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starneteyam · 1 year

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TOUCHY ★

🖇️ char. Neteyam x Omaticayan! fem! reader

🖇️ warn. Spicy, jealousy, fluff

🎥 In which Neteyam is an extremely affectionate boyfriend whose love language is physical intimacy, and when some Metkayinan boys start getting a bit too flirty with you, be gets jealous and sulks

A/N Just a short drabble

Neteyam was your mate, and you were his. Ever since he first hooked his eyes on you a year ago, he had been obsessed with you in every way. The way you looked at him with loving eyes, or the way you never complained whenever he held your hand while you did whatever you needed to do. You understood Neteyam loved being physically intact with you.

When he was sitting next to you, even that wouldn’t be enough. He would lay his head on your shoulder, or hold your hand, or wrap his arm around you. Around his family, he would play with your hair—the tiny unbraided strands of your goddess braids, or he would just hook a finger around yours.

He had separation anxiety, though you would never comment on it. You didn’t mind, one bit. You thought that part of him was adorable, like a little puppy.

Because you were his mate, it was decided that you would move to Awa’atlu with Jake and his family, leaving your family behind. You were heartbroken, having to leave your siblings and parents behind, but you said your goodbyes and left anyways.

When you arrived at the Pandora Reefs, Neteyam never let go of your hand, not once. But this time, it was to reassure you. When Au’nong and Rotxo stepped forward, he pulled you behind him, while they smirked.

At your new home, he huffed in displeasure. “They were looking at you.” He sulked, sitting next to you with his head on your collarbone, your body leaning against the wooden pillar, his pointer finger hooked to your pinkie.

You smiled reassuringly, shaking your head. “And I was looking at you, Neteyam.” You told him softly, playing with the bead on his braid. Your heart was full, your throat tightening at how adorable he was.

Another instance was when you were at the beach with Tuktirey, accompanying her and looking for seashells on the shallow waters. The two of you knelt on the sand, her laughing in joy. “Look, there’s one!” You laughed, pointing at a pink shell when you heard the water behind you splashing as if somebody was walking near you.

You turned around, seeing a stranger your age walking up to you with two of his friends. You furrowed your eyes. “Tuk, come here.” You whispered, ushering her.

She whimpered in fear as you grabbed her arm and pulled her behind you. You then stood up. “What’re you doing?” The boy asked, tilting his head. You gave him a dirty look. “Can I help you?” You asked, ignoring his question. His friend laughed. “We just want to get to know you, chill out.” He shrugged his shoulders, and you tried your hardest not to roll your eyes.

“I like your hair.” The third guy commented, running his fingers through some braids on your hair. “We should hangout sometime, I can show you some islands around here.” The first guy said, smiling. You huffed, frowning.

“Excuse me.” You mumbled, making sure to keep Tuk away from the guys as you walked past them, and away. “O-Okay! See you around!” The guy yelled after, and you shook your head in disbelief and sighed. Pathetic.

Unknown to you, Neteyam had seen it all. He had the urge to go in and just punch those guys square in the jaw, but after fighting the Au’nong and his friends yesterday, he was sure his father would skin him alive if he were to cause more trouble.

So instead, he stayed out of sight, and watched quietly as his nails dug into his palms. He was glad you quickly had left and even barely spoke to them, displaying your clear unliking to them, but still, he couldn’t help but feel jealous.

Later that day, when the sky was dark, you stood in your home, your back turned to the entrance as you were busy taking the leaves off of berries Kiri had picked. You heard Neteyam enter, turning your shoulder and glancing at him. “How was your day, Neteyam?” You asked, not having seen him all day. He stayed silent, which you ignored. If he didn’t want to talk, he didn’t have to talk. You respected that of him, because you had your moments too.

You heard him dropping his things on the floor, then walk up to you. Without saying a word, his hands slid around your waist, pressing himself against your back as he kissed your shoulder. You smiled, leaning your hair into him as you continued to pick at the berries. His butterfly kisses trailed up your shoulder, to your neck, and his kisses became longer. Your breath hitched as he started sucking softly on the skin on your neck, his thumb rubbing your stomach.

“Neteyam.” You whispered, turning your head slightly towards him, but he ignored you again. You were confused on why he was acting this way. His tongue pressed against the bruises on your neck, before he turned you around and kissed your lips. You immediately responded. “Netey- mm- What’s- Mmph!” You tried talking, but he kept cutting you off by kissing you, each kiss more aggressive than the last. “Shh.” He hushed quickly, before kissing you again.

You did as told, letting him pour his feelings out on you. Your fingers brushed his back, tracing his spine upwards, before lightly tugging on his hair. He pushed his lips against yours, trying to get as close as he could to you, his eyebrows furrowed. He felt goosebumps on his skin as your tail brushed up the inside of his leg. After leaving his final kiss on you, he hugged your waist, burying his face into the crook of your neck.

Surprised, you looked at him, before smiling softly and rubbing his back. “What happened, Neteyam?” You asked quietly, closing your eyes as you leaned your head against his. He was silent for a couple heartbeats, but then finally spoke. “I saw those guys trying to hit on you today.” He whispered, and it almost broke your heart—how cute he was. You laughed at his sulking sight, hugging him tighter. “Neteyam, you are too perfect for this world.” You told him, kissing his head.

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thewulf · 4 months

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Don't Cry || Dallas "Dally" Winston

Summary: Request - In that, you mentioned Dally and Two-Bit walking the reader home and I had a request idea I wanted to send you. Could you write a Dallas Winston x reader where reader is a little younger than him but he’s really protective of her??... Read Rest Here

A/N: Ahhh these Outsiders requests are so much fun! I'm writing them so quick. Fresh inspo is so much fun. Thank you for the request and hope you enjoy! @fluentmoviequoter

Pairing: Dallas "Dally" Winston x Female Reader

Word Count: 5.0k +

TW: knifes, knife cutting, blood, crying, yelling

You’d known Dallas Winston for a long time. Not your whole life but it felt like it. He was always a constant in your life. Your relationship was always a weird one with the Winston boy. You could joke all day long in the confines of the house but as soon as you left it he wanted nothing to do with you. Like he was embarrassed of you. Little did you know he was just trying to keep your squeaky-clean reputation intact. For you might’ve hung, lived with and been around greaser’s but you weren’t one really. You were a greaser by association. Dally always said you were far too kind, too pure for this lifestyle so he tried his hardest to keep you as far away as he could.

It wasn’t easy when you gave him those pleading looks outside the Curtis residence to just acknowledge your presence. He tried his best not to cave. Not even when all he wanted to do was laugh about something stupid Ponyboy or Sodapop did. But you couldn’t be seen with him out and about so casually. Then the Soc’s would start to target you. He didn’t know what he was quite capable of at the thought of somebody hurting you. As he got to know you and the Curtis after moving to Tulsa he swore he’d protect you day and night. He wouldn’t let a pretty little hair on your pretty little head get touched.

He'd decided early on when he met you, he was ten and you were eight, that he was going to get you tough. He was going to be hard on you, not too hard though. If you were going to grow up a greaser then you needed to know how to defend yourself. He spent the next eight years teaching you, training you, protecting you. He didn’t realize when it happened but slowly he stopped looking at you like a younger sister. Those protective feelings went far deeper than familial love. No, he actually loved you. He’d fallen in love with the one person he really shouldn’t have fallen for. Darry would skin him alive if he knew. Soda would beat him into oblivion. Pony would tell him how disappointed he was in some sort of poetic way that went over his head. He knew he just had to keep these growing feelings quiet. For your sake. You didn’t need to deal with him or his endless amounts of baggage. Even if he could see how attached you had grown to him too.

To say your relationship had grown confusing and chaotic over the years had been an understatement. Even Darry had picked up on some of the awkward tension that seemed to pop up out of nowhere when the two of you were left alone. Soda caught onto the longing gazes Dally would throw your way. He even caught you a few times doing the same to him. Pony wasn’t blind either. He was your very best friend and confidant. Whenever the conversation of Dallas Winston came up you shied away. Scared of letting something loose on accident. All the brothers knew there was something there they just didn’t know if and what would happen.

After your parents had died he’d been there for all of you but especially you. You’d taken it the hardest. Your mom was your favorite person and she just disappeared one day. You were lost and had to rely on teenage boys to guide you through it all. Your parents had nobody they could fall back on to take care of you. Thank goodness for Dally. He’d quite literally pulled you out of the depression you’d slipped into by just being there. Helping you. Asking for nothing in return. That’s when you fell in love. He’d shown you his true colors under the layers and layers to Dallas Winston. Under it all he was there for you and promised to never leave. And you knew he'd keep that promise, you just knew it.

Slowly the months ticked by and you’d gotten back to normal. Going out with friends and boys. Dallas watching you like a hawk whenever you went on dates with guys he knew were nothing compared to you. But he decided not to say a word and let you live your life. It was worth seeing the smile come back to life after seeing you so sad for too long. Seeing you happy was worth it all.

So, when Ponyboy asked you to accompany him on a Paul Newman special at the movie theatre you couldn’t refuse him. He was so excited about seeing the film you could hardly imagine saying no to him. You’d always enjoyed the movies too so it was hardly a tough sell on his part.

You couldn’t imagine a better way to spend a Saturday. Maybe if Dally was there to accompany you. But you couldn’t admit that. If you did then everything would change. Who knows what Darry would do to Dally. How Soda would treat him. This could get weird, and you hated weird. You’d rather keep it normal even if it meant having to keep him as a friend.

“Which one did you like better?” Pony asked once the two of you had left the theatre. He placed his hands in his pockets giving you a quizzical look. The two of you waked slowly along the cracking road that needed some serious repairs. Your head spun towards the street seeing a car full of Soc’s roll up chipping at Ponyboy about something, ignoring you completely. Even though you were over a year older than him Pony stood much taller than you. He pushed you behind his back as he yelled back at the boys. You tugged at the back of his shirt letting him know it was time to go. It wasn’t smart to get chippy with five of them in the car. They outnumbered the two of you and you were rather useless in a fight.

He grabbed your hand and pulled you across the street. After a moment of walking along the residential road you answered him, “The Hustler was far better Gidget Goes to Rome. Paul Newman really is a mastermind.”

He smirked bobbing his head in agreement, “Thought you’d say that.”

You feigned offense at that statement, “Am I that predictable Ponyboy Curtis?” You raised your eyebrows as you walked along the dirt path. The theatre wasn’t far from home thankfully. Maybe just over a mile. A twenty-minute walk or so.

“No. I just know you I guess dear sister.”

You smiled at your younger brother. Even since your parents had passed you’d taken on the nurturing role for him and even Soda more recently. Darry had none of it though. You’d grown close to your two brothers since their death’s. Darry kept his distance trying to do his best to raise you instead of letting you help him. He was trying to take on the role of your father without even asking if that’s the three of you wanted. But you didn’t dare question him.

You gave his hand a soft squeeze, “That you do Ponyboy. You know me better than anybody else.” You spotted a vehicle fast approaching from behind the two of you as you went in for a hug.

Your eyes widened seeing the same Mustang before barreling towards you, “We gotta run.” You grabbed his arm and started sprinting down the road. Pony was faster, so much faster than you, so he tried to drag you along only ending up tripping you in the process. They caught up in their Mustang an instant. He stood in front of you as you scrambled to your feet.

You gulped as the five boys got out of the car walking towards you, “Get out of here.” Pony tried to sound tough, but you heard the waver in your younger brothers voice.

One of them flipped a blade open. Your eyes shot wide open as you grabbed his shirt trying to tug him away. But they were faster as one of them tugged on your arm pulling you to the ground in front of Pony. You let out a scream trying to draw the greasers attention a few houses down. Hopefully they were hanging out outside like they usually were. Drinking beers or some shit.

“Darry! Soda!” You yelled as Pony as was taken down to the ground with you. He tried to let out a few calls for help but was muffled by something being shoved in his mouth.

“Shut her up.” One of them said, Randy maybe? You’d recognized him as the one with the redhead from school.

And before you knew it that same blade was placed right to your throat, “Pretty little things got a mouth on her huh? Maybe this’ll quite you down.” The overly-cologne scented Soc smirked as he pressed the blade across your throat drawing yet another yell right from you. He cut you. He really cut you.

Before you knew it they were running away. Your brothers and friends had heard you and Ponyboy yelling and came running right to your defense. It was only a little over a minute you were down on the ground, but that minute made you tremble. You’d never been so dominated like that in your life.

You looked down shocked at everything that had just happened. You’d felt the blood trickling down your neck more so than throbbing of the slice the Soc had given to you. Darry pulled you up from the ground, so you were sitting at eye level with his crouched form. After a moment of him holding the handkerchief up to your neck he finally spoke, “They didn’t hurt you too bad, did they?” His voice was low. He was pissed. You knew you were in trouble later on once everything had settled.

You shook your head afraid to look at your older brother, “No, I’m fine.” You whispered afraid of what he might say next.

Ponyboy made his way over to you, crouching down next to Darry, “I’m so sorry, Y/N. I didn’t…”

You stopped him, “It’s fine Pony. I’m okay really. Just a cut.” A small smile wavered over your face trying your best to reassure him.

Darry scoffed hating how you were playing this off so casually. Like his kid sister hadn’t gotten a knife pulled on her. Like you hadn’t gotten cut by that very same knife. It was every nightmare he had coming to light right in his backyard. At least the two of you had gotten that far before being attacked.

“Hey, Y/N.” Soda spoke after running up. His face dropped seeing the blood running down your neck, “Did they pull a blade on you?” He put his hands on your shoulders so he could get a better look.

Your face flushed with embarrassment seeing all of your brothers eyes right on you. Turning away you couldn’t take Soda’s intense gaze, “Yeah.”

He pulled your head back towards him, “Hey kid, they ain’t gonna hurt you no more. Come on.” Grabbing your hand, he hoisted you to your feet with ease. Darry gave you one last quick look before he grabbed Pony by the arm. You gulped knowing Darry was going to have it in for him. You needed to talk to your older brother about being so hard on Pony. It was just an accident after all. It wasn’t your fault the Paul Newman films kept the two of you in deep conversation not seeing the Mustang until it was too late.

Dally only interrupted you and Soda once Darry had pulled Pony ahead. He needed to make sure that his favorite Curtis sibling was okay. A minor wave of panic rang through his body seeing you pushed to the ground next to Pony with those boys had their filthy Soc hands on you. Rage washed over him as he kicked the side of the fancy car when they fled away from the scene.

Dallas’s eyes scanned over you with concern only stopping when he saw the trail of blood rolling down your neck, “What the hell is that? Did they cut you?” He took a step closer, grabbing at your face with a delicate touch. Almost as if he was afraid he’d hurt you further if he grasped on too tightly.

“Jesus, Curtis. What’d I tell you about defending yourself?” He gave your cheek a soft squeeze before dropping his hand. He spotted the already bloodied Handkerchief turned rag in Soda’s hand and held out his own to ask for it from your brother.

You looked down, “It was five on two Dally. What were we supposed to do?” You asked back earnestly wondering what the hell you were actually supposed to do. Run? Pony was faster and you’d only slow him down so that wasn’t an option. You’d already tripped trying to keep up with him. Try and fight? Well, you got a blade pulled on you so that wasn’t great either.

He bit his mouth trying his best not to snap at you. His adrenaline was high, and he was scared at the thought of you actually getting hurt, “I don’t know Y/N. Fight back? You were just lying there!”

You stopped walking abruptly, brushing Soda away knowing he didn’t need to hear the conversation about to go on between you and the hot-headed man beside you, “Can you go make sure Pony’s okay?” You asked him.

Soda gave you a curious look before finally handing Dally the handkerchief, “You sure?”

“Yeah, go ahead.” You gave him a quick push before turning back to Dally, “What is wrong with you?”

He stepped closer so your brothers couldn’t hear ahead of you, “What the hell is wrong with me? I’m just trying to keep you alive Curtis. I should be asking you the same! Why are you out walking alone with Pony this late on a Saturday anyway? You two know better. Those no good for nothing assholes only want to fight.” He grumbled before dabbing at the semi-dried blood on your chin.

You let out a huff of irritation. He was being so caring yet so damn frustrating, “What? I can’t go anywhere without a damn chaperone now? I’m confined to my brothers house? Is that how it’s going to be Dally? Pony isn’t enough now?” Your voice was snappy as you pushed and pushed and pushed him. He was already feeling on edge from the whole thing and your attitude was about to be his breaking point. There was nobody on this planet that could get under his skin like you could, nobody except for you. You’d found a way to weasel your way into his ice-cold heart and sink a burning ember into it. For Dallas Winston would do anything for you. But man, did you frustrate him to no end.

“Jesus, you know that’s not what I mean! Stop putting words into my mouth Curtis.” He put his hands up in the air in frustration, raising his voice just a tad. Darry turned back observing, making sure you were fine. He knew Dally would never hurt you. He could see the way the Winston boy looked at his younger sister. He wasn’t stupid. Dally had always been soft on you. Except he wasn’t. He pushed you harder than he pushed anyone. He wanted you to know how to defend yourself. With your hands, a knife, a pipe whatever. He was going to teach and push because he needed you alive. You were the only thing grounding him to this planet at the moment.

Your eyes narrowed on his, your voice raising as well, “Then what do you mean Dallas? Go ahead. Say exactly what you mean. I can take it.” You’d only used his full name when you felt like being patronizing.

He looked like he was contemplating everything before he turned back to you, “You need to be more careful!” He snapped. He didn’t raise a hand on you but instead yelled right at you stopping you in your tracks. Dally had never yelled at you before. Scolded sure. Disappointed yes. Angry, of course. But yelled? Never.

Your brothers must’ve seen the look in your eyes as they all stepped in. Darry pulled Dally away telling him to cool off. Soda grabbed your arm pulling you back towards the house. And Pony happily chatted away trying to take your mind off it.

“Dally’s just an asshole, you know that!” Pony’s final ditch effort to get you to smile came up miserably short.

You gave him a solemn nod, “Yeah, I know. Never to me though.” The sadness in your voice must’ve been evident because that had him quiet down the remainder of the short walk home. You brushed them all away telling them that you were ‘fine’ and going to take a nap.

They left you alone for a few hours but when you didn’t come out for dinner all three brothers grew worried. Soda knocked on your door lightly, “Hey kid. Supper’s getting cold. Darry made one of your favorites, spaghetti, and meatballs.”

It was sweet how much they cared on you when you were down, but damn was it suffocating sometimes. It was times like these when you wish you could run to your mom and ask her advice on it all. Boys were… boys and they often didn’t have a clue what ran through your head.

“I’m not hungry Soda. Maybe later, I’m working on homework.” You heard him sigh before walking away. You’d thought you would have gotten rid of them but another, much louder knock broke you away from the essay you were committed to finishing.

“Pony said you both skipped lunch to go to the movies. Come on down and get some dinner kiddo.” Darry’s much deeper voice spoke through the door. He tried twisting the knob but stopped when it wouldn’t budge. As much as he wanted to knock your door in he knew better. You weren’t like his brothers. No, you were so entirely different. He couldn’t treat you the same or you’d most likely find yourself a foster home instead.

“I had popcorn. I’m still full from that.” It wasn’t a lie. You weren’t hungry. You were uneasy and nervous. And wanted to finish the damn easy that you’d been staring at for the better part of three hours now.

“Alight kid, I’ll save you a plate.” He grumbled before beginning to walk away.

“Thanks Dar.” You hummed ignoring the lump forming at the back of your throat. You were so lucky to have your brothers who cared for you so deeply. You just wished they’d give you the space you needed.

And you thought they did before, yet another knock came to your bedroom door not thirty minutes later. With a huff you set the pencil down, “Go away Pony. I’m not in the mood.”

A laugh so distinct came from the other side of the door. That was certainly not Ponyboy, “Try again, sweetheart.” Dallas. Dallas freaking Winston. What had your brothers done?

Your palms began to sweat as your heartrate sped up rapidly, “What are you doing here?” It came out colder than you meant but Dally just found it amusing. He knew you couldn’t hurt a fly much less hurt him words. Albeit you might be the only person that could actually hurt him with words if you wanted to. Dally was soft for one person. You.

“I’m here for you.”

You sighed, “Go away. I’m not hungry. I don’t know who went and got you or called you or whatever. I’m not in the mood Dally.”

He put his head on your door knowing your mood was stemming from the argument earlier. He had snapped at you, and he felt bad. Especially after Darry of all people came knocking at his door pleading with him to come back to his place and talk to you.

His voice was low but he knew you could hear it, “You and I both know I’m not going away little Curtis. So, you can open that door and we can talk about it, or I can sit here all night waiting. Those are the options.” You heard his stubborn ass slide down the door. You knew they could most likely pick the lock or break down the door. But Darry wasn’t stupid. He knew it’d cause more harm than any good. You needed your safe space away from all the madness of being a greaser. A place you could lock yourself away from.

“Please,” Your voice cracked as fresh tears flowed down without you even noticing, “Just go away.”

You heard him click his tongue, “No can-do sweetheart. I gave you the options. Your turn to pick.” His voice was smug. Was he relishing in making you squirm? Neither was really an option. Both forced your hand. But then again this was Dallas. He got what he wanted.

You tried to turn back to your essay all you could think about was Dallas freaking Winston sitting on the opposite side of your door. You knew his stubborn ass wouldn’t leave either and that drove you nuts. You’d never be able to finish the essay or go to bed knowing he was sitting there just waiting on you.

With a heavy sigh you got up, walked towards the door, opened it without so much as a second thought and found him sitting right next to your door, “Go away.” You tried in your meanest voice, but it came out as a whisper.

He shook his head as he stood to his feet, “That’s not going to happen sweetheart.” He leaned against your doorframe pushing you back inside your room.

“Why can’t you guys just leave me alone for one night? One stupid night. That’s all I’m asking for!” You’d hardly ever raised your voice, but you were tired. Exhausted. Scared of the Soc’s that pulled a freaking knife out on you. Frightened because when you needed a helping hand all you got was a scolding voice.

“We’re worried about you is all. You got attacked. A knife pulled out on you…” He lowered his voice hoping it’d help settle down the rage he saw in your eyes. It was weird. Different. He was used to such a sweetness about you. He’d never seen you angry. Upset sure. But this was something entirely different.

Your eyes bugged, “You think I don’t know that? That maybe I just need some alone time away from all of this?” You didn’t hate being a greaser, no. That would never be the case. You loved your life with your brothers. You were just so damn tired of always being alert these days. Being a girl put you in a weird position with the greasers. The Soc’s never laid hands on you until today. It was startling. You’d always heard how dangerous the life was but today laid it out in front of you how truly dangerous it could be if you were at the wrong place at the wrong time.

He put his hands up in defense, “You need to calm down, Y/N.” His eyes shifted from one of a confident gaze to one that filled with concern

You wanted to slap him across his pretty little face, “You saying that is definitely not going to calm me down!” You were beyond frustrated now. You didn’t want to talk about it. You wanted him to leave you alone.

His eyes downturned as he saw your frigid stance. You were, for the first time he had recalled in his life, angry. Like angry, angry. Like you looked like you wanted to rip his head off angry, “Hey, I’m sorry. But I need you to relax a little. Sit down for me?” You were struck by his apology. Dallas Winston saying he’s sorry? You thought you’d so sooner be struck by lightning than hear those words come out of his mouth. The rage in your body calmed at that.

With an icy glare you sat down on your bed. You weren’t sure why you were listening to him. You were angry with him. He yelled at you when you needed sympathy. He’d scared you when you were already terrified. You thought the world of him, but that world came crashing down oh so quickly. You knew of the Dally he had hidden so well from you. Pony, Soda, and Darry would tell you stories all the time of how menacing he was. How he was so fearless in the face of it all. How could you not love on the man?

“Are you okay, Y/N?” He asked after shutting your bedroom door behind him. He knew your brothers were listening in, but it at least gave the illusion of a private conversation. Not that it mattered. They’d get the damn conversation out of one of the two of you eventually anyway. There was no privacy with the greasers.

“I’m fine.” You snapped at him, clearly not fine.

He shook his head giving you that damn chuckle that meant he knew you were lying, “I’m going with you’re not. You wanna tell me what’s the matter?” He asked once more. Stubborn.

“I want you to go away. That’s what I want.” The word weren’t as harsh this time. More like a soft rumble.

He sighed, “Come on Curtis. It’s just me. I know you and I know you’re not okay or fine or whatever word you wanna use. You can talk to me. It’ll be okay.” He grabbed for your hand that was nervously clutching the edge of your mattress giving it a comforting squeeze when his fingers locked with yours.

You felt the words coming on before you could stop them and soon you were rambling, “I’m overwhelmed Dally! I’m scared. I’m nervous. I don’t know if I’ll feel comfortable walking down the damned street anymore! And none of you will leave me alone to think about it!” You fired back exasperated. The building rage inside your eyes quieted down at the admission. You were terrified of what happened next. Everybody was always on edge these days. Life went from easy to hard in what felt like a night after your parents had left.

He opened his arms up, “Alright, come on. Come here pretty girl.” It didn’t take him much effort to pull you right into his embrace. In another instance you’d probably have fought him, but you were terrified and exhausted and his warm embrace was everything you needed. He pulled you closer before resting his head on yours, “It’s okay to be scared.” He whispered knowing that your nosey as hell brothers were likely sticking their ears to your door.

You closed your eyes letting the scent of his cologne mixed with the long day wash over you. So much more refreshing than the scent that washed over you earlier. Dally was always your comfort. No matter how harsh a day or words that were spat you knew you could count on him. No matter how mean you were to him either, “You yelled at me.” You felt another wave of tears come on. God, you felt so pathetic in his arms crying about being yelled at. Some greaser you were.

“I know.” He sighed giving you another reassuring squeeze, “You scared me. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell at you. I just let out my frustration out on you. I shouldn’t have done that. I should’ve been there to protect you.” He sounded a bit angrier not that he was getting it off his chest.

You pulled your head back gaping at his with a confused expression, “Is Dallas Winston apologizing?”

He gave you that soft smirk that you’d come to love, “If you tell someone I did, I’ll deny it.” He brushed the stray tears away with his thumb, “I don’t like it when you cry.”

You laid your head back down on his chest, “Don’t make me cry then.” Quipping back, you knew that wasn’t entirely fair. He wasn’t the sole reason you were in tears. But he was the reason you were crying then.

He leaned down whispering in your ear, “I’m sorry. Don’t cry. Please don’t cry. I can’t promise I’ll be perfect. You know I’m a fuck up. But I’ll try. I’ll always try for you.” There was no chance your brothers could hear him for you hardly could. Or maybe that was the rough pounding in your ears. He wanted it to stay between the two of you. He knew Darry would flip if he tried to make a pass at his sister. So, he’d keep his distance from you, for now. But he couldn’t promise to restrain himself if you made advances on him, he’d fold in an instant if you did.

“I believe you.” You fisted his shirt in your hands, grasping onto him. This certainly wasn’t what friends did. But it felt right to cling onto him. To mold into his touch and his embrace. Dally felt so incredibly meant for you the thought of not being with him hurt you.

He held onto you for just a bit longer before pulling back, “It’ll be okay. We’ll figure it out. You’ve got me. Your brothers. All those friends. You’ll be just fine.”

You gave him a quick nod brushing the fogginess out of your eyes, “Thank you Dally.”

“Always. Now come on, let’s go eat before Darry force feeds you.” He stood, unwrapping himself from you, holding his hand out for you to take.

“Darry would, wouldn’t he?” You smiled taking his hand in yours happily.

He gave you that look, “Let’s not find out.” Before pulling you out the door. To nobody’s surprise were all three Curtis brothers not even subtly eavesdropping in on the conversation right outside your door.

“All of you. Unbelievable.” Your laugh let them know they’d called just the right person to brighten your spirits. Darry knew it was only a matter of time before you realized that he was your person. The thought terrified him. The older you got the closer the two of you grew. But time and time again Dallas had shown Darry just how much he loved you too. His actions and his words showed just how much he actually did care for you.

Permanent Taglist (Message me or comment below if you want to be added!) : @loving-and-dreaming @kmc1989 @memeorydotcom @matisse556 @buckylov3r @taygrls @ah-blossom @hardballoonlove @rosiahills22 @djs8891

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badwitch-if · 2 months

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OG DEMO + AU DEMO

**a note about the demo that won the vote**

Magic is all too real and witches reign supreme.

This is a story of excess & indulgence. Luxury & depravity. Lust & love. Horror & debauchery.

But mostly it's a story of rediscovering your inner witch.

Bad Witch is set in a matriarchal, gothic universe eerily similar to our own, where magic runs the world. And at its core, it is a love letter to the incredibly strong and vibrant friendships that we forge in our youth, and how they ultimately shape the people we become.

Witxhes dominate the upper echelons of society, and magic has seeped into every facet of day-to-day life, for witches and humans alike. Humans were relegated to a lower class of living and as witches tend to be quite opulent & over indulgent [and more often than not revelling in their own personal vices], the bougie Season of the Witch began. Witching Society flourished and quickly overtook over the world, trickling down to influence even those without magic.

SO WILL YOU BE A BAD WITCH, OR A GOOD WITCH?

You were born to one of the most ancient and thus, important witching families; the only child of a famous mother and an even more infamous grandmother. Your ancestors were among the very first witches to lead the revolution, desperate to create a world where their children would never again die by human hands.

Your childhood was rather lonely and spent under the tutelage of the worlds best witches and academics, whilst your mother did her best to ignore your existence whenever it didn’t directly benefit her. And so years later you would often joke that your life really began once you were accepted into Ariadne Academy, the premiere school for exceptionally gifted Witxhes.

You were placed in a coven with eight of your peers; girls and boys who would quickly become your family, until it was almost like you couldn’t remember a time before them. They shared your all-consuming hunger for magic and knowledge and experiences, traits that made your coven [nicknamed the Silverlakers] an unstoppable force within the Demonhall arena. Everything was going so perfectly until it suddenly burned down around you, leaving your coven a husk of its former self.

Aaand this is currently where the stories splinter off.

OG DEMO — In the OG demo, your coven is still somewhat intact. MC’s feelings towards them may or may not have changed, but on the whole, the Silverlakers are still functioning as the overachieving badasses they were at the academy. They’re still your best friends, your soulmates, your lovers. You love them and they most definitely love you — it’s just one big lovefest.

As a master alchemist you tediously work through trials of your newest potion while still coasting off the success of your last serum, the wildly popular Moon Juice. The story focuses on the unnaturally strong bond that exists between the remaining Silverlakers, and the powerful magic you’ve wrought because of that. The incredibly deep but complicated friendships that you built are maintained to this day, and still just as co-dependent... or have they been making you feel stifled or claustrophobic?

You can choose how your relationship with Ash progressed post-breakup. Was it messy and dramatic, or did you keep going back to them, again and again? Have you and Ori been just the bestest friends all this time, or have things gotten a bit awkward?

AU DEMO — In the AU demo, your coven was broken following the loss of one of your own. You all went your own ways and everything that you shared was left by the wayside. You’ve spent the better part of a decade running away from your Silver Lake family, the only real home you ever knew. But now, against all of your better judgements, your returning to York. Only for a few days, of course. A couple weeks, tops.

You haven’t returned since you absconded after graduation, when you used a somewhat controversial but entirely contrived excuse for your disappearance. And as if The Fates themselves had seen to it, you once again find yourself thrown together with the other witches formerly known as Silverlakers. Their reactions to your return are not at all what you had expected, and you’re left second-guessing what actually happened all those years ago.

No matter how deep of a rift was left between your coven, Ori was the one who really refused to give up on you. In their very unique way, they practically strong-armed you into maintaining some kind of contact. Of all your former covenmates, you are hands down closest to Ori. Your breakup with Ash, no matter how it was done, was shocking and cut deep. You can choose whether to stand by your past actions or try to make amends with your first love.

Both the OG & AU stories will feature opportunities to reconnect with: the former childhood friend turned academy rival; as well as the young professor from your university years. And despite their shorter and more mysterious descriptions, they are both main RO’s, along with Ash & Ori.

Will you try to repair the broken connections plaguing your coven, or forge a brand new path? Will you decide to confront the nightmares of your past face on in the Demonhall arena, or continue to ignore the literal demons that chase you?

TW/CW: violent & horrific imagery; explicit language; explicit sex scenes (with options to fade to black); misandry (within context of the story); mentions of blood/gore; child abuse (past tense against MC); very questionable magic usage; frequent scenes where NPCs are intoxicated, under the spell of drugs or magic, as well as just as many options for MC to imbibe; elder abuse; voluntary magical torture

~ Fully customisable character — you can currently play as a woman, man, or non-binary person; straight, gay, or bisexual. Customise your character's personality, style and how they reacted in major moments of their life leading up to present events,

~ Choose how to react to your current coven dynamics — fight to save your soulmates & strengthen your long-established bonds, or play around on greener pastures with other witches

~Experience the Witch's Journey through the Major Arcana – but will your MC make it to the final tarot reading?

~ Meet your familiar and decide which form it takes, with your familiar's animal impacting the story

~ Set up a cozy, witchy corner to call your own! A few options include a reclaimed lighthouse, luxurious penthouse in the sky, and a secluded cabin in the woods

~ Continue to cross sexual conquests off your list of Lovers to Bed, or get serious and pursue a more serious connection. There are currently 4.5 love interests [all gender variable] as well as an optional poly route. I'm also considering bringing back a character who was cut from the OG story... TBD!

~ Decide what happened to MC's relationship with Ash, in the years since graduation. Have they drifted apart while leading separate lives, or have they been on-and-off for the better part of a decade?

~ Get answers & closure by chasing down ghosts from your past. Give yourself over to the demons in your past, or fight to find a balance between your life and the monsters at the gate.

~ Explore the ever-changing hellscapes of Demonhall and confront your demons, or keep those traumatic memories in the past where they belong

~ But above all else, choose which path your character takes going forward. Chase your dreams and loves, or turn your back, light it up & watch the world burn around you.

During your time at Ariadne Academy, rumours swirled nonstop about your coven.

You got along too well.

You loved each other too hard.

Some people said you were a bunch of weirdos, while others whispered [a little too loudly] that all of your parents had conspired together, bribing the Witches Council to put you all together in one coven. But back then you couldn't give a shit about anyone or anything outside your Silver Lake home.

You found your first love within your coven, as well as seven other soulmates. And for a long time, that was all you needed.

☆ Elijah Akos {m}

☆ Suki Aoki {f}

♡ Aisling Casablanca {f} // Asher Casablanca {m}

♡ Oriana Helyr {f} // Orion Helyr {m}

☆ Belladonna Humphrey {f}

☆ Endora Stills {f}

☆ Hazel Trout {f} — Deceased

☆ Bren Wylder {nb}

The grandiose and horrifying Demonhall is a favourite pastime for Witches young and old. Two opposing covens enter the arena (or as it's lovingly called by fans, the Demon Dome) and are sealed inside. Usually a timer is set for 6 hours, but some exhibition games run a 'last Witch standing' simulator, that can go on for days.

At the core of every Demonhall arena lies it's true power, a demonstone. The crystalized heart of a demon powers and creates unique and dangerous environments for covens to progress through. Whether it's a futuristic, neon playground; the dilapidated ruins of Titans; or a much too lifelike version of the floor is lava, each unique setting has been randomly and lovingly crafted by the demonstone.

Just as each demon is unique and come with their specific set of baggage challenges, so do their corresponding arenas. Some are more manipulative in luring you into their traps, while others don't waste time in throwing everything they've got at you.

The object of the game, quite simply, is to challenge & toss opposing witches out of the match, using whatever spells & curses, or hexes & charms you keep in your arsenal. All while avoiding the real terror of the Demonhall, the demon itself.

For over a decade, your life revolved around Demonhall. You were the Lead for your coven, meaning you often bore the brunt of whatever the demonstone was hurtling at you. Your Silver Lake coven dominated the amateur Demonhall circuit for the better part of a decade. You and your covemates were elevated to a level of celebrity that few others at Ariadne Academy could relate to, as you were splashed across dozens of magazine covers before you were 18.

You planned your life around your obsession and love of the game, and as your graduation approached, you fielded dozens of offers to play for top-tier professional teams. But then... the unexpected happened during a match and you lost a member of your coven.

☆The First Love☆ ...& Ash's playlist

Aisling Casablanca {f} // Asher Casablanca {m}, 31

Ash was your first love. You dated for several years during your time at Ariadne Academy. You grew up together in your Silver Lake cottage and soon after you met, you found it hard to deny your teenage crush.

You bonded over a mutual (rather mad) obsession with Demonhall, and it didn't take long for that bond to translate onto the arena. The Silver Lake Demonhall coven dominated the competition, thanks in large part to the connection you shared with Ash.

You made plans together to follow your passions after graduation, and even courted the interest of several top-tier professional clubs. They wanted you both, and were willing to restructure their teams around you & Ash.

But life happened, and you surprised everyone when you suddenly broke things off with Ash and the Demonhall teams. Instead you followed a secondary love and traveled across the world in pursuit of cryptozoological mysteries.

In the decade that you've been working out in the field, Ash has been named Demonhall MVP for three years in a row. Their legions of adoring fans have only multiplied. Is there room for you in their life nowadays, or is it truly too late?

☆The Best Friend☆ ...& Ori's playlist

Oriana Helyr {f} // Orion Helyr {m}, 30

Ori has been your longest and closest friend. No matter what your relationship was like with the rest of the coven, you could always count on Ori having your back. And sometimes being a shoulder to cry on, during the rockier parts of your relationship with Ash. In a way, it's always felt like the three of you had your own kind of connection, but at times, that could put Ori in the middle of your shit with Ash.

Ori is a highly sought after Master Architect, one of only two in the country. They’re instrumental to the buildings integrity and the future success of it’s residences. Ori often spends weeks onsite, crafting intricate enchantments around the bones of the structure, ensuring not only structural safety but doing everything in their power to position them for prosperity.

There's never been any fronts or facades with Ori, just transparent (sometimes brutal) honesty. You've never had to pretend around them and you might even be your truest self when you're with them. And then the two of you would stay up all night, talking and watching movies, and polishing off copious amounts of alcohol. In fact, many of those nights ended up serving as inspiration for your new experimental potion, a cure-all hangover draught.

In the years since the academy, Ori has tracked you down across the globe too many times to count. It always seemed like they had some magical way of knowing when your life was going to shit and they'd spontaneously turn up with boxes of wine & chocolate, immediately taking over your kitchen to cook up something utterly delicious

☆The Lifelong Rival☆ ...& Poe's playlist

Viridian ‘Poe’ Black {f/m}, 31

Poe was one of your very first friends, long before the academy. Your mothers ran in the same high society circles and so you were often left to your own devices. For Poe that usually meant running off into the woods to scout for berries and beasts, or tirelessly watching or reading up on anything to do with Demonhall. And in fact decades later, you've still never met anyone as obsessed with the game as them. Even as a kid, Poe was haughty and overtly snobby; they always knew exactly what and who they liked, and rarely strayed outside the lines.

But for some reason or another, you were someone they happily tolerated and actually seemed to like. Much to their delight their Demonhall fanaticism eventually infected you as well, and you spent countless hours debating the various forms, methods, and positions of the beautiful but deadly game. The two of you would often daydream about your future life at Ariadne Academy, and their eyes lit up with unabashed glee when they spoke of how together, you would bring about a new era of Demonhall. But then came the week before coven placements. And even after all of their extensive testing, you & Poe weren't placed together.

After that Poe very rarely spoke to you and altogether stopped responding to your many messages over the years, and just like that, the delicate friendship you once shared was snuffed out. And while they'd always been sarcastic and biting, that had rarely been directed towards you. Until you were put in competition, both academically and in the Demonhall arena, and then you were introduced to an entirely different side of Poe. The one that knew your weaknesses and just when to exploit them, who seemed to take a particular happiness from your defeat.

☆The One That Got Away☆

Julia St. James {f} // Julian St. James {m}

Jules is the youngest of nine children and grew up in Bilbao, Spain. They were generally spoiled as a child, doted on by all of their siblings, aunts and uncles. They could never want for tutors or toys or courtiers, but it was all rather tiresome.

They would later travel the continent as a young apprentice of a new philosophy, but they were never alone; always in the company of their cousins, Vix and Maz. Jules developed a deep appreciation for the fine arts and very delicious things during this time away from home.

Jules has now perfected the balancing act, living in both worlds. They work tirelessly as a professor of Theological Witchcraft but lately they've been feeling the pull to leave the classroom and get back out into the world.

☆ ... ☆

#if #interactive fiction #hosted games #choicescript #interactive novel #witches #choice of games #magic #wip #if wip #badwitch #badwitch if #if: wip #if: fyi

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youwerenevermeanttofeelalone · 5 months

Text

Good Company | Bucky Barnes

✦ pairing — Bucky Barnes x female!Plus Size Reader

✦ word count — 2.8k

✦ request — For the Christmas fics thing can I ask for something with Bucky Barnes? The reader is completely tired of her grandmother telling her that she should lose weight to get a boyfriend/fiancé right in front of the whole family at every Christmas dinner. The reader is talking about it with two of her coworkers/friends until Bucky interrupts her and tells her he can go with her as her boyfriend

✦ warnings — light angst, mentions of fatphobia, mentions of food and beverages (alcohol included), fake dating, fluff, kissing.

✦ author's note — changed this one a little bit just so I could leave some stuff up for interpretation or else I would have gone overboard.

════════════════════════

You weren't feeling as festive as everybody in the building. Your work environment was good, you got along with your coworkers just fine for the most part, and the pay wasn't bad at all.

Your family, though... there was room for improvement there. A big room. Maybe an open plan apartment's worth of improvement.

It had come to the point that you weren't sure you wanted to see them for the holidays. Your grandmother always had something to say about you — your career, your friends, your weight, your relationship status.

She wanted you to be just like her and your aunts, to 'make sacrifices for a greater life' as she so eloquently put it. You were supposed to hate yourself, to change everything about you to please her.

Her excuse always boiled down to your loneliness in the romantic department. You couldn't tell her about hook-ups and fizzled-out flings so you would often nod along and take her absurd comments.

You wouldn't handle them that well this year. It was a tough one for everybody, but she would only use it as an excuse to urge you to find a partner before life got worse.

Reaching your car in the parking area, you made sure it was intact before unlocking it. You were checking the backseat when someone called your name.

You half-expected to be told you were needed for an emergency, but as you searched for whoever had called for your attention, you found Bucky.

"Oh, hi, Bucky."

He gave you a small smile, greeting you back. "Going home?"

"Yeah. I hope traffic isn't too bad."

"You free for dinner or coffee?"

"Right now?"

"Uh-huh."

"Sure. "

He led you to a small bistro, one of those hole-in-the-wall establishments he always seemed to find. Bucky gave you recommendations from time to time, and that was the extent of your dynamic outside of work.

You ordered drinks first and talked about silly things while you decided what to order for dinner. Once the order was placed and you had a few sips in you, Bucky turned more serious.

First, he cleared his throat. Seemingly not comfortable enough yet, he sighed. "I heard your conversation with Nat and Sharon..."

You hadn't even seen him at lunchtime and somehow he had managed to hear your rant about family expectations. Which meant he heard you at the edge of crying over your overly honest grandma.

You looked down at your half-empty glass. "It's... a lot, yeah."

"I'm available for the holidays." He pulled a napkin and started rolling it up into a log. "I can go with you, say I'm your boyfriend. Or fiance if you want, I know a jeweler who could lend us a ring."

"I couldn't ask that from you. It's supposed to be a jolly time."

"I'm offering."

"A tempting offer," you admitted. You didn't want to sound desperate, although he certainly knew you were. "What would be in it for you? How would I repay you?"

"Not being alone on Christmas is enough already. "

He started to fold the napkin into a tiny square, focused on making it look perfect.

"Well, I'm sure my family will be happy to keep you company. So will I."

He looked up at you, then nodded. "Tell me about them?"

So you spent dinner telling him about your parents and grandparents for the most part, small details of your siblings and nephews. You didn't want to overwhelm him too much.

You also spent days worrying it would end in catastrophe. What would your family think of you if things were to fall apart?

Bucky didn't back down when you warned him about the questions he would have to endure, or when you reminded him he would have to be affectionate to you.

He helped you wrap gifts and asked your opinion on the clothes he planned to wear. He was also curious if your family knew he was coming.

They did. You told your mom a day after your dinner with Bucky, on your daily morning phone call. She was thrilled, albeit mad that you hid your relationship status for so long.

You just hoped your grandmother would be as thrilled – maybe less offended that you kept a man hidden from her scrutiny.

He laughed when you told him she probably would try to get him for herself and grabbed your hand to tug you closer. "Can't do. I'm already taken, didn't you know?"

"Oh, really? Are they a better prospect than my grandma and her handmade blankets?"

"Hey, you never said something about handmade blankets. I might have to reconsider."

You hit him on the shoulder without even realizing you were doing it.

He didn't complain. Instead, he pulled you into him and said, "Your grandma will have to settle for having me as a grandson."

You were sure she would be glad to.

Bucky was easy to like. You weren't worried that anybody would have anything negative to say about him, not even your overprotective brother.

Looking up at him, you felt your face warm up as you realized he had been staring already. "Do you want me to drive tomorrow?"

"No, no. You just gotta guide me and look pretty."

You tried hard not to think about it, about his flirting and compliments. It came easy to him, it wasn't a big deal.

Well, it shouldn't have been.

════════════════════════

You sat on the passenger seat, letting a Christmas playlist do the heavy lifting as you did your best not to bombard Bucky with suggestions as to what to say.

He wasn't stupid, and you had found he listened to what everybody said and internalized the useful parts. He didn't need you to treat him like a distracted child.

You just needed everything to be perfect and to survive Christmas dinner without crying for once in your adult life.

As if knowing you were torn between your anxiety and the catchy song playing, Bucky reached over and rested his hand on your knee.

"I'll be the best boyfriend, doll, don't worry."

You didn't doubt it. "I've never lied to them like this."

There was a first for everything. You were just glad you weren't doing it on your own.

Bucky helped you carry the gifts while you carried the cake you got from a bakery Sharon recommended.

Your mom opened the door in all her glory, with her hair done and a glittery black sweater underneath her red apron. Her eyes lit up when she saw you and Bucky, potentially more because he was real than because she missed you, and ushered you both inside.

Most family members were there already for your grand entrance, expectant, a tad impatient to see the man they would get to judge together.

Your brother and dad tore their eyes away from the football highlights on the TV at the same time, examining Bucky from head to toe.

Bucky introduced himself as such, just Bucky, but your brother insisted on calling him James which earned him a pointed look from your mom.

"I've heard so much about you," your mom said cheerfully. An attempt to dissipate whichever tension your brother could have arisen.

Bucky laughed charmingly, sharing a complicit look with you. People around you surely saw it as a gesture between lovers. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you, ma'am."

He won her over with that, much like he did with your aunts and sister. Your brother would sneak weary glances from time to time and even looked offended when your dad laughed at something Bucky said.

But you agreed with your dad. Bucky was just so easily likable, serious on the exterior yet the funniest person you had met —a charming man who happened to be easy on the eyes.

Your grandmother, though, she almost fell in love with him. She grabbed your hand, giving it a strong squeeze. "See? I told you you'd be happier once you found a man."

You tried to smile at her.

"I'm the happiest," Bucky interjected. "Your granddaughter changed my life."

Your grandmother cooed, relishing just how right she had been. You were sure she was thinking you got lucky that you didn't even have to lose weight to find him.

If she thought so, she didn't say it. In fact, there wasn't a single comment regarding your weight the entire night. The fact that Bucky had his arm around your waist must have helped.

You saw another side of your grandmother, the fun one.

All you needed to be in harmony with your family had been to show up on somebody's arm.

It helped that Bucky was open to answering questions and patient with the kids who insisted he had to play with them because he was new.

Your brother was the only cautious one. He wasn't impolite, but his questions were as piercing as his eyes and his words too cold to come from your favorite person in the world.

He had never been anything but warm, much to some of the other men's disappointment. Raised mostly by your mom, you both were taught to be welcoming, to choose kindness even when it was the toughest thing to do.

But your kind brother didn't appear when it came to Bucky. You feared he knew you so well that your ruse had been discovered.

You followed your brother to the patio where you found him checking his phone. His fiancé was on a family trip, he probably missed them.

"You could be a little nicer," you said casually.

Your brother let out a huff, putting his phone away. "He looks like the type."

"The type?"

"Like the ones I had to beat up for breaking your heart in high school."

You tried not to think about those people and their cruel jokes. Their bets, their mocking tones. You had enough with the things your grandmother still said, the never-heard-before heartlessness she would throw your way the moment you showed up on your own again.

"This isn't high school."

"I'm looking out for you."

"Why don't you just say you think he's out of my league?"

"Because that's not it." He sounded offended, ever the protector. To make matters worse, he wisely said, "You didn't have to get a boyfriend if you weren't ready."

You frowned, trying to read his face in an attempt to find what he was getting at. Bucky wasn't the first person you had introduced your family to as a partner.

"If anything," he said, standing tall and lifting his shoulders in a shrug, "you're out of his league — who dates a coworker?"

"Me."

Your brother shook his head in disapproval, as he often did when you were younger. His semblance softened immediately. "You know what I mean."

"I don't."

He twisted his mouth, then tilted his head as he pointed —to him— the obvious, "He's more into you than you're into him."

"I wish you wouldn't say it like it's a bad thing."

"It is when you're so stiff around him."

Maybe you let your nerves get the best out of you. "I don't want to give Mom and Dad the wrong impression. Or grandma... you know how they are."

"Just... be careful. And call me if you need me; for anything."

You kissed his cheek in assurance and went back inside. Only then, you realized just how cold it was outside — you were only wearing a sweater.

You sat close to Bucky, resting your head on his bicep as your mom continued telling him about her upcoming retirement.

He wrapped his arm around you, bringing you closer. His comforting warmth seeped into you, pressed to his chest. He rubbed his hand along your arm, feeling just how cold you were.

You hoped he wouldn't want to move any time soon.

If he wanted to, he concealed it well. Bucky was hesitant to part from you when dinner was served, and even more after when your niece asked you to do her hair.

Eventually, you had to leave. It wasn't ludicrously late, but the drive was an hour long and you didn't have it in you to send Bucky home on his own while you stayed there for the night — inviting him to stay was out of the question.

He promised to visit soon, joking that he would bring you with him as a plus one. Your grandmother laughed so loudly that it scared you. It made you sad. You got your family's hopes up, and for what? A peaceful dinner that would only serve as a bitter reminder?

It was over so quickly and the aftermath would haunt you until you found someone else to lie. Or to actually date.

There was a chance you ruined it for yourself. Who would your grandmother approve of after having met Bucky?

You didn't know if you would approve of anybody else after that either. It didn’t snow this year. As though even the weather thought you had been wrong for lying to your family on Christmas from all days.

Bucky nudged you. "You good?"

"Yeah," you answered quickly

"You sure?"

"It was a long day."

"You didn't have a good time?"

"I woke up at five in the morning," you clarified. Not a lie, but you were used to that kind of schedule. "I'm surprised you still have so much energy."

"Having good company helped."

You hated that he said that.

It would have been so nice to agree, to enjoy how happy your grandmother had been, and your mom's laugh, and your sweet brother's worry...

Not hearing vitriolic comments about your body and lifestyle was lovely. You would still hear it soon, but at least your Christmas hadn't been ruined by your family but by yourself.

Sadness washed over you as your apartment came into view. You didn't know exactly why, he was still your friend, you would see him at work and have a secret just for the two of you which meant you were closer friends now.

You shouldn't have been glad to have him as a friend, to have a person willing to lie to multiple people just so you would have a good Christmas.

"Thank you. For everything." You didn't know how else to say goodbye. You would see him in a couple of days at work.

Ever the polite one, he smiled and said, "It was my pleasure."

You climbed out of the car and told him to drive safely. Bucky only nodded. Waving at him in goodbye, you smiled softly. Then, you stepped into the first front step.

"Hey,” he called for you from the car.

You turned around. “Yeah?"

He rolled the window up and killed the engine. Swiftly, Bucky got out of the car and approached you. "I liked it."

"You can come next year if you want." And if he wasn't busy. Or in a relationship.

"I didn't— I mean, yes, I would like that, but I liked the whole thing.”

Your heartbeat quickened. You lifted your eyebrows, not able to ask what he meant by that.

But you didn’t need to, Bucky was willing to openly say it, "You know, the handholding. And having you all over me especially.”

You froze on the spot, watching him get even closer. You were still on the first step, meeting his gaze by mistake.

He huffed to himself and added, "I always thought you were pretty, but having you this close... God, how did I ever go about my life without this? How can I go back to that?"

"Buck..."

"Look—"

"You wanna come in? Have some hot cocoa or a glass of wine?"

He let out a relieved laugh. “Yeah. It’s fucking freezing out here.”

It was and while you thought you looked pretty in your cozy sweater and your light coat, you really should have layered up. Bucky hung his jacket in the coat closet as though he had done so hundreds of times.

“Wine or hot cocoa?” you asked once he was comfortable in the living room.

“Wine.”

You pulled a pair of glasses out of the cupboard and set them on the counter.

Bucky stopped you from reaching for the bottle. “Wait.”

You turned around to face him. “Changed your mind?”

At the same time, he asked, “Can I kiss you first?”

You pressed your lips to his as an answer. He quickly kissed you back, cupping your cheek in one hand while the other one found the space between your hip and waist.

He caressed your cheek, making you sigh into the kiss which he took as an opportunity to deepen it. You grabbed his face, accepting the pace he chose to kiss you with.

The hold on your body became stronger as Bucky tried to pull you closer for which he lost his step, making you laugh and pull away in worry that he would hit his hip against the kitchen table.

He shook his head, assuring you he was fine.

Your hands ended up on his shoulders while he grabbed you by the waist with both hands.

"Merry Christmas," he said against your lips before kissing you again.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x plus size reader #ficmas

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hana-no-seiiki · 11 months

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yandere! aquamarine x reincarnated! reader x yandere! ruby blurb

warnings: yandere themes, spoilers(?) just don’t search up kamiki if you don’t want to know. rushed and unedited.

[ PART TWO ]

Much like the twins you, Saitou [Y/N], were born into the world with memories of your previous life intact. As their younger adoptive sibling from Miyako and an unknown male idol, you were pretty much under strict supervision since day one.

You preferred to keep your reincarnation a secret as you had no idea they were reborn like you. Thus, to them you were just a frail little child that needed protection.

Ruby didn’t know why she was so entranced by you, perhaps it was because you were just so adorable — so utterly irresistible with those huge, sparkly eyes — that despite her overflowing obsession with her mother at that time, she still had room to swoon over your plump cheeks. She was a face-con at heart after all.

Aqua didn’t really appreciate you much until the death of his mother and even then he was still a cold bastard. You could see the bloodlust in his eyes, the way it would darken when he would give into those emotions. You acknowledged his authority over you, and would always follow his instructions to a tee. You were the moon between two stars, a lonely and shy existence.

It was until you didn’t go through that he finally noticed your true brilliance.

Bartering.

The one benefit of being the moon was that you could easily hide behind the clouds to do whatever you want.

Throughout your teenage years you’d actually been performing in your school and other venues. You had even revealed yourself to previous friends and colleagues.

One such colleague, had an offer. You were to perform as an idol once again in his company, in exchange for a few favors, that is assistance to be provided to Komachi B in their promotions and Aqua’s in his search for his father.

At this point Ruby and Aqua were quite literally your second family.

And you had a feeling, a feeling that if you’d do this everything will be unveiled.

“Don’t look away — !” You sang the last line to the song you’d written for this moment.

The stage, it had been so long since you’d been on it yet it still felt like home. You see in your previous life you had breathed and lived through music. It was your air. Your reason and basis for life.

When Aqua and Ruby saw you perform it was as if explosives had gone through their head. Their eyes were glued to your movements and ears were peeled to your voice throughout the entire song. They had never seen you dance or sing before, they didn’t even know you could do so. But in that moment you looked you like you belonged under the spotlight. No, you were the spotlight.

What they thought was the moon was actually the brightest sun.

“Fantastic performance. As expected from the top of the international industry.” Your benefactor clapped. They’d seen you perform before a multitude of times but you never ceased to entice them with your stage presence.

“You flatter me.” You smiled, your eyes glowing as bright as the binary stars your stagename was chosen after. Your gaze flicking back and forth at those flowers they’d given and their face.

Sirius.

“Kamiki-san.”

[note]: will be expanded upon if asks are sent/if this gains enough traction lol.

[ PART 2 NOW OUT: CHECK IT ]

#yandere #yandere x reader #oshi no ko #oshi no ko x reader #yandere oshi no ko #aquamarine #ruby #yandere aquamarine x reader #aquamarine hoshino #ruby hoshino #yandere ruby hoshino #yandere aquamarine hoshino x reader #yandere x you #yandere ruby x reader #yandere idol

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dellalyra · 9 months

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Gojo, who just for ONCE, ends up somehow cooking an actual meal. A meal that doesn't seem poisonous or sweet in any way. That is actually edible. And now everyone is just having a mixed range of emotions because how and why has he just cooked something edible? (And idk its somehow pure coincidence that this has occured or he literally followed a recipe but reader keeps throwing things at him to check its still her husband and it just keeps hitting him cause he hasn't turned on infinity)

This seems like a long request so do not feel obligated to do this ajfnejc

ɪᴍᴘᴏꜱᴛᴇʀ? - 𝘍𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘺 𝘍𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴

pixie says: this was so fun to write oh my god! i love this idea sm, i hope you like it too!!

Eggs. Parmesan. Linguine. Pancetta. Salt. Pepper.

Surely, this couldn’t be too hard? He could definitely do this. He’s the strongest sorcerer alive - he definitely can conquer a carbonara for his wife. He clicks his fingers and curses disintegrate, so that means he’s going to make the best dinner ever. At least, that’s his logic.

He usually brought you out to eat for your birthday, but he decided he’d treat you to a Satoru Gojo Michelin Star meal at home with the kids tonight.

He could do this.

He won’t be defeated.

Not by pasta.

Tsumiki and you had been to the salon to get your nails done (Satoru’s treat) and Megumi hung around the nearby book store until you both were done - stating that he didn’t want his nails done this time because they got chipped when he played with his dogs.

“Mama.” She says, eyes fixated ahead of her.

Pulling up to the cottage, you listen to the boy in the backseat tell you about the book he picked up. You notice Tsumiki freeze beside you.

“Tsumiki? What’s wrong? What do you - oh, shit.” You saw it mid sentence. The kitchen light was on and you could see the silhouette of your husband through the curtains.

“Mom? ‘Miki? What’s wrong? Is it a curse? With this treasure - ” Megumi starts from behind you.

“Papa’s in the kitchen.” His sister responds.

“Fuck.” The 13 year old responds, utilising the deal that they can swear as long as it’s just around family.

“We gotta go.” You take the key from the ignition and vault out of your seat, using speed Megumi had only ever seen when he came to minor missions with you.

You whip open the kitchen door and you’re immediately greeted with a smell.

And not the scent of smoke and melted rubber you expect from seeing your husband in the kitchen.

The smell was… really good.

And you recognised it immediately as your favourite meal.

The kids skid in behind you and go through the same motions.

“There’s no fire.” Tsumiki states.

“Are we sure it’s dad? Maybe uncle Nanamin came over?” Megumi asks.

“We do Kooking with Kento on Thursday, and it’s Saturday. I’m pretty sure he’s on a date tonight anyway.” You whisper, toeing off your shoes and slowly creeping to the kitchen.

As you round the corner, you see your husband in your floral apron singing along to music from the speaker - music you recognise as your wedding playlist from 3 months ago.

The kitchen is clean. There’s no fire. No food on the ceiling. The utensils all seem to be intact and the oven door is still attached and the counter tops aren’t melted (all things Satoru’s cooking has caused).

He spins around.

“Princess! There’s my birthday girl! Let’s see those nails! You too ‘Miki!” You both hold out your hands, still surveying the room - Megumi walks in with the fire extinguisher.

“Oh these are so pretty, ‘Miki! Purple is a very nice colour on you.” He says, looking at her fingers as she smiles at him. Charming bastard.

He turns to yours next.

“Princess, these are beautiful! I love the shiny bits on the blue!” He says, meaning the chrome on the baby blue acrylics.

“Thank you, ‘toru. But… what’s going on?” You say, kissing him on the cheek.

“I made dinner! It’s your favourite! C’mon, everyone go sit at the table.” He smiles and swats you all with the cloth he’s holding and you all go sit at the table.

“What is happening.” You breathe out.

He comes over, somehow balancing four bowls.

“Et voila! Bone apple feet!” He says, placing the dishes in front of you all and sitting beside you, pouring you a glass of white wine.

The food… looks incredible. Creamy, silky and perfectly cooked and presented like you’d see in a restaurant.

You grab your fork and twirl some pasta onto it, tentatively putting a bite into you mouth.

You freeze.

Not in the way you usually freeze when you’re eating his home cooked meals.

But because it’s so fucking delicious.

You turn to look at him as you swallow and see him smiling at you, glasses removed onto the table.

“Who are you?” You ask.

“Satoru Gojo - clan head of the Gojo’s, wielder of the six eyes and limitless, husband to The Dryad and father of two gremlins.” He smiles, cocky as ever.

You poke his cheek.

“You’re not an illusion?”

“Nope! In the flesh!”

You ball up a napkin and toss it at him. Hitting him square on the nose.

“Eh?! Excuse you, madam!” He exclaims, hands on his hips.

You grab a piece of bread from the basket on the table and throw that at him too. By now, Tsumiki is laughing and Megumi is smirking at the sight before him.

“Woman! Quit throwing stuff at me!” He says, tossing the bread back at you.

“Not until I’m sure you’re not a curse with the abilities of a chef who has replaced my husband. My husband can’t cook, and this is the best carbonara I’ve ever tasted.” You see his eyes light up as you say that.

“Of course it’s the best! I made it!” He retorts, digging into his food.

You blink for a moment.

“How did you do this?” You ask.

“So I put the pasta in some water, cooked the pancetta- ”

“No - my ‘toru can’t cook to save his life.”

“Rude! I make amazing hot chocolate!”

“You actually did this? By yourself? From scratch?” You grab his cheeks and turn his face to look at you.

“Yeah! Followed a video on YouTube.”

You slammed your lips onto his, and feel him smirk into the kiss.

“Get a damn room!” Megumi mutters.

“Stop it, Megumi - they’re so cute. I hope my boyfriend will do things like that for me.” Tsumiki replies, scolding her sibling before her voice took on a dreamy quality exclusive to a teenage girl.

“I’ll be sure to tell Kaito from your class that you like homemade food.” He says, snickering and teasing her with the knowledge of her crush on the boy.

“Shut it, sea urchin!”

“Oi! You two! It’s your momma’s birthday, you can bully each other tomorrow.” Satoru directs to them.

He looks at you are you’re smiling a big, glittery smile at him which makes his heart skip a beat.

“This is so amazing, ‘toru. Thank you so much for everything. I love you so much.” You say as you fling your arms around his neck.

“Anything for you, Princess.”

#jjk #jjk x reader #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo fluff #anime #family formations extras #dad!gojo

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babybluebex · 10 months

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rememories | tommy shelby x fem!reader

summary: the lee family trashed your betting room, including your most prized possessions, and tommy does everything in his power to soothe you and right the wrongs that the rival gang caused. pairing: tommy shelby (peaky blinders) x fem!reader tags: s1!tommy, tommy being a sweetheart, your daughter's name is thomasine (thanks @lost-in-sokovia for that one), no real warnings for this other than like angst? brief emotional distress? idk author's note: it's come to this lol. i'll be fixing my cillian masterlist later and reblogging it, so y'all can read all of my old tommy fics (and a few other cillian characters lmao) but i hope you enjoy this one!

The backroom was in total disrepair. Chairs were tipped over, things were thrown from tables, coins scattered everywhere and marks of bludgeonings on the walls. The poor little room was merely a shell of itself, its personality and life battered away. You could still hear your husband’s jaded laughter as he made fun of John for wanting to marry Lizzie Stark, but mere minutes ago now seemed like a lifetime away.

Scudboat sat as Arthur poured him whisky, and he explained how the Lees, “the whole lot of ‘em”, came in and destroyed the betting backroom. He was ambushed, he said, or he would have done a better job defending it. You held Tommy’s hands as fear made your own shake, and your husband sighed. “Find what can be salvaged,” he said, narrowly missing John’s angry fit as he kicked a box over. “Anything is better than nothing.”

“This is terrible,” you sniffled, and Tommy extracted his handkerchief for you. It was one that you had bought for him right after you had gotten married and just before he went to war, and you were always amazed that the silky cloth made it as far as it did. You dabbed at your eyes, scowling at your dark makeup that came off, and your heart beat fiercely against your ribcage for a moment. “The children. Was Finn here for this, Scudboat? Or Thomasine?”

“Nah,” he said. “Finn was off in town; Thomasine ain’t come home from school yet.”

“Oh, Tommy, they can’t see the house like this!” you whimpered and clutched your husband’s arm. “It’ll upset Thomasine too much. I’ll fetch her from school and keep her away from the house for a while until this is mostly fixed.”

Tommy nodded wordlessly in agreement, and he began to take off his cap, but he quickly stopped. He was fixated on something on the floor at his feet, and you looked down to match his gaze, only to be greeted with the big leather book that held your most prized possessions: your photographs. You kept the album in the betting room because it was always filled with people, witnesses in case something happened, and, really, who would want to ruin Tommy Shelby’s wife’s photographs?

Your knees crunched on glass as you lowered yourself to the album, and you took it in your shaking hands. The dark green leather was stained black with spilled ink and oil, obscuring your gold-foiled name on the spine, and you opened the book with a creak of the old pages. You didn’t want to have to assess the damage, but the first page already had you weeping pathetically again. The first photograph, the first one ever taken of you and Tommy, sitting and laughing together as Ada tried out her new camera, years and years ago at fifteen and thirteen. It was gone. The page was yellowed all around where the photograph should be, but the picture itself was gone. You wanted to throw the book across the room and scream; you weren’t concerned with material things, many girls from Small Heath were the same way, but those photographs were your pride and joy. The next page was a formal picture taken of Tommy wearing his Army uniform, his lanky seventeen-year-old build a little too small for the uniform that he would grow into. The corner of the photograph was torn but, thankfully, mostly intact.

The third page made you press the book to your chest. Your wedding photographs. You and Tommy had gotten married quickly, two days before he had to go to France, and, in your haste, you hadn’t been able to afford much. You could only afford a single copy of each photograph: one of you in your Sunday best that was your wedding dress, one of Tommy in his uniform, and one of you together. All three photographs were torn to shreds, settled in the spine of the book, waiting for you to find them. Those wedding photographs were the most important thing in the world to you, and now they were gone. Not even pasting glue could fix it. “Tom!” you sobbed, pressing the back of your wrist to your mouth. “O-Our wedding photographs! Th-They’re all ripped up!”

Your husband’s attention went from Scudboat to you, and he walked over to you and knelt down next to you. He took the small bits of photographs in his fingers, examining them intently, and he sighed heavily. “Fuck, love,” he whispered, and your sobs grew heavy. If Tommy was resigned to fate, then there was no chance of them being fixed. “I’m sorry.”

“We-We don’t have any extras, do we?” you stuttered. Your mouth felt dry as your fingers tried to match the ripped edges of photographs up, but they were too far gone. “Tom, d-do we have any others? Th-These aren’t the only ones we have, right?”

Tommy sat down next to you and put an arm around you, and he watched you frantically sob for just a second more before he used his strength to pull you into his chest. The photo album fell out of your hands, and you clutched your husband as you wailed in sorrow. Your wedding photos were gone.

“Mummy?” you heard a little voice call from the doorway, and you turned to see your wee daughter, Miss Thomasine Sophia Shelby, standing at the door. She was holding her school books in her arms, the pink ribbon in her hair coming loose. Thomasine was born just after Tommy come home from France, five years ago, and she looked like a Shelby, dark hair and bright eyes, but she had her father’s smile. “Mummy, why’re you crying?”

You sniffled and wiped at your eyes, not caring that you streaked your makeup to hell and back, and you mumbled, “People came into the house, did us over. I-I’m just sad, that’s all.” You didn’t want to worry your daughter with the real reason why you were so upset, because, truly, you felt silly for being so distraught at fucking photographs. It felt ridiculous for you, as a grown woman, a mother, to be crying over photographs.

Thomasine ran to you and sat her small body in your lap, and she wrapped her small arms around you. “Don’t be sad,” Thomasine told you, and you laughed humorlessly. “It’s okay, Mummy.”

You sniffled and soothed your hand down Thomasine’s hair— the ends of her long hair were turning a little ginger, just the same as her father’s tended to do in the sun— and you kissed her forehead. “Thank you, love,” you whispered. “Hug your father, he’s sad too.”

Thomasine crawled out of your lap and into Tommy’s, and Thomasine started to suck her thumb as Tommy stood up and settled his daughter firmly on his hip. He offered you a hand to stand up, and you sniffled as you gathered the soiled photo album up in your grip and stood up on your own. “If you find any of ‘em,” Tommy called to the room, and he gestured to the album in your arms. “Bring ‘em to her, don’t waste time. Yeah?”

You hardly slept that night. After securing the house and making sure that there wasn’t any other part of it that the Lees had touched, you had tried to go about your life normally, but it was difficult to pretend like you didn’t know that, at any time, rivals could enter your home and slaughter every last one of you. You put Thomasine to bed after dinner, and your girl fell asleep quickly, but you yourself were awake for hours. Tommy had taken your photo album and put it away in his wardrobe; “If you keep it, you’ll fret over it forever.” He was right, of course, because, when the sun came up, you had tugged it out and was trying to sort through the scraps of photographs on your bedroom floor. The room was cold and part of you wished that you could be in bed, holding your husband close, but you needed to do it for yourself. You had managed to salvage a single photograph by the time Tommy was blinking himself awake, and you sniffled as you beckoned him over. “Tommy, look!” you exclaimed. “I-It’s Thomasine!”

“Jesus, woman,” Tommy sighed groggily. “Have you been at this all night?”

“Yes!” you exclaimed. “Her baby picture, look!”

Tommy reached down for you and he took your hand, and he helped you stand up, his hands going to hold your cheeks. “I know you’re having a hard time with this,” he whispered. “But obsessing over it is only going to make it worse. They’re as good as gone, darling.”

“B-But—” you sniffled, and Tommy shook his head.

“You have to let it go,” He told you firmly. “Come back to bed, you don’t have to be awake for hours.”

“Oh, Tommy,” you sighed, shuffling back up to bed. Your joints hurt from sitting on the floor practically all night, and your vision watered up as you watched Tommy gather up the album and photograph scraps and set them back in his wardrobe. “What am I going to do? All of my favorite memories are lost.”

“You still have the memories in your head, love,” Tommy told you, sitting next to you. You leaned into him and pressed your cheek to his warm chest, and you sniffled as you squeezed your eyes shut.

“I just…” you mumbled. “Our wedding pictures is the thing I’m most upset about. We were so young, and that was before everything went to shit, and we were so happy…”

“We’re still happy,” Tommy assured you. “We’re happier now, because we have Thomasine. We’re a complete family now.”

“You know what I mean,” you said. “We were poor kids, and-and looking at those pictures gave me hope that you’d come home when you were in France. They were my lifeline for a long time, and to have them ruined like this…”

Tommy’s lips formed into a thin line, and he rubbed your back comfortingly as you finally laid down and tried to settle into sleep. Your sleep was thin, hardly even deep enough to call proper sleep, but you finally woke up and got out of bed when you heard shouting down in the bottom of the house. You were used to that, but you still felt like you ought to make sure everything was alright, so you pulled yourself from bed and went about groggily getting ready for the day, slipping on a dress and spraying on perfume before descending the stairs.

The noise seemed to be coming from the back room, the ruined betting room, and you carefully pushed back the plush curtains and opened the doors to see a sight. Your eyes first landed on your husband, dressed in his old uniform. It certainly looked too small for him, tugging a little at his chest, but you clenched your teeth together at the sight. How long has it been since you saw him in the pea-soup-green uniform? Five years, at least. “Tommy,” you said softly. You couldn’t help yourself from stepping closer to him as his head snapped to look at you, and his hard gaze softened in the way it always did when he saw you. He never subjected you to his steely gaze, and, whenever you saw it, it always reminded you of what a feared man he was.

“Fuck, love, what’re you doing down here?” Tommy asked. “You’re supposed to be asleep still.”

“Heard shouting,” you said softly. The other men were bustling around the room as you smoothed your hands up Tommy’s chest, and your eyes went all watery again. “This isn’t happening, please, no.”

“What’s wrong?” Tommy asked. “Talk to me, darling, what’s the matter?”

“How long have you known?” you asked, sniffling. “Leaving us like this, how could you?”

“What?”

“The uniform, Tommy!” you cried. “You’re being called to the war again, why else would you have this shit on?”

Tommy grabbed your cheeks and kissed your forehead, and he angled your head to the side. Arthur stood there, behind a massive camera, angled at a blank space on the wall, and your breath caught in your throat. “What is this?” you asked.

“I’m not being called back,” Tommy explained. “I got to thinking about our wedding pictures, and I went to see the photographer who made them. He said the film was too old and that they couldn’t make you new copies, so the next best thing was to retake them.”

“Oh?” you asked. You sniffled and wiped your nose, and you gently reached out to touch the camera. “We… We’re retaking our wedding pictures?”

“With a few adjustments,” Tommy said. “Back then, I couldn’t afford to even get you so much as a bouquet, but now… Well, I took your measurements to a dress shop, and even though the dress was pre-made and only adjusted to you…”

“Tommy?” you whimpered.

“I got you a wedding dress, love,” Tommy told you. “Better than the flour-bag Sunday best that you had on.”

You gasped, covering your mouth with your hands, and you sobbed once before flying to your husband and crushing him in a hug. “Oh, Tommy!” you cried. “Thank you! Can I see it?”

“Pol’s got it in the kitchen,” Tommy told you. “Go put it on, why don’t you let me see it?”

The dress was beautiful. Eggshell-colored silk that fell below your knees with long sleeves and deep neckline, very fashionable and pretty, and it fit you like a glove as Polly helped you into it. She primped you a little, fixing your hair and patting red rouge onto your lips, and she upturned a vase next to the stove and handed you the bouquet of wildflowers that Thomasine had picked a few days earlier. You felt timid and almost nervous as Polly escorted you back to the betting room, and you cleared your throat once you passed the threshold, afraid that, if you spoke, your voice would give up on you.

Tommy looked to you in an instant, and he gave you a small smile as he stepped towards you. “Aren’t you a sight?” he said in his rumbling timbre, putting his hands on your hips, and he kissed your lips for a moment before he added, “Thomasine might get a brother before the day’s over, if you keep looking that beautiful.”

“Oh, shut up,” you giggled, and he steered you in front of the camera as you smoothed down your dress. You were suddenly nervous, and you clutched Tommy’s hand as Arthur cranked the camera, preparing it to go off. “Tom?”

“M’right here, pet,” Tommy said, squeezing your hand. “Just smile; everything will be fine.”

By the time night fell, you had a whole slew of new film, new pictures to replace the ruined ones. Recreations of your wedding pictures, an updated picture of a smiling Thomasine, even one of Tommy kissing you when the camera went off on accident. Thomasine was tangled in your skirts then, gazing up at her daddy, and you looked at the film as you sat by the fire that night, smiling and admiring it. That was your favorite memory; you, your husband, and your daughter, smiling, laughing, loving. It was perfect.

#tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x you #peaky blinders fanfic #cillian murphy x reader #cillain murphy x you

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mcuamerica · 1 month

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The Shadowsinger: One

Warnings: 18+. Minors DNI. loss of family, gore, canon level mention of violence, Tamlin, heavy spoilers for ACOTAR series. If I forgot anything, please let me know!

Pairings: (Eventual) Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary: After you were claimed as Amarantha's Shadowsinger, you meet the High Lord of the Night Court.

Disclaimer: I do not own SJM’s characters, only the ones I create for the purpose of this story. This is a work of fiction. I do not give permission to repost my work on any other platform or medium. Please be respectful.

My graphics are my own. If you wish to use them, please give credit!

Series Masterlist

Prologue

Just 6 months before everyone was trapped Under the Mountain is when she raided your small northern Illyria village. And it was all because of that male you slept with. When you thought he was sleeping and allowed your shadows to come out, he saw. And he knew. He ran back and told his camp Lord, who told Amarantha the second he could. The Lord had sworn allegiance to her before a few others did as well.

Every single villager was taken to one of the camps she had. Sirona, Igna, and Oran included. Every single one of them but you. At first, she threatened you with their lives, and you begged her to spare them. You begged her harder when she threatened to rip off your wings. So, she made you a bargain. One she didn’t make with anyone else.

So long as you would be her personal Shadowsinger, her spy, and told her nothing but what you thought to be the truth, your friends and your wings would remain intact. You foolishly agreed. Not aware of the loopholes that she would find ways around in the coming years.

You were there when she trapped everyone Under the Mountain. You were responsible for her having bargaining power over certain High Lords. How she was able to put a leash on everyone’s powers. You were trapped with everyone else. But you were her spy, and she still needed information from the outside. So she allowed you out, but only when she deemed it necessary.

And you met Rhysand. The High Lord of the Night Court. The High Lord of your home. Or what used to be. And not just a High Lord, but a Carynthian, the highest ranking form of an Illyrian that you knew. And he was Amarantha’s whore.

Rhysand had a familiar feeling the moment he laid eyes on you. Not only because you reminded him of his Shadowsinger brother, but something deeper. Something he hadn’t been able to place for the 50 years Under the Mountain.

When you first told him of your bargain with Amarantha, he was wary to tell you anything. He definitely wasn’t going to tell you about Velaris. Not when you had a bargain to tell her the truth about anything you learned. And lying to her would only get you killed.

Then he learned why you’d done it. How you bargained to keep your friends, your family (albeit not blood related), safe. To keep your wings unharmed. At least unharmed by her. So he decided he would do everything he could to keep his secrets from you. Not because he didn’t want you to know, but because he didn’t want you hurt. Or your family hurt.

You had learned to lean on each other during those 50 years. Amarantha would often send you out together. Even though she trusted you and Rhysand to bring her valuable information alone, she also knew that you couldn’t lie about the information that he told her.

But Rhys had learned to keep you in the dark, away from conversations, when he knew you didn’t want her to know what was going on. You couldn’t lie about something if you didn’t hear it. If your shadows didn’t tell you.

And then Feyre came. The 19 year old girl, human, professing her love for Tamlin. One of the first things that your shadows whispered to you about her was that she indeed did love him. Something Amarantha forced out of you once they took Feyre to her cell. After they beat her, of course.

You remembered when Rhys went out for Calanmai, even if he didn’t tell you what happened. You remember him coming back from Tamlin’s manor and telling you about Clare. You were on the mission to go retrieve her, just to conceal Amarantha’s soldiers enough so they could do their worst. Thankfully you weren’t asked to question Clare… Thankfully for Prythian, not Clare. You didn’t know you were retrieving the wrong woman.

What Amarantha did to Clare, how she displayed her decaying body in the throne room, you could barely watch. You knew Rhys had taken her mind. He wouldn’t let innocents suffer. It didn’t help, either way. Knowing that Amarantha would use it against you if you looked away or left the room. Especially because she may need use of your shadows to scare the poor girl even more.

You watched as Feyre defeated the Wyrm, as she miraculously survived the second task. You knew she couldn’t read. Your shadows told you the second the spikes started descending on her and Lucien. You thought they were going to die. But somehow, after hovering over the second lever for so long, she chose the third. It was like someone told her to do it.

Rhys didn’t mention he was sending Nuala and Cerridwen down to retrieve Feyre on those nights after their own bargain. Or what their bargain even entailed. He didn’t want you knowing the secrets. Not when it would ruin the plan he had in place.

So you stood by as Feyre held the fate of Prythian in her hands, with the dagger as she plunged it into Tamlin’s stone solid heart.

It wasn’t easy, watching Amarantha as she killed Feyre for it. As Rhys roared for her, fought for her. All while Tamlin did nothing but beg. Granted, he was injured, but he didn’t do anything. Didn’t even fight as Feyre’s neck snapped. You even tried to send your shadows towards Amarantha to blind her for Rhys, but she shot out a string of magic and knocked you on the floor and held you there.

But Feyre solved the riddle. She freed you all. And you took a deep breath as you felt more magic swell in you than you noticed before. Maybe it was from it being gone for 50 years. Or restrained, at least.

And Tamlin killed her. He did what every person Under the Mountain was wishing, any sane person at least. Amarantha was dead and you were free. Free to keep secrets from whomever you wanted. Free to see your family without fear that you would endanger them.

That final night roaming about in the upper floors of the Mountain changed your life even more. When you approached Rhys to say goodbye. To go to the camp your family was being held at and take them back to the village. If anything was left. It was then that he gave you an offer that was hard to refuse.

“Come with me,” he whispered. “To Velaris.” He said and you tilted your head, not understanding what that was. Without even reading your mind, he continued. “It’s my Court that isn’t known to anyone. I’ve kept it hidden from everyone. From her… but I want you there. I want you to meet my family. I want my family to meet the female who helped me through these years…” he said. “I want you to meet another Shadowsinger.” He said.

You stood there, blinking for a few moments. “Rhys…” you muttered. “I have my family-“

“They can come. I’ll get you set up in a townhouse with them. And if you’d like, we could see about you working as part of my Court.” He said. “Think about it. I’ll ask your decision by tonight. Once you’re with your family.”

You took a deep, shaky breath. You bounded over to him and wrapped your arms around him. “Thank you. For everything you’ve done here.” You whispered. The only response from him was a small hum followed by a tight squeeze.

You stepped back and thanked him again before disappearing with your shadows to the camp your family was in. Where you would finally get to see Sirona, Igna, and Oran. Even if they weren’t blood, they had taken care of you and seen you mature all those years. You may have failed them the day Amarantha came, but you hoped they knew that what you did, you did for them.

Only, you made it too late. The camp had been burned down hours ago. There had been a spell on it, tied with Amarantha’s blood. If she was to die, all of the buildings were to burn with anyone inside. Her foot soldiers or not. And only this camp. As if that last final blow would finally break you. It almost did.

Your knees buckled as you made it to your family’s building, shadows wrapping around you as you fell to the ground. The building was still simmering with fire. But you could smell it. Burnt flesh, blood, and soot mixed together. It caused you to vomit right in front of the small room Igna and Oran shared together. As you staggered inside, you knew they were gone. You were alone again. The only people who loved you were gone.

But you still had Rhys. So when he went into your mind, gently scraping a talon on the walls he taught you to build up, you said yes. In despair. He knew something was wrong. So he winnowed to the camp. He spotted you outside your family’s building, holding onto a small book as you trembled. And he held you as you sobbed. Just as he had sobbed when he reached his family in Velaris. Only you weren’t as lucky as him. Your family was dead, and his was healthy and happy to see him.

Series Masterlist

A/N: A reminder, this is a story about the reader more than it is a love story. It's quite a slow burn for a while. I started it immediately after I finished reading the ACOTAR series. I'm reading TOG now, no spoilers please.

Chapter 2 will be posted April 23rd.

Taglist: @cherry-cin @cleverzonkwombatsludge @nickishadowsinger139

Join taglist here

#acotar fic #acotar fanfiction #acotar #azriel x reader #the shadowsinger #katie writes #acotar spoilers #minors dni

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gffa · 1 year

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THAT SOFT LITTLE SIGH BO-KATAN LETS OUT AS THEY’RE BREAKING CLOUD COVER OVER MANDALORE IS DESTROYING ME!!!

The way she looks down at the wreckage of the dome!!!

The way her gaze flickers around when she says, “It didn’t always look like this.”, girl is trying so hard to keep her protective shell intact!!!

She forces her gaze back forward, tries to present a hard face, but there’s just something there. This is the face of someone who is trying so hard to be cold and empty, but still aches over what happened, is still someone who has had her vulnerable underbelly slashed open again, because this is Mandalore, because this is what’s left of her family, her people, her civilization, her planet, and she was supposed to have protected it, she knew it when it was beautiful, she knows the rich history of Mandalore, and all of that is crashing back down on her and she just can’t take it again, she tries so hard to be cold and unaffected, but you can still see it on her.

And I am IN AGONY about Bo-Katan’s feelings about Mandalore because she knows she fucked up so bad and she’s so angry that anyone else could not just be a shell of their former selves at the loss of their home and so she’s so angry at the entire galaxy, she tries to make Din just go away, she plans on shutting him down for good, the moment he actually needs her, she can’t help herself, she goes running to save him. She can’t help herself with Mandalore, either. She tries so hard to shut down those feelings, to lock them away in a hard, bitter box, but there’s still a soft center there, one that’s cut open anew when she sees the devastation as they break through that cloud cover, the way she breathes out this almost silent sigh, because she carries this in her heart with her, wherever she goes.

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian spoilers #bo katan kryze #mandalore #meta

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mudwerks · 1 year

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video at link(via Steven Crowder’s Ex’s Family Shares Video of Him Berating Her for Not Fulfilling ‘Wifely' Duties)

this is the toxic bro that wants to eliminate “divorce without the husband’s consent”... turns out he’s a total abusive asshole. WHO KNEW?

“The truth is that Hilary spent years hiding Steven’s mentally and emotionally abusive behavior from her friends and family while she attempted to save their marriage. She was the one who was asking to work on their relationship to keep the marriage intact for their unborn children,” Hilary’s family told journalist Yashar Ali in a statement, which included video footage that he shared on Twitter on Wednesday. The family further accused Crowder of being the one to instigate the divorce, claiming he wasn’t present for the birth of their children, moved out of their home, cut Hilary off financially, and hired a divorce lawyer.

The disturbing video footage shows an argument between Crowder and a very pregnant Hilary, in which Crowder refuses to let her take the car and leave the house, claiming she failed “to do wifely things.”

video at link

#Steven Crowder #abusive #mental and emotional #no divorce without husband's consent

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the-desilittle-bird · 1 year

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Author's Note- Took a little break from studies and wrote this down. Hope you like it. Also, requests are always well appreciated.

Thank you and Enjoy your reading!

Never Yours

Daemon Targaryen x Niece!Reader;

Husband!Cregan Stark x Wife!Reader

Part 2

Summary- The Lady of Winterfell returns to her home to find a jealous loved ones and a broken lover

Tag List- @minaxcarter, @eliseline, @blackhoodlea, @little-moonbeam-666, @neenieweenie, @omgsuperstarg, @avalyaaa, @shopping, @bbgmonsay, @michelle-26, @krokietinio, @hc-geralt-23, @chevelledahuman, @thekayarlene, @narcy, @helloitsshitzulover, @muushwrites, @daringboba, @bi2simps, @issybee0611, @yariany02, @agathe, @5moremin, @candypurplebutterfly, @saraelizabeth26, @moon-light1415, @targaryenmoony, @stargaryenx, @instabul, @shine101, @hyacinthus007, @mcam623, @eudximoniakr, @carissa_griffin7777, @marvelescvpe, @severewobblerlightdragon, @deltamoon666, @thatgirlthatreadswattpad, @ultrav0lence, @savagemickey03, @sunmoon-01

Warnings- Drunk & Angry!Daemon, Curse Words, Verbal Abuse (Sorry!), Westrosi Things...

GIF Credits to @thequeenwechoose

(Y/N) sat in the carriage, her daughter's hand in hers as she watched Aemma cooing to her youngest brother, Bran, only two summers old. (Y/N) had always wished for children, many; but she had never imagined to actually have them.

Cregan was a man of passion, as she had came to know in the years of their marriage. He was kind and honorable, but it was never him for the dragon princess. As much as she had came to love and respect the wolf lord, her heart belonged to another.

"We will be able to meet our cousins, right mother?" Viserys asked, excited to meet the cousins he had heard of. The worst part, the only bad part about living in the North was to tell her children about her family but never actually letting them meet.

But that changed when they received a raven from the king, asking them to march to the capital for some reasons kept unknown.

"Yes, you will, my love," (Y/N) smiled, watching out of the window of the carriage as it came to a halt in the huge courtyard of the keep. The door to the carriage opened and the Princess and Lady of North was the first one to step out of it, followed by her children.

A smile graced her face as she greeted her sister, standing beside her husband, her former lover uncle. "It's been quite some time since I saw you," Rhaenyra said with a smile, studying her sister who had grown up significantly.

"I didn't get time to visit between the responsibilities of North and motherhood," the second child of Viserys and Aemma said with a shrug before looking down shyly. "I have heard you have given birth to six children."

(Y/N) flushed at her sister's comment, whispering a small 'yes'. She heard her elder sister laugh, before she glided over to her children, all of whom stood in a perfect line as per their age.

Most of her children had took after their father while her eldest two sons were perfect replicas of herself. Silver hair and violet eyes with other worldly looks. They were her dearest of all.

Daemon and Viserys.

Rhaenyra smiled widely while on her inner side, she felt a sense of jealousy as she looked at (Y/N)'s children. Though most of them looked like the Stark Lord, only those with sharpest eyes could make out the small Valyrian features in them. May it be the lighter shade of browns as their hair, or the barely visible specks of lavender in their eyes.

Her children and (Y/N)'s both had a father not belonging to Valyrain descent and yet, (Y/N)'s children looked more like the dragons than her owns.

Her eyes studied her sister from far, observing the clear contrast they had started to have, unlike their youth. While Rhaenyra's waist had thickened after bearing her children, (Y/N)'s seem to be intact.

The few differences in (Y/N)'s looks were the length of her silver hair, which had grown significantly from the time she last saw her. Her skin seemed to glow in the sunshine brighter than it did before. And the size of her bosom; they had grown due to motherhood.

Rhaenyra was aware about her husband's relation with her sister, something she never felt envious about until the very moment she saw him eying her with longing in his eyes.

Daemon stood quietly in the side, watching as his once dear lover smiled at her children. Children he had not fathered.

He hated Viserys for sending her off to the North, to marry a Lord who couldn't treat her as she deserved to be and yet, here he stood, looking at her with an ache in his heart as she looked happy.

He could see the way Rhaenyra's gaze stop at (Y/N)'s figure. While motherhood blessed the younger sister with beauty of heaven; something she already possessed when she was married off, Rhaenyra's had neither increased nor decreased.

He could sense the envy of Rhaenyra as she looked at him. But he couldn't help himself, he couldn't stop gazing at her and regretted shouting at her that fateful night when everything changed.

(Y/N) sat in her chambers, braiding her silver hair as she prepared to sleep. A low humming echoed around the room as (Y/N) sang to herself a tune she heard from a feast.

Just then, did the silence ended when the doors to her chambers opened and a drunk Daemon stumbled in, speaking to himself about something she couldn't hear.

"Kepus, you are drunk," she stated, as she stood up, helping him to her bed, closing the door quickly. "No, I am angry," Daemon hissed, his eyes bloodshot as he looked in the eyes of his niece.

(Y/N) frowned, placing a hand on his cheek to make him look at her. "Is everything alright?" She asked with concern in her voice to which Daemon laughed bitterly. "Iksan se drēje dārilaros naejot se dēmalion! iksan, daor aōha mandia!" (I am the rightful heir to the throne! I am, not your sister!" Daemon exclaimed, making the princess flinch.

He grabbed her hair, forcing her to sit on her knees in front of his as he hissed on her face, "Istin sagon va se dēmalion daor mirri dārōñe dārilaros qilōni kostagon daor gaomagon mirros." (I must be on the throne not some royal princess who can't do anything.)

"Where were you, Daemon?" (Y/N) asked with tears in her eyes as she watched Daemon stood up and make his way to the window. "Lēda aōha līve mandia, ñuha jorrāelagon," (With your whore sister, my love) Daemon stated calmly, as if it was no big deal.

"I wonder what will my brother do when he comes to know that zȳhon riñi issi līve," (his girls are whores) Daemon chuckled darkly as he turned around with a mocking smile. "One is willing to bed me, while the other-" he walked towards (Y/N), gripping her jaw in his hand.

"Warms my bed every other day."

The sky was of hues of purple, yellow and red; a beautiful combination as the setting sun peaked out of the horizon. The sea water a mirror of the sky, with glittering diamonds above the waves which came and went.

(Y/N) stood on a cliff, her silver hair was out of her braids, freed and blowing with the breeze. Her black and red dress damced around her feet. Her eyes closed as she felt the air caressing her.

"Zaldrītsos," (Little dragon) came a voice which took away all the peace she felt, leaving her with only a broken heart. "Skoros gaomagon jaelā?" (What do you want?) She hissed, turning around.

When no answer came, she continued in a bitter tone, "Iā līve naejot bāne ao? īlen ivestretan ēdā iā ābrazȳrys syt bona." (A whore to warm you? I was told you had a wife for that.)

"I apologize for my words, (Y/N)" Daemon said, his eyes filling with tears as he let his head hang low in shame. It was the dragon princess' turn to laugh, though tears stinged in her eyes. "Apologize? What for now, uncle?"

"Īlen iā mittys naejot pendagon bona ao jorrāelatan nyke, yn daor, ao mērī jorrāelatan nyke syt ñuha jaelagon naejot gaomagon gaomilaksir hen iā ābrazȳrys." (I was a fool to think that you loved me, but no, you only loved me for my wish to do duty of a wife.)

At last, a tear escaped the Rogue Prince's eyes as he let the truth in her words sank in. He walked to her, kneeling down as he cried silently. "You are right," he only whispered, surprising the dragon princess who stood speechless.

"I was only a selfish man who wanted the throne and nothing else. I was a fool not to see who loved me or not," he admitted as (Y/N) knelt next to him, letting him cry on her shoulder.

"It is too late now to regret, Daemon," she whispered as she let her lips hover over his cheek. "We have families to look for, duties to uphold," she continued, as her own tears escaped.

Daemon's grip on her waist tightened as he heard her words. "Let's run away," he whispered into the crook of her neck, catching (Y/N) off guard. "We can't just leave, Daemon," she said sadly.

"What of our children?" She asked, gripping his bicep as she looked at him, expecting no answer. Daemon could only sigh, his eyes heavy as he placed his head on her shoulder as slowly, tears gathered in all the years without her came out.

Both (Y/N) and Daemon knew none of their wishes could come true, as what was done is done and the future is set already...

#house targaryen #hotd imagine #house of the dragon #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon x reader #daemon x y/n #daemon targeryan #daemon au #cregan x targayen #daemon targeryen x reader

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nelkcats · 1 year

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Copycats and burgers

When Valerie got a college scholarship she thought it was time to leave Amity, move out of town, take a break, and live a normal life. It would be a peaceful paradise without G.I.W, Vlad, and most of all no more Phantom!

Although she didn't have much knowledge of the new town since Amity was quite isolated she supposed it couldn't be that bad. She applied for a normal job, similar to her previous, "Batburger" and everything went perfectly for about 3 hours.

On the fourth hour of work she saw a family of vigilantes entering and seriously, that didn't bode well. Why were the vigilantes always the ones who ate at her work!? They were going to destroy the restaurant! And why did that kid have a katana!? She remained silent but was seconds away from taking her suit off and leading them out of the establishment.

Valerie tried to calm down and returned to her work the next day. Unfortunately the Karen in town decided to go overboard and when she offered him Jokerized fries he gave her a great speech about how bad the Joker was and how it was a crime to offer him fries. Valerie looked at him like she looked at any Karen in Nasty's and just said "Are you going to want Jokerized fries or not sir?"

The man seemed stunned by her attitude and ordered normal fries. It was obvious he was a millionaire because no one travels with a butler and tips her that much but Valerie didn't comment on it, she didn't want a Vlad situation again. When her manager asked how she didn't know about the Joker, she shrugged.

She was explained that the Joker was bad news and a clown, she asked if he used mind control and when they replied that he didn't she just brushed the whole thing off. Gotham was too similar to Amity, though opposite in many ways, and she needed to keep her sanity intact.

Though when she saw Ivy destroying her workplace she wanted to go home, just a little.

#dp x dc crossover #dp x dc prompt #dpxdc #It's worse when she saw all the similarities #If she heard about Oracle #or about a rouge similar to her old friends #Like Ivy with Sam #Or Riddle with Wes #Bad versions of her frienemies #at least there is not a Phantom but #who is that guy called Red Hood #it's almost her same name #Valerie is missing Amity #dc x dp #dp x dc #Valerie misses ghost #you can punch ghost without worrying on the force you are using #they are not going to die again #She is still thinking if go as Red Huntress or staying normal

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dr-spencer-reids-queen · 5 months

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Spencer's Choice: Part Two

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.8k

Warnings: fluff at the end, angst, mentions of cheating

Summary: Spencer has a choice to make: stay with his wife and make his marriage work or follow the love of his life across the world. One keeps his family intact and the other is where his heart belongs. What will he choose?

PART ONE

Square Filled: interacting with children for @spencerreidbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

Spencer stares at the door you walked through for what seems like hours. Even after the plane has left, he’s still stuck in the same spot. He only moves when another flight comes in and a swarm of people leaves through the bridge. He did what he swore he’d never do again: he let you walk away. He’s brought back to the first time he’s made the mistake, the time he lost a part of him. You had his heart and took some of it when you left.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” Spencer says with tears in his eyes.

“You know I love you, right? I love you so much.”

“That doesn’t make it hurt any less. Are you sure I can’t convince you to stay?”

“We’re headed in two different directions, Spence. You have an amazing FBI program here that needs someone like you. London is calling to me. I wish it could be different but it isn’t.”

Spencer nods and looks down at the ground because if he sees you walk off, then he’ll cry and never stop. You want to go to him and kiss him and tell him everything is going to be alright but you know if you do, you’ll stay. This sucks but this is how it has to be.

“Last call for Flight 267 inbound to London,” the announcer says over the intercom.

“I have to go,” you whisper.

Spencer looks up and watches you get on the plane.

That decision has haunted him ever since he made it. No, he can’t make the same mistake again. He can’t let you two continue on two separate paths. He has to go after you. He knows the city you’re traveling to, so all he has to do is buy another ticket for the next flight and be on his way.

The only thing that’s stopping him is his daughter. Not his wife. His daughter. His marriage has been over for a while even though he and his wife don’t want to admit it. They only stay together because of Marissa. Coming home after a long day, especially when Marissa is spending the night at a friend’s house, seems like a chore. He chooses hours that conflict with hers so that he doesn’t have to see her as much. Being in a relationship shouldn’t be this way. It should be freeing, loving, and exciting. What he had with you is completely different than what he has with his wife.

He takes the scenic route on his way home and parks in the driveway. He sits there for thirty minutes just thinking about his situation. His wife went to work late which is why he was able to meet you for coffee this morning. She must have called the babysitter when she got called in. He doesn’t want to keep her too long so he goes inside even though he dreads it.

“You’re home early, Mr. Reid,” the babysitter smiles.

“Yeah, I got a few things finished early.”

“Well, Marissa and I went to the state zoo. She had a lot of fun at the petting zoo.”

“Here, let me pay you back for that.”

“No need. We had tons of fun.”

“Thank you,” he nods.

He pays her and she leaves. Marissa bounces over to him with a smile, and he scoops her up so they can have some father-daughter time. He sits her on the kitchen counter as he grabs some ingredients to make them both a snack.

“Why do you look so sad, Daddy?”

He hates that she can see how sad he is.

“I don’t know,” he lies.

“Where’s the nice lady who gave me Teddy back?”

“Uh, she got on a plane. She left.”

“Is that why you’re so sad?”

Spencer chuckles and looks at her in amusement.

“You’re very smart for your age.”

“I did get an A plus on my spelling homework,” she grins with her two front teeth missing.

“I am so proud of you,” Spencer smiles and kisses her head. “Why don’t you go play in your room for a bit while I finish making us some snacks.”

“Okay.”

He sets her down on the ground and watches her run off. The smile on his face is lost as he continues making the snack, this time, much slower. His mind has been filled with nothing but you ever since you arrived two days ago. He wishes he could be in your arms right now. Why did you have to show up now? He was doing fine before. At least before, he could pretend you were dead or something. No, he has to go to you. He has to tell you… what? What would he tell you? He doesn't know but he knows he has to do it.

He waits for his wife to get home before he can go out. She noisily slaps her keys onto the hook by the door and walks into the kitchen. He can immediately smell the stench of sex and another man’s cologne. Maybe she did get called into work early but she didn’t come home right after it.

“Where have you been?”

“Out with the girls.”

She’s lying but he doesn’t have the energy to care.

“I have to go to work. Marissa is in her room.”

He leaves the house without waiting for her response. He heads into work knowing they didn’t call him in. He just needs to get away and talk to someone so they can tell him what to do. When he walks into the bullpen, Penelope and JJ are gossiping like schoolgirls.

“Spencer! Hey!” Penelope smiles when she sees him. Both girls see the distressed look on his face. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m pretty sure my wife is cheating on me, and I thought the love of my life was dead until she showed up two days ago. She got on a plane and left.”

“Come to my office,” Penelope says. Both girls lead Spencer to Pen’s office, and she closes the door behind them. “Okay, start from the beginning.”

“Y/N was my high school sweetheart. We dated all four years of high school. I was gonna marry her until she got a scholarship to a college in London for architecture. That’s her dream. She’s always wanted to be an architect. I couldn’t stop her from pursuing her dream. I had just got accepted into the FBI academy and had to stay here. We broke up but it wasn’t because we stopped loving each other.

“It's been so long since I’ve seen her, I thought she was dead. It was easier to think that. Then, she showed up at my front door holding Marissa’s teddy bear. Everything I felt about her came back. I’m still in love with her. She left because she didn’t want to ruin what I have with my wife, but my marriage has been over for a while. We only stay with each other for Marissa.

“What do I do?” Spencer finishes with a broken look in his eyes.

“If your wife got on a plane at the same time as Y/N, who would you go after?” JJ asks.

Spencer opens his mouth to answer but he stops himself. He knows who he’ll pick, but if he says it out loud, then it becomes real. So, he closes his mouth and lowers his head in shame.

“I know you have a daughter who loves you, but staying with a woman who is hurting you will only hurt her,” Penelope says. “You should go after Y/N.”

Spencer still looks unsure so Pen turns around in her chair and fires up her computer. She spends two minutes on the computer before showing him. It’s your flight information. He knows where you’re going. It’s not an exact location, but he’ll be able to figure it out once he gets there.

“Why don’t I feel guilty about this? I’m married.”

“Life is short,” JJ says. “If you love her, you have to tell her. There is a very real thing called ‘right person, wrong time’. She’s your person.”

“What about Marissa?”

“I can watch her. She loves Henry. I can head over there after work.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t tell anyone, but I already got you a plane ticket. FBI-certified, of course.”

“Thanks.”

Spencer gets himself ready to go after you. He meant what he said before. He let you go once. He’s not making that mistake again. You arrive in Ukraine where your biggest project is waiting for you. The plan was supposed to be your partners would get everything set up and you’d join them a few months later. Now you’re here to start the planning process with them.

The project will be to make housing for people, shelters to house those who can’t afford housing, and food banks for everyone. You already have people lining up to donate food for people so you need to get started as soon as possible.

After grabbing the necessary PPE to get onto your construction site, you meet with the foremen who are in the trailer to discuss the plan.

“Hey,” you say.

“What are you doing here? I didn’t expect you for a couple of months.”

“I needed to get away. Leaving you guys wasn’t a good decision for me. I’m ready to work.”

The foundations of some of the buildings are already laid down, and the construction crew is working endlessly to build what you and your partners came up with. The minutes turn to hours which turn to days but Spencer is still on your mind. You don’t think you’ll be very productive when all you can think about is your long-lost love. You’re pouring over the blueprints of the food bank you’re building when one of the foremen comes in.

“Boss, there’s someone here to see you.”

“What?” you ask and look up. Who the hell would be looking for you here? “Who?”

“What’s your name?” the foreman asks someone down the hall before turning to you. “Spencer Reid.”

Your entire body freezes up.

“What?” Spencer walks in seconds later looking disheveled after a long plane ride. He walks over to you so he’s a foot away from you. “What are you doing here?”

“I might be crazy for this and I definitely haven’t thought this through, but you’re the love of my life. I love you so much.”

“You’re married.”

“To a woman who cheats on me four times a week.”

“What about Marissa?”

“I can’t stay in a relationship with her mother knowing we don’t love each other. It won’t end well for her. I have loved you the minute I met you and I haven’t stopped, not even after you left. I made the mistake of letting you walk away once. I won’t do it again.”

“Spencer,” you whisper tearfully.

“Don’t think,” he takes a step forward. “Not today.”

He grabs your cheeks and pulls you in to kiss you. Every emotion you have buried deep inside comes rushing to the surface. You don’t know what tomorrow will bring or where you’re going to go from here, but the only thing that matters is Spencer. Your heart is happy and that’s all you care about.

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

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asherthehimbo · 7 months

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Older brother Hongjoong comforting you after a nightmare

notes: Nothing abt reader is specified, reader is adopted, age 15/16

warnings: mentions of nightmares, reader has traumatic experiences with their old family, reader has some sort of trauma regarding an older brother, meantion of panic/ anxiety attacks, sh kind of? reader scrathes their neck during a panic attack, not a warning, but the reader has an attachment to a stuffy, Hongjoongs kind of feels guilt, the reader being uncomfortable being acknowledged/ thanked for gifts

His parents had adopted you about a year before he debuted with Ateez. You were 9 at the time, and he remembers his mother calling him to tell him the news. You had been the kid of an old high school friend of hers who died a while ago, and recently something happened that caused you to be taken away from your family.

Hongjoong didn't pry. His mother clearly didn't want to talk about it. He guessed you would tell him when the time was right. Only now, it's six years later, and Hongjoong still doesn't know the full story. What he does know is that if he ever runs into your biological big brother, his career as an idol won't still be intact after what he'd do to that man.

Hongjoong had first met you 2 months after his parents took you in. He had been living at the dorms, and since his group would debut soon, he was quite busy. The members had all been given time off, and he was very nervous to meet you. Of Course he's seen pictures, he gets updates from his mom once every week, but he's never actually spoken with you except for the video call where you were sat with his mother as she talked about all the happenings at the time.

Hongjoong didn't know how to interact with children, especially nine year olds who were clearly traumatized. He decided that the best course of action was to give you a plushie upon your first meeting. It hadn't been anything special, a black, grey and white bunny, according to his mother you liked darker colors, hated anything too bright.

Ever since he gifted it to you, Hongjoong doesn't think he's seen you anywhere without it. Even at the age of 15, you take it with you everywhere, and Hongjoong finds it adorable. Pictures posted on your friends' social media accounts (you refuse to post anything yourself, and Hongjoong needs some way to keep himself updated on your life, so he follows the two close friends you have), the dinner table, when your family goes to get him at the airport. The stuffie is always with you, hidden or in plain sight. It's always there. According to his mother, you had named it Topaz. He cried when she told him.

You didn't talk to Hongjoong, from what he knows you don't talk much at all, you're homeschooled and have two friends, at first he was worried you may have some sort of speech impediment, until his mother told him that you were just a very quiet kid, even at the age of nine. For two years, the only words he would ever hear from you were soft greetings or thank you's when he did something for you. The part that broke his heart was the fact that he's heard you apologize more than anything else, even for things you couldn't control.

You were 12 when he realized the extent of what your previous family had done to you. He had been home after a comeback, and there was a soft knock at his door right before he went to bed. When he opened his door, nobody was there but looking down he found a letter and a tiny keychain replica of the bunny stuffie he gifted you. The letter was short and simple, congratulating him on the success of their recent comeback, and an apology that you couldn't vocally express the excitement you felt for him.

He had gone to your room after he received the gifts and knocked on your door, letter in hand. He wanted to have a conversation with you, wanted to become closer. When you opened the door, you looked so frightened. There were tear marks on your cheeks, eyes wildly analyzing his frame as if he was some sort of threat. He brought his hand up to try and get your attention, opened his mouth to speak but before he could you had screamed.

It was such a terrible sound. You had fallen to the floor, scratching your neck, hyperventilating, and you muttered out apologies and begged him not to hurt you. He didn't know what to do. Luckily, his father did. The man had sent Hongjoong to his mother and guided you deeper into your room before closing the door.

Hongjoongs mother had, through tears, explained to him that when you got like this, when you had your panic attacks, his father was the only one allowed around you, he knew how to calm you down. When Hongjoong explained what happened, she had told him you don't like being thanked for a gift. You had a fear that you would be punished if the gift wasn't good enough. His mother had worked out a system and gave you a star sticker every time you did something for them. You seemed to enjoy that.

She had told Hongjoong that the keychain he received was one you made yourself, led him to a room that he recognized as your study, where you would usually take classes, showed him all the art materials you had, from paint, to fabric, to beads for jewelry. She told him that when you heard Hongjoong liked art forms, you had become interested as well and found your passion for it along the way. She also showed him pictures she took of you working late into the night to make this keychain for him. She showed him all the previous attempts that you threw away because they weren't good enough. He had no idea you put in all this effort for him, only for him to be the cause of your panic attack, and that broke him completely.

"[Name]'s been through a lot. They're quiet because there was a time they needed to be. They admire you more than you know Joong, but they're too scared to show it. Scared that you will laugh at them. Its hard, but you have to let them come to you. Let them acknowledge you first."

Hongjoong did exactly that. Your gifts had started to become more frequent after the incident, a letter of a creation you made given to him every time he came home. He had boxes he kept them in. He would also take photos of them, write the date at the back of the printed out polaroid, and put the photos in a binder. He takes the box and binder with him to the dorms every time he goes back so that he can remember you.

He figured out a system of his own, much like his mothers star sticker, he started giving you bunny stickers, different expressions and sizes of the animal would be left at your door every time you gifted him something.

He remembers the morning after he had first given you one you had walked into the living room and sat next to him with a smile on your face. It was probably the happiest he'd ever seen you be.

You two had settled into this routine. You never got too close to him, always being next to him but making sure to leave space between you. He was fine with that, never the most physically affectionate person.

All of this was what made the moment that you finally asked him for help so much more precious. It had been late, Hongjoong was visiting home, it was about twelve pm he was cooped up in his room working on an idea he had for a track until he heard a knock at the door.

That was weird, you had already given him something this visit, nevertheless he waited a few moments, to allow you to go back to your room as you always did, before walking to the door to open it. Only instead of looking down at a creation you had made, he looks at you.

You're looking at him with glossy eyes, red and puffy showing that you were crying. You were shaking, clutching onto Topaz for dear life. Hongjoong didn't know what to do. You both just stood there until he slowly reached out his hand to pet your head. He didn't miss the way you flinched, but he relished in the way you melted into his touch.

"Can I sit with you while you work?" Your voice is cracked, clear signs that you had been crying a lot longer than he thought. He turned around and walked into his room, motioning for you to follow. You grabbed his hand, and Hongjoong swore his heart would beat out of his chest.

He knew this wasn't the right time. Something was very clearly bothering you, but his little sibling is actually seeking him out for something. His little sibling is holding his hand!

He had sat down by his desk, pulling up another chair for you. You had sat down in silence next to him, clutching Topaz and watching as he explained what he was doing to calm you down. It worked. Soon enough, the fear you had felt earlier had lessened. You were safe with Hongjoong. He was kind.

"Oh, are you sleepy? it is 2 am already, we should probably get you to bed" You didn't want to go, he was safe, you didn't wanna leave the safe space, but you wouldn't push to stay here. You never pushed for anything you wanted. It only ended in hurt.

Hongjoong was observent, though. He noticed your hesitance. "Hey, you know, walking all the way down the hallway to your room is gonna take soooooo long. Why don't you just sleep here? we can have like a fun little sleepover?"

You knew Hongjoong was lying. Your room was barely 5 feet away from his own, but you wanted to stay here with him. You nodded your head in agreement before he led you to the bed. "Do you wanna talk about it? Why you're here?" Hongjoong questioned through the dark.

"Had a bad dream. Safe brother got taken away by the bad one. I wanted to make sure you were still here." You mumbled sleepily, curling up to Hongjoongs' side, clutching his arm instead of Topaz. "Brother is safe, good. Don't want him to take you away."

Those were the last words you said before dozing off. You called him brother, for the first time in 6 years you called him brother and Hongjoong could feel the water well in his eyes. You called him safe. You felt safe with him. While he didn't know who you were referring to that would take him away, he would make sure it never happened.

"Brother is here, I'm not going anywhere. I'll be by your side forever. I'll protect you from the bad one"

notes: wrote this cause ive been having nightmares and missing my older sibling lately, it was supossed to be headcannons for all the members, but Hongjoong's part ran so long I decided to just leave it as is, might make another one with another member. Feedback is appreciated!

@diverseinsertknet

#ateez fluff #ateez au #ateez fic #ateez imagines #ateez fanfic #ateez x gn!reader #older brother!Hongjoong #Ateez Hongjoong #Kim Hongjoong #little sibling reader #child!reader

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galactic-magick · 11 months

Text

You’re Not Scary, Johnny: The Spot x Reader

Summary: What if Spot’s family didn’t leave him after the accident? In other words, Jonathan had a spouse and baby daughter and goes to see them for the first time since becoming The Spot.

Words: 1.8k+

Warnings: Some swearing and vague mentions of suicidal thoughts

Author’s Notes: The baby daughter is not specified to be biological or adopted bc I wanted to keep the reader gender-neutral! Also thanks to Julia from The Spot discord server I’m in for suggesting the name Dottie! (haha get it like spot and dot)

Jonathan wasn’t one to immediately give up on anything.

After all, he was one of the top scientists working on Alchemax’s toughest project, full of initial failures and screw-ups. He had numerous opportunities to quit during his lengthy years of schooling and career, but he never did. He was always incredibly self-driven, and having a family in edition to that motivated him to succeed even more. He married you—the most wonderful person in the universe to him, and had a beautiful daughter named Dottie he couldn’t wait to raise with you.

That is, until he woke up on the Alchemax floor that dreadful day, surrounded by debris from the destroyed collider.

He remembers seeing his hands first, ghost white with a couple black spots on each. But they weren’t like a bruise or mole that stayed it place—they were fluctuating and pulsing like dark matter. Convinced he was just seeing things, he tried to rub his eyes, only to feel nothing and instead see his fingers come out through a hole on his leg.

He screamed in terror, pushing his gangly body off the ground and stumbling towards the nearest reflective surface he could find.

“No, no, no-” his voice shook, looking at himself for the first time.

He turns away, too horrified to look any longer. He couldn’t go home to you like this, let alone live any sort of life at all like this. He scans his gaze over the rubble, running to the first intact thing he sees. “I can- I can fix this. There has to be a way to fix this!”

Jonathan wasn’t one to immediately give up on anything.

He got to work searching for anything salvageable from the labs and collider, theorizing and writing equations and running tests for weeks, not that he realized it had been that long. His mind bordered on madness, obsessing over every single detail that could possibly fix him.

“I have to fix this, I have to fix this…” he muttered to himself over and over, voice cracking. Every test and experiment failed day after day, nothing worked. He didn’t want to give up, but maybe this was something not even his genius intellect could fix.

Jonathan wasn’t one to immediately give up on anything—but now he had to.

He slumped onto the floor, wailing into the void of the abandoned building. He screamed and cried as much as he could without having tears, begging to anyone who could hear to be put out of his misery.

His face fell to his hands, or at least what was left of one. His thoughts returned to you, with your sweet eyes and smile he adored so much and the heartwarming memories you’ve shared over the years. You’re his everything, his other half, and everything he’s ever wanted. He thought about holding your daughter for the first time, wanting to give her the world and more.

He couldn’t go back to you like this. He couldn’t even look at himself, so why would you? His daughter would surely be afraid of him and he’d lose everyone he loved in an instant. He couldn’t put himself through that, he just couldn’t. You probably think he’s already dead, might as well let you remember him as he was.

You never thought you’d have to deal with being a single parent. You and Jonathan have an incredibly healthy relationship and marriage, so you figured you’d be together forever. You never thought you’d have the unthinkable happen to you, having to go on after the death of a husband.

Each day gets harder and harder, and everything that was fine or even good before becomes a struggle. You know pretty soon your emergency savings will run out and paying rent will be a problem, and you’ll have to start picking up overtime at work and have to spend less time with the baby. You’re more alone than you’ve ever been in your life, and you still don’t even know for sure what happened.

No one dares stand up to Alchemax, not even after a disaster like this. You had asked Jonathan multiple times to consider somewhere better to work, but he assured you it was the only place he could do the full extent of his work, which you understood. Still, if he had left this wouldn’t have happened to him.

He wouldn’t be dead.

All you want to know is how he died. Was it painful? Was it quick? Was it peaceful?

Every night you lie awake, the questions racing through your mind. Most days you’re thankful that Dottie is not a fussy baby, but sometimes you wish she was so you’d at least have something to distract you.

It’s been a few months since the accident, and Jonathan is still crippled with fear. He refuses to look at himself, covering himself with layers of clothing to get around the city and avoid seeing his own skin. He tries to keep ignoring the voice in the back of his mind telling him to go home, muffling it with the anxiety of being seen by the one person who could completely shatter his soul.

But if he did go to see you, at least he’d finally know. He wouldn’t be left wondering his whole life what you’d say and how you’d react. He might not have the both literal and metaphorical hole in his heart aching for closure forever.

He knows you’re usually home by the hour, the baby probably down for a nap while you have some free-time. He approaches the door of your shared apartment, hand hovering next to the door. He knocks quietly, and hears you shuffling towards it.

“Who is it?” your voice is like honey, and his heart wrenches.

“Please don’t—please don’t freak out, okay darling? It’s Jonathan,”

The door swings open faster than he thought possible, and you fling yourself into him.

“Holy shit I thought you were dead, I-” you sob into his chest, your tears blurring your vision enough that you can’t see him clearly. “They said—they said everyone in the building died from that explosion-”

You pull away slightly, looking him up and down.

“Why do you have so many layers on? It’s super warm out,” you reach up to pull off the mask and glasses over his face, but he stops you.

“There’s something you need to know before you do that,” he says. “I survived, yes, but not without enormous cost. The explosion left me severely deformed,”

You try to fight his grip on your hand, attempting to reach up again, “Johnny, you know I will still love you no matter what. Please just let me see you-”

“No.”

A wave of deep concern washes over your features, “What happened?”

“I-I tried to fix it, but it can’t be fixed. I’m a monster now, I don’t even look human anymore. Somehow my body fused with a black hole I was carrying during the explosion, and now that’s all I am...just holes,”

You do your best to take in and process his words, but you know you won’t truly understand until you see it for yourself.

“I’m going to look at you, okay?” you tell him sternly.

He sighs in surrender, awaiting the inevitable. You start by taking off his gloves, interlocking your fingers with his white ones. He hums at your touch.

“I’m still here, Johnny,” you assure him. Next you unzip and slip off his jacket, revealing his torso and arms covered in black spots. It’s certainly strange, you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t, but it doesn’t scare you. The spots look like splotches on an artistic painting, and you already love them.

You decide to wait to take off his pants and shoes, and instead bring your hands to his head. You remove his hat, smoothing your palms over his completely white and bald head. Of course you loved his gorgeous hair before, but you’ll get used to this.

You hesitate your fingers around his face, waiting for a sign of approval.

Jonathan nods, but he grabs your hands once again, “Darling, I literally don’t have a face anymore. You’re not going to see what you want to see,”

“I don’t care. I want you no matter what,”

You rip off his mask and glasses in one go, met with a deep black hole staring back at you.

He sighs again, turning away from your gaze, “I understand if you don’t want to be with me anymore. You don’t deserve a life married to someone like me,”

“Johnathan,” you scold him. “When I married you I promised to love you no matter what. For better and for worse and all that shit, okay? Sure this will be an adjustment, but I want to adjust with you. I’m just happy you’re alive,”

You watch as his face spot fluctuates in size and shape, and you decide to interpret that as his new way of expressing emotions. You appear to be right, because he quickly pulls you into a tight embrace and whimpers into your shoulder.

“I’ve missed you so much,” he mumbles, his body shaking as he holds you closer and closer, to the point you feel yourself going through a couple of his spots. “But what about Dottie? She’ll cry every time she sees me,”

“You don’t know that,” you say, rubbing his back, tracing your fingers around one of his spots. “Her first word was ‘Dada’ you know. I talked about you a lot to her while you were gone,”

“Really?”

“Mmhm. She can crawl now too. I’ll go get her from her crib, this is usually around the time she wakes up anyway,”

Jonathan slowly releases his grip as you slip out of his arms, bracing himself for whatever might happen. He looks like something from a horror movie, of course she’s going to be afraid. He may have lucked out with you wanting to stay with him, but there’s no promises his daughter will feel the same.

You come out of the bedroom holding her, a bit bigger than the last time he saw her. You place her gently on the floor so she can crawl around, and she doesn’t even seem to notice Jonathan at first, more interested in the toy next to her. She grabs it and sits upright, and then finally sees him.

To Jonathan’s surprise, she doesn’t seem phased by his appearance. She simply cocks her head slightly to the side and stares at him.

“Dada!” she finally babbles, giggling to herself.

“She...she recognizes me?” he asks, in awe of her cute little face.

She continues to giggle, repeating his name over and over. She rolls forward onto her hands and starts crawling towards him, grabbing onto his leg. Jonathan leans down to pick her up, and she flails around happily, settling into his arms and poking her hands into his holes on his face and chest.

“How is she not scared of me?” he says, completely dumbfounded.

“Because you’re not scary, Johnny,” you smile, wrapping your arms around the two of them and kissing his cheek. “You’re family. Spots or not,”

Dottie squeals as if in agreement.

“I suppose so,” he hums, resting his head on top of yours.

Jonathan would never give this up for anything.

#the spot x reader #johnathan ohnn x reader #the spot #johnathan ohnn #across the spiderverse #spiderverse

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