#it was bc it had rained the day before and the ground was nice n mushy
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do you believe me now? | 3
in which spencer reid spends a rainy day teaching inexperienced fem!reader how to touch him. of course, her efforts don't go unrecognized, much less unrewarded
part one | part two
18+ (smut)
warnings: inexperienced reader, softdom!spencer, sub reader, oral m receiving, reader swallows lol, a truly sickening amount of praise, like really, you JOKINGLY refer to each other as dirty sluts, r has longish hair, spit mentioned once, thigh riding (moans loudly), its filthy idk what to tell you, i feel like i've crossed the desert on foot i don't even know what else is in here, your honor they're in love, i take you to dinner first, this part is stupidly long
a/n: had a fucking field day the three separate times i had to rewrite this el oh el... but think i like how it turned out?! anyway, if u like this PLS lmk bc writing it took a small piece of my soul, and yes there will be a part four!! take care of yourselves!! i love you!!!
You give Spencer half a minute or so before knocking on his door for a second time.
It’s miserable outside, and though the hallway you’re standing in now isn’t terribly cold, you’d much prefer to be in Spencer’s apartment, where it will be the same toasty 68.5 degrees as always. Not that the heating will magically dry you. And not that you’ll be there for long, if the date you’d scheduled last week goes on as planned.
You’re getting worried, about to knock for a third time when the locks finally click and the door opens to reveal a disheveled Spencer Reid—not at all looking ready for a date. You take in his ensemble; blue checked pajama pants, FBI Academy crewneck, the usual questionably paired socks. He’s rubbing his droopy eyes, which slowly widen as he notices your attire.
“Shit, I’m sorry, our date! I mean—you look really nice. I look… like this. Why don’t you come in while I get ready to go?”
He holds the door open a little wider and you step through, relishing in the familiar warmth as you pull your hood down and excess water droplets spatter on the ground.
“When did you get in?” you ask, hanging your raincoat up on a hook. You know he’d wrapped up a case yesterday evening, but you’d gone to sleep before the team left Cincinnati.
Spencer pauses in the middle of the room, staring at the antique flooring like he forgot what he was doing.
“Uh… four hours ago.”
“Wh—four hours? Spencer, you must be exhausted.”
He laughs awkwardly, running a tired hand over his face.
“I mean… I’ve definitely felt better.”
You kick your soaked shoes off and cross the room until you’re toe to toe with him. Immediately his hands settle on your waist and yours find his arms. His eyes are kind, and he’s clearly pleased by your presence despite his lack of energy.
“The weather’s terrible, anyway. Let’s just go out another day.”
His features have softened and you can see how tired he truly is—not just in his bleary eyes, but the way his fingers grasp weakly to you, the way his head bows slightly. It seems bone-deep.
“But I haven’t seen you in a week. I don’t want you to go home.”
Your lips twist. A clap of thunder rolls in the distance and the rain starts coming down even harder against the windowpanes.
“We could hang out here. We can take a nap!”
Spencer sighs—half resignation, half disappointment.
“But we made such good plans,” he laments.
You kiss his cheek.
“Plans that can be rescheduled. The bookstore will still be there next weekend.”
It takes him a moment to settle into the idea, but you watch the exhaustion win.
“Okay. But no nap. I want to be awake for you. Coffee?”
You nod enthusiastically, beaming at the prospect of getting to spend the day doing nothing with him. Spencer mirrors your grin, before pressing a kiss to your head.
“You’re so cute.” Heat creeps into your cheeks and you can’t think of a satisfactory reply, but in the end you don’t need to, as he tugs gently on your hands. “C’mon. Tell me what mug you want.”
The kitchen counter bites into your palms as you lean with your back to it, watching Spencer putter all around the kitchen as he works on the coffee. It makes you tired just to watch.
“Are you sure you don’t want to take a nap? Caffeine isn’t a substitute for sleep, you know.”
“I do know,” he agrees, measuring coffee grounds. “But other than last night, I actually slept fairly well this week.”
“You seem exhausted.”
“I… am tired in lots of ways. Not all of which can be resolved with more sleep.” he admits.
Your heart drops ever so slightly at the way his voice weakens as he looks through the fridge. Sometimes you remember there are still things you don’t know about him—sides you haven’t met. His work side is one of them, and it more than a little intimidates you.
“Bad case?” you ask, voice quiet and crackling with nervous energy.
Spencer nods, approaching and setting a carton of milk on the counter behind you—caging you in with his arms in the process. It’s hard to find the words when he’s this close, but you manage to stumble through them.
“Do… do you wanna talk about it?”
Spencer hums, tilting his head before gently saying, “not right now. But thank you for offering, lovely.”
“Okay, well—if you change your mind… if there’s anything I can do to make you feel better…”
Finally he stops with the teasing—the unabashed staring at your lips, the faux-attentive nods—and drops his head to your level to kiss you properly. It’s obviously an attempt to get you to shut up, you’re not dumb enough so as to miss that—but you don’t really care why he’s doing it so long as he does it at all.
“I feel pretty great right now, actually,” he murmurs against your lips, a hint of a smile coloring his words. “Do you want sugar in yours?”
“Um…”
Your eyes dart helplessly between his as he pulls away and you struggle to un-fluster yourself enough to answer his simple question. Spencer seems to delight in this. The longer it takes you, the bigger his perfect smile gets.
“You took too long. You’re getting sugar.”
“Are you sure there’s nothing I can do?” you plead later on the couch, for the third or fourth time, setting your mostly-empty mug on the coffee table.
His eyebrows raise.
“I’m sure, honey.”
“But I want to help,” you pout, pulling your knees into your chest. Spencer regards you for a moment from the other end of the couch, before beckoning you closer wordlessly.
“You are helping,” he assures you, gently grabbing your wrist as you crawl into his lap. He rubs soothing circles into the delicate skin with his thumb. “You being here and being you is plenty.”
It’s the closest you’ve been to him since before he left, and while you’ve all but given up on asking him to sleep with you, it doesn’t mean you don’t think about it multiple times per day. It’s especially difficult to keep your thoughts PG when you haven’t seen him in a week, and his hair is all messy, and he’s got his pajamas on, and you’re in his lap, and he’s looking at you like that.
“What are you thinking about?” Spencer murmurs, likely concerned by your lack of response and the glazed-over look in your eyes. You reanimate, averting your gaze to the spot on your thigh he’s now rubbing absentmindedly.
“Nothing. I just missed you.”
“I missed you a lot, too.” You don’t even have to look up to know that his brows have twisted into a pleasant sort of bemusement, like you are a particularly complex puzzle—you can hear it as he continues speaking. “I’m still not used to having something external take up so much of my attention while I’m trying to do my job. I’ve never had that before. Not something good, anyway. It’s like every time I leave, I’m thinking about you more than the time before. And I was already thinking about you a lot.”
The corner of your mouth twitches as he rambles.
“Really?”
“Yeah, really,” he chuckles. “You prove to be incredibly distracting even when you’re hundreds of miles away. Do you know how many nights I almost called you before realizing it was one in the morning?”
A slow smile spreads over your face.
“Oh? Whatever could you have been calling about at one in the morning?”
You’re teasing him, and it works. He blushes adorably.
“Um… probably exactly what you’d expect. In hindsight I think it’s best that I refrained.”
“What?” You grin, incredulous, forgetting your shyness and leaning closer. “You totally should’ve. I’ve never had phone sex before. I would’ve done it.”
“No, you wouldn’t!” Spencer laughs. “It would have just been me talking to myself with you on the other line. I don’t think phone sex is really up your alley.”
“Shut up,” you laugh as your lips meet. He smiles into the kiss. Before you get too lost in it, you pull away, leaning back when he tries to follow you. “I think you’re over-complicating it. It’s just dirty talk, right? I can totally do that. It’s just, like… blah blah blah, dirty slut, something something…”
You trail off as he gives you a look. Poker faced—aside from the slightly narrowed eyes sparkling with humor.
“You want me to refer to you as a dirty slut?”
Maintaining eye contact is an uphill battle—you crack in a matter of seconds, resting your forehead against his and closing your eyes stubbornly.
“No. For all you know I want to call you a dirty slut.”
It’s a ridiculous, but he recognizes the bravado for what it is, still smiling slightly as he rubs your hips.
“Right. I apologize for assuming. But just for future reference, I don’t want to be called that, and I don’t think I’d be comfortable calling you that, either.”
“But you can call me other stuff,” you remind your boyfriend, pulling back and still not looking at him.
“Yeah? Like what?”
And just like that, you’re shy again.
“I don’t know… nice things. I like when you’re nice.”
“I like being nice to you.” It’s so sincere-sounding that you meet his gaze, examining his face. His eyes are clear and soft on you, the only source of warm light on such a grey day, as his hands keep running slow lines over your sides. “Kiss?”
And how could you ever deny him anything?
As has happened before, the kiss starts out innocent enough. And it’s not that it gets particularly heated, or anything—it’s just that it doesn’t end, and after a few moments your mouth slips open and so does his and that’swhat gets both of you worked up over a period of minutes. Pressure and heat that you’re becoming accustomed to build between your legs, and you don’t even notice that you’ve begun rocking back and forth in his lap until Spencer is attempting to still your hips with patient but assertive hands.
“Honey, that’s—slow down, sweetheart.”
Finally he gets a grip on you and you realize as soon as you stop moving that there had been friction occurring—and you’re pretty damn sure you know what you were grinding against.
Your whole body feels hot with arousal and embarrassment.
“Oh my god—I’m sorry,” you mumble, moving your hands from his shoulders to cover your face. “That was an accident, I—”
“It’s fine,” Spencer assures you, squeezing your waist gently. “I just wanted to make sure you knew what you were doing because I know we haven’t… gotten there, yet.”
A moment passes—your hands fall to the FBI stitching across his chest, studying the letters without really seeing them. You haven’t gotten there yet… but why not? Why haven’t you touched him, or even seen him? You think back to the few times he’s touched you and realize that you had been too busy with either your own insecurities or pleasure to genuinely consider how it might be affecting him. He says your name gently, drawing your attention.
“You okay?”
You nod haltingly, brow furrowed as you think.
“I—yeah. I was just realizing that I haven’t, like… touched you, yet.”
It’s silent for another long second, and you glance up, to where he’s studying you with a dissonant kind of relaxed scrutiny—a knowing confidence that probably comes with a lot more experience than you have.
“Do you want to?”
Woah.
Usually you have to beg on hands and knees and prepare a slideshow presentation before he agrees to doing anything sexual in nature. He’s never so overtly invited or initiated it before. Not that you’re complaining by any stretch of the imagination.
You nod shyly, still fiddling with the fabric of his shirt.
“If you want to, I can show you how. But it’s also absolutely okay if you don’t.”
Show you how?
Your brain is melting into sludge at the idea.
“I do,” you admit, meeting his gaze again. It’s kind, and you know he really wouldn’t be upset if you said no—but now that you’ve thought about it, you feel deeply compelled to try.
“Okay. Come here, first.” You lean forward expectantly, eyes fluttering shut as his hand finds the back of your neck and he pulls you into another soft kiss. By the time your lips separate again, your head is spinning. “We’re just trying something, okay? You’re allowed to stop whenever you feel like it. Really low stakes. Got it?”
You nod, still close enough that your noses brush as you do.
“Got it.”
He presses one more chaste kiss to your lips before pulling away and leaning back into the couch.
“Scoot back a little, angel.”
Wordlessly you do so, heart pounding with nervous excitement as he lifts his hips and slides his pajama pants down just enough to where he can comfortably pull himself out, and—
Your breath catches.
Now, you may be about as virginal as they come, but you weren’t born yesterday. You’ve seen porn, you’ve received unsolicited nudes—it is the 21st century. Yet never before have you thought to yourself; wow, that dick is the pinnacle of beauty. Perfect. Breathtaking. But there’s just no other way to describe him.
So that’s what hits you first—how unexpectedly pretty it is.
The size sinks in a quick second later.
You can’t tell with perfect accuracy how many inches he is, but you’re pretty damn sure he’s big. That’s meant to fit inside of you?
No, no—that’s a consideration for another day. Right now you need to stop staring like an idiot. You glance up at his face, and he’s sporting a cocky little half-smile which lets you know you’ve been caught. Motherfucker he’s so hot. It’s unnerving.
“Do you have something you’d like to say?” he asks politely, quite obviously containing his amusement. But you can’t summon a sufficiently sarcastic response.
Your voice comes so soft when you reply, “you’re pretty.”
Spencer melts, eyes impossibly softening.
“Pretty?” His smile is earnest now. He strokes your cheek and you can’t not lean into his touch.
“Mhm. I want to, um…” your lips twist to the side as you look back down, finding he’s not gotten less intimidating since you last checked. “But what if I’m bad at it?” you whisper. He chuckles, brushing hair over your shoulder.
“It’s kind of a hard thing to be bad at. And I’m gonna help you, okay?”
It’s the honesty with which he speaks to you that makes you feel so safe. There are no hidden intentions or words that seem to mean one thing but really mean another. Spencer wants you as a person more than he wants you as a body and that’s been clear since the first time he touched you. You take a deep breath.
“Okay. What do I do?”
“First, you’re gonna spit in your hand.”
You look up, alarmed.
“You want me to intentionally get my spit on you? Is that not your worst nightmare?”
“Believe it or not, I’m not super worried about yours,” he teases. “But if you’d prefer, I can spit in your hand.”
“Actually, mine is fine,” you laugh nervously.
Hesitantly, you do as instructed, even though it seems frankly bizarre.
“Good. Now just wrap your hand around it, like this.” His voice is quiet, focused as he guides your hand downward. Your heart rate ticks up again as he encourages you to wrap your hand around the base of his cock. He feels much warmer than you’d expected—his skin is silken beneath your touch but he’s undeniably hard and that sort of eliminates any sense of him being fragile from the equation.
“It’s gonna be less sensitive down here—and then, up here—” he slides your hand back up, covering your thumb with his own and swiping it just below the head of his cock on the underside. He hisses and you look up in fascination. “That’s the most sensitive part.”
Without further instruction, you do it again, keeping your touch light and watching his face for a reaction. His drawn brows twitch, furrowing deeper for a second, and his lips part. A heavy exhalation passes between them and quickly builds into a breathy laugh.
“What?” you murmur, over-eager to please and very nervous to do something wrong.
“Nothing. Just feels good, that’s all.”
“Don’t laugh,” you pout. Of course that makes him laugh again, and he leans forward to kiss your head.
“I’m laughing at myself, angel. I’m a grown man fighting for my life from a handjob that you’ve barely started. I knew it would be different with you but I didn’t realize it would be this different.”
Heat rises in your cheeks and you look away.
“You don’t have to lie to make me feel better.”
“I’m not lying,” he urges, grabbing your free hand and encouraging you to uncurl your fingers. His thumb traces circles in your open palm, before capturing your entire hand in his. “Do you feel how much softer your hand is than mine?”
You frown, attempting to feel whatever it is that he’s pointing out. Despite the fact that you think he has very nice hands, you realize he’s right. By no means would you say that they’re rough, but you can tell where his gun normally sits in his hands, where his fountain pen rubs against his fingers. “Yeah.”
“Yeah. Anything you do is going to be perfect because it’s you.”
Spencer drops his hand to your leg, rubbing it soothingly. The other moves to cover yours—the one wrapped around him.
“You’re gonna help me, right?” you ask quietly. Some adventurous part of you is very excited about this as an experiment—fascinated by the reactions you’ve already gotten from him and eager to push it.
“I am. Little bit tighter, honey. I’ll tell you if it’s too much.”
You do as you’re told, and he’s murmuring more praise—slowly encouraging you to begin moving your hand with his own. A shaky exhale catches your attention, drawing your gaze to his face. His eyes are, of course, cast downward, but his expression is hypnotizing. Those lips remain slightly parted, and suddenly you wonder if he makes noises like you do. In that moment it becomes your life’s mission to find out.
For a while you continue letting his hand guide your movements, but he keeps things so slow for your sake that you’re getting impatient. You forgo his direction, picking up the pace but trying to keep the rhythm he’d instilled in the motion. His hand slackens around yours.
“Fuck,” he hisses to himself. The hand on your thigh rubs achingly deeper into the flesh. “Angel, what are you doing?”
“I want it to feel good.” Suddenly shy again, you slow down. His hips stutter, which you think may be a sign that it was working. “Am I—was that bad?” Spencer looses a breath, looking almost… frustrated?
“No, I’m just—I’m weirdly close to coming.”
“That’s a good thing, right?”
“Well,” he mutters, “not usually. Mostly it’s embarrassing.”
You giggle, a release of some tension, and begin pumping your hand again. His breath hitches and he finally looks up at you, meeting your eyes with his own lust-glazed ones. Heat pools deep between your legs.
“I want you to come,” you admit quietly as you twist your wrist, brushing that spot underneath the head of his cock again. His jaw literally drops, and a look that is part confusion, part pleasure, twists his features. You see the surprise sparkling in his eyes and it only spurs you to keep talking. “I’ve never seen how you look when you do, but I’ve imagined it. I bet you look so pretty when you come, Spencer. ‘Nd then I would know that I can make you feel good, too.”
“You… you are making me feel good,” he assures you. The way his brow furrows and his lips are parted give you a feeling that’s entirely new. Normally, you’re the one falling apart under his touch—but when it’s the other way around there’s a whole new kind of pleasure in it for you. You feel kind of powerful. Maybe even close to confident.
“Really? I’m not this quiet when you touch me.”
“I’ve ha—ah—had more practice not making noise.”
“But why?” you implore, ignoring the fact that he’s slept with other women and enjoyed the sounds they made, and opting to brush your thumb across that extra sensitive part he definitely shouldn’t have told you about. His hips buck up and he hisses, which is immensely gratifying to you.
“Because I like to listen.”
“What if I do, too?”
In a moment of divine inspiration , you cover the tip of his cock with your hand, swirling beads of pre-come over your palm. Spencer moans and his hips jut up into your grip. It’s a beautiful sound, just as you’d hoped.
“Jesus, fuck.”
You understand why he seems to enjoy touching you so much. It’s so rewarding to watch as his breathing picks up and pleasure contorts his face—to watch him get messier and messier and lose his composure a bit more with each stroke of your hand. It’s so simple but Spencer looks at you like you’re exercising some arcane deviant power over him and he’s not sure he should be enjoying it as much as he is.
Distantly you think about how it felt when he had his hands on you—and then, in clearer focus, how it felt when he went down on you. Both were perfect, but something about his lips so gentle on the most intimate, vulnerable part of you had felt like ascension. Maybe it was the emotional component, or maybe it just felt fucking good. Regardless, it seems an irresistible thought.
You keep stroking him until his head is lolling on the back of the couch as he groans.
“Spencer?”
“Yeah, baby?”
He sounds so destroyed it makes you clench around nothing. Without any indication that you’re going to do so, you stop touching him, and the speed with which he lifts his head again is almost comical. Immediately, while he’s utterly defenseless and desperate, you ask, “can I use my mouth?”
His eyes widen, and then shut, as he processes your request with a tiny shake of his head—probably trying to clear the haze of pleasure from his mind before he answers.
“Honey,” he rasps eventually, opening his eyes and smoothing a hand over your hair, “you don’t have to do that just because I do. That’s not why I do it.”
“But I want to,” you murmur, shy and mildly embarrassed by what feels almost like a soft rejection. “I don’t think I could do anything, like, mind-blowing, but… I want to try.”
Your face is hot by the end of the sentence, and you can’t meet Spencer’s eyes as his fingers twitch over your hip. A quiet moment passes—but it’s short-lived.
“Okay. Go ahead, baby.”
Wide eyes dart up to his.
“Really?”
Spencer smiles fondly, brushing an invisible speck from your cheek.
“I don’t think I’m capable of turning that offer down. Not when it’s you.”
“Okay—um, should I just—” Spencer watches on, finding your sudden enthusiasm completely adorable as you scoot off of his lap and gingerly kneel in front of him. Your eyes are big and glassy as you look up at him, hands set politely on his knees. You squint suspiciously, eyes darting between his face and his cock, now about as hard as it’s ever been due to your toying. He knows it’s probably intimidating for a girl who has never seen one in real life, and he feels kind of bad about it. You do terrible, wonderful things to him that he doesn’t understand. “Wow. So... it looks bigger from down here.”
“Please don’t try to choke yourself,” he instructs hurriedly, leaning forward slightly. “I really don’t need you to do that. It’s fine if you can’t fit it all, I just—” he exhales shakily. Spencer is most definitely strong-willed but he can’t pretend like the sight of you on your knees for him, inches from his aching cock for the first time isn’t impacting his cognition. Most importantly he doesn’t want to make you feel pressured. He’s trying to not let how badly he wants this show in case you change your mind.
Spencer watches as you psych yourself out—wilting like a thirsty flower.
“But what if I’m bad at this?” you mumble, hands curling into loose fists atop his legs. Spencer pushes your hair back, tucking it behind your ears.
“What’s your worst case scenario?” he asks. Your answer is immediate.
“That I’m so bad you make me stop halfway through.”
Spencer can’t help but laugh again.
“I’m sorry—I just… honey, you are really underestimating how profound your effect is on me. I just almost came from a minute long handjob. I can assure you that I won’t make you stop halfway through because I’d rather not have your mouth on me. That is… that’s just not going to happen.”
You lean your cheek against his thigh. He might actually pass away.
“Will you tell me if I’m doing something wrong?”
“Honestly, as long as you don’t bite, you’re in the clear.”
Your eyes squeeze shut and your lips pull into an embarrassed little smile.
“Great. Thank you for that invaluable advice.”
“Of course,” he smiles. It fades slowly as you take a deep breath and look up at him, obviously steeling yourself, before leaning forward and taking him in your hand again. He watches with bated breath, repeating no sudden movements to himself over and over as your hand moves up and down a few more times and your head lowers.
You delicately, so lightly trace your tongue from the base of his swollen cock to just underneath the leaking tip, mapping a vein, and his hips buck as you take him into your mouth experimentally. Only the first few inches fit but the sight of your lips wrapped around him, the way you’re looking at him is so unbelievably erotic Spencer knows he won’t last very long.
From a purely technical perspective—he knows he’s gotten objectively better head. Still, something about the way you’re so delicate with him, so soft and timid in the way you lick and kiss and take him into your mouth has him fighting not to come already. Maybe it’s wrong, but knowing that he’s watching you do this for the first time in your life is obscenely arousing. The idea that you’ve never trusted another person this much; that you’re letting him be the one to help you navigate something as new and as important as sexuality. The more he thinks about it, though, the more he realizes: it’s not your inexperience that turns him on. It’s just you. Everything you do is so undeniably you—he recognizes your mannerisms in every tiny motion, in every glance, and it’s killing him. You’re like a dream as you look up at him with big nervous eyes, (no, really, he has had this dream) and he remembers he wants to be reassuring you—not pondering life and human connection.
“Look at you,” he murmurs, groaning and hips twitching as your cheeks hollow, wrapping his achingly hard cock in soft gentle warmth so sweetly it feels taboo. “So good, baby. So gorgeous like this.”
You whine around him, receptive as always to his obsequious praise, and he notices the way your hips wiggle as you seek friction. God, you must like this a lot. Spencer gathers your hair into a makeshift ponytail, resting his hand on your head as you begin to bob it. That, he wasn’t prepared for. He’d have been satisfied with just kitten-licks and suckling but he won’t complain about this. It’s slow, and so intentional as you keep watching him for feedback cues. Ever his observant girl, you’re constantly paying attention. Aware of his reactions. He needs to keep telling you you’re good or else you’ll assume you’re terrible.
“Over-achiever,” he whispers through a little smile as you down even more of him.
Spencer is for the most part a kind and gentle person. For better or worse he is also a man, and he can’t help but fantasize about getting you all teary and drooly as he holds your mouth open and sees how much of his cock he can push down your throat. But again—kind. Gentle. So when you get a little over-zealous, attempting to sacrifice your comfort for his pleasure, he pulls your head back slightly. “That’s far enough, angel. That’s—fuck. God, you’re good at this.” The words are thoughtless, muttered to himself more than you as he watches through a haze while you look up at him with glassy, half-lidded eyes, slipping him in and out of your warm mouth, a little faster now as you gain confidence.
You whine desperately around him, like you’re the one nearing orgasm and not him. The sound of your pleasure as you suck his cock makes him dizzy. His hips buck, pressing him a little deeper into your mouth. “Jesus fucking Christ,” he exhales. “Slow down, baby. I’m—” a louder moan from him like you’ve never heard as he thrusts shallowly turns you on profoundly. He’s so much more vocal than you’d have imagined—sonically and verbally. He breathes out a quick, “fuck, fuck, fuck,” pulling your hair slightly, and you’ve never wanted to touch yourself more but you know you can’t focus on both. Instead you work on making him come—you can worry about you later. He says your name, with an authoritative edge to his tone that makes you throb. “Honey, if you don’t stop, I’m gonna come—”
You swirl your tongue around the top of him like candy and he’s done for. Spencer tries to pull out, which only results in cum both in your mouth and on your face. The orgasm is his strongest in recent memory, and he grunts, watching your lips part and a little squeak escape as he comes all over your face—but you keep stroking him all the while. Once he’s 90% sure it’s over, he falls against the back of the couch, breathing heavily and looking down at you through hazy eyes. Oh, he’s going to feel terrible about this in a few seconds—but right now you look fucking perfect. Your eyes are wide, nervous as his essence drips over your face and down your neck—he groans when you swallow cautiously, averting his eyes to the ceiling lest he do another thing he regrets.
“Baby, I am so sorry,” he mutters, forcibly clearing the haze of orgasm from his mind and sitting up, fixing his pants and looking around before locating the box of tissues on the side table. “I’m so, so sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.” You look up at him attentively as he wipes himself from your face as gently as he can.
“Why not?”
“Because I didn’t ask you first. I wasn’t thinking clearly.”
Spencer guides your head around by your chin, wiping your jaw and lips.
“It’s okay, Spence, I—”
“No, it’s not,” he cuts you off, trying to at least turn his guilt into a learning experience for you. He’s not deluded enough to think someone like you will stay with someone like him forever, because sometimes he does things like that, and he’s reminded that there are certainly people out there more deserving of you. At the very least he can clarify that nobody should ever do what he just did to you. “It’s really not nice to do that to someone.”
“Do you care what I think at all?”
Spencer freezes, finally forcing himself to look you in the eye. Despite the fact that he’s mad at himself, he’s sure it’s coming across as being directed at you. And he knows you’re sensitive, especially about this kind of thing.
“Of course, I do, baby. I’m sorry. Do you want to come back up here with me and tell me what you’re thinking?” he murmurs, cupping your jaw. Hesitantly you nod. The tissues end up on the table—which he will be thoroughlywiping down later—before you crawl back into his lap from the floor. Spencer helps you settle against him, hoping he hasn’t messed this up irreversibly. He keeps his voice quiet as he rubs your leg. “What were you going to say?”
“I was going to say,” you begin, “that it’s fine, because you’ll remember to ask next time. And because… I kind of liked it. I like when—when you do stuff like that.”
It’s a miracle he can hear you with the way your voice drops into an almost-whisper and you’re hiding against his shirt.
“Like what?” he murmurs. Although he’s not sure he’ll be able to handle the answer.
“Like… I don’t know. Like you can do whatever you want to me. Like I’m literally yours.” Each word makes you cringe further, but Spencer has to try hard to maintain a cool facade as he processes this. If he’s going to try and be chivalrous, you’ll have to move away from this topic—this revelation—immediately. Thankfully, you seem eager to move on. “So… how did I do?”
He almost laughs. It seems exceedingly obvious how you did, but as per usual, you require verbal reassurance.
“That was really good, baby. You did well.”
You blossom.
“Really?”
“I wouldn’t lie.”
“Was I the best girl out of all of the other girls?”
I wasn’t in love with any of the other girls.
Just barely, he manages to stop himself from saying it, pinwheeling his arms on the edge of a very steep verbal cliff. The realization that he’s been in love with you for a while hits him like a truck. But he can’t tell you that right now. He should wait until you’re less vulnerable.
Fuck.
He really wants to tell you right now.
“Actually—don’t answer that,” you decide, while all of this happens in his head in less than a few seconds. “I want to go back to pretending I’m the only girl you’ve ever seen in your life.”
“You’re the only one that matters,” he offers, relieved to express at least some portion of the much bigger truth. Then he frowns. “Not that the other women I’ve met don’t lead important lives. I actually know a lot of incredibly influential and intelligent people who are women. I have deep respect for all of them. Am I helping or making it worse?” he rambles. You giggle. He has his answer. “What about you? How do you feel?” he asks after a moment, tenderly, lowly, stroking your hair as you lean against his chest.
It takes you a moment to deliberate, fiddling with the fabric of his shirt.
“I feel good. I, um… liked it a lot more than I would have thought.”
“Well, that’s good. Much better than if you had hated every second of it.”
You hum in agreement, and he waits for you to say whatever you’re holding back. It comes sooner than he’d have anticipated.
“I feel bad about the times before. How did you just… go to sleep after? Were you not, like—insanely turned on? Not that I’m, like, irresistibly sexy, or whatever—you know what I mean.”
Spencer smiles because he knows you can’t see him.
“I wasn’t doing it to pressure you into feeling obligated to reciprocate, I guess. My line of reasoning was that it would be less intimidating if I didn’t even present it as an option until you wanted to try.”
“Oh.”
Spencer thinks he sees where this is going.
“Why?” he asks, leaning back and encouraging you to look at him. “Are you insanely turned on?”
“Wh—that’s—I didn’t say that!”
Spencer can feel how warm your cheeks are as he presses his lips to the side of your face.
“You can tell me if you are,” he murmurs, all smiley as he moves to kiss your lips. “If you want something, you need to ask for it. I’m not a mind reader.”
“Yes you are,” you grumble. “That’s literally what behavioral analysis is.”
Not quite true, but surprisingly, he doesn’t feel the need to explain to you the semantics of what he does for work right now.
“What got you all excited?”
“You know what,” you mumble, trying to look away again. Spencer doesn’t allow it this time, gently grabbing your jaw.
“Yes, I do. But I want you to tell me. If you want me to make you feel good, this is how you’re going to convince me that you deserve it.”
You whine wordlessly, looking at him with those big, lust-glazed eyes.
“You wanted me to teach you how to use your words, right? This is it. I’m giving you an opportunity. If you don’t want to, that’s okay. Maybe we can take a nap, like you said earlier.”
“No! I liked—um, I liked all of it. I didn’t know if I would, because I was really nervous. But when I first—you know—and you got all quiet… it was like you couldn’t even talk for a minute. I was kind of proud of that. Because normally nobody can ever get you to stop talking.” Spencer narrows his eyes incredulously, a small smile tugging at his lips. But he doesn’t interrupt—not when it seems you’re finally starting to get more confident in your words. “And I really liked the noises you made. I think that was my favorite part. I liked when you pulled my hair back, and how you spoke to me. And when… when you got me messy and I had to swallow it. I really liked how it felt because I couldn’t think of anything else, just making you feel good. I really wanted to… make you proud, I guess. Is that weird?”
Spencer shakes his head no, a fond smile on his face when your eyes meet his again.
“No. It’s a pretty normal thing to feel when you’re nervous and wanting to impress someone you care about. And I would have been proud no matter what, for the record. You were being very brave.”
You pull your bottom lip between your teeth, watching him expectantly. Spencer should have known you’re too needy to truly absorb anything he says to you right now. Which is actually pretty cute. Everything you do is endearing to him.
“Stand up.”
You frown.
“But—”
“Just stand up,” he demands calmly, preferring to think of himself as firm and not bossy.
You do, looking rather annoyed and confused as you plant yourself in front of him.
“Why?”
“You are so full of questions.” His hands slip up the side of your legs, under your skirt, and hook in the waistband of your underwear. Spencer looks up at you meaningfully and you nod, swallowing.
As he pulls down, Spencer can literally feel the resistance of the fabric clinging to your soaked core. Under his touch the skin of your thighs is warm and soft. He wants to feel it on either side of his face, he wants to hear you whine as his stubble rubs against it, he wants to feel it clamp around his wrist, he wants it between his teeth and he definitely wants it pressing against his hips as he—
But no.
There will be time for all of those things—especially the last one—later. For now, he’ll reach between your legs just to see—
“Oh, my god,” Spencer half-chuckles, half-groans, upon feeling how wet you truly are for him. He drags his knuckles from your dripping entrance up over your clit, pinching very lightly and earning a squeak from you which he ignores. “You really did like having your mouth full of me, huh?”
“I told you,” you breathe, visibly relaxing some as he continues to play with you for a moment. Then he pulls his hand away again, patting his thigh.
“Sit.”
“You want me to…”
“Yes,” he says, simply.
“But is it not going to… am I not going to mess up your pants?”
“You are even more neurotic about messiness than I am. I can wash them, honey. Come here.”
Spencer guides your hips over his thigh, watching your pretty face twist with uncertainty as you fully settle on him. Fuck, he can feel your warmth through the fabric instantly. Already he’s getting hard again.
“What am I supposed to do?” you whisper, bunching his shirt in your fists. Spencer slides your skirt up higher, revealing the way you’re nestled against his thigh. He spreads you a little further apart, exposing more of your clit to the material underneath you. Immediately you press against him—he watches the delicate flesh rubbing gingerly against him and his grip tightens ever so slightly.
“All you have to do is rock back and forth. It’s easy.”
Already you’re starting to do it—but he guesses it’s like earlier where you don’t even realize it’s happening.
“But… I wanted your mouth,” you admit, quietly, slinging your arms around his neck and burying your face there.
“Do this for me first. Just get yourself off like this one time and then you can have my mouth. You said you wanted to help me feel better because I’m tired today, right?
“Yes,” you mumble, squirming over him.
“Well, there are a lot of days when I get back home and I’m tired. I’m gonna need you to be able to get on top of me, just like this, and make me feel better. And I know you don’t know what it feels like to have something that deep inside of you yet, but it’s gonna be a lot. Even once you know how it feels to have me inside when you’re underneath me. I need you to practice for me right now so you’ll be ready, okay?”
You could come from the words alone. You nod, dazed with need as you roll your hips in a circle, pressing his thigh against your clit.
“Back and forth, baby,” he murmurs, guiding your hips forward with his hands locked around them. “Back and forth, just like this…”
You moan quietly, shamelessly, eyes fluttering as you look down and watch your clit dragging over the darkening fabric. It’s easier if you isolate your hips, grinding down without moving your legs or upper body at all.
“It feels really good,” you whisper under your quickening breath.
“Yeah? Does it?”
“Mhm.”
“Good, angel. You look like you know what you’re doing.”
It’s audible now, quiet and wet and dirty.
“I don’t,” you breathe. He sucks in a breath of his own, stilling your hips with fingers pressed deep into your flesh.
“Sit up, baby.” You really wish he would stop making you stop, but you don’t want to keep going in case he needs you to quit—so you rise slowly, thighs trembling as you kneel. Spencer groans at the strings of your arousal momentarily connecting your core to his pants before they snap, getting your inner thighs wet. There’s a dark, very wet patch over his thigh, shining like glass. He thumbs over your slick clit absentmindedly as he looks up at you like you’re a miracle. “You’re fucking soaked. I’ve never seen you like this. Is this all from making me come?”
You nod feverishly, hips grinding against nothing in search of friction. He sits you back down on his leg, allowing you to sloppily find your rhythm again. Spencer bounces his leg lightly and you cry out softly, buckling forward. His arms wrap around you, still pressing you down against his thigh as you rut against it.
“You’re sweet. Maybe I should have known how much you’d like it when I came all over your pretty face. You really like hearing that you did a good job, huh? I bet you like it even more when I prove it to you.”
You moan a “yeah,” barely processing his words.
“My good girl even swallowed on her first try. Took it so well. And now look at how you’re taking this. You’re gonna love riding, baby. Just going to be another thing you’re good at as soon as you try it.”
“Spencer,” you gasp, overwhelmed by the praise. He’s bouncing his leg at regular intervals and everything is so sensitive.
“I know it’s harder to finish this way, but just one time, remember? And then you can have my tongue for as long as you want. You are my only plan for the day. Just give me one like this.”
But it’s not really harder to finish this way. Then again, you’re so turned on you could probably finish if a breeze hit you just right. Regardless, the thought of him going down on you again pushes you even closer to the edge.
You don’t know how much time goes by like that, you rubbing against him like it’s the last thing you’ll ever do, him pressing up into you until the pressure is so taut it snaps. There’s no time to warn him, but you suppose you don’t really need to. You writhe against him, caught between wanting to keep going and not being able to take more stimulation. He lifts you up just slightly, trying to separate you from his leg. You exhale deeply as your body relaxes, already close to dozing off against his chest.
“We can’t have you tapping out just yet. I still have to fulfill my end of the deal.”
In the end, he fulfills it three times over, and you end up showing your appreciation in kind one more time—much slower and more comfortably in his bed. He gives you plenty of time to learn what he likes, taking your teasing and coquettish explorations like a champ and never so much as tightening his grip in your hair. Turns out, you don't exactly spend the day doing nothing.
And you do end up taking that nap after all. Just... much, much later. And with less clothing on.
#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid smut#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid fic#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid x self insert#spencer reid x#spencer reid angst#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x y/n#criminal minds smut#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds imagine
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12 and 10 fluff with Alucard 🥺 he is feeling insecure about his scars, and about his own being, considering himself to be a monster, and then reader calms him down
A/N: Me pouting the entire time I wrote this bc I love alucard sm and I hate thinking of him sad lmao. I hope this one is okay and that you like it, I'm not sure if it's my best work ): mwuah
"Hold me" "I wish you could see how I see you" x Alucard
Some days are easy. Some days are nice walks in the park, getting free loaves of freshly baked bread because the village people are so grateful for everything he’s done. Some days are sweet, simple, enjoying the day with the love of his life. Other days?
Other days are hard. Terribly so.
Today was a hard day. A mental rain cloud had been brewing over Alucard for the last few hours, starting when he saw himself fresh out of the bath, scars seared into his skin from what could be one of the most terrible nights of his life. The traumatic events flashed in his mind, rendering him still with fear. Fear that it’d happen again, with you, fear that he’d be useless in the face of danger if someone came for you, fear that he even had the capacity of thinking you capable of such wickedness. His hands trembled, staring at himself in the mirror, a tear escaping from his eye before turning away from the mirror, dressing quickly and getting on with his duties for the day. He didn’t want to think about it anymore.
But the fear had latched onto him, growing and festering into an ugly cycle of feeling self conscious and not good enough, hating the way the scars look, hating the way the scar his father left behind looked. His body marred with imperfect skin, showing the world his weaknesses. The rain cloud had split open and a thunderstorm loomed over him, retiring much earlier from his chores than intended. He threw himself into his studies in hopes that he would forget the sick feeling in his stomach.
“Adrian, honey?” Your sweet voice called out to him, and it broke him out of his stupor. He forgot about dinner. A dinner that he insisted on helping you with. And he left you there to finish it all by yourself. Alucard felt miserable. He’d been brewing in his own misery; he had been ignoring not only his duties to the village but to you. You must hate him, you must think he’s so selfish, and lazy, and no good, and-- “Ah, there you are!” You smiled, skipping over to him before noticing how rotten he looked. “Adrian? Are you okay?” You worried, bringing a hand up to his forehead. He tried his best to put on a brave face, shaking his head. “I’m fine, love, don’t worry about me. I’m sorry I lost track of him, I left you to prepare dinner alone.” He stood, ready to put on a facade for the rest of the night, lest you think something awful of him.
But you knew him better than anyone.
“Dinner can wait, why don’t we just go to the room for a bit?” He wanted more than anything to stay distracted and not think of the burning his skin felt today. But he knew you wouldn’t let him continue to wallow. Alucard sighed, saying nothing and heading into your shared room. You gave him space, sitting across from him. You didn’t ask any specifics, not needing them. All you needed to know is that Alucard wasn’t feeling his best, and that you would do anything for him. “Adrian, sweet boy...what can I do to help?” Your soft voice nearly ruined him, a broken sob escaping without his consent. The palms of his hands pressed into his eyes, hating more than anything in the world this was happening. Now was not the time to look weak. But he needed you, needed to feel grounded. So he broke. “Can you...can you hold me? Please?” He let out a shaky breath, and silently you moved to him, cradling his head in your hands and bringing him closer to your chest, Your legs wrapped around his torso, trying to cover as much of him as possible with yourself, hoping that whatever was tormenting him would slip away with your presence.
“I’m sorry--I’m sorry love, I fucked up and I missed dinner. I didn’t mean to, I lost track of time and--” You hushed him mid sentence, rocking him gently back and forth in your arms. “Tell me what’s really going on, this isn’t about dinner.” Alucard steadied himself, releasing a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. “I can’t stand looking at myself. Not with these disgusting scars.” Your heart shattered hearing how awful he talked about himself. You cursed the world for ever hurting your sweet boy like this. “Adrian, light of my life, fire in my veins, my handsome man--you’re perfect.” You kissed his temple, running a hand over his hair. “The scars are a reminder that you persevered. That you survived.” You gently reminded him, and another kiss. “I wish you could see how I see you. I love every detail about you, I’m so sorry you’ve endured the life you have, but I am so grateful that it has brought you to me.” Slowly, you untangled yourself from him and sat on your knees before him. You took his hands that had loosened from his eyes, kissing each wrist. You pushed the sleeve of his shirt up, kissing the patches of scar tissue that showed through. You moved to his chest, kissing the scarring that showed through the shirt, and mirrored your actions to his other arm. You let go of his arms, wiping away the remaining tears that stained his cheeks and kissed his eyelids, before pressing your forehead to his.
“You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever met in my life, inside and out. And that includes the scars. Never doubt yourself, or my love for you. I’ll be here with you, until the ends of the Earth.”
#milk writes#adrian tepes#alucard x reader#castlevania#adrian tepes x reader#alucard#alucard tepes x reader#castlevania (2017)#milk flufftober
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wyd when an otherwise harmless confrontation with your gf's other gf becomes a bloody standoff incited by some fuckass walmart brand cthulhu freak and ultimately ends in your death ? 🤨
and wyd when you miraculously come back at the hands of some obscure entity that acts like they don't want anything from you but deep down you know that everything comes with a price; especially these crazy abilities you suddenly have? 🤔
Meet Zar!
(she/they)
Zahara "Zar" Hawthorne
pronouns: she/they
age: 18
dob: December 17th, 2005
death date: January 1st. 2023
resurrection date: January 8th, 2023
orientation: biromantic, aegosexual
general fc: amandla stenberg
starkid fc: tiffany williams
facts n things:
was That Girl™️: popular cheerleader, but nice enough to have a plug in every clique; in the top 10 of her class; had the perfect girlfriend, etc. etc. very sweet girl, just had the worst friends
was (and is) deeply strange by normie standards. hangs out in graveyards and develops parasocial relationship with some of the tombstones. has a serious fascination with life, death, anatomy, bugs, the supernatural, etc.
initially kept that shit to herself bc it's social suicide—total grounds for being a nerdy prude. dying changes ur outlook a bit, though. release ur inhibitions, feel the rain, etc, etc
can be very blunt and outspoken. despite being well meaning and friendly, she'll sometimes say things without thinking but they always apologize as soon as they realize she's stuck a foot in her mouth. all but abandoned her peppy sunshiney half after coming back. she's still in there, somewhere. but it'll take a lot for them to fully trust someone enough again
so, what happened?
their gf's other woman, who I'll name Lou for simplicity, got her to come out to the ol' Waylon place so they could "talk"
many things lead to many other things and an "intimidation" attempt turns into a murder attempt, with Lou being under the influence of Wiggly
ruh roh! snapped out of it, Lou is in a panic and decides to call the mutual gf for advice
mutual gf is the worst person ever, actually. instead of turning Lou in, she helps her cover things up and they dump Zar's body deep in the Witchwood Forest
but wait, there's more! Zar's not quite dead and eventually succumbs to a combination of their wounds and the freezing January night
but not before weakly calling out to somebody, anybody for help
seven days later and She Has Risen! with the help of a currently undetermined entity, but renewed life comes with a price and, in order to live, Zar must do their bidding
it's not all bad, though. they don't ask for things super often (but when they do, there's absolutely no objections. ever.) and have been super helpful in both Zar's revenge plot and honing her newly gained abilities. sometimes she uses her powers for good tho
anywayy, Zar dropped out of Hatchetfield High after being murdered—fair tbh. who needs a GED when you can work at the seedy occult store in town and also be an immortal witch of ambiguous moral standing 🤷🏽♀️
but tbh - at the end of the day, they're still just a 18 year old girl. imagine all the cringe 18 year old quirks and throw them into a vat of powerful murder gremlin soup. that's Zar
(after)life goals:
get revenge ✅
join smoke club ✅
resurrect the Victorian Dandy whose grave she hung around the most—they had a tryst in the afterlife and are saur in love 🔳
go on a tour of all the most haunted places in the world 🔳
see Gossip, Babymetal, and MCR in concert 🔳🔳🔳
Zahara and her story draw heavy influence from Jennifer's Body, Lisa Frankenstein, Poor Things, every other goth horror queen and a myriad of tropes I really enjoy. they're my manic murder goth girl, but she's so chill if you're cool 😌
Pre-Death Pinterest
After-Death Pinterest
#blood tw#hatchetfield oc#oc: zar#uhm if there are typos...............................nuh uh#my art
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These Shadows of Mine (pt. 1)
Previously known as “Inventory and Tea”
Steven Grant x reader
Content: fluff! Sweet love for my baby boi Steven Grant. He needs all the hugs. He deserves all the hugs.
A/N: I’ve watched the first episode of Moon Knight about 5 times...and I’m quite literally watching it now as I edit this to post it. :) I can feel my obsession with this character growing, bc not only do I love Oscar Isaac, but I already love this show. I can’t wait for next Wednesday...and the Wednesday after... and the-
Word Count: 2.1k
Babyboiboyega’s Marvel Masterlist
Babyboiboyega’s Masterlist of Masterlists
Part 1, Part 2
**************************
Your footsteps slowed as they approached the front desk of the museum you worked in; more specifically, they slowed as you approached the person standing behind the desk.
Steven’s body swayed back and forth, making a sympathetic and small smile appear on your face. Despite your efforts to make your footsteps louder, not wanting to scare him, his eyes remained closed and his lips slightly parted.
You tried to ignore the way your heart skipped a beat as you approached him; this little crush of yours had come out of nowhere, and it had approached fast.
One day, he was just Steven; a guy who welcomed you on your first day with little jokes, kind glances, and even kinder smiles. Then, after a particularly hard day, you had seen him waiting for you at the entrance/exit of the museum. His hands had been in his pockets, his satchel half falling off of his shoulder. That hadn’t been what caught your eye, though it was rather nice seeing him wait for you.
As you had approached him, the sound of rain reached your ears, hitting the ground outside hard and fast. The umbrella in his hand made sense, yet it only added another aspect to your terrible day.
No doubt seeing the look of exhaustion on your face (and recognizing it rather well) and your hands void of an umbrella, he spoke before you could let out a groan.
“I noticed you didn’t have an umbrella, so…so I thought I would wait for you and see if…you know, you wanted to use mine?”
You had paused in your tracks, your eyes finding his. There was a soft smile on his face, yet his eyes were hesitant as he awaited your answer, his umbrella half stretched out to you.
“I hope it’s not too weird that I waited. I just know that sometimes when I’m here alone, it’s a little creepy, innit? Just didn’t want you to think…that you were alone.”
His words, spoken quickly and accompanied by slight stammering that you honestly found endearing was enough to make the weight on your shoulders disappear, your own smile appearing on your face.
“Thank you, Steven, that’s very kind of you. And I’d appreciate it!”
His smile widened in just the slightest as he handed you his umbrella, stepping to the side and letting you lead the way out of the museum.
You two stood on the steps of the museum, under the pillars, just listening and watching the rain. The little bubble of peace was interrupted, only slightly, as you took a deep breath.
“Well, Steven. Shall we? I’d hate to wait until the rain got harder.”
His eyes were wide as he watched you open the umbrella before stepping closer to him, placing it between you two’s arms.
Before you could take a step, his own hand came up, grabbing the umbrella’s neck. His pinky lightly skimmed yours, sending the smallest but most pleasant jolt through your arm.
The two of you walked down the steps of the museum together, shoulders pressed against each other, hands just slightly apart. Stepping in tandem, both of you wearing small smiles, you started your trek to the nearby bus stop all the while making light conversation.
It wasn’t hard to admit that that was the day your crush had grown on the mild-mannered man.
Your heart skipped the same way it had that day as you walked around the counter, gently setting your bag on the floor. You couldn’t help the small, sympathetic smile from appearing on your face.
You’d known Steven long enough to be aware of his “insomnia”, for lack of better word. It had come to light after seeing him in the same position he was currently in, asleep on his feet or in weird places. Ever since you had been made aware, you had tried to make things just a little easier for him. Refilling his cup with hot coffee when his had gone cold as he slept in the break room, lending a helping hand whenever his movements were extra sluggish, even sometimes bringing an extra cup of tea or coffee just in case he had forgotten to bring his own.
To be quite honest, your actions to an outsider might seem like something a partner would do. The realization had you questioning if you were doing too much, being too overbearing in your genuine desire to help him. The last thing you had wanted was for him to think that you thought he couldn’t take care of himself.
But you couldn’t help it, especially when you stumbled upon him basically dead on his feet, eyebrows still furrowed, even when asleep.
“Steven?”
He didn’t stir, but his head drooped just a little bit more. Steven’s hand were on the counter in front of him, still on top of a few items he was meant to be scanning for inventory. You had just taken another step, hand reaching for his shoulder, when he suddenly pitched forward.
With a small noise of surprise, you managed to grab his shoulders just in time before he could slam into the counter. His head promptly fell onto your shoulder and his body pushed yours against the counter, effectively trapping you between the two surfaces.
Eyes widening and trying to keep both of you righted, you managed to grab at the chair next to you, somehow wrestling it until it was behind Steven’s legs.
“You’re actually heavier than you look.”
With a deep breath, you set Steven’s body in the chair as gently as you could, gently resting his against the wall behind him. Your body slumped against the counter across from his, your eyes resting on his still sleeping figure, even after everything that had just taken place.
Turning slightly and scanning the counter, you took note of the few items he had left to scan and, without thinking, picked up the scanner.
You didn’t know how long you stood there, scanning the items that ranged from charms to bags of jelly beans with hieroglyphics on them, but one minute you were putting them in their respective baskets, and the next a finger was lightly tapping your shoulder.
You jumped before whirling around, scanner raised in some sorry display of self-defense, only to quickly lower it at seeing a wide eyed Steven staring at you.
For just a few seconds, you two stared at each other; you waiting for him to say something, while he worked on confirming that he was actually awake. Your voice came out confused and a little worried as you broke the silence.
“Steven? Everything okay?
His mouth opened and closed a few times before sound finally came out. His voice was hoarse yet still held that softness that always put you at ease.
“Yeah…yeah, everything’s okay. Are you scanning the inventory? I was supposed to be doing that…” his eyebrows furrowed as his eyes drifted away from you, his confusion clear on his face.
“I was supposed to be doing inventory, but then…I fell asleep.” His shoulders dropped as he came to realization that he had fallen asleep in the middle of the task that you had just completed in his place. His face turned apologetic right before apologies started spilling from his lips.
“Oh, God, Y/N- I’m so sorry. You didn’t have to do that- why didn’t you wake me up?”
He continued mumbling a mixture of apologies and slightly self-deprecating statements under his breath as his hands searched the counter, intending on finishing the task before you could.
You called his name a few times, yet his movements only stopped when your hand landed gently on top of his. His eyes found yours, still wide and slightly confused.
“Steven, I’ve already finished inventory. You had already gotten a good deal done, and I just finished the little bit left. You seemed incredibly tired, thought I’d help.” You smiled reassuringly at him in an effort to show him that you weren’t at all upset.
Instead of responding, he just continued to gaze at you, something indiscernible in his eyes. It…it honestly made you fidget a little. Not from the pressure of his gaze, but from the feeling that ran through your body under it.
You pursed your lips, letting out a small breath before taking the basket and setting it back where it belonged under the counter. The scanner went back to its rightful place, and then you were turning towards Steven, stopping short upon seeing him still staring.
“I promise I didn’t mind. I’m glad I could help; you looked pretty tired, and I didn’t want to disturb you. But I think we should both go ahead and get out of here; I have my favorite tea waiting for me at home, and I’m sure you’d like to get home and rest…or at least try to rest.”
Gently patting his shoulder as you walked past, you grabbed your bag from where you had dropped it before walking around the desk. You could hear Steven’s hurried footsteps as he rushed to grab his own belongings from under the counter before following you.
“W-what’s your favorite tea? If you don’t mind me asking.”
His question held sincerity as he caught up, matching his footsteps to yours. His eyes, albeit still a little glazed over, slightly puffy from lack of sleep, were genuine. A soft laugh left your mouth.
“You sure you want to know? I’ve been told its not a favorite in this city.” You raised an eyebrow at him, and he responded with a small smile of his own. He nodded in reply, only looking away to open the museum’s door as you reached it.
“I promise I won’t judge. I quite like tea myself- different flavors of it.”
You waited until you both had already started walking down the steps of the museum, your smile growing as you noticed his focus on you.
“I love a good cup of Kusmi Anastasia Black tea.”
At your words, his eyebrows furrowed. He seemed to be thinking before he turned slightly to you while you two walked.
“I don’t think I’ve heard of that one. I’ll have to try it.”
“Well, don’t let other’s opinions sway yours before you try it. Go in with an open mind.”
A soft laugh left his mouth and he nodded. It didn’t take long before you two had reached the bus stop across the street from the museum, and when you did, your steps slowed to a stop. Turning to him, you found yourself wanting to stand right there and continue the conversation, but seeing him yawn and rub at his eyes just reminded you of what time it was.
“I think this is where we part ways. I’m just a few blocks away from here.”
Steven hadn’t seemed to notice that he stood at the bus stop he regularly used every morning until you said something, and even then, his eyes only remained on you. You found that you couldn’t look away yourself, nor did you want to.
“Y/N, I wanted to apologize again, and thank you for finishing inventory. I really owe you one.”
Your head was shaking before he had even finished speaking.
“Steven, I told you, I didn’t mind. You don’t owe me anything. Just helping out where I can.”
He desperately hoped that you couldn’t see the way he jolted in just the slightest as your hand landed on his arm before gently squeezing. As you turned away, undoubtedly in the direction of your apartment, he found himself almost reaching out to grab your hand. It was something he wanted to do so badly, but something he decided against at the last minute.
“Goodnight, Steven. I’ll see you tomorrow…and get some rest.” You gave him a smile before turning completely, starting you short trek home. You could feel his eyes on your retreating figure, and you were glad that your back was to him; it allowed your smile to grow incredibly giddy and allowed you to come to the realization that maybe…just maybe… this wasn’t just a little crush.
Whatever it was only seemed to grow, especially as you arrived the next morning only to stumble upon a small, blue and silver tin in your locker in the break room.
Eyebrows furrowing in both confusion and recognition, you picked up the familiar tin. A note was taped to the top of it, but you already had a suspicion as to who it was from…and it only made that same, stupid, giddy smile appear on your face.
We need more people in the world like you. Thank you for helping me.
xxSteven
*******************************************
If you liked this oneshot, I have another Steven Grant x reader oneshot: "Comfort" ! If you want more, go check that one out! Also, the 2nd part is out! I’ll be tagging this series as “These Shadows of Mine” or “TSOM” on my page, so it’ll be a little easier to find! All parts will also be on my main masterlist and my marvel masterlist!
I hope you all enjoyed this! Believe it or not, this was supposed to be a drabble under about 300 words. Here it is...a full blown oneshot at 2k words. Do I regret it? No, because my momma didn’t raise no regretful bi-
Please like and comment, and please reblog! It’ll go a long way and I’ll be greatly appreciative!
Stay safe, y’all!
#steven grant#steven grant x reader#steven grant imagine#steven grant oneshot#steven grant drabble#steven grant fanfic#steven grant x you#steven grant x GN!reader#moon knight#moon knight x reader#moon knight imagine#moon knight oneshot#moon knight drabble#moon knight fanfic#moon knight x you#oscar isaac#Marc Spector#Marc Spector x reader#Marc Spector x you#Marc Spector imagines#Marc Spector imagine#Marc Spector oneshot#Marc Spector Drabble#Marc Spector fanfic#these shadows of mine#TSOM
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I know mob sebastian has 2 boys and 2 girls but I can't stop thinking of him as a girl dad for the first time
aaaaa i just had to write something about mob seb with his first baby daughter and also make it christmas bc hey yo it's christmas season
part of the handmaid series
The weather outside was spiteful, the Parisian skies dark grey as it threatened to rain, or even snow based on how cold it was outside. It had been a full day of meetings and looking at badly done contracts, an everyday routine which he had been accustomed to yet ever since Y/N had given birth to their first daughter, their third child, it was becoming harder, and harder to leave his family for more than a few hours. Thankfully, he was back home and as he opened the door to their top floor flat, immediately seeing his wife and two sons out of the corner of his eye. Nate was running around the Christmas tree with some golden garland while Oli has his warms wrapped around his mother as per usual. He smiled at the corner of his lips, slowly closing the door behind him and hanging the coat on the coat hanger by the door.
Y/N was cooing at her son, smiling at him with that angelic like look of hers that made him fall in love with her over and over again every single day. She didn't change a single thing from the time he'd met her and it was refreshing. It was refreshing to see that the person he'd met was genuine and that discovering her past and where she'd come from hadn't changed her. She was still the love of his life, she'd always be the love of his life. She lifted her gaze from her son to meet his, a playful smirk forming in her lips.
- Hi, angel. - he walked up to kiss, kissing her temple, before holding her close to his side. - What are you guys up to?
- Decorating. - Nate stopped running around the tree to tell his dad what he was doing before returning to run.
- Are you decorating, Oli? - he asked Oli who had his head laid on her chest, toying with the pearls Sebastian had gifted her for her birthday. - Where's Lizzie?
- Sleeping. That's all she does, Seb. - she joked before moving to open one of the boxes containing the decorations.
He kissed her once more before moving to help pick out decorations with Nate. It was nice getting to decorate the house with his family as it sadly barely happened. He worked too much, he knew he did and the last time he'd gotten time to decorate had been when Nate was a newborn and he was on parent leave. He had no choice at the end of the day, if one step was mistaken then he'd put his whole family in danger and he was not let that happened. However, he did enjoy being a father, he enjoyed waking up in the morning earlier than everyone else and cook breakfast. He enjoyed looking at Nate pick up ornaments and put them on the tree in odd orders.
He was busy watching his son toy around with the sparkly ornaments when the baby monitor on the living room went off. Y/N turned towards the noise, moving to put Oli on the ground but he started to pout which both of them knew was never good, it normally meant a fit was on the way. Nate was used to being the older brother, Oli was not and Y/N and Sebastian were still trying to make him more comfortable with a new baby in the house.
- I got it, angel. - Sebastian got up from his crouching position to go comfort Lizzie.
He walked to the nursery where he could hear her faint cries; although, he liked to joke she wasn't crying, she was just awake and wanted attention. If both his sons would normally look at their crib mobiles when they woke up back when they were newborns and would only cry when they felt they needed something, Lizzie cried the moment she woke up. He looked over her crib and the crying ceased, the five month old extending her arms to be picked up. He chuckled at this, moving his arms to pick her up, one hand under her bum and the other one on her back.
- You are a little attention seeker. - he kissed her cheek, rocking her side to side. - Let's go make mummy some company?
Her fists balled against his shirt as he took her back to the living room where Oli was still holding onto his mum. Sebastian had to admit it was quite funny seeing his son being jealous of his mum's attention, yet he was still very young and used to having all the attention in the world so he understood that. Y/N smiled as she saw Sebastian walk into the room, carrying their daughter who was dressed in a teddy fur onesie with a matching hat that she still hadn't managed to take away unlike her socks which one was missing.
- Look who's awake. - Sebastian propped her daughter better against him. - And ready for attention.
- Like her dad, huh? - Y/N teased.
- Very funny, Mrs. Stan. - he got close to his wife, nipping her in the neck when both Oli and Nate weren’t paying attention. - I seem to be reminded you’re the one who likes my attention.
- Daddy, come help with the tree! - Nate whined, interrupting a very hot flushed Y/N.
He winked at his flustered wife before pacing over to his son to look at him place various tree ornaments. Lizzie eyed the ornaments box curiously, being just low enough to hit her hand against some of the baubles before grabbing a gold one. A very specific bauble. Well, she’s just like her mum, Sebastian thought as she showed him what she had scavenged from the box.
- That’s mummy’s favourite. - he explained. - The only proof your grandfather slightly raised her.
- Seb! - Y/N warned. - We’re gonna have a nice peaceful Christmas.
- Sure thing, angel. Just letting our daughter know a bit of family history. - he smiled at Lizzie who was still staring at the bauble, happily munching at the string while she did so. - Do you wanna put it on the tree?
She continued munching on the string as Sebastian grabbed a random ornament to put on the tree. She stared at the motion, before throwing the bauble at the tree which he caught before it could shatter.
- We do it like this, baby. - he held her chubby little hand in his as both hanged the ornament on the tree. The 5 month year old stared at it for a while before squealing of joy. - Well done, baby. I’m so proud.
- I mean it. - Y/N walked over to Sebastian as Oli decided to join in with his brother to place some random ornaments in the tree. - You’ll be good to my dad.
- Yes, angel.
- And you will not fight him when he calls her Robin. - Y/N pointed out.
- Her name is Elizabeth.
- Her first name is Robin.
- Yeah but we don’t really call her Robin, do we? - he had a point. - I’m just defensive of our kids.
- You’re a softie, is what you are. - she leaned against him watching the tree become filled with sparkling ornaments. - The moment Lizzie was born that was it. You became a girl dad.
- What is that supposed to mean?
- It means, you’re an incredible softie. It was bad with Nate and Oli but with Lizzie ...
- Not my fault you gave me perfect kids.
- No. - she smiled. - Not your fault at all.
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the love languages part iii: words of affirmation (f.w.)
pairing: fred weasley x fem!reader
summary: y/n thinks fred is losing interest in her after he catches another girls eye so he makes sure she knows just how much he loves her.
warnings: kissing, mentions of cheating, misunderstandings, mentions of a breakup, insecurities, mentions of marriage, mentions of pregnancy, very brief joke about a physical fight, ANGST but with a happy ending!!
word count: 1.7k
a/n: this is late and i'm very, very sorry but i started writing it and kinda hated it so i had to take a step back and come back to it! i kinda struggled with this one bc words of affirmation is the farthest thing from my personal love language but i hope i did it justice.
*all photos are from pinterest*
series masterlist // part i // part ii // part iv
The warm sunlight washed over Y/N’s skin as she stepped into the courtyard, a smile etched on her face at the thought of seeing her boyfriend, after spending the entire day in class away from him she couldn’t wait to revel in the feeling of his arms wrapped around her. She scanned the sea of students before her eyes finally found him, her smile slightly dropped when she saw two Hufflepuff girls standing in front of Fred as he leaned against a bench on the ground. The two girls were older than Y/N, they giggled as they spoke to him, one of them twirling her hair around her finger. She could feel jealousy pooling deep in the pit of her stomach coupled with an overwhelming sense of guilt as Fred looked very uninterested with the conversation the two girls were attempting to initiate, constantly looking around in search of her.
“There she is!” Fred spoke when Y/N made her way to him, the smile on his face was so genuine that she almost forgot about all the anger that previously possessed her.
“Hi, Freddie.” She greeted, giving into his outstretched arms to let him pull her into his lap. He placed a sweet kiss to her temple. “Hi.” She spoke softly, turning her attention to the two girls, irritation lacing their features.
“Maybe we’ll see you around Fred.” One of them piped up before leaving, whispering to one another as they retreated.
“Your friends seem nice.” Y/N scoffed, biting the inside of her cheek as Fred’s arms tightened around her, sensing her discomfort.
“Not my friends.” He chuckled, littering the side of her face with kisses which earned a giggle from her. “Just some girls in my Herbology class, they won’t leave me alone.” He added.
“Can’t entirely blame them.” She joked, attempting to make light of the situation. “I don’t leave you alone either.”
“Mhmm.” He started, turning her head to face him so that he could place a kiss to her lips. “But your company is more than welcomed, princess.”
She giggled at his soft demeanor, taking his hand in hers whilst she leaned back against his chest as she listened to him babble on excitingly about some of the new products he and George were working on for the shop. She felt content here in his arms but her mind kept wandering to the girls that were obviously attempting to flirt with her boyfriend.
Y/N knew Fred loved her, knew that no matter how many girls flocked to him he would always politely excuse himself from the situation in order to find her, knew that he wouldn’t even think about cheating on her but was he losing interest in her? What if he was looking at all these other girls and thinking they were prettier than her, smarter than her, better than her? She pushed the thoughts away, not wanting to think about losing Fred to someone else, she could hardly stomach it. But truly, it plagued her, Fred had come into her life and made it completely different, he forced her to live in colour after so long of feeling like she was one of those sad black and white Hollywood starlets. He made her feel special, made the rain seem like a gift instead of an inconvenience, made the sun feel warmer and the moon feel like he hung it in the sky just for her.
Fred noticed that Y/N had something on her mind and spent the next few days constantly asking if she was okay but he knew that she was far too stubborn to tell him what was bothering her. Because of this Fred tried a little harder to make sure she knew how much she meant to him, Y/N knew what he was doing but she wasn’t ready to confess to him that she was jealous of all the attention he was getting from the girls at school, worried that her insecurities would push him away. But that was never something that crossed Fred’s mind, he had assumed that other people flirting with him would upset her which is why he always rejected the advances, always made sure she knew that there was no one else walking this earth more perfect for him, he truly wanted nothing more than to slip a ring on her finger and spend the rest of his days with her. Hell if he had a ring right now he’d propose to her no questions asked.
“Alicia, do you know who that girl is?” Y/N asked as she sat in the library, textbooks littering the table in front of the two girls as they poured over their homework. Alicia spun around in her seat to get a look at the girl in question.
“The Hufflepuff girl?” She asked to which Y/N nodded. “I think her name is Jessica, why?”
“It’s nothing.” She lied in reply, gritting her teeth. “Just asking.”
“No you’re not.” She spoke casually, seeing directly through Y/N’s facade. “You don’t seem like yourself lately, what’s wrong?”
“She was talking to Fred a couple days ago.” Y/N sighed. “I just can’t shake it, I’ve caught her staring at him at dinner a few times and she was so adamant about talking to him that day.” Her voice shook as she spoke, Alicia looked to her with a soft smile.
“Y/N.” She started. “Fred loves you so bloody much, so much so that it's kind of gross sometimes. He’d never even think about pursuing another girl, he looks at you like you have a halo hanging above your head.”
“Thanks.” She sniffed, giggling at her friend. “You’re a good friend, Alicia.”
“And if all else fails, you could probably take her in a fight.” Alicia added, earning a loud, genuine laugh from Y/N earning stares and shushing from those in the library.
She felt lighter after her conversation with Alicia and was excited to see Fred at dinner, she wanted nothing more than to wrap her arms around his neck and kiss his entire face. Her warm and fuzzy thoughts of Fred were interrupted when she saw Jessica running her fingers up his arm, a devilish smile playing on her lips. Y/N could hardly process the sight in front of her, it was making her sick to her stomach so much that she couldn’t bear to look at Fred’s face not wanting to see his reaction to the pretty girl in front of him trailing her hand up his arm. She didn’t even realize that her feet were carrying her body away from the sight in front of her until she could hear him calling after her.
Tears spilled from her eyes, tracking down her face as she ignored Fred’s desperate calls to her, practically running through the common room and up to her room. She slammed the door, sliding down it as she pulled her knees up to her chest, sobs now freely leaving her mouth.
“Y/N, angel-” Fred started, outside her door, he was audibly out of breath from chasing her through the castle. “Open the door please.”
She sat there for a minute, contemplating never opening the door, never speaking to him again, just simply forgetting that she never ever heard Fred Weasley’s name. But she knew she couldn’t, knew she could never forget about him and she also knew she shouldn’t just shut him out, he would never purposely hurt her. With a sigh she lifted herself from the ground and opened the door to find her very disheveled boyfriend, his hair messy from running his hands through it, his face flushed. As soon as she saw him her legs collapsed beneath her, choked sobs making their appearance once again.
“Hey, hey, none of that.” He whispered, taking her into his arms on the floor. “She just came up to me love, I told her she had to leave me alone, that there was never going to be anything between us because I was in love with you.” He rubbed circles into her back as she sobbed into his chest, placing barely there kisses into her hair.
“Are you-” She started, another brutal sob racking her body. “Are you losing interest in me? I-I don’t want you to feel like you have to stay with me if you don’t want to be.” Freds heart was aching listening to her, he cursed himself for the way she was feeling. He should have told her he loved her more, he should have woken her up every morning by telling her she was the only girl he ever thought of, that he ever wanted.
“I love you Y/N.” He began. “H-How-”
“You can love someone and get bored with them.” She spoke quietly. Fred sighed, placing his hands on her shoulders, he pulled her back to look at her.
“I will never get tired of you, you will never bore me and there is not a chance in hell that I will lose interest in you.” Her eyes found his for the first time since she first opened the door. “I think about you all day, everyday, from the second I wake up with you in my arms until I get to fall asleep next to you, all I think about is you. You’re everything to me.” He let a deep sigh leave his chest as he took her face in his hands. “I’m going to marry you Y/N, in the backyard, back home with everyone there and then we’re gonna have a bunch of little red-headed babies, send them off to Hogwarts and argue over what house they’ll be sorted in.” He said, pulling a giggle from her which he reciprocated with a relieved smile.
“You want to marry me?” She asked as he wiped a stray tear from her eye with the pad of his thumb.
“I have since the day you agreed to date a bloody git like me.” He joked, pulling her into his chest. “It’s only you Y/N, it’s always been you, it’ll always be you, you’re it for me.” She buried her face into his jumper, forgetting about Jessica, forgetting about her doubts, just breathing in his scent, just feeling his lips on her hairline, just her and her Freddie.
taglist (join here!!)
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if your url is crossed out i could not tag you!!
#fred#fred weasley#fred weasly x reader#fred wealsey fic#fred wealsey one shot#fred wealsey series#fred weasley x y/n#fred weasley x you#fred weasley fluff#fred weasley angst#hp fic#hp
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Misunderstandings - Anakin x fem Reader (angst +fluff)
Masterlist
Thank you for the request @artiza-n ! 💕
Wc: 6.4k
Summary: Anakin and reader get sent to Naboo to guard Padme and Clovis during a debate and some misunderstandings ensue. Mostly jealous angst, some fluff at the end— happy ending bc we all need that right now.
Gif from @swprequels
“I still don’t understand why they need both of us,” you grumble, rubbing sleep out of your eyes as you walk out of the cruiser. The day is hot on Naboo, but grey and cloudy with a promise of rain later. The humidity makes your skin sticky, worsening your irritation.
“Think of it as a vacation,” Anakin pulls the luggage from the transport cubby, setting it on the ground beside him. “You watch over Clovis, and I’ll handle Padme. It should be a breeze.”
“Exactly. Which is why I don’t understand why they need both of us.”
You had just gotten back from a long and grueling siege on Pontoon, another one of those vast, endless desert planets in the Outer Rims. You’d really much rather be sitting in front of an air cooler right now, resting your tired bones and trying to forget the taste of sand.
“These are two very important Senators, Y/n,” Anakin waved off your attempt to help him with the luggage. “If anything happens to them at this debate, the Senate will lose important advocates for peace and the end of this war.”
You knew this, of course you did. Not that you’d completely agree with his statement-- Clovis always seemed a little shady to you, his morals seemingly scattered all over the place. You guessed that’s why the Council sent you, a simple marksman, to guard Clovis while the beloved freedom-fighter Padme Amidala got the most powerful Jedi to ever exist.
“Besides,” said Jedi nudged you, lips curling into a teasing smile. “Don’t you want to spend time with me?”
Of course you do. Between the war and separate guild or Council missions you’d both been sent on, neither of you had time to even breathe in the others’ direction for months. The only reason the Council was able to wrangle you onto this cruiser was because Anakin was going to be there. Not that you’d even be able to spend much time with him during the day, although you were aware that you’d be sharing a room in between the Senators you’d be protecting at night…
You and Anakin meet the Senators at the hull of the ship. They walk down the ramp side by side, heads held high and hands clasped in front of them. Their movements are smooth, like they’re gliding on water, and the heat doesn’t seem to bother either of them.
“Master Skywalker. Y/n. Thank you so much for being here, it is so courageous of the both of you to be looking out for us,” Padme stands before you, beautiful as ever in one of her many extravagant, expensive gowns. The headpiece woven through her hair sparkles in the midday light, the warmth of her eyes capturing the rays of the brilliant sun. “However, I must say that I hope your services are not needed. I’d much rather this debate go by smoothly than have any dangerous interruptions.”
“I can assure you, we’ll take care of any problems before they arrive. Leave the dirty work up to us,” Anakin returns her smile, charming as ever.
Anakin shoots you a glance and then follows her away, carrying multiple bags of luggage in each arm as Padme shows him where to put it. For such a small woman, she seemed to pack heavy. Unfortunately, this leaves you and Clovis to stand alone together, an awkward stillness settling before you.
“Um, Anakin has your luggage,” you yawn into your arm, gesturing to his receding form with the other. “I’m Y/n, and I’ll be your bodyguard for this debate.”
“You?” Clovis doesn’t smile, instead he scans you up and down with hawkish eyes. “You’re such a small thing. What could you possibly be able to do to protect me?”
It’s not said unkindly, but it still irks you. Your eyes narrow and you bite back a nasty retaliation for the sake of diplomacy. “You’ll find I’m pretty good with a blaster. The best, actually, according to the Jedi Council. That’s why they have me work with the Generals in the war.”
“Are you a General yourself?” Clovis begins to walk, heading toward the senate building. You follow at his side.
“Not exactly. They offered me the title, but I declined. I’m more of a freelancer, and once the war ends, I’ll go back to taking odd jobs. Besides, there’s no use in having an army if I don’t know what to do with it.”
“Humble. That’s admirable,” Clovis’s mouth tilts into something of a smile. “I, myself, could never turn down an army. Or the status, for that matter. You could be holding a lot of power if you pushed your way with the Jedi Council, you know.”
“My way?” you questioned. “I just told you, I don’t have a way--”
“And that’s your flaw,” he mused, chin still pointed up, never quite looking at you. “How curious-- your Jedi counterpart seems to have stolen all the ambition.”
You roll your eyes. You never had a thirst for power, or status, or influence, or any of that. Your power came from behind a blaster, when your focus was trained on a single target and your finger was glued to the trigger. One simple twitch of a muscle, and you could end a life from miles away. That was your power, and it was all you needed.
He is right about Anakin, you have to admit. He was always looking to be better, not just for himself, but for the good of others. You love that about it, in fact it’s one of your favorite qualities about him. Sometimes, though, you wished he could see that he didn’t have to try so hard all the time to believe he was enough.
The blast of cold air that hits you as you enter the senate building wrenches you out of your thoughts. It whisks away the perspiration that had built up on your skin, cooling your body and calming your mood almost magically. The sounds of your collective footsteps tap along the glossy marble floor, echoing throughout the empty chamber.
“Aren’t you going to ask what we’re doing here?” Clovis leans against his podium, marked with a nametag spelling his name. Next to him is your seat, and on Clovis’s other side is Padme, followed by Anakin on the end. A cold dread fills your veins, just now realizing how boring tonight’s debate is going to be.
You sigh inwardly, tracing the engravings of your nametag with the tip of your finger. “My job isn’t to ask questions, it’s to observe.”
“Well, observe away,” he pushes himself off the podium. “Although I don’t think it will be very entertaining.”
He’s right. You sit in your seat, legs crossed on top of your podium as you inspect your nails. It’s been three hours since you’ve arrived, the sun is setting, and all Clovis has done is stroll around the debate room, muttering to himself and pondering through his position. You’re bored out of your mind. Pulling out your holocom, you wonder if Anakin’s situation is any better.
“Y/n?” he picks up a long moment after you send the call, and his face projects blue before you. It’s loud where he is, and his eyes are looking at something else.
“Where are you?” you question. He sounds like he’s a party, but you know that can’t be true. “Where’s Padme?”
“She’s with me,” Anakin tilts his head, signalling that she’s sitting in front of him. “We’re at a restaurant getting dinner. I was just going to ask-- did you and Clovis go somewhere to eat yet?”
You drop your legs from the podium and lean in close to the com, speaking quiet so Clovis can’t hear. “No, he’s barely said a word to me since we got here. He’s been walking around the debate room all afternoon, just talking to himself.”
“You think he’s nervous for tonight?”
“Maybe,” you spare a glance at him. He’s staring at the domed ceiling, as if he’s counting the pillars coming out of it. “Or maybe he’s just psycho.”
“Oh, Clovis knows what he’s doing,” a femine voice interjects. Anakin’s eyes shoot forward again, immediately smiling as Padme speaks. “His pre-debate ritual is long and gruelling-- I should have warned you. He’s simply getting into his headspace, that’s all.”
“How long does it usually take?” you mumble.
“It shouldn’t be much longer. Make sure he eats beforehand, otherwise he’ll be crabby during the debate. And trust me, you don’t want to have to handle a crabby Clovis.”
Both Padme and Anakin laugh at this, and you force yourself to smile along. “Yeah, I’ll go see what he’s up to now.”
“Good,” Anakin says, momentarily drowned out by an uproar of cheers behind him. “We should get going, too. Padme needs to get dressed for the debate. See you soon.”
Anakin ends the call, and you’re left wondering how exactly the topic of dressing Padme came up.
Shoving down your irritation and self-pity, you pocket your com and stand from your seat. Clovis’s head whips toward you like you had pulled a blaster on him.
“What?”
“It’s getting late,” you stretch your arms over your head, working out the kinks and aches from sitting so long. “I was wondering if you were hungry at all.”
“I can’t eat before a debate,” Clovis looks almost angry for a second, and then he glances down at his watch. His expression smooths into one of urgency. “Ah, we should head to the apartments. It’s time to get ready.”
The night is still warm, and the sidewalk drips with a rainstorm that you missed while you were in the senate building. The fresh air is nice, though, and you breathe in the smell of sweet flowers and savory restaurant food. The grumble in your stomach is hard to ignore, but you know you’ll manage.
Clovis leads you all the way to his suite, the temporary apartment that sits in conjunction with yours and Anakin’s, and Padme’s on the other side. Staying in this apartment complex made more sense rather than finding separate housing units, as keeping everyone together would aid in ensuring their safety.
Padme’s mansion would have been a nice stay, you think, but these apartment sweets are also quite luxurious. You walk into the master bedroom to find a formal, dark blue gown laid out for you on the bed. Next to it is a rumpled space where you assume Anakin’s suit had been, but instead there’s a note and a box.
Padme wanted to get to the senate building early, so we’re probably going to just miss you. Too bad, I won’t get to help you into this sexy blue dress. Maybe I can help you out of it later.
You laugh softly, smoothing your thumb over the inked-on smiley face before finishing the note.
I’m not sure if you had time to get anything to eat, so I got you something while we were out. See you soon.
A
You don’t need an “I love you” scrawled into the paper in order to know he wanted to add it. That would have been too risky, and there was no way you’d be able to make an excuse if anyone were to find it. Still, you rip up the note and throw it in the trash before opening the box underneath. Your nose is instantly filled with the smell of food, still warm, and you sit next to the blue dress, digging in unceremoniously.
You scarf down as much of the food as you can and then store the rest in the fridge before getting to work on making yourself presentable. You have to look put together, yet not so much that you stand out. You slip a couple of silver clasps into your hair and do your makeup, opting for a bold lip color because you don’t have much time to do anything fancy with your eyes. You’re running short on time-- you know this because of the knock on your door, and then the irritated sound of Clovis:
“Y/n, we have to leave now or we’re going to be late. You know how bad it would be to arrive late to this event?”
You stand in front of the mirror, desperately reaching behind you to grasp at the zipper of your dress. It would be so much easier if Anakin was here to reach it for you, but you make due and quickly pull it up. The dress is form-fitting and flows down into a puddle around your feet. A bit long, as you opted not to wear heels in case something went awry, so you bunch the skirt up in your fists and jog to the door.
“My apologies,” you open the door to find Clovis, now dressed in a pristine black and white suit with his hair gelled back. “I was making sure I had my equipment all in order.”
Clovis ignores your excuse, eyes instantly moving to take in your figure. You could swear they blow open wide for a fraction of a second before he composes himself, clearing his throat and masking his approval with his usual grim expression.
“You clean up quite elegantly. Now, we should head to the lobby, the limousine is waiting for us.”
…
You’re not sure what the point of a limousine is, as the walk from the apartment buildings to the senate building is 10 minutes tops. Probably for formalities, you decide, as Clovis helps you out of the vehicle. The building that had been vacant only a couple hours earlier is now swarming with Senators, all dressed in lavish, extravagant gowns. Everyone is holding a flute of some sort of drink, and they congregate in small groups, making small talk before the debate starts.
Clovis wastes no time with socializing, and beelines for his seat.
You hang back, searching the crowd for Anakin. Without heels, many people tower over you and it’s hard to focus with the deafening sound of chatter filling your ears. But you’re trained for this, have spent your whole life blocking out the unnecessary, so you hone into your patience and scan the crowd closer.
There.
You’d recognize that head of golden-brown curls anywhere, even if it was tamed down for this event. He’s standing tall among the Senators, eyes gleaming bright as he engages a whole crowd of them in some wily story. He and Padme look at each other and laugh, his hand on her shoulder and her hand finding his waist. Your blood suddenly turns hot, and you push your way through the crowd to make it to them.
If you could, you would march right up and pull him away from all those greedy stares. They’re practically drooling all over him, and Padme’s hand is still on his waist. But you know better-- you can’t let anyone know you and Anakin are familiar, so you stand at the edge of the crowd, meeting Anakin’s eye.
You glare at his face, then at Padme’s hand, then back to him. His eyes narrow into a warning, extremely fleeting, and then he continues on charming the crowd. You know what he wanted to say-- it means nothing. It doesn’t stop the heat from blossoming in the pit of your stomach, the irritated glare you shoot Padme before looking down.
Way to stay under the radar, you think, slipping away from the crowd and deciding it’s better to keep your eyes on Clovis than get angry over a move on your boyfriend that was probably innocent.
Clovis is sitting at his seat, still as stone, surveying the crowd before him.
“You nervous?” you take your seat beside him.
“Not at all.”
“Good. You’ve been preparing all afternoon, I think it’d be ridiculous if you still doubted yourself.”
“You… have faith in me.”
“Of course,” your eyes softened at the vulnerability in his statement. “You’re a powerful Senator.”
He huffed, the crack in his green eyes immediately cementing over. “I know.”
And, there he is. Back to being gruff and dismissive.
It’s quiet for a moment longer, but you’re okay with that. Small talk is not an interest of yours either, and you’d much rather sip on the flute of drink that a servant had given you than join the crowd on the floor.
Unfortunately, you have trouble wrenching your eyes away from Padme and Anakin, who are still surrounded by drooling Senators. Padme looks like an angel, dressed in a floor length gown spun out of gold thread that you’re pretty sure came directly from the sun. It shimmers and sparkles as she moves, standing out like a beacon of light among the rest of the room. She is radiant, with a matching headpiece that glitters like a chandelier, the jewels braided in and out of her chocolate curls. Even her makeup is minimal yet blindingly beautiful, with a gold shimmer staining her eyelids and cheekbones that reflect the warmth of her topaz eyes.
“She’s gorgeous, isn’t she?” Clovis murmurs next to you, so quiet you almost don’t hear it.
“Who? Padme?”
“I believe she’s taking quite a liking to the Jedi.”
Heat sparks in your blood again. The fact that even Clovis notices how handsy Padme is being… then again, it’s a known fact that Clovis and Padme have a history, and he could just be reading too far into things out of jealousy.
“You shouldn’t call him that,” you choose to ignore his concerns. “Anyone could be listening.”
“You see that smile? That’s the smile she only ever gave me. I wonder if she even knows she’s doing it…”
“Clovis, Anakin isn’t allowed to form attachments. You have nothing to worry about.”
“It’s not him that bothers me,” he admits. “It’s her. Look. Look at the way she leans into him when she laughs.”
You take his advice and… now that he says it, she does get a little too close for your liking. Every time Anakin finishes a punchline, the crowd erupts in laughter and Padme joins in, bracing herself by gripping onto his arms and grinning into his neck. He catches her, ever the gentlemen, but he’s smiling too.
It’s a little more than innocent, and you can’t tell who’s fault it is. But that doesn’t help the jealousy steadily rising in your chest.
“The debate should be starting soon,” is all you say, leaning back in your seat and scowling into your flute of drink.
The only thing keeping you rooted to the seat instead of launching out of your chair to rip Padme away from Anakin by the hair was the fact that you know you’re the one who’s going to be sharing a bed with him tonight-- not her.
You’re just hoping he even makes it back to your bed. Or will poor Padme need help with something else that requires Anakin’s doting attention?
A bell rings just on time, signaling for the Senators to take their seats. Anakin leads Padme over, arms hooked around each other, and she smiles at you as she approaches.
“Y/n, you look wonderful,” she whispers, and then slides into the seat between Clovis and Anakin.
Your cheeks burn in shame. How can you harbor such awful feelings toward her when she was so sweet? But the anger is worsened by the compliment she had just given you-- it’s one thing to be drop-dead stunning, why does she have to be so kind, too? What are you to compare?
After tonight, Anakin’s probably going to think you are so difficult-- always complaining, always tired, never as pretty or gentle or kind. You don’t have a laugh that twinkles like wind-chimes, or eyes that reflect the light like soft glowing pools of honey. If she is the sun, you are just a cold, hard, chunk of ashen moonrock.
The debate goes on for an eternity. You zone out for a lot of it, stewing in your anger and drowning in self-deprecating thoughts. A few times you’re brought to the brink of tears before you remind yourself you’re here on a mission, and throw yourself into scanning every nook and cranny for something that could be amiss. Eventually, a break is ordered.
Senators begin to rise from their podiums to stretch their legs, including Padme. She tells Anakin she’s going to the washroom, and your eyes zero in on the fingers lingering on his arm as she leaves. You stand as well, meaning to walk a little and stretch your legs, and Anakin follows you.
“Padme’s right,” he catches up to you easily. “You do look wonderful. Blue really is your color.”
You stop by the open window, breathing in the fresh air as you search his eyes for truth. Does he truly mean it? Does he look at you with that same light he had looked at Padme with? Or is he only saying it because he has to? Because he’s used to complimenting you because you’re his girlfriend?
“What? What’s the matter?”
“Nothing,” you lower your gaze, picking at the marble stone engravings of the windowsill.
“Y/n,” Anakin lowers his voice. He’s concerned now, picking up on how upset you are. “I said you look beautiful. What’s the problem?”
“No, you said I look wonderful. It’s different than beautiful.” You mean to leave it there, but can’t help but add, grumbling under your breath, “Padme looks beautiful.”
It’s immature. You know it as soon as you say it, but for some reason you can’t stop yourself. You just want Anakin to take more notice of how strong Padme’s coming on to him, to assure you that it means nothing. You know it means nothing, but you still need that confirmation.
“She does,” he says, and your heart drops. You look up at him, and he’s staring back with an intensity you can’t decipher. “She’s a Senator, Y/n, this is her debate. Of course she has to look beautiful.”
“She’s more beautiful,” the words fall from your lips and taste like poison.
“What’s this about?” Anakin’s voice is dripping in irritation. Once hearing it himself, he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. When he opens them, he speaks again in a softer tone. “Why are you comparing yourself to Padme?”
Gah, even the sound of her name coming from his mouth is like nails on a chalkboard. But you decide to do the first smart thing you have all evening, and take a lesson from him. You breathe deeply and bite down on your anger before answering.
“I’m not trying to,” you admit, eyes falling from his face to trace the exposed skin of his neck. “I just-- she’s flirting with you.”
“It’s harmless.”
“I-- I know. But…”
“It still bothers you. You’re jealous.”
“I have nothing to be jealous about,” even saying this, you can hear the lie in your voice. You repeat the statement, more to yourself, trying to believe it. He’s yours-- for now. He could just as easily be Padme’s. What if he wants to be Padme’s?
“Look,” Anakin takes another grounding breath, then fits a finger beneath your chin, tilting it up to look at him. “I can see you’re trying to think rationally, so I’m not going to tell you that you’re being ridiculous. But… you’re being ridiculous.”
“Wow. Thanks.”
“You have to understand, I do not like Padme like you’re thinking. I--” he cuts himself off, eyes flitting around the room before leaning in close to whisper in your ear. “I love you.”
Goosebumps erupt all over your skin, making you shiver. His lips ghosting over your ear, the whispered promise of his devotion to you… suddenly, you feel very stupid.
“Okay,” you accept, and the bells ring again, signalling everyone to take their seats. You head on over with him, but not before putting as much heart into your next words. “I’m sorry for getting jealous.”
“It’s okay,” he gives you the first warm smile of the night, smoothing your hair down quickly before breaking off to take his own seat.
You sit next to Clovis, considerably calmer, replaying Anakin’s whispered “I love you” over and over in your head, the touch of his gentle hand in your hair. There was no need to make such a fuss, and honestly you were upset with yourself for ruining the night. You decide to make another smart decision for the night, and push away all of the negative thoughts to the deepest corner of your mind. No more, not tonight-- instead, you would focus on a way to make it up to him for being so ridiculous, and to thank him for being so patient with you.
It’s as you’re planning the rest of your night out, that you see Clovis’s knee bouncing under the podium. You know his time to speak is coming up soon, and his actions betray his mind. He’s such a liar. He is nervous.
“You’ve got this,” you tell him, reaching onto the podium to give his hand a squeeze. His palms are clammy, and he looks at you like you’ve struck him.
“I know I do,” he spits, but doesn’t move his hand from underneath yours. “It’s just pre-performance jitters.”
His next words are so quiet, you almost don’t catch them.
“It doesn’t help that I have two gorgeous women sitting next to me to witness this all.”
Now it’s your turn to look like you’ve been struck. You know he means for you to hear it, otherwise he wouldn’t have said it. Anakin seems to be thinking the same thing, as you can see him give Clovis a sidelong glance just as Padme takes the seat between them again.
“I-- um… we’re rooting for you,” you fumble. “No need to get nervous now.”
Clovis blows out a long breath, and then covers your hand that’s squeezing his palm with his other. “Thank you, Y/n. You’ve truly been so patient and accommodating this whole night. I must find a way to pay you back afterwards.”
“Oh, there’s no need--” your words are cut off as the delegates call for order, and then the debate resumes. You don’t miss the way Anakin’s back stiffens in his seat.
Clovis works up a nervous sweat in the minutes leading up to his speech, but when he gets up, he delivers it without a flaw. Everyone claps, and then Padme goes. You clap along once she’s finished, trying not to calculate if Anakin is clapping harder or faster for her than anyone else. He’s not… but you just had to be sure.
There never seemed to be any threat for the entire night, except for one instance. A young man stood by the door, eyes shifting around for a moment too long to be casual, and Clovis seemed to notice as well.
“Where, exactly, is that equipment you were speaking of earlier?”
“There’s a strap on my thigh, and it holds my blaster to it. Look,” you pull your skirt back to reveal your leg up to your thigh, where the tip of your blaster peaks out. “See, nothing to worry about.”
It doesn’t even cross your mind that Anakin would notice, or that he’d even mind.
Finally, the debate ends, and the senate room is dismissed. You let out a long breath, ready to just get out of this dress and relax in the suite with Anakin now. However, you stand to leave your seat but Clovis is in your way.
“Y/n, like I said before… I must show my gratitude for your services. Please, let me buy you dinner.”
“Oh-- Oh geez… um.... I can’t,” your eyes flit from Clovis to Anakin, who’s standing behind him. He’s got his back turned, bidding farewell to the new friends he made, but you know for sure that he’s listening. “I really need to go to bed, we’re leaving early in the morning.”
“You can come to my suite, we can order room service. They’re right next to each other… besides, you can always just stay over at mine for the night. There’s room.”
That tone. Those eyes. You know what he’s insinuating, and it sure as hell isn’t just dinner.
“Clovis, I’d love to, but I really can’t.”
“Oh. Okay.”
The green cracks of his eyes are hardening again, the soft daisies growing from them being wrenched out in clenched fists and stomped under a boot. You want to stop them from freezing over in that insufferable ice again, and decide it might be nice to humor him for a job well done tonight. After all, he was a lot kinder to you than you thought he’d ever be, and part of you likes being one of the few people on his good side.
“How about I walk back with you to the apartments? We can do that much.”
Clovis smiles, and holds out an arm. “I’ll take it.”
As Clovis escorts you out of the debate room, you turn to look back at Anakin. He’s ushering Padme out of the crowds, staring after you as you leave. He doesn’t smile, or wave, or do anything really. Except look angry.
A sudden ball of nervousness forms in the pit of your stomach. Oh no. Offering to do this was a mistake, that much is becoming clear with every step you take with Clovis latched onto your arm. You can feel Anakin’s eyes burning into your back the entire way out of the senate building, until you’re on the streets of Naboo and he’s off in a limousine with Padme.
Of course he’s going to be angry at you now. You were mad at him for allowing Padme to flirt with him, and now he’s going to think you’re making a move on Clovis to get back at him for it. Even though that’s not at all what’s happening… Oh how the tables have turned.
You’re jittery the whole walk back. Clovis tries to make conversation, but you only offer him short, clipped answers. Really, you should have shut down his advances in the debate room. No matter that you pitied him for being rejected by Padme and yourself, you should have said no. You didn’t owe him anything. But here you are, and now you are going to suffer the consequences from Anakin when you get back to your room.
“Are you sure you can’t stop in? Not even just for a drink?” Clovis asks as you make it to the top of the stairs. You turn the corner, and Anakin is leaning against your apartment door, arms crossed, clearly waiting for you.
“Uhh,” you unwind your arm from around Clovis’s. “I really can’t. Sorry.”
Clovis follows your gaze, and sees Anakin. His tone turns steely. “Is it because of that Jedi?”
“No, oh my-- no!” you feign the most incredulous expression you can, nerves growing more frenzied as you grow closer to your apartment door. “I really am just so tired. Please Clovis, I have to go.”
“Y/n, it doesn’t have to be like this--”
“You’re right,” a deep voice cuts in. “It doesn’t.”
Anakin takes the arm that Clovis refused to let go of, and slips it out of his grasp. Thankfully, for Clovis’s sake, he lets him. Anakin pushes you behind him and stands before Clovis, towering over him by a couple inches.
“It was a pleasure serving you and Senator Amidala. Hopefully we can work together again soon. Have a good night”
Each word that comes from his lips are dripping with venom. Clovis grows red in the face, and you can tell he’s trying hard not to retaliate. In the end, he decides to turn and stalk back to his own apartment door.
Once it slams shut, Anakin turns to you. You meet his eyes with the most innocent expression you can put on.
“None of that,” he hisses, and steps past you to walk into the apartment.
“Oh, come on!” you follow close behind, closing the door and jogging to catch up with him. He’s standing before the bed, roughly loosening his tie. “Anakin, please don’t be mad. I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Really? How am I supposed to believe that after what happened earlier?”
“Yes, okay, I admit I was jealous of you and Padme. But I got over it! I swear I wasn’t trying to get you back for it, I promise. I wouldn’t do that to you.”
Anakin pulls the buttons off his shirt so hard, you’re afraid they might break. Suddenly, he is shirtless, and so very mad, and so very tall… and muscular… and… wow…
“You can’t even look me in the eye when you say that,” he argues, stopping to stand before you. You wrench your eyes away from his toned midriff and meet his eyes, which are blazing with hurt and anger. A warmth is rising in your veins-- a different kind than earlier-- but it’s beat out with something stronger. Guilt.
“I’m sorry,” you tell him, trying so desperately to ignore the heat that’s radiating off his chest. “I really am. Clovis was just… kinder than I expected him to be--”
“Was he? Was he kind when he had you sit in silence all afternoon in the senate building? Was he kind when he refused to let you eat? When he guilt-tripped you into spending time with him?”
“That’s not exactly what happened,” you cross your arms and size him up. “And you’re not totally innocent either, you know.”
“Really?” Anakin cocks an eyebrow at you, sitting down on the bed roughly. He leans back on his arms, daring you to continue.
“You let Padme flirt with you, and you never told her to stop. You could have set some boundaries, told her to back off a little...”
“And you could have told me you were leaving with Clovis before gathering your skirts and skipping away,” Anakin bites back.
“I wasn’t planning to! Anakin, please, both of us made mistakes tonight. Can we just agree on that?”
He frowns, eyes flickering over your still-dressed form. He motions for you to come closer and turn around, so you do. Gentle fingers work at the zip on your back, dragging it down to free you from the constraints. You remember the note he wrote from earlier, how he couldn’t wait to take the dress off of you, and grow disappointed at how the night had gone. This was not the context you had been expecting.
The way his hands linger on your waist, you know he’s thinking the same thing.
“Okay. We both made mistakes.” You feel his soft curls against the bare skin of your back as rests his forehead against you. You hold your dress up in the front so as not to expose yourself. “I’m sorry for letting Padme flirt with me. I should have put an end to it-- I know it hurt you to watch.”
“It did,” you whisper. “But I’m also sorry. For getting so jealous even though you never accepted her advances, and for making it seem like I was trying to get revenge. It wasn’t my intention.”
A soft “it’s okay” is kissed into your back. His hands grip your waist, turning you in his grasp. He’s looking up at you now, hair mussed up and eyes wary. “You good?”
“Yeah. You?”
“Yes.”
“Okay.”
What were you guys doing? At the end of the day, it’s you and him. Padme is out of the picture, and so is Clovis. Everything is alright, and that fuss you both put up throughout the night was virtually pointless.
Looking into his eyes, the ones you love so much and could never picture yourself ever parting from, suddenly this whole thing seems elementary. How terrible, disastrous, and ironic this night turned out. Replaying the events in your head, you find a smile begin to crack at your lips. Anakin can’t keep a straight face either, the ridiculousness of it all beginning to catch up with you both. You begin to laugh, and he follows, burying his head in your stomach as you hug around his neck.
“We must be back in training school,” you giggle, feeling his shoulders shake beneath you. “How pathetic of us.”
“Ahh,” he groans, suddenly wrenching you off your feet and onto the bed on top of him. He nuzzles his face into your neck, pulling you as close to him as possible. “Let’s just forget this night ever happened. It was dreadful and embarrassing.”
“As far as I’m concerned, I was never even here.”
“Me neither,” he presses a line of warm kisses down your neck, stopping at the strap of your dress. “Let’s get this off. Do you still have your blaster on you?”
You pat the metal strapped onto your thigh. “Locked and loaded.”
“Well, gee, thanks for telling me. I definitely didn’t want to get my head blown off.”
“Safety’s on, wisecrack,” you help him shrug your dress off, kicking it from your legs and off the end of the bed. You unclasp the band from around your thigh and distribute the blaster onto the nightstand.
“I’m the wisecrack,” you don’t miss the way Anakin’s voice deepens, attention suddenly captured by the bare skin of your body beneath him. His eyes follow the path his fingers are tracing up your leg. “Careful, or I’ll have to report that to the Council.”
“For what? Being right?”
“For creating conflict of interest on the job,” his fingers skim the soft flesh of your upper thighs, tickling their way past the curve of your hips, the dip of your waist, up and up and up… “It’s terribly naughty of you.”
His words are teasing and corny, but somehow the deeper insinuation of them still cause your cheeks to burn red.
“Anakin,” your voice is hoarse, causing your blush to deepen. His long fingers cup your chin, keeping your lips ghost over his as his other hand pulls the silver clasps from your hair. “I need a shower.”
“I can meet you in there?”
You clutch at his shoulders, bringing him forward to close that gap between your lips. His mouth is warm against yours, pliant and soft and generous. It’s everything you’ve been yearning for all night, all this time you’ve been apart. The smell of him, taste of him, feel of him— you could never get enough.
“I’ll save you a spot.”
#anakin skywalker#anakin skywalker x fem reader#anakin angst#anakin fluff#anakin skywalker fic#jealous anakin#soft anakin#Anakin x fem reader smut#anakin fic
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Friend of a Friend
Requested by: “Ever since I read your ghost!reader fic I can’t get over my head how ghostbur and ghost!reader would interact lmao all :) and :D while everyone around them would be horrified imagine reader dying to his explosive but as ghost both of them don’t remember and both ghosts are super buddy buddy only for everyone to be “oh that’s a yikes” I’m sorry but I had to get this out bc do you see what your writing is doing?? It’s *chefs kiss* you are doing an amazing job <3″
platonic! wilbur soot x ghost!reader
trigger warnings: none
premise: you find a strange blue sheep while wandering in the woods, and then, days later, a strange fellow ghost
(kinda a drabble?)
{also I’m aware I am in no way consistent with the laws of my ghosts, no i didn’t ask you to judge about it}
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You drifted through the woods outside of new L’manburg, humming an old tune, as you gathered flowers to brighten up the little house Phil had helped you build.
Picking another sprig of blue lilac, you froze, hearing a shuffling behind you, “Who’s there?”
The shuffling continued and then a loud, “Baa-aah!”
You turned, jumping upon seeing the blue sheep, “Oh, hello there!”
The sheep brayed again, moving closer and nuzzling their face into your basket of blue flowers.
You smiled, reading the nametag that floated above his head, “Hello Friend!”
Gently carding your hands through their wool you looked around, “Are you lost?”
Friend looked up at you, almost nodding.
“That’s alright,” You said cheerily searching through your inventory, “Look here Friend! I have a lead! You can come and stay with me and meet Philza! Philza’s real nice you know.”
Friend ‘bahhed’ at the mention of the man, and you nodded, “He helped me build my house!”
You slipped the lead around there head carefully, glancing up at the sky, “We better hurry now Friend, I get all strange in the rain, and your wool will take a long time to dry.”
You hurried home, leading friend along as clouds filled the sky, recounting stories about what you could remember from when you were living.
~~
“And we would go on adventures all the time!” You laughed, fixing the flowers in the vase by the window.
Friend nudged at your leg, looking to the door, “You wanna go outside?”
The sheep nodded, so you turned to go find the lead, “Alright, lets go get you some grass to eat.”
Slipping the lead over their head you opened the door, showing Friend the way down the path, and over the little community sat above the crater to the bank of real ground near the hto dog van.
“Friend?” A voice called.
Friend looked up from where they were eating grass, turning towards the newcomer excitedly.
You looked at the ghost who had approached you, confused, you recognized the torn yellow sweater and red beanie, as he smiled, “Excuse me? I think you found Friend!”
“You know Friend?” You questioned.
He nodded, holding up the dye in his hand, “Friend likes blue!”
You smiled, “They do! I like blue too! I found them while I was getting flowers.”
“Did they just come right up and nuzzle the blue?” He asked, squatting down in front of the sheep to pet them.
“Mhhhm.” You giggled.
“That’s how I found them too!” He said excitedly standing up, “I’m Ghostbur!”
“I’m (y/n)!” You offered him Friends lead, and he smiled wider.
“Any friend of Friend is a friend of mine! Are you dead too?”
“Mhhm. There was a fire or something- I don’t really remember. Like one second I was watching Tubbo’s speech- and then I was gone!”
He nodded happily, “I have trouble remembering things too. But I remembered how I died, Phil was there, and then Phil was stabbing me. Have you met Phil?”
“Phil helped me build my house!”
~~
A few days later you and Ghostbur met in the same spot, hanging out with Friend, when Phil happened to be passing by, “Oh, hello Ghostbur, hello (y/n), I didn’t realize you too knew each other.”
“You didn’t say hello to Friend Phil.” Ghostbur whispered.
“Hello Friend,” Phil struggled to keep the hint of annoyance out of his voice, looking over the two with concern, knowing how mad at Wilbur (y/n) had been at Wilbur, how they’d died trying to find him before the blast, “I didn’t realize you knew each other.”
“We met cause of Friend!” You supplied, motioning to the sheep in question.
“Friend of a Friend!” Ghostbur offered, causing you both to roar with laughter.
You said, “There my best friends now!”
Phil tried for a tight lipped smile, muttering, “Now.”
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RANDOM SEIJOH HCs ACCORDING TO GIGI
a/n: this is a thing i cooked up between doing trig exam and ap gov review akdsjfldskfj
IM PRETTY SURE I ALREADY USED THIS GIF BUT IM WANTING TO RE-DO MY ENTIRE PAGE AND MAKING BANNERS SO THIS IS A TEMPORARY THING AJDJDJJD ALSO I DONT KNOW HOW TO DO THE KEEP READING THING ON THE APP BYE
oikawa def listens to indie music just bc he wants to feel unique and the 'iM diFfErENt fRoM oTHeR gUrLs' vibes
i FIRMLY BELIEVE IWAIZUMI HAJIME IS ONE OF THOSE PEOPLE WHO CHOMPS ON HIS ICE CREAM BC HE LIKES TO FEEL THE COLD ON HIS TEETH AKSJSKSKSK
meanwhile kunimi eats a kitkat like its pizza just CHOMP
makki caNNOT sleep without a pillow between his thighs LIKE LISTEN he has 2 sisters and they all told him its so comfortable and at first he was like,, ??,, then he tried and now cant sleep without it
bUT MATTSUN LIKES TO SLEEP WITH PILLOWS SURROUNDING HIM bc it makes him feel safe and like there are two body pillows on either side of him and hes kinda trapped in the middle aksjskdk
when kyo was younger, he was really short and although he had other pants, he loved this one pair but they were really long on him and he wore it all the time and the part of the pants that touched the ground is torn in shreds
kindaichi steps on the sofa before sitting LIKE puts one foot on the cushion then the other until hes literally standing on the couch before folding to sit with his knees up to his chest (i do this)
watari sniffs his food before eating it no matter if its something he eats all the time or something new, he still sniffs it either way
yahaba is really particular with his feet and he likes to get a really big tupperware (duh one only meant for his feet) and fill it up with warm almost boiling water and he just soaks them
oikawa has sleep paralysis and he oftens hallucinates about aliens in the corner of his room
kunimi does this thing where he makes weird noises with his mouth like sounds of his mouth opening LIKE when youre tastinf something new and you do that sound with your tongue (I DUNNO HOW TO DESCRIBE IT AJDKSKKD)
makki bends his knees just to crack his ankles
iwa sneezes a ton but he has those sneezes where theyre quiet that you dont even notice or really loudly that it just echoes throughout the gym
kyo sleeps with one sock on bc his feet gets cold easily but both socks make him feel really hot so only one sock is perfect
for a tall and hunk of a guy, mattsun is a very light walker like his footsteps are very light and if he wants to, it can be practically silent
watari actually hates vegetables ajssksksk he particularly hates zucchini, eggplants, any vegetables that are that shape
kindaichi likes to stick or lean against walls because to him, they feel cold and can decrease his body heat
oikawa stands and places his feet at V position like \/ instead of ll because his sister did ballet and he was taught that was the right way of standing and it was considered graceful
yahaba has a fear of cactuses
mattsun does so badly in the heat because his body temp runs so high and the hot surroundings make him feel so uncomfortable and so he takes a lot of cold showers
iwa cannot swim like he freaks out immediately when his toetips can no longer feel the bottom and he panics with thoughts of drowning
watari has really small feet that he still buys big kids shoes to save money
kyotani considered playing baseball because he thought baseball bats were cool but he got angry and threw tantrum after missing his first pitch
iwa chomps on a whole raw chili while eating ramen akskksks
oikawa actually hates sweets bc when he was younger, he had cavities and iwa showed him a cartoon of cavities eating his teeth and will make him toothless
kindaichi really really likes hugs but hes too awkward to ask them even from his parents
yahaba chomps on mints so he goes through boxes of them in a week
i feel like theres a boy in the team who doesnt brush their teeth everyday and rubs a towel on their teeth to make it look clean and take mints to hide their bad breath
iwaizumi is actually iron deficient so he bruises super super fast and he even developed iron defiency anemia when he was younger bc his parents didnt catch on which caused him to be put on strong medication for months and still takes it now
WAIT,, OIKAWA IS LACTOSE INTOLERANT BUT HE LIKES MILK SO HE EATS MILK BREAD TO MAKE HIM FEEL NOT SO BAD OR GUILTY OF CONSUMING STRAIGHT DAIRY
seijoh four bonding time is watching gordom ramsey shows and yelling and screaming 'YEA! EXACTLY!' as if theyre also cooking genuises
watari used to eat grapes all the time until his mom got worried and told him if he doesnt stop, he will eventually turn into one. he only eats it every few weeks
when he was younger, kunimi cried because he had befriended a chicken on a trip to a farm and his mom took him to eat fried chicken after and he thought it was Chicky (his chicken friend :"))
kyotani used to stick out his tongue when it was raining so he could taste the raindrops. they taste better than bottled water
one time, during a seijoh sleepover, they dared oikawa to wear his sisters old uniform, skirt and all, and it backfired so everyone turned red and couldnt look at him in the face
their pregame ritual is touching each other's shoe tips
they tried doing yoga at yahaba's house before by watching yoga youtube videos but everyone ended up having to go to the chiropractor after (how did makki even turn into the human pretzel?)
the local gym gets so scared when they see the team coming through the doors bc these men are so LOUD like they HYPE EACH OTHER UP SO MUCH THEYRE SO ANNOYING AKSKSKDK
also never take them to an all you can eat sushi place. if you do, bring them earlier of the day like 30 mins after opening time so the cooks can cook enough for them without running out of ingredients (even then sometimes they still run out)
oikawa used to eat his mom's roses from her garden because he thought it would make his farts smell good like roses
takahiro is a surprisingly good artist like he draws really cool action fighting scenes in the corner of his papers and stuff
in my work: it's canon that iwa is half filo and his nanay used to dress him up in a barong all the time during halloween bc she wanted him to showcase his heritage
yahaba drinks a lot of milk because he hopes to one day grow strong and bulky like the 3rd years instead of being seen as a pretty boy
kindaichi's mom is a hairstylist and she always scolds him for using a lot of gel bc she's always the one who washes his hair
makki never learned how to do taxes and hes had the government knocking on his door a handful of times (BOKUTO AKKDJSKKS)
kyo has a dog: a chiweenie
there's someone on the team who wears those socks with individual pockets for toes
their pinterest is so different from what they look like for example, mattsun has a board of different flower decorations and arrangements
kunimi throws up during intense horror movies
watari's celeb crush is emma watson
the team alternates from different music genres like from ateez and bts to mxmtoon and beach bunny
they still dont know how to pronounce camila cabello's name
theyre all active in social media but only oikawa is on it 24/7 and in all platforms while the others have insta and snap
mattsun has twins as little siblings and he used to get them mixed up all the time that he used to draw a sharpie dot on the girl's forehead to determine she was his sister
watari hates sitting on the floor bc his butt bone hurts really easily so he can only sit on cushions for long periods of time
the team was supposed to have a party but everyone didnt know what to bring so they proved they shared the same braincell by bringing the same thing: a box of pizza
makki's an old soul and prefers to play records on a record player or watch old movies
kyo is surprisingly good at giving massages because he really pushed hard on those tense muscles
kindaichi knows how to crack necks so everyone goes to him a lot to do it (a friend of mine does this and can i say its terrifying yet so good?)
the only one who has a license is matsukawa and thats because granny needs to go to the doctor a lot and he hates her walking by herself and cabs are expensive
kyotani and yahaba are actually,,, lowkey close,,, not like best friends but theyre nice to each other and they got a stick and poke together (yahaba's was: :) while kyo's was: >:))
watari has a collection of mangas (some bl maybe 👀)
WARNING SAD: mattsun’s future job is a funeral person right? he ends up taking care of granny’s funeral free of charge and he had to take a week off because it was really painful for him
oikawa learned spanish SUPER fast to the point he forgets japanese sometimes but there are moments where he forgets both languages and hes just,,,, ???
makki’s unemployed yea but he rooms with mattsun in exchange of cooking because makki’s surprisingly good at cooking
iwa is practically the nutritionist of the team because he knows everything about proteins, carbs, iron, and needed vitamins so they all go to him to know what to eat and what they need
kunimi has lots and lots of shoes but usually only wears 2
kindaichi has a habit of pretending hes chewing gum even though he doesnt have gum, his mouth just chomps and moves with air akasldfjkf
there was a clown phenomenon in america but in their city, they had a mascots and seijoh 4 went around scaring kids :”(
oikawa never manspreads he gets too insecure to spread out like that akdjfkd
kyotani can easily sleep anywhere like he would be standing and just fall asleep or he sleeps with his eyes open
yahaba’s parents own a restaurant somewhere in the city and he works there sometimes
IM REALLY GOING TOO MUCH ABOUT THIS YALL AKSDJFKL
SORRY IM WRITING TOO MUCH I FEEL BAD THAT I HAVENT UPDATED BUT IM IN A CAR RIDE RN AND I WAS ABLE TO WRITE AGAIN AND MY EXAMS HAVE FINISHED THIS WEEK IMMA CRY
PLEASE, FEEL FREE TO REPLY WITH ANY OTHER HCS YOU GUYS KNOW OF SO I CAN PUT IT IN HERE AND CREDIT YOU WITH IT SO WE CAN HAVE LIKE A HCS BOOK FROM EVERYONE BUT THIS IS WHAT I STARTED WITH
oikawa screams a lot according to gigi but he’s actually a really quiet guy and not easy to scare
OKAY YOU GUYS DONT KILL ME I SWEAR IVE BEEN SO TERRIBLE AT WRITING BUT YOU KNOW WHO TURNED ONE TODAY? THIS PAGE!!! MY BABY IS ONE ALREADY 😭😭😭 ANYWAYS, HOPE THIS CAN MAKE YOU GUYS SMILE TODAY AND SCHOOL ENDS NEXT WEEK AND IM ALREADY AT 132 DRAFTS AMSJKSDKSK SO OH MY GOD THERES GOING TO BE SO MUCH COMING AND IM SO EXCITED TO GET THEM OUT 😩😩
#haikyuu#haikyuu!!#haikyuu imagines#haikyuu!! imagines#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu!! x reader#haikyuu headcanons#haikyuu!! headcanons#aoba johsai#aoba johsai x reader#aoba josai#aoba josai scenarios#seijoh#aoba josai imagines#aoba johsai imagines#seijoh imagines#seijoh manager#haikyuu manager#haikyuu!! manager#aoba josai manager#aoba johsai manager#seijoh x reader#aoba josai headcanons#aoba johsai headcanons#seijoh headcanons#haikyuu fluff#haikyuu!! fluff#seijoh fluff#aoba johsai fluff#aoba josai fluff
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golden hour
summary: Din Djarin wanted to kiss you. The thought of it was all-consuming. It’s funny that the only thing he’s ever allowed himself to want is the one thing he is bound by a creed to never have.
pairing: Din Djarin x Reader
word count: 2k
warnings: absolutely none. just pure fluff and yearning and a shit ton of run on sentences bc that’s my brand
a/n: i posted this over on my ao3 (padme_skywalker) back in april and have decided to post it here since it did fairly well. just something light and fluffy to balance out the pain i’m sure we will all feel during the finale. i did a few quick edits and changes to make this more inclusive, but let me know if something needs to be changed. pls enjoy~
“What’s your favorite color?”
The two of you lay on a grassy hillside on some random planet Mando had stopped at to refuel and for the three of you to stretch your legs. The child was dozing off to the side after spending the entire day waddling in the field and splashing in the nearby stream and chasing after frogs.
“Red,” Mando answered.
You were on your side, arm tucked underneath your head to keep the grass from tickling your face, watching him with curious eyes. It was nice, being able to lay there, the evening sun warming his beskar, as he played some question game you said was popular when you were younger. He didn’t know how you were able to talk so much at one time, taking the simplest questions he asked and answering them as if he asked you how the universe was made or how hyperdrives worked.
It was new to him- the whole not always being in silence thing. Not too long ago he would go weeks without hearing another being’s voice, just sitting in the Razor Crest with only his thoughts to keep him company. It was hard for him at first. It took him at least a month to be able to talk to you about something not related to the child or the ship. But your voice was smooth and sweet like the frozen cream treats he remembers loving as a child and he would listen to you talk about bantha dung if it meant he could hear your lilting accent and the breathy way you would trail off after talking for too long at one time.
“Really? Why?”
Mando glanced at you from the side of his visor. “It reminds me of the blood of my enemies,” he replied, his voice monotone.
Your eyes widened in shock before you threw your head back and laughed. Rolling on your back, you tried to quiet your giggles to keep from waking the baby. “Your jokes are getting better, Mando. Maybe once this whole bounty hunter thing gets to be too boring you can pursue stand-up comedy.”
You couldn’t tell, but he was positively beaming under the helmet, something in his chest warm at being able to make you laugh. He wished he could hear it without the filter of his helmet. He bet it sounds even sweeter.
“Okay, your turn, ask me one.”
Mando looked back up at the sky. “Do you speak any other languages?”
One corner of your mouth turned into a small frown. “No, I’m lucky that the family you saved me from were nice enough to even teach me Basic. I’ve always wanted to learn another, though.” You sat up, turning the top half of your body to him. “Oooh, could you teach me Mando’a? I always hear you speaking in it to the baby.”
He shifted uncomfortably under your gaze. Your frown had quickly turned back into a small smile and your eyes were wide with hopefulness. He wanted to tell you yes. He would learn any language in the galaxy just so he could teach it to you. “We’re not… We’re not really supposed to use it with people outside of the covert.” His heart clenched at the sight of your face falling.
You sighed and flopped back onto the ground. “I get that. Can you at least tell me what it is that you always call the baby, though? Ad’ika? What does that mean?”
He was quiet for a moment. “It’s what we call our children,” he said, deciding that the one word would be fine for you to know.
You hummed in response, eyes slipping shut. “That’s sweet. What is it that you always call me when you talk to him?” His face burns under the helmet. He uses a lot of names for you to the child. Mesh’la. Cyare. Cyar’ika. “Buir? I think that’s how you say it.”
Parent. Mother. “I… It’s just a nickname.” He clears his throat, not wanting to think about how much of a line that crosses. “You’re using all your questions up at once.”
“Oh, sorry.”
Mando turns his head to look at you again. He could hardly believe the way you glowed in the light of the setting sun. Your hair was fanned out around you, the light reflecting off of it and bringing out undertones that never show in the dim light of the Crest. It vaguely reminded him of the vibrant loom weavings the three of you had seen the local artisans working on early that day when you were in the market- but ten times more beautiful. Mortal hands could never create something as utterly divine as you were in that very moment.
Your brows furrowed slightly and you chewed on your lip. “Have you—” You cut yourself off. “Never mind.”
“Have I what?”
Your fingers twisted around a blade of grass. “Have you ever kissed someone?”
He nearly choked.
You turned your head toward him. Even the sensors of his helmet could detect the heat that had rushed to your face. “Sorry, that was a weird question. Don’t answer that.”
He couldn’t look at you when he answered. “No. I— I haven’t been without my helmet in front of others since I was a child.”
“Oh.” Silence fell between the two of you. “Have you ever wanted to?”
He should steer the conversation in a different direction. It was his turn to ask a question, anyway. He should ask you what your favorite animal is. Or what ship you would buy if you had unlimited credits. Or if— “Yes.”
He could still feel your gaze burning into him. He didn’t know if it was your eyes or maybe the sun or maybe he wasn’t really on this planet at all and he had somehow fallen in the Armorer’s forge because he felt like his beskar was melting right off his body.
“Anyone in particular?”
You, he thought. He would never say it, though. He knew that what the two of you had now was too good to ever mess up and his beskar may be hard but his heart had gone so damn soft ever since you first walked onto his ship and the mere thought of you rejecting him hurt worse than any physical injury he had ever sustained in his entire life.
But oh, did he think about kissing you.
He thought about it every time you walked in to a room. He thought about it every time you came up to the cockpit and sat a plate of food down beside him before going back down to be with the child. He thought about it the time the two of you decided to give the child a bath in a spare bucket since the sink was too small and you both were soaked head to toe from the child’s splashing and the only sounds in the galaxy were you laughing and the child squealing and you brought your hands up to wipe the bubbles off of his visor before you sent an armful of water his way and you made him laugh harder than he had in his entire life. He thought about it when he watched you work on the ship with grease smeared on your face and your brows furrowed and your tongue jutting out slightly while you concentrated. He thought about it when he turned his chair around to find you sleeping in the co-pilot’s seat, mouth slightly open and softly snoring.
He thought about it when he watched your eyes light up at the sight of something pretty at one of the marketplaces and then again when he presented it to you late at night once the child had gone to sleep and it was just the two of you and you hugged him and he didn’t hug you back but you both knew he would one day. He thought about it when he watched you take care of the child. He thought about it when he thought of his parents and how his father would always take his mother in his arms and kiss her and spin her around and dance with her and he thought about it when he told you what happened on that terrible day he lost them and you held him and cried and told him that you would burn down the entire galaxy before you ever let him feel pain like that ever again. He thought about it when the two of you got caught in a rain storm and you laughed the entire time you ran back to the ship and didn’t stop laughing as you stood under the dim lights, chest heaving and hair stuck to your face and you were so beautiful and that was the one time he sincerely thought about giving up the Creed because in his mind kissing you just once would be worth it.
He thought nearly every day about finding a loophole in the Creed. Turning the lights off. Blindfolding you. Asking you to close your eyes. He would trust you to not open them.
It’s funny that the only thing he’s ever allowed himself to want in his entire life is the one thing that he is bound by a creed to never be able to have.
So, yes, Din Djarin thought about kissing you quite often.
He could’ve told you all of this. But instead, he whispered, “Does it matter?” The words came out so softly he was sure they had been carried away by the wind.
You smiled, but it wasn’t like your normal smiles. It was sad and dejected and not like you at all. “No, I guess it doesn't.”
The sky was fading from golds and oranges and pinks to dusky blues and purples. The child was still asleep beside you and Mando wasn’t sure what kind of creatures came out on this planet at night and knew that he would have to guide you back to the ship soon.
The silence between the two of you was deafening and the few inches between your bodies felt like an entire parsec. Something cold began to clutch at his heart. He wanted to do it. He wanted to take his helmet off and hover over you and hold your face in his hands and finally just—
You scooted closer to him then, propping yourself up on one arm and leaning over him. You looked into the T of his visor and he wondered if you could see his eyes because it sure felt like you were staring into his soul at that moment.
His breath halted in his chest as you slowly inched your face toward his. Could you hear how hard his heart was beating?
He was frozen in place as he watched your eyes close and you pressed your lips to the hard beskar of his helmet right where his mouth would be and then he was on fire. He swore he could feel his lips tingling as if the helmet wasn’t there and your soft lips were on his. He was blushing, he could feel it as it traveled from his face down his neck to his chest. His entire body was tingling and numb at the same time and he felt hot and cold and Maker, is this what a heart attack feels like? Was he having a heart attack? You hadn’t even actually touched him.
The kiss only lasted a second before you pulled back and rested your forehead against his. When you smiled he felt the last bit of iciness in his heart melt away, leaving only warmth and happiness and love for this wild, beautiful creature in front of him.
“There,” you whispered. “Now you can’t say that you’ve never kissed someone.”
And then you were moving away from him, picking up the child and cradling him to your chest as you walked down the hill and through the field, taking every bit of his soul with you.
Din lay there on the hill for a moment longer. He was sure then that if he never took his helmet off for the rest of his life he would still die happy knowing that in some weird way he had kissed you and that was enough for him.
#the mandalorian x reader#din djarin x reader#the mandalorian fanfiction#din djarin fanfiction#din djarin fluff#the mandalorian fluff#mando x reader#star wars fanfiction
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Enough for me
Series masterlist
Word count: 1796
Genre: Fluff
Pairing: Natasha x gn!reader
Warnings: None (lmk if I need to add any)
Summary: You decide to tell Natasha how serious you are about your relationship and things don’t go exactly as you hoped but it’s still good.
A/n: Thank you to the multiple people who wanted another part in the mini flustered series that I’ve totally made up as I went along. Also I want to clarify that although this could be read as a part four to flustered it honestly isn’t super related so you can definitely read it seperately and it wouldn’t matter to the plot bc there is no plot besides soft nat. Also I don’t know if this one is any good because I didn’t edit as usual but hopefully you all enjoy!
You admire your work as you gaze out over the table you had just finished setting up. It had taken some work dragging a table all the way up to the roof and then having to make multiple trips to bring up all the plates, glasses, cutlery and food, not to mention the other things like candles you had set up. The effort was totally worth it in your opinion though because anything for Natasha was worth it.
You’ve spent a lot of time together since your first date and have gone on a couple more but so far all of your dates have been pretty casual and nobody on the team knows about you so you want to do something special to prove that you’re serious about her. Although looking up at the sky you realize you probably should have chosen another night and you cross your fingers that it doesn’t start to rain until after you’re done.
Your cell phone ringing interrupts you. “Tasha?” You answer it, looking at the caller id as you pick it up.
“Hi Y/n.” She responds. “So why am I supposed to call you?”
“What do you mean?” You ask, confused.
“You told me to call you at seven so I’m calling.” She says and you slap your hand up to your face because you can’t believe you forget that part of your plan.
“Right sorry, I forgot.” You tell her. “Anyways I need you to put on something nice and come up to the roof.”
“Mysterious, I like it.” She says which makes you smile. “I’ll be up there in five minutes.”
“Okay, see you then!” You respond before hanging up and panicking. You didn’t expect her to be so quick and five minutes really isn’t a lot of time. You still have approximately one hundred candles to light and you’re not sure that you can get it done on time.
You run around, trying to be careful and not burn yourself, and start to light all the candles that were all over the ground surrounding the table and the pathway to the door. Just as you’re finishing lighting the last one and standing up the door to the roof opens and Natasha steps out. She’s gorgeous as always but you especially love this dress on her. It’s black like most things she wears and is tight fitting at the top but slowly gets looser until it flows around her legs. You love it because you can tell she’s dressing to look beautiful and not sexy which she only ever does if she’s letting her guard down (so not very often). You are well aware that your jaw is open and you’re blatantly staring but luckily she’s busy looking around at your setup so you have time to collect yourself.
“Do you like it?” You ask her.
“It’s beautiful.” She breaths in response.
“Not as beautiful as you.” You reply and it’s so cheesy that you nearly regret saying that but there’s a light blush on her face and she’s smiling so you smile back and take a seat at the table, gesturing for her to sit with you.
“So what’s on the menu?” She asks lightly as she sits, still smiling.
“Just some paninis and lentil soup, hopefully it’s still warm.” You tell her.
“Well I’m sure it will be good either way.” She responds before taking a bite and moaning in delight. “It is amazing, thank you.”
“It’s my pleasure.” You say. “Now how about you tell me about your day?”
You listen attentively as she complains about paperwork and schedules and as she practically glows as she tells you about a new move she had used to take down Steve in training today. You love listening to her, it makes you happy that she likes talking about mediocre things with you and there’s a level of domesticity to it that makes your heart feel full. You just want to know everything about her, no matter how boring people deem it to be because it’s important to her and therefore it matters a lot to you.
You talk to her for hours comfortably as she continues to share but also asks you questions. There is never a lull in the conversation and you could listen to her voice forever. Eventually though, long after you both finish eating, the conversation dwindles to a comfortable silence. At least for her. You’re inwardly freaking out because you want to tell her exactly how much she means to you and although you think she’ll react well it’s not a guarantee.
“What are you thinking about?” She asks, always observant.
You gulp nervously but answer truthfully. “I’m thinking about how I am more serious about you than I’ve ever been about anyone before, even if it’s only been a few weeks.”
“I’m more serious about you than anyone too.” She replies. “But I think you already knew that.”
“I hoped so.” You tell her, continuing on your path since so far she is reacting well. “I was-I was thinking that maybe we could tell the others about us now, or at least stop hiding it and wait until they find out.”
“But I thought you were fine with it just being for us for now?” She asks, a frown tugging at your lips. Your heart sinks at her expression-you never meant to push boundaries that she wasn’t comfortable with yet.
“And I’m still fine with that.” You reassure her quickly. “I just thought it might be nice to tell the others but it’s totally cool if you aren’t okay with it.”
She stands up and starts to pace a little. “I don’t know what I want.”
“Hey, hey.” You stand up too and grab her gently by the arm so she stops and faces you. “It’s okay, we don’t have to do it, I just thought it would be nice so everyone knows how much I love you.”
Instead of calming her down your words only seem to make her more anxious. “You what? You-you love me?” She stutters out.
“Shit I am so sorry Natasha I promised not to rush you.” You immediately apologize, hoping that you didn’t mess things up to badly.
She picks her way through the candles carefully and sits down on the edge of the roof, her feet dangling over. You follow, sitting beside her, making sure you don’t accidentally do anything to further surprise her. She sits quietly, obviously deep in thought and you think as well. You know, or at least you hope, that Natasha won’t break up with you already because of this. You just wanted to give her a special night and the first part of it went great but you just had to push too far. You had promised that she would dictate the terms of the relationship when you had first asked her out but of course you weren’t able to follow through. You just wish that you could hear her thoughts so you could try to fix your mistakes. She stays silent and only speaks up after a few more agonizing minutes.
“I’m sorry-” She starts and you interrupt.
“It’s okay if you’re breaking up with me.” You say and she watches you with a strange look on her face.
“You just told me you love me-I’m not breaking up with you.” She tells you and you sigh in relief. “But I can’t say it back, not yet anyways.”
“That’s completely okay.” You reassure her, slightly disappointed but understanding and just happy she wasn’t breaking up with you.
“I want to but I can’t.” She explains, her face visibly upset, seeing a hint of your disappointment. “It just doesn’t work, I can’t say it, I’m sorry. But if you want to we can tell the team about us.” She turns away when she’s done, biting her lip, afraid of your reaction.
“Tasha. Tasha.” You say, waiting until she turns back to face you to continue. “We won’t do it unless you’re ready and it’s okay that you aren’t. I’m not going to take back my words, I do love you and being able to tell you that and be here with you is enough for me, you don’t need to do anything.”
She pauses a moment and you can’t read her expression so you start to get nervous. Maybe you should have taken back the ‘I love you’ part of your mini speech. Before you can overthink too much she throws herself at your side, wrapping her arms around your shoulders and resting her in the crook of your neck.
“Thank you.” She mumbles against your skin. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be, I’m happy with this because having you is enough for me because I love you.” You tell her, awkwardly un-wedging your arm from between your side and her body and wrapping it around her, rubbing her back in mindless patterns.
She shivers slightly, not from the cold. “Can you say that again?”
“What, I love you?” You ask, confused.
“Yeah.” She says, almost shyly, nodding her head against your neck.
“I love you.” You tell her, kissing the side of her head at an awkward angle. “I love you. I love you so much Tasha.”
You repeat it over and over for a few minutes, feeling as though your heart is going to burst. You no longer care that she can’t say it back because she has her reasons but she wants you to say it and she’s cuddling with you and you never want to let her go because this moment is so perfect.
Unfortunately the weather has other plans and just as your words start to die out the sky open, a few small drops then a complete downpour. The soft glow that once covered the roof from the candles disappears as they go out, releasing smoke. You know you have to clean things up but you figure it can wait until morning, once things are drier, so you take Natasha’s hand and pull her up. She starts to run towards the door, helping you so you don’t step on the candles, giggling the whole way. Technically things hadn’t gone to plan, her not wanting to tell the team or say she loved you and it raining at the end, but those things don’t seem to matter when you see her bright smile, her hair plastered to her face but somehow looking as beautiful as ever. And it matters even less when she pulls you inside and immediately presses you to the door, kissing you hard. You’re more than happy to fulfill her request when she pulls away, asking for you to say it again. Anything to keep her happy and make her feel loved.
---
<<<previous chapter // next chapter>>>
Taglist: @fayhar @stephanieromanoff @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @acertainredhead @madamevirgo @megaqueenmaeve @cherryblossomskye @thewidowsghost @nyx-aira @stephanieromanoff @stop-drop-and-drumroll @peggycarter-steverogers @casperlikej @wandas-vis @mxxnmocha @king-star
#natasha romanoff#natasha romanoff x reader#black widow#black widow x reader#avengers fanfiction#marvel fanfiction#x reader
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amortentia | draco malfoy
part 1
Summary: Draco realises he could smell Y/N in the Amortentia. Sixth year, no Voldemort AU.
Word count: 1.3k
A/N: this is a two parter bc i got a bit carried away ! you can find part 2 here when it’s out :)
Draco always liked Potions class well enough. Professor Snape, head of Slytherin house, tended to show nepotism towards Draco and his fellow Slytherins’, so he always did well in class.
“In today’s lesson, we will be identifying potions from their appearance, smell and effects on the drinker.” Snape droned. “Firstly, we will begin with this cauldron. Who can tell me what this potion is?”
A few hands went into the air, Snape picked Y/N to answer. “Amortentia, professor.”
Snape paced around at the front of the class. “Well done. Tell me, Y/N, how do you know?”
“It has a mother-of-pearl sheen, and steam is coming off it in spirals, sir.”
“Excellent. 5 points to Slytherin.” Snape announced.
“Nice one, Y/N,” Draco whispered, and some other Slytherin’s thanked you.
Snape hushed the class. “Amortentia is a powerful love potion. It smells different to every person, depending on what attracts them. I want all of you to come up here and smell it.”
The students formed a line, Draco shoving people behind him so he could go first. He breathed in the aroma of the potion, smelling new books, flowers and rain.
Each student took turns smelling the potion, some choosing to tell their friends what they could smell, others keeping it to themselves. Draco sat back at his seat and waited for everyone to be finished.
“What did you smell, Draco?” Pansy asked when she took her seat next to him.
“None of your business,” Draco replied.
Pansy rolled her eyes and turned to Y/N, who had just returned from smelling the potion. “Y/N, what did you smell?”
“I’m not sure. You?” Y/N answered.
Pansy made a face. “I smelt cookies and strawberries. Draco won’t say what he smelt.”
Y/N just shrugged and returned her attention back to the class.
When the class was over, Y/N, Pansy, Draco and Blaise all headed to the common room together. It was the last class of the day, and Y/N needed to help Pansy do the Dark Arts essay that was due the next morning before they headed to the Great Hall for dinner.
-
The essay ended up taking longer than Y/N had expected, so she and Pansy arrived at the Hall late. The feast had already begun.
“Alright, dickhead?” Y/N said to Draco, mussing up his hair as she slid in between him and Blaise, Pansy taking a seat opposite.
Draco flattened his hair back down. “How kind of you to grace us with your wondrous presence.” He muttered sarcastically.
Ever since first year, Y/N and Draco had bantered and insulted each other non-stop as a strange way of showing affection. The two had never had a very serious friendship, instead just making jokes and calling each other names. They wouldn’t ever talk about a personal problem. Y/N had Pansy for that.
The four of them had formed a close friendship in first year, along with Crabbe and Goyle (though Y/N didn’t like them too much). It wasn’t often you saw one of them without at least one other member from their group. Y/N and Pansy were particularly close, as the only two girls, they had to stick together.
“Weather’s miserable. “ Blaise noted, looking up at the enchanted ceiling which was dripping raindrops that never made it to the ground.
Y/N shook her head. “I love it when it rains.”
The others muttered in disagreement. Draco said nothing. The course of the conversation quickly changed, and soon, dinner was over. The group headed back to the common room and went their separate ways to bed.
-
Weeks passed, and Draco had all but forgotten about the Amortentia and Y/N’s comment about the rain.
Y/N and Pansy sat in the Slytherin stand, wrapped up in coats and scarves to keep away the cold. Together they cheered for Draco and the rest of the Slytherin Quidditch team as they played against Ravenclaw.
The match went on for just over an hour when Draco caught the Snitch and won the game for Slytherin. Cheers erupted from the Slytherin stands as the crowd started chanting “Malfoy!”.
Back in the common room, celebrations continued. Slytherins’ crowded around the Quidditch team as they returned to join the rest of their house celebrating their victory. Draco searched through the sea of faces to find his friends.
He quickly spotted them, laughing and cheering as Draco made his way towards them. Y/N threw herself into Draco’s arms, congratulating him on his catch. “Well done, Draco!” She said. A floral scent filled his nose, perhaps her perfume. She pulled away as Draco realised where he recognised the smell from.
“Thanks.” He replied bluntly.
Pansy gave Draco a hug too, before Crabbe and Goyle headed over, leading to Y/N making a face to Pansy and the two heading off somewhere. Draco felt an unfamiliar twinge of disappointment as he watched Y/N walk away.
Pansy and Y/N wandered about the castle, gossiping like usual. Pansy’s favourite thing to talk about was boys.
“So,” said Pansy. “I overheard someone talking about you today.”
Y/N rolled her eyes. “Pansy, I’m really not interested.”
For a few weeks now, Pansy had been trying to set Y/N and a boy from Ravenclaw. Despite Y/N’s insistence that she had no interest whatsoever, Pansy was relentless.
“He said he thinks you’re cute,” Pansy stated matter-of-factly.
“Did he just say that or did you ask him?”
Pansy said nothing, looking away sheepishly.
-
“Are you almost done? I’m hungry.”
Draco sat at a desk in the Slytherin common room, writing an essay last minute (as usual). Y/N lay on her side on the sofa nearby, nose in a book, waiting for Draco to finish so they could head to dinner.
“You know, you don’t have to wait for me,” Draco replied.
Y/N closed her book, her fingers marking her page. She looked over to Draco, her chin resting on her palm. “I know, but if I don’t keep an eye on you, you’ll pretend you’ve finished the essay when you haven’t, and you’ll get a rubbish grade.”
“Hm. You know me so well.” Draco’s voice dripped with sarcasm.
“I know,” Y/N shot back. “It’s almost like I’ve known you for years.”
Truthfully, Draco was glad to have the company. Especially Y/N, who recently he felt more aware of than ever. How close she was to him, how he could smell her perfume, how her skin brushed against his when they sat next to each other.
A silence fell as Draco went back to writing his essay, though he struggled to focus when Y/N was just across from him, her attention on the book she was reading. A faint line formed between her eyebrows as she was so immersed in her novel.
“Are you on duty tonight?” Y/N asked, bringing Draco back to himself.
He nodded, clearing his throat as he returned once again to his essay. He’d practically given up hope on it, but Y/N seemed to have faith.
“Alright, done.” He announced eventually.
Y/N perked up, placing a bookmark between the pages of her book. “Really? Let’s have a read.”
Draco was already rolling up the parchment. “No, let’s just go to dinner before I have prefect duty.”
-
When Draco returned from his prefect duties, he found Y/N asleep on the sofa in the common room, a book opened face down next to her. Draco considered waking her.
He picked up the book and replaced her bookmark. But not before he took in a deep breath from between the pages of the book. He couldn’t help himself. New book smell, just like he could smell in the Amortentia.
It has taken him weeks, but he had finally figured it out. It was Y/N he could smell in the Amortentia all along. How could he have not realised sooner?
Instead of waking her, Draco went upstairs to bed.
#draco malfoy#draco malfoy imagine#draco malfoy fanfic#draco imagine#draco x y/n#draco x you#draco x reader#hp#hp imagine#hp fanfic#harry potter#harry potter imagine#harry potter fanfic
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FIREWORKS AND STREAMERS
Request: I have been insecure about my curly hair lately and was wondering if you can you write something with one of the weasley twins where the reader is insecure about her curly hair and one of the twins makes her feel better.
Pairing: Fred Weasley x Hufflepuff!Reader
Genre: fluff
Tags:
Requested by: @wildcat1434
Fred Weasley: @whiskeyn-rain @lumos-solemn
Permanent taglist: @elia-the-bibliophile @randomparanoid @karlthecat15722 @thebutchersdaughtersblog
Warnings: none
A/N: So like, incoming fluff bc this idea was cute and sometimes I do be needing fluff, that's about it, enjoy <3
Rogue-durin-16 masterlist
The relationship between me and my hair had always been... Bumpy, you could say.
There were periods in which I would find it quite lovely; during those times I would let my curls free, showing them off with a proud demeanor, knowing my hair was unique. Those times began to turn less and less usual since the middle of third year, though they were still there.
However, after the summer prior to my sixth year, those moments had banished; I only wished to hide my hair, and my friends ended up noticing. They told me surely there would be a spell or potion able to change my hair.
As if they had summoned it, the next day in Transfiguration, Professor McGonagall introduced us to what seemed like my salvation; Crinus Muto, an advanced spell that modified the caster's hair with no restrictions.
My best friend advised me against using it, claiming it wouldn't help my insecurity— if only, it would worsen it.
I really wanted to do as she had told me and completely dismiss the spell's existence, but two nights after I had a big mental breakdown about it, caused by the most stupid thing ever.
"Is Weasley staring at you or am I blind?" One of my friends whispered, her eyes trained on the Gryffindor table.
I didn't even bother to look up, not wanting to know whether it was true or not, before responding with a quiet "You're blind."
"I mean, it's hard to tell with two rows of students between us but," She nudged me, urging me to avert my gaze from my dinner and redirect it to Fred. "it kinda looks like he's... staring."
Curiosity killed the cat, I guess. My eyes finally left my plate and were, in fact, met with Fred's brown ones. As soon as they met, though, he looked away, pretending to be focused on his food, just like I had been doing seconds ago.
"Of course he's staring." Hannah Abbot, who sat right in front of my friend, commented with her mouth full. "Have you seen your hair?" She swallowed her food, looking me up and down before adding, "No offense, but it's an absolute mess." My eyes opened widely in shock at her bluntness. "You should take care of it, really."
"Has someone ever told you you're an ill-mannered bitch, Hannah?" I heard my friend talking back at the younger girl while I got up and started to make my way out of the Great Hall.
Of course, I didn't see Fred shooting up and attempting to go after me; ultimately he decided to stay in his place, since he saw my friend walking out too.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
I was very aware of all the pair of eyes that had been laid on me the very moment I entered the greenhouse where we would be doing the Herbology tasks.
When I had met my friends at the Hufflepuff common room that morning, I had received divided opinions about my straight hair. At first I had been very convinced that it looked way better than my curly hair, but seeing my friends' reaction, I wasn't that confident about it anymore.
I didn't have time to undo the spell before class, so I decided to go along with it and see how the day unfolded.
I took a deep breath, my eyes trained on the ground as I made my way to an empty seat; maybe there weren't that many people staring, maybe it was just my anxiety.
I finally gathered the courage and looked up, nervously scanning the glasshouse so I could shake off my fears.
There was only a couple of my peers staring, which would have put me at ease, if one of them wasn't Fred Weasley.
On top of it, of course, he wasn't even trying to be subtle, it was almost as if he wanted me to notice his judging eyes; I could feel his gaze on me for the entire class.
The instant Professor Sprout dismissed us, I shoved everything in my bag and left the greenhouse, thanking a couple of Gryffindors who complimented my hair on my way out.
Again, I didn't notice Fred leaving the class as soon as he could to run after me.
I threw my bag against a tree near the lake shore and, as I fell against it, I heard someone jogging in my direction.
"In a hurry to sit by the lake, Y/l/n?" I followed the tall ginger with my eyes while he circled me and sat down by me. "You alright?"
"I just needed a break from... People." I vaguely explained, focusing on the water instead of on the boy besides me.
"Understandable." He hesitated for a second before adding, "Do you want me to leave?"
"No, it's fine." I surprised myself at how calmed and collected I sounded, as if I wasn't chatting with my crush.
"What happened to your hair?" His genuinely curious inquiry took me aback, and I struggled to find something to answer.
"Why?" My heartbeat picked up, anxiety inundating me once more. "You don't like it?"
"It looks weird." Fred looked at me up and down with a grimace. "You don't... Look like yourself." I was about to enter fight or flight mode, but he seemed to notice, and panic made its way to his face. "But it doesn't matter what I think," he was quick to add, his eyes wide open as if he knew he had said something he should have not. "I mean— I think it shouldn't matter, if you like it, that's great— I mean, you don't need my opinion about that either!"
"Calm down, I understand." I tried to reassure him, before his rambling drove the both of us crazy. "Can I tell you a secret?" He nodded with pursed lips, surely afraid he would fuck up if he spoke again. "I've been very insecure about my hair lately— like, very." I sighed. "My best friend told me not to straighten it, but last night I got a not so nice comment and—"
"So that's why you left?" I nodded, tugging my sleeves. Fred went silent for a moment, and then cleared his throat and scooted closer to me. "I know this won't do much, but I really love your hair. Kinda reminds me of fireworks and streamers." He gestured around his own head, mimicking the fireworks' movement. "Dunno I think is fun and pretty awesome." I raised my brows at him in surprise. "Like you."
"Aw, that's very sweet." He offered me a sheepish smile as I felt my cheeks blushing. "It does a lot, actually." I confessed, fidgeting with my rings. "I guess I kinda needed to hear something positive about my hair."
"Well, whenever you need to hear something positive about your hair," he pointed at himself. "I'm your man." He winked at me and I let out a chuckle. "I can also tell you positive things about you in general, but that has a price."
"And what is it?"
"You'll have to let me buy you a drink at The Three Broomsticks this Saturday." I tried not to let panic slip through my recently eased demeanor; was he asking me on a date? "And give me a kiss after." He wiggled his brows at me and my face turned red. "the kiss is negotiable."
I casted my gaze down, fixing it on my shoes, not sure of what I was supposed to say at that. His foot tapping mine snapped me out of my thoughts.
"So?" My eyes traveled to him once more, only to find his studying me already. "What do you say, Y/l/n?"
"Well," I shrugged, trying in vain to play nonchalant. "Seems like an affordable price, so it's fine by me."
"I'll pick you up after lunch, yeah?" Before I could agree, he gasped, his eyes going wide. "I'm a genius."
"Come again?" I frowned, confused as his sudden frantic behavior.
"Don't mind me, love." He jumped up and jogged towards the castle, leaving me puzzled in there. I was about to grab a book from my bag when Fred rushed back, crouched down and pecked my cheek. "Your hair's amazing." He assured me. "See you!" My fingertips graced my now flushed cheek as he headed off.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
I was finishing my lunch when two towering redheads entered the Hall running; while George, slowed down, Fred made a beeline to the Hufflepuff table, his casual clothes already on.
"Ready?" He asked breathless.
"Yeah— you didn't have lunch, did you?" I pointed out, getting up to stand in front of him.
"No, but I'll eat something later—" his eyes roamed over my carefully picked outfit before stating, "You look... very pretty."
"Why, thank you." I offered him a smile and looked over my shoulder at the Gryffindor table, where his friends were very attentive to all we did. "You sure you don't wanna eat something?"
"Hundred percent." He tilted his head towards the gates. "shall we?" He prompted to walk before him, and it was then that I realized he had his hands behind his back. Once we were out in the yard, he tugged my hand and made me turn to him. "I made something for you."
"You didn't have to." Was the first thing that came to my mind when I heard his words. Then the wording dawned on me; he didn't get me something, he made me something. "What is it?"
"So, you know that I told you your hair reminded me of fireworks and streamers?" I nodded, not quite knowing where he was going with that. "Well—" he then showed me what his back was hiding; a delicate, tiny firecracker with my name written on the side. "George helped me so I could finish it on time."
"I'm—" at my loss of words, I could only let out a happy laugh. "This is so cute— am I supposed to ignite it?"
"Duh!" I gently pushed his shoulder in response to his teasing. "Do you know how to do it?"
"I've seen you do it plenty of times." I admitted, grabbing the firecracker with one hand and my wand with the other; it looked so pretty, it was a pity I'd have to ruin it.
With a brief firemaking spell, the firecracker set off. Fred pulled me back slightly before it happened, though.
I was in awe at the beautiful fireworks before us, which looked like a color-changing, expanding version of my hair.
When the colors died out, I turned to Fred, whose attention was already on me, awaiting for a reaction. Surely, he was not expecting the kiss he got, but he didn't complain either; while my hands rested on his chest, his traveled to cup my cheeks before I could pull away.
"So you liked it?" He questioned quietly against my lips.
"I loved it." I whispered back with a wide smile. "You're a sweetheart." I pecked his lips before retreating. Holding his hand in mines, I made my way back into the castle. "We're not leaving until you have lunch."
"You are a sweetheart." He responded, following my lead without offering resistance. "By the way, your hair looks gorgeous." The corners of my lips twisted into a bigger smile at the sweet words he spoke only for me to hear as we went back into the Great Hall.
Maybe my hair wasn't that bad after all.
#fred weasley imagine#fred weasley x reader#fred weasley x y/n#fred weasley#fred weasley x hufflepuff!reader#fred weasley x you#fred weasley x gender neutral reader#fred weasley fanfics#fred weasley fluff#fred weasley fanfiction#fred lives au#fred x y/n#fred x you#fred x reader#fred x hufflepuff reader#gryffindor x hufflepuff#harry potter fanfiction#harry potter#fred weasley masterlist#fred weasley aesthetic
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[Tales from the Pack] Hansol: Fire and Ice (Part Six)
Characters: Hansol x female reader
Genre/warnings: werewolf au, fantasy, angst, the smallest bit of fluff just bc hansol’s optimistic and a sweetheart
Word count: 2,420
Summary: You’ve always been one to let your emotions get the best of you – your power reflects that – and you’ve never been good at expressing them. That’s why you always thought you’d be awful with a mate, but you never thought things would be this awful.
a/n: things in bold are in english. also this takes place the same night as the last part but it explains where hansol was when minghao couldn’t find him, and what happened to his mate after she woke up. AND it does talk about rika and baekhyun and i used to have a series for them called amend buuuut i also took that down to redo it lmao so there’s not really much backstory on them other than what i have for star crossed so if you’re confused, that’s ok lmao
Previous | Next | Fire and Ice Masterlist
Hansol sat on the lawn as he usually did, staring up at the stars. He always wondered if you were looking at the stars, too. He wondered if you even liked looking stars, or what you preferred looking at instead. Did you like watching the clouds or animals in the forest? Did you like watching snow fall in the winter or rain fall in the summer? Did you still find staring at the fire comforting and pleasing even though you could easily form it effortlessly at your fingertips?
You were all Hansol thought about, and truthfully, he waited up every night for you. He never once felt you were in danger, and he knew he could find you quickly if there was danger. But for now, he was giving you space. He was just hoping you’d come back to him. If you did, he’d go see that doctor your pack recommended. If not, then he’d already be dead before the pain could get any worse – unless the silver managed to kill him first, in which case, it wouldn’t really matter anyway.
Hansol heard the front door open and shut before he heard somebody walking in the grass. He could smell Seokmin’s scent, so he knew it was him coming over.
“I’m about to go to bed, and everyone else is already in their rooms,” he told the younger boy. “I just wanted to see if you needed anything.”
“Actually,” Hansol spoke up, peeling his gaze away from the night sky to look at Seokmin, “I’ve been thinking...”
“About what?” Seokmin wondered as he sat down beside his brother.
“It’s been about a week since everything,” he began, staring at the grass between the two of them, “so I think it’s safe to go look back at the old house.”
Seokmin didn’t understand why Hansol would feel any need going back there. No doubt everything would be burned to the ground. Any belongings they had were what was left in their house, or what was put there by your pack in preparation for them to move in.
“Look for what?” he asked.
Hansol’s golden eyes practically sparkled when he looked up at Seokmin, “Something of Jiung’s or Chanseong’s. I want to give it to _____.”
“When?” Seokmin scoffed. “I don’t mean to sound mean, Sol, but do you even know if she’ll come back to you?”
“I’d go leave it at the house,” he shrugged. “I won’t go see her if she doesn’t want me to, so I’d just leave it there and go.”
“What are you expecting to find, exactly? You know there won’t be any bodies.”
“There might be. Or maybe there’s something small that didn’t get completely burned. I don’t know.”
As Hansol pushed himself off of the ground, Seokmin looked up at him, “Are you leaving right now?”
“Yeah,” he shrugged. “Do you wanna come help me?”
Seokmin sighed but got up as well, “Somebody has to keep you out of trouble.”
“Okay, Mr. Thunder-and-Lightning,” Hansol chuckled as the two brothers walked closer to the edge of their property and into the woods, “I think you are the trouble.”
“Hey, I helped!” Seokmin insisted.
“Yeah, helped Jooyeon have a heart attack,” Hansol laughed as the two disappeared into the thick brush.
-
You woke from your nightmare with tears streaming down your face. You’d been doing this a lot lately: crying so hard you’d wake yourself up. But this time, it was better that you woke up in the middle of the night. It was the perfect time to slip out unnoticed.
Ever since that first day after Jiung died, you felt the alpha pull to Hanbin. It was supposed to be you, but it never was. You tried to pretend, but nothing changed. You were never fit to be an alpha like Jiung, but you knew Hanbin would do a good job to protect the others.
Before you left, you got out a pen and some paper and wrote a quick note to Rin. You knew this would have the biggest impact on her, but you couldn’t stay here. If you weren’t an alpha like you were supposed to be, what was the point? It was like you didn’t belong here, but you definitely knew you didn’t belong with Seungcheol’s pack – not after you denied Hansol. To be truthful, you didn’t even really feel the tie to the pack anymore, not after the two days spent with Hansol. So you were going to just…go. You didn’t know what you’d do, but you’d either figure it out eventually or you’d die – whichever came first.
But you also knew Rin would have her mate soon enough considering she often went out and followed him around. Sure, he didn’t know since Rin kept herself invisible, but just knowing where her mate was and knowing he was doing okay was what you assumed would help her cope. It was why she was hidden the entire time his pack was here: she didn’t want her mate to see her and imprint on her – not until she learned how to speak to him, at least. So you hoped she’d be okay after you left, and that she’d learn Korean to finally go introduce herself to him. He seemed like a nice enough guy, anyway. He’d definitely help her get better and would make sure she was happy.
Rin,
When you read this, I’ll be gone. I don’t know where I’m going, but please don’t look for me. I know you’ll think I betrayed you by leaving, and I won’t try to make any excuses for myself. You were alone when Jiung and Chanseong you here, and all you had was us to rely on. I always promised to stick beside you, and I’m completely breaking that promise. I know you’ll hate me, and I deserve it. But I want you to know I still love you, and I hope you’ll do okay. And try not to stress so much – your mate will love you no matter what.
Please take care of yourself.
-_____
You left the note on your pillow before grabbing Jiung’s sweater that you left laying over the back of your chair, tugging it over your head, and going to the window. You pushed the window open before leaping out and landing softly on your feet before you ran into the woods, leaving behind your home, and the pack you used to consider family.
-
The wolves could already smell that burnt smell from the house, but they continued to run in their wolf forms until they were closer. They didn’t shift back until they reached the clearing where their house used to stand. But now, everything was reduced to rubble and ash.
“Shit…” Seokmin mumbled, looking around the plot of land they used to call home.
A place that once held bright and lively memories now looked dark and dead. They couldn’t believe this was the same place they used to run around and play. They couldn’t believe a large, warm house once stood here. On the other hand, they couldn’t believe that said house was now destroyed. It was all just a bunch of ash and useless pieces of debris.
“I’m gonna sift through some of this and see if there’s anything we can take back,” Seokmin said, gesturing toward the largest pile of dark ash.
Hansol just went over to where he last remembered seeing Jiung, all but ignoring Seokmin. There were small piles of ash around the house, which must’ve been all the dead or severely injured that they couldn’t save. There were even some detached body parts mixed in, but thankfully that stench was covered by the smell of the burned house that attacked his nose.
He reached the general area and got down on his bare knees, sifting through the ashes. He felt bad disturbing anything that might be a body, but he was determined to find something – anything – to make you feel like you could have even a little bit of closure. Hansol just wanted you to be happy.
Something suddenly caught his eye. It was something gold that shone in the moonlight above, which was what made him notice it. He brushed away some of the ash before picking up some sort of pendant on a thin gold chain. It was a plain gold circle, no bigger than a small coin, and it had Jiung’s first initial and your first initial engraved on it with a dot in between the two letters. Jiung and _____.
Hansol let the chain dangle from his teeth – he obviously didn’t have pockets, and that’s how he’d have to carry it in wolf form anyway – before searching through the rest in case there was anything else. He found a ring that had a date engraved on it as well. He wasn’t sure what it was, but he figured he should bring it just in case.
“Hansol!” Seokmin called as he rushed over with a few books in his arms. “I found a photo album, one of Danbi’s books, and a few picture frames that made it out.”
“Good job,” the younger wolf smiled. “Let’s get back to the house before sunrise, yeah?”
So the two shifted before Seokmin collected the small stack of things in his mouth, and the two raced off to their new home, happy with the small things they were able to find.
-
Hansol and Seokmin could hear their names being called before they even got close to home. They picked up their pace, Hansol howling to let them know they were nearby and safe.
When they finally made it back to the house, almost all the wolves were outside, waiting for the pair to return. Seokmin immediately dropped what he had in his mouth, but Hansol kept the ring and the necklace balanced carefully between his teeth.
Jihoon looked down at the ground, scanning over the things Seokmin brought before looking at the two wolves, “Did– Did you two go back to the house?! Are you kidding me?! You both could’ve gotten killed!”
Seokmin whined but Hansol didn’t regret it. He got what he was looking for.
“Jia’s been looking for you,” Seungcheol told Hansol.
The boy carefully placed the jewelry in the grass before shifting and collecting his two items, “Why?”
The eldest alpha sighed, running a hand through his dark hair, “_____ ran away from her pack.”
Hansol paused like he was trying to see if his instincts were about to suddenly warn him about his mate, but when nothing happened, he shrugged, “She’s okay.”
“What?” Soonyoung gasped. “You’re not even gonna go check on her?”
“No, she wants her space,” he insisted. “If something bad happens, then I’ll go find her, but until then, me smothering her won’t help.”
Junhui pointed at the gold pieces of jewelry that the younger wolf held, “What’re those?”
“They’re gifts,” he replied, smiling softly to himself as he looked down at the jewelry in the palm of his hand, “for _____.”
-
Maybe Rika was right. Maybe Baekhyun was the worst. Maybe you should’ve listened to the tiny mate whenever she complained about him. But you always found Baekhyun pretty enjoyable since he had about the same snarky attitude as Rin. But now, you were deciding to reconsider that.
Had he not had been sniffing around your property, you wouldn’t have been caught. Had he not been having issues with not only his mate -- if you could call her that -- and his pack, he wouldn’t have stopped you.
Had Chanyeol not been worried when he realized his brother was missing and gone out to find him, you would’ve gotten away.
“Can’t burn me if I burn too, _____,” Chanyeol sang as he forcefully carried you to their house.
But you had stressed that you didn’t want anyone knowing about this. Baekhyun couldn’t tell Rika, and neither of them could snitch on you to their pack. And considering the mental state they found you in, even Baekhyun knew not to double-cross you even though he just replied with, “I’ll think about it”.
Sneaking you inside was easy because the pack was asleep. So Chanyeol brought you up to Baekhyun’s room before setting you on the bed while Baekhyun shut the door. Then he turned to look at you, quirking an eyebrow while Chanyeol just studied you with furrowed brows.
“So...what happened?” Baekhyun quizzed.
He knew what happened to your alpha already. Their pack was friends with yours, and there was also the tie to Rika. But he didn’t understand what caused you to suddenly snap.
“I don’t have to tell you,” you told him, your arms crossed over your chest.
He shrugged, “Fair. But if you’re missing, I’m sure your pack will go looking for you when they realize, and then they’ll tell us what’s going on. And Rika will love me for saving her sister from a mental break.”
Your eyes widened, “I’m not going back.”
“You’re not going to do something stupid, either,” Chanyeol stated.
“I wasn’t!” you insisted. “I was just running away, okay?”
Baekhyun bit the inside of his cheek. He figured you must’ve realized that wasn’t the pack you belonged in anymore. They knew Hanbin was the alpha when they saw him last, sensing the authority radiating off of him and the way the pack acted around him. It was obvious.
But they didn’t know why you weren’t the alpha. So where did you belong?
“Is it because--”
“Where’re you gonna go?” Baekhyun cut off Chanyeol before he could ask a stupid question.
You just shrugged, “I don’t know. I can take care of myself, though.”
While Baekhyun would’ve rather just had you stay with them, he knew Junmyeon especially would ask a lot of question. And it was obvious you didn’t want to be bothered with that. Not only that, but he’d contact Hanbin.
Finally, he let out a sigh and grabbed your upper arm, “C’mon, let’s go.”
“Go where?” you asked.
He brought you to his bedroom door, whispering, “I’m gonna stay at the hut with you so I can know you’re safe, but so you’ll be away from everybody.”
You were surprised Baekhyun was doing something to help you, but you didn’t say anything else to him until you were out of the house and a good distance away.
“Won’t your pack wonder where you went?” you pointed out.
He just shrugged, “Eh, probably not.”
#seventeen#hansol#vernon#seventeen au#seventeen imagine#seventeen scenario#seventeen oneshot#seventeen fanfic#werewolf!seventeen#hansol au#hansol imagine#hansol scenario#hansol oneshot#hansol fanfic#werewolf!hansol#vernon au#vernon imagine#vernon scenario#vernon oneshot#vernon fanfic#werewolf!vernon
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reminiscence (? x f!reader) pt2
thank you so much for all of the positive feedback on the last chapter!! i’m super happy you guys enjoyed it :) just for some clarification, the reason i made who the reader will end up with a mystery is bc since she has amnesia, i thought it would be fun if we all found out together hehe :) enjoy this next chapter!!
pt1
pt3
“Thank you,” The woman said, hunched over as she caught her breath. When she stood, Bolin got a good look at her face. She wasn’t a woman at all: she was a girl, probably the same age as him. “I thought I had an agreement with the Triads to leave me alone, but that guy must not have gotten the memo.”
Bolin let out a laugh. “You have an agreement with the Triads?” The girl furrowed her brows and pouted.
“Gotta keep myself safe somehow.”
“Who was that?” (Y/N) asked as Kya and Korra rifled through dressers and chests to find Air Nomad clothes that would fit her. Kya gave Korra a sharp look before the girl could answer.
“That was Bolin,” Korra replied cautiously. “He’s Mako’s brother.”
“Oh,” (Y/N) said. “He looked really nice. Did he know me too?”
“Um, yeah, I think so,” Korra said and Kya glared at her. “What? Am I just supposed to lie to her if she asks?”
“I appreciate the honesty,” (Y/N) admitted. “I would really rather no one tiptoe around the past.”
“If you receive too much information at once, or someone tells you something too painful, it could harm your chances of ever getting your memory back,” Kya said as she handed (Y/N) an Air Nomad dress.
“So everyone is just supposed to pretend that they’re fine with me? That hardly seems fair.” (Y/N) gave Korra a pointed look. “I know you know something that I don’t and that’s why you’re a little stand-offish toward me.”
“You’re not wrong.”
“Tell me, please? I’ll be okay. I need to know what kind of person I was.”
“Not today,” Kya interrupted. “You need rest. Lots of it. You’ve been going since you woke up.”
Now that she mentioned it, (Y/N) did feel rather exhausted. She stifled a yawn. “I’ll lead you to your room,” Kya said. “Since Korra can’t be trusted to not tell you everything.”
(Y/N) stood as Kya grabbed her by the arm again. “It was nice meeting you, Korra, even if it wasn’t nice meeting me.” Korra didn’t reply. She just watched as the girl padded down the hall.
The room (Y/N) was given was bare. It held a desk, a dresser, and a bed. The window looked out onto the courtyard below. She could see the people down there, undoubtedly talking about her, and she reached her fingers up to open the window. She paused, thinking on Kya’s words. If she found out too much about herself too soon, she would risk the chance of losing her memories forever. She let her hand fall to her side.
Everyone down there knew who she was. Maybe they knew her likes, her dislikes, or even her birthday. She wondered if at one point they had been friends.
Her experience with Mako had definitely put a sour taste in her mouth. He had said she wasn’t a good person. Was she mean? Evil, even? What made her that way? What did she do to him that was so awful?
And then there was Bolin. Mako had mentioned his name earlier, when she had arrived on his doorstep. “Bolin’s not here,” He had said. Why would it matter whether or not Bolin was there? She sighed as she looked down at the boy dressed in green. What did he know about her?
(Y/N) felt the familiar stinging at the backs of her eyes that alerted her to tears. Since she was alone, she let them fall freely. She moved away from the window and to the bed, her body shaking as she cried. She felt so alone. How was she supposed to cope with something like this? She was completely lost on the inside and it seemed like the only people who knew her didn’t want her around.
She didn’t bother wiping her tears away. They fell too quickly for her to catch them all. She wondered if she had ever had someone that would wipe her tears away. She got under the covers and prayed that sleep would come to her soon.
---
Two years ago, Bolin had been walking down the streets of Republic City. It was a warm night, signaling the start of summer, so he wore his jacket slung over his shoulder. The streetlights shone against the puddles on the asphalt. It had rained earlier that day.
He and Mako had gotten in a fight over money again. It was stupid, really, but sometimes Bolin was just so sick of Mako treating him like he was incapable. He had slammed the door as he left their shared apartment and marched into the street, walking with no destination. He was far away from home now. He could tell he had been walking for a while because the neon lights of the shops had already shut off. Republic City was beginning to quiet.
He made a right onto a dimly lit street and noticed a female figure walking ahead of him. Bolin decided to stop. He knew sometimes it freaked women out if men walked behind them, even if there was no ill-intent behind it, so he leaned his back against the cool brick of the building and waited until she had rounded the corner to start walking again. That was when he heard the scream.
Out of pure instinct, Bolin started running toward the sound, his jacket billowing behind him. He skidded around the corner, watching as the woman he had seen struggled against a member of the Triple Threat Triad. He and Mako had done some work for them in the past, but he didn’t recognize the man. He was large, towering over the woman and probably Bolin too. He had his hands around the woman’s wrists and was trying to lead her into the dark alley beside them. “Hey!” Bolin called out. “Let her go!”
The man stopped, a sinister smile creeping its way onto his features. “This doesn’t concern you, kid.”
Bolin wracked his brain for a clever reply, but when he couldn’t find one, he resorted to his next best option. He stomped against the ground, causing small boulders to pummel the man. He let go of the woman’s wrists and she ran over to Bolin.
The man let out a roar, jumping into the air and sending a slice of firebending at the two of them. They screamed and Bolin grabbed her hand, running back down the street and taking the back alley ways he knew so well.
“My place is the other way!” She shouted at him.
“I don’t think you wanna take him to where you live!” Bolin shouted back. They made a sharp right turn onto one of the busier streets in Republic City. Bolin stopped, using his head start to earthbend the ground up, completely blocking the man from following them. They dashed into the crowd then, Bolin’s grip still tight on the woman’s hand, until he was sure they were safe to stop.
“Thank you,” The woman said, hunched over as she caught her breath. When she stood, Bolin got a good look at her face. She wasn’t a woman at all: she was a girl, probably the same age as him. “I thought I had an agreement with the Triads to leave me alone, but that guy must not have gotten the memo.”
Bolin let out a laugh. “You have an agreement with the Triads?” The girl furrowed her brows and pouted.
“Gotta keep myself safe somehow,” She said. She looked down at her hands and sighed sadly. “When he grabbed me, he made me drop my dinner.”
“Oh no!” Bolin exclaimed. “Come with me, I know a place!”
“Thanks,” She said, “But I don’t have any money on me.”
“Let me buy you dinner!” The words came out before he could stop them, and he knew Mako would be so mad if he found out, but he couldn’t help himself. The girl raised an eyebrow.
“I don’t think it’s fair to make you pay for my dinner after you just saved my life,” She said with a laugh. Bolin smiled at the sound.
“How about this: you can repay me for saving your life by accompanying me to dinner. And if I—hypothetically—ordered too much food and couldn’t possibly let it go to waste so you’d have to eat it…then I think that’s fair!”
The girl smiled up at him. “Then I guess, hypothetically, I’d have to say yes.”
Bolin grinned and began walking in the direction of the restaurant, then paused. “Just to be clear, you are coming to dinner with me, right?” The girl laughed again and nodded.
They slid into the booth of Bolin’s favorite twenty-four-hour noodle shop. “They’ve got everything,” Bolin explained as they poured over the menu together. “Ramen, pho, pad thai…you name it, they have it.”
The girl hummed. “Think they have sea prunes?” Bolin’s face contorted into disgust. “I’m kidding! I hate sea prunes.” She picked up her menu, biting her lip as she looked at its contents. “Do you like soup dumplings?”
“Like soup dumplings?” Bolin asked. “I love them! They’re my favorite!”
“Mine too!”
“We’ll get a double order then,” Bolin decided. He went up to the counter and ordered their food. When he returned, he leaned his elbows onto the table. “So, what should I call you?”
“You mean besides the girl you just rescued? (Y/N) will do.”
“(Y/N),” Bolin repeated. He liked how it felt in his mouth. “Nice to meet you, (Y/N). I’m Bolin.”
---
“Bolin.” The boy snapped out of his thoughts, looking up at his older brother. They had returned home only a few hours ago and the sun was starting to come up. He could feel its warm rays cascading through his windows and onto his skin. “You need to go to bed,” Mako ordered.
“How can I possibly go to bed?” Bolin groaned, flopping sideways onto the couch. Pabu hopped up and curled himself into Bolin’s side.
“Easy,” Mako said. “You close your eyes and then you’re asleep.”
“Every time I try to close my eyes, I think of how (Y/N’s) on Air Temple Island and she has no idea who she is or who we are.”
“Try not to care about it, alright?” Mako poured himself a cup of tea. He had work in just a few hours. His under eyes were dark with exhaustion but as long as Bolin was awake, he’d remain awake. “We’ll figure it out and get her memories back and then she’ll go back to whatever she was doing when she left Republic City.”
Bolin chewed on his bottom lip. He had a feeling there was more to the story. The cogs in his head were turning tirelessly. He sat up, disturbing Pabu, and turned to Mako. “What if-“
“No, Bolin, you’re not gonna do that.”
“Do what?”
“Try to make excuses for everything that happened because she has amnesia.”
“But what if there’s something bigger?” Bolin asked. “She’s been gone for months and says she woke up a week ago without her memory. What happened in that time?”
“We’ll find out soon enough. They’re gonna have her do some meditating tomorrow to try to bring some of her memories back.” Mako sat beside Bolin on the couch.
“I should go back,” Bolin started to stand up. “I need to talk to her.”
“Bolin, no.” His brother pulled him back down. “You heard Kya. She can’t find out too much or she risks losing everything. While she’s focusing on getting her memories back, you need to focus on what you know: she broke your heart, little bro. She definitely didn’t have amnesia then.”
Bolin’s eager appearance deflated completely. He knew his brother was right but there was still a part of him that wanted to go see her. Maybe if Bolin told her about her past, then it would be okay. They’d had the strongest connection out of all of them.
---
That morning, (Y/N) sat between Korra and Tenzin in a gazebo. Her legs were crossed, her arms were loose in her lap, and she inhaled deep breaths to try to connect to any of her lost memories. All that she got was a whole lot of nothing. She peeked her eye open to look at Korra, who was blatantly staring at her.
“Keep your eyes closed!” Korra snapped.
“Your eyes were open!” (Y/N) argued.
“No one’s eyes should be open!” Tenzin grumbled decisively. The two girls sighed and returned to their previous states. (Y/N) inhaled another deep breath and tried to do what Tenzin had told her. She recounted the first memory she had: waking up and gasping for air, the night sky high above her. She could feel the grass that surrounded her. Once she had gained her bearings, she took in her surroundings. A small fishing village sat at the bottom of the mountain she had laid on. She got to her feet, legs wobbling, and looked at herself. Her coat was covered in spots of dirt. She reached into its pockets and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper. The writing on it was scribbled and quick, written with haste, and was obviously an address.
(Y/N’s) eyes popped back open. She didn’t notice anything different this time around. There hadn’t been anyone at her side. The first people she had interacted with had been the people in the village. They had asked her name and (Y/N) had started panicking when she couldn’t remember it. She didn’t want to delve too deep into that memory. She could still feel the pain and anxiety in it.
She buried her face in her hands. “I can’t remember anything! I’ve been trying for the past two hours and all I can see is the same memory I’ve been going over for the past week.” She felt the stinging behind her ears again, but took a breath to halt it. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to get so frustrated. I just don’t know anything and I know you guys do and trust me, I understand why you don’t want to tell me, but it stinks not knowing anything other than my name and that I’m a bad person.”
Korra frowned sadly at the girl. She knew what it was like, to be judged before she got the chance to redeem herself. While she had heard some pretty bad stories about (Y/N) from Mako, she also recognized that he was biased. Especially when it came to Bolin.
“How about we go into the city and get some lunch?” Korra asked. (Y/N) looked up at her gratefully.
“I don’t know if that’s the wisest idea,” Tenzin’s deep voice rumbled.
“Relax, Tenzin. We won’t talk about her life. She needs something normal right now.” Reluctantly, the man conceded.
Korra helped (Y/N) to her feet and whistled for Naga. The polar bear dog bounded toward them, her tail wagging excitedly. “(Y/N),” Korra said. “Meet Naga.”
The polar bear dog gave (Y/N) a huge lick on the side of her face. She giggled, rubbing behind Naga’s ears. “It’s so nice to meet you!” (Y/N) squealed. “I wish I had a pet just like you!”
“She’s kind of the best,” Korra admitted as she hopped onto Naga’s back. She pulled (Y/N) up to sit behind her.
“I don’t doubt it!” With a whip of her reigns, they burst into a run toward Republic City. (Y/N) couldn’t contain her laughter as they sped toward the water. She didn’t realize that they’d be traveling by sea until Naga dove headfirst into the icy water. (Y/N) closed her eyes tightly, gripping onto Korra’s back. The Avatar laughed.
“You can open your eyes now,” She called back to her. Slowly, (Y/N) relaxed and looked around. They traveled under the water in a giant bubble. Korra’s arms moved in flowing movements in front of her.
“You’re waterbending!” (Y/N) exclaimed.
“The Avatar is the master of the four elements,” Korra explained. “I’ve been training my whole life.”
“All four?” (Y/N) let out a gasp. “That’s so cool! I wonder if I was ever a bender.” Korra looked back at (Y/N) for a moment.
“You weren’t,” She said, her eyes kind as she stared at (Y/N). Although a little disappointed that she couldn’t bend, (Y/N) was grateful for Korra’s honesty.
“Thank you,” She said, a soft smile on her lips.
---
Tag List!
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#lok#legend of korra#korra x reader#asami x reader#mako x reader#bolin x reader#bolin#korra#mako#asami#writing#fanfiction
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chapter 3~a night on the town
(*i do not own this gif*)
A/N: hi everyone! this song is what I thought would be playing in a certain part of the story. I'll put a * at the part. yes, it's minecraft but i could care less bc it’s very calming and dreamy. i also quickly want to say thank you so much for the love on nauseous like it truly means a lot and it’s what’s keeping me going :’) if anyone could give a lesson in tumblr fanfic writing tho that would be great bc i feel like such a grandma xD thank you again for reading and enjoyyy :)
Category: fluff
CW: smoking weed (i don’t encourage this but please smoke responsibly if u ever do!)
Word Count: 1545
before you read | last chapter | next chapter
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You're suddenly in a beautiful part of the park. You didn't see this on your little mini tour, but it was magical. Spencer took you over to a giant tree on a small hill off the pond. The light from the moon made the water twinkle as the two of you sat under the tree. You felt like you were in a fairytale, and this was like a forest filled with fairy magic. It had rained a bit sometime in the late afternoon, so the ground beneath you and the leaves on the trees sparkled with dew drops. The sight of it all filled you with wonder. The night hadn't even really started yet and already you wished the sun never came up again. This couldn't end.
Spencer sat against the tree as he rummages through his bag to find his pen. "I'm speechless," You said as you sat down diagonal of him, "This place is breathtaking."
"I tend to come by here to read when I can't sleep or during the day having trouble on a case," said Spencer, "I found this spot around the time I first joined the BAU. It keeps me grounded."
You grab your pen out of your bag and hold it in your hands, waiting for Spencer. He finally finds his in the bottom of his bag and takes it out. You click your pens on and Spencer froze, not knowing what to do.
"Do we...cheers?" He asks, "Like we do when we drink?"
"Not usually, no," you chuckled, "But if you want to we can."
"You sound like you've done this before, Y/N."
"Meh, I experimented a bit in high school and college. But I never did it everyday like my classmates. Just here and there if I was really stressed."
Spencer brings his pen close to yours. "Well, cheers!" He says awkwardly.
"Cheers!" You giggle.
You both take three or four hits. On the last hit, Spencer started coughing. "Did you accidentally take a really big hit?" You ask.
"I think-" He coughs again, "-so!"
After his little coughing attack, you both laugh. You shift your weight onto your elbows. Legs straight out, you let the high take over your body. Spencer puts his head against the tree. He takes a couple more hits and let's it hit him. You start to feel the tingles again through your body and your eyes getting heavy.
"I wonder what the percentage of these carts are," you said, "I should ask Garcia."
"It must be a lot if I already feel like I smoked a whole blunt by myself."
"Well I was gonna that it's just because you're a beginner so you'll be a lightweight, but now you sound like you've done this before, Doctor."
"I swear I just know my research! I've never smoked before last night."
"Mmhmm, surrrre," you said as you started to get up from the ground, using the tree as support, "I'm sure it was just for that paper."
You grab your bag and rub the grass and dirt that was on your pants. You give a hand to Spencer as he gets up and you start heading outside of the park. You both stood there, looking around. "So, is there anywhere you'd like to revisit?"
You think for a moment. "How about the Lincoln Memorial?"
"Perfect!"
He lends his arm out and you link yours with his as you walk to the Lincoln Memorial. There was a nice cool breeze as you walked under the city lights, your blurry vision making it feel like you were in a movie. You looked up at Spencer and saw that his eyelids were a little bit lower than usual. You felt panic hit you as you unlock your phone and open snapchat. Turning the flash on, you look at the top of your phone and took a photo. You looked at your eyes and noticed they were a bit pink, but nothing to worry about.
"You ok?" asked Spencer.
"Yeah, I'm fine. My eyes get red easily when I'm high so I'm just checking."
"My dear, you look quite marvelous if I do say so myself!" He says, using a british accent, which made you laugh.
Finally, you made it to the memorial. You debated on climbing all those steps to the top, but Spencer made a bet that he could beat you to the top, and you weren't going to back out of a challenge. You both speed up the steps but Spencer beats you.
"Who's the pussy now, huh?" Spencer teases from what you said the night before, out of breath.
You put your hands on your knees, trying to catch yours. "Very funny, Doctor."
Once your breathing went back to normal, you slowly walked closer to the statue, admiring it. "You know," you began, "While my love for crime fighting was my whole life, I had a small interest in President Lincoln. I have no clue why, but I've been reading books about him since I was 4."
You paused for a moment, then turned around to face Spencer. "I have a fact for you, Doctor," you began, but then Spencer cut you off.
"You know you can call me Spencer or Spence, right? Come to think of it, you're the only one who calls me Spence."
"Ok, well Spence," you restated, "Have you heard of the theory that he might've been a closeted gay or bisexual man?"
"No actually, I haven't heard much on it only that it was debunked."
"That is true, but if it wasn't debunked I'd see him more as a closeted bisexual man, not gay."
"Why do you say that?" asked Spencer.
"Because people always forget about it. Bisexuality is real. He truly loved Mary with all his heart and would do anything for her, but I'm sure he questioned his sexuality at some point and just never went deeper into it."
You paused again, seeing if he was paying attention. You then turn back to face Lincoln and continued, "Take Freddie Mercury, for example. Now when he came out to his Mary, he came out as bisexual. But the public just took it as that he was gay because bisexuality wasn't seen by the public as a real sexuality, even Mary. It makes me angry at how long biphobia went on for. As someone who is bisexual, I don't want to feel like a ghost. I want to feel real."
Spencer slowly walks up behind you and puts a hand on your shoulder. He turns you around and you look up at him with glassy, pink-colored eyes. "Y/N, you are real. Everything about you is to me."
You put your hand on top of his, not breaking the look into each other's eyes. Or well, what you could see through his eyelids.
*The two of you then headed down the steps carefully and continue on your tour. But it slowly ended as you ended up walking down the empty streets. At one point, you ended up on cobble road. The two of you were pretty baked, as you would take more hits whenever no one was looking or there weren't too many people walking or driving. Spencer began to act like he was on a tight rope as he walked along parking blocks. He held your hand for support, trying not to fall and twist his ankle.
*You felt content. You never really experienced something like this before, but you always dreamt about it. You never really went out much when you were in school. You focused all your time in your room, working on schoolwork and keeping up with what Rossi was doing in the BAU and the cases they were working on. Rossi was like an idol to you. Ever since you met him, you wanted to do what he was doing; Saving people and getting the bad guys, protecting citizens. But you always dreamt of having an adventure like this with a true friend, and even though you had only known Spencer for a week now, he already was like that true friend.
*But you were also feeling something more. There was something about Spencer holding your hand that just felt...right. It was so hard to explain, even to yourself as you tried to figure out what you were feeling exactly. Maybe it was just the high you were feeling, but looking at his face, Spencer seemed to be quite cute. So cute, that you felt butterflies.
*He jumps off a parking block under a tall street lamp and grabs your other hand in his. He looks down to you as you look up. Finally, his lips lock with yours and you don't stop him. You kiss him back as your arms wrapped around each other, feeling every inch of each other's bodies.
Spencer breaks the kiss and cups your face in his hands. "Do you want to continue our little fun we had the other night?" he asked, almost in a raspy tone.
You nodded and kissed him again.
#spencer reid smut#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#spencer x reader#fan fiction#criminal minds#criminal minds smut#criminal minds fanfiction#dr reid#dr spencer reid#matthew gray gubler
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