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mangoshorthand · 1 year

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Could you possibly do Five x Reader where Five and the reader have a fight and the reader storms off. The next time Five sees them, they're in the infirmity, comatose, and no one is sure when, or even IF, the reader will wake up. Five has to sit with his regrets that the last thing he said was something he didn't mean and that he wasn't there to protect them when they needed it. When the Reader wakes up, Five breaks down in happiness, giving the reader all the love he can. Heavy Angst with a bit of fluff cause I like happy endings. Lol. Thank you!

This gave me serious flashbacks to the end of No Hard Feelings. Hope you enjoy this. Nothing like a bit of angst. Here ya go!

Dickhead Sugar Daddy | Five Hargreeves / GN Reader Words: 2.8k, rated T

It was such a stupid fight. He didn’t even believe what he said the moment he said it.

He insisted that you take that money. He wasn’t the type of guy to beg, but he came damn close. He watched you struggling to pay medical debt for an entire year before you let him pay it off for you. Until then, you were too proud to accept his help. He told you again and again that it wasn’t a big deal. It was only in four figures and his father left behind more money than he could ever use, even when divided among all his siblings.

“I’d give it to a friend,” he said, “even if you and I don’t work out, it doesn’t matter. Gotta be honest, I wouldn’t even notice if that amount disappeared from one of my accounts. You owe me nothing, okay?”

He could tell it made you uncomfortable and, truth be told, he didn’t much like the feeling of being a sexagenarian trust fund brat so out of touch with ordinary life that this amount of money wasn’t even a blip on his radar. After you finally accepted his offer, he hoped you could both just forget about it.

So why had he been such a colossal asshole?

The argument was about housework on top and booze underneath. Neither of you wanted to state the obvious fact that Five’s binge-drinking was becoming a problem so, instead, you fought about the consequences.

“God, turn that thing off, will you?” he shouted, irritably over the roar of the vacuum.

“Don’t talk to me like that.”

“Well, I’m sorry, darling,” he said, testily, “I just feel like shit, alright? I don’t need the goddamn vacuum in my ear.”

“Well, sorry Five, but the world doesn’t stop because you’ve got a hangover. My friend’s coming tomorrow and you promised we’d clean up today.”

“Here’s the thing: this is your friend, not mine.”

“But this is our home,” you snapped back, “we both live here and this is half your mess. You’ve been shitty about this all week.”

“Oh, so I can’t be busy?” he replied, smiling sarcastically.

“Oh yeah. So ‘busy’,” you said, doing the air quotes that would have made him punt you through a wall were you absolutely anybody else, “- busy farting around with math and looking for non-existent paradoxes around every corner.”

“It’s theoretical physics, moron. Maybe your tiny brain can’t comprehend what I’m doing, but I can assure you it’s more important than the shitty job you do all day.”

“Oh wow.” you said, laughing disbelievingly, “Well fuck you, dickhead.”

“Yeah?” he said, fire behind his eyes, “well don’t come crying to this dickhead the next time you need a sugar daddy.”

Your mouth dropped open. You stood there, frozen, looking into his face. Later, Five thought it could have gone either way in that moment: if only he’d apologized, perhaps he could still have stopped it.

But he would never know, because he didn’t apologize: he just let his shittiest, most insolent smile spread across his face.

You threw down the vacuum, grabbed your jacket and left without looking back.

At the time, Five considered it a job well done, only glad for the opportunity to rest his banging head. Over the following days, however, he would play your departure over and over in his head, scouring his memory for everything that proved his guilt.

You were agitated; probably too agitated to pay attention: his fault.

You were hurt; perhaps hurt enough to do something impulsive: his fault.

You were enraged; maybe your final thoughts as you stepped off the sidewalk were of how much you hated him. And it was all his fault.

He didn’t even know he was your emergency contact.

By the time the phone rang, he’d hauled himself off his ass and cleaned in preparation for your friend’s visit. He also guiltily made a reservation at your favorite restaurant, hoping to apologise over dinner.

So when he answered the phone, he expected your voice:

“Hi. Can I speak to Mr Hargreeves?”

It wasn’t your voice. It was a stranger.

“There are a few of us,” he replied, “you’re gonna have to be more specific there.”

“Mr Five Hargreeves?”

“Speaking.”

“Right. Hello. Uh- I’m a paramedic. I found this number in a patient’s phone’s I.C.E.”

He could barely register the rest of her explanation. As soon as he heard those four words: ‘hit by a bus’, his entire body went cold. His stalled brain could only repeat it again and again as horror encroached slowly into every fiber of his body.

Hit by a bus. A bus?...Hit by a bus?

He was only brought back to a sense of the here and now by the repeated summons of the voice on the other end of the line.

“Sir?....Sir?”

“Hit by a bus?” he asked, weakly, trying to keep a firm handle on his swimming head.

“Sir, I think you should sit down.”

He took the advice and collapsed into the straight-backed chair beside the phone, eyes fixed straight ahead of himself.

“I’m sitting down. I sat down.”

“Good. Now listen to me: you should try to get here as soon as possible. Give me your address and I’ll call you a cab, okay?”

“I don’t need a-”

“Sir,” the voice said, sternly, “give me your address. You don’t sound like you’re in a fit state to drive.”

Drive? He could as easily drive as he could fly right now. His legs trembled beneath him, his brain sending confusing, bewildered signals. He never folded in stressful situations, yet here he was shaking like a leaf.

“Sir?”

“My brothers,” he blurted, “I’ll get a ride from one of them.”

The paramedic was satisfied with this and gave him the hospital name again very slowly and deliberately. After accepting her good wishes and slamming the phone back in its cradle, he willed his body back into action, stumbling down the stairs and screaming for anyone who might be around.

Lila answered his call, and one look at his shocked, white face told her that this was serious.

As soon as he could have expected, he was entering your hospital room. Lila offered to accompany him, but he dismissed her with muted thanks. This was something he had to face alone.

Your face: bruised purple and cuts newly stitched. Your left leg: in a cast that went all the way up. But the doctors weren’t worried about the broken bones, they were worried by the head injury.

Comatose.

You were comatose because of him.

Standing there in the doorway, he was hit by his own bus. His guts constricted, breath catching in his chest.

“Don’t come crying to this dickhead next time you need a sugar daddy.”

As his own words echoed back to him, he squeezed his eyes closed, shutting out the sight and trying to gather himself. But it was too late. He whooped in a breath and felt the hot sting of suppressed tears behind his eyes.

All he could do was wait, they told him. The brain had a remarkable capacity to repair itself, they said. You might wake up and be just fine...but you also might not wake up at all.

He swiped at his face with his forearm.

Seconds were useless now: you needed seconds as soon as you stepped out into the road. If only he’d followed and apologized like he should have done immediately, he would have been there. He might have stopped it happening before it did, or he could have wound back time and undone it.

But now, hours since you were hit? His puny time-travel powers couldn’t help, not without decades of planning and tinkering and paradox-proofing. Perhaps more years than he had left to live.

If only he hadn’t been such a cunt in the first place. None of it would have happened.

“I’m sorry.” he whispered, from behind his own forearm held across his face, “Fuck. I’m so sorry.”

He sat at your bedside, teeth gritted against the tears he wouldn’t give himself the luxury of crying. He held your hand tight, as if torrential water might sweep you away were it not for him anchoring you.

He held your hand as if his grip might tether you to life.

And his mind preyed upon itself.

Yet again, his own selfishness had hurt someone he loved. And this time it was the person he loved more than anything. First, he abandoned his siblings for the sake of his own ego and now he’d probably killed you because he was a cruel, spiteful asshole.

“Don’t come crying to this dickhead next time you need a sugar daddy.”

He sat in silence for the rest of the daylight hours, listening to your heart monitor. Every new beep was a relief, the spaces between were looming and fear-filled. The silence held the possibility that the next beep might never come.

When darkness fell and the hospital’s bustle fell to a low ebb, he leaned forward and laid his head beside yours on the pillow.

“Please don’t die.”

And hearing himself say it was all it took for the dam to break. He couldn’t keep the tears in anymore. He cried like he hadn’t cried since those first years in the apocalypse, when he’d still been young enough to sob ‘I wanna go home!’ and ‘I want my mom!’ into the unhearing wasteland.

“Please.” he said, burying his red, tear-streaked face in your hair, “Please don’t leave me. I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it. I promise I didn’t.”

He tore in two or three gasping breaths.

“Please, angel. Don’t leave me. I can’t- I can’t-”

But he was crying too hard to speak. He raised his fist to his mouth and bit down on it to contain the wails clawing their way up his throat and threatening to burst bounds.

Cutting white teeth marks into his knuckles, he cried it out until he could control himself; until his voice could stay steady.

“You gotta wake up,” he whispered, “I can’t do this on my own anymore. I need you, okay? I’ll be better. I’ll be whatever you need me to be. Just don’t leave me.”

Another shaky breath.

“-you’re the fucking love of my life. I love you so much and without you I can’t even- I can’t.”

He screwed up his eyes again, trying to keep himself from re-dissolving.

“I can’t imagine getting up without you any more. I can’t imagine going to sleep without you. There wouldn’t be any point, y’know? I may as well just…”

He never finished the sentence. He felt like muscles and tendons in his chest were being pulled apart by strong hands.

Day time. He hadn’t slept, hadn’t washed, hadn’t eaten. He spent most of his time in the chair beside the bed, holding your hand in his, but he occasionally perched beside you on the bed, stroking your hair and talking almost nonstop.

“You’re gonna have to wake up soon, darling.” he said, “They say they’ll have to give you a feeding tube if you’re asleep for much longer. You won’t like that. So how about this: you always hate it when I don’t eat. You loom over me while I’m working and make me eat. So- how do you like this: I’m not gonna eat until you do.”

He made a satisfied noise as if you’d responded.

“Exactly- you don’t want that, do you. So you gotta wake up- it's the only way you can make sure I eat. I've got you there, haven't I?”

He looked down at his own hand over yours.

“And, to sweeten the deal, if you wake up before they have to put the feeding tube in, you get breakfast in bed every day for two months after we get home. And I’ll massage your feet on demand. Shit, I’ll let the world end rather than miss a single minute with you. I’m going to be better. I’ll do better with the booze. I swear, I’m going to be the perfect man. You deserve that. You deserve better. Please. Just wake up.”

What started off as light humor had devolved again into the desperate bargaining of the night.

He looked down at his shoes and felt exhaustion wash over him. He rubbed at his eyes with the palm of one hand and wished he had the faith requisite to pray.

A groan.

His head snapped back up so abruptly that it twinged his neck. His eyes scanned your face for any sign of life and found none. Just as he thought he’d imagined the sound, your hand twitched in his.

“Oh my God,” he whispered.

Eyebrows knitted, he sprang to his feet and called your name urgently, leaning towards you and resisting the urge to take you by the shoulders and shake you.

“Come on,” he urged, “say something. Open your eyes. Please, just let me know you’re in there.”

Slowly, and seemingly with as much effort as if your eyelids were weighted with iron, your eyes drifted open. They were vague and bloodshot, but they held his gaze.

“That’s it!” he said.

Tears, of joy this time, fell thick and fast again.

“Oh, thank fuck. I can’t believe it. Oh, fuck.”

Your mouth opened and a rusty voice spoke.

“Hello.”

“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

He bent towards you and held you to him as tightly as he could in your delicate state. His heart felt like it was about to burst out of his chest. Relief and euphoria rushed through his every atom. He kissed your forehead, each cheek and peppered several more across your nose and chin. He was too uncontrolled, too carried away by his own gladness to have finesse. Each kiss made a gentle smack against your skin.

“Who are you?” came your voice.

And it was like the sun going in. He straightened up, cautiously.

“It’s Five, angel,” he said, gently, “You remember me, right?”

“I’ve never seen you before in my life.”

His breath caught in his throat.

You had a brain injury. For some reason he hadn’t prepared himself for the fact that some things might be permanently broken.

But then your face broke into a hazy smile, and a halting creak issued from your chest. If he wasn’t mistaken, that sounded like-

“Ah wait, you’re that dickhead sugar daddy I know, aren’t you?”

You were laughing. You were fucking with him.

Another wave of relief coursed through him. He bent again and kissed you with a pumping heart and tightening lungs. His lips parted yours, desperate, tender and giddy.

“I love you,” he said, between kisses,”I love you, I love you. I c-can’t believe you’re okay!”

And again he was sobbing. He laid his forehead on yours and cried unashamedly into your face. One of your hands drifted slowly upwards and came to rest heavily on his shoulder. He cried that way for a few minutes while you looked up at him dreamily.

Eventually, when his crying began to lessen, you began to giggle slightly madly. He withdrew, looking down at you in a moment of confusion.

And then it hit him: the dosage of medication.

You laughed harder, your hand coming to thump him on the shoulder as something hilarious occurred to you.

“Guess what. Guess what, Five: now I’m gonna have…even more…medical…debt!”

You dissolved into a peal of helpless laughter, which he couldn’t help but join in with despite all his tears.

“Don’t think about that now. Dickhead sugar daddy’s got your back.”

He continued more seriously when his laughter subsided.

“I fucked up bad. I’m so sorry. I was sorry less than ten minutes after you left. I didn’t mean it.”

With the attitude of one who’s won a bet, you pointed at him weakly,

“Now you have to make me breakfast in bed every day for two months.”

“I will,” he grinned, “if you say you forgive me?”

You smiled but didn’t answer, letting out another little burble of laughter.

He decided that now might be a bad time to talk about what happened in too much detail. There would be time for heart-to-hearts when you weren’t dosed up on enough pain meds to knock out a bull elephant.

Instead, he kicked off his shoes and brought his legs up so that he lay on the very edge of the bed while taking up as little space as possible. He laid his head gently on your shoulder and heard you sigh with contentment.

Here it was: his longed-for second chance.

He felt his eyelids growing heavy. All was right with the world now.

“I don’t want the perfect man,” you mumbled.

“Huh?” he said, rousing himself.

“I don’t want the perfect man,” you repeated, “I want you.”

Request masterlist >> HERE

NOTE:

Feel free to contact me with more Five requests, that was super fun and I want more! I'm fairly versatile in what I write (fluff, smut, angst, psychological character study- I'll try it all) but I will consider them on a case by case basis. See masterlist for more.

#the umbrella academy #the umbrella academy imagine #umbrella academy x reader #the umbrella academy five #umbrella academy number five #umbrella academy five x reader #umbrella academy five x you #five hargreaves x you #five hargreaves x reader #number five imagine #five hargreeves imagine #number 5 imagine #number 5 x reader #number five x you #five hargreeves x gn reader

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ask-hannah-blog · 4 months

Text

“Daisy get in here!”

She shuffles in with her tail between her legs. She’s been feeling me stew all day and knows she’s in trouble.

“Another good week Ms. Hannah…” she fiddles with her fingers.

“Don’t act stupid, you told Bambi we were sleeping together.”

“Well she’s been wanting to sleep with for a while, so when I got to I…”

“Shut up!”

She looks shocked, I would never have talked to her like that. Maybe not when she was a human but this stupid little secretary had to go and let herself be clowned. “Whu?” I can almost see her eyes sparkling with humanity, as if to finally see how out of hand we’d let all of this get.

“I didn’t ask for your idiotic point of view. Your loose lips caused Bambi a lot of pain today, and you discussed my personal life with a client. We don’t let these two things cross, so you understand?”

“It’s my personal life too…” she mumbles like a brat.

“No it’s not.” I say more hautily than I’m used to. “What I do with you is none of your business.”

She gawked at me. “How could you say that?”

“You’re my secretary, a piece of office equipment. You’re just a stapler I can fuck. You have no right airing my personal details to clients, or interfering with my clients the way you have.”

“Well I’m uh… I’m sorry Ms. Hannah.”

“On your knees.”

We’re both surprised by how easily she falls to her knees. She looked up at me with those big pliant eyes. I put my fingers through her green hair just like the fantasy I’d had that morning. I giggled excitedly just barely able to hold on to my dominating attitude. “Let me put you in your place.”

She was blushing, excited for whatever I had in store for her. Though she couldn’t have been expecting…

I pulled her head towards me, and turned around at the same time. I pressed her face into the butt of my pants, into my ass and…

Prrrrrrt!

I farted right in her face. She grumbled and n me ace pathetic little mewling sounds as my ass perfume filled her nose, burned her throat.

I couldn’t help but chuckle as she struggled to get away from my ass. Farts are just so funny, and it was even funnier that she was smelling mine!

Hehe Hyuk!

I took mercy on her after a few seconds in there and let her breath fresh air. She coughed even as I held her hair tight in my grip. “Get it? You’re a silly little fart toilet Daisy. People don’t want to hear gossip from a fart toilet.”

“Ooooooh”90 she was woozy fit to fall over.

I was giggling manically. “I still don’t think you get ,it fart for brains. Let me stuff your head a little bit more!” Laughing I pulled her face back into my ass and let it rip.

Pfffft prt pffffffffffffffftttttt!

I raised a leg like a peeing dog marking my territory and I guess I was!

I let her go and she fell back from my butt laughing. I looked at her closely as she laughed so her tears were streaming down her face. There was a sickly green gas leaking out her mouth, out her nose and ears

I smiled down at her. “Isn’t it funny we ever treated you as anything but a dumb little clown?”

She chuckled and goes to play with herself even as wisps of my fart still drift out of her empty head.

But I stop her, I grab her hand and pull her over to a mirror. She smiles at herself as I kiss her on the cheeks. “Look at yourself Daisy.” She does so. “Now cross your eyes, good, stick your tongue out, so cute, and give us a big smile.” She followed my introductions perfect making the face I’m the mirror look quite stupid. “Now look at yourself, that’s not a very smart looking girl is it?”

“No.” She giggled and shook her head.

“No it’s not, that’s the face of a dummy, an idiot, an imbecile. She a girl who looks like that be giving advice to any of my clients?”

She shook her head.

“No I don’t think so either. It doesn’t look like she’s thinking at all does it?”

She shook her head again.

“That’s because she’s not. I want you to stare at yourself in this mirror until this pose becomes comfortable for you, until it becomes second nature. This is the face you’ll make when you try to think of something that has nothing to do with your job, your eyes will cross, your tongue will drop out of your mouth, and you’ll smile. You’ll smile because you’ll have stopped thinking. Understand.”

“Yesh.” She tilted her head side to side like she was trying to understand how she could look so silly and dumb.

“Good, now bring your degree in on Monday, I have plans for it.” I went to leave my office, collecting my bag and everything. “You keep looking until you get it right, even when f it takes all weekend, but be sure to lock up when you leave! Love ya!”

#transformation #mind control #ask blog #hypnosis #clowntf #clown girl #clown #fart kink #face farts

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hyogonokitsune · 3 years

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haikyuu boys as things my fwb has said to me, part 2

atsumu

I may or may not have slightly edited my tinder photos to make my ass look fatter

I hate having manners

I’m gonna kill myself I just found a tick in doomah. doomah? do mah nuts fit in your mouth 😎

is it weird for me to be obsessed with how big all my friends’ dicks are? whatever

oh, I’m kinda surprised you didn’t smack my ass just now. did you want me to? yeah 😔

oikawa

I just... really wanna get pegged

why didn’t you tell me my lips were so chapped?? I look disgusting

happy pride month, my bisexual queen. although I think you should be wishing me a happy pride, because I’ve recently developed crushes on some UFC fighters and it’s making me question some things

I hear that cum is a good skin soother

I’m only obsessed with select men’s penises

kuroo

only bad bitches have IUDs 😤

look at how small my dick is when it’s soft. just a teeny lil winkie

your coochie is immaculate

a clown must always ride around in his or her clown car, metaphorically, physically, and emotionally

I almost got into an accident the other day. I was, uhh, playing chess on my phone on the highway

I vacillate between a lovable moron and a hyper intelligent troll

suna

*shares positive feedback I got from a professor* that means he wants to stuff you

my friend paid me $50 to do shrooms with him, so that’s why I’m tripping at the gym right now

I’ll pay for us to go mini golfing, and then I’ll take you out for dinner but I’m just gonna pay for my own meal :)

I might have become like a low key drug dealer. just a little bit

middle parts are 💯

osamu

*sends him a picture of a cake I made* that looks BUSSIN

I’m not gonna lie, I’m a little bitter that all these ticks are crawling on me and none of them are on you

those trees that smell like cum are blooming again

I wanted to kiss you just now, but I have Taki breath

do you think it would be disrespectful to bring some snacks with us on this walk through a cemetery?

do you remember that park we were in last night? apparently they found a body there a few weeks ago. whatever

bokuto

how soon is too soon to piss in front of someone in the woods?

the neck is one of the body’s androgynous zones. you mean erogenous zones? yeah that’s what I said

*gets not one, but two bowling balls stuck in the gutter*

sorry I can’t hug you for too long, I might get a boner and we’re in public

kita

come here, let’s enjoy the transient beauty of nature together

are you feeling touch starved? you want a hug?

I’m sorry you had a bad day queen 😔

he needs some goat milk to straighten him out, show him some discipline

sakusa

this is the most disgusting city on the planet, god bless 🙏🏼

god damn, my skin is absolutely glowing today

you’re my favorite little whore

hinata

what’s your wifi password? uhh, BingusBingus

hey can I give you a penny? just so I can say I’ve paid someone for sex

it’s easier for guys to pee wherever they want, but pooping is the great equalizer

I did not shit in those woods. I shat in some other woods

I’m smarter than the average pill bug

iwaizumi

is it homophobic of me to not let you win at bowling?

you sometimes speak like abe lincoln

do I pick friends based on if they are attractive? sometimes

tanaka

I just farted outside of my friend’s house and sent it to him as an audio clip to antagonize him

I just pissed for 55 seconds, who wants to try and beat my record?

god gave me a dick and balls so I could helicopter them at my nemesis's funeral

I’d let you do literally whatever you wanted to me. that made my balls happy reading that

I don’t get the hot boy attention I deserve from enough women

kenma

you listen to music while you go on walks, I listen to podcasts on bloodborne lore while I go to the gym using my stolen membership, we are not the same

quarantine did irreparable damage to my brain

*sends a picture of him holding a frying pan over his sleeping friend’s head* I’m about to tom & jerry this bitch

➣masterlist

➣taglist (let me know if you want to be added!)

@crystal-lilac @rinniesbbygirl @rinsangel

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spencersscout · 3 years

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Candlelit

WORDCOUNT: 2k

WARNINGS: smut, fluff, angst if you squint really hard, pwp, soft dom!reader/sub!spencer, takes place w season 4 spencer, nervousness, references to past sexual conduct, my immortal style outfit descriptions?, some boobie sucking, riding, unprotected sex, creampie, implied fem reader but gendered pronouns aren’t used

“Doubt thou the stars are fire; Doubt that the sun doth move; Doubt truth to be a liar; But never doubt I love.” - William Shakespeare, Hamlet

***

February is not, by far, Spencer’s favorite month of the year. It always dredges up horrible memories, ones of looking into Tobias Hankel’s glassy cornflower blue eyes and choking on his own foamy saliva. It’s only been two years since he went into that field, all alone, abandoning protocol and all common sense. It’s only been two years, but even if he doesn’t love February, he does love you.

It’s your first valentine’s day together and Spencer is determined to make it incredible for you. He cannot afford to fall short, he must sweep you off of your feet and hopefully into his bed. He knows deep down that all he’d have to do is ask but he wants to do this romance thing properly and excite you in a way you probably haven’t been in their relationship. If you’re bothered by his inexperience, you haven’t said so and in fact, you’ve shown him over and over again that you adore teaching him how to cuddle, how to kiss, and how to make love.

You are operating under the assumption that your date is going to be low key. It will be, he knows that sparkling, dazzling restaurants with meals you can’t pronounce or pay for isn’t exactly your style. So Spencer is cooking. And it is a disaster.

Murphy’s Law states that everything that can go wrong will most definitely go wrong. So far, it has. Spencer has charred the alfredo sauce, boiled the water over onto the stove, dropped half of the pasta directly into the sink in an attempt to drain it and lightly burned his wrist for good measure. He chalks it up to his nerves. Spencer isn’t a great chef by any means, but he’s never done this badly before. Not even when you were coming over. But now it’s getting to be too late to fix it and you’re going to be here any minute and he doesn’t have any food to offer you.

As if on cue, there’s a soft knock at his front door. He stumbles through the kitchen and flings the door open, startling you where you stand on the other side. You look incredibly gorgeous, with a silky red dress draped across your figure, really emphasizing his favorite parts of you and dipping low in the front, exposing your sternum. He takes your hand and kisses the back of it gently, as if this will make up for his shortcomings on today of all days. You smile so big that your eyes crinkle and throw your arms around his neck. He brushes his nose into your shoulder, taking a deep inhale as he takes you into his arms. Your perfume smells like his favorite candle, a mixture of pomegranate and coconut. You break away from the embrace just enough to squish his cheeks gently between your palms.

“Hi, handsome,” you mumble, not looking him in the eyes but at his lips and he is happy to oblige you. Kissing you feels like the first time every single time. It makes his heart stammer in his chest and his stomach do backflips and his hands get way sweatier than they should. You press your teeth gently onto his lower lip to indicate that he should open and then you swipe your tongue along the delicate skin.

You break away and Spencer tries to follow you with his mouth, eyes still closed. He only stops when he hears you laugh, like tinkling bells, sparkling and high and pretty. You rub your thumb across his bottom lip and in response, Spencer melts into a puddle of genius goo in his doorway.

“You gonna invite me in, Doc?”

“Oh, right, sorry,” he says, without moving an inch.

Your left eyebrow quirks up and your right one furrows down. “You do realize that you will have to move so I can come in, yes?”

Spencer swallows thickly and side steps so you can brush past him in a flurry of red silk, dark eyelashes and soft perfume. You slide your cardigan-is that his?-down off of your shoulders, revealing the soft skin of your back and shoulders to him. He knows there’s nothing so intimate about skin, but something about the slightly uneven bow you’ve tied to hold the dress up and the memories he has of looking at and touching you is a little much for him.

You turn your head and catch his eye. He sees something devilish, glinting and dancing, just out of reach, and before he can say anything at all, you’re tugging on his tie and dragging him closer to you. He chose his nicest one for the occasion, burgundy, over a crisp, dark brown shirt and a cream colored vest. Penelope had helped him pick the combination out and he’s feeling a little nervous about it now, especially because it’s paired with his just-a-little-too-big khakis. He’s taller than you, even with your heels, so his neck is bent at a slightly awkward angle but he doesn’t really mind at all because your lips are brushing past his and your index finger is hooked firmly into his belt loop.

“What do you say we skip dinner for now?” You purr, almost touching the corner of his mouth with yours. He gives an emphatic nod yes and you run your thumb over his belly before tugging by the belt loop to get him impossibly closer before running your other hand down his chest. With the tightness in his slacks increasing steadily, he latches his hands onto your waist and he kisses you again, this time even more feverishly than before.

You gasp against his mouth as he digs his fingertips into the soft flesh of your hips, and he relishes in the sound. It’s his favorite one, soft and breathy and unmistakable and this time it’s Spencer who’s running his tongue along your lips to ask you to open without using his words. You do and he momentarily loses track of your hands until he finds them again, loosening his tie around his neck. You break away then, just to pant, “As gorgeous as you look right now, this has to come off.”

The heat in Spencer’s belly climbs up to his chest and he knows he’s flushed pink all over from the compliment. It still leaves him entirely shell-shocked to hear that you find him just as attractive as he finds you, so his brain completely pauses every time. He starts back up when you start back to his bedroom, intertwining your fingers with his to guide him with you.

“Wait, wait, just wait out here for just a second,” he says, as he starts to speed walk backwards. You look just a bit confused but you do as he tells you, probably more out of curiosity than anything else. Usually you’re so completely in charge of your jello-kneed boyfriend that he doesn’t even have the brain left to formulate an order.

He only leaves you in the dark for a moment before he pokes his head out of the bedroom and beckons you in. Inside, he’s lit as many candles as he was comfortable with (four) and scattered rose petals across the floor. He gave you flowers earlier today already but there’s another bouquet on his bedside table. You jut out your lower lip just a little and give him those puppy eyes just before you all but tackle him to the bed. His back thumps against his bed just hard enough to wind him a little and your mouth is on his before he can catch his breath again.

He lets out a whine that is higher pitched than he’d care to admit as your core grinds against the crotch of his pants. Your dress has ridden up your thighs and he can see just a peek of your panties, lacy and white and sheer and he’s trying to reach up to untie the dress so he can fully see but you pin his hands down.

“You first, Doc.” He’s fumbling to undo his buttons-why are there so many buttons?- and somehow even though you’re both tugging at his clothes, they aren’t coming off nearly fast enough. And you’re getting a little impatient so you reach up to untie the back of your own dress and tug the front down to expose your breasts. He abandons his own clothing, vest off, shirt half unbuttoned and pants halfway down in favor of taking one of your breasts into his mouth and sucking at your nipple just to hear the sounds you make. He takes the other one in his palm to knead at the soft skin and rests his other hand on the small of your back to pull you as close as physically possible.

You pull away just enough to tug your dress the rest of the way off and he whimpers at the sight of you, naked except for panties clearly damp with arousal, your nipples flushed. You rest your palm on his exposed chest, digging your nails into his skin just hard enough to sting but not hard enough to hurt.

“I-I, I need you. Now. Please?” Spencer breathes and even though he normally would take his time warming you up, getting you stretched, he knows he can’t handle it right now. It’s too good and it’ll be over before you get to the main event. You tug your panties to one side and tug his waistband down to allow his cock, aching and drooling, to peek out. It hits his stomach with a light thwick but he doesn’t even have time to acknowledge it before you’re sinking down on him, hissing at the stretch.

Spencer pulls you in for another kiss, this one sloppy and breathy as you both gasp against each other’s mouths. You roll your hips and he hangs onto you for dear life, groaning so loudly that he feels sorry for his neighbors. It won’t be long. He’s close.

“I’m close, please-” Spencer chokes out.

“I am too, baby, it’s okay, come on,” you groan as you steady yourself even more firmly against his chest. The sounds your bodies are making together are obscene, skin slapping and sliding together.

“I don’t, I’m gonna, we didn’t-” Spencer is trying to tell you that it’s now and he can’t stop it from happening but he’s not wearing a condom but the words keep getting lost from him, his voice thick and heavy.

“It’s okay, I’m on the pill just,” you grab his hand, guiding him to your panties. He knows what you want, so he pulls them even farther, probably stretching them so bad you won’t be able to wear them again, and clumsily thumbs at your clit in that not quite circular motion you like. He feels your orgasm first, pulsing and fluttering around him but then he can’t pay attention to you anymore because he’s spilling over inside of you and stopping you from moving so he can hold you as tightly as he possibly can. He lets his head fall back with his eyes closed for just a moment and you take the opportunity to slide off of his now spent cock and curl into his side, placing a gentle hand on his cheek and stroking it with your thumb.

“I love you,” he mumbles, eyes still closed.

“I love you too.”

“I burned dinner.”

“I know. Do you wanna call in some pizza while I pee?”

“Yeah, sure.” He opens his eyes to look at you, pupils blown, mouth swollen and makeup smeared, and he never ever wants to let you go. You seem to see it in his face, so you kiss his knuckles and say, “I’ll be right back. Then I’m all yours.”

***

“We loved with a love that was more than love.” - Edgar Allen Poe, Annabel Lee

#valentine's special #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #sub spencer reid #spencer reid smut #smut

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remuscore · 3 years

Note

remus laying on some random side because cuddles make it easier for him to come up with ideas? maybe? idk i just like remus cuddles

Alright. Against my better judgement I made this about Logan and Remus lmao.

Warnings: Please don’t tag as Intrulogical just appreciate the allyship for a moment

————————

Remus wasn’t very cuddly. He hates being touched in any way, shape, or form. If you weren’t taking him in the back or the front, you didn’t get to touch him. Unless you were Janus, of course. Janus gets to do what he wants. He asks before doing anything, unlike the others.

But sometimes Remus needed a bit of physical attention that didn’t come from strong sexy hands pinning him against something sturdy.

Janus liked to be cuddled more than he liked cuddling someone. Virgil didn’t want Remus anywhere near him on a good day so cuddling was out of question. Roman was only nice enough to give cuddles when Remus was too out of it to even notice. And Remus would rather shoot himself than cuddle Patton, no matter how great his hugs are.

That leaves one man that Remus has never gotten a hug or cuddle session from.

“Logan, do you need a hug?” Remus asked one day, popping up on the ground next to Logan who was tapping away at his desk.

Logan jumped and grabbed the closest thing near him— a very heavy looking book— and slammed it down on Remus’ head. Remus rubbed the spot tenderly, and Logan dropped the book on his desk like it burned him.

“Remus, I’m sorry, are you—” he started, stumbling over himself. He finally caught up with what was happening and his shock and fright turned into anger. “What are you doing in my room?! My door was locked, how did you get in?!”

“I wanted a hug but you gave me a concession.”

“What?”

“Do you want a hug?”

“What?” Logan repeated. He was more confused than the first time Remus asked. He shook his head and waved him off. “I don’t care, just go back downstairs and leave me alone.”

“You didn’t answer my question,” Remus said. He shuffled closer with his arms outstretched the best he could sitting right next to a desk. “Do you want a hug?”

“No,” Logan answered instantly, but Remus didn’t drop his arms. They stared at each other longer, Logan’s suspiciously narrow eyes staring at Remus’ unusually large puppy eyes. He grimaced. “What is the catch?”

“You have to hug me back.” Logan made a disgusted sound and turned back towards his computer.

“No,” he said firmly and continued his work. Remus still sat there, waiting. He wasn’t going to give up. He was going to get a fucking hug today and it was going to be from Logan. Even if he had to steal it from him.

Too many minutes went by since their conversation finished, and Remus still sat there in the same position. His arms were starting to get tired, however, and Logan was definitely getting tenser and more annoyed with every second Remus didn’t move. At the ten minute mark, Remus let out a whine and Logan hit the desk with his fist, letting out an annoyed growl.

“Fine!” He snapped. He spun his chair back towards Remus and angrily lifted his arms. “Just hug me so that you can leave.”

Remus squeaked and quickly climbed onto Logan’s lap, startling the smaller man. There were small, flustered complaints coming from him, trying to ask what he was doing. Remus ignored them all and wrapped himself into the smallest ball he could and tucked himself under Logan’s arms, hugging one of them to his chest. Logan was paralyzed at first, definitely not expecting Remus to cuddle up against him like this. Remus likes to be unexpecting, so this just made him happier as he relaxed against Logan’s chest.

“Hold up your part of the deal, brain fart,” Remus says, squeezing his arm again. Logan gets over his shock with help from the childish nickname. He shifts a little and carefully laid his free arm over Remus’ arm, like he thought Remus might jump up and bite at him. Normal, he would, but he just wanted a hug right now.

They both settle a little easier now as both sit comfortably. Remus tucks his head farther under Logan’s chin and sighs, closing his eyes as his mind finally grows silent. The tension in his shoulders falls as he whispers while Logan rubs his arm slowly.

“That’s better.”

#it speaks #remus sanders #logan sanders #fic #request

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dancingazaleas · 3 years

Text

ymir & historia reiss | addition

i literally never stfu abt them so why not write abt them

THIS IS A POLY ONESHOT!!! i love them but it’s hard to imagine them with someone else (romantically) so why not both! this post is so long and kind of cringy i’m so sorry besties 😞

warnings/notes: cursing, angst to comfort/fluff, modern au!, college au!, reader, historia, and ymir are 19-20.

you groan and slam your head against your desk, ymir just laughs at you, sitting to your right. the two of you were in your geography class and you felt like your brain was melting.

“it really isn’t that hard,” ymir nudges your ribs with her elbow.

“easy for you to say. you’ve been around the world, i’ve barely left trost,” ymir rolls her eyes as you whine into your arms, “you’re also literally majoring in paleontology. you’ve been into it since you were a kid, like a nerd.”

“i might just punch you for that,” she threatens, “historia was pretty good in geography back in highschool. maybe she can tutor you?”

when ymir said historia’s name, it felt as if you were getting whiplash from how you felt giddy and then felt slightly bitter.

historia has been your best friend ever since the two of you were 17 and met at a bed, bath, and beyond store. she goes to community college, her dad forbade her from university and she only agreed if it she could go. when you gushed about the university you’re currently going to, she immediately started listening and asking what classes you were in.

that’s how she found out you have geography with her girlfriend, and your other best friend, ymir. she started squealing and decided to introduce the two of you.

you both tried to intimidate one another when you first met a year ago, but once historia said something about farting from anxiousness you both bursted into laughter.

that’s how you integrated into their lives. you hang out with the both of them almost everyday, you talk to them everyday, you eat lunch together every thursday, and you three even go see new movies together on saturdays.

within the first four months of befriending the both of them, you felt like as if you were ruining the their alone time. multiple times you had come to hang out with ymir and/or historia only to find out that they were having a date night. even if they invited you to join after, you still felt guilty.

you also felt guilty for feeling jealous and sad whenever they both would show affection for each other. you didn’t know what you were/are jealous of and you don’t know what would make you sad about them being happy.

but you realized what exactly was making you feel that way when ymir and historia started pestering you about your love life. specifically, about a girl named hitch that they think you’d like. and ymir asked you if you’d ever even been in love before. after a few minutes of contemplating, you told her yes.

you love them both. you wanted to be with the both of them.

but you never could be. they don’t love you in the same way as each other. they don’t want to kiss you, hold you, and sleep with you.

and you know that.

“hey doofus, class ended. you comin’?,” ymir’s voice shook you out of your trance.

you look at her and nod, shoveling your stuff into the tote bag you use as your backpack. the two of you are going to meet historia for lunch, you both don’t have classes after 12. thank god.

it’s raining when you two step outside and ymir’s rambling about what restaurant the three of you should go to for lunch as you both walk to her car. you tell her you’re okay with anything as the two of you get in the car, which makes her whip her head towards you and pause after you’ve closed the doors.

“alright, what’s wrong with you,” she asks abruptly.

“what? why are you asking?”

“you’ve been so spacey and quiet lately, you’re hooking up with people, and now you’re okay with eating whatever? you’re a little picky about your food. and you usually never shut up. something is up,” she’s started the car and is no driving out of the parking lot.

“it’s just classes and work. i’m fine. i don’t wanna talk about it,” you shrug and look out the window. you don’t want to look at ymir.

“you’re lying,” she scoffs and shakes her head, “liar.”

you just ignore her and keep staring outside the window.

the rest of the car ride is silent excluding the tame impala song ymir’s playing on the radio. you almost jump for joy whenever the restaurant that historia and ymir must’ve decided on is in view. historia’s standing is sitting on a bench outside of the restaurant, holding an umbrella over her head and a smile shows up on her face when she sees the two of you pulling up. she’s stands up and waits for ymir to park and for you both to get out of the car. it makes your heart flutter a bit. she’s gorgeous.

you almost lunge out of the car whenever the door’s are unlocked, catching the attention from them both. you start fast walking towards the doors of the restaurant, but historia is blocking your path with her arms out wide to give you a hug.

you don’t want to hug her. you don’t want to burst into tears from the hug alone. she’s closing in on you, but you manage to swerve to the left and successfully dodge the hug. you scurry into the restaurant before she can get another chance to hug you. historia and ymir give each other a look of confusion and sadness.

after they exchange a peck on the lips, they follow you into the restaurant. when they get inside, they’re met with the view of you chatting excitedly and bashfully with the hostess, who’s name tag says nifa.

when nifa starts leading you to your table, you spare them a look that says to follow you. while nifa’s leading everyone, you’re both still laughing and blushing. historia and ymir give look at one another, feeling somewhat bitter at seeing this. you hadn’t even said anything to historia and you’ve barely talked to ymir all day.

the couple almost cry out a thank you whenever you’re all seated and nifa leaves.

you start looking at your menu aimlessly. you’ve been here before and you know what you want. but anything to avoid eye contact with ymir and historia, and it makes them sad.

“(name), did you know the hostess? seemed like you two were good friends,” you look up from the menu to see historia leaning towards you while smiling.

“no, i don’t know her. she said i looked familiar and we started talking about if we go to the same university. only to find out that i have a class with her,” you look embarrassed as you start to stare out of the window.

ymir hums in response and the waiter makes his appearance before historia can ask something else. you all decide to order your food at the same time of your drinks—it speeds up the process. when the waiter leaves, the table falls into an uncomfortable silence.

a couple minutes later, you’re scrolling through social media and taking a sip of your drink that was brought to you. you’re debating if you should text the groupchat you’re in with eren, mikasa, and armin. but before you can even make the decision, ymir and historia clap quietly, a signal that the food is here.

even when you’re all eating, the silence is unbearable. you feel like banging your head against a window. you opt to stare outside of it instead.

for some reason, this sets ymir off and she drops her silverware against the plate, the noise startling you and historia.

“alright,” she’s still chewing, “what the fuck is up with you? something’s obviously wrong, and you won’t tell us for whatever fucking reason. you’ve been so distant towards historia and i lately, you’re not even talking to us that much in person, you reject historia’s hug, and you seem so spacey lately!! you’ve also been rejecting our invites to hanging out when it isn’t thursday or saturday. you can’t just act like this and then expect us to not fucking notice the obvious changes. so what the fuck is wrong?”

you struggle to reply, “i’ve just been... stressed with school work and stuff. i’ve got a lot of stuff on my mind. how have i been distant?”

ymir slams her hand onto the table, and that’s when you realize that she’s actually pissed off. she’s pointing her finger at you as she starts raising her voice, attracting attention from other customers.

“you told me that you don’t have much work unless finals or what the fuck ever is coming up and finals end two fucking months ago! you fucking avoided hugging historia, and you’ve known her for years. but you’re so happy to chat with the fucking hostess, who met today. you’re acting like you don’t want to be our friend anymore, and if that’s the case then fucking tell us up front. it’ll save us some pain,” she spits and historia’s slapping her bicep and trying to get her to stop.

your throat feels clogged as your eyes start to tear up. you look petrified.

after a few seconds of you staring absentmindedly, you’re crying. fat tears rolling down your face and dripping onto the table as you bite on your bottom lip to avoid sobbing. you’re eyebrows are drawn upwards and you can’t stop sniffling.

you don’t want to lose them, but you don’t want to tell them. ‘this sucks,’ you think.

both historia and ymir are taken aback at your tears and feel the guilt crawling up their shoulders. you’re not easy to push to tears, it’s how you’re able to be around ymir. whatever’s upsetting you, it must be really stressful.

“(name),” historia speaks softly and puts her hand over your’s, “i’m sorry ymir made you cry. we’re just worried about you, but that doesn’t excuse the way ymir reacted. do you want to talk about it?”

you let out a broken sob as your shoulder shake, “take me home. take me home please.”

“wh—ow!!” ymir is slapped hard by historia.

“are you sure that’s what you want? you know you can tell us anything, right?”

you nod and let out a hiccup. historia frowns but chooses not to say anything and starts digging in her purse for her wallet. she pulls out a fifty and puts it onto the table, pushing ymir gently to get her outside of the booth. you’re getting out of the booth, scrubbing your wet eyes and trying to hide from nifa.

“i’m gonna drive you back to your apartment, okay? ymir, can you get their stuff out of your car,” she gently holds onto your arm while ymir begrudgingly obeys.

you get in the passenger seat of her car, covering your face as you start crying harder. historia’s standing at the front of her car, talking about something with ymir. whatever it is, it’s upsetting the both of them and you can’t help but feel like they’re arguing about you.

they seem to come to a conclusion, seeing as historia gives ymir a kiss on her lips. she’s getting in the driver’s seat, handing over your bag full of textbooks and laptop.

when historia starts the car, her car starts playing a tennis song that makes you smile. she switches it to soft lofi music to help you feel just a bit calmer.

the drive is mostly quiet besides your sobbing and crying. historia’s holding one of your hands in silent support.

she feels guilty and confused. had ymir really upset you that bad? what are you so upset about? is it because of us?

historia loves you dearly; both as a cherished friend and as a lover. it was the same for ymir, but historia had told her that you might defriend them if they confessed. they don’t even know your thoughts on polyamory.

they’d rather keep your friendship then possibly ruining it.

before historia can say a goodbye, you’re slamming the car door and jogging up towards your apartment.

‘this sucks,’ you think again and a loud sob rocks through your body. you’re unlocking the door with shaky hands. you go to swing the door open only for it to bounce back right into your face because the fucking deadlock is on.

you fall onto your ass, fumbling to get onto your feet. out of all the times mikasa, your roommate, wants to have her girlfriend, annie, over, why does it have to be now. you sob as you bang your fist against the front door, yelling for mikasa to let you inside. you’re probably going to get a noise complaint, but you don’t really care.

when there’s no sign of either or mikasa or annie coming to the door, you realize that they must be knocked out. both of them are heavy sleepers and mikasa’s room is furthest from the door, there’s no chance they’re going to wake up.

you slam the door shut and the urge to puke is strong. you’re going to have to go over to historia and ymir’s place. you start crying even harder, starting to tug onto some of the strands of your hair. you sit on the ground against the wall, knees pressed to your chest as your hands cover your eyes again.

this whole day has been shit, starting when you hung out with ymir and historia before your geography class. they were so affectionate with on another and all you could do is watch in want.

you hear the clacking of heels getting closer and you assume it’s historia.

“(name),” it’s historia, “c’mon. i’ll take you back to my house.”

you sniffle and silently get back up onto your feet. your jeans are damp from the rain and the feeling of it sticking to your legs has you cringing. scratch that—your whole body was damp from the rain.

you’ll take a hot shower later, when mikasa isn’t dead asleep along with her girlfriend.

you find out you’re wrong about your previous statement and in 15 minutes, you find yourself undressing in ymir and historia’s bathroom. they told you to get in the shower, shoving a big shirt and underwear you’ve left over at their house into your arms. you know that they’re clean, ymir is forced to do laundry every sunday.

you stand under the shower faucet, silently enjoying the piping hot water falling against your skin. you’re done in a matter of ten minutes, toweling your hair and then brushing it. you gather your wet clothes after you unlock the bathroom door and push it open.

steam rolls out of the room when the door opens and some of it trails behind you as you walk to find ymir. she’s sitting on the couch, munching on a KIND bar and watching the show victorious—it’s her guilty pleasure. she perks up when she sees you though, taking the clothes out of your arms and whisking away towards the washing machine.

you sit down on the couch, slouching lazily. ymir and historia flop down next to you on both sides, little huffs of air falling from their mouths. ymir’s got her arm resting on the couch cushion near your shoulders and historia’s throwing an arm around your waist and snuggling her cheek into your shoulder.

historia opens her mouth, here it comes, “what’s wrong?”

you sigh and throw your head back against ymir’s arm, who just hits her knee against your own.

“i...,” you sigh again, “i can’t tell you.”

ymir rolls her eyes as she lets out a huge huff through her nose. she’s irritated.

“why not? why can’t you tell us? we just wanna help,” her eyebrows furrow when she starts to speak and the hand that isn’t on the couch is motioning to herself and historia.

you start crying again, “you can’t help me with this. and i just can’t tell you.”

historia peeks up at you and her eyebrows are bunched up in concern and confusion.

“why can’t you tell us? please just give us an actual reason, and we’ll back off. all we want to do is help you, so just give us a way that we can. we love you so much, we don’t want to see you upset any longer,” historia’s starting to tear up too, bottom lip sticking out as evidence.

“you guys don’t love me in the same way that i love you,” you sob without thinking, and you reach up to cover your face with your hand. ymir traps it with her own, interlocking her fingers with your’s.

“did... could you repeat that,” historia hiccups, taking ahold of your other hand.

“i love you guys. but not in the same way you love me. i want to kiss you, hold you, and do all that sappy stuff couples do with you guys, but you don’t see me like that,” you look down towards your lap while historia and ymir share a look.

ymir’s lanky hands are grabbing ahold of your cheek’s, thumbs running across your cheekbones then your brow bones. she’s staring at you, a bashful blush on her freckled cheeks.

before you ask what she’s doing, she’s giving you one of the softest kisses you’ve ever had in your entire life. you’re closing your eyes and scrunching up your eyebrows, you don’t want this moment to end.

the two of you stop the kiss when you feel historia climb into your lap, sitting on your thighs. you face towards her, slightly dazed from the amazing kiss you’ve just had with ymir. you briefly wonder if this is what it feels like for historia each time.

historia kisses you too. it’s gentle and a little more persistent as if she were trying to show you that she loves you back. her fingers are tangled with your own, using it to her advantage and gently holding them to the couch cushion.

she pulls away after another second, a light pink spreading across her tear stained face. you’re still dazed, is this real? once you go over everything that’s just happened, you jump.

“oh my god, why’d you two just kiss me?!” you’re freaking out, you’ve just overstepped boundaries, right?!

ymir kisses your cheek and says it bluntly, “we love you too. we’ve wanted to make the relationship a poly for a while... we thought you’d hate us though.”

your jaw drops and you whip your head towards ymir, “HUH?”

“we love you,” historia giggles, she’s rubbing her cheek against your chest now.

“oh.. okay. are you sure?” you hum, a huge and dorky smile coming up on your face after they both nod.

“you look stupid,” ymir snorts, “now can we watch victorious and snuggle?”

“before we do that, why did you try hooking me up with hitch,” you ask with a slight scowl.

“we thought it might help us get over you, but it didn’t work for a lot of reasons. you and hitch are good as friends, but not romance; at least that’s what you told us. and if anything, it just made us jealous and sad,” historia explains, tracing patterns with her finger into your stomach.

“that makes sense, i’m ready to watch victorious,” you pause, “wait, when are you taking me home?” ymir and historia stare at you blankly.

“you’re not going home.”

#attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #snk #historia x reader #ymir x reader #ymir x historia #ymir fritz #historia reiss

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fluffy-lee · 3 years

Text

Lesson Learned

Part 7 of the series Vacation

This is a TICKLE series

PLATONIC Avengers x reader

Warnings: Drama

Summary: Y/n returns to the cabin after her trip to Asgard. The reaction she receives from the Avengers surprises her, and one Avenger feels much different about the situation than the rest.

Thor opened the cabin door to see everyone, except Peter and Y/n, sitting quietly in the living room. They all jumped to their feet.

“Where’s Y/n?” Bucky asked, anxiously.

“She’s by the lake with Peter. She’ll be here soon.” Thor answered.

“Bucky, are you going to punish her?” Steve asked.

“For what?”

“Oh I don’t know… GOING OFF TO ANOTHER REALM WITHOUT ASKING?” Steve spat.

“She had my permission. I wouldn’t have taken her if it wasn’t completely safe.” Thor added.

“You cannot honestly say that it was completely safe.”

“With me? I can honestly say that. If you think I would put Y/n in any harm-” Thor, angry, got very close to Steve.

Steve didn’t show any sign of yielding.

“Would you two back down? I can handle this. She’s my daughter.” Bucky snapped, rolling his eyes.

“I’m going for a drive. Alone.” Steve sighed, grabbing the keys and leaving through the front door.

…

“Oh man, Peter, I’m afraid I am going to be in so much trouble.” You said, walking next to him down the trail back to the cabin.

It was getting dark and you and Peter had just had a major heart-to-heart. You felt so open and close with each other now, and you couldn’t be happier because of that, but you were afraid you had disappointed the Avengers, especially your dad.

“I don’t think you should be so scared. Thor was with you. I don’t see the harm done.” Peter assured you.

You finally made it to the back door. You gave Peter a nervous look. He gave you an encouraging smile and nodded. You smiled back and opened the door.

As you scanned the room, your eyes met Thor’s, Wanda’s, Vision’s, Pepper's, Tony’s, Natasha’s, Sam’s, and finally Bucky’s, but not Steve’s, which worried you immediately. You sighed and looked at the ground and then back up into Bucky’s eyes.

“I am so sorry.” You said sincerely.

Bucky walked toward you, and placed his hands on either side of your arms.

“I’m so glad you’re back safe. You look like a princess. You are so beautiful. You always are, but wow! Did you get this dress on Asgard?” Bucky asked.

“Yes.” You whispered, surprised by his reaction. “You have every right to be mad at me right now, Dad.”

“I know.” Bucky answered. “But, I’m not. I’m kind of excited for you. You got to do something really amazing, and you are so brave.”

“I’m not brave.” You grumbled, pushing his hand off your shoulder and going to sit on the couch. “The whole reason I left was because I was too afraid to face my emotions head-on. I didn’t use my head.”

“I know.” Bucky said. “But the point is, you came back! The same day, too!”

You looked up at him in disbelief. How could he not be mad?

“Thor told us everything, Y/n. I’m sorry that I couldn’t be of better help.” Tony apologized, sitting next to you.

You leaned on Tony, sadness still on your face.

“You helped.”

“It’s okay, Y/n. You aren’t in trouble.” Bucky affirmed.

“Thank you. To be quite honest, even if I was in trouble, I wouldn’t regret going. I’m really happy I went, because it helped me, and it was an incredible experience, but I do regret not telling anyone or asking.”

“Then that’s all that matters.” Bucky said, sitting on the other side of you.

Everyone nodded in agreement with Bucky.

You jumped into his arms and hugged him, and he hugged you back tight.

“Now please, tell us everything!” Wanda begged.

You smiled at her and jumped to your feet in the middle of the living room in front of everyone, ready to tell them everything.

“SO. Thor lifted his hammer and the next thing I know-” You began excitedly, going into every detail, gushing over the experience.

Everyone smiled, eagerly listening, as you stood in your stunning purple dress telling them the story.

Thor leaned against the wall, beaming with pride. He really loved you and he was proud that he helped you and you were yourself again.

Peter smiled too. He sure was glad you two were on even better terms now than you had ever been. He watched you, his best friend, describe the golden city. You saw him flash a smile at you.

…

You came down the stairs in your pajamas and once again, BAM! You knocked into Peter. He caught you before you fell back.

“How many times are you going to do that, Y/n?!” Peter exclaimed, lifting you up baby style in his arms.

“Oh I don’t know I’m so- AHH AHAHAHA!” You were cut-off by your own laughter, when Peter had blown a big raspberry on the front of your neck.

When he stopped, you caught your breath, definitely taken by surprise.

“Hehehe! I LOVE this new secret spot I’ve found.” Peter said evilly.

You blushed.

“Can we keep that a secret? Please?” You asked.

“I don’t know… You worried me quite a bit today…” Peter trailed off teasingly.

“Please, Peter?” You begged.

“Fiiine.” He sighed, putting you down.

“Thank you!” You said, lifting your chin to him with a smile. He mocked your expression.

You walked back into the living room and you found yourself suddenly being tackled to the carpet.

“WOAH! WHAT?!” You exclaimed, surprised. You looked up to see Bucky hovering over you.

“Oh yeah, remember when I said not to cross me again?” Bucky asked through gritted teeth.

You knew he was playing, but you were scared.

“Aww man.” You whined, eyes squeezed shut and shaking your head.

“You think I was gonna let you off that easy, hmm?” Bucky teased more.

You bit your lip with a smile. “Kinda!”

“You’re so cute. You get that from me.” Bucky boasted, wiggling his fingers in your ribs.

Giggles began to bubble through your lips as soon as his fingertips made contact with your sensitive rib cage.

Bucky pressed his nose to yours, squinting a smile as he tickled your ribs.

He loved the sound of your laughter. It sounded just like his little sister, Rebecca’s. He missed her dearly, and hadn’t seen her since he left to fight in the war. The first time he saw you, he immediately saw his sister in your face and physique. He thought you looked like him too. You had his eyebrows, smile, and according to Steve, his exact facial expression. Bucky guessed everything else was from your mother, but he didn’t remember what she looked like. The main thing though, he couldn’t believe you were his.

You blushed and soon found yourself laughing harder as he snuck his hands under your arms, digging in. You arched your back in laughter and began to scoot back out from under him in an attempt to escape the unbearable tickling. You were successful for just a moment before Bucky gripped your ankle.

“Where do ya think you’re goin’?” He growled, pulling you back to him.

“I CAHAHAHAN’T TAHAHAKE IHIHIHIT!” You shouted, before falling back into your uncontrollable laughter as Bucky wiggled his fingers all over your belly.

“Can’t take what?” He asked teasingly.

“Dahahaddyy! Thihihis!” You cried.

“What’s this?” He teased more.

“You knohohow!” You squealed as you felt Bucky’s large hands wrap around your sides, squeezing and wiggling his fingers into the skin.

“Ooooh you mean me tickling you? You love it when I tickle you! You should be thanking me!”

Your face turned cherry red and your laughter fell silent as his fingers surprised you by dancing around your neck. You always found your neck being tickled so unbearable. You pushed at his hands to get them away so you could breathe. Bucky got the signal and had some mercy on you.

“Ahahaha. Would you rather me ground you?” He asked, holding your hands to his chest.

You gave him your famous puppy-dog eyes, and shook your head “no.” Bucky’s face fell a little at that.

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m just kidding.” He reassured you. He noted how scared you were to get in trouble with him.

You relaxed a bit, catching your breath. You watched as his lips turned to a sly smirk.

“This is waaaay worse!” He chuckled, lifting your shirt a little to reveal your tummy, and pinning your hands to your sides.

“OH NONONONO!” You screamed, unable to help the anxious smile on your face. You really did love when he tickled you.

“This is what you get!” Bucky sang with a smile, before blowing raspberry after raspberry right above your belly button.

“AHAHAHAAAAHA!” You scream-laughed.

Bucky looked up at you and raised an eyebrow at you, making butterflies rush to your stomach. You wracked your brain, trying to figure out what he was going to do now.

You were caught by surprise when you found yourself curling in to your right as Bucky blew an extremely tickly raspberry on your right side. You felt Bucky smile when he heard your classic belly laugh. He then began to blow more raspberries on your side.

…

Steve walked through the front door of the cabin. He immediately heard your laughter and was well aware of what was happening. He just couldn’t help but grin at the sound of fart noises and his favorite laugh of yours. He could picture exactly what your face looked like, especially that cute smile. But he still wasn’t happy with you for going to Asgard. He found it reckless. He didn’t ever want you to go through such travel without him there to protect you. He knew Thor was perfectly capable, and he trusted him, but he still didn’t feel comfortable with it.

He walked through the cabin, past you and Bucky on the living room floor laughing, with the TV on in the background, past Wanda and Vision making dinner, out to the back deck where the rest were and joined them.

“I know it won’t do anything for you, but want one? Sam asked, offering Steve a beer.

Steve nodded with a small smile and accepted.

“You still mad?” Sam asked.

“A bit, yeah.” Steve shrugged.

…

You never noticed Steve was home. You were too busy laughing in Bucky’s grip.

Bucky came up from the raspberries and you couldn’t take much more, so you tried to charm your way out of the tickle attack by petting the side of Bucky’s face, but before you could say anything and make Bucky fall for your tactic, he playfully bit your hand and you squealed and laughed.

“Hey Y/n.” Bucky asked, teasing in his voice.

“What?” You grumbled, rolling your eyes with a smile.

“Are your thighs ticklish?”

“OH NO OH NO OH NO!” You freaked out, desperately trying to escape. You didn’t stand a chance against your super soldier dad.

“Hehehe I know they are!” Bucky chuckled, squeezing your super ticklish thighs.

Your laughter turned hiccupy as Bucky ruthlessly squeezed and scribbled your thighs. Gosh it tickled so much, you just had to lay there and take it. You were too tired to fight back at this point.

“Tickle tickle tickle tickle tickle tickle!” Bucky said through his smile.

As much as you loved it, it tickled so bad that you just couldn’t stand it anymore.

“Shahahap!” You wheezed quietly.

“Oh alright!” Bucky chuckled, ceasing his tickles.

You caught your breath and smiled shyly at him. Bucky squished your cheek with a kiss, making you giggle.

…

At dinner, you noticed Steve didn’t look at you or say anything to you. He definitely didn’t sit by you. He was totally avoiding you and it broke your heart. You didn’t know what to say to him. He had never been this mad at you before and you were afraid that he wouldn’t ever treat you the same again. You knew that wasn’t true, but still, he had never been this way to you before, and losing him was one of your biggest fears. You still tried to act normal and not let anyone see you were upset. Peter brought up you going to Asgard.

“Let’s not discuss that anymore for tonight.” You interrupted him, not rudely, Just calmly, cooly, and firmly.

You and Steve made eye-contact for the first time since you got back. You saw how angry he was with you. You felt worse. You got up from the table and went to bed. You cried yourself to sleep.

…

You woke up at midnight. You saw Natasha asleep in her bed. You couldn’t go back to sleep. You just thought about Steve. Finally, you decided to go downstairs to get water, and you hoped you’d run into Steve. You had to try to make this right. You came downstairs and saw the kitchen light on. You slowly crept toward the corner and peaked around to see Steve at the kitchen table drawing. You chickened out, and turned and slowly crept back towards the stairs, until you heard Steve’s voice.

“Come back here, Y/n.” He said firmly.

You slowly came around the corner and stood at the entrance of the kitchen, playing with your hands.

“Cloooser.” Steve ordered with a soft smile. His eyes were soft, too. Forgiving.

You walked to him. He nodded, as a way of telling you to speak.

“You think Dad should’ve punished me?” You asked quietly.

“Well, you ran away, twice in a row.” He stated raising an eyebrow.

“I’m really glad he didn’t, even though I deserve it.”

“I think Bucky knows best. He’s your Dad. He is good to you. Do you think you will ever do something like this again? Be honest.” Steve asked.

“Absolutely not. I couldn’t do that to him ever again. Or you.” You answered.

“See?”

You nodded.

“I, on the other hand, think I taught you better than that. Didn’t I?”

“You did.” You said.

“Then why did you do that?” Steve asked.

“I was scared, but I wanted to handle the situation myself… and I felt reckless.” You admitted, a guilty smirk on your lips.

“Mhm. I knew it.” Steve sighed. He patted your back. “You should go back to bed. It’s late.”

You felt a pain in your chest at that. You turned around and headed back, but stopped in your tracks and turned around before you left the kitchen.

“Steve?”

“Hmm?” He responded.

“You being mad at me… is the worst punishment I could ever receive.”

Steve furrowed his brows at you with sad eyes.

“I shouldn’t have done what I did, but going helped me. I am glad I went. I learned. I never would’ve been brave enough to go if I didn’t have you. You’re the one who has taught me how to bring out my inner strength. You have helped me become an independent person. I know it’s taken a lot of work, too, so I am sorry if I disappointed you. But I must thank you, for not failing me.” You said passionately with tears in your eyes.

Steve leaned back in his chair as if he was in shock. He exhaled sharply.

“Come here, Y/n.” Steve sighed, opening his arms to you.

You ran over and hugged him, comforted to be in his arms. You buried your face in his chest. Your tears stained his white t shirt.

“Are you still mad at me?” You asked, looking up at him.

“No.” He smiled.

You smiled so big. You let out a little “yay” making Steve giggle and gently tickle under your arms, making you scrunch up and giggle.

Steve stopped tickling you and turned serious again.

“Y/n? Why didn’t you come to me with your problems? You and I are buddies. We’ve been through so much together. Don’t you know you can come to me with things like that?”

“Well…” You thought for a moment. “Of course, I know that, but… you can be really protective, and I thought it would be a little… awkward.” You admitted bashfully.

Steve rolled his eyes and smiled.

“Come here.” He said, lifting you to sit on his leg. “You know what I would’ve told you?” There were those eyes again.

You shook your head “no.”

“I would’ve told you to talk to Peter, and take your time to figure things out, and I’d be here to help you if you needed anything.”

“I should’ve gone to you.” You sighed.

Steve smirked, giving you teasing eyes. You blushed.

“I’m glad you had this experience, learned something. I can’t protect you from everything. I am so proud of how strong you are, Y/n.”

You hugged him. “I love you, Steve.”

“I love you too, Y/n.”

…

You walked side by side with Steve up the stairs.

“I bet you’re glad I don’t like Peter that way.” You teased.

“He’s a good kid...” Steve trailed off, nodding with his eyebrows furrowed. Then he raised an eyebrow. “You’re right. I am glad.”

“Over-protective.” You rolled your eyes, teasing him more.

Steve gave you that look. You ran back down the stairs to escape what you felt was about to happen. Steve chased after you.

“Get back here, Y/n/n!” He boomed.

You ran as quick as you could down the hall, but you soon found yourself being scooped up by Captain America. He carried you to the living room and threw you on the couch. You blocked your torso, expecting him to tickle you like he always does.

“You’re so sassy!” Steve scoffed, grabbing your ankle.

“Uh! You can’t just tickle me in the middle of the night!” You exclaimed.

“Uh! Yeah I can!” Steve matched your tone, shrugging.

“Well… dang.”

Steve chuckled and tickled the bottom of your left foot driving you mad as you tried to kick and pull away.

“Ohohoho you’re not going ANYWHERE!” Steve exclaimed.

Your laughter was music to his ears. He held your leg, so you couldn’t kick him and reached down to tickle your tummy with his other hand. He was able to cover most of your tummy with his one hand, which he found very convenient, because he could tell it tickled you like crazy, and boy, did it! You squealed and laughed. The cabin was big enough that no one would be able to hear you down in the living room, so no one could save you from the tickle monster himself, Steve Rogers.

“Ihiihihit’s too muhuhuhch, Steheheve!” You cried through your laughter.

“Awww does that tickle?” Steve teased, letting go of your leg to join his other hand to your tummy, extending his tickling to your ribs and sides. It was just too easy for him to make you laugh so hard, and he adored that.

You felt pathetic trying to fight him off, so you just wiggled around and laughed freely. He knew you loved it anyway.

“You’re just so ticklish, Y/n. I love that about you so much.” He mused, wiggling all ten of his fingers in your ribs and sides.

Your laughter became hoarse and Steve knew you needed to go to bed, so he stopped, and lifted you up in his arms, causing you to flinch.

“I’m just lifting you up to take you to bed! ...What did you think I was going to do?” Steve interrogated you, biting his lip with an evil smile.

“Nothing!” You lied terribly.

“Did you think I was gonna… do… THIS?!”

PFFFBBT!

Steve blew a giant, tickly raspberry on the side of your tummy, his beard tickling it even more.

You knew he loved you as much as you loved him.

#marvel tickle #mcu tickle #marvel tickle fic #mcu tickle fic #steve rogers tickle #fluffy-lee #ticklish!reader #bucky barnes tickle

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deadlymodern · 3 years

Text

Thank you for tagging me, @herpixels! 🌼

I'm not going to tag anyone specific because I literally wanna see everyone's take on this. So, please, if you want to, do it!

I went a bit overboard, sorry 😗If you actually read it all, I will love you forever.

YOUR WRITING PROCESS

Show us a part of your script or explain how you write your scenes. Do you write in screenplay format or novel format? Etc, etc.

I love writing in novel format but, for sims storytelling, I feel the need to write a screenplay.

I start by writing all the dialogue along with the action cues and setting descriptions. This helps me visualize how much space I will need for the characters, which and how many props will be necessary etc.

From the simple screenplay, I make a shooting script and a checklist.

The shooting script is super helpful because it allows me to break my screenplay down into shots so I go in game already knowing exactly what I want from it.

This will all sound like I think I'm some big shit but honestly... I just get brain farts WAY too often. So having everything kind of ready helps me remember little things like ADDING THE DAMN POSES INTO THE S4S for examples lmao.

SCENE BUILDING

Show us you in the middle of scene building through pictures, gifs, or a video. Explain what is the best thing about scene building and what is the worst!

Scene/world building is 100% my favourite part of the whole process!

I use a lot of references from the real world. The small coastal village of Brindleton is based on many places in England, mostly villages/towns in Cornwall and Devon.

I enjoy looking for inspiration pictures on Pinterest and going on Google Earth tours, really LMAO.

Of course, there is only so much I can do with Sims to make it look realistic, but if you squint your eyes and shift your head, maybe? fjhgdfhjkg

I do the same for my residential lots and interiors. But interiors are a bit more fun for me because, besides not needing to worry about background extras, I can personalize the environment to my characters.

CC/POSE MAKING

Do you make your own cc/poses for your scene? If so, what is your process like to create? Do you just go off the top of your head? Do you use reference photos?

Nowadays, I make 98% of my poses. The remaining 2% is just me making some adjustments on pre-existing ones. I can't help it. I absolutely love seeing my visions come to life like this.

I also enjoy making poses because I like giving my characters some distinguished body language.

For example, Beth is the only character who slightly puckers her lips to the left. Usually, when she's thinking or when she's upset. It's basically the main part of her face - other than her eyebrows - that will give her true feelings away.

And Mary, on the other hand, is way less emotionally repressed. Any minor inconvenience will make her upper lips twitch upwards. She also pouts a lot more and has more eyebrow movements.

Yes, I am a loser for paying attention to these things shhhhhhh.

Usually, I don't need anything other than an accessory or two. But lately, I've been LOVING to make recolours and convert objects into pose accessories. Whenever I have my script ready, I take note of what I will need for the scene in my checklist.

You probably don't even notice or care as much as I do, but still! They add much to the narrative imo and I feel like I'm giving depth to the characters by tailoring their accessories and the world around them. It's really fun for me!

GETTING IN THE ZONE

What do you do to get in the zone to work on a scene? Examples include: show us your playlist you use when working on a scene, what’s your go-to scene snack/drink, etc.

I have playlists on my Spotify for the main characters as well as one for the story. Beth and Mary's individual playlists are the ones I listen to the most and they are called Countryside Teacup and European Train Ride respectively because these are the vibes I get from the songs in there dslkfjsklfsd.

I also LOVE listening to instrumental playlists on youtube like this Cottagecore and this Royaltycore ✨massive points to you if you can find my comment on the royalty core video 🌚

I don't really snack while working on my story posts but I drink mate tea like CRAZY or, sometimes, I'll just have a beer to get my creative juices flowing ehe.

SCREENSHOTS FOLDER

Give us a look into your screenshot folder to show us just how much goes into ONE scene for your story. (Scrapped pictures encouraged!!!)

I never take too many screenshots with different angles because of my pre-planning!

However, I do have, like, 10 to 15 repeated shots because I take some with DOF, some without, some with shadows, some without etc. And I'm always terrified of the screenshot not working, so I press the my hot keys like 5x jddjlkgd.

Here are some scrapped pictures from previous story posts:

CAPTIONS

Are you a caption on the picture kind of storyteller or captions in text box type of storyteller? Why? Do you do both?

I love doing the graphic novel format, with "speech bubbles" sort of. I personally find it immersive. But I also love and crave for the novel format, so I'll write a little "after scene" sometimes in the text box for extra depth ☺️

EDITING

Explain and show us your process editing a scene through a video, gif, or picture. A Before and after will suffice if you aren’t in the middle of editing a scene as you answer this.

Since I've done a few posts telling a bit about my editing - and, truthfully, not much goes into it - here is a before and after!

THROWBACK

Show us an ANCIENT story scene you done in the past and explain how you would do the scene differently today!

Okay, ANYTHING from my early simblr days is cringe worthy. The dialogue isn't good, the lighting is extremely yellow - due to my crappy laptop -, the outfits and the settings are all over the place, I--

I chose this one image because it was one of the first times I was doing a story post instead of just a gameplay update. I don't even have much else to add, just look at it jkljdfklgjdf.

But I'm going to have plenty of scenes set in the past where I will get the chance to remake the school and dress my teen girls properly and I'm so excited. Like, making slate pose accessory excited fjdigjfido oh, boy.

#long text tw #story process tag #herpixels #game; tag #alcohol mention tw

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spencerspecifics · 3 years

Text

Okay yes hi hello this is me gracing y’all with my writing Bc I’ve had this idea forever!! This is going to be multiple chapters, here is chapter two. Enjoy :)

Technical Analyst (ch.1)

Short description: Spencer works as a technical analyst alongside Garcia and Kevin, though he hasn’t ever really worked directly with the BAU team, he works more in filing and researching. But when Garcia goes on vacation leave, and Kevin is busy with his own work, Spencer steps up to help- and that’s when he meets Derek Morgan.

———————————————————————

Spencer hated technology. He hated computers, tablets, cell phones, he hated it all. He hated everything and anything that isn’t on printed onto paper. So how the fuck did he end up as a technical analyst- whose entire job was based around proficient use of technology? In very short, budget cuts.

He originally worked in domestic terrorism, though he never fit in well there. He was a good worker, fast and able to do a lot. But his coworkers never let him feel included. He would hear them make plans without him, ignore him in conversations, only reaching out to him for his great memory to help solve a case. It was dehumanizing. He was just a brain for them, nothing more.

Then, the budget cuts came. And he got removed from the team, as he had the least amount of hours in the field- which wasn’t his fault. The rest of his team always forced him into the research position, so while they were off chasing the bad guys, he was stuck researching with a computer he doesn’t trust.

So yeah, he wasn’t an asset to them. But the bureau knew a mind like his in general was an asset, a fountain they’d like to keep a tap on. So they made work for him. It was mostly menial. He would assist with intense cases when necessary, but even then it was just research. No one knew what he would be like in the field, because they never gave him the chance.

Spencer tried not to think about how unfair this was, how stupid and purely tedious it was. He would rather be working as a T.A. at this point- which wouldn’t even be that bad. At least he gets heard and seen then.

Spencer’s normal day consists of going from his apartment to the bureau building, to directly into his cramped little office that was about the size of a jumbo walk in closet. A nice size to store clothes, but not so nice when you have to have a person, a desk, a chair, three computer monitors, two filing cabinents, a trash can, a fax machine, and a printer all crammed in there.

Yeah, his workplace was entirely too small. Thankfully it didn’t impact his ability to work, though, most the time Spencer finished his work quickly; and would end up reading. Spencer didn’t venture out from his office that much at all, (he always brought his own coffee so he didn’t have to worry about bugging the field agents.) the exception to leaving his office was to go across the hall to Penelope Garcia, his only sort of friend that he had at work. She was always so bubbly, it was a breath of relief for him to go see her- she reminded him of all the positive things, he definitely couldn’t do the job without her.

Not to mention, she had to train him from starting point zero. Spencer hated technology, after all. So he never made an effort to learn coding, hacking, how to re-route and track things. He knew nothing like that, hell, he struggles with his cellphone turning on sometimes.

Thankfully, she was able to get some sense into him, and he was pretty good at what he could do. Though he was still working out python coding, he was enjoying the learning process of using technology.

That being said- he still despises technology, and he hopes that once he leaves the job, he can throw away his very unnecessary but work mandated laptop.

Spencer made his way into the bureau building, messenger bag slung over his shoulder awkwardly as a thermos of coffee was held tightly in his right hand, while the left one reached for the door handle to enter. He got in no problem, security didn’t stop him anymore, thankfully. Though in the beginning, they did check him constantly, verifying that he belonged there. After all, he looked young, and he definitely didn’t belong in the bureau building. But then again, Garcia didn’t look like she belonged there either.

Security just made presumptions about people, he shrugged that thought off as he made his way to the elevator. Thankfully no one else was in there, he pressed the button for floor six, and the elevator doors shut.

The elevator whirred to life, taking him up to the sixth floor slowly. Thankfully today was a slow day, there wasn’t really any important case he had to work on. (Not like he ever really got given cases to work on, anyways.) So Spencer was hoping he would be able to finish his work quickly, as he had some books he brought with him that he wanted to read and re-read before the day was finished.

The elevator dinged, a signal it had reached its necessary location, before the doors finally slid back. He stepped out, taking his usual left down the hallway immediately. Forward through the glass doors was the bullpen with the agents who worked in the BAU. And god, what he wouldn’t give to be a field agent, working as a profiler. That’s why he wanted to join the bureau, and yet he was so close- his office only down the hall. But he was simultaneously so far, not being trusted by all the bureaucratic bosses, who didn’t know if he would be a good agent to warrant being put out into the field.

He hated it, but he tried not to think about it as he reached his office, Garcia’s door was shut, she was on vacation, or so he had heard. Spencer pulled on his office door, entering with ease as he moved into the cramped workspace.

Spencer sat his messenger bag down onto his desk, sitting himself down in his office chair and taking a minute to breathe in and out before continuing. Spencer hated this job. It was mind numbingly boring, he was so close to quitting. He knew the bureau would fight tooth and nail to keep him, however, but if that was the case, why not give him a better job- he didn’t want a nicer office, he wanted to help people.

He sighed, today was just one of those days where he was extra mad about not being treated right, he tried to ignore this thought process as he got ready to work; setting his coffee down by his computer mouse to his right, setting his messenger bag onto the floor next to him, pulling off the scarf that was wrapped loosely around his neck and hanging it over the back of his chair. Now he was ready for the day.

Penelope didn’t mean to forget to tell the team that she was going to be gone- she assumed they knew. At least Hotch did, all the rest of them knew was that she was going to take a week off to relax, they just didn’t know when (she had too many vacation days saved up, so she had to use them or lose them. She chose the former.) It was just a total brain fart moment on her part, so while she decided to hit up her favorite stores, spas, and websites; the team had no idea, they assumed she was holed up in her office, hacking away at whatever she normally does.

This would only show itself when Derek needed her, calling her office number and it going to voicemail “Hi, this is Penelope Garcia with the FBI and I’m too awesome to come to the phone right now, if it’s an urgent matter please call Aaron Hotchner-“ yeah, Derek hung up his phone by then, deciding to call her personal cell.

“Hi, hot chocolate!” She answered cheerfully, the sounds of people talking and laughing could be heard in the background, which Derek took note of. “Babygirl- your work phone sent me to voicemail, where are you?” Garcia was quiet for a second, before practically blowing Morgan’s eardrums out; “Oh- damnit! I knew I was forgetting something!” “Care to fill me in?” He asked her curiously, “Yes-“ Garcia sighed before continuing on, “Sorry. I’m taking those vacation days Hotch told me I had to use or else I’d lose.”

“So you’re not at the office.” He stated, “That I am not, I’m sorry I forgot to tell you! But my pal Spencer Reid should be covering for me.” “Spencer Reid?” Derek asked, unfamiliar with that person, “Why not kevin?” “Ugh, I don’t know- he’s doing that thing where he’s actually busy with other work for once. But Spencer is good, I taught him everything he knows- and I’m pretty sure he’s got three PhDs, so yeah, you replaced one genius with another- so don’t worry!” “Okay, well...” Derek took a second, “You sure I can ask Spencer about everything I’d ask you?” He meant work related, within being able to hack and get everything that Garcia would be able to get. Because Morgan knew that her talents were very special, and having someone else replicate them seemed near impossible, so he was a bit hesitant to trust someone new.

“Oh yeah- he’ll find everything easy peasy lemon squeezy. Don’t worry yourself, sugar.” “Okay, thank you mama. Have a good week of rest.” “I will! I have an appointment for a spa, and oh my god Derek- they do a seaweed wrap thing, isn’t that crazy?” “So you’re gonna get rolled up like sushi?” “No! Ew! Don’t compare me to raw fish!”

The phone call continued for a bit after that, as Derek wasn’t in an urgent matter. It was just a filing day at the office, before he hung up he asked where Spencer was, though; “Oh, he’s in the office next to mine, across the hall!” Garcia told him happily. Derek had thought that was a storage closet, but he didn’t tell her- instead thanking her and hanging up.

Now to pay this mystery computer whiz a visit.

Spencer was in the middle of re-routing a bunch of information that Garcia needed to send to her boss, Aaron Hotchner. Spencer didn’t share the same boss, since he was technically working in a more basic division of the bureau, he instead answered to Strauss- which was a royal pain in the ass, but he always turned his work in on time, came in when needed, he had never had to face her wrath yet, thankfully.

Spencer typed away, trying to get all the data to get to Hotchner as quickly as possible so he didn’t have to wait, though it wasn’t crucial the work did get completed right now. Spencer just liked to get things done.

A knock sounded Spencer out of his methodical typing, it wasn’t Garcia, obviously. And he knew Kevin was in a meeting right now with some IT people over his keyboard acting funky (Kevin could fix it by himself, but office administration forced him into talking to IT.)

“Yes?” Spencer asked curiously, turning around in his office chair, because he had no clue who it was that could be interrupting his work. The door pushed open, revealing a tall, classically handsome, muscular man carrying some files in his hands. Fuck, that would be Spencer’s luck. An attractive guy swooping in and making his IQ of one hundred and eighty seven go down to sixty in two second flat

“Hi- you Spencer?” The man asked, stepping forward into the cramped office. Spencer stood up instinctively, “Yes, I am. How can I help you?” The man handed the files over awkwardly, “I’m sorry, I usually ask Penelope Garcia for this but she’s on vacation and she referred me to you- I just need these put through VICAP, I’m not too familiar with the system as a whole, ‘cause Garcia usually handles it.”

Spencer nodded, taking the files and looking through them briefly, there were nine of them. “I’m sorry, I know that’s a lot of work to do... I’m sure I can figure it out myself-“ Derek started, doing his best to apologize. Little did he know Spencer could get this done within an hour or so.

“Oh no- not a problem at all, this should only take me about an hour, two at most, but that’s a generous estimate.” Derek raised his eyebrows, “An hour or two? Garcia usually finishes up this many files within three or four. How are you able to get this done faster than her?”

“I have an eidetic memory, which helps me recall anything that I read. I can read these files once and put all the information into VICAP knowing it’s accuracy is one hundred percent without having to double check, that cuts down my speed by half per case file.”

Derek looked confused and shocked. Yeah, Spencer could understand why. “Sorry, um. That’s a weird explanation, but it shouldn’t take me as long. I’m assuming you’re out in the bullpen?” Spencer asked him, putting the files down atop his keyboard.

“Yeah, I’m Derek Morgan with the BAU.” Derek finally introduced himself, reaching his hand out. Shit, this was Derek Morgan? Garcia has mentioned him a few times to Spencer, saying he’d love him “oh he’s so handsome, but so sweet and loving, like the hottest man on earth- I’d marry him in a heartbeat, but we don’t roll like that, Y’know?” That’s how she described him once, and of course Spencer remembered that word for word. Spencer felt like it was just his luck, that his only work colleague was best friends with a man so attractive that his mind isn’t working fully.

Not to mention he was in the BAU, Spencer guessed he was, since Garcia was their technical analyst. But still, it would be just his luck to know this insanely attractive man was part of the team he wanted to belong to so bad. Spencer wasn’t sure how to respond as he kept his composure. After all, yeah, Derek was attractive. But they probably wouldn’t speak again after this exchange. It wasn’t worth Spencer thinking about him, or how Garcia described him.

“I’m sorry, I don’t shake. But it’s nice to meet you, I’ll find you once I’m done. If you need anymore help, feel free to let me know.” Spencer told him, looking back at the files on his desk as a distraction away from this hot guy that was just standing so calmly in his office, as if Spencer ever had any visitors into the cramped space besides Garcia and Kevin.

By the time spencer looked back up, Derek’s arm was back down by his side. “Okay, thank you.”

Derek was surprised by their exchange, to say the least. How did he not know about this genius before? How was he not more well known, a memory thing, three PhD’s- that would be a useful asset? How come he was hidden away in a closet sized office? He had to know more. Even if it was nosy and stupid.

Normally, he’d call Garcia and ask her if it was about an employee. But in this case, he couldn’t. And he couldn’t go to Spencer, that would be weird.

So, he did the next best thing. He asked Hotch.

He knocked slowly on Hotchner’s door, hoping he wasn’t going to tell him to mind his business and not ask about employee facts when they definitely were irrelevant.

Derek was smart though, he figured out a foolproof way to play this. So when Hotch said, “Yes?” He came in, starting his plan into motion.

“Hotch, where’s Garcia?” He asked him, as if Derek hadn’t immediately checked up on his babygirl when he couldn’t find her. “Oh,” Hotch started, setting a file down that he had been looking over, “She took some vacation time.”

“So, who am I supposed to go to for computer help?” Derek asked, “Well,” Hotchner started, matter of factly, while he reached for a thin, unopened file on his desk. “We have a new guy helping us. Kevin’s busy with helping the child abduction unit reset their computers, as well as he’s in an IT meeting right now, so we have..” Hotch stopped, looking down to read the name off the file; “Doctor Spencer Reid. I’m sure he’ll be just as good.”

“Hotch. No ones as good as Garcia.” Derek pointed out, Hotch shrugged. “Maybe not. But this guy has a glowing personal history- and Garcia told me she taught him everything he knows.”

“What’s his personal history?” Derek asked curiously, stepping a bit closer but still trying to play nonchalance. “You know I’m not able to disclose that. You can go ask him for yourself.” Derek sighed. Of course Hotch wasn’t gonna tell him shit. He should’ve expected this. But sue him, call him hopeful. He was hoping he could’ve gotten some information on this mysterious doctor.

Derek made his defeated way back to his desk in the bullpen. And Emily, whose desk was directly across from his, immediately noticed his slight annoyance at Hotch. So she asked in a hushed voice as soon as he sat down;

“Did you get yelled at by Hotch?” Because in her mind, that was the most logical explanation that made the most sense. Derek just shook his head as a response, “No,” he clarified, “I was asking about our Garcia fill-in, and Hotch wouldn’t tell me anything.”

“Garcia fill-in? She’s gone?” Emily asked confusedly looking back to the hallway that led to Penelope’s office, as if she’d magically appear. “Yeah, but just for the week.” Derek explained, “She’s using those vacation days she had saved up. And Kevin isn’t our standby, ‘cause he’s busy. Instead it’s some new guy.”

“Who?” Prentiss asked, this time she was curious. And as if on cue, Dr. Spencer Reid came through the glass doors, and into the bullpen, carrying Morgan’s stack of files.

“Him.” Morgan pointed back simply as a response as he waved Spencer over.

To say Spencer felt out of his element by being in the BAU bullpen was an understatement, he felt like a fish out of water. Like he was suffocating and everything around him was too much.

He purposely avoided the bullpen, first reason being because he didn’t have any work with the BAU. But the second reason was he knew if he stepped in, he’d be more upset that he couldn’t be on the team. And the last thing he wanted to do was make his job worse for himself.

But, this experience was an outlier. And though Spencer can remember almost anything and everything, he planned on doing his best to purposely forget all of this. Every last detail.

He wasn’t going to let himself remember how there were field agents with real life guns holstered at their sides, how they were all sitting casually, looking over cases and drinking coffee, how they had the title of SSA (he only had SA, which he still was bitter about.), and then how at a moments notice they could fly away in a jet. How astonishing their work is, how jealous he is.

But Spencer entered through the glass doors nonetheless, looking around quickly before seeing Derek wave him over. Derek was sat at his desk, talking to a woman whose head was turned away from Spencer, all he could see was that she was his desk mate, and that she had black hair.

Spencer made his way over at a brisk pace, he just needed to get in and out. If he stayed for too long, he’d let himself remember to much.

“Hey, I- I got these into VICAP no problem,“ Spencer started as he handed Derek the case files, “But I noticed some errors on the date stamping on when you found the unsub so I corrected it myself, I hope you don’t mind.”

Derek shook his head casually, “Not a problem at all, I have a habit of messing that up. Thanks doc.” Fuck, ‘doc’? Spencer hadn’t been called ‘doctor’ in months, let alone ‘doc’. This was turning into a tailspin moment for him as he smiled awkwardly, feeling a blush rising to his face, he wasn’t sure what else to do. But he wanted to get out of there.

Thankfully, the woman with black hair introduced herself, as once he had rounded the corner to see Derek, he also saw her face. She was pretty, and had bangs. “Hi, I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Emily Prentiss.” She reached her hand over to shake Reid’s expectantly, “Oh I-“ Reid started, hands down at his sides, he wasn’t going to move them.

“He doesn’t shake, Prentiss.” Derek explained casually, “Oh,” Emily said, dropping her hand down, “Sorry! It’s still good to meet you, though. So I hear you’re covering for Garcia?” She asked Spencer, who nodded as he pushed a piece of hair back behind his ear.

“Yeah she’s taking vacation time, and Kevin is currently busy with helping the child abduction unit. So I’ll be you technical analyst for the next week or so.”

“I’m sorry, but how long have you been with the bureau? You look really young. I don’t mean to be rude I’m just-“ “You’re really asking him the rudest possible question, though, huh?” Derek joked to her, and she just smacked him on the arm lightly before turning her attention back to Spencer.

“No you’re fine to ask I- um, I’ve been with the bureau a year and a half, but originally I was on the domestic terrorism field unit.” He explained shortly, he didn’t wanna go into how he got on the bureau to begin with, or how he left the domestic terrorism unit. All he wanted to do was have this conversation end, or else it would just be that much harder to forget.

“Domestic terrorism? So how do you end up doing technical analyst work?” Derek butted in curiously, up until now it has been Prentiss asking all the questions.

Spencer stayed quiet for a moment, before finally responding, “If you need anything else, my office is next to Garcia’s. It’s been nice meeting you, Emily.” All he gave to Derek was a curt nod before walking out at the brisk pace he had entered with.

“Wow, well you fucked that up.” Prentiss spoke to Derek once she saw Spencer exiting through the glass doors, and turning down the hallway.

He sighed and rolled his eyes at her, “I’m just curious about him, can you blame me?” Emily just chuckled softly in return, shaking her head as she turned her chair around to face him more head on.

“Are you curious about him because he’s cute, or because he’s replacing Garcia for the week?” Derek blinked at her in surprise; “I never said he was cute.” He protested, more confused than anything else.

“You didn’t say it, but your body language did. You think he’s cute. You called him ‘doc’ and he almost blushed, and I have a feeling you’re gonna try and call him ‘doc’ again to see that same result- and you watched him the entire time, even if I was talking.”

“You think random bureau agents are cute all the time, what’s it matter?” Derek rebutted, trying to deflect and ignore, because Prentiss wasn’t making sense. Derek wasn’t attracted to Spencer, he didn’t think he was cute. Spencer’s level of attractiveness had nothing to do with his curiosity.

Derek did have a right to be curious for other reasons, anyways. This guy was replacing Garcia for a bit. It made sense Derek would wanna know more about the guy, even if he was or wasn’t attractive.

“Yeah, I find agents cute. But I don’t go asking Hotch about them.” Prentiss said with a smirk, Derek just shot her a glare. “I asked Hotch because he’s replacing Garcia. And I’ve not heard of the guy before.”

“Whatever you say, man.” Was all Emily replied with as she turned back to her work, Derek just rolled his eyes at her again before turning to his own computer.

Okay, so he knew Spencer was in domestic terrorism. It couldn’t hurt to just search it up, right? It wasn’t anything classified, he’d be able to see it, Derek hoped. He wasn’t meaning to be nosy, but he was just so curious and confused. He just had to know more.

———————————————————————

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elliethesuperfruitlover · 3 years

Note

Hello, could you do a Misfits Nathan X Fem reader one shot where Nathan and reader open their Christmas presents, and Reader surprises Nathan with a positive pregnancy test, and he is shocked, but happy, and then they go to Nathans mum's house for Christmas dinner and announce the news. His Mum then talks about how Cute Nathan was as a baby, and embarrasses him, and reader laughs and smiles at hearing stories of baby Nathan. (sorry this request is long) Merry Christmas and a happy new year.

Baby’s First Christmas

A/N: This is a request based prompt, one of the Christmas ones. I’m not sure if the other will get out by Christmas, but I’ll try my best. A lovely and fluffy Nathan x reader one. This is a double request, so I answered the request to this one, but they contain the same material. Makes it much easier for me lol.

Warnings: none really, very fluffy, but breastfeeding, food, small mention of coitus

Cheeky Tag List: @misskittysmagicportal, @robertsheehanownsmyass, @joz-stankovich, @badsext, @super-unpredictable98, @the-freckled-luba, @wasabimia, @iamsexytrash, @midnightseance, @the-novel-on-the-left

“Good morning love.” Nathan said, holding Lily above you, where she stared at you, a bit deftly, but you know it was because she didn’t really know what to expect. Either way, you smiled and sat up, letting her into your arms.

“Good morning to you too. How’s she been today?” you ask, cheek brushing against Lily’s head, curls tickling you.

“Very good. When I walked into her nursery, she was already awake and just gawking at me, y’know like babies do. She’s been very sweet though.” Nathan said, averting his eyes as you lowered your shirt, Lily latching herself immediately.

Even though it’d been months since Lily’s birth, Nathan still looked away when you breastfed. It’s a natural thing, but his response was always “Yeah, but I feel like I’m being disrespectful if I think about sucking on ‘em too.” You chuckle as you think about it, and suddenly remember that Christmas was upon the two of you. You moved from out of bed, and slowly walked to the living room, where Nathan lay by the tree, striking a pose. Multiple gifts were piled under the large pine tree, and Lily broke away from her feeding to look at the tree, eyes full of wonder.

“Aw, bless. Look at her little hands!” Nathan said, walking up to you two, kissing the top of Lily head once more, making her let out a very cute giggle.

Her hands were reaching out to try to touch the lights, but you two knew better. Lily had the tendency to pull at things, like any other baby, and it would end in disaster. He smiled at his daughter, and you sat on the floor as Nathan brought you presents, Lily happily tearing at some of the wrapping paper. Both of your parents, (even Nathan’s dad) were very supportive of the pregnancy, as shown through seeing them in-person, as well as the gifts you two received. Lily received a new pacifier, as well as a couple pairs of clothes from each side of the family, and she squealed upon seeing the tassels lined upon one of the shirts. Whenever either of you wore anything with string on an outfit, Lily could and would spend HOURS picking at the string and giggling at it. You were amazed at how much time she could spend playing with it. Neither of you could leave your hair down, or else it would be at the hands of Lily Young, who would pull at it, and never let go.

“Okay, time for coffee and breakfast, huh Nathan?” you asked, smiling up at him. There were still presents under the tree, but as per the household rule, if you got hungry, you’d eat, even if it’s time for presents.

Nathan cooked a simple breakfast, eggs and bacon, and the two of you happily ate, and as Lily grabbed at the two of you, you remembered the Christmas of last year, which was much more different than this one’s.

“Merry Christmas babe! I got you a pre-tree present to open right in bed!” you yelled, wakingNathan up from his sleep. He smiled upon seeing you, smiling at him, as the past few weeks you’d been a tad bit ill.

“Ah, Merry Christmas day to ye’ too. What’ve you got for me, huh?” he said, reaching for the gift. His chest peeked out from the top of the sheets, and you couldn’t help but reach your hand out and rub it, him smiling at the gesture.

You’d had a bit of a guess that you’d been pregnant for a couple weeks, as your period was a month late, which hadn’t happened in almost 10 years. You’d also been sick for weeks on end, and it was pure torture for you to experience. Nathan had even noticed, and when he noticed you were having a particularly rough day, he’d make you a light dinner, and rub your back and feet. He’d picked up a small job, and was trying to make ends meet for your minimal apartment. So, when you thought about pregnancy, and how many times Nathan was just too horny for protection, the dots started to connect. So, you got a pregnancy test, as well as an ultrasound, and wham bam, shanglang (and a shalalalala), you’re pregnant with Nathan’s kid. You accepted it, and the two of you had been talking about kids for a while. You decided to tell him in a way he could accept better. Instead of a more serious talk, it was a gift.

“This a tampon or something?” Nathan asks, holding the test in his face, looking at you. You shook your head and laughed, and pointed at the plus sign. Nathan glanced at what you were pointing at, and it took a moment for another emotion to fall upon his face. It was joy, and he went forward to hug you.

“You could've told me you were pregnant love.” Nathan muttered into your neck, and hugged you a bit tighter, satisfying your senses. You smiled at his reaction, and as his lips moved to your stomach, where he began talking to your baby, and a few tears slipped from your face. He moved back up to kiss your lips, and the two of you stayed in bed for a bit of celebration before moving downstairs to look at the rest of your presents.

Your brain took you back to the present, and Nathan had Lily in his arms, and she was reaching towards his chest, and you both laughed. She had a tendency to grab toward people’s chest, it was her favorite place to cuddle, and if you two had to go in public with her, strollers would have to be forgotten. It kept her from fussing, and kept everything calm.

“Alright, we need to get ready to go to me mam’s, alrighty?” Nathan said, after cleaning breakfast up and heading upstairs.

“Fine, you can get Lily cleaned and dressed while I shower, then we can swap after I’m done, alright?” you say, grabbing your clothes from the closet. Nathan nods his head, and you kiss Lily’s forehead before heading to the bathroom, taking your time to get ready.

It’d been a very busy few months with a new baby, and learning to adjust to her in your lives. You and Nathan used to go out for weekly dates and enjoy each other’s company, but you couldn’t even remember the last time you two went out together. It was ages ago. Even if it was to your family, you were grateful to get out of the house and see other people. A few minutes later, you waltzed out of the bathroom, fresh as a rose, and Nathan eyed you up and down, smirking at your form.

“You are very beautiful and I have the very strong desire to bang you, but I promise. When Lily’s being tended to by family, that ass is mine.” Nathan whispers, kissing your neck before handing Lily over to you, who was drifting off to sleep.

Your job was going to be very easy until you two had to drive to Nathan’s mum’s house, which might cause unwanted chaos with Lily. If she woke up in a car, she could either A. fall back asleep. B. immediately start crying, scaring both you and Nathan, or C. stay calm and be her usual, bubbly self. Either way, you were happy to be out of the house. Once Nathan emerged from the restroom, dapped out in his grey suit, you two gathered your baby bag, keys, and adult snacks (bc Nathan accidentally ate baby snacks and he wasn't happy about it) and walked out of the door with time to spare. The ride was very calm, and as he drove, you sat in the back of the car and your thoughts drifted back to last year’s Christmas.

“Come on baby, can’t be late!” you yelled through the door to Nathan, who was taking his sweet time in the bathroom.

“I gotta perfect my hair, my mum can’t know we’ve been shagging as a reason for the season!” he yelled back, and you heard the water run once more.

You rolled your eyes with affection, and went to the living room, and got a glass of water to help cool yourself down. You were nervous about telling Nathan’s mom, as anyone would be, but you just couldn’t shake the anxiety off. Nathan eventually emerged from the bathroom, and you two rushed down the steps of the apartment, trying not to be too terribly late to the Christmas dinner his mom has prepared for you two. You rarely ever saw her, but goodness, could that woman cook up a storm. You always left her place stuffed and ready to crash into bed due to a food coma.

Upon arrival, you shivered in your seat, and got ready to tell Nathan’s mom the big news as soon as you entered, but every time you felt good about it, your anxiety shut you down. She offered you a glass of wine, but you had to turn her down, and she just blamed it on the fact that you were driving, and Nathan loved himself a pint. When dinner arrived, your stomach turned itself into knots, and all you wanted to do was scream. When she began carving the turkey, your brain farted, and all of a sudden you blurted out.

“Ms. Young, I’m pregnant so….that’s why I didn’t really want any wine, I’m sorry, I’ve just not been feeling up to it lately.” and a small tear fell from your eye.

“Aw, love, don’t feel bad, that’s wonderful news. Never expected Nathan to be one for children, but I’m very happy about this. I’ve got some lovely stories and pictures from when he was a little babby.” she replied, putting your hand over yours.

You giggled and thanked her, Nathan coming from behind to kiss the top of your head, but preparing for the stories about to be told. His mom showed you pictures of Nathan with mall Santa, as well as the Easter bunny. He was cringing at the thought of himself doing anything even remotely cute. She showed you pictures of him chasing after the family dog, and even one of him with an academic achievement award, one for reading.

“I didn’t know you were literate Nathan. Now I know to get you books for your birthday, you twat.” you say, teasing Nathan, much to his dismay.

“Oh, he really likes reading, let me tell you. He would plow through so many books, I thought of renting out the library for him. He would never stop reading this one.” she said, looking over at him, who was nose deep in his old copy of The Hobbit. A faint blush covered his cheeks, and his mom ruffled his curls, and Nathan smirked at her, thanking her.

You returned back to the present, and Nathan looked over to you, kissing your hand. You two smiled, and as you headed to his mom’s house, you knew it was going to be much better.

“Nathan, how are you. And his lovely partner, AND SWEET BABY LILY AWW!” his mother said, fawning over the three of you. Lily cooed at her grandmother, and was handed over to her, happily accepted.

You all stepped into her apartment, and brought in the baby bag, almost forgotten in the car. You helped out in the kitchen with Nathan’s mom as Lily played in the living room, watching her father look at childhood photos. Nathan took his daughter from her playpen, and held her up to the pictures, talking to her quietly. You glanced from the kitchen, and worked the dough for quick pie, Nathan’s mom catching you slacking a bit.

“He’s a keeper, honey. And you are too. You should hear the way he talks about you to me. Nothing but love and admiration in his voice, and even now, talking to Lily. He doesn’t really open up much, not even to me. But the way that he’s talking to Lily right now is really lovely.” she says, looking at you.

“Yeah. He’s been super supportive during everything and I seriously couldn’t be happier. He’s so wonderful. Always talking to Lily and being so gentle with her. You raised an amazing son.” you said, smiling.

When the food was ready, the lot of you piled into the living room, and ate a full meal, plus desserts. Lily was fully asleep by the time you all were wrapping everything up, and Nathan’s mom offered you two the guest room to stay in for the night. Nathan happily accepted it, and you slept peacefully that night, thankful of the support in your life.

Masterlist

#nathan young x reader #misfits #msifits fanfic #xmas fic #nathan young fluff #nathan young imagine

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karliesbuzzcut · 3 years

Text

So I don’t know how you guys feel about the ‘Realistic Kaylor Timeline’ that’s been doing the rounds on this corner of the internet. I’m guessing some of you might feel conflicted, others might strongly disagree with some parts of it - but do not worry. I’m here to tell you how to feel about it: you love it. Because it’s mandatory to love anything that can get such a feral reaction out of TTB.

Today I’m bringing you

Top 7 Moments from TTB vs. Swiftiesleuth 2020

Fair wairning: I’m going to be very biased - I’ve not made my adoration for @swiftiesleuth a secret at all.

1. TTB’s grand entrance. LLLLLET’S GET READY TO TUMBLRRRRR!

Her disjointed sentences already let you know she’s a bit shaken “FAKE NEWS! The author admits they do not have inside knowledge like I do! I have all the inside knowledge, they only have outside knowledge, which ew - it’s muddy outside, and there’s bugs.”

2. Married people don’t ‘bonk’ - they make respectful and dignified love to each other. Preferably from opposite sides of the room.

My favourite was definitely when she said “if you’re a queer woman then you should really think about how you talk”. I vote for unpacking this one.

That ‘if’ - because of course, TTB has to perform a background check on you before she allows you to join The Gays.

That ‘should’. Please, TTB, complete that thought for us. Why is it that, as a queer woman, swiftiesleuth should do something in particular? You are not implying that she has to be especially careful about her words because she’s queer, right? I mean, you wouldn’t 😱 you’re a Social Justice Warrior after all.

TTB doesn’t like to be called “dude” either:

Which is why I suggest we all start calling her ‘Our Dude’. She will be our collective dude. And we can all be her little Dudes! It’ll be delightful, I’m telling ya.

3. In the year of our lord 2020, TTB decides it’s a good idea to pull the “I can’t be racist; my best friend is black” - but make it Jewish.

On this one I want to take a bit of a more serious tone, so I’ll limit myself to only one fart joke. I had no idea there were circumstances in which you couldn’t say you ‘converted’ to Judaism. I genuinely love that this seemingly silly passtime of mine actually teaches me new things. Now, I’m going to take a wild-ass guess and say TTB didn’t know that either... but more on this coming up.

Right now, let’s all rejoice at her choice of saying “I have facts” and right afterwards “Kaylor is likely already married”.

Kaylor, the sole entity, is married.

4. TTB tells herself “You know what? I haven’t been racist enough today”

At this point, TTB has become a cautionary tale about what happens to a person when they get married to an idea. It’s genuinely scary for me to think that my brain could trick me to such an extent that I could no longer process information that contradicts my beliefs. Just imagine it, there’s something about someone else’s religion that doesn’t make sense to you, and you decide to draw your conclusions from there. Okay, cool. Then someone from said religion explains that thing that didn’t make sense. And your reaction isn’t “oh, I maybe I should think about that, this person clearly knows more than me about this particular subject”. No. Your reaction instead is “I am entitled to my beliefs”

ISN’T THAT TERRIFYING!?

But more importantly... Isn’t that fucking racist? Wait... what? You are saying that isn’t racist enough? You think TTB should’ve also said that people don’t get to be offended by a word ‘only because it has been used as a slur in the past’? And then suggest to the person who asked her not to use that word - a person who is directly affected by that kind of bigotry - to get a dictionary? Nooo, come on, that’d be overkill. We are not trying to build a cartoon villain here!

5. Whaler and TTB are disappointed parents.

Truly emps, how dare you have a mind of your own. We raised you better than that!

I loooove that this day and age a fucking reblog means unconditional support to the author of the post... I’d watch that Black Mirror episode.

6. Both swiftiesleuth & TTB leave the chat with a motherfucking BANG.

I thought that I had hit comedy nirvana when Swiftiesleuth asked if her LGBTQ flavour bothered TTB and I thought no way in hell would TTB respond to that. BUT SHE DID. Aren’t you glad to be alive to witness that? “I have no knowledge of your flavour” she says. Well, TTB, I have no knowledge of Swiftiesleuth’s flavour either, but I’m working on fixing that *double winky face*

BUT TTB was like “talking about someone’s flavour isn’t hilarious enough, let’s leave this conversation with my best material”. And reminded us all of the percentage of black people she has working for her. I wonder if she decided to do the maths right after assembling her team or after she realised she could use it as an argument. Either way, super normal behaviour.

Also, also. I’d love to know what she considers a minority “well... Gerald has a pet snake... that should bring my minority percentage up by a couple points”

7. Special guests!

You wouldn’t be able to tell by how late to the party I was, but this was a big event here on Tumblr. Everybody was there... I’m told. Because I already feel like I’ve been working on this post for the past decade, I’ll keep it short and cute.

In one corner we have whaler and swift-79,

Obligatory bulletpoint list about all the things I loved about this post:

It wasn’t enought that TTB questioned swiftiesleuth’s queerness. Whaler said “fuck it - I’m questioning this bitch’s name as well” “Nat?” “you don’t look like a Nat” “but if you insist on identifying yourself as a Nat...” “I’ll put it in air quotes though”

I’m sorry... “If we are judging from pictures”? Isn’t that all that Kaylors do in 2020? No. No. I’m sorry. You guys also have emojis, sorry!

“Even Enty has questions about his sexuality” 😱 What? Enty? A blog dedicated to posting a constant stream of celebrity gossip once said that someone, somewhere, might be gay? No! 😱

I think swiftiesleuth was accused again of working for Scooter? Conspiracy Theorists are so adorably predictable, every time anyone disagrees with them (worse if that person seems to have done some research) somebody has to yell “they’re working for the enemy!”

Anyway, time for our final guest: the lovely @youlooklikebadnews , who I could’ve asked to write this whole post for me because they definitely did a better job than me at summarising the whole thing. But not only that, they were lucky enough to get a response from TTB.

...At this point I’m fairly certain that I’ll get invited to a Secret Session before TTB ever acknowledges my existence.

Doesn’t this read like what the villain says at the end of a shitty movie? Teasing a sequel and everything?

“You have not seen the last of TTB! I’ll be back with more proof and no copyright issues! KARLIE AND TAYLOR WILL RISE! Then you will see! YOU WILL ALL SEE!”

*flourishes cape and disappears into the night*

#ttb i love you #but not as much as i love swiftiesleuth #sorry

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organabanana · 3 years

Text

Leaves of three, let it be [1/?] || harlivy

Chapters: 1/?

Fandom: DCU (Comics)DCUHarley Quinn (Comics)Harley Quinn (Cartoon 2019)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence

Relationships: Pamela Isley/Harleen Quinzel

Characters: Pamela Isley, Harleen Quinzel, Selina Kyle

Additional Tags: Mentions of alcohol, mentions of batman fucking bats, most of this is straight up idiocy tbh, i just finished watching the cartoon so everyone swears like a sailor i'm sorry, rated for (ahem) happenings later on, ivy/harley/catwoman frenemies

Series: Part 1 of the Cliché a Week 2021 series

Summary:

Aided by a terrible hangover and a severe lack of impulse control, Harley accidentally drinks an unknown substance at Ivy's apartment and suddenly remembers why Ivy goes by Poison Ivy in her professional life. Luckily for Harley, she's immune to Ivy's toxins. Unluckily for Harley, she may not be immune to her love pheromones, and turning into a human-plant hybrid is not her idea of a good time.

Telling Ivy so she can give her an antidote may seem like the obvious course of action, but there are very few things Harley hates more than disappointing Ivy with her poor decision-making skills. Besides, like Selina said, if she'd drunk pheromones she'd be in love with Ivy by now, right?

And Harley Quinn is absolutely not in love with her best friend.

Notes:

This was (loosely) inspired by Prompt #1104 by @promptsforthestrugglingauthor: “Hey, do you know if potions expire?” “I think it depends on the potion. Why?” “Well, I was really hungover this morning and grabbed the wrong glass and I feel super weird right now.” And "Everyone knows they’re dating except them” from the Cliché A Week Challenge by @montocalypse. The plan is for this to be 4-5 chapters at most BUT I'm not ready to commit to a number just yet so we'll see how that goes!

[ao3 link]

Harley wakes up with a pounding headache that makes her wonder if someone stole her bat and tried to crack her skull with it last night.

"Ughhh..." she groans, squeezing her eyes shut. Her mouth feels like sandpaper. Her throat feels like... like sandpaper. Listen: she's not in any kind of mood for elaborate, imaginative similes right now. Everything is pain and/or sandpaper. Deal with it.

"Fuck me." It comes out in a whiny, pathetic little voice, and Harley is almost more pissed off about that than about the hangover itself. Where is she, anyway? She forces herself to sort of... perceive the world around her without moving a muscle or opening her eyes, which may not be the best approach but it works anyway because she totally knows Ive's apartment by smell.

As friends do.

Once that's settled, and she knows she's in fact safe (how could she not be? She's at Ivy's!) Harley moves her right hand and feels around for the bedside table, but apparently she didn't climb into her usual side of the bed (friends have sides of their friends' beds, obviously) because what she feels on her right side is soft and warm and definitely not a bedside table.

"Sorry." She mumbles, affectionately patting Ivy's ass before turning over to the other side and trying again. She does find a table this time, and she nearly cries in relief when she finds a little water bottle waiting for her parched lips to drink.

Score.

It's only when she's downed the whole thing that she realizes two things:

One, that did not taste like water.

And two, there is a reason Pam goes professionally by Poison Ivy.

"Shit," Harley stage-whispers, blue eyes now wide open as she stares at the empty bottle in her hand, "shit, shit, shit."

Harley knows she's not dying. She knows she's immune to toxins, and she's cuddled the fuck out of Ivy (as friends do) on enough occasions to know she doesn't break out in hives at Ivy's touch. But the thing about Ivy is, she's kind of an overachiever. There aren't just toxins to worry about. Harley could be about to turn into a fern or something, and nobody could do anything to prevent it.

Well, except Pam.

But you know what? Considering the kind of mood Ivy gets in when Harley makes a less than stellar choice, she's gonna risk turning into a plant rather than waking her up.

"Morning, sunshine." Selina walks -- nay, prances -- into the bedroom looking flawless as always, which is pretty fucking unfair considering her presence at Ivy's can only mean she was there for whatever hangover-causing shenanigans they all happened to get into last night. But of course, Selina Kyle is above looking like shit while hungover.

" Selina ," Harley all but hisses (which is fitting, considering Selina's... you know), showing her the empty bottle, "I fucked up."

"When do you not fuck up, Harley?" It comes off as both smug and somehow charming, which is, again, pretty fucking unfair. "What did you do this time?"

Harley shows her the empty bottle once again, shaking it slightly like she cannot believe Selina isn't getting the gravity of the situation right away.

"What? I don't get it-- ohh ." Selina lets out a quiet chuckle that sounds almost like a purr. "Yeah, you fucked up."

"Dammit, Selina! What if I turn into a fucking succulent?"

"Oh come on, don't be dramatic. What color was it?"

Harley stares at her. "Don't you think I'd have known not to drink it if I'd looked at it?"

"I mean, I tend to assume people look at things before putting them in their mouth. But you did fuck Joker, so..."

"Hurtful." A beat. "Fair, yes, but still. Hurtful."

As if on cue, Ivy rolls over in her sleep, draping her arm across Harley's lap. Harley smiles, momentarily forgetting the bottle and its contents and the potential result of her having drunk them, because Ivy is just such a good friend. Protecting her from Selina's... well. Selina-ness even in her sleep.

"You guys need some privacy?"

Harley doesn't stop gently tracing the vines on the back of Ivy's hand, but she does look away from soft green skin to shoot Selina a teasing look. "Aw, does someone need scritches? Here, pussy pussy..."

Selina rolls her eyes. "Fine. Turn into a fucking sequoia for all I care. At least you'll be good for climbing."

The soft movements of Harley's fingers stop as Selina's words fully sink in. "Wh- what?" Harley's voice sounds a bit deflated, like one of those sad clown balloons after a sad balloon fart.

"I'm just saying. Pheromones and chill forever as a human-tree abomination? Kind of her signature move."

Harley just stares at Selina, horrified at the prospect of spending the rest of her life as a brain-dead tree and trying (and failing) to come up with a plausible reason why there is no way Ivy's pheromones were in that bottle.

"Anyway!" Selina sighs, stretching her arms up over her head. "I should get going. I have cats to feed."

"Wait. Wait!" Harley stage-whispers, and she's suddenly extremely thankful for Ivy sleeping like a log.

Heh. Like a log .

"You can't leave me, Selina! What if you're right?"

"Oh, come on, kitten," Selina says over her shoulder, already on the way to the door, "if it was pheromones you'd be in love with her by now."

The sound of the door slamming shut behind Selina is enough to finally wake Ivy, and Harley feels her best friend's arms tighten around her as Ivy stretches awake.

"Mmmhey, Harls." Ivy mumbles, voice rough and heavy with sleep as she moves even closer to Harley.

Normally, Harley would've just sunk back into the most comfortable bed ever (there's a reason she rarely sleeps in her own!) and gone in for a round of lazy morning cuddles. She'd have basked in the smell of Ivy in the morning (freshly cut grass sparkling with dew drops) which is so different from the floral notes of Ivy at any other time of the day. She'd have pressed a kiss or two to Ivy's warm skin, felt her lips tingle with the sweet taste of a poison she's very much immune to, and maybe even fallen back to sleep listening to Ivy's heartbeat and the soft rhythm of her breaths.

You know. As friends do.

But today, thanks to Selina (the fact that nobody forced Harley to drink that stupid bottle is irrelevant, of course), Harley can't relax. She stiffens, even, becoming virtually un-snuggable and making Ivy fully open her eyes to give her a questioning look.

"You okay?"

"Yeah. Yeah, of course, Ive!" The enthusiasm is as fake as her smile, and the way Ivy's eyes narrow tells her it's been very much noticed. "Bit hungover, that's all."

It takes a couple of seconds for Ivy to speak. Like she's pondering whether to mention there's never been a hangover bad enough to keep Harley from getting her cuddle on or to just let it go for now. Harley's delighted to see the second option win in the end.

"Want me to give you something for the headache?"

"Nope!" Harley's on her feet in two seconds flat, practically jumping away from Ivy's warm body and her warm eyes and the warm offer of some nice natural drugs. "Thanks, though. You're sweet as pie, butter...fly."

"Butterfly." Ivy deadpans from the bed, looking more and more like she's mere seconds away from researching actual mental health facilities in Gotham (Arkham does not count).

"Buttercup doesn't rhyme with pie. Listen, I should go. I have so much to do. There are-- well, you know! Havoc won't wreak itself, right? Gotham needs me."

"To... wreak havoc."

" Pre cisely. Gonna wreak it real good. You know me! Won't settle for a half-wroken havoc."

"Wro... ken?"

"Oh, for sure, for sure!" What is she even saying? Harley grabs her bat and swings it a little like she's holding a purse and not a weapon, but thankfully she doesn't break anything in Ivy's room, which is great. "Text ya later, yeah?"

Ivy looks like she's struggling to even begin to process everything that's happened in the five minutes she's been awake. And honestly, Harley's grateful for it. She hasn't noticed the missing bottle, and she's not forcing Harley to stay and answer questions, so it's a win/win/win situation if you ask her. You know... other than the potential mutant tree issue.

"Okay!" Harley grins. "Good talk. Bye, Red. Love ya!"

Shit .

Harley freezes for a moment. She's told Ivy she loves her before. Of course she has! She loves Ive, and Ivy loves her. They're pretty vocal about that. But today isn't just any other day. She always loves Ivy as a friend, of course. As her best friend she adores and would absolutely kill and die for. The most important person in her life. The one person who's ever made Harley feel safe and loved and appreciated unconditionally. She loves Ivy in a way that makes her feel like her heart is a bit too big for her ribcage and sometimes it gets so crowded in there she's afraid she may pop a rib out of its socket or something, but then Ivy holds her and everything settles again.

You know. A friendly kind of love.

But does she love Ivy? Harley looks at her hands like she's expecting a few leaves to have sprouted there already.

"Harley. Seriously, are you okay?"

Ivy's voice snaps her out of her funk, and Harley knows she needs to get out before she's forced into a whole conversation about this thing.

"Peachy keen, Pam-a-lamb." Harley forces herself to walk towards the door without looking back, just in case. Just in case suddenly Ivy's surrounded by a pink fog of love, or whatever the fuck people see when they look at her while under the influence of her pheromones. I mean, she can't look even more beautiful than she does normally, right? That's not even possible. So it must be like... a heart emoji filter or something. She really doesn't want to find out. "Talk later!"

***

Harley looks at the melting cheese on her third egg sandwich like she's expecting it to hold the meaning of life. Or, at the very least, an answer to today's big conundrum. Is she or is she not turning into a tree?

And sure. Sure! She could ask Pam. This would be solved immediately, she knows. She could just ask Pam what was in the bottle and confess she's drunk it and just... put up with her mood for a while. No big deal! Except she really fucking hates disappointing Ivy, you know? When she gets all... cold and detached, and feels more like lettuce than lush tropical foliage.

Listen, trust her, okay? Sad salad buffet lettuce Ivy is just the fucking worst.

So she takes a bite of her sandwich and tells herself whatever she drank can't have been anything too dangerous. It's been a couple hours now, so she should've felt some kind of effect, right? She should be feeling a bit plant-y, at the very least. Maybe a bit nauseous or something. But she feels fine.

Well-- not fine , fine. She's still kinda rattled, but that's Selina's fault.

She's fine.

***

"Are you sure you're up for this?"

Ivy lets Selina handle the entry point (you'd think Gotham millionaires would've given up on skylights by now) and looks at Harley with a mixture of concern and distrust in her eyes. She clearly hasn't forgotten about their conversation in the morning.

"I'm fine!" Harley swings her bat around just to loosen up her bat-swinging muscles. She's fine. Not a plant, not in a love fog, not in any way dying. Totally fine. And , most importantly, not dealing with limp lettuce Ive. "It was just a hangover."

Ivy's eyes narrow just enough to make it crystal clear how little she trusts Harley right now, but for once Selina Kyle makes Harley's life easier instead of harder when she speaks.

"Ladies. This is a truly riveting conversation, but I have shit to do.”

“Like fucking a bat-fucking bat?” It may be a cheap shot, but it makes Ivy stiffle a laugh, and Harley kinda thinks that makes it the best joke ever.

But Selina simply cocks an eyebrow at Harley. “Are you sure you want to discuss regrettable sexual partners?”

Ouch. “Fair enough,” Harley concedes, already jumping through the hole Selina’s cut in the glass, “come on, we have an oil tycoon to kill.”

“Not an oil tycoon, Harls.” Ivy glides down on a vine, looking all majestic like some kind of forest nymph, and Harley simply has to stare and smile because how can she not? Look at her friend! “He’s been using an experimental fuel that causes—“

“Does it matter?” Selina sighs like even interrupting Ivy is exhausting, plucking a shiny gold ornament from a nearby table and making Harley wonder (honestly, not for the first time) if she just keeps shiny trinkets hidden in her catsuit like a magician to make it seem like she’s finding them everywhere. “Guy’s loaded.”

“It matters to me, Selina. Not all of us have the moral compass of a magpie.”

Harley giggles at Ivy’s joke. You know what? It may not even have been a real joke, because Ivy’s sense of humor is not exactly her best quality. But it was funny anyway.

“And if it matters to Ive, it matters to moi .” Harley points at herself with her bat and winks at her best friend, and honestly, who the hell cares what this guy does, exactly? Maybe he’s single-handedly destroying the Amazon, or maybe he just happens to walk through the grass instead of using the little paths when making his way across the park. Whatever it is, it’s important to Ivy. And if it’s important to Ivy, it’s important to Harley. And if it’s important to Ivy in a way that makes her smile like she does when Harley winks at her? Well, then this is absolutely Harley’s top fucking priority.

Things get interesting as soon as they turn a corner and step onto the plush carpet of the experimental fuel (hey, she actually listens when Ivy speaks) tycoon's private wing. And you know what? Harley's delighted to hear the alarms go off and a bunch of goons crawl out from their hidey holes like buff armed cockroaches. She knows Ivy and Selina prefer the whole... well, you know. In and out, clean and easy kind of approach to murder and robbery, respectively. But Harley's an action gal. She has the energy to burn and a bat to swing, and most of all, she has shit to not think about.

So she's delighted when this guy's goons happen to be relatively okayish at fighting, which is much more than can be said for most men she fights in this city.

"I'll go deal with him before he can escape," Ivy says, already walking towards the door to his office. "You guys all right out here?"

"We're great ." Selina says in that tone she has where she pretends she's annoyed but you can tell she's having a blast.

Honestly. Who wouldn't be having a blast? It's like whack-a-goon!

"So," Selina says as soon as Ivy's out of earshot, which Harley can appreciate as an act of friendship, "no pheromones, I take it?"

"Nope!" Harley punctuates the word by slamming her bat into some guy's face. "None at all."

"Huh."

"What?" She's distracted enough by Selina's reply that she actually takes a punch to the face, which only manages to piss her off. She turns to look at the guy who delivered the blow just so he can see the look in her eyes before she completely obliterates his face. "Holy shit, dude. Can't you see we're having a fucking CONVERSATION !?"

For the next few minutes, Harley focuses on getting rid of the last few men around them so they can finish talking. Sure, beating up idiots is fun, but that little 'huh' was just mysterious enough to grab Harley's interest. What could possibly be so huh-worthy about her being fine?

By the time they're done, there are a number of unconscious goons scattered all over the place. Harley pants, using her hand to wipe blood (mostly not hers) and sweat (mostly hers) off her face as she catches her breath.

"Whew. That was fun, right?"

Selina, as usual, manages to look spotless even if Harley saw her deal with several men with her own two eyes. Is Selina Kyle secretly magic?

Could be.

"I've had better." Selina uses one of her claws to unlock an ornate little box and gather the jewels inside. Can she smell expensive stuff? "Come on, let's go get Ivy."

"No, no, wait." Harley lowers her voice like she's scared Ivy may hear them somehow. "What did you mean earlier?"

"What do you mean, what did I mean?"

"You know," Harley motions in the general direction of the spot where Selina was when they were talking before, "with the huh."

"The what ."

"The huh, Selina! The huh!" Dark olive eyes narrow in confusion (and annoyance), and Harley groans because she can't believe Selina Kyle is being this thick. "I said no pheromones. And you said huh."

"Oh, that." Selina uses a polished silver platter as a mirror to reapply a lipstick Harley is frankly not sure where one would even carry in a skin-tight leather jumpsuit. The more time she spends with Selina, the more convinced she is she just doesn't abide by the laws of physics.

And the more time she waits for Selina to elaborate, the more Harley realizes she just... isn't going to, apparently.

"Uughhh!" Harley groans and uses her bat to smash a nearby sculpture. "You're killing me, Selina! What the fuck did you mean!?"

Selina cocks one perfectly manicured eyebrow (Harley can tell it's happening under the mask) and gives Harley a look like she can't believe she'd have the audacity to speak to her in that tone.

"I meant," Selina's tone is a warning, like she wants to make it clear she could have made Harley suffer more if she wanted, but she's choosing not to, "I found it surprising. You looked a bit loved up to me."

"What? Pffft." Harley lets out a chuckle and nudges one of the pieces of the sculpture with her foot. "Cut back on the catnip, Selina."

Loved up. Ridiculous. Does she love Ivy? Of course. Is she loved up? Of course not . There's no heart emoji fog. None at all.

"If you say so." Selina gives her A Look. The kind of look says she doesn't believe Harley, and she wants Harley to know that even if she won't engage in an argument about it right now. Selina Kyle can say a lot with one look.

For a moment, Harley considers pushing the issue. She could insist. She could give her a list of reasons why she's absolutely not loved up at all whatsoever. She could tell Selina how what she shares with Ivy is actually true friendship, and Selina would know if she was capable of bonding with anything other than cats and jewelry. She could tell her how there's nothing even remotely mind-foggy about her feelings for Ive (she could bring up she's seen that mind fog in action the many times Ive's put Batman under her spell, even). Harley could tell Selina how her brain always feels a bit foggy in a vague kind of way -- just foggy enough to keep Harleen quiet and let Harley take the wheel -- but being with Ivy makes her feel more lucid, more real , than anything else in the world. How when Ive says she loves her Harley feels it right in her bones, in the very marrow of them, in the deepest, darkest, longest-forgotten parts of her brain where no other feeling can ever reach.

She could tell her how wildly different all that is from a silly potion-induced love fog. But she doesn't think Selina would understand their friendship even if Harley actually spelled it out. So she doesn't.

Instead, she silently follows Selina towards the office where Pam's been doing her thing. Where Pam's still doing her thing, actually, and Harley can't help but smile and lean against the doorframe to watch her best friend doing what she loves most (after Harley) in the world: eco-conscious murder.

"I fucking swear ," Ivy hasn't realized they're there, so she must be talking to what Harley can only assume is the tycoon himself even though only one of his legs can be seen outside the enormous mouth of a very happy-looking carnivorous plant, "how hard is it to not print out e-mails? Look at all this shit. Do you know how many trees had to be killed so you could print out your shitty... whatever the fuck this is?"

Ivy groans like she's frustrated she can't use her powers to just will all the papers scattered everywhere to turn back into trees. There are vines everywhere -- like nature reclaiming the furniture and the walls and the floors and really every surface of his office. There's a strange beauty to it, Harley thinks. Haunting, like those pictures of abandoned buildings covered in grass and moss and weeds. Even when she's angry -- and oh, she's angry right now -- Ivy really can't help but make the world a more beautiful place, can she?

Even when she was on the other side of the reinforced glass, wearing her glasses and her white coat, Harley never fully understood why Poison Ivy was lumped in with the rest of the psychos in Gotham.

Harley doesn't know how long she stays there. Selina's happily working on the safe next to the carnivorous plant, and Harley's more than content to just watch Ivy in her element for a while.

And then, it happens.

Ivy's going on a rant about a bunch of single-use coffee cups she's found in the trashcan by the desk when she suddenly stops in her tracks. Harley can't see what she's looking at until Ivy turns around with a small flower pot in her hand, a sad-looking, mostly dry plant limply hanging off its side.

"Fuck him."

Ivy touches the plant and her brow furrows, and Harley knows she's feeling the thirst and the pain in the little plant as if it was her own. "You're okay now," Ivy says as the plant starts to recover, and her voice is so soft -- so full of love for a dry, nearly dead plant -- that Harley swears she feels her heart grow at least a couple sizes. She watches her best friend breathe life into a little plant, watches it turn from brown to green, brighter and taller, watches it sprout new leaves that make it look like it's stretching after a long sleep. And then she watches a bright yellow flower bloom, and when Harley finally manages to tear her eyes away from the flower to look at Ivy instead, she swears she feels her heart stop dead in its tracks.

Ive's always beautiful. Always, without fail, no matter what time of day or night, lounging at home or brooding in an Arkham cell. Pam is beautiful always. But Harley doesn't think she's ever seen her look more beautiful than she does right now, with her hair slightly disheveled after a fight and some blood (not at all hers) splattered on her face and clothes. It's the way she's smiling at that little plant. The way her smile grows and softens when she notices Harley looking at her. Harley's so enthralled by Ivy that she doesn't realize what she's thinking until it's been running through her mind for a while.

God , Harley's in love with her.

And that's when she realizes. That's when she hears the proverbial record scratch in her brain and her eyes widen in horror because there it is. There's the pink fog before the botanical mutation, right? I mean she can't exactly see a literal pink fog, but she may as well. She can feel her heartbeat all over the place. The butterflies in her stomach. The nearly all-consuming need to grab Ivy and kiss her until neither of them can breathe.

"Shit. Shit, Red, shit, shitshit shit ."

Ivy's no longer smiling. At all.

"Oh God, Pammy. I fucked up." Harley feels her eyes well up with tears as she rushes towards her best friend because this is no longer a hypothetical: this is happening. She did drink something dangerous. And suddenly keeping Ivy from finding out and getting mad at her feels less important than fucking surviving. "I fucked up, Ive, I drank a potion and now I'm turning into a fucking plant, please tell me you have an antidote."

"Harley. Harl, look at me." Ivy looks so genuinely concerned Harley's sure the ridiculous amount of love she can see in green eyes must be part of the potion's effects. She's hallucinating, isn't she? "What potion? You're immune, Harley, you know that. Calm down."

"No, no! Not poison, I mean--" Harley shakes her head but has to stop when Ivy places her hands on Harley's cheeks to hold her head steady and look into her eyes like she's wondering if Harley's on drugs or something. "I mean a love potion, Ive! Shit, I thought it was water and I just drank the whole thing and I thought maybe it was nothing because I felt fine but now I know for sure I fucked up because I'm so in love with you like-- just feel this!" Harley grabs one of Ivy's hands and moves it from her cheek down to her chest, pressing it right where her heart is still skipping all over itself. "Right?"

"I-- I don't-- Harl, what potion ? You're immune to all of my--"

"The pheromones! I don't know what it was! God I'm such a fucking fuck-up and now I'm just-- shit I hope I at least turn into a rhododendron bush or something because I don't want to be a succulent, Ive. Don't let me turn into a succulent." Harley's really crying now, black mascara running down her cheeks and staining Pam's hand as she struggles to breathe through her words. "I know I should've told you but I didn't want you to be disappointed and now I'm in love and it's just-- Selina, you tell her!"

"Selina?" Ivy turns around like she's just realized Selina is still in the mansion, let alone in the room with them. "What's going on?"

Harley was expecting Selina to tell Ivy exactly what happened that morning. She was expecting Selina to tell Ivy all about Harley being an idiot who drinks things without looking first, about the pheromones and chill, about Harley's refusal to tell Ivy right away. Instead, Selina looks... almost like she's the one who's been caught in a lie.

"Selina, what the fuck did you do?" Ivy's voice sounds like she's mere seconds away from feeding Selina to the plant, too. Harley can feel the anger like tingles where Ivy's hands are still pressed against her skin. "What did you give her?"

Selina lets out a sigh. "Margarita mix."

"What?" Harley feels a lightbulb go off inside her brain. That was the weird taste when she drank whatever was in that bottle. Fucking margarita mix. But just.. "Why? What the fuck, Selina? Why would you let me think it was pheromones? I know Batman doesn't actually fuck bats, probably. Come on, it was a joke! Mostly!"

"Will you relax?" Selina sounds like she can't believe Harley may be a bit agitated after spending a whole day thinking she's going to die and/or mutate into a plant. "I'm sick of watching you two idiots pretend that ," she points in the general direction of Harley and Ivy, "is just a couple of gals being pals. Figured I'd help you out."

"Help!?" Harley could just-- God , she could just smash Selina's face in with her bat. But she suddenly realizes there's a much more pressing issue to handle before revenge can even begin to be considered. "Shit, Red," Harley takes one step back to look at Ivy, and for the first time ever she's surprised to see she can't read the look in her eyes, "I didn't mean-- you know I didn't mean any of it, right?" For a split second Harley swears something like pain flashes behind green eyes, but it's gone as quickly as it appeared. "I was just worried and I-- I got in my head about it. But you know I didn't mean it. You know , right? Pammy?"

It takes Ivy a few seconds to answer, and when she does she sounds... different. "Yeah. Yeah, I know."

For some reason, it doesn't sound as reassuring as Harley though it would.

"Come on, Ive--" Selina tries to keep talking, but Ivy cuts her off.

"Listen, we're done here. So I'm just gonna..." Ivy shakes her head like she's trying to physically clear it of thoughts and feelings and general clutter, "I'm just gonna go home."

Harley feels like she's stuck to the floor. She just stands there, silent and frozen in place as she watches Ivy leave. She knows this isn't right. She knows something just happened -- something she can't quite wrap her brain around right now. All she knows is Ivy's leaving, and she wants her to stay but she doesn't know how to make her body move or make any noises until her gaze drops to the desk and she sees the little plant right there.

"Ive!" Harley grabs the pot and runs out just in time to see Ivy's vines lifting her up through the same skyline they used to get in. "Ivy, you forgot the plant!"

But Ivy doesn't come back.

#harlivy #harley x ivy #fic #harley quinn/poison ivy #cliche a week 2021 #this is my first chaptered fic i can't guarantee it won't be a hot mess #comics #dcu #poison ivy

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just-a-quirkless-loser · 4 years

Text

How Could You Love Me🥺🐬

Gang Orca x Reader

I’ve never seen any fanfiction for this character and I think he deserves it🥺hope you enjoy it.

—————————————————————

It was no secret that Gang Orca was a scary looking figure. Hell, his fanged teeth often hung over the sides of his mouth and his hands had pointed fingers, making his look more like a monster than anything else. He had dealt his whole life with coming to terms that the public would always see him as a monster.

However, no one knows what type of person he really is. No one knew that his real name was Kugo Sakamata or that he can’t stand to eat certain seafood or that his heart fills with sadness whenever people tremor with terror when they see him. No, the public knew him as this savage beast.

Luckily for him, whenever he enters his favorite bakery, all his anger and sadness leaves. All because he sees you, a lovely woman with bright eyes and a full smile. You sit behind the counter and greet him the same way as you have dozens of times before.

“Haiii, Sakamata. I saw you save a bunch of kids from that fire yesterday. Are you okay? I know heat really bothers you. I made some special tea cakes for you today anddddd they have little orca decorations. Get it? Cause you’re an orca? It might not be the most original thing ever but I just thought it was cute,” you hush to him as he enters. At the beginning of your daily encounters, he couldn’t believe how friendly you would be. He hadn’t been expecting friendship when he entered the shop for a quick snack run.

“I think it’s nice how passionate you are. And, I’ve told you to call me Kugo. We’re friends,” he grinned as he looked at the tiny cakes on the counter. “And, I think those cakes are perfect. They’re all for me?”

“Yep yep. I wanted you to have something special this morning,” you started putting the cakes into their container. “You didn’t answer my other question though. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“You know, I can tell when you don’t tell the full truth. The left side of your mouth twitches up,” you wipe your hands on your apron as you hold out the box for him to grab.

“Well, I’m doing as well as I can be.”

“Did it happen again?” You were referring to the reactions the hero would get whenever he saved someone. Even if he’s a pro hero risking his life, people still chose to scorn him and his looks.

“I can’t really blame people for how they act. I’d be scared too,” he held out the bills for the cakes. You pushed the bills back towards his body, refusing to make the man pay after all he does for you. He even does extra patrols around your shop to scare off and villains. “Let me pay you.”

“No, I pay you with delicious sweets. And, if it’s any consolation, I think people are fools for what they’re doing to you. I’d never be scared of you,” you smile. Unknown to him, your feelings had been growing for the man. You loved his dedication to his work and his steady positive attitude. If it were up to you, you would have him return your feelings. However, you’re a chicken.

“I’ll be back later. I’ve got more work to do,” and he was gone just as quick as he came. While he had come into the shop with a small frown, he left with a large smile which seemed to scared civilians enough to part for him as he passed on the street.

He munched on his cakes, wondering if you tasted the same way. His mind often wandered to what it would be like to be with you without having to pay you visits at your shop. How would it feel to kiss you and worship you? Would you shy away from his? Were you as vocal as you normally are as you’re being held down and pleasured beyond your comprehension?

‘I need to stop this thinking. It only hurts more knowing I can’t have her,’ and it hurts even more for you to watch him leave your shop every day, taking a bit of your heart with him

Gang Orca walked through the town for the day, patrolling for any crime and appreciating the fact that it was a slow crime day. He only had to stop a few purse snatchers which wasn’t hard given they ran away as soon as he appeared.

He walked back to your shop, an extra pep to his step as he thought about seeing you. You’d most likely be closing up with a few strangling costumers, flour dusting your delicate cheeks, your shirt sleeves rolled up to your elbows as you cleaned up the rest of the sweets that weren’t sold.

“Oooops sorry, Kugo,” he walked in only to be ran into by your smaller body. You had been carrying around (well, more like dragging) a table. “Would you mind help?”

“I’d be honored to help. And, you should pay more attention. What if I was a robber?” He picked up the table from your grasp. You continued to smile up at him, rocking from side to side as you jumped from excitement. He briefly wonders why you’re so happy.

“Then, I’d be getting robbed for money that they’d have to pull from my cold, dead hands,” he sputtered. How the fuck can you say things so casually?

“No one is getting robbed. You’re missing the point, Y/N. You need to be more cautious,” he chided you with a gentle chop on the head. You pouted but nodded your head in agreement anyway.

“Yes, dadddddy,” it was meant to be a joke but, your words made him growl lowly. You cocked your head at the sound, wetness slowly pooling.

“Uh, sorry,” he looks away from you and you swear you see a ghost of red across his smooth skin.

“Yeh it’s-it’s cool,” you waddle away to go get three bottles of water. It’s become routine for you and him to share drinks so he can replenish his strength. A few of your costumers are still at their tables, some frozen with apprehension of the hero.

“Mommy, is he a villain?” Kugo can hear a hound boy ask his mother. They sit right behind him, right behind is large frame that shrinks to make the boy feel more at ease. “Mommy, I’m scared.”

“He is kinda scary but, it’s okay. He’s a hero. Let’s just leave in case he isn’t friendly though,” you come from the back just in time for the woman to be caught trying to rush out.

“Umm, you have to pay,” you push the water bottles into his chest and turn to the mother with hands on your hips. “You didn’t just sit here and eat all those fucking bonbons just to steal them. And, in front of a hero nonetheless.”

“We we’re going to pay. Just...tomorrow,” the woman shuffles from side to side, throwing anxious glances at Sakamata.

“Why when you could pay now? I should make you cough everything up so you can eat it tomorrow then,” it’s moments like these Kugo is reminded you’re not always as sweet as your aura suggests. He’s learned that you’re not a pushover when someone pisses you off.

“My son is afraid?”

“Of what?!?! There’s a literal fucking hero here. I know you saw him; he’s impossible to miss.”

“No, you misunderstand. He’s afraid of the hero,” there’s a pregnant pause before she speaks again. “See, I knew you’d underst-“

“Get the fuck out of my shop and never come back,” you say it with such venom it surprises him. You look at her with fury as you close into her space. “You think you get to encourage your son judging him without consequences? People like you make me sick. You should be teaching him to appreciate people, no matter what they look like,” you angrily shove her shoulder backwards, making Kugo step in to pull you into his chest.

“Calm yourself, little one. Don’t get yourself worked up over me,” he whispered into your ear. You sank into his body, allowing him to calm you.

“Did he just threaten you? Do you need me to call someone?” She just had to say something. Self-restraint has never really been your thing anyway.

“He just saved your ignorant ass. I already told you to get out of here. If you aren’t gone in the next moment, I’m going to slam your face into the wall behind you and make your your child watch as I pull your hair from your scalp. Then, he’ll see that anyone can be a fucked person, no matter how sweet they may look,” you had a dark look in your eye. You sound more like a villain than he looks (and that’s saying something). The woman scurries out, followed by some of your costumers that had heard the incident. Something tells you they won’t be back any time soon.

“I never knew you could be that scary, little one,” with your costumers gone, the large bakery felt hot and heavy. Sakamata seemed to dominate the air with few words, making your inner submissive mewl in his presence.

“She pissed me off. It’s because of people like here that kids grow up to fear you; discrimination is taught,” you sighed as he pulled you even closer, his hips pressed into your back.

“You can’t put the blame solely on her.”

“So, that just gives people the right to mistreat you?”

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

“Then, what did you mean?” You pushed away from him so you could turn around to face him. Why can’t he just accept that this isn’t his fault?

“I hate when you look like that,” he was closer than ever before. Your breaths came out in puffs that mingled with his.

“Like what?” You looked like a picture out of a magazine with your lips slightly parted, your pink tongue farting across your lips, silently challenging him to lean in to taste your essence.

“Like you’re anything other than happy,” he settles for resting his forehead on your own. You could only wonder what the two of you looked like right then; the large man hunched over to meet your small frame.

“How can I be happy when you talk down on yourself? Why can’t you see what I see?” tears flowed as your fists beat on his chest to ecentuate your words. If only you had stopped to feel how hard his heart was beating for you. “Why can’t you just love yourself like I love you?”

Your confession stuck in his brain, hanging around to his every thought. Knowing you felt the same have him a faint hope however, he crushed it just as quickly as it came. Women like you don’t fall in love with men like him.

What type of life would you have if the two of you started to date? He couldn’t take you on normal dates, he wouldn’t be able to show you off as normal people do, you’d miss so many things as you bound yourself to him. How could he possibly do that to you.

“How could you love me,” he pulls himself away. He knows his next words will hurt you but, he’s convinced himself that this is what needs to be done. “When I don’t love you?” And he left you there in your shop, broken to the realization that men like him don’t belong with women like you. Words haven’t been created to describe the pain you feat and the sense of defeat that crossed into you.

It was your fault for falling in too deep. You fell for a man that you had only know from stopping to your shop; a man that you can admit you barely knew. Maybe, you persuaded yourself that your infatuation was something beyond the mere encounters, that your infatuation was blossoming love. Yes, it was your fault.

He stopped coming to your shop and, eventually, you closed your bakery. You couldn’t stand being in the place that you met your first and last love; everywhere you looked, you saw him. You saw him moving tables and chairs, you saw him pouring cream hearts into lattes, you saw him rubbing his worker fingers on your face. If only it was real.

You opened another shop but, instead of working there like the last time, you hired workers. You didn’t have the will to put yourself in that situation again, knowing that he, not only shattered your heart but, stole your smile as well. All you wanted to do was lay in bed and watch t.v., not really paying attention.

“GANG ORCA, found wounded from latest fight with villain. He was rushed to the nearest hospital within-“ that got your attention. You were up and getting dressed. You started to narrow down the possible locations he could have been taken to fill you landed on the one (this being one of the only times your analytical quirk came in hand). You rushed to the hospital in your car, pretty sure you broke all the traffic laws.

Running in to the hospital, you were fearful of how you’d see the man you were still in love with. You knew he’d be bandaged but, you hoped that it wasn’t too severe (although, you knew you’d love him despite what he looked like). An inkling of hesitation was in your mind, not knowing how he would greet you if he was conscious. You can only hope for a good reunion.

“I need to know where Sakamata Kugo is,” you must look delusional with your hair barely combed and your half dressed appearance. You’re pretty sure you didn’t even put on pants. You look down to confirm you indeed only have on a very large sweatshirt (no doubt from the hero you come to visit).

“We can’t just let anyone up to his room,” you knew that what you were asking was selfish but, you had to see him. “Family can wait in the waiting room.”

You were led to a dreary room with tan walls and white stripes. You see his mother (it’s not hard to spot the only other Orca in the room).

“This young lady is here for your son as well,” you blush abashedly. His mother looks similar to him, a few differences in shades between them. Her teeth are still sharp but dull compared to his. While his eyes are bright red, hers are blue pools of pigment.

You sit there with her, rubbing her arm in the only normal way you can think. You wish you could hug her but, that seems too personal. She leans into your side but keeps enough of her weight off of you not to crush you.

“I assume you’re L/N Y/N?” you look like road kill in head lights as you look up at her. “He talks about you a lot. Well, not as much recently. He likes you. I can also assume that you feel the same way?”

“It’s complicated,” you look away from her to stifle a few tears that threaten to pool. Even after months of trying to move on, it still hurts. “I thought he felt the same way but, it was probably just me imaging things.”

“Hmm,” she sighs and places her hand on top of yours. “He’s not the best with emotions but, I can tell that he truly loves you. He’d never speak of you to me if he didn’t. Please don’t give up on my son.”

‘He gave up on me,’ you wanted to spout the bitter words but, you didn’t have it in your heart so, you resolved to nodding your head. You probably wouldn’t even see her again after you saw that he was fine.

“Sakamata Kugo,” a doctor comes from the back. The two of you raise to see him, both of you clenching each other tightly. “He’s fine. The blood made the wounds seem worse than what they were. He’s expected to make a full recovery within the next three months. I suggest that you see him one at a time though.”

“Thank you, sir,” he bids you farewell and you turn to grab your things so that you can leave. You found out what you came for. “Where do you think you’re going?”

‘Well, now I can see where he got his intimidation factor,’ you shiver as her eyes narrow.

“I just wanted to know if he would be alright. Now that I know, I can leave,” you’re pushed down into the seat behind you. She looms over you, she dares you wordlessly to defy her.

“You’re going to see him. I’m going to go in and tell him you’re here and then you both will squash whatever disagreement the two of you are having. And, then, you’ll come back tomorrow so I can get to know you more,” she walks off without waiting for your response. “If you leave, just know, I know your name and your face. I can find you if I really look hard enough.”

‘What the fuck just happened?’ You just sat there waiting, the time ticking by slowly. You really wanted to run but, you couldn’t risk her tracking you down. You can just imagine her dragging you from your home and into the hospital.

“He’s ready to see you now,” his mother pulls you from your seat and pushes you towards his door. You stand in front of it, hand on the knob as you still debate whether or not you should try to make a run for it. You doubt you’d get far but, it could still work.

“I know you’re there, Y/N. Come in,” you gulp at his voice. It still has its deep baritone that makes your panties flood. You peep your head in to see Kugo propped up in bed, his leg and right shoulder bandaged up. His red eyes glowed possessively, beckoning you to come closer. “My mother said you were here.”

“Uh yeah, I just wanted to check on you. I saw what happened on the news. We can just sit here for a few seconds so your mom thinks we talked,” you waddles from side to side.

“What makes you think I don’t want to talk?” His way eyes narrow just like his mothers did. Gulping, you try to look away but, he speaks again to get your attention. “Sit down so we can talk.”

“I just thought you wouldn’t want to after, you know,” you place your care keys and phone beside you as you take a seat next to his side. You lean against the bed to give yourself some comfort.

“I needed time to think. I came back to the bakery though,” why does it feel like you’re suddenly in trouble? “Funny thing though, the bakery wasn’t there. Any idea why?”

“We moved locations.”

“And, you never thought to tell me that?”

“It’s not your business.”

“You are my business,” he pulls you into the bed with him, laying you flat against his chest so that you can sit in his lap. “I never said I didn’t want to see you again. I just had to think.”

“It doesn’t really matter now. You made it very clear you don’t want me,” you sniffle.

“I never said that. I said some things that I didn’t mean. I was just scared of being with you. I mean, look at me, what kind of life could you possibly have with me? What would people think of you?”

“WHY CANT YOU UNDERSTAND I DON’T GIVE A FUCK WHAT PEOPLE THINK OF ME?” You want to punch him for the unnecessary torment he caused you. “You always think you have to spare me from something that’s not even fucking there. Why can’t you just admit you love me? Is it so hard not to give a fuck about other people’s opinions?”

“I love you.”

“Too fucking late.”

“It’s not too late if you came to visit me,” he sounds smug.

“You’re going to make this up to me.”

“I expect nothing less from you. I could start now,” his hands start to travel down your body.

“Uh uh. You gots boo boos. There’s plenty of time for that,” you giggle and flick his hands away.

“We’ll see about that.”

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Tag List💕

@sakurashortstack @sinclairsamess

#anime #bnha #fanfic #mha #mha fanfiction #ao3 #bnha fanfiction #gang orca x reader #gang orca

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astringofmadhousefloozies · 3 years

Text

Horse Friends

Yuu runs into Epel and gets an offer worth taking. Contains coarse language, discussions of masculinity/femininity and a fierce case of foot-in-mouth disease. Check my Twisted Wonderland Fanfiction tag for more, let me know if you enjoyed it, and if you ever want to let me know what you liked? Please do.

~*~*~*~

You like most creatures. Anything that deserves a pet should get one if they want it. So, you'd thought to yourself, let's go pet something you don't get to see every day. That's how you found yourself kicking around the edge of the horse pasture, watching majestic beasts eat and fart and amiably ignore your existence.

"You like them?"

You turned, and saw Epel had come up beside you.

"They're pretty cool. Not something I'm around much."

He nodded. "Wanna see a really big one?"

~*~*~*~

Did the barn smell bad or just like a barn? You couldn't tell, you didn't get to spend time in them and had no frame of reference. Where did they put the waste? You were thinking of asking where they buried the dead ones so you could go hunting with a shovel later when Epel came through the door, with the most fuckoff huge animal you've ever seen in your life. It was so tall you wondered if you could stand under it; a soft dapple grey, with long feathered fetlocks and a mane that reached past it's knees. It had to duck to get through the doorway, and stood, blinking, when Epel stopped, nevermind that this thing could probably swallow him whole if it had half a mind to.

"Are you sure it's not a kelpie?"

He laughed. "Ain't drowned anyone! 's nothing but a big guy. He's friendly! He's the one we use to teach riding."

You tentatively walked over and offered a hand. You did like horses - you really did! But they were very big, this one especially, and were deeply antsy despite being able to trample things easily. The last think you wanted was it to smell your nervousness and freak out.

It simply bypassed your hand, and instead nosed at your face with it's snout.

"He likes you!"

"I like him too." You prrbted his nose while he sniffed at you. "He got a name?"

"Beans."

"No!"

"Yes! Really."

"I can't believe Vil would let that slide."

"Yeah well, Beans was here first." Epel looked back and forth between you. "You want to try riding him? He's very gentle."

"Not today. But I'll take you up on that."

~*~*~*~

"Pull back to stop!"

You pulled back on the reins, and Beans stopped, and then started to back up.

"Nope, too much!"

You eased your grip and he stopped, flicking his ear an an errant fly.

This was the third time Epel had you up on the horse, and the first time he actually let you have the reins instead of simply leading you around. You weren't in a state of panic whenever the beast under you did something unexpected (though you jumped every time he or another horse whinnied; the sound drilled through your ears into the back if your skull in the worst way). The whole thing was pretty fun! Even if your legs got sore from straddling something as big around as you were tall.

Epel moved easily around on his own horse, a delicate-looking white stallion with murder in his heart, clearly a perfect pair. In the little bit of hanging out you'd done, you'd learned a few things about him:

- He hated being called cute. He was, which made it worse, but being treated as something precious drove him nuts.

- He was, by natural inclination, a rough and tumble farm boy. You knew more about motorbi- no, magical wheels than you ever had in your life, and now knew some truly vile curses that sounded wonderful coming out of his mouth.

- He really liked hanging out with someone he didn't have to pretend elegance around; which you had a feeling was part of why he started giving you private lessons. You were many things, but paragon of grace and propriety you were not.

Remembering what he told you, you lightly flicked the reins, and Beans started forward at a sedate pace.

"There you go!" Epel beamed at you, and you reflected your own smile back at him.

~*~*~*~

Today, he seemed sour, and you could not understand why, so instead of gong in to greet the horses, you stopped and asked what crawled up his ass and died.

"Nothin' you'd know 'bout."

"Try me."

He stood there glowering, until he finally said, "Am I girlier than you?"

You had to stop and really consider that. "Who started on that one?"

"Some asshole. They said you're manlier than I'll ever be."

You snorted. "That's like, a matter of opinion. I'm kinda butch, sure, but what it is is that femininity is... it requires effort." You moved your hands, in an effort to grasp the words. "It takes effort to put on makeup, or shave your legs. Stuff like that is required to be seen as feminine if you're a girl. Neither of which you do? You're not feminine, really. You're young and pretty. And pretty was never exclusive to girls."

This did not seem to help, so you continued digging. "And you're real pretty, Epel. Combine that with being real young, it makes you cute to others, but like... give it a few years. Yeah. You get a little older and lose the young babyface. You'll still be pretty, but you won't be read as cute, not the way everyone reads you now."

All of his sullen fury was now clearly at you.

"I'm sorry dude. I don't know how to use my words right. But I sure as hell ain't more of a dude than you. Because you actually are one."

He still stood there, and you thought of something to lighten the mood. "Did you kick his ass?"

He finally cracked a smile. "Thoroughly."

"Good. You want to do this today, or do you wanna just vent at me over people being assholes?"

He thought for a moment. "The second one, but don't say anything 'til I say so. You suck at making me feel better."

You nod and give an okay sign, which got a snicker out of him.

~*~*~*~

"And he says I shouldn't lift weights! 'oooh Epel, it'll ruin the lines', Vil can fuck right off and choke on mangey pig cock, he hasn't missed a day of lifting for eight years unless he was too sick to get out of bed."

You nodded, petting Lucius. He'd seen the both of you out on the grass and wandered over to play with people who were friendly, but not desperate.

"He's all Pomefiore ideals this and that and AUUUGH. I wanna stick a fork up his ass and beat down the doors of Savannahclaw until they let me change dorms."

You raised a finger, and he nodded. "But they don't do dorm changes."

"They do not and I hate it so fucking much." He flopped onto the grass, and you offered a hand that he high-fived. "It sucks. They wouldn't even move me when I went to beat Vil's ass when I first got sorted."

"You what."

"I did! Only got a swing in before he beat me down, but I tried."

"Please say there's a recording of this."

"He cursed every electronic in a hundred-foot radius just to make sure no one had footage."

"Boo."

He nodded. "That could have made all the money."

You nodded, until Lucius caught your eye and you swatted at Epel to get him to watch. Lucius, crawling through the grass, crept, sprung... and walked back over with a headless lizard, the missing piece long down his gullet.

"Finish it up, Lucius."

Lucius, his play done, walked away, leaving you both with the corpse.

"Gross. Should we bury it?"

"Maybe." The gears are turning, and you instead fetch back a grumbling Lucius. "Epel. What is this?"

He raised an eyebrow. "A fat old cat?"

You held up the irritated cat with a smile. "This is, pound for pound, the most efficient land predator on the planet. I know of cats that have single handedly eradicated entire species. Cats are eight pounds of asskicking. They will fu-OW" You dropped Lucius and checked the welling scratches on your arm. "Cats will fuck you up. But cats are also fluffy and cute and like to be cuddled. They're elegant and lovely, silly and playful. The murder and the cute is inherent to the cat."

He frowned. "Where are you going with this."

"I'm saying you're basically a cat."

He was silent for a beat. "Thanks, I hate it."

"How much?"

"Enh." He wiggled his hand. "I get what you're trying to say, at least. As long as you don't run around calling me that I’m good."

"A cat?"

"No, other C word."

Your brain drew the only conclusion you could think of. "A cunt?"

He let out the ugliest laugh you'd ever heard, and things were good.

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland fanfiction #epel felmier

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