?”

Shaking her head, she sits up and lays her head against the headboard. Her mouth hangs open as she tries to find the words. For so long she’s been angry—at who, she has no idea. She’s never hated him in the truest sense. She’s hated that she can’t hate him. And now he sits here beside her in their bed, her book in his hands, concern all over his face, concern and care; what would it be like to be loved, really loved? To be told the truth?

The truth, dreadful and true:

She starts to cry. Horrible, embarrassing, stuttering sobs. Her chest heaves and her head pounds and her skin burns as she cries, can’t stop crying.

“Nesta,” he says, sounding alarmed, unsure—then his arms are around her and she smells his cologne and it calms her down, somewhat. “It’s okay,” he murmurs. “It’s okay.” He says it over and over. He strokes her hair. She hiccups and chokes on her own spit and sobs and listens to his heart.

As she quiets, he pulls her closer, if possible. He holds her tight to his chest. He rests his chin on the top of her head. She closes her eyes, listens to his heart, and tries to breathe.

“I’m fine,” she says, and sniffles pathetically. Her head spins. “I’m fine.”

He strokes her hair, running his fingers through to the very dead ends. “You’re fine,” he echoes, a rumble in his chest. I know you’re not fine, he seems to say, and she’s grateful that he doesn’t.

They sit there like that for a while, Nesta cocooned in his arms, gathered close. His hand rubs up and down her back. He traces patterns. She keeps her eyes closed but feels him press a kiss to her hair, the lightest brush against her temple. All the while she doesn’t move. If she moves the whole thing will break. They’ll never find their way back again and this will be another one of those expired memories, without physical evidence, no evidence at all.

“Will you talk to me?” he asks finally, a hint of pleading in his voice. He doesn’t let her go or pull away. His breath ruffles her hair. “Will you tell me what’s going on, so I can help?”

She tenses and his arms squeeze slightly. Oddly enough, it doesn’t feel like she’s being trapped, forced to talk, forced to be held—it’s something different and maybe better.

“It’s stupid,” she says hoarsely.

“That’s okay.”

She takes a long, shaky breath. “I just wish that you could—” She breaks off, unable to say it. The truth, dreadful and true.

But he waits. But he holds her and waits and rubs her back, drawing pictures.

“I just wish that you could really love me,” she mutters, like it’s some stupid piece of gossip. He goes deathly still.

Looking into his eyes now, of all times, would be the worst. She keeps herself securely tucked under his chin and prays he won’t move.

“I do. I do love you.” His voice is thick. Insistent.

But she’s past believing him and too much time has passed. She sighs and says, “Don’t lie to me, Cassian, not about this.” His arms tighten at that but before he can say anything, she pushes herself off his chest and winces at the tear stains on his nice white button-down. “I’ve ruined your shirt,” she says. “Sorry.”

“Nesta—”

“I’m taking a bath,” she says lightly. His hands drop from her arms as she clambers off the bed. “Thanks for the soup.” She doesn’t look at him.

“Nesta,” he calls, but her back is turned and she can’t look back.

Looking at him now would be the worst thing of all.

nessian angst so true!!!!

I really did helion dirty in this but to be fair I feel like he WOULD take liberties with someone like nesta. men like that😒

#nessian #nessian fic #nesta archeron #nessian angst

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haechanhues · 3 years

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Like Unrequited

Part ONE | Part TWO | Part THREE | Part FOUR

pairing : heeseung x fem!reader / sunghoon x fem!reader

genre : angst/fluff. bulleted.

warnings : unrequited crush. slight feelings of awkwardness and abandonment. ambiguous relationship though - especially towards the end.

summary : how to confess to someone who doesn’t feel the same.

‘I like you, Heeseung’

All you could see was his eyes

How they enlarged at the words you just spluttered

He hesitated

And at that the world seemed to rush down your throat and rob you of the air in your lungs

Uh.

But still the hope in your stomach flickered like a small fire

A small pathetic little fire

‘I-I….I don’t see you in that way Y/N...I’m sorry.’

Heeseung didn’t smile as he said that

But he squeezed at your shoulder to anchor you down to the reality of it all

You liked Heeseung

And he didn’t like you back

All those teenage movies you watched in an attempt to motivate you seemed to laugh at you

All those beautiful actresses and all those beautiful actors planting the seed of false hope in the victims of love unrequited

‘That’s okay?’

You smiled.

I’m sure you’ve never seen yourself wear the most bullshit smile you’ve ever bullshitted

Heeseung smacked his lips together and warmly smiled at you

‘I’ll see you at school tomorrow, okay?’

Uh.

‘..Maybe. I might just, uh- hang out in the library for a while.’

He grimaced at that

He didn’t want to make you feel as if you weren’t friends

He didn’t want to say ‘friends tho, right?’ as some sort of compensation for your feelings he didn’t share

He felt for you

He loved you (in a way that was only platonic)

And yet-

‘Okay.’

The next day Heeseung had waved at you whilst flanked by the other boys and Ryujin at his side

Jungwon hugged you and asked if you were coming to lunch

‘Nope,’

‘BOOO,’ Niki shouted in Sunoo’s ear

‘What about tomorrow then? I’ve still got that post I want you to see in person’ Jay whined.

‘I dunno I’ll let you know though.’

Ryujin squeezed your hand as she followed you down the hallway away from the boys

‘How was it?’ Ryujin bit her lip with her sympathetic eyes

You shook your head

‘Imma need time. I think.’

‘Okay. Don’t be a stranger.’

Ryujin smiled and hugged you tightly, ‘It’s just one guy, my buddy.’

‘A guy I just happen to like and who’s kind and who I used to gush about for hours on end and-’

‘I was trying to lighten the mood, but my bad,’ Ryujin chuckled a little before letting you go

‘Mhmm’

With a final goodbye you dawdled to the library with your assignments and errands listed in your head for you to do

You took a seat and dug through your bag for your books and pencil case filled with pens and highlighters and got to working

You spent what felt like hours in the library, filling in gaps and writing down notes that you’ve been holding off for what felt like weeks

You sighed as you flicked out your wrist in an attempt to dissipate your pen cramp

That’s when the antics of two boys called your attention

They whispered heatedly between the two of them as they fussed over their written notes and their bags

‘Out of all days, you’re cramming now?’

‘I didn’t know it was due today and you didn’t either!’

‘You don’t even have a pen-’

You giggled to yourself and that had the boys look over to you sheepishly

‘Hey,’

‘Can I borrow a pen?’

You grinned and nodded, pulling out a pen of your pencil case

‘Oh my god. Why aren’t you this helpful?’

‘Fuck you.’

After awhile as they had written down all their points and you had gone back to your work, giggling a little at their quips

‘Here’s your pen. Thanks, really.’

‘No worries...what test is it for?’

‘This science research test. I’m not prepared for it, obviously. But Jake is.’

Sunghoon had explained, cocking his head toward Jake

Jake giggled in reply

‘In that case, you may as well keep the pen.’

Sunghoon grinned

‘Thank you. Do you want the pen back?’

‘I’m not sure about today.. but that could change.’

Meanwhile in the background, Jake smirked at your little exchange, preparing to tell all his and Sunghoon’s friends about his little conversation with a pretty girl in the library

The next few days were spent with Sunghoon and Jake

They had an assignment due that next Wednesday

You had your errands

But as the hours and the days flew by, the time spent actually working on your studies depleted and they were spent getting to know each other

They both gave your their number and you gave yours

You started making plans for after school and weekends

Ryujin wanted you to come to a party with her on Saturday (the boys were going to be there too and Sunoo was missing you)

But you had plans (with Sunghoon)

You started missing phone calls from your friends because you were busy spending time with Sunghoon.

You told Sunghoon and Jake all about your attempt at confessing and that had set Jake off on a tangent about how stupid the guy was and Sunghoon had opted to hold your hand

Your library hangouts had turned into ‘hangouts’ and extended outside of the library

And one day you were with Sunghoon and Jake on the lunch table, smiling at their antics and their whatever-the-fuck-they-were-doing

‘Y/N!’

You turned towards the voice, Sunghoon and Jake following you too

Sunoo reached towards you and hugged you

‘Feel like I never see you, like ever.’

‘I miss you.’

‘Me too,’ You smile.

You looked over at Heeseung and your smile failed a little bit at the way he held a girl’s hand in his

‘Hey,’ He smiled, feeling a little awkward at the revelation of his new girlfriend/friend/fling?

Truthfully he didn’t know who she was

But he wanted to find out

He was also confused at the new friends of yours

Jungwon walked over to you, looking at Sunghoon confusedly, ‘I didn’t know you knew Y/N.’

‘Surprise’

Sunghoon watched as you struggled to gain the confidence to introduce them to your other friends

He reached over and grabbed your hand in his, offering a small smile ‘I’m Sunghoon’

‘Jake’

‘I haven’t seen you in awhile my girl,’ Ryujin said, toe tapping your ankle

‘Sorry, I’ve been with these two this whole time. Super busy.’

Everyone frowns at your short sentence and your sudden uncomfortableness with the whole group in front of you, your easygoingness replaced with something that felt foreign to them

That didn’t really change throughout the week

The only one that really got the same response from you was Sunoo and even that was tampered with

You smiled in front of Sunghoon and Jake like you’re usual

Jungwon, Heeseung, Niki, Jay and Ryujin could only look on as you seemed to distance yourself from them all

Jay still had that one post he had to show you but when he had shown it too

You had pursed your lips in reply and looked at Jake with a secretive smile that you used to use with him

But you smiled at Jay and hugged him goodbye

They weren’t happy (meaning Heeseung and pals)

You did miss your friends

But-

You were happy with Sunghoon and Jake.

Very happy.

Heeseung sighed at the way you branched off with your new friends, leaving him and Ryujin in the dust

‘Okay, I can’t fucking do this anymore,’

Ryujin swore and turned towards him

‘You need to fucking say something. Because I’m sick and tired of being ignored by my best fucking friend in exchange for two boys. Two hot boys, but still boys nonetheless.’

Heeseung sighed at that

He did, didn’t he

So with a bated breath, he approached you when you were alone

No Sunghoon or Jake

Just you

He loomed over you as he attempted to find the words to say

‘Hey’

How are you?’

‘Good. You?’

‘I’m good.’

You nodded and looked over his shoulder in an attempt to find your friends

‘Y/N. Listen.’

Heeseung pleaded and he looked so desperate you couldn’t help but stare at him

‘I like you as my friend so please just keep being my friend.’

‘I am. I am, I just want space and I want time to be able to treat you like a pal and not the guy I like, Heeseung.’

‘That doesn’t explain why you’re ignoring the whole group.’

‘I’m not.’

‘You are! Sunoo misses you like fucking crazy and you are actually separated from Ryujin. That doesn’t feel normal.’

‘But I like being around the boys,’

‘SO LET THEM JOIN US. You don’t even have to look at me or speak to me, if you’re going to be my friend, please for the love of everything cheesy, we’re your friends too. Jay has even started sulking and you know he doesn’t hold grudges.’

You sighed

‘You’re right.’

‘I’m always right.’

‘I’ll let Sunghoon and Jake know then.’

‘Yes. Do that.’

So that lunch time, after attempting to persuade Jake who was more than happy to greet friends of yours and Sunghoon who was unhappy with Heeseung still

Sunghoon looked at you softly and then looked at Heeseung in a way that wasn’t the most friendly

‘Hey guys. This is Sunghoon and Jake.’

Jake waved and Sunghoon nodded, linking his fingers with yours

You turned towards him with a small smile

‘Uhhh- I was hoping we could all-join?’

They all couldn’t have been faster to nod or make room for you, welcoming you back with open arms and eager hearts.

author’s note : fun fact but it’s not really over.

#enhypenwriters #enhypen fic #enhypen bullet au #enhypen sunghoon fic #enhypen heeseung fic #enhypen sunghoon bullet au #enhypen heeseung bullet au #enhypen scenarios #enhypen imagines #enhypen heeseung scenarios #enhypen sunghoon imagines #enhypen x reader scenarios #enhypen x reader fic #enhypen x reader imagines #enhypen x reader bullet au

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pitaparka · 4 years

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when he’s sick headcanons

note — can you tell i was in a francisco morales mood when i wrote this? also, i’m incredibly soft. i just wanna hold them :’( also also send me your own headcanons!! i wanna hear ‘em!! big love <3 - nat

MANDO

- he doesn’t know how he survived all those bouts of sickness alone when you step in to help him for the first time

- his body aches, and not the usual after-bounty-capture either

- his head is foggy, he can feel the sweat in his helmet, and his breathing is hard

- he can’t tell if it’s coming through the modulator, but when you bring soup up to the cockpit for him, he knows you know

- he takes it gratefully, knowing that if there was nobody else here he would have just gone to bed to sleep it off, dinner vetoed for the night

- your cold fingers wrap around the back of his neck, moving his cape as you do so, and he melts into you

- he doesn’t know that he lets out the smallest whimper when you do this, and it makes you want to tear off his helmet, pull him into your arms, and hold him until he’s better

- but you can’t, so you settle for a hand on his neck, and the tilt of a helmet when he drinks the soup in front of you, as requested

- he definitely has a fever, and maker knows what else

- so you tell him to get some rest, that you’d watch the ship and get him if anything went wrong

- you supervise him down the ladder, just in case, which he finds funny and sweet

- you wish you could squish into his bunk with him, but you don’t want to invade on his personal space, especially while he’s hot and sick

- you you settle into the cockpit, the ship on cruise control, and you check on him every once in a while, keeping grogu occupied and quiet while he gets some well deserved rest

EZRA

- you knew he would get it

- right after you recovered from your illness, he started displaying symptoms of the same one you had just gotten over

- shortness of breath, fever, aches, lethargy

- he had taken such good care of you, so it was only fair that you’d do the same in return

- resources were sparse and quarters were cramped on the green, but you did what you could to make him as comfortable as possible

- his feverish back was pressed up against your chest in a cot designed for one after he’d stripped down to his underwear to avoid overheating

- he really enjoyed you being the big spoon sometimes, and now was one of those times

- when he got too hot from your shared body heat though, you would sit on the floor next to the cot and stroke right behind his ear to get him to fall asleep

- you made sure he ate as much as he could keep down, and you gave him all the fluids you could spare for his speedy recovery

- it broke your heart to see your usually verbose boy so quiet and in pain

- he muttered fever nonsense to no one and whimpered in his sleep

- you moved your cot directly next to his in order to keep a close eye on him

- but you knew that with time he would heal, and that as soon as he started talking to you again he was getting better

FRANKIE

- he sweats through the sheets next to you in the early hours of the night

- you’re the one who wakes up first, and you honestly thought one of you had wet the bed because of how much liquid there was

- but you realize that it’s frankie, back drenched and sweating out whatever flu he had acquired from whoever he had gotten it from

- you wake him from what seemed to be a not great dream anyway, and when he realizes what happened, he apologizes, groggy from sleep and illness

- “no, no! i’m not mad, frankie, you just can’t sleep in this sweetheart. you’ll get more sick. how are you feeling?”

- he curls up deeper under the covers and you get out of bed to kneel next to him

- your hands card through his matted, sweat soaked hair, and you wipe the drops from his jaw

- “do you want a cool shower, baby? you’re soaked.” you suggest, but frankie is so out of it

- he was fine last night, you remember

- sure he didn’t eat dinner, and went to bed early, but you thought maybe he had a late lunch and a long day

- now, helping him out of bed to the shower, you understand that it was early onset symptoms of whatever he was battling

- he pressed heavily to your side and you’re nervous as you strip him down and get him into the tub

- he sways, and you’re not sure what you’ll do if he passes out, or hits his head, so you sit him down, take off the shower head, make sure the water coming out is room temperature, and you run she showerhead over his overheating body

- you’re careful not to get any water in his face and ears, and you don’t wash his hair, just his body with a gentle soap

- you figure this is one of the only times frankie will let you take care of him like this, so you milk it for all it’s worth

- you blow dry his hair on a low setting, just in case he has a headache, you change the sheets of your bed, you lay him down on his side and you bring him close to your chest

- which is how he falls asleep for the next few nights until his illness eventually subsides

WHISKEY

- he curls up in your lap on the couch as soon as he gets home from work, which is how you know something’s wrong

- but you ask him anyway

- “i don’t feel so great, sugar,”

- which scares you, because did he get drugged? is this just a regular illness? is this like a biowarfare mission gone wrong?

- you leave him to get the thermometer, and when you come back, he’s got sad eyes looking up at you that just break your heart

- turns out, it’s not biowarfare. just a fever of 100.4

- you slip your hands up the back of his shirt and it’s so warm, along with his forehead

- he moans weakly at your touch, worn and tired from his extensive mission that day

- he’s definitely been overexerting himself

- as you settle back onto the couch, he settles into your lap again

- you let him rest for a while, but not after long, you realize he’s fallen asleep, and you’re stuck there for god knows how long

- you turn the volume down on the tv just in case, and you stroke behind his ears and you play with his fingers

- it’s best to just let him sleep it off, and you're not opposed to letting him do it on your lap

- you imagine there are statesman resources you can use to help him, but if he’s feeling better after he’s slept it off, then maybe you won’t need to misuse them

JAVIER PEÑA

- you scared the shit out of him, knocking on his door like that

- in your blinding rage, filled with thoughts like “how dare he take the day off to bang hookers, to recover from his hangover, to generally be a hindrance to the fucking DEA,” you had not pondered the possibility that THE javier peña, was sick

- he’s pulling on a t-shirt just as he opens the door, wearing pajama pants, and it startles you to see him so disarmed and casual

- his eyes and nose are red, his hair is disheveled, and he looks... exhausted

- “wow, you look like shit."

- “i feel like shit,” he says, walking away from the door, sniffling

- you take this as an invitation in, and close the door behind you

- he collapses back onto his couch, where you assume he’s been all day, and wraps himself up in a thick afghan blanket

- his hands shake the slightest bit as he opens his lighter to ignite his cigarette

- you take a seat next to him and help him with his lighter, and he nods his thanks to you

- “you’re gonna be late,” he mutters, taking the cigarette from his mouth and blowing out smoke into his apartment, coughing it out halfway

- “i’ll call out,” you offer, eyes wandering up his blanket clad body

- he closes his eyes and lets his head rest on the back of the couch

- “go in. i’m just gonna sleep it off anyway,”

- you lean in close to him and press your hand against his forehead and he freezes, staring at you

- you run your hand down his neck and feel his warmth, and he melts into your touch just a little bit

- you offer to only call out for a few hours to get him settled and make sure he doesn’t die or something, and he lets you, simply because he knows his illness will only get worse

- when your time is up and you have to go back to work, javi’s eaten, gotten some fluids in him, and taken some pain meds

- you let him know that he can call you if he needs anything, and before you even walk out the door is sleeping contently on the couch

MARCUS MORENO

- you find out he’s sick when he calls you, and asks for a favor

- “hey, can you do me the biggest favor ever?”

- he’s super congested. at first you think it might not be him because of how grainy his voice is

- “i hate to do this to you on such short notice, but would you be able to pick up missy? i’m not feeling too hot right now.”

- when you make it back to their home, it's very clear why he thought he wouldn't be able to make it

- he's curled up in bed, tissues piled on his nightstand, trying to get some sleep, but clearly failing

- he notices the two of you come in, and you quietly usher missy away to her own room to entertain herself while her dad tries to get some rest

- he thanks you for picking up missy, and you tell him you'd be there for him whenever he needed you to be

- you make a special phone call as you care for marcus, keeping his curtains closed and running your cool hands up and down his back and shoulders until he felt like he could fall asleep

- you let him know that you'll be right back, that you were going to pick up a few things for him and that if he needed anything at all, just call

- knowing your chicken noodle soup skills were rusty, your special phone call had been to marcus' mother's house, where she had tupperware containers full of soup waiting for you to pick up for him

- when you get back to his house with pain meds, gatorade, and the soup, marcus is passed out in bed

- you don't want to wake him up, but you have a hunch that he hasn't eaten all day, so you whisper his name softly and lightly shake him awake

- he's so grateful and only eats a portion of what he normally does, but anything is better than nothing

- and you don't want him feeling even more sick as a result

- you end up eating the incredibly nostalgic and rich soup with missy at the table and talk to her about your day while marcus gets some sleep

MARCUS PIKE

- it's only when you get home from work that you realize something's wrong with marcus

- he's asleep on the couch

- which would have been fine, if you had worked overtime, or had gotten out late, but it was only four thirty

- plus, you two had planned on going to see a movie you he was excited about tonight in theatres and maybe grab dinner after

- the tv plays lowly in the background, and he hasn’t changed out of his work clothes yet

- he startles when you close and lock the door, and rubs his temples, eyes squeezed shut in pain

- "marcus, are you okay?"

- "yeah, i'm fine." he tells you, and when you mention the date, he looks shocked that he forgot about it

- "oh my god, you're right. i can’t believe i forgot, i’m so sorry babe, i'll get ready right now."

- you tell him it's no biggie, but he insists

- after you've taken off your work clothes and showered quickly for your date, you realize the two of you are most definitely staying in

- he's promptly fallen back asleep on the couch, and he looks adorable

- you put on your pajamas and he does too, and you settle into the couch behind marcus, flipping through channels with him

- he says he doesn't care what you watch, as long as it's not too bright or loud

- so you choose some old black and white movie with the subtitles on

- normally you're the one between his legs, as he rubs your shoulders and plays with your hair

- but this time, he's curled up into you, his back pressed up against your chest, his head tucked into your shoulder using it as a pillow

- you figure you didn't really want to see the new movie anyway, and decide takeout and casablanca was a better way to spend your time with your sick boyfriend

MAX PHILLIPS

- a big baby

- but he IS a vampire and DOES NOT get sick, which slips your mind completely when you come home after some overtime and find him paler than usual on the couch, his head in his hands

- you try to get him to tell you what’s wrong, and he refuses, but he caves when you sit down next to him and start stroking his head, and playing with the hair at the base of his neck

- he tells you that after the whole vampire fiasco with the company, he was set for a while, and has been feeling great, but he hasn’t had human blood in so long that it’s made him weak

- he gives you a sad puppy dog look, and you know he’s being an asshole about it, but you hate to see the dark circles under his eyes or the color his skin turns when he’s like this

- so you oblige, but you give him STRICT instructions to follow, otherwise you won’t do it again

- don’t take more than a pint, don’t leave unnecessary bruises, if you use your safe word he has to stop immediately, and he has to make it as quick and painless as he possibly can

- he nods enthusiastically, and pulls you into his lap

- he nuzzles into your neck, and grabs your chin, anchoring himself to you

- he blows softly on your skin, and presses hard kisses to the area to get your blood flowing and disarm you

- which isn’t fair because he knows your neck is so sensitive

- it’s a sharp prick when he ejects his fangs into your body and you stop moving completely, your hand fisting at his shirt, just listening to your breathing and his soft moans echoed against your skin

- out of habit your rub soothing circles into his back, more to sooth yourself then anything

- minutes pass, and you start to feel light headed and are about to tell him to stop when he pulls away, grinning ear to ear at you

- he’s back on your neck in seconds though, licking and sucking the leaking blood from the small holes he’s left in your skin

- now that, that feels much better than the bloodsucking that was going on originally

- you jump when he presses soft kisses to the sensitive area along your throat and dives a hand between your legs

- looks like someone’s feeling better already

MAX LORD

- tries to power through it as much as he can with pain killers and cough syrups, but after he almost passes out at dinner after a week of symptoms, you beg him to take at least a day off to recover

- that morning, his hair is a mess, he missed a button on his shirt, and his tie was uneven

- he was about to put on two different colored socks when he begrudgingly obliges

- you unbutton his shirt and help him take off his tie

- it’s easy to bring him back to bed after that, and you let him hold you from behind like a teddy bear, no matter how uncomfortable his arm is shoved under your neck

- usually he likes to be held, but he can feel his own back burning up, so he decides to hold you instead

- he whimpers in his sleep, plagued by fever dreams and his traumatic past

- so when he wakes you up in the middle of the night, something he so very rarely does, you’re concerned

- “i’m sorry, for waking you, i just... i just need... you... i want—“

- it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out he needs a hug

- you hold him and rub his back until he falls back asleep again, in your arms

- when he wakes up with a killer headache, you fight to keep him in bed again, rubbing his temples and pressing kisses to his forehead

- he falls back asleep in less than five minutes

- needless to say, one more day off couldn’t hurt

OBERYN MARTELL

- it’s not often than he gets sick, surprisingly, considering how close he gets to so many different people

- when you arrive at his chambers that morning, the guards seem keen on not letting you in

- you argue with them, but they insist oberyn didn’t want anyone in there

- you call them out, obviously upset and visibly frustrated when his doors creak open and you see him, in a robe, hair messy and pressed down to his forehead

- he quietly tells the guard to let you in, and you’re a little confused

- he sits down on his bed and looks up at you with guilty eyes

- “apologies, my love, but I don't want you to see me like this”

- you scoff and roll your eyes at him, moving in front of him

- you take his head in your hands, and he stares up at you

- “apology accepted, but i’m offended, my prince.”

- he scrunches his eyebrows and presses his chin to your stomach

- you run your hands through his hair and he brings his hands to your waist

- “you think mere illness could keep me away? keep me away from you?”

- his confusion melts into a small smile, and he lets his head rest against your belly as you pull him into you

- “can i get you anything, oberyn? wine, medicine?”

- “no, my love. just you is enough for me.”

PERO TOVAR

- wants to be left alone for the most part

- grumpy in general, and it doesn't get better when he's sick

- he'll let you wipe a cool cloth over his forehead and neck, and doesn't complain

- he says he doesn’t want you there because he doesn’t want you to catch what he has

- you know, survival rates are low for things like this at this point in history

- but really, like oberyn, he doesn’t want you to see him weak

- he’s afraid it’ll ruin your image of him in your mind

- william asks you to get some rest, as they can’t afford to risk more days at the campsite with sick travelers

- so you oblige, keeping your distance from pero, but you stay vigilant

- you stand guard for him for most of the night, listening to him breathe, watching his chest rise and fall, until you eventually fall asleep too

- but you’re up early, with the rest of the men, except pero, who sleeps well into daylight

- the rest of them take off, desperate to find something for dinner, but you stay back with him, stroking his forehead, a gentleness that’s rarely ever been afforded to him, listening to him ramble half in english, half in spanish, but he has your full attention

- it would be a rough few days until he recovered, but his muttered thanks and appreciation for you was more than enough for you to do it all over again if he ever needed you to

828 notes · View notes

youn9racha · 3 years

Text

I Know (Part I)

Pairing: Changbin x fem!reader

Genre: suggestive

Word count: 1.9k

Warning: slight adult content, swearing, suggestive actions, elements of stalker behavior

Extra notes: characters mentioned are all above the age 21 years, a lot of hatred towards the male figure lol. Also this is my first time writing on tumblr, so please bare with me, it may not be the best, but I still hope you enjoy it :)

And baby, I know, I know whatever city you’re in, you’re still the boy that I’d pick…

part ii is up !!!

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This is no way representative of the way Stray Kids act. They’re nothing but references of character, and in no shape or form is this how they act. And I am in no way romanticizing or glamorizing any toxic behavior exhibited, they’re just stories that is meant to be read. Readers discretion is advised

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Men…

Truly the scums of the Earth, who do no good for no one, and are an absolute menace to society. But oh, do I enjoy the looks of their faces at times. The way they would look at me with full hope and infatuation, with full beliefs that I would step down and give them all they want from me.

Hmph. How cute… and pathetic. How pathetic to assume and lower my standards for them. They all are the same. All but one however.

All that men hating… and yet, only one I’d be willing to go down to his level.

Yes, its him… He whom a lot would have not sought to be with, not many would expect a bombshell like myself would be with. But I do not see that in him, not an ounce of what many insecure individuals would see. I see something striking that not many could see, an underrated dignified beauty that anyone could wish to admire. A fanciable and irresistible personality and face.

He was a man.. but a pleasant one.

It all started when I moved in into a new flat for myself. I previously left the old complex due to the cramped environment I had that left me feeling uneasy and stressed, as well as it wasn’t even my apartment, it was for my partner, well, ex-partner. It was simply wasn’t working out, due to our seeming never ending conflicts. But enough of the past, let us move on..

I found this flat that is comfortable and the rent pays well, its only downside is that my room’s window is faced to the next door’s flat, however it’s not a big detriment or big turn off for me so it was fine by me, and also it was prone to have random, yet rare, blackout, but then again what neighborhood doesn’t have that. Anyhow, I was set to take the complex, but before I did, I have noticed something about the neighbor’s window next to me. It was a man. A really good looking one too. Giving his side profile, he was laying on his bed, his black hair covered head bopping with earphones placed in ears, laptop placed in his revealing shorts adorned lap. My eyes began started to stare into his arms then onto his naked well built chest, which indicates that he likes to keep up with his health, as his ring adorned hands was tapping away in his keyboard. I quickly looked away when I saw him repositioned his laptop, and walked out of the soon-to-be my room.

Great… I’ve entered Hell.

But I didn’t let it affect my decisions and got the apartment nonetheless, here I am now, weeks after the incident, sitting in my car, outside of the building, still thinking about the man in his laptop. Has he noticed that I was staring at him? Does he know that there’s gonna be someone living next to him? I hope not. And if he has, I must apologize to him. But before that, let me unload my car. I have gradually put my stuff into the complex as the days go by, it seems dragging, but it felt like the time went by fast, so I’m glad I have done that. However, today was different, as I took stuff more than I usually did, as I desperately do not want to go back to my ex. Typically, I never had assistance, as usually my best friend would join in and help out, but at a time I needed them the most, they had to be really sick. They still were willing to help, but I insisted that they shouldn’t and should rest.

After thinking, I sighed and got out my car, ready to fight the battle that is putting my stuff into my complex. I opened the trunk, eyes meeting my stuff, and I begin to groan. ‘Dammit, (y/n), why do you have that many stuff?!’ I thought to myself. I really should’ve had at least one more visit to my ex, but alas I picked to just take all all together in one day. I picked up a box until..

“Need any help?” I heard someone behind me asking me. I turned around and looked at the source. ‘God damn, is it just me, or does this town just bring out more attractive people?’ I thought to myself, as I see a man that looked like he could be at a museum. He had a sandy brown curly hair, slightly tanned skin, really plump and a crazy jawline. He donned a tank top that barely covered his side torso, and basket ball shorts that complimented his really nice, thick… thighs… yeah… Needless to say he was really attractive.

It seems that I was ogling him, rather than responding, as he shyly smiled and waved his hand in front of my face, “hello,” he softly said as I shook my head and looked back at his face apologetically.

“I am so sorry, I am just really tired, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” I cringed at my pathetic way of justifying of me literally internally lusting over him. I really am turning into someone I dread to be. How can I forgive myself?

“That’s okay, I know how moving can get tiring, and I sense that you’re alone, so please let me and my friend help you out.” He said, sympathetically smiling a sweet smile, already grabbing a box out of my hand. God, if this man has a partner, then they’re the luckiest person ever, and if he’s single, I’ll gladly hand him a ring. What am I saying? (y/n), what the hell has gotten into you?!

“I’m Christopher, but you can call me Chris or Chan, whichever you prefer is fine, what’s your name?” The generous man’s voice interrupted my inner battle and I found myself looking at him again. “(y/n)” I smiled at him, which he nodded back.

“Nice to meet you,” Chan said, looking back and see that his friend showed up, meanwhile, I went back to my trunk and got out more stuff from my car “oh, there he is!” Chan enthusiastically announced.

“(y/n), meet my friend and roommate, Changbin.” Chris said, while I got out the box and looked at the other man, my face shifted from contentment to horrific.

Its the man with the laptop.

“Hello? Chan, are you sure she’s okay?” Changbin looked at Chris with worry. “Yeah, she’s just tired, just nudge her.”

It’s like Chris knew me too well, despite meeting for less than 10 minutes, as Chris slightly pushed me with the box, not enough to hurt me, but enough to put me out of a trance.

“huh? I did it again, did I?” I looked at Chan, worryingly, which he nodded. I looked back at Changbin and the pathetic act was brought up again.

“I am so sorry, I don’t know what has gotten into me.” I apologized once again, which Changbin only smirked. “Don’t worry about it,” He said, carrying a box. Something about that smirk and tone seems off. Not off in a menacing way, but off in a… coy way. Maybe not the best term to use, maybe I am just over analyzing, but I am for sure either winning the lottery tonight, or convinced that the sun will rise from the west tomorrow, since I have two very attractive men helping out, one of which is someone whom I may have an odd fascination for a while now.

The two have been nothing but a delight to interact with, their help with the stuff had done me even more than just a solid. However, I still in a way feel a bit unsettled by Changbin. It wasn’t that he was a creep, or did anything to make me uncomfortable, its just this feeling of guilt I carry with me. Meanwhile, I didn’t attempt anything, and I just simply just admired him from afar, it still felt wrong that I was just looking at him while he was barely wearing anything, let alone while not him paying attention. Despite this, it seems that he doesn’t know that I did what I did, which is why I chose to confront him about it when the time is right, which is probably when we start getting even more comfortable. I have exchanged numbers with both men, even though I could probably just go out my window and yell out their names, but I’d rather not disturb the peace.

Two good looking men are now my neighbors… Who would have thought? Whichever entity that is in existence have decided to play with me, because to them, my humiliation would be their laughing stock, because they definitely would have seen what is to become of me.

Its been a week in since I moved, and interacted with the two Chans, and I am glad that a curtain was installed onto my room, just so I wouldn’t carry even more guilt than I already do. But the thing is, I would lie that I still haven’t thought of Changbin. While I would have thought that Chris fitting into more of my ideal type, Changbin however held a mysterious power that Chan didn’t.

Ever since the time I first laid eyes on Changbin, he has never left my mind. He has started to creep up in my fantasies and dreams in every way shape of form. I couldn’t stop thinking of how his arms would look around my waist, how his lips would feel in my skin, or how his hands would wander around, exploring places that many men often fail to find to make me feel good, or how his voice would be like when talking as he puts his mouth by my ear— God, this is getting out of hand, I would think.

What if he had a girlfriend? What if he wasn’t attracted to women in general? What if he finds you a creep?

So many more endless questions would come in to ruin me, but its not like i have a choice, he just happened to settle into my dreams and thoughts, and went with it.

I decided to take a shower to try and distract myself from these thoughts, which didn’t help at all, as the hot water cascading my skin did nothing but accelerated my lustful thoughts. I decided to get out of the shower, as it didn’t help my case.

Damn you, Changbin.

I sighed, put on some underwear and a robe while having a towel wrapped around my hair. I got out of the bathroom and back to my room. It was dark out, and in my room, the only light came out of it were my night lamp, which barely lit up the whole room. I checked the window, making sure Changbin wasn’t there, or at least not facing the window, only to see his window being covered with curtains.

Great timing, could’ve used that when I first saw you, dipshit.

But nonetheless, I was really glad at least he wasn’t visible. I laid back on my bed, and decided to look through social media, as anyone should. While in the middle of a instagram scroll, I see a caller popping through at the top of the screen…

It was Changbin.

#stray kids #stray kids scenarios #stray kids fanfic #changbin #changbin scenarios #changbin fanfic #changbin smut #stray kids smut #skz fanfic #skz scenarios

125 notes · View notes

darthkruge · 4 years

Note

Okay okay okay so imagine Reader is abducted by the separatists because she ( or nb reader ) is a very well loved member of the senate. So obviously Anakin goes to save her, but his idiot plan gets him captured as well so then it's up to Reader to talk her way out of this mess, get to her idiot boyfriend, free him and then both of them try to make it out alive. Bonus points for Obi-Wan looking very tired and sick of Anakin's ideas in the background. What do you think?

Anakin Skywalker x Fem!Reader ~ Rescue Operations?

Summary: After the Reader is captured by the Separatists, Anakin rushes to save her. When this doesn’t work out, the Reader has to get her and her boyfriend out of this mess.

Warnings: Language, whump, one scene where the Reader gets beat up, Reader is a badass, Anakin is completely in love with his badass girlfriend and we love that for him

Words: 3.8k

A/N: Catherine, my love!! I’m sorry this took me so long, I have nothing to say for myself other than my poor organization skills. But I’m obsessed with this request, I hope I did it justice <3

gif credit (x)

You groaned as you opened your eyes and attempted to shake the drowsiness that seemed to cling to your very bones. You blinked, trying to get your bearings and remember what had happened. You were preparing for your speech at the Senate, trying to pass a peace treaty between the Republic and some smaller territories that were debating joining the fight against the Separatists. You’d been fighting for support for the treaty for months and you finally had the chance to give one last speech before the vote.

You’d been pacing in your Coruscant apartment, practicing the speech for your boyfriend a million times. After you finished your recitation, you exited the room, needing to get your notes that you’d seemed to misplace. So you went into your office and… nothing.

Why couldn’t you remember after that?! You opened the door to your office, walked inside, and…

You sighed as you came back to the present, leaning against the wall behind you and looking around. You were clearly in a cell of some sort and the Separatists were almost certainly behind this. You were still in your Senate attire, although it had been thoroughly scuffed up, and they’d taken your datapad and other communication devices. You felt around your boot and smiled. Your knife was still there. They must have assumed you wouldn’t be carrying a weapon to your speech and not done a thorough enough check. Whatever the reason, you were thanking the Maker it was still there.

Back in Coruscant, Anakin was walking the Temple halls in a crazed state. When you didn’t show up for your speech, he immediately panicked. He knew how important this treaty was for you and the entire Republic; you’d been going over it for forever and there is no way you’d just blow it off without telling anyone. The rest of the Senate was also concerned. You’d grown up in one of the poorer districts and, thus, had a sense of relatability and humility that most were drawn to. Whether or not they agreed with your policies, almost everyone could understand that you always kept the interest of the people at the forefront of your mind.

When Obi-Wan walked up to him with a ripped piece of your clothes and your scattered and crumpled notes, Anakin felt his heart drop.

“It was the Separatists. They must have knocked her out in her office and escaped through the vents.”

Upon seeing his absolutely heartbroken expression, Obi-Wan added, “We’ll get her back, Anakin. I promise.”

Anakin could only nod, ideas for a plan to save you already running round his head.

You’d been in this kriffing cell for four days now. Or maybe it was five? You were desperately trying to keep your wits about you but it was so hard; they brought you a tiny ration of food and water once a day and it was not near enough to keep your strength up. You’d spent your time trying to carve your way through the bars but your knife was no match and you quickly gave up, not wanting to dull the blade. You’d found a loose brick hidden around the floor and used the knife to cut it out, allowing you to hide your weapon under it on the off chance they searched you again.

You tried to think of a plan to escape but they hadn’t even opened your door yet. There was no way you could get out by yourself and, until someone came in that you could attack, it was pointless to even try. They kept you in complete darkness and silence, no way to tell how much time had passed aside from the daily rations. You assumed you were on a Separatist base but that proved unhelpful; they were widespread and the cell held no defining features of climate or location. You had tried calling out to see if anyone else was around. Each time, you were met with your own echo.

You stilled, hearing footsteps approach you. A Separatist guard opened your cell door, roughly pulling you out. You yelped, legs not cooperating after so long of sitting in the cramped cell. He led you into another room that was barely brighter than your own. Sizing up the guard, you felt fear creep in. No matter how hard you tried to banish your anxieties, knowing they’d only serve to lessen your already shaken focus, it was sometimes impossible.

“Tell us which planets are deserting.” He commanded.

You met his stare evenly, refusing to let your fear betray you. There was absolutely no chance you’d tell him anything. As soon as the Separatists learned which planets were thinking about joining the Republic, they’d send armies to wipe them out immediately. You refused to let that happen.

“Fine. Be that way.” The man pulled his fist back and sent it into your cheek, the impact sending sparks of pain throughout your entire body. He brought his foot up, kicking you in the gut and you fell harshly onto the floor. He grabbed you by your hair, hoisting up your body as if it were a ragdoll. You gathered your strength and spit in his face, enjoying the way his smug look disappeared. In retaliation, he slammed you into the wall, the impact making stars cloud your vision.

The man released you and you fell, your consciousness already starting to detach from your body. You tried to reason with yourself, hoping logic would aid you. This is a trauma response. I’m not going to die. My body can take this. I will black out, but I will wake up again. They’re not going to kill me. They need me alive. I’m not going to die. I’m not going to die. Somehow, the hardest part is this was banishing the thoughts of that beautiful boy from your head. You knew that if you allowed yourself to think of him, to fathom how he would blame himself should this be your end, you would give in.

Instead, you focussed on the physical pain you felt, on the rage you channeled to this guard. You hated how weak you felt, how exhausted you were. You allowed your mind to hone in on all the ways you could hurt this man, given you had your full strength. You let yourself hate yourself, appalled at how you couldn’t even fight back. With every punch he threw at you, you went further into your head, into the one place this man couldn’t touch. Eventually, your mind started spinning from dehydration, pain, and overexertion. All you could do was curl into a fetal position and hope it somehow stopped.

“What do you mean you’re going to find her?” Obi-Wan said, running after Anakin.

“It’s been days, Obi-Wan, days. There are only so many Separatist bases in the galaxy and Y/N’s on one of them.”

“Anakin, don’t you think they’ve planned for a rescue mission?! This is Senator L/N we’re talking about! And they took her right before the vote, this was clearly a thought-out attack, stop acting like it’s simple!”

“It is simple! Those Separatist assholes have Y/N. And it’s been days. What if she thinks we forgot about her? What if she thinks we’ve given up? They could be doing fucking anything to her and I’m not going to let her stay there for another minute!”

“Anakin-” Obi-Wan began but Anakin waved him off.

“I’m sorry, Master. But if the Council won’t do anything, I will.”

“Anakin, the Council is trying! They just don’t have enough troops right now to send a full rescue mission after one Senator. They just want a few more days, then some troops should be back from their missions and you can have your full battalion.” Obi-Wan took a breath and lowered his voice, empathy for his friend clear in his words. “I know you love her. I want her back, too, you know. I’ve grown quite fond of her; her friendship is quite dear to me. All I’m asking is you be careful and think this through.”

“Believe me, I have thought this through. I wouldn’t do anything to put her in danger, we both know that. And while a few days doesn’t seem like much to the Council, we’ve seen the harm these Separatists can inflict in far less. Listen, it might not be the strongest plan I’ve ever made but, if it’s between a semi-formed plan and none at all, the choice is already made.”

With that, Anakin jumped into his ship and took off into the night. Obi-Wan sighed, leaning his head into his palm. He knew how much you meant to him and he knew of Anakin’s frustration with the Council. They moved slowly, wanting to figure out every angle before jumping into a decision. While Anakin was a brilliant strategist, he tended to act impulsively when someone he loved was in danger. As Anakin traveled further and further from Coruscant, the older Jedi could only hope that the both of you returned home quickly and safely.

Anakin looked at his ship’s display and cursed when he realized he was low on fuel. He’d been piloting for hours and there was still no sign of you. He was searching out for you with the Force and, still, nothing. Finally, he felt a faint energy pulse through the Force. He followed it to what was supposed to be an old abandoned Separatist base, concerned by how weak your lifeforce felt.

He parked the ship and got out carefully, trying not to alert anyone to his presence. He pulled out his lightsaber but was careful not to ignite it. He saw an open door and ran through it, relief blinding him as he felt your energy grow stronger with each step he took. He turned the corner and saw a crumpled body on the floor of a tiny cell.

No, Anakin thought, it can’t be her.

Without thinking, Anakin ignited his lightsaber, wanting to use the light to discern if the figure was truly you. The noise bounced off the walls and startled you awake. He mentally cursed himself and instinctively turned off the saber, not missing the even louder noise it made with it turned off. He inwardly facepalmed, realizing if he hadn’t alerted the guards before, they sure as hell knew now.

You blinked groggily, wincing at your immense injuries and bruises. You remembered passing out while that asshole beat you and now you-

Wait, You thought, is that a fucking lightsaber?

You knew you must have heard it wrong, there’s no way the Council would have approved a relief mission this quickly. Further, there is no way it would consist of just one Jedi.

Suddenly, the lightsaber re-lit, illuminating your boyfriend’s face. His determined expression grew stronger as he noticed the 10 guards surrounding him and pointing their blasters directly at his head. You smiled. He could take out ten guards with his eyes closed. You called to him in shock, hardly believing your eyes. He looked at you and immediately widened his eyes as he saw a guard come up behind you and point a blaster directly at you from outside your cell.

“Lightsaber on the floor, Jedi, or the girl dies.” The guard growled.

He looked at you in anguish and you could tell he was already beating himself up for “messing up” your escape plan. You shook your head, hoping he understood your message: this isn’t your fault.

“Anakin don’t-” You couldn’t even finish the sentence before his weapon was on the floor. He put his hands on his head. As they grabbed him, you stood in helpless silence as they threw him in the cell beside you. They locked the doors and, once again, you were in darkness.

You desperately crawled to the edge of your cell, trying to reach out to him. He was doing the same and when you felt his fingertips against yours, you almost started sobbing. You weren’t alone anymore.

“You came for me.” Your voice was soft, disbelief lacing your words.

“Of course I did, my love.”

Then, as if everything finally registered in your brain, you reached out and tried to slap his arm. “Anakin, what about the Council? They’ll kill you when they realize you went on a rescue mission, alone, and without approval! Ani, the only thing keeping me going in here was knowing that you were safe! And now you’ve gotten yourself thrown right next to me, no weapons, no light, no food, no water, no escape! What the fuck are we going to do?!”

Anakin had opened and closed his mouth multiple times throughout your speech, trying to find a way to plead his case but was left without one.

“I just wanted to save you.” The grief in his voice made you sigh and take a step back. This was your Anakin you were talking about. Your safety was his priority, always. Besides, doing all this because he was afraid for you? You couldn’t possibly stay mad. You smiled, despite yourself. Anakin. You thought, slightly shaking your head.

“Fuck, I love you. Is it selfish that there’s a small part of me that’s glad you’re here with me?” You said, breaking the silence.

Anakin breathed out a sigh of relief, glad you weren’t upset with him anymore. “Not at all, my love. So long as it isn’t bad that my least favorite part of this is not being able to see or kiss you properly because of this damn darkness.”

You chuckled, lacing your fingers with his once again. “You wouldn’t want to see me right now.”

Anakin froze. “Y/N? What are you talking about?” His voice was serious, clipped. He knew you would try and make it seem less than it was. You winced, realizing there was no way to lie your way out of this one.

“Just what the Separatists would call aggressive negotiations, I presume.”

“How bad?”

“It’s fine, Ani, I promise. Let’s just focus on getting out of here, okay?”

Anakin took a deep breath, collecting himself. “Alright. But as soon as we get back you’re going to a medical droid.”

You groaned. “Anakin I hate-”

“I know you hate the medical droids. But that’s only because they always rat you out when you try and lie to me about the extensiveness of your injuries.”

“You lie about how bad your injuries are, too! Remember that one time you came back from Kamino?!”

Anakin laughed, despite himself. “You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”

“You were literally bleeding from the head! And you said, and I quote, ‘it’s just a scratch’” Every time you thought back to that day, you were incredulous.

“Alright, alright! Let’s just focus on getting out of here.”

“That’s my line!”

“Y/N,” He warned.

You smiled. Maker, you missed him. You honestly didn’t think that anyone else would have you laughing while you were beaten and captured.

“Okay. What’s the plan?” Anakin said, back to the matter at hand.

You lowered your voice, leaning toward his cell so you could talk without being heard. “I snuck a knife in with me and I’ve been able to keep it a secret. Now that you’re here, it might actually come in handy. The problem was that I couldn’t stab anyone because no one would come into the cell. I need you to get them here. Push them against the side of your cell, the one closest to me, and I’ll stab them. Then while they’re hurt, you run out, unlatch my cell, and we’ll go.”

“I’m dating a fucking genius!” You could just about hear the smile in his voice.

You smirked. All things considered, you were pretty proud of yourself.

“When do you want to do this?”

“They bring daily food and water rations in the morning, I think? I can’t exactly tell what time it is, they’ve kept it so dark and isolated. Regardless, the next time they come by I need you to get them in here. They normally just leave the food outside and push it under the door.”

Anakin could hear the disorientation in your words and wanted nothing more than to be able to see you, to be able to hold you and reassure you that it would all be alright.

“Okay, angel. Got it.”

“Anakin?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you for coming to get me. It’s really good to hear your voice.”

“Always, my love.”

Both of you silenced when you heard those footsteps. You smiled for the first time as you heard them. We’re going to get out of here.

“Yeah, that’s a great idea, Y/N! This brick in here is loose!” Anakin announced loudly. You bit your cheek to suppress a smile as you watched Anakin catch the guard’s attention.

“What did you say, Jedi?!”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Anakin responded, dramatically feigning innocence.

The guard huffed and you internally cheered as he roughly opened the door. He walked over to your boyfriend, keeping the blaster pointed at him. As soon as the guard’s attention shifted to the “loose” brick, Anakin used the force to knock the blaster out of his hand and push him against the wall of the cell where you slashed his Achilles tendons.

The guard howled in pain and you knew you had to work quickly if you were to get out of here before the rest of the Separatists found you. Anakin fumbled with the latch on your cell, the immense darkness making it difficult. Finally, he got it open and ushered you out. The both of you took off in a run and he gripped your hand with his metal one as you did so.

You immediately stopped as you felt his hand roughly pulled from yours.

“We’ve got you now, Skywalker” The guard said.

“Y/N, you ready?”

You blinked, unsure what he was referring to. Then, you heard an object whipping through the air and on instinct shot your hand out, catching it. You ignited Anakin’s lightsaber that he had summoned to you with the Force, it’s signature buzz making you feel powerful beyond words.

The light caught you off guard and you squinted until your eyes adjusted. You saw Anakin held back by two guards. Hearing faint footsteps, you took off in a run. Anakin ducked as you swung wildly, hitting and taking out both guards.

“You done holding us up?” You said, extending your hand toward him once more and passing him his lightsaber.

Anakin smiled, accepting it. “My sincerest apologies.”

You both ran, hand-in-hand, until you finally made it to the exit.

“What?” You said, as Anakin stopped abruptly and looked at you, panicked.

“The ship! It’s out of fuel!”

“It’s what?!”

“I-” Anakin and you stared at each other, flickers of doubt coming into your gaze. You can’t believe that you’d been able to escape for nothing.

“Anakin! Y/N!”

You whipped your head around at the sound and were met with another ship a few meters down, Obi-Wan piloting it.

“Well? Are you coming, or what?” You and Anakin looked at each other in shock before taking off in a sprint, one guard now close behind you.

He started shooting and Anakin pulled out his lightsaber, deflecting some of the shots. As he focused on that, you pulled your knife back out of your boot and sent it flying into the guard’s chest, effectively stopping his pursuit.

Anakin smirked at you, awestruck. You shrugged before jumping into the ship, extending your arm to Anakin and helping to pull him up with you. You entered and immediately leaned against the wall of the ship, relief coursing through you. You laughed and Anakin joined in. He immediately pulled you into him, kissing you hard.

He broke away from the kiss, looking at you with adoration. “You are a fucking badass!! You’ve never even held a lightsaber and between that and your fucking tiny knife you took out four guards!! I didn’t even get any! I’m not going to lie, Y/N, I’m a bit jealous.”

You laughed, leaning into him but wincing. As the adrenaline wore off, your pain was suddenly quite palpable. He noticed and pulled back, scanning your face and body.

His smile fell as the extent of your injuries sunk in. Your busted cheek, scratched face, and ripped clothing that exposed some of your many bruises across your torso and limbs were overwhelming.

“You kids alright in there?” Obi-Wan said, walking in from the cockpit. His smile died on his face as well as he took in your form.

“I’m alright, guys. It’s not as bad as it looks.” You said dismissively.

“That doesn’t look like nothing!” Anakin shot back.

Obi-Wan looked at you apologetically. “Anakin’s right, Y/N. Please, rest. We’ll be back to Coruscant soon.”

Coruscant! The Senate! “My speech!! Fuck, I had to present my speech! I’ve been gone, what, a week? They’ve probably already voted, Kriff.”

Obi-Wan shook his head. “They decided to suspend the vote until you were back, Senator. They truly care for you and your policies.”

Your heart swelled at Obi-Wan’s words. You looked into Anakin’s eyes and saw that he agreed with the statement full heartedly. He took your hand and gently ran his thumb up and down its back.

“Rest, my love.” He whispered to you, coaxing you to lie down on the coach and pulling off his Jedi cloak. He wrapped it around you as a makeshift blanket, smiling as you pulled it closer to you and drifted off.

Obi-Wan walked up to Anakin and placed his hand on his shoulder. “Let’s leave her be, okay?”

“I don’t want her to wake up when I’m not here.”

The elder Jedi nodded in understanding. “She’s exhausted, she won’t awaken until we get back to the temple, I assure you. And if she does, you’ll just be in the other room.”

Anakin looked at you once more before smoothing the hair back from your face and gently placing a kiss on your forehead. He let his palm run down your cheek before he finally pulled himself away and walked into the cockpit with Obi-Wan.

“So, how did you plan pan out?”

Anakin looked at his former Master, unamused. “I think you already know. How’d you know to come get us, anyway?”

“Well, when you didn’t come back or even attempt to contact the Council for over a day I assumed something had happened. I tracked your ship.”

Anakin nodded. “If not for Y/N, we’d probably both be dead.”

Obi-Wan laughed. “I heard! Four guards?! You’ve found yourself a good one.”

Anakin smiled. No words were needed, everyone knew that was completely and utterly true.

------

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ncssian · 3 years

Text

A Favor: Part Fifteen

Nessian Modern AU

Masterlist

a/n: NSFW!!😈😈 please disregard colorado window tinting laws for this chapter

***

Cassian has yet to regret getting Nesta that personalized record, despite the fact that she plays it everyday on repeat with a near obsession. Is this what true love is? Letting your girlfriend blast the same songs through your home again and again, and never tiring of it? Never tiring of her?

He doesn’t get to ponder on it, because while Nesta spends the week lazing pantsless around the house (“I’m getting ready for the party,” she states while he rubs her feet. “Spiritually and all that.”), Cassian has to figure out how to turn the cabin into an inviting space for forty wealthy guests.

All of Nesta’s shit gets shoved in the back of his bedroom closet. Personal items and framed pictures of the two of them are swiped off any surfaces. Lights go up around the house. Catering is secured.

By the time it’s all finished, the cabin has been stripped of all warmth and familiarity and turned into something chic and upscale, suitable for a small gala. Nesta stares around at the space when it’s done, her face revealing nothing.

Cassian points to the small sitting area on the second floor, directly above the open living room, that leads outside to the wraparound balcony. “We’ll be able to see fireworks from there,” he says. He turns to see Nesta’s face is still carefully blank, the way it is when she’s thinking too many things at once. “You sure you want to do this?” he asks. “It’s not too late to cancel the whole thing.”

She looks at him in horror. “It most certainly is. The party’s tomorrow.”

“Still not too late.” Cassian might not have that much power in the overall Night Court hierarchy, but for Nesta he could figure it out.

She smiles wanly but shakes her head. “We’re doing this, and we’re not letting it go to hell like last time.”

***

Nesta knows her sisters are aware that she’s on the guest list for the party (though she can’t imagine what Cassian’s explanation for that one was), but she still stiffens when she enters the cabin through the open door. Her eyes fall on various men and women that she’s never seen in her life, all glammed up and dripping self-importance, until recognizing Feyre and her boyfriend laughing with an older couple in a corner. The only thing that brings Nesta a little peace is that the snide woman, Amren, isn’t here tonight, having chosen to spend New Year’s with her boyfriend in California instead.

Nesta eases up when nobody takes notice of her, though a few nearby guests throw appreciative glances in her direction. She looks like a disco ball in her sequined wrap dress, and a freezing one at that. She shuts the door behind her, sealing the winter air out, but quickly pulls her hand away from the knob. It feels like the door isn’t hers to touch. She realizes that even though the cabin is her home, no one here except Cassian knows that.

Speaking of Cassian, she needs to find him. Nesta is not such an advanced creature that she knows how to survive in a room full of strangers on her own, and she no longer cares if anyone finds her clinging to Cassian weird.

She makes it three feet before she’s accosted by Morrigan, carrying her usual champagne glass like it’s an extension of her.

“Nesta!” she exclaims, loud and bright as ever. She smiles broadly, with too many teeth. “You’re here.”

Nesta blinks in response. She doesn’t understand how Morrigan benefits from this exaggerated excitement. Is it supposed to be insulting or polite?

“By the way,” Morrigan adds when Nesta doesn’t reply, “what exactly are you doing here?”

A heavy arm slides around Nesta’s shoulders, pulling her close. “I invited her,” says Cassian with a smile. “Because she’s my friend, and this place is practically hers.”

“Oh, I think that’s an exaggeration,” Nesta says sharply, trying to step away from Cassian.

He holds her closer. “No it’s not. We were roomies for over two months, remember?”

Morrigan winces, looking between the two of them. “Right,” she says slowly. “I keep forgetting that. Cassian is like this with everybody,” she says apologetically to Nesta. “Don’t take him too seriously.”

Nesta nods solemnly, wanting this conversation to be over. “I won’t.”

Her exit is made clear when the doorbell rings. “I’ll get it,” she says quickly, escaping from under Cassian’s arm.

Hurrying to the door, she swings it open.

Eris Vanserra stands looking irritated on the other side. He freezes when he sees Nesta, and then his face lifts into a smug grin. “Oh, this is too good.”

“So Cassian Madani was your sugar daddy all along?” Eris asks her later.

“Say sugar daddy one more time. I dare you.” Nesta stands near the stairs with her arms crossed, trying to pretend she isn’t associated with Eris. Which is more than a bit difficult when he keeps badgering her with questions, and Cassian is giving the two of them odd looks from across the room.

“I mean, what are the odds?” he laughs.

“My sister is dating his CEO brother.”

Eris throws her a look of surprise, but Nesta says, “How do you even know him?”

Eris sticks an hors d'oeuvre from a nearby platter in his mouth. “He manages security and logistics at every event Night Court is involved in. Can be a real pain in the ass to work with when I’m trying to get shit done for my dad’s company.”

“You’re a pain in the ass,” she retorts.

They’re interrupted by Feyre and Rhys appearing before them, Feyre with her hostess smile and Rhysand with an inquisitive look on his face. Nesta can’t tell which one of them is more attached to the hip of the other.

“Eris,” Rhysand greets smoothly.

“I see you’re already acquainted with my sister,” Feyre says. Her tone is tense, either because she’s still pissed at Nesta or—even worse—she feels protective of her.

“We’re classmates,” Nesta says tightly. “Does it matter?”

Feyre tries not to look hurt. “No—I just didn’t know.”

“Well, now you do.”

“Ladies,” a new voice says warningly. Cassian’s left whatever droll conversation he was stuck in and made his way over to them.

“Is the entire party congregating here?” Eris looks around himself.

“No, we are not,” Cassian says, all his usual friendliness gone around Eris. “I just came to ask Feyre to talk to the representatives from Spellbreaker before they pull all their money out of our latest operation.”

Feyre’s eyes go wide and her tattooed hand goes to her chest. “That’s not really my job—”

“Oh, come on, darling.” Rhysand slides a hand around her waist. “I’ll go with you; the art of negotiating is easier than it looks.”

Nesta nearly pukes in her mouth, but she maintains a careful blank face until Feyre and Rhysand are successfully out of sight. Cassian turns to Eris with a stony look. “You’re still here?”

Nesta sighs internally; this man has never hidden his feelings in his life.

Eris shares an amused glance with Nesta as if he’s thinking the same thing. “Is there anywhere else I should be right now?” he replies.

“Maybe in hell.”

Nesta claps a hand on Cassian’s shoulder and fakes a smile at Eris. “Tell your brother hi for me,” she says while pulling Cassian away. “I miss talking to a sensible redhead.”

“That’s because you have awful taste,” Eris calls after her. Nesta drags Cassian deep into the hallway, where no one lingers.

She releases him without flourish. “Are you doing okay? Because it seems like you’re having a harder time with this than I am.”

“I’m fine,” Cassian defends. “I was just hit with a terrible memory back there.”

“Like what?”

“That you’re friends with Eris.”

Nesta rolls her eyes. Friends is a very liberal term, but she won’t correct Cassian while he’s acting like this. “Thank you for helping with Feyre and Mor,” she says instead. “I didn’t need it, but I still appreciate it.” It’s a hard thing to admit, but she wants him to hear it.

“I was just trying to get you alone,” he says, leaning against the bathroom door. “I’ve been trying to get you alone all night.”

Nesta looks him up and down, from his white dress shirt and tied back hair to his uncharacteristically polished shoes. “For what?” she says warily. “If this is about a sex thing, don’t bother. There’s nowhere in this house for us to go without raising suspicion.”

Cassian pushes off the door with a dark look. “I wasn’t going to suggest staying in the house.” He holds a bronzed hand out toward her. “Wanna get out of here?”

***

Cassian doesn’t remember how he ever managed to fit all six-four of himself into the cramped backseat of his truck when he was fucking girls in college, but for Nesta he figures it out somehow.

Her pretty little dress is shoved down to her midriff, baring her arms and flushed breasts, and her skirt is bunched up high enough that Cassian can watch as he moves his fingers inside her. The glow of lights from the cabin lands on her perfect face as she throws her head back in pleasure, and he can only watch her in awe.

He laughs lowly when she whimpers and eases a third finger into her wet heat, in no rush to return to the party anytime soon. Let them all wonder where he and Nesta wandered off to.

But Nesta has far less patience than him; she pulls him in for a frenzied kiss and uses the distraction to slide her hand into his boxer briefs, palming his cock. He groans into her mouth as she pulls out the length of him from his unzipped pants, and it’s at that very moment that two voices interrupt their panting.

“Thanks,” a muffled female voice says from outside the truck. Cassian looks up through the dark tinted windows to find—Jesus Christ—Mor accepting a cigarette from Rhys. The two of them stand some feet away from the truck, unaware that anyone is occupying it.

“Some way to end the year,” Rhys is saying, watching the clear night sky. Nesta’s gone completely still beneath Cassian, not needing to get up and look to know who stands in the driveway. “Would have been even better without Nesta terrorizing Feyre at every turn.”

Sickness turns Cassian’s stomach at hearing such ugly words about Nesta come from his brother, but that sickness is quickly replaced by rage as Mor huffs a laugh. “She’s not that bad,” Mor says, taking a pull from her cigarette. “Though I could do without the attitude at every damn gathering.”

Rhys clicks his tongue. “She’s always been like that, even when the sisters were kids. It kills Feyre.”

Cassian glances down at Nesta, terrified of what he’s going to find on her face. But Nesta doesn’t look hurt or enraged like he expects. Instead, she’s listening closely with her brows furrowed, studiously intrigued.

Noticing Cassian’s attention on her, she meets his eyes and her breath hitches. A blush takes over her cheeks, and she clenches involuntarily around the fingers still deep inside her. Cassian realizes that his fury is written all over his face. And she likes it.

His anger at his friends flickers—or rather, transforms. Slowly, he pulls his fingers out of Nesta. He sits up a bit straighter and kneels properly on the backseat, earning a curious look from her. Hunching so his head doesn’t hit the truck ceiling, he wraps his hands around her thighs and maneuvers her legs up, up until they’re hooked over his shoulders. She nearly chokes at the new position.

He adjusts them so his cock is pressed right up against her sex, and looks out the window again, where Rhys and Mor are still talking. It’s all idle gossip, he knows, but... “What do you think, baby?” He slides his length over her slick folds. “Should I go out there and defend your honor?”

“Absolutely not,” Nesta gasps, shaking her head.

“And it’s like when she’s not quiet as a brick, she’s being rude,” Mor rants outside, flicking her cigarette. “I know Cass is friendly with everybody, but I have no idea what he was thinking inviting her here.”

“Oh, she’s not so quiet when I have my head between her legs,” Cassian murmurs at Mor. He glances down at Nesta with a knowing smirk. “She’s not so rude when I give her the right incentive, either.” He pats her bottom lip with his thumb, the bright red lipstick smearing. “Isn’t that right, Nes?”

“Bastard.” Nesta squirms, trying to line up her entrance with the head of Cassian’s cock. She’s not even listening to the conversation outside anymore.

“I think he likes her,” Rhys says, his breath clouding in the freezing night air. If only he knew. “We don’t always use reason when it comes to people we like.”

“Maybe,” Mor ponders. “But I can’t imagine it going anywhere. They’re too different.”

“I disagree,” Cassian mutters. He finally gives in to Nesta’s efforts and pushes inside her, sliding to the hilt in one thrust. She claps a hand over her mouth to stifle her moan.

“There are plenty of things we have in common, don’t you think, Nesta?” He sets a steady rhythm with his hips, pumping in and out of her. “Like how well we fit together.” Her head bumps the car door with every thrust.

“You—you’re gonna rock the truck,” Nesta tries to whisper. Cassian hides his smile in the crook of her knee at the rare use of informal contraction. She’s adorable.

“We wouldn’t want that to happen,” he teases, leaning forward to take a pert nipple into his mouth. A whimper slips past her lips; she’s nearly bent in half beneath him. With this new, deeper angle, Cassian moves slow enough that Nesta feels every solid inch of him.

His loose hair falls around his face as he drops his head to the center of Nesta’s chest. It takes every bit of restraint he knows not to suckle at the space between her breasts, not to leave reddened marks there that everyone will be able to see when they go back inside. But damn if this position isn’t driving him crazy.

Mor, Rhys, everything beyond the haven of the truck falls away. He doesn’t know if anybody is still outside, or if people have noticed his and Nesta’s absence from the party. He doesn’t care, not as he swears and thrusts particularly deep into her tight warmth.

Even her hand can’t contain the sound she makes at that.

Cassian moves one of his own hands to the crown of Nesta’s head, creating a barrier between her and the car door. With his other arm, he locks her thighs into place against his chest, and begins slamming relentlessly into her.

“CassianCassianCassian—”

He silences her with a searing kiss, and flicks her clit with a calloused thumb. Nesta scrabbles at his arms, at the seat upholstery, as her orgasm crashes into her. Her walls milk his cock almost painfully, and with a few more thrusts he’s coming, too.

As he rides out his climax, he intertwines their fingers together and presses them to the freezing window. Outside, there is no one to see the handprint they leave on the fogged up glass.

***

Nesta needs a moment to catch her breath while Cassian zips himself up. Leaning against the hard truck door, she achingly fits one arm back into the sleeve of her dress, then the other. “I think I have a bruise from where that seatbelt buckle stabbed me in the ribs,” she mutters.

“Where?” Cassian looks her over, but she waves him away and reaches over to dig in the back pocket of the driver’s seat, finding a packet of makeup wipes she left there some weeks ago. She plucks out a wipe for herself and tosses the rest of the packet at Cassian’s chest, which is covered in her lipstick marks.

He accepts the wipes with a “thanks” and begins rubbing at his reddened mouth and neck. Nesta watches him instead of wiping at her own lipstick, taking in whatever the light of the moon highlights: his unbuttoned shirt, his loose hair that fell forward into her face while they fucked, his skin peppered with her marks.

He notices her stare. “What?” he says, smiling.

“Have you ever done that before?” She nods outside to where Mor and Rhys were standing ten minutes ago. It wasn’t exhibitionism since nobody had seen them, but it still felt... dirty.

Cassian snorts, starting to button up his shirt. “I’ve done far worse.” He meets her eyes. “I don’t think I’ve ever gotten off to the sound of other people shit-talking my girl, though, so that’s new.”

Nesta blushes, and pretends to look around for her shoes to hide the reaction. She’s always known her bedroom experience was pathetically limited, but she’s just now starting to realize how much of that was Tomas’s fault. Not only was he boring when it came to sex, but he left her too hurt and untrusting to try anything with other men until Cassian came along.

Cassian nudges Nesta’s knee, and she finds him already holding her heels. Instead of letting her take them, he takes her feet and starts putting them on for her. “Clean yourself up,” he directs as he buckles a silver strap into place. “It’s almost an hour to midnight.”

Right. Cassian tosses her her panties, and she uses them to clean up the mess between her thighs before discarding them on the floor. “Don’t—” he tries to protest, but sighs and gives up. “You’re filthy.”

“You love it.” She picks up her forgotten makeup wipe to scrub at her smeared makeup. “Do I look okay?” She turns her face to him after a moment so he can check.

“You missed a spot.” He takes the wipe and rubs at her chin. “There,” he says softly, gazing more intimately at her than usual. “Beautiful.”

She most certainly doesn’t look beautiful right now, with the mess that’s been made of her face and hair. But he seems to believe it all the same.

I love you. The thought comes to her suddenly, unexpectedly.

“What?” Shock turns Cassian’s face.

Nesta blinks, realizing the words weren’t only in her head. “What?”

“You said—”

“I said ‘Let’s get out of here’,” she says quickly, swinging her legs down from the seat and reaching for the door handle. “Let’s go!”

She shoves out of the truck without waiting for Cassian and foots it for the cabin, breathing harshly like she just fell from a great height.

***

Nesta goes straight to the master bedroom to redo her makeup and pick up a new pair of underwear. She knows it’s cowardly to leave Cassian downstairs, stuck chatting with wealthy donors and unable to follow her, but she won’t let him confront her about the confession that spilled back in the truck. Not yet.

When she finally finds the courage to stick her head out of the room, she nearly jumps at the sight of Azriel leaning against the hallway wall.

“What are you doing in my brother’s room?” he says, as if he was waiting for her to come out.

The best lies are half-truths. “Avoiding people,” she answers vaguely, exiting the room fully and shutting the door behind her. She clears her throat. “What are you doing here?”

“Snooping.” He pushes off the wall and slides his hands into his pockets. “It’s interesting; I don’t think I’ve seen you all night, and now I find you in Cassian’s bedroom of all places.”

What is this, an interrogation? “I’m good at blending in,” Nesta says. “Few people ever notice me.”

“And I’m good at observing,” Azriel retorts, dark amusement gleaming in his gaze. “Where did you run off to earlier?”

Nesta looks him up and down, too bored to bother answering him. “I’m going to go now.” She shoves past his shoulder and walks away, leaving him too stunned to follow.

She comes across Elain near the top of the stairs.

“Nesta,” her sister says in surprise. Her brown eyes flicker past Nesta’s shoulder, to where Azriel still lurks in the hallway. She looks back to Nesta. “I wasn’t sure if you actually came tonight. I haven’t seen you at all.”

“Yeah, I’ve been hanging around.” Nesta waves a dismissive hand. It’s like Christmas Eve never happened between them. That’s the wonderful and terrible thing about sisters, Nesta supposes: there are no apologies, only moving on and moving past.

“Well, you look like you’re doing good.” Elain seems distracted. “I wish we could talk more, but I don’t have time for a fight tonight.”

“That won’t be a problem,” Azriel says, who’s snuck up behind Nesta. “If it’s me you’re worried about, I was just about to leave.” He’s addressing Elain, but won’t quite look her in the eyes. He turns to Nesta instead. “Happy New Year.” And then he’s gone down the stairs.

Elain stands there looking torn, wondering if she should go after him or not, but then Nesta says, “Why do you assume I would start a fight?”

“I—”

“Because if I remember correctly, our last fight was started by you.” She crosses her arms.

Elain sighs. “I just said I don’t have time for this.”

“I’m asking a question in response to a comment you made unprovoked.” When Nesta is calm, she can talk circles around Elain all night.

Elain throws her hands up. “It was just a stupid comment! I said it because we argue all the time. I can’t remember the last time we talked without arguing.”

“September twenty-eighth,” Nesta snaps.

Elain’s mouth drops open. “Are you serious?”

“Yes. You got the loan for your flower shop approved and you called me to celebrate. I was happy for you.”

Elain shakes her head, but Nesta can’t read what she’s feeling. “You remember the most inconsequential things.”

It doesn’t sound like an insult, so Nesta shrugs. “Don’t bother me and I won’t bother you.” She turns to go on her way. Of course, Elain doesn’t stop her. She’s never been one to get in the last word.

***

It’s ten minutes to midnight and Cassian still hasn’t been able to get a hold of Nesta since she ran from the truck. He doesn’t know why she’s running from such a simple truth, but he doesn’t plan on giving her much more time to hide. He has so much he needs to say to her—

A hand comes down on his shoulder as he’s about to slip away upstairs to find Nesta. Cassian turns to find Rhysand there, wearing the serious face he only uses for work-related business. “I need to talk to you about something.”

Cassian is not in the mood. He already had to repress the urge to find Mor and Rhys and tear into them when he returned to the party, and now he’s not sure if he can manage a conversation with his brother without snapping. Without spilling everything he’s worked so hard to hide.

“Not now,” Cassian says, trying to act chill. “It’s almost midnight and I’m trying to catch the...” He trails off as his eyes catch on Nesta, who’s appeared at the second floor sitting area with Eris.

“...fireworks,” he finishes. He turns to Rhys. “Let’s go upstairs to watch.” Half the guests, including the rest of his friends, are probably already outside for the countdown.

He keeps his eyes on Nesta as he climbs the stairs. Watching as she takes notice of him and quickly turns away, smiling at Eris instead. She lets the dickhead place his hand on her back to guide her out to the balcony.

Rage and disbelief take Cassian by the throat. Hiding in another man’s arms to avoid him? Coward fucking move, Archeron.

She steps outside with Eris, and before Cassian can follow he’s stopped once again by Rhys grabbing his arm. “Cass, will you slow down and listen to me for a minute?”

“What is it?” he snaps impatiently. They’re stopped at the top of the stairs, and other guests flow past them as they head for the balcony doors.

Rhys inhales, getting visibly irritated. He says, “I got a call from one of our overseas partners the other day—”

“Rhys!” Feyre calls from the balcony doors, waving her arms at him. “Get your ass over here, it’s almost midnight!”

Rhys turns to his girlfriend, his face lightening. “Be right there, darling.” He gives Cassian a sharp look. “We’ll finish this later.”

Cassian only nods and whirls on his heel, nearly shoving people out of his way to get outside. To get to Nesta.

Up on the wraparound balcony and down below on the frosty ground, guests are lined up with their partners, wrapped up in coats and eagerly awaiting midnight. He barely feels the cold, but he knows Nesta must. He should have grabbed a coat for her.

“Thirty seconds to midnight!” someone announces, answered by loud cheers.

Spotting shining red hair, Cassian grabs Eris by the suit jacket and whirls him around. “Where’s Nesta?” he demands over the loud chatter.

Eris makes a face like he’s been manhandled by a filthy dog. “Clearly not with me,” he retorts, shoving Cassian’s hand off him. “She got all pissy and went that way.” He gestures at a faraway section of balcony where most of the guests are crowding, hoping for an optimal view of the fireworks.

“TEN!” Someone starts the countdown. Others quickly catch on.

“NINE!” Cassian heads in the direction Eris pointed, searching through the sea of glitter and gold for a glimpse of Nesta.

“EIGHT!” He hears his friends calling after him distantly, asking where he’s going.

“SEVEN!” He catches sight of Nesta.

“SIX!” He doesn’t know what he’s thinking as he navigates through the crowd, reaching for her. But he knows she’s shining brighter than the moon right now. He knows he’s been fooling himself since the moment she stepped into his cabin this past September.

“FIVE!”

He closes in on her, her back turned to him.

“FOUR!”

Let’s not go out of our way to hide this anymore, they agreed after Christmas Eve. Let’s just be ourselves around our friends and family, and they’ll find out when they find out.

“THREE!”

In Cassian’s defense, he’s simply being himself in this moment.

“TWO!”

He takes Nesta by the elbow and spins her around. She meets his eyes in surprise. “Cassian. I was looking for you—”

“ONE!”

He pulls her into his arms and kisses her.

***

a/n: punk 57 was a shit book but i gotta give it credit for the truck scene

taglist: @hellasblessed @sjm-things @thewayshedreamed @drielecarla @valkyriewarriors @superspiritfestival @aliveahaahahafuck @cupcakey00 @sayosdreams @rainbowcheetah512 @claralady @thebluemartini @nessiantho @missing-merlin @duskandstarlight @lucy617 @sleeping-and-books @everything-that-i-love @cassianscool @swankii-art-teacher @awesomelena555 @julemmaes @wickedqueenoffantasy @poisonous-bloom @observationanxioustheorist @gisellefigue08 @courtofjurdan @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @wolfiixxx @cass-nes @seashade @royaltykxx @illyrianundercover @queenestarcheron @monstrousloves-explodinggalaxies @humanexile @that-golden-lyre @agentsofsheilds @mercy-is-alive @cassiansbigwingspan @laylaameer01 @verypaleninja @maastrash @bow-dawn @perseusannabeth @dead-on-the-inside666 @jlinez @hungryreadingaddict @anidealiveson @planet-faerie @shallowhighwaters @ghostlyrose2 @chosenfamily-valkyriequeens @rarephloxes @readiajin @nessiantrashh @live-the-fangirl-life @ifinallygavein

#nesta archeron #nessian #cassian #ncssianwrites #a favor #nessian fic #nessian au #for some reason i’m not showing up in the tags??#i’m gonna kill everybody

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omgbubbletea · 4 years

Text

Dating George Weasley Would Include

Let’s get one thing straight, it doesn't matter what house you're in

Sure, it would be a bonus if you were in Gryffindor because that would mean he wouldn't have to sneak into your common room to be with you

Blood status also doesn't matter to him

If he loves you, he loves all of you

The reason you and George are together is all thanks to Fred

He had grown sick and tired of George constantly talking about you

How pretty you were

How nice you smelled

How he felt butterflies every time you smiled at him

The boy must have been in-love or something

On the other hand, Fred had found out you had feelings for George by constantly bugging you on the subject till you cracked and told him

Being the oblivious pair George and you were, neither of you had realised the others feelings

This is when Fred decided to take matters into his own hands

His plan consisted of locking both you and George in a janitors closet until you both confessed your feelings

He had told you guys to meet him in this particular closet for an emergency meeting

With the two of you being so ignorant, you walked into this closet, wondering where Fred was and why he had chosen such a weird place to meet

As soon as you guys crossed the line, that’s when Fred had locked the door

“Fred! what are you doing? Let us out!” (you and George started to yell)

“If you guys want out, then there’s something you should get off your chest first”

You both knew instantly what he was talking about

Fred’s plan was almost fool-proof except for the fact that both you and George had your wands and could just alohomora your way out

Oh, wait...

Fred had known you too well and knew you both always left your wands in the dorm during free time before dinner

“Fred this isn't funny”(George was starting to get on edge)

“Do you hear me laughing?”

The closet was small(but who said you found it a problem(; )

A couple of minutes passed

“Look (y/n)...”(George began to say slowly)

“I- I like you”

“I like you a lot, more than a friend probably should”(was that his heart pounding in his chest George could hear?)

At that moment your head shot up to meet his gaze

Did he just confess his feeling to you?

Did he feel the same?

Hope began to form in your heart

“George...”(he was ready for his heart to be broken)

“I’ve felt that way since I first met you”(a smile began to break on your face)

When I tell you that that boys smile lit up the room

Nothing more was shared at that moment except for a hungry kiss

He had been craving your lips for awhile now

Of-course the moment only lasted so long before Fred swung the door open

“Ew, gross guys!”

The two of you just grinned

If you are not in Gryffindor, then your days usually consisted of sneaking into the others common room

It’s a usual thing

Cuddling on the couch

Playing board games

Your friends(and others in your house) are used to seeing George around

Surprisingly, you guys have never been caught(thanks to the marauders' map)

He’s always waiting outside of the common room so you guys can walk to breakfast together

You guys always sit next to each other in the great hall

If you are in a different house, he will walk you to your common room at the end of the day and give you a kiss goodnight(which usually gets a bit heated)

Pet names

Darling and gorgeous are his most used

You can’t help but get butterflies every-time those words roll of his tongue

“Well hello gorgeous”

Small forms of PDA

Hand holding

Arm around your shoulder

Arm around your waist

Temple kisses

Cheek kisses

Knuckle kisses

He LOVES it when you play with his hair and just melts into your touch

I have a theory that the twins give the BEST hugs

Bear hugs that engulf you

Hugs from behind where he pulls you closer to him

(and he’s always so warm...like what?)

You love wearing his jumpers

Yes, they are always baggy on you

You love the smell of them though(strawberries, vanilla and a bit of a smoky hint)because it’s just like having George there

He gives you one of his jumpers to keep so you would stop stealing all his other ones

It’s your favourite item of clothing and you always wear it to bed

Your first “I love you” came out of nowhere

The two of you were in the common room studying for an upcoming test

You should have been in your bed by now but of-course this test was more important than your exhaustion

With papers strewn across the table and your hand cramping from writing, you continued with your work, although George had stopped

Suddenly, you had become aware of him gazing at you

“Can I help you?”

“It’s nothing, you’re just...so beautiful”

You couldn’t help the blush that bloomed on your cheeks

“I love you”

The phrase was just audible

You had looked up in shock unsure if you had heard right

George was yet to comprehend what he had said when it all hit him

“Oh (y/n), I’m sorry! It just sort of slipt out- I didn’t mean to say it- I mean I want to say it because I love you but not that-”

You just chuckled at his constant rambling

“George, calm down, I love you too”

“I don’t want to make you se- wait, what did you just say?”

“I love you too”(you said it gently)

“Really..?”(he didn't sound too convinced)

In gesture, you gave him a sweet kiss, melting into the moment

It seemed to calm his mind

Spending summer and Christmas at the burrow

Molly loves you

She knits one of her famous sweaters for you for Christmas

If you are muggle-born(or even half-blood), Arthur loves when you tell stories about muggle life

When Ron was younger, he had a BIG crush on you

Now when he thinks about it, he just gets embarrassed

Ginny looks up to you(and thinks you're a bad bish)

You and Ginny love to have sleepovers together and gossip about all the people in Hogwarts

You also get filled in on all her latest “love life” with Harry

Fred is one of your best and closest friends

He is happy that George found someone to make him happy

You’re Fred’s wing-women(although he doesn't agree because you haven’t done the best of jobs)

You guys love to tease George together

Although it’s mainly just Fred teasing you and George

“Can you guys get a room?!”

It was in those moments that Fred may have regretted locking you guys in that closet

As much as he loves you, he does get a bit tired of hearing George talk about you all-day(nothing changed since he confessed his feelings for you)

Lee is also a close friend to you

It was only inevitable for you guys to bond with the twins being best friends with him

Many times have the two of you tried to get back at Fred and George with a prank

Sadly, the twins somehow always manage to know what you guys are planning

Let’s just say they prank you guys twice as hard for trying to outdo the masters

The twins are always playing “light” pranks on you

From dying your hair bright pink

To slipping a small amount of love potion into your drink

It’s always a risk being around the two of them

They love to get you involved in their pranks

This usually means standing guard though):

You remember this one time in potions when you were first learning about amortentia

There was a fresh batch of it at the front of the class and everyone around the room was trying to get a whiff

“Do I even have to ask what it smells like to you darling?”

You closed your eyes and gave a sharp inhale

“Vanilla, candy apples and amber” (you had said it so innocently)

George’s face was painted in horror

“What?!”

He was in disbelief because he KNEW he didn’t smell of amber or vanilla

“CEDRIC?!” (the twins spoke rather loudly in unison)

“But- I- wha-”(George began to stutter on)

At that point, you couldn’t hold in your laughter any longer

“I’m only joking!”

When I tell you how quick that boy calmed down

“Oh thank Merlin”

That was revenge for staining your teeth blue for a whole week!

In all honesty, the pained look on George’s face when he realised you may not love him pained your heart

On the other hand, Fred thought it was hilarious

(If) you play quidditch for Gryffindor, then you are a chaser, otherwise, you are whatever position you got placed into

If you are not in Gryffindor, then you are always watching the quidditch game and supporting the twins(unless it’s your house playing)

He loves to find you in the crowd

You’re his #1 fan

Steamy kisses after the game

If they win the game then it’s going to be a lot more than kissing(;

He has ended up in the hospital wing a couple of times because of the game

It has never been too serious but you still can’t help but worry for him

“You know, even with a black eye and bloody face, I’m still the better-looking twin”

Fred just cracked up

“He must still be a bit loopy from all that pain killer”

If you don’t play quidditch, then George has defiantly tried to teach you

It didn’t go too well

You ended up falling off the broom at only 1 meter off the ground

Face-planted into the grass

Ended with you having a dislocated jaw

George felt guilty for the rest of the month and wouldn't stop apologising

Meanwhile, Fred had fallen on his ass from laughing too hard

Trips to Hogsmeade

Raiding Honeydukes

Dates at the Three Broomsticks

Drinking enough butterbeer to get tipsy

Lots of puns and dad jokes

You were once learning how to produce a Patronus in DA when someone had just spelled a deer

You looked over at George to see him struggling a bit with the spell

And that’s when the awful pun left his mouth

“Oh deer, I just can’t seem to produce a Patronus”

You tried to hold in your laugh

“Shove off Weasley”

He takes you to the Yule Ball

It’s a magical night

Full of dancing

Screaming the lyrics to the songs playing

Drinking fire whisky that Fred had smuggled in

Drunk snogging to the point where Snape found you guys and took 5 points off each of you

Dancing around the common room

Sneaking into the kitchens to steal food

Tickle fights(I feel like George is very ticklish)

Swimming in the Black Lake on a dare

Snowball fights in the winter

He never fails to make you laugh

He is more of the shy, reserved twin

Sometimes you just have to remind him that he is loved and noticed

He will compare himself to Fred and it will never be positive

You will reassure him and hold him for however long he needs

If what he needs is a good vent then you are ready to listen no matter what you are doing

He is more important

He is also more of the jealous twin

Don’t get me wrong, he won't go all psycho boyfriend when he sees another guy talking to you

He respects you and knows you would never leave him for someone else

But if there is flirting going on or the guy is trying to make a move

Let’s just say his temper won't last long

“Hello darling”

Que passionate kiss between George and you

“Sorry mate, she’s already taken”

You had never seen a guys face go paler

Or seen George go so smug

He always knows what to do when you're sad

He will listen to your every last word if you have to vent

Or he will hold you in his arms for hours while whispering sweet nothings into your ear if all you want to do is cry it out

By the end of it, you can't help but feel just a little bit better because of him

He loves to hear about your day and you can’t deny that he is the best listener

He low key has separation anxiety

He LOVES to spoon

Definitely the big spoon

Although he can’t help but love to be the little spoon sometimes

“Hey um...Do you mind if we?...”

“You wanna be the little spoon?”

“Yes please...”

He’s smiling on the inside

He may be a little shy in public but he’s a freak in the sheets if you know what I mean(;

He’s usually top but it drives him crazy if you switch rolls

I feel like he’s a hair puller?

Will always make sure you’re comfortable with everything

Super gentle at times

But also can be rough...

Would never do anything that would hurt you

Lots of cuddling after

He loves to give you flowers just to see you get all flustered

One time he stole flowers from the school grounds

Little did he know, Mcgonagall had seen the whole thing

“Mr Weasley, are those flowers from Professor Sprout’s greenhouse?”

The look on his face was a dead give away

“Funny story actually Professor...”

Let’s just say it wasn’t the funniest of stories

Braiding his longer hair

Showers together

Piggyback rides to class

Studying in the library with Fred(but he usually just gets bored and leaves)

He reads to you

Basically he is perfect in every way and will love you till the end

#Harry Potter #weasley #fred and goerge weasley #george weasley #fred weasley #george wealsey x reader #george weasley imagine #fred weasly x reader #fred weasley imagine #weasley twins #hp #harry potter x reader #imagine #x reader #imagines #y/n #hogwarts #weasley x reader

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multistanman · 3 years

Text

Suncream

Fromis_9 Seoyeon x Male Reader

1930 words

Had a rush of ‘inspiration’ after seeing this photo. I can only apologise for my style potentially being jarring or any other issues. I think it was only an hour or so but it’s hard to know when in a ‘boner haze’

Mondays sucked, no two ways about it. Fortunately, you had managed to get the day off work thanks to the manager suddenly having to call in sick due to "unforeseen developments" the night before. So whilst everyone else was going to be stuck inside of a cramped office building on such a fine day, you decided that you were going to spend some time relaxing and taking in rays on the beach. As you had predicted, the beach was mostly empty because, well, who on earth goes to the beach on a Monday morning. There was only one other person present and they seemed quite happy to mind their own business listening to music. With the hope of preventing any unwanted confrontation or awkward interaction (the fateful last words), you put down your towel behind and just right of the other person. But, of course, your luck ran out and you dropped your water bottle straight onto your foot, immediately suppressing the outrageous string of vulgarities you were about to release. Evidently, the attempt was not good enough as the girl lying in front of you turned around, curious of the muffled bottle on human violence occurring behind her. She pulled down her sunglasses for a better view of what was going on. Her eyes were quite stunning, with subtle dark circles surrounding her hazel irises, making her look sort of like a panda. No doubt you looked quite insane in this moment. A man on a beach on a Monday morning bouncing up and down cursing underneath his breath with no apparent cause staring into this random girl's eyes all the while. The girl, however, seemed entirely disinterested, tutted at you and returned to her music and tanning. You eventually got yourself settled onto your towel, taking special care not to drop anything else in slight fear of panda eyes tutting at you again. You stared at the ocean for a wall before you saw the girl moving in your peripheral vision. She had sat up for a drink of water but seemed to be struggling to remove the lid of the bottle. As a chivalrous gentleman, you moved to offer to help. At which point, she did manage to get the bottle open but not in the way one would typically open a bottle. With all the force she was putting into removing the lid, she ended up jerking the bottle upwards when it finally came loose, dousing herself in water. You stopped in an squat halfway between standing up and kneeling, not sure quite what to say or do in the situation. Your knowledge of chivalry only extended so far. A gentleman should not interfere when a lady has gotten wet after all. You both remain still in the end until eventually the girl begins to dry herself off with the towel, looks at you in your strange half squat and tuts again. That was now two tuts you had received in the space of fifteen minutes from this same girl. In a very strange way, it was sort of refreshing to see someone with such little care. Some more time passes as you both return to your original positions until you are once again distracted by her movement. This time it seemed she was re-applying her sun cream. She sneaks a quick glance at you before shaking the bottle up and down and popping the lid up. She squeezes a sizable amount onto her free hand and begins to work it into her abs and stomach. You had become quite entranced by the sun cream-centric performance happening before you as she sensually rubbed the remaining cream into her skin. The girl then moves onto covering her thighs, seemingly not realising that you are watching the whole ordeal with your mouth agape. In order to get her thighs, the girl decides to sit on her knees, giving you a wonderful view of her ass in her denim shorts. Her ass swayed from side to side as she massaged the sun cream into her thighs. It was at this point, that she finally caught you peeking as she looked over her shoulder, clearly feeling your eyes undressing her from behind. You panicked and grabbed the book that was lying next with the goal of looking as smooth and relaxed as possible. You tried to seem as nonchalant as possible as the girl walked up to you and asked "You like what you see huh?" "Yep, I mean this book is amazing. Crazy that you've read it as well, I mean what are the chances of that?" was the best response that you could think of under pressure. She clearly called your bluff as she pulled her sunglasses down so you could see those cute panda eyes again. But, instead of tutting at you again, she hands you the bottle of sun cream and turns around, beginning to tie her hair up into pigtails so that you could properly cover her back. Given that this girl was even talking to you after you had so blatantly ogled her, encouraged you to try and use up all of your luck. You took the bottle and poured some sun cream onto both of your hands. You massaged the sun cream in between the girl's shoulder blades and worked your way up to her nape making sure you to press your palms into all of the sensitive areas. You thought you heard a slight moan but it could have been sunstroke getting to your brain. You finished up the application with some professional masseuse level karate chops and went to hand the bottle back. The girl takes the bottle and you sit back down, still wondering if that was an actual moan that you heard when rubbing it in. That question was quickly answered when the girl straddled you, once again handing you the bottle as she motioned towards her breasts and chest. "How rude to leave a girl uncovered like that" she added before leaning back slightly, inviting you in. You obliged because you were not going to pass up the opportunity to essentially feel this beautiful girl's breasts as she was sat on your lap. As you poured more sun cream onto your hands, the girl removed the mesh top she was wearing leaving her only in her vanilla bralette, shorts and a necklace hanging perfectly between her breasts. Her breasts were not the largest but they were pushed up nicely by the top and they fit her smaller frame nicely. By this point, she had also removed her sunglasses and was sat looking expectantly at you with those damned panda eyes. You tentatively began to rub the sun cream into her chest but she grabs your hands and pulls them onto her tits and starts massaging herself with your hands. She bites her lip seductively and pushes you down onto your towel. You both look into each other's eyes as you feel her hands work up underneath your shirt feeling up your chest and abs. Your lips locked as she caressed your upper body and your tongues collided in an unholy mess as she tried to assert her dominance over you. You were quite happy to take the backseat and let her do the work on top of you. She got tired of your mouth as her hands walked their way down to your shorts, unbuttoned them and pulled down both your shorts and boxers just enough that she could pull your now erect cock out. Without any hesitation or adjustment, she takes your whole cock into her mouth and looks up at you. It seemed strange to admit but the panda eyes + mouth full of your dick really was a good look for her. She twisted and jerked the base of your cock with her hand as she sucked up and down still maintaining the eye contact. You felt your toes stretch and crunch as she ran her tongue up the underside of your cock and finished by licking your urethra and you knew you were coming close to cumming. You relayed this information to the girl and she immediately stopped sucking your dick, edging and teasing you. The girl gets off your lap but only to remove her own shorts, revealing the lack of underwear underneath. She once again straddles your lap this time with her naked vagina lips lined up above your cock. She slowly lowers herself down, allowing some adjustment this time as you lustfully buck your hips upwards trying to bury your hilt further and further. She continues sinking down until your penis is fully inserted at which point she starts bouncing up and down on top of you. During this, the girl starts massaging her own breasts and adjusts her previously-formed ponytails, unsure where to put her hands. Seeing this, you push your back up slightly, grab hold of the ponytails yourself and pull her down towards you as you engage in another chaotic makeout session. This elicits a cute giggle from the girl on her way down as she continues riding you and you try to match the rhythm by bucking your own hips upwards, pushing as deep as possible. You match her tempo perfectly and she has to stop kissing you to moan right into your ear. You were already close from the edging earlier and that moan just about pushed you over the edge. You tapped the girl's back and she seemed to instantly catch on to what you meant as she got up off of you. You were expecting her to kneel down and keep jerking you but instead she rolled you off your own towel and lay down in your place and whispered two words that you could not have been happier to hear. "Paint me" You stood up and jerked your cock as the beautiful girl you had just randomly met on your day off lay below you with no bottoms on and waiting for you to cum on her. It didn't take much as you sprayed white streaks of cum, initially, on those succulent abs that you had watched her rub sun cream into earlier before working your way up to her face and neck. The girl smiled the whole way through as she sat up with your cum starting to run down her nose and lips. She thanks you as she rubs the cum into her abs as if it was sun cream. She allows the cum on her face to stay there as she redresses herself with the discarded clothes. You stand there in disbelief at whatever has just happened. The girl goes back to her bags and fiddles around with something for a bit before coming back over to you. She walks straight past before giving you a love tap on your naked ass before telling you to pull your shorts back up and then just leaves. You quickly restore your dignity, not wishing to be caught naked by some stranger. Although, thinking about what just happened with that girl, maybe it wouldn't be a such a bad interaction. As you go back to relax on your towel and gather your scrambled thoughts you feel a piece of paper in the pocket of your shorts. "Thanks for the cum, stranger. Much better than sun cream ;) Thinking about going camping soon, hmu (0XX-XXX-XXXX) Seoyeon" There was a cute little panda face scribbled at the bottom of the note and you put it back in your pocket, making a mental note to call that number later on. Mondays sucked a whole lot less now...

Thank you for reading, any feedback welcome. Wrote it quickly just because I had a rush of inspiration really.

#smut #fromis_9 #seoyeon #fromis seoyeon

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whump-town · 3 years

Text

Lie to Me

Guess who's back on their shit?

Another cancer fic for you because there's something very weird about me that stays drawn to the idea of secretly being sick

Anyways

Warnings: well... cancer

Pairings: none? yet.

Supervisory Special Agent Hotchner has a certain reputation around the office. The BAU’s ghost, walking around in his leather dress shoes and fancy suits without so much as a groan from the old, torn tile beneath his feet or the muffled swish of the material of his slacks. You never know he’s there until he wants you to and by then it’s always too late. By luck of his poor hearing or his natural affinity for silence, nothing admitted in his silent presence ever graces his lips for a repeat. The secrets all die with him. He’s as loyal as a dog -- in ways that lead to natural gravitation. The reason why Penelope Garcia beams at him every time their paths cross, why she so eagerly rushes to match his pace. To just walk beside him and talk his ear off even though she knows her answers will come in the form of soft hums and furrowed brows. In other ways, it’s killed him. Left him to live the life of a lame dog, dragging his dying body away from them. Hoping to spare them the agony of his death.

Some things that people say about SSA Hotchner are true. He really does move like a ghost and it’s a thing of great mystery and annoyance. It’s cost Emily Prentiss numerous mugs but perhaps the flash of his smug crooked grin makes that worth the shattered cup at their feet (she wouldn’t agree with that statement). He’s made Derek Morgan nearly jump out of his skin, whirling around to attack whatever snuck up on him only to find Hotch frowning back at him. If asked, David Rossi will blame Hotch for 79% of the grey hairs on his head because he hadn’t even begun to go grey until he met Hotch.

He’s really not as scary as people make him out to be.

Penelope Garcia wishes everyone knew that. She wishes cadets looked at Hotch the way that they look at Derek and Spencer. As awe-inspiring giants, they crane their necks to look up to. Instead, they lower their eyes away from him. Whispering to one another about the rumors and the things that they have been told. They regard him as a lesson -- someone to measure their existence against. To know when to get out of the job. To know when they can no longer turn back.

He’d saved her when it seemed no one else in the world really looked at her. She’d watched him take her homemade pink stationary in his hands, held it delicately as he looked over what menial ideas she could think of. He’d looked at her kindly, not at all like the snobby FBI brat she assumed him to be, and shaken her hand, “Thank you, Miss Garcia.” For the months following her career change, he’d been too kind. Brought her lunch to her desk because she was too anxious to leave her office. Gave her advice about where to park and how to miss Strauss in the hallways.

As important as his approval is to her, his well-being is more important. So, no, she doesn’t turn away when she sees him on Saturday in the emergency room. He’s sleeping off a cocktail they’d given him, turns out it’s rather hard to place a catheter near the heart when it’s beating erratically. His anxiety had nearly caused him to be sick and so he’d agreed, finally, to let them give him something to calm him down. Which is where Garcia finds him, left arm cradled to his chest, too long limbs hanging off the stretcher, and breathing slow and steady through the oxygen canal under his nose. A precaution, that’s all, given the sedatives they’d doped him up with.

“Sir?”

The fingers in his left-hand twitch, flexing towards his palm and he grunts softly at the pain that the movement causes. Slowly, breathing hitching and his eyes fluttering open, he wakes up. He’d heard, vacantly, the hesitant “sir” from the end of the bed but he assumed it was a nurse. As his eyes rise up to search the room he’s surprised, entirely so that he thinks he’s hallucinating, to find Penelope.

“Are you okay?”

He’s still piecing together the last few hours but nods. Cracking open his dry lips he swallows thickly, trying to work his voice around the tightness in his throat. Dehydrated and still disoriented he reaches for the cup of water left for him but at the current angle that he’s laying at, he can’t get it. He clears his throat, sniffling, “can you, ugh--” He’s still looking at the cup, dazed to the point he can’t think of the words he means to say. Tired eyes look back at her, pleading silently that she understands.

Penelope nods, moving forward instinctively. She doesn’t look at him, at his dark blood dried to his arm. His hospital gown stopping just at the clear protective barrier between her and the port placed on the inside of his arm. “Here,” she whispers. She needs to be closer so he doesn’t have to stretch but can’t bring herself to be close. Not within his reach. Not so close that she can see the dark rings of sleepless nights carved under his eyes. Far enough away that the tremble in his hand is easily overlooked. So that he doesn’t seem as weak and frail as his voice sounds.

He sips the water, knows from too many mistakes not to drink too much just yet. “Why are you here?” He nearly sounds like himself, dark brows furrowed and voice taken its steady, deep rhythm back.

She looks over her shoulder, past the curtain pulled around them for the sake of privacy. “I, uhm, volunteer for a support group that meets every Saturday here at the hospital.” She points to the front desk, to a woman with curly hair pulled back in two ponytails. “I came downstairs to say hi to Mac and I saw you and I just…” Suddenly, realizes how she shouldn’t be here. That if he wanted comfort he’d have told them, or someone.

Wait. Stop.

That doesn’t matter. Hotch doesn’t know what’s good for him. Everyone knows that. So she made the right decision to come over here.

“You’re not driving yourself home, right?”

In her silent contemplation, he’d began to fall asleep again. The cup in his hand dangerously tipped and eyes held open by slow, deepening blinks.

“Hotch?” She touches his hand, flinching away at just how cold his skin is.

He cracks his eyes back open, cracks of soft brown iris finding her slowly. He hums, mouth cracked open.

“Will you let me take you home?”

Home. He hums again, vaguely aware of her warm hand coming to rest over his. Moving his stiff fingers away from the cup, taking it from him so he doesn’t spill it over himself.

It’s meticulous work, keeping him awake. Even harder making sure he gets dressed but once he’s sitting up he’s much more alert, grumpy now for being duped into asking her for help. She’d offered it but that means nothing to him. He’s no less thrilled to find his brain too foggy and arm too weak to work his arm through his sweater. She still smiles when his head pops through, hair a crazy mess on his head.

She packs him carefully into her car, a boxy little thing he’d frowned at when she bought it. He’d been the reason behind Morgan and Reid both coming to her office with statistics and fear about the safety of it but she’d loved it. He’s a worrier, prone to stewing and her car had taken up a lot of his energy for the first year she owned it. Now he’s being packed into the green monstrosity, senses assaulted by incense. Everything’s sparkly and he ends up sitting with a teddy bear in his lap, a troll in his hand. He’d taken their rightful place as her passenger.

His legs do not fit no matter how far back he moves his seat back and Penelope feels awful that he looks so uncomfortable but also finds it to be humorous. His knees to his ears, dark scary Agent Hotchner holding a stuffed bear to his chest, head resting against the window. It’s sweet.

It’s fairly easy to figure what his thought process today when she pulls up to his house and no one’s home. Jack’s camping, she learns. He’s dozed off again, prone and more willing to whisper half-truths. Will be away for the whole weekend until Tuesday morning. Jessica is getting her nails and hair done, he’d made the appointment just to make sure she really did it. The haircut should have ended just in time that he could call her and ask if she’d pick him up from the hospital. Where he thought he would have already artfully hidden the PICC line under his sweater and played the affair off as a routine sort of deal. A check-up.

“Sir…” she’s standing now, awkwardly, in his living room. The curtains are drawn back the way he likes, closing off the sun. He’s tucked under his heating blanket, trying to remain awake for the sake of the fact that it’s rude to fall asleep while entertaining guests. Yet, failing miserably. “Sir, I was just wondering… Is everything okay?”

“I’m--” the truth nearly slips right out. He clears his throat, managing to sit up just enough to catch her eyes. “Don’t worry about me, Garcia. Jessica will be around in an hour.” He holds his left hand closed, trying to stop his cramped fingers from twitching. “Dave and Emily are coming by for dinner. I’ll be okay.”

It’s completely unethical.

It’s so unprofessional.

But she can’t help herself.

Her eyes prick with tears when Emily shakes her head in the kitchenette, the sound of Hotch’s wet coughs breaking through his closed office door. “He needs to get that checked out,” she sighs, hiding her bleeding worry with annoyance. “Sounds awful.” And Penelope stands there with Hotch’s secret tongue-tied.

He’s getting worse and fast.

She gets a call from Derek, seething anger laced into his words. “He fucking-- He fucking just-- .” She knows it’s really just fear. Can hear him walking, his rapid pacing as he tries to outwalk his expanse of emotions. “He -- He shouldn’t be in the field. I mean, it’s like he didn’t even see it coming. He was just…” She remains steady. Wipes the tears that slip past her eyelashes with the back of her hand. Derek cries, on the ground with his knees to his chest, and he tells her what happened. How Hotch was paying attention to him and if he hadn’t been then maybe…

She greets them at the elevator, feels her smile attempt to waver when Hotch’s tired eyes raise from the ground. The bruise along his cheek a deep agonizing yellow, the wound on his temple still weeping angrily through the bandage. He can’t fly until his concussion is healed, longer if his tinnitus doesn’t get better. “It’ll be fun having you home,” she assures him, giving his fingers an extra squeeze.

Luck, it seems, has never seemed to favor Aaron Hotchner’s particular brand of bold.

Working at the District Attorney’s had been a morally fulfilling job. In theory, he could rest assured, each night, that he was doing what he could to help people. He was putting the real bad guys behind the bars. Even as his dreams filled with the images of the victims who had to wait for months, and even years, to get their proper justice. In reality, he slept poorly and rarely. Unable to properly maintain his workload without impossibly long hours. With time he found his work to be unfulfilling. He was doing nothing to stop crime from happening and sinking further into the realization that was failing more people than he could ever begin to help.

In court, he was ruthless. Haley didn’t like the man he became in the courtroom. Ruthless and harsh, he appeared evil and terrifying with his hawk-like eyes and infallible ability to pinpoint weaknesses in his opposers. Around the office, they nicknamed his alter-ego “Hot-head Hotchner” because the Aaron that gets flushed ordering lunch couldn’t possibly be the same man who made a man wet himself on the stand. Haley couldn’t agree more.

Hot-head Hotchner got him offered a job in corporate law, several firms were throwing big numbers at him to encourage that lasered focus to be on their side. Lest they find themselves opposing it. Morally, he could never go into corporate law but the offer to spend hours bending law into something pliable and poking holes in judicial wordings was compelling. It would be complex, rewarding work with a big pay-out. Better than the shitty salary he made at the D.A.’s office. Before he could make the compromise he met David Rossi and he never got his chance to bend the law to his will, he held his moral ground and instead changed career paths.

It was bold leaving what he knew he was good at for something new entirely.

A costly decision.

He never got to fulfill his secret desire to mold the law but bending the truth wasn’t a far cry from the same thing. Lying has never been something he felt comfortable with and that had no exceptions. He hadn’t wanted to tell the team Emily had died but that had far less to do with his morals and so much more to do with a picture much bigger than himself. The hell he knew that would rain down upon them in the weeks to come. The inability of the team to cope. Intuitively something holding them back and what they could only assume was a stage of grief.

To Emily Prentiss, he has never lied. Stretched versions of the truth he maintains to not be the same thing as a lie. If they count then his answer would be different but the eye of the beholder adds context. And as the holder of this context, he resolutes the power to declare them very different.

“New girlfriend?”

He’s breathing through a bought of nausea attempting to take him off his feet. The cold countertop biting into the skin of his wrist, his palm pressed flat to the surface so that he doesn’t grip the edge. So that his pale bloodless knuckles holding onto dear life do not betray the severity of which he fears he might get sick or pass out.

His phone is on the counter, turned upside down so that he doesn’t have to see the screen light up with every new text that comes through. The high-pitched “ding” of each new message is lost to the tinnitus he’s been succumbing to now for the better part of the week. No amount of coffee or Tylenol has helped.

Raising his gaze makes the pounding in his head worse but he has to meet Emily’s questioning gaze. They’ve started to notice his “off” behavior. His inability to stand for long amounts of time without physical drain. His decision to stay home on the last several cases, working here with Garcia rather than joining them in the field. The way he relies on Morgan’s lead more than he used to, falling silent and allowing the other man to make decisions. He suspects they just assume he’s looking into retiring or that he’s struggling to kick his “chest cold”, he doesn’t bother correcting them.

“No,” he manages, swallowing around the heaviness of his tongue. The way his mouth seems full of salival added pangs to his stomach as he knows he’s going to be sick. “It’s Jessica.” She’s angry with him and for good reason, though he doesn’t offer an explanation as to why.

Emily hums, raising her eyebrows and shaking her head. “What’d you did you do to piss her off?” In other circumstances, he might assume she’s attempting to pry. She’s just here for another cup of coffee, offering him a way to release some of his stress. No hard feelings if he suggests she fuck off and willing to lend an ear if he wants to talk. She’s not holding her breath but she hopes he comes undone. That he admits to some awful conspiracy and that this whole time they’ve been in some twisted social experiment to see how unified they actually are. That he isn’t as sick as he looks. That he’s just in a low spot and in a month he’ll be putting the weight back on and Derek will be telling them all about training for another marathon. How Reid could do more pushups than Hotch.

“I’m sorry,” Hotch whispers. He tries to step away from the counter. Feels the temperature in the room drops several degrees, his skin broken out in goosebumps. “I think to sit down,” he says frantically, knows now he needs to sit before he passes out.

Emily grabs his arm, tries to help him up. To get him to the chair that’s right there, so close.

“Hotch?” Derek jogs into the kitchen, he’d seen from afar and come running. “Emily, what’s wrong?”

Emily helps him to the ground, hand holding the back of his neck as his body starts sinking faster, beyond his control. She sits down on the ground beside him, eyes scanning across his body to find a feasible answer. Below her, Hotch’s breathing has gone rapid and shallow. His eyes rolled back into his head, neck-craning as he unconsciously fights to get air into his lungs. “I don’t know,” she says. “I don’t know. He just-- He was just--” Hotch wheezes, an awful sound. He chokes, blood coming to paint his lips. To coat his teeth.

“Hotch?” Derek moves to his side, picking up Hotch’s shoulder to move him onto his side. “Hotch, answer me!”

His only reply is a wet gurgle, a blood-coated wheeze.

#tw cancer #criminal minds #aaron hotchner #penelope garcia #emily prentiss #derek morgan #criminal minds fanfiction

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fweasleyswhore · 4 years

Text

Good To You - F.W.

requested by @jasminweasley

a/n: sorry for da wait i feel like doodoo fart

pairing: fem!reader x Fred Weasley, Lestrange!reader x Fred Weasley

summary: Reader is Bellatrix's daughter but grew up with Lupin and Tonks. She has a rare gift that lets her see into the future, her gift that she keeps secret fr a long time makes her relationship with Fred difficult especially as the war comes into full force.

word count: 2.5k

warnings: panic attack, self deprecating thoughts, mentions of blood and death

I stared at my hands as tears welled up in my eyes. There were times, times like now especially, where I felt doomed. The blood that ran through my veins was stained, dirty. My mother, Bellatrix was a notorious Deatheater. I knew one day she or her lord would come for me. I didn’t know when, this wasn’t something I saw, this was just an instinct feeling I couldn’t shake. The future could change, I knew this. Things, with intervention, can change. The outcome can be prevented.

This, I knew, would not be one of those things.

I shook violently, silently, as sobs racked through my body. My hands shook and I placed them on the cold ground to steady myself. My black hair fell in my face as air escaped me. Gulping I tried to breathe but it never sufficed. Scrambling to stand and fill my depleted lungs, I felt dizzy as I stood on my wobbly legs. I stumbled toward the railing. Looking down the dark landscape I considered it. Letting go would be easier, the height from the astronomy tower would do the trick. My grip tightened on the railing once more as I remembered Remus and Tonks.

They raised me, per Sirius’s request. They changed my name, they hid me away. They kept me safe. But they couldn’t change the fact that I am who I am. My blood is her blood, she will take me away. Y/N Lupin was who I wanted to be, I believed I was her for a while, but after seeing what I did. My lungs constricted more as I let out the first audible sob. I fell to my knees, still clutching the railing like a lifeline. The image of Remus and Tonks’ dead bodies, reaching out for one another, blood-stained, covered in dirt as I stood over them.

Bellatrix and Voldemort would come for me. I didn’t see it, I knew it. I would kill my parents, I didn’t see it, I knew it. My nails dug into the metal, scraping and falling back to the ground as air denied my lungs again, scraping at the cold floor I willed my lungs to fill, but they didn’t. The best I could do was short breaths that were gone just as soon as I heaved them. My head felt dizzy and heavy. My skin felt like fire and my tears felt cool against my skin.

“Y/N?” I closed my eyes, shutting them tightly. I didn’t need to have another vision, I couldn’t take it. The voice repeated itself, I dug my nails into my palms as if willing my body to stop. I knew no matter what it would happen, I was afraid to see what I feared most. That I was responsible for my parents’ death, the only people who knew the real me and loved me regardless, raised me with love, wiped my tears away, and tucked me in bed. I couldn’t turn them, I wouldn’t in my heart, but whether I wanted to or not was a question the Dark Lord considered.

Suddenly I was jerked back, my hands were crossed against my chest as I was hugged tightly into someone. Hair ticked the side of my face, I could feel their racing heart against my back.

“Y/N? What’s wrong?!” Fred’s voice spoke into my neck. His presence was calming and for the first time since I started crying, I felt air fill my lungs. I curled into myself, crying, and taking deep breaths in between sobs. He never let go of me. Holding me against my chest as he whispered small sweet things into my ears. My eyes, swollen, stopped leaking and my chest heaved. I picked myself up, leaning into his chest. His arms tightened around me, looking down at my face that rested against his shoulder. He pecked my cheek and nuzzled into my neck.

“Do you want to talk?” His question was whispered into my skin, I barely heard it over my uneven breathing.

Fred didn’t know who I was, he knew the facade of me I kept for my safety. I didn’t feel like a Lestrange in my heart, but the image replaying in my mind told me I wasn’t a Lupin either.

“Fred, there’s going to be a war.” My voice was hoarse and dry from crying. It hurt to use. I sniffled before speaking again. “Fred, I’m afraid something bad is going to happen, I’m afraid it’s going to be my fault.” My voice broke as my tired eyes teared up. I felt him pick his head up, he unwrapped his arms from around me, before I knew it he had turned me around so I was facing him. He picked me up and moved me on top of him so I was straddling him. He let go of my legs as I wrapped them around him and cupped my face.

“You. Are. Perfect.” He pecked my face in between words. I giggled at his antics, heart swelling with adoration for the boy beneath me. “You are on the right side of things, I promise. We are working with your dad, with the order, and with Harry in preparation. I know there will be a war. We are fighting, and I, am fighting for you, and for our future.” My breath hitched at his words. Speechless and unable to express myself verbally I pushed my lips against his. His lips worked with mine as I tried to express each ounce of love I held for him in my actions.

I pulled away and looked at him. “Freddie I don’t ever want to be without you.” It was true, Fred could make me forget, he could make me happy.

“Good thing I’m not planning on leaving.” He whispered back. I couldn’t help but smile. When we kissed this time and I lost my breath, I didn’t panic. It was a feeling I welcomed, breathing in Fred I no longer needed air.

A lot of things changed since that night, Voldemort had returned, although we all knew being friends with Harry but not the minister was behind us. Fred and George had since left and ran a very successful business in Diagon Alley, I finished school but now I work with them in their shop. My visions had hit me in full force, they were coming in more frequency and it was hard to continue and try to hide it when I would fall to my knees three times a day. Fred was noticing, George too, I blamed it on not eating or eating too much but the fear inside me grew. They knew I was lying, they always did.

I was holding a box of sweets when the familiar dizzy feeling washed over me, my body started to go slack and I ran to the counter and placed the box down. Gripping the counter so hard my hand cramped I willed myself to stop.

“Please.” I whispered hoping it would stop it but to no avail. I went numb as I was submerged into another view point. I watched as a hand I didn’t recognize stroked a cabinet, the door opened and at the bottom there was a dead bird. I heard a faint crying noise before everything went white. Feeling my body again I blinked as the shop came into view. I felt someone behind me so I looked up to see Fred hovering over me, his face was contorted in worry, his brows were furrowed and his chest heaved as he looked me over.

“Freddie,” I scrambled in his arms so I was facing him. “What?” I couldn’t tell if he was angry or upset, his face was expressing something I had never seen before, his eyes were distant and glassy.

“I am taking you to a doctor, a muggle and wizard one. Now.” He spoke with so much authority, I felt anxiety bubble up in me. The more frequent the visions came the more often he found me on the floor, out cold. We had multiple fights, each one ending with me saying I’m fine and him looking upset and checking out medical books from the library or apparating to his mothers then apparating back with tea.

He started to get up but I didn't. I just sat there, debating my options. I knew that the doctors wouldn’t help, it would be a waste of time and the more things heated up the worse I would get. “Freddie…” I spoke softly.

“No! We are not having this fight again, Y/N, there is something not right and you need help.” He looked at me pleadingly, outstretching his hand. I didn’t budge, looking at him with the same pleading look.

“I know why this is happening.” I spoke slowly, I calculated each outcome in my mind and my palms started to get sweaty as I felt the nervousness build up again. I was afraid he was going to reject me, throw me out, be angry. I knew I shouldn’t have kept it to myself but most of the things I saw aren’t pretty, I didn’t want to worry him with that but fear built up in me as I realized he wouldn’t see it that way.

I watched as he dropped his hand. He walked over to the counter, gripping it in a similar fashion to me before I fell. I got up and walked to the other side across from him. I looked at him, searched his eyes, waiting for him to meet my gaze but he kept it fixed on something behind me. I decided not to push, I leaned over and placed my hand on his gently but I was met with no reaction.

“Is it bad?” He asked, his voice was weak, a stark contrast to his current demeanor.

“Baby, I’m not sick,” His jaw clenched so I grabbed his hand, intertwining our fingers. “I promise. Look at me, please.” He finally ripped his eyes away from whatever he was staring at. His sad eyes pierced mine, seeing his happy eyes which are usually filled with happiness and swirling with mischief now glossed over and dripping with fear. I saw through him in that moment. He was clutching my hand like it was the last thing he wanted to do. He was afraid of losing me, I equally was afraid of losing him.

“I can see things, I don’t know how but it happens and it's happened since I was a child.” I cringed slightly at saying the word child. “Uh, Lupin, he always suspected it was because of my blood.” I trailed off not wanting to finish.

“Blood?” He deadpanned. I knew holding back wasn’t helping and it was only making this harder. I sighed, squeezing his hand lightly.

“Fred I’m not Tonks and Lupin’s kid. I was given to them by Sirius who took care of me for a while but when he was prosecuted and taken to Azkaban that’s when Lupin got me. They changed my name for my safety, my last name used to be Lestrage.” I talked fast, the words tumbled out of me like word vomit.

“As in…” He trailed off and his eyes went wide. Swallowing I shook my head warily.

“Bellatrix, yes. Listen I’m sorry, they don’t know who the father was, they assume that its a pureblood but all my life I’ve had visions, I am able to see things before they happen and with things getting worse I have been seeing more and more. Dumbledore said it was a rare gift, one he hadn’t seen in a really long time I-”

“Why did you never tell me?” His voice was weak like before, I couldn’t decipher his emotions so I just answered.

“I have seen some unsavory things, I didn’t want to worry you. I didn’t tell you about her because I don’t see myself as her daughter. I like to believe that I’m more than my blood relations because you and George, and Lupin, you’re family.” Tears were streaming down my face. I was clutching his hand, waiting for his grasp to loosen to pull away.

“Darling…” His soft tone took me off guard. He pulled his hand away and I stiffened. I shut my eyes, waiting for him to tell me to leave, to get my stuff and go, never come back. When I felt him wrap his arms around me I gasped. I immediately wrapped my arms back around him and I held him against me. For the first time, I felt him. I felt him without the empty lies and the secrets putting a distance between us. I felt him and the world around us was gone, in his arms I felt at home and at peace. “What have you seen? Anything with us?”

I pulled my head up to look at him. He was smiling down at me as his eyes twinkled. “I just told you that and you want to know if I saw you?” I was amused with him, his antics made me forget the pain I was feeling in that moment.

“Well I just mean like in the future, do we have a few little ones running around?” He began swaying side to side as he asked and I felt a laugh escape my lips as I watched him with a happy smile. My tears since long forgotten.

“A few?” I shrieked out, I couldn’t help myself once the realization of his words hit me. “What do you take me for a baby machine?” He looked down worridley trying to read me but seeing my smile he relaxed.

“I just mean, I always thought we would have a big family. No?” His eyes flickered between my own as if coxing the answer out of me.

“I wouldn’t mind Weasley, or having the name by the way. I figured we would get there when we got there, after you proposed with a long beautiful speech that brought me to tears of course.” I rested my head on his chest as I spoke, listening to the way his chest rumbled as he chuckled at my words. I soaked up his warmth. I always dreamed about having a future with Fred. It was something I thought about a lot but we talked about it rarely. He would make small comments when he was sleepy but I didn’t think much about it. His forwardness now made my heart swell knowing he wanted exactly the same thing as I did. “To answer your question no I have never seen it, our future that is. But do I see a future with you? Yes, and there is nothing more I want than to have one with you.”

I felt his arms tighten around me as he rested his head on my own. “I think I like the way Mrs. Weasley sounds.” He whispered it so lightly I barely heard it.

“I think I do to, especially when it’s next to Mr. Weasley.” I smiled contently as I listened to him let out another low chuckle.

“Me too, Y/N, me too.”

#fred weasley #fred and george #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley fluff #fred weasley fic #fred weasley angst #weasleys wizard wheezes #george weasley #weasley twins #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley one shot

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rainii-reads · 3 years

Text

Chateau

DESCRIPTION: After a fateful encounter, you and Yoongi have finally decided to go public with your relationship.

This was inspired by the song Chateau by Tokio Hotel. Bolded dialogue are direct lyrics.

WORD COUNT: 1, 903 PAIRING: Idol!Yoongi x Reader GENRE: Fluff and comfort

Warnings: Implied slut shamming; analogies referencing cuts (there is no self-harming, only references to words hurting.)

Author’s note: This is my first fanfiction for BTS, and my first story in a long, long time. Hope it’s not too bad! You can also read it on AO3.

🌸

Taking up Arms: ARMY Feuds Over SUGA and Y/N

As news of BTS’s SUGA sweeps the kPop world, fans are divided. Many ARMYs citing Y/N as a clout seeker - stealing their Min SUGA. ARMY’s on the offense challenge the perceived ownership of the Bangtan rapper. This brings to question, however, do these fans approve of the relationship or are they simply defending SUGA?

The Next Yoko Ono: Will Y/N be the end of Bangtan Sonyeondan

Silence rings clearer than the stroke of the keyboard. Three weeks have passed since word broke of the famous rapper’s new relationship. The onslaught of hatred continues to poor out in droves, yet silence remains from the musician’s fellow members. Is it possible the six comrades also dislike Y/N?

Anti-Y/N Accounts Take Twitter by Storm

In the last week Twitter has taken action and began removing dozens of accounts dedicated to canceling Y/N. While Twitter works to delete the insults and threats of harm, where is Big Hit? Will they take action to protect BTS’s SUGA and his new sweetheart?

“Sweetheart?” You snapped. “And what’s with the italics – we all know you’re being sarcastic. No need to lay it on thicker.” You fumed for a moment longer, at the snippy report, before you found your laptop being pulled from your grasp. You dared not look up at the sleepy gaze of the man in debate.

“Sweetheart, why are you reading the headlines again?”

It was the truth. Your streak of laziness was something Yoongi often appreciated about you. It resulted any many home dates and working side-by-side in the Genius Lab at all hours of the day. Shared moments you loved. However, you couldn’t handle any more inquires from that man, he had been unyielding for days, and you were slowly breaking.

“Excuse me, are their free refills on black coffee?”You had asked, trying to spare him from the one-sided conversation (if it could even be called that). Yoongi used the moment to escape and take a seat at the table nearest you, waiting for his iconic iced-americano. You remember the sweet smile he gave you as he mouthed ‘thank you’ – the start to your simple chitchat about the shop’s décor and more.

You often giggle as you remember the notes you passed on the plane ride home. The ones kept safe in your nightstand. Had you not looked up, the moment he walked down the cramped isle, Yoongi wouldn’t have shared a smile with you, before taking his seat in first-class.

Within an hour of the flight, a young, excited stewardess had come to your seat handing you a folded sheet of paper. Noticing she was waiting for you to read the note, you unfolded it and struggled to stifle the laugh that emerged. “So, who is your bias?” Yoongi wrote in memory of when your phone rang at the coffee shop, announcing your ARMY status as Converse High played. It was the rare time you had left your sound on.

From time to time, you wondered about the excited flight attendant. You wish you could see her again just so you could tell her thank you for putting up with Yoongi’s archaic flirting. Had she not been so kind and willing, your relationship may not have formed.

These and many more memories were what put you to ease when you sat in a conference room at HYBE Entertainment. It was there where plans were made for the announcement your relationship with the one and only Min Yoongi of BTS. Photos of your not-so-secret dates had progressively found their way onto Tumblr and Twitter, gaining the attention of gossip sites. However, it was more appropriate to call it an interrogation than a planning session.

“Y/N,” you remember the head of PR starting, “Are you sure there are no past scandals that will cause Min Yoongi any problems?” The intention behind ‘scandals’ had not been lost on.

Your usual demeanor was gone as you snipped back. “I’m pretty sure I was too lazy to have any scandals.”

Yoongi snorted as he held back his laugh.

It was the truth. Your streak of laziness was something Yoongi often appreciated about you. It resulted any many home dates and working side-by-side in the Genuis Lab at all hours of the day. Shared moments you loved. However, you couldn’t handle any more inquires from that man, he had been unyielding for days, and you were slowly breaking.

Your sarcasm hadn’t gone unnoticed. “Do you not understand what kind of position you are putting our artist and company in? We need to be prepared for whatever we will need to clean up after you. You need to take this seriously.” Intentions ringing clearly, again.

In your heart, you knew he trying to do right by Yoongi and the company, but the judgement that wove into his words cut. You also took offense to how he made you sound like a disease that clung to Yoongi, bringing him harm.

As you looked back, it was the first of many wounds that told you, you were unworthy of Min Yoongi.

“Y/N is very aware of what implications a public relationship will have.” The man in question spoke, his tone shifting as he said, “She is more than clear of any scandals. Worst we’ll see are malicious lies and rumors – no truth within them – and that is where this discussion will end.” As Yoongi spoke, his few words carried immense weight. For each previously inflicted cut, his words bandaged themselves around to ease the pain.

Heeding the warning, the interrogation ended, and the meeting regained its original focus: preparation for the announcement and aftermath.

Two weeks after the tense convening, the news was released through an official statement form HYBE, confirming the relationship of Min Yoongi and his new girlfriend. The media and social-media platforms were instantly in a frenzy and, as planned, everyone remained silent. It had been decided that everyone would keep silent for a month, to see what would earn a response.

That singular month had been the sharpest cut to your fragile skin.

_______________________

Breaking through your thoughts, Yoongi spoke again, “Y/N.”

You looked up at him, finally, and sighed. “I’m sick, okay? I can’t help but want to see what is being said about me, about us. Did you see they’re calling me Yoko Ono? Will the media ever cease with the constant Beetles comparisons? Don’t they see you guys are tired of responding to the accolades?”

He spared you a look, leaving you to end your rambles. The rambles he knew you were using to deflect from your current, unhealthy obsession.

“I really can’t help it Yoongi,” You sighed. “In less than a week we can finally speak out and I need to know what I’m defending myself against.”

In an almost languid fashion, he placed the laptop down and sat next to you. Pulling you closer as he organized his thoughts. “That’s not really for you to worry about. The company and I will handle that.”

“No, I need to do something. I can’t just hide behind you. People are talking about us and they’re going to watch and critique every little thing we do. I know that isn’t what we discussed, but this anxiety is unlike anything else.”

He reached out and gently ran the tips of his fingers down the sides of your face, smoothing out any traces of stress. The very hand that famously held a tight grasp on a black microphone, was now the source of your ease. The very hand that was adored by many, was saved for you.

“Here’s the thing,” he spoke slowly, “People are gonna talk. So, let them talk; let them talk about us. People are gonna watch. So, let 'em touch, let 'em see, let 'em feel what love is.”

They were simple words, yet, as the always did, they healed the damages from the last three weeks.

Tears overwhelmed your eyes, gliding down to touch the tips of his fingers. “Let it all go, since it finally happened.” He had worried about the brave face you had been parading. “I know they’re going to talk. I know they’re going to watch. Baby, I don’t mind as long as it’s you and I. We’ll just let them see what real love is.”

As you processed the abundance of emotions that had accumulated, Yoongi held you close. Occasionally whispering the right sentiments to soften the anxiety more. While you laid with him, you wondered: Exactly how much had to go right for you to be with him? The gossip columns may say that the two of you were different, too different in fact, but your time together showed you how alike you were. How right you were for each other.

Many more challenges awaited you, but with him you knew it would be fine. You were not coming down from your cloud.

_______________________

Later that evening, as the tears dried and the anxiety eased to rest, you proposed a trip. “Hey, the next time were in California we should stay at the Chateau Marmot.”

“Isn’t that place haunted?” His abundance of quirky knowledge never ceased to amaze you.

After a quick search to confirm, you scratched the plan. “I’ll find another chateau. One free of the paranormal.”

A short moment of silence passed before you asked your next thought, “What did you mean earlier when you said, “let them touch”?

Yoongi looked up from his phone and paused for affect. “Don’t know. It just sounded right in my head – I didn’t mean anything weird by it.” He laughed, exposing his renowned smile.

“Pervert.” You teased, tossing a pillow his way.

In an unexpected fashion, Yoongi lunged forward seeking retaliation. Having not anticipated it, you stumbled off the bed, in an attempt to run away, but he pulled you back before you could escape. In the most cliché of moments, he tickled your sides until the fits of laughter led to you sharing a loving gaze and slow kiss.

“You’re right,” you said as your lips separated, “Let ‘em talk – we’ll show them what real love it.”

_______________________

The Power Couple that is Y/SN

A year has since passed since news of Y/SN occupied our every thought. In celebration of our favorite power couple, we’ve broken down the Top 10 Reasons why we love Y/SN!

Goals: How do we land a relationship like SUGA and Y/N’s?

Recently, photos and videos of a not-so-secret date between SUGA and Y/N made their way onto the internet. As the young couple is seen leaving Chateau de Sureau, they’re hand-in-hand showing signs of laughter. The love between the two is so clear not even an anti-Y/SN could deny it. So, the question remains, how do we get our own fairytale romance?

We’ve been asking, but has SUGA?

The question all fans of Y/SN have been wanting to know: When will SUGA ask the big question? Our sources suggest it may be sooner than you might think. As BTS wraps up their latest world tour, preparing to go back to the studio, rumors of the young rapper ring shopping have bubbled up. Whether this is true or not remains to be seen, but we look forward to the exciting news for our favorite couple.

#min yoongi #yoongi fanfic #bts #song fic #fluff

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goldnratio · 4 years

Text

Bad Days and Back Rubs (MGG x reader)

Warnings: uhhhh none unless you count periods and the products needed to handle it, unedited writing

Word Count: 1,576

A/N: lots of italics and idk why. sorry this took longer than expected oops! also I hope u don’t mind I switched up the request a bit :) and reader has a uterus and I tried to keep it as gender neutral as possible. pls enjoy!!

—

When you woke up in the morning, you were almost surprised to have started your period. Granted, you kept a somewhat accurate track of your cycle with an app, but this time around, you had little to no PMS symptoms. Thinking your first day wouldn’t be so bad, you decide not to call in sick to work.

“Baby, why don’t you just stay home?” Matthew asked, wrapping his arms around your torso as you were getting ready in your shared bathroom.

“Because, Matthew, I have work to finish, and if I don’t get it done soon you know my manager will be the first to complain.”

Matthew spun you around to face him and gave you a sympathetic look. “C’mon, (Y/N), we both know your first day is always the worst—“ he brushed a piece of your hair out of your face, tucking it behind your ear— “we can just stay home and watch whatever you want.”

You really wanted to give in to his offer, considering Matthew hardly got enough time at home in between all of his filming. But you knew you had to go to work.

“As tempting as that sounds, my love, the answer is still no. Besides, the cramps aren’t so bad right now,” you said.

Matthew sighed. “Alright, but if you don’t feel good, then just come home okay?”

“I know, I’ll let you know. But I swear, I feel fine for it being my first day on my period!”

—

When you got to work, you started to feel slight back pain and cramps, but they weren’t so bad and you quickly brushed the discomfort off. You spent a while like that, with some odd cramps here and there. Nothing a couple ibuprofen pills couldn’t handle.

During your break when your pain began to increase. While you waited for your tea to heat up in the break room, you figure you should tell Matthew you’ll possibly leave work early.

To Gube💍🧸💖

10:15am

hey baby, might go home early. my cramps are getting a little worse :(

You were starting to wish you’d just stayed home with your boyfriend. Cuddling on the warm couch, watching romantic comedies that would probably make you cry, eating anything that satisfies your cravings.

The sound of your phone’s text tone pulled you out of your thoughts.

From Gube💍🧸💖

10:16am

oh I’m sorry love :( I’m out running errands but I should be home in a few hours, just call me if you want to go home. Love you❤️

To Gube💍🧸💖

10:16am

I think I can handle it for a couple more hours but ok, love u too💞💞

Luckily the ibuprofen kicked in fast, so your pain was dealt with. However, your manager was really starting to get on your nerves, she just kept micromanaging you. Needless to say, it was irritating.

Lunch time came around and the painkillers began to wear off. Not wanting to deal with the period pains and being hungry, you head out to your car and call Matthew.

“Hi, pumpkin, how are you feeling?”

You groan.

“I don’t know, my manager is annoying me and my cramps are coming back— hold on, let me put you on speaker because I’m about to go grab something to eat.”

“On your lunch break?”

“Yeah, I can’t tell if I’m in the mood for Chinese food or pizza.”

“How about you get Chinese for lunch, and we can get pizza for dinner,” Matthew suggested.

“Hmm, that sounds like a genius idea, baby. Let me call you back though, I’m pulling up to the restaurant.”

You’d considered yourself lucky to have a job so close to a shopping center with several food options. Sometimes you walked to get food with a coworker, but walking there and back to work wasn’t happening today, much less with someone else.

“Okay. I love you, (Y/N).”

“I love you too, Matthew. Byeeee.”

Once you have your food and you’ve arrived back to work, you spend the rest of your lunch on the phone with Matthew as you peacefully eat your lunch in the car.

About an hour after your lunch break, you felt your cramps coming back. Only now they felt ten times worse than what you felt earlier, and your desk chair did nothing to help the sharp ache in your lower back. Instead of taking more pain medication, you take another bathroom break, and immediately wish you’d just stayed home.

You didn’t notice you used the last of your menstrual products earlier, and forgot to pack more. You check the dispensers in the bathroom, and thank the stars, the little meter still reads ‘full.’ Sighing in relief, you push the button for the feminine product.

Nothing falls.

You push the button again, still nothing.

Please don’t let it be jammed.

You tried jostling the dispenser, smacking the sides, pushing the different buttons. No luck.

“Great, this is just what I need right now,” you mumble to yourself.

With the cramps and back pain becoming borderline unbearable and your unsuccessful attempts with the product dispenser, you feel tears building up in your eyes. Rather than start bawling over not having your menstrual products, you quickly compose yourself and weigh your options.

I can either ask someone if I can have one of their stash or just go home…Home it is.

As you make your way to your manager’s office, you text Matthew letting him know you’re going home.

It took going back and forth with your manager for almost ten minutes, for her to finally agree to let you take the rest of the day off.

Once you’re out of the office, you notice Matthew hasn’t text you back, so you decide to call him. When he doesn’t pick up, your only choice is leaving a voicemail.

‘Hey, uh, it's me. Figured I’d call you since I’m leaving work early. Sooo yeah, I’ll see you in a bit. Love you, bye.’

It’s a quick drive home, mostly because by some miracle you’re only hitting green lights and there isn’t much traffic around two o’clock on a weekday.

Unlocking the front door, you take off your shoes and toss your bag and keys onto the coffee table.

“Hey, Gube! I’m home!”

“In the kitchen!”

He’s by the stove, about to take off his apron to greet you, but you just wrap your arms around his torso and nuzzle into his chest. “Smells good. Hi.” You look up at Matthew, and he tilts his head towards you to kiss you.

“Hi to you too, (Y/N). How you feelin’, pumpkin?”

“Mmm, tired and in pain.”

“I know, baby, I know.” He keeps you in his arms, swaying a bit, and presses his lips to your temple. “How was work?”

“Ugh, you were right. I should’ve just stayed home.”

Matthew chuckled, “that bad, huh?”

“I mean, actual work was okay, but my day could’ve been better,” you sigh, “it’s just that everything was hurting so much that I wanted to go home, and my manager was being difficult about letting me leave. How was your day?”

“Fine, most of it was spent at the store buying groceries,” Matthew says, “and things for you.” He ‘boops’ your nose, and you smile.

“Speaking of groceries, what’d you make?” you ask, suddenly curious as to what the delicious smells in the kitchen are.

“Well,” Matthew said, and spun you around to see, “I’m making you hot chocolate, some tea for later that should help with your cramps, and there’s a pizza in the oven for when you’re hungry. And I restocked on your favorite snacks.”

“Have I ever told you that I love you?” You playfully ask.

“Only about a thousand times.”

“Then let’s make it a thousand and one times, because I love you sooo much.”

You flash your boyfriend a smile before pulling him in for a kiss. A few moments later, a cramp hits you, and you groan into Matthew’s mouth. He pulls away, but just enough for your foreheads to still touch.

“More cramps?” He softly asks.

“Yeah, any chance that tea’s ready?”

“Of course, baby. Why don’t you go change into something comfortable, pick a movie, and I’ll bring over the tea and some snacks.”

You give Matthew a quick peck on his cheek before leaving the kitchen. “Sounds like a plan, you’re the best.”

After you’ve changed and used the bathroom, you spot Matthew holding a hot water bottle and the remote control. “You ready?”

Halfway through the movie, with your tea and most of the snacks finished, you’re hit with another wave of pain and tiredness. You sit up and climb into Matthew’s lap, peppering sleepy kisses on his neck.

“Gube, can you massage my back pleaseeee?”

Matthew shifts from under you to get more comfortable. “Since you asked so nicely.”

He placed the hot water bottle in between your stomachs and started working his large hands on your lower back, and it feels heavenly.

“Keep going like that, and I might fall asleep right here,” you mutter.

Matthew placed a kiss on top of your head, “Go ahead, baby.”

“Thank you, Matthew, really. For always taking care of me.” You tilt your head up to plant a gentle kiss on his jaw.

“Anytime, (Y/N).”

Within a few minutes, you’re falling asleep in your lover’s arms, and it feels so nice that you briefly forget about all the pain your period’s caused you.

#matthew gray gubler #matthew gray gubler imagine #matthew gray gubler x reader #mgg #mgg x reader #mgg oneshot #mgg imagine #spencer reid #criminal minds #gublernation #alexis writes #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid x reader

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skellebonez · 4 years

Note

oh sick, new prompt list! how about... 23 and/or 45 with more of tang being like a dad to the traffic light trio?

I took some liberty with the second prompt so while I used that one as inspiration it isn't directly in the fill, but the first one is left as is.

No, we’re going to talk about this now./You may technically be an adult, but you’re still my child.

"No," Tang said as he placed 3 cups of tea in front of the trio (plain green tea for Xiaotian, a sweeter lemony tea for Xiaojiao, and a spiced... very very spiced tea for Red Son). "We're going to talk about this now. I have nothing to do tomorrow, there's no need to make you wait for me. Whatever it is I'll listen."

Originally Xiaotian had called him up to ask him to brew some tea for them and bring them up some extra painkillers Pigsy had in the shop's first aid kit, but after a while Tang could tell something else was wrong by the way the tree whispered to each other and the way Xiaotian refused to get off the bed. It was just the four of them all cramped into Xiaotian's apartment, tiny little folding table set to the side of him in front of the three sitting on the bed and Tang, who sat in the chair normally kept at the desk. He took note of the... odd way Xiaotian was sitting and the strange hat Xiaojiao wore. She never seemed the type to wear beanies before.

The relief on their faces was a welcome sight, as peppered with nervousness as it was. It didn't matter if he was off work or had to get up for work in 5 hours, he would spend all night listening to them if it would make them feel better. If anyone were to question if he was tired or didn't show up he wouldn't have any hesitation to tell them it was a "family emergency" because to him? That was close enough to the truth anyway. His kids needed to talk and that took priority.

But he told them the truth to make them, hopefully, feel less pressured to rush or not tell him the entire truth.

"So... uh..." Xiaotian started, looking over at the two sitting to either side of him. "You see... uh... you know a lot about Sun Wukong." He paused.

"Yes," Tang said slowly at the odd statement. "I do."

"And you know a lot about demons and Heaven and all that stuff."

Tang didn't like where this line of statements was going. "Yes, I do. Why?"

"So we uh..." Xiaojiao chipped in. "We wanted to talk to Sun Wukong about this but he's off doing something and we didn't want to keep hiding it until he gets back and I really don't want to show my parents first because I think they'll freak out."

Red Son cleared his throat, looking at his two companions pointedly. "Just show him already before I go hunt down Wukong from wherever he ran off to myself."

OK, now that was weird. But nothing in comparison to Xiaojiao removing the beanie covering her head to reveal the tiny little dragon horns starting to peak out of her hair or Xiaotian moving to free the monkey tail he had hidden under his leg.

"Oooookay," Tang said after he good a second to stop the yelp of surprise that almost escaped him at the sight. Had they just shown him what was happening from nowehere he would have likely allowed his excitement to get the better of him, but he recognized just how much this was worrying the entire trio (Red's worry was more quiet but still clearly showcased by his sparking hair and the fact the tea in his cup was boiling). "OK, this is definitely related to your powers. You, uh, yeah talking to Wukong should be the first thing you do when he gets back. But whatever you need I'll do my best to be there for you." He trailed off, thinking of what he could possibly do at that moment before he realized something. "Is this why you both have acting off the last week?"

"Yeah," Xiaotian answered, jumping in surprise as his tail swiped against his wrist. "We've been trying to hide them until we've figured out how to really... process all this."

Xiaojiao gently poked her horns and winced. "I've had a headache since they started growing about a week ago. But I can handle it!" She added the last bit quickly. "Just knowing someone else knows makes me feel better. But could you maybe be there when I tell my parents?"

"Of course I can," Tang answered easily, watching with a smile as she relaxed. "Look, you're all adults and I know you can handle yourselves, but you all know I think of you as my kids. You can ask me for help with anything, it doesn't matter what it is. All of you." He looked at Red Son glancing down at the no longer boiling and now piping hot cup of tea.

"I know Mr. Tang," Red said with a much more calm expression now that the other two had relaxed at Tang's words.

"This means a lot to us... dad," Xiaotian said with a small smile.

"Thanks Tangy," Xiaojiao chipped in, normal chipper demeanor back in full force, chugging the rest of her tea in one gulp.

"I'm glad!" Tang smiled, taking the empty cup when held out to him. "But please, don't hide these anymore ok? I cannot imagine how uncomfortable it has been to hide those under clothes with how new they are. Red Son, since you have your full bull form I assume you've been helping them?"

"Of course."

"Good! Good. One last thing. "He lowered his voice, looking down slightly with a glint in his glasses. "If anyone says anything about them I will fight them myself. And they will lose."

"Mr. Tang, sometimes you are terrifying," Red Son said as Xiaojiao and Xiaotian froze in a mix of shock and amusement. "But damn you're cool when you are."

#i can imagine the first time they noticed this they had no idea what to do #tang #dad tang #red son #mei #dragon form mei #long xiaojiao #mk #qi xiaotian #transformed mk #monkie kid #lego monkie kid #prompt fill

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poedameronloverx · 3 years

Text

Who’s Looking After You?

Life in Lockdown - Masterlist

Poe Dameron x F Solo Reader

Hey everyone! Hope you’ve all had a lovely week. Here is the next part of my series.

Big mentions of covid again this week so if that’s going to upset you then I full understand if you want to give this a miss. Also mentions of anxiety.

But we also have more of reader bonding with BeeBee and a nice wee heart to heart between her and Poe. And then there’s Finn asking the questions we all want the answer to!

Month 3 – May 2020

Rose's illness came and went without too much drama. Her symptoms suggested COVID but she hadn't been as ill with it as a lot of other people had. Poe had a few symptoms too, they started off pretty mild. He decided to stay in the house just incase so you had taken over BeeBee's walks. The little dog was confused at first, wondering why his best friend wasn't walking him but he soon got used to it and was happy to be out with you. You and Rose were taking turns to look after Poe. Finn was still keeping out of the way due to his work, so the two of you were working around one another and your work schedules to check on how Poe was feeling. After a few days he started to feel worse, his throat was sore and he had no energy. You made him soup and checked in to make sure he was looking after himself.

“Sweetheart, you're going to get sick” he protested as you moved his pillows around to help him get comfortable.

“I'm not worried about me, I'm worried about you!” you replied “And I'm going to continue to worry about you and take care of you until you're back to your normal self!”

You fussed around him some more, making sure he had everything he needed before you had to head back to your desk for a zoom meeting.

“So, when are we going to talk about it?” Finn asked, a few nights later as you sat down to dinner with him and Rose.

“Talk about what?” you asked

“This sexual tension between you and Poe”

“Excuse me?”

“Oh come on! You can't pretend, it's so obvious that you like him and it's obvious that he likes you so once he's better you should do something about it!”

“Wait, did he say something?” Rose asked “Because you didn't tell me he liked her back!”

“Hold on!” you butted in “You told Finn?”

“I'm sorry! I know I should've kept my mouth shut but it's Finn and he promised me he wouldn't tell Poe!”

“And I didn't!” Finn replied “But I just think you two deserve to be happy and being together would obviously make both of you happy!”

“You guys need to stop getting involved. Poe doesn't like me in that way and that's totally fine. He's my friend and I don't want to lose that if you guys make this awkward so please stop!”

“We won't make it awkward” Rose replied “We won't say another thing”

You couldn't sleep that night, everything Finn had said was going round on loop in your head. BeeBee slept soundly at the foot of the bed, he'd taken to sleeping in your room most nights. You climbed out of bed and looked out the window. The rain was falling onto the peaceful street. It had been raining for a few hours and puddles had already formed everywhere. You decided to head downstairs to get a glass of water, the lack of sleep was beginning to annoy you. When you walked into the living room, you were startled to see a figure sat on the couch.

“Poe? What are you doing up?”

“Couldn't sleep” he replied “I'm feeling a lot better so I figured there was no harm in having a little wander round the house since everyone was in bed!”

“As long as you’re alright” you replied

“I am, wanna sit with me for a while? You’ve been taking care of me so you’ve probably passed any risk of catching this”

“Yeah, may as well since I’m wide awake”

You could feel him staring at you, he hadn't put the lights on in the living room. Only the small lamp in the dining room was giving any light.

“Tell me honestly, are you doing okay? You had all the stress with your dad being ill, then you looked after Rose and now you’re looking after me. Who’s looking after you sweetheart”

“Honestly Poe, I’m fine. Keeping busy keeps my mind off of not being able to see my family. I like looking after you guys. I enjoy walking Bee, I like making the soups you’ve taught me and when I’m not working I like cooking dinner for us all”

“You’re too good to us. Even just letting Finn and I move in and completely throw your life into even more chaos by taking over your home”

You glanced at him and smiled.

“I like having you here” you replied “It’s good to have a group to hang out with. Rose and I would bicker about stupid stuff when we just spent weekends together. We would’ve been a nightmare alone for all these weeks. I like being able to spend time with her but then have the option to walk away from her and hang out with you. I’m not going to lie and say these past few weeks have been easy and amazing because they haven’t, they’ve sucked. Not knowing if my dad was going to be alright or not whilst not being able to see my mum was torture. Then Rose getting ill and now you, I feel like I’ve constantly been worried and my anxiety has been terrible but I really am alright”

“Can we make a deal then?” Poe asked

“What kind of deal?”

“Well I’m worried about you and how much you’ve taken on, so how about once a week you have an evening to yourself? Run a bath, or just have a lie down. Whatever you want. It would just make me feel better to know that you were taking a break!”

“Alright, deal” you replied “Now tell me what else is on that mind of yours?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well Poe Dameron, I can basically see the cogs turning under that beautiful hair of yours. So tell me what's on your mind”

He sighed “My work is struggling. The pandemic has hit us hard and they don't know if we'll be able to keep going. I might lose my job”

“Oh Poe, I'm so sorry. Is that why they stopped you guys working from home?”

“Yeah, there wasn't enough work for us so they told us not to bother. We're still going to get paid for now but I really don't know how long that's going to last for”

“I'm sure something else will come up” you replied “And if not, you know we're all here for you. You'll never find yourself out on the street”

“Thank you sweetheart, that really means the world to me!”

A few days later, you were getting ready to take BeeBee his walk. You’d been working that morning, once you’d finished you had time to make a pot of soup for lunch, re-organise the living room and dust every surface in the room. BeeBee was very set in his ways and always knew when it was walk time. He wouldn’t let anyone forget it either, his usual tactic was slowly wandering over to where you were and nudging your ankle with his nose. You were just putting your coat on when Poe walked into the room.

“I’m feeling much better and I’m going stir crazy in this house. Fancy some company?”

“I dunno, what do you think BeeBee, should we let your dad tag along? He might cramp our style!”

The Corgi wagged his tail with excitement when he saw his best friend was ready to take him out for the first time in over a week. BeeBee had always enjoyed the attention you gave him whenever you went to see Poe and Finn, or if they’d brought him over, but living together had meant you and the little dog had bonded a lot more, especially when you had to walk him. He was spending a lot of time with you rather than Poe.

“I think he’s alright with it” you chuckled

“I think he’s replacing me” Poe pouted “You’re now his favourite person in the world”

“I mean, can you blame him? I’m awesome!”

“That’s true! But don’t let your head get too big or you won’t fit out the front door!”

Rose wandered into the room, she smiled when she saw Poe putting his coat on.

“You’re feeling better! That’s great”

“Much better. And I absolutely cannot wait to go outside”

“Enjoy the fresh air! But remember if it’s too much, you need to rest”

“I will Rose, thanks. I’m sure Y/N will take care of me and make sure I’m not over doing it”

“Damn right I will”

The walk was nice, you took it at a slow pace so Poe wouldn’t get tired too quickly. BeeBee seemed to have an extra spring in his step now that his dad was back walking him. You did a lap round the park before Poe said he was tired. You found a bench and let him sit down whilst you threw a ball for BeeBee. When the dog got bored of the game you sat down next to Poe.

“You doing okay?”

“I’m fine sweetheart, thanks”

“Do you fancy a coffee or anything?”

“Nah, just your company is enough for me”

You ducked your head, hoping he wouldn’t see your embarassment. You smiled as BeeBee ran around chasing after a bird that just wanted to sit on the grass. May had been an extremely difficult month with Rose and Poe both being ill, Poe’s job being at risk and not being able to go and help your mum look after your dad. 6 weeks of being in lockdown had been hard, your anxiety was flaring worse than ever and some days felt more of a struggle than others. You were glad to be with your friends and BeeBee. Facetime had been a lifeline to keep in touch with your parents, your brother and sister in law and your two nephews. You just hoped it wouldn’t be too long until you could see them in person.

So thats us for this week. I hope if you read it you enjoy it and as always your comments and suggestions would mean the world to me. I’m kinda lagging behind with where I wanted to be with this series in terms of how many chapters ahead I had written so if you guys have any suggestions of things you’d like me to write in this then please do let me know <3

#poe dameron x reader #Poe Dameron x Solo!Reader #Poe Dameron x F!Reader #tw: covid19 #tw: covid #tw: anxiety

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acabecca · 3 years

Note

“Say that you wanna be with me too.” JAS AND BUCKY

I have no idea what this is I’m sorry. I wanted to make it longer and set it during THAT episode of fatws but it didn’t make sense to me to do it, even as an au because apparently I am very fussy when it comes to Jas and Bucky 🙄

(also the picture is not what happens in the prompt i just like is lol)

(featuring a surprise cameo by mr steven rogers because my mind cant process that he might possibly be and is most probably the D word) this prompt is unnecessarily long i apologise

Pushing her sunglasses up on top of her head, Jas kept hold of the brightly wrapped present and nudged the car door closed with her hip. She heard more than saw the kids playing somewhere over beside the cabin, and she made her way over to place the box in her hands on the table that was already crammed full of gifts.

Pepper had clearly gone all out and so had everyone else, trying to overcompensate for Tony not being around. It was Morgan’s first birthday without him, and Pepper had opted to invite everyone around instead of the two of them spending it alone, trying to distract her daughter with gifts and friends and games so she didn’t dwell too much on the fact that her father would never be at another one of her birthday parties.

“It’s about time you got here.”

“Yeah, sorry, I’m terrible at gift wrapping so I stopped by my aunt’s place so she could make it look pretty for me,” Jas patted the top of the gift and sent Sam a grateful smile as she took the bottle of water he handed to her.

“Uh-huh,” he hummed, peering at the gift tag. “What’d we get her?”

Jas blinked. “We?”

“Me, you, and Bucky.”

“I’m sorry, was this supposed to be from all of us?” Jas’ brow furrowed in confusion. “Because I’m pretty sure I’m the one who hauled my ass all over New York looking for the perfect present for baby Stark, and I don’t recall you or Bucky giving me any money for it.”

Sam groaned loudly. “Come on, Jas. I’ve been busy. I’ve been on a mission.”

“Yes, I know,” Jas nodded her head. “I was with you. I still made time to go shopping for a six year old’s birthday party. You’re terrible! Bucky didn’t get her anything, either?”

“It’s Bucky,” Sam shrugged his shoulders as though that was enough of an explanation and Jas rolled her eyes, lifting her hand to wave at Pepper, who wiggled her fingers in return before rushing back inside the cabin.

“Jasmine!”

Jas turned at the sound of her voice, grinning when she saw Morgan running towards her and crouching down just in time to catch the little girl as she flung herself forwards. “Hey birthday girl! Are you having a good day? Your mom’s done a lot, huh?”

“There are so many cupcakes,” Morgan’s eyes went wide. “Too many to even count! I tried. Did you bring me a present?” she asked curiously.

“I did!” Jas laughed, turning around just in time to see Sam inconspicuously adding his own name to the bottom of the gift tag. “It’s from Sam, too, and Bucky. But you’re not allowed to open it until your mom says so, okay? I think we’re doing gifts later.”

“I know,” Morgan sighed. “She let me open one, though! Well…” she paused thoughtfully. “Clint snuck it to me and told me to open it before anyone saw. He got me a bow and arrow set and Lila is going to teach me how to use it, and Bruce got me a chemistry set so I can learn how to help him in his lab and stuff like my daddy did, and- did you know Bucky can pick me and Nate up with only one arm?”

“He can, huh?” Jas raised her eyebrows. “That’s awesome! Sounds like you’re having a great day, kiddo.”

“Yeah,” she paused again, biting down on her lip. “I’m going to go back to play with Nate, now. Bye Jasmine, bye Sam! Thank you for coming!” she called, sending a wave over her shoulder as she took off running towards the other kids.

“Good thing she got her manners from her mom,” Sam snorted.

“Hmm,” Jas hummed, a soft smile on her face. “Don’t think I didn’t see you adding your name on the gift tag. You add Bucky’s, too? You better had or he’ll feel like shit for not getting her anything. Where is he, by the way?”

“Sitting down by the kids with Steve.”

Jas almost choked on the sip of water she’d just taken and Sam slapped her hard on the back. “Steve?” she squealed, coughing and wiping at her mouth. “Steve, Steve? Steve Rogers, Steve?”

“You know another Steve who’d be here?” Sam asked with raised eyebrows.

“Steve is here and you give me a poxy bottle of water? Dammit, Sam! I need something stronger,” she groaned softly, screwing the lid back on to her water and, spotting the cooler sitting on the grass by the corner of the cabin, she made her way over to it and reached for a beer at the exact same time someone else did. Looking up as her hand connected with someone else’s, she mer a pair of familiar blue eyes and couldn’t stop herself from grinning. “Hey, Buck! I hear you’ve been keeping Morgan and Nate entertained with your impressive strength,” she raised an eyebrow, unscrewing the cap off her beer and taking a long sip. “Have you been here long?” she asked, but Bucky didn’t reply.

Instead, he grabbed two bottles out of the cooler and straightened up, looking between Jas and Sam before sending her a tight smile and turning to walk back in the direction he’d come from, disappearing around the side of the cabin. Jas turned to Sam in bewilderment.

“What was that about?” she asked, but Sam avoided her gaze as he lifted his bottle to his lips. “Sam? He’s been ignoring me for days. What’s wrong with him, did I do something? I know you know something.”

Sighing, Sam ran a hand over his face. “Look, I don’t wanna get involved in whatever it is the two of you have got going on-”

“What?” Jas interrupted. “There’s nothing going on. What are you talking about?”

“Awfully quick on the defence there, James,” Sam smirked. “...I told him I wouldn’t say anything, and I’m not going to, but do you really not know what you did?” he asked, rolling his eyes when Jas shook her head. “Think back a bit. Day before we flew home, you were talking to your auntie. About Steve. About how they could never really replace Captain America, because he was irreplaceable.”

“Yeah…?” Jas trailer off in confusion. “But, I’m right. They can’t? They tried, and look how well it worked out. They’ll never find anyone like Steve.”

“They’ll never find anyone like Steve, or you’ll never find anyone like Steve?” Sam questioned, smirking when Jas’ face paled slightly.

“That- that’s what he- is that what Bucky thinks I meant?”

“Uh-huh.”

“That is not what I meant.”

“I know.”

“And- did you tell Bucky that isn’t what I meant?”

“I tried,” Sam shrugged. “S’not me he needs to hear it from. I’m not the one he’s got a thing for.”

“Shut up, he does not have a thing for me,” Jas grumbled, shoving at Sam’s face and feeling her cheeks heat up as he cackled beside her. “Sam!”

“What? You’re both too good at avoiding what’s been happening between you for months now and I, for one, am sick of it,” Sam pointed at himself. “I’m the one who has to sit in planes and in cramped apartments and shit with the pair of you and honestly? I’m done. I’m tired of it. We’re at a kids birthday party and the sexual tension between the pair of you is so unhealthy-”

“Sam!” Jas repeated, shoving at him again. “We don’t- that is not- there is none of that tension between us.”

Sam scoffed. “Don’t act like you don’t want Barnes to bend you over and-”

“SAM!” Jas shrieked, darting forwards and covering his mouth with her hand, her whole face turning red when she saw the looks Clint, Pepper, and Laura were throwing her. “Jesus, I- okay. Alright. So what if I do? He’s never made a move, has he? So this whole thing is probably just all in your head.”

“If you’re waiting for him to make the first move then you’re gonna be waiting a hell of a long time, baby. He thinks you’re still hung up on Cap and he’s also a 106 year old emotionally constipated ex-assassin. You’re gonna have to be the one who moves in first, or it’s never gonna happen,” Sam told her gently, reaching forwards and taking her drink out of her hand. “You can start by telling him he got it wrong when you said Steve was irreplaceable. Maybe drop in a little ‘Sam was right and you should listen to him more’, maybe make my life a little easier in future.”

Jas paused, chewing on her bottom lip as nerves filled her stomach. This was not how she had envisioned today going. She’d been expecting a lot of laughs, maybe some tears because she hadn’t been out here since Tony’s funeral, good food and lots of drinks, and now she was seriously contemplating dragging Bucky - her best friend - away from everyone so she could apologise for a misunderstanding that had left him brooding for the last five days. She moaned, pulling her sunglasses off her head and running a hand through her hair.

“I can’t just go talk to him,” she whispered. “He’s… He‘s with Steve. I haven’t seen Steve since… everything. It’s rude if I just go and drag Bucky away from an old man-”

“Either you drag him away or I do. I’ll come with you, I’ll keep Steve occupied and you go talk to Bucky. I am literally being your wingman.”

“Living up to your name.”

“Shut the hell up and get your annoying ass over to your equally annoying boyfriend,” Sam snorted, turning her round and pushing her towards where he knew Bucky and Steve were sitting together. Jas let out a squeak and reached behind her to swat his hands away, laughed as she turned the corner and saw Bucky sat beside Steve on a bench in the shade, watching Morgan run around with some of her friends.

Steve spotted her first and he sent a small, unsure wave. Jas smiled softly in reply and tucked her hair behind her ears, her sunglasses perched atop her head again as she came to a stop in front of them.

“Uhm, hi. Bucky, can I talk to you for a second?”

He looked up, squinting against the sunlight. “Sure.”

“Uh,” Jas glanced at Steve. “In private, maybe?”

Bucky shook his head. “I’m just in the middle of talking to Steve.”

“Oh, I don’t mind, Buck,” Steve looked between the two of them, a somewhat knowing look on his face. “You should go with Jas.”

“But-”

“I’ll sit with Gramps, don’t worry about it man,” Sam clapped Steve on the shoulder, not-so-subtly nudging Bucky out of his seat and forcing him to stand up. Huffing, Bucky placed his beer down on the grass and gestured towards the cabin. Jas nodded her head and followed after him, turning to shoot a glare in Sam’s direction when he called a quick “good luck!” after them.

Following Bucky inside, Jas glanced around the cabin, her eyes lingering on the picture above the fireplace, a selfie that Tony has clearly taken of himself, Pepper, and Morgan. Clearing her throat, Jas blinked rapidly as she tried to keep any tears from falling and ignored the way Bucky was watching her.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, you know, it’s just…” she waved a hand towards the picture and Bucky followed her gaze, frowning as he nodded his head.

“We don’t have to stay in here,” he told her. “We can- come on,” he pointed towards the kitchen and Jas trailed after him, coming to a stop by the breakfast bar as Bucky against the worktop opposite her, his arms crossed over his chest. “So uh, you wanna talk?”

“Yeah, I- listen, I didn’t- what I said, about Steve being irreplaceable?” Jas began meekly, and Bucky screwed his eyes shut as he muttered something that sounded suspiciously like ‘I’m gonna kill Wilson’ under his breath. “I think you took it the wrong way.”

“Jasmine, it’s- I- it doesn’t matter-”

“No it does!” she insisted quickly. “It does matter, Buck, because I didn’t mean it the way you think I mean it, and I don’t want you to think that I don’t- I didn’t mean that you’re not…” she paused, trailing off nervously. “You know you’re important to me, right? And I guess I don’t want you to think that there isn’t room in you for life because of my past with Steve, because that’s not what I meant.”

Bucky’s whole face was screwed up, his expression something Jas couldn’t decipher and she almost groaned when she realised he was obviously annoyed by something she had just said.

“You think I want to be a replacement?” Bucky asked carefully. “You think I want to take Steve’s place in your life?”

“No! I mean, I… I don’t know?” Jas replied meekly. “Maybe? I thought you were-”

“I want my own place in your life, Jasmine,” he cut in. “I don’t have any intention of being a replacement for anyone, especially not Steve. I know I could never replace him,” he gestured towards the kitchen window, where they could see Steve and Sam both sat outside of. The two men quickly looked away and Bucky rolled his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose at his friends making it painfully obvious they were listening in. “I see Steve never learned how to be subtle in his old age.”

“Nope,” Jas bit back a smirk and Bucky sighed, grabbing hold of her arm and leading her away from the window. “Look, I thought maybe we - you and I - I thought that maybe there was something happening? That there was something here between us. Am I wrong?” he asked cautiously. “Tell me if I’m wrong and I’ll stop. I can just be your friend, I don’t need or expect anything else from you, not even your friendship if that’s something you don’t want-”

“…Bucky-”

“I want to be with you, Jasmine,” he admitted, his voice low and his cheeks a little bit pink. “I do. I have for a really long time. And if you say that you wanna be with me too, then great! I can take you out on dates, we can get to know each other beyond friendship. But if you don’t? That’s okay, too. Whatever you decide. I just need to know where I stand,” Bucky kept his gaze on her, his heart thumping so loudly in his chest he was sure Jas would be able to hear it. When she didn’t say anything, his stomach sank and he frowned. “Okay, that’s fine, we can forget that I said anything and-”

“No, wait!” Jas gasped, reaching out and grabbing his arm as he began to turn away from her. She tugged him back towards her, standing on her toes and quickly pressing her lips to his. It was a quick kiss, over in a few seconds, and Bucky had barely had time to respond to it before Jas was dropped back down on her toes and clearing her throat awkwardly, her face red. “Sorry, I… I was processing. I’d really like to go on dates with you, Bucky.”

He grinned. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay,” he nodded. “Good. That’s… That‘s good. I’d like that.”

“Bucky.”

“Yeah?”

“You gonna kiss me or am I gonna be the one doing all the heavy lifting in this relationship?” Jas raised an eyebrow and Bucky chuckled, slipping an arm around her and pulling her towards him. He leaned in closer to her, before freezing and looking at her with a furrowed brow. “What is it, Barnes? Did you change your mind already?”

“You don’t still have feelings for Steve, do you?”

“No!” Jas pulled a face. “Bucky. He’s old. Like really old.”

“So am I!”

“Yeah but he looks old.”

“Wow, never had you down for the shallow type, Jasmine.”

She groaned. “Just shut up and kiss me.”

“Okay,” Bucky hummed, finally closing the gap between them and doing as she asked.

Outside, Sam beamed as he peered through the window before he held his hand out to Steve, who sighed and begrudgingly shoved $20 into his waiting palm.

“Don’t think I didn’t see you talking to her, Sam,” Steve grumbled. “You hustled an old man.”

“Yeah,” Sam smiled widely, stuffing the money into the pocket of his jeans. “I did.”

taglist: @sgtbuckyybarnes @mer-writes @foxesandmagic @ohmansebastianstan @chlobenet @jewelswrites-ish @lukespatterson @ocappreciationtag @marveloc-hq (let me know if you want to be added/removed)

#bucky barnes x oc #tfatws oc #?? kind of? it’s au tho #well this prompt is the fic isnt #ANYWAYS pls love my sweet angels as much as i do 🥺#my sweet angels + sam the meddler #jas x bucky #fic: band of thieves #band of thieves: prompts #also i haven’t edited this bye

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