hey guys. does anyone think about xavier and jade hahahah

north and south poles | minatozaki sana

summary: sana wonders, are we not the two sides of the magnet?

pairing: childhood-friend!sana x fem!reader

themes: extremely angsty, best friends to ?? to ??, internalized homophobia, gender dysphoria, sana's not too great of a friend, reader is a pushover until she isn't, implied sex, original male character, [----] x reader

wc: 3.3k

(side a: we can't be friends - ariana grande)

when sana's seven, her mother explains the cardinal rules in life. that boys and girls are polar opposites, like two sides of the coin, or like left and right. boys and girls are like the north and south poles of a magnet. and for a long time this holds true.

boys like to play rough, kick dirt over each other, chase after poor cats in hopes of catching them, or smack each other in the head. it's all a bit too gruesome for sana. she never did like watching them play, it felt like they were fighting. boys are like boxing matches, competing for a top winner. but girls are different.

girls are gentle, they play with dolls together, creating groups to play house or sliding down slides, and everyone cheers each other on. girls also like sharing cool things they found: cute rocks, rings, and toys. girls are like gentle waves crashing against the beach.

sana makes this distinction very early on, boys are boys and girls are girls. there's no in between for a seven year old sana. and life gets explained to her pretty easily by her mom. be a pretty girl, and you'll marry a good man who'll protect you and your family.

but her mother also told sana that you were a rowdy kid. a girl that played with the boys; you liked kicking dirt at the boys, chasing cats to catch them, or smacking each other in the head. but you were a girl, you also liked playing with dolls, and sliding down slides. you especially liked cute rocks, so you were someone she needed clarification with how to categorize as a kid.

so she asked her mom about you.

"oh her, she has no manners. her parents probably don't have enough time to teach her all that. they're both always so busy at work." her mother's chopping onions as she speaks, not lifting an eye at sana. and little sana rocks herself back and forth in the kitchen, a little confused by her own mom.

she's met your parents, they were nice people. offering royal milk tea to her, even if she wasn't allowed to have it. they always gave sana first pick for dishes they made, always. and like them, you often gave her parts of your lunch whenever sana was given too little.

and when sana enters middle school, this cardinal rule starts to shake a bit. boys are boys and girls are girls, but you are a girl, with boy-ish tendencies.

you liked playing rough with fuji, throwing dirt at each other even if it stained each other's school uniform. you liked shoving bigger boys when they were mean to girls, even if you had a black eye and sana had to rub a hard boiled egg over it.

but you were also as gentle as a girl, you held sana's hand gently whenever she wanted to walk along the rock wall, balancing on the ledge. you also helped blow and wash off sana's cuts whenever she scraped her knee in dance. just like how her mother does it.

you were the in between, and in between's don't exist in her mother's cardinal rule. when her mother and father sit at the dinner table and sana's mother asks her which boy in class she thinks is cute. sana doesn't think of any boy, but she thinks of you. you with your rough exterior with the older boys, but gentle and soft to sana, always.

"fuji?" her mother asks her. and sana thinks about fuji, a dependable friend in her life. a boy that is also gentler, although sometimes she thinks he's too loud during basketball. he shoves harder than you do, when you three play tag together. his hands are more rough, he towers over sana and really she sees him like an older brother.

sana thinks fuji is exactly the guy that her mother would like for her to marry.

"yeah, i think so." but sana really doesn't think so, her mind drifts off to your long hair and your soft shoulders.

--

when sana's twelve and excited to go home with you after the sga meeting, fuji confesses to her at the back of the school. he presents to her a letter. and through it all, the only thing she could gather was that sana was the prettiest girl in their class, and she has the prettiest smile.

all these compliments feel nice, but it doesn't stir her like you do. when you tell her that her hair is pretty today or that the bow she chose to match her shoes makes her look look fashionable. she stands by the wall, hands behind her back and staring at her shoes. all she can afford to do is nod at the words.

she knows this much, fuji is nice enough. he doesn't kick her chair like some other boys in the class; he always lets her walk inside the sidewalk when there are cars. so when he asks for a first date, she agrees, not letting her eyes look up at him. he walks away relieved, but sana can't feel anything other than a weight in her stomach.

another cardinal rule her mother told her is that lying is wrong.

so she asks for your opinion, and as she stands by your desk, watching you peacefully take a nap. she thinks about just ripping up the letter in her hand. she readies herself for the best performance of her life. to ask you a question that's self-indulgent. if you'll be her first kiss. and just like that she broke another cardinal rule, lying to you, but mostly to herself.

she thinks your lips would be soft, smelling like that cherry lipstick you like so much. and when you do kiss, she feels like she's floating. your hands are soft, when they cradle her jaw. moisturized with that cherry hand cream she gifted you. your hands are smaller too, they fit her head nicely. and most of all you're gentle. you pull apart, and sana nearly falls forward, body leaning into the kiss.

you stare at her in expectation, and panic surges through her body. you aren't fuji, you are the girl that's always played rougher than other girls. a girl that'll always give her 100% during class sprints, while all the other girls lightly jog. and the first thing she can think of is that she wishes you were a boy.

so she say's the exact words that tear your heart apart.

“wow yeah, that was good.” sana fiddles with her school skirt, “i wish you were a boy, you’d make a girl very happy kissing her like that.”

sana says that, but she watches as your eyes fall, hand dejected, and she can't help but feel like everything she knows about love is wrong. you don't say anything, so she leaves, closing the sga door behind her.

eyes welling up in tears as she thinks about how wrong this all is. if only you were a boy. she sinks onto the floor and cries into herself. when sana goes on the date, and fuji kisses her at her doorstep, she thinks of you. how he has to bend down to kiss her, and it all feels so wrong. later that night she starts a pros/cons list between you and fuji.

the only thing she has written for fuji is that "mother would like him." she tears the sheet of paper and tosses it into her waste basket.

--

when sana's eighteen and talking to her friends about boyfriends. all they have to say is that sex is amazing. they all talk about their first time and when they ask sana of what she thinks, she confesses that she's never done it.

"doesn't fuji ask you to?" one friend asks.

"no, he doesn't." the girl looks at sana weird but then shakes her head quickly.

"some guys are like that, they might not want to do it yet." she comments and then the conversation shifts on to talk about the latest school gossip.

sana's quiet for the rest of the week. she thinks about it, sex with fuji, and all she can do is groan. it's the natural progression of a relationship, but she feels like it's a weight in her stomach. that same weight she felt when he confessed to her.

so she does what she naturally did next when she was twelve; she finds you. she hasn't visited your house in years, it's still the same, even though there's a new door that she doesn't recognize anymore. and when she rings it, she finally sees you up close after so long.

she thinks about what she came here for in the first place. oh right, sex with fuji. so she comes up with the best excuse she can, that fuji wants to have sex. she knows its absurd, she's lying through her teeth, none of the reasons makes sense.

but the way you look right now, she can't think of anyone else she wants to have sex with. it stirs low in her stomach. her wanting you, so she lets a bit of truth in her lie.

"i need you to be my first, i want you to be. it can't be anyone else." sana is firm, but you look conflicted. eyes flitting all over the room. debating your morals.

she grabs your hands. eyes with want as she stares at you, and then you say yes. and suddenly the weight is lifted. sana feels like she's floating again.

when you pull her into your room, she feels like she's invincible. this room has always been so safe, and the way you stare into her with want, she thinks she wants to stay here forever in your arms.

the way you ask for permission, the way you constantly ask her if this is what she wants. asking if she's feeling good, gentle hands smelling like cherries that slip off her clothes. she thinks she'll stay naked like this forever if you asked her to.

her mind fills with you, shouting your name into the night where only you two exist in this world. she thinks this is right, this is what love is all about. this little bubble lasts only a night.

weeks later, she proposes sex to fuji, and he nods adamantly. like a horny teenager boy, which he is. but it all feels so off, even though she know's that he'll never cross boundaries. his hands feel too rough, he's too fast and he never asks sana how she feels.

sana feels the emptiest when she thinks back to how she thanked you when she left your room, when all she wanted to say was "i love you." and cherish you for the rest of her life.

--

when sana's nineteen on her birthday, all she can think of is how she hates fuji's arms around her shoulder. how you stare at the arm like it's the most offensive thing in the world. and sana agrees too, it is offensive, so she shoves it off, playing it off like she has an itchy shoulder.

she smiles at the way you relax back into your seat, like you staked your claim on her. it makes her feel wanted by you. even if she knows its wrong that you kiss her messily in the bar bathroom five minutes later, she feels like life is right.

--

when sana's twenty, bored out of her mind in her apartment with fuji. she thinks of you, she often does anyways. eyes wide when she comes up with the best plan. she purposely fights with fuji, calls him too suffocating, watching tears roll down his eyes, and she feels bad. she really does, she hates seeing him cry because of her, but she needs to get away.

so she calls you, bags packed and waiting by the door. her heart leaping in her chest when you knock on the door. grabbing her bags and asking her to stay in the car. giving stern words to fuji before finally leaving together. away from fuji.

sana stays with you for weeks, waking up and sleeping next to you. always attached to the hip, just like magnets. she lets herself believe this is her life, living with you, being with each other forever. she fits perfectly in your hold, as well as you in her. she always tells you she loves you, but only after you fallen asleep. she whispers it into your ears like they'll be heard. like a spell she put you under.

she doesn't think about fuji until he texts her much later, asking if it's okay to meet up and make up. so she goes back, feeling awful about letting her boyfriend believe she's mad at him. she avoids you for months to not feel the guilt. but it eats at her every day.

--

when sana's twenty-four and enjoying a stroll in the city with fuji. he proposes to her, with both their families around for the surprise. as she listens to him, one knee up, professing his love for her. she looks at her mother, her mother with happy tears in her eyes and she can't find herself to say no, so she says yes instead.

wedding planning is fun when she thinks about it as a wedding with you, so the best she can do is ask you to be her maid of honor. she presents to you the wedding invitation in your apartment. talking your ear off about how happy she is, watching you get more and more upset.

just waiting for you to tell her you want to run away with her, to elope together. move away and change names and live in europe together. she lists off all the things she can think of that a girl would like in a wedding, but you never ask her to run away. she knows its selfish, to want you to pull her out of her life, she just can't find the courage to pull herself out of it.

you show up to the wedding, in a gorgeous dress that she thinks that she would marry you in right now. you give a speech about how you, fuji, and sana all met. you talk with so much passion in your voice. she thinks that you might actually be happy for them. sana cries tears out of despair, maybe you really do think sana loves fuji. but she's in love with you.

when you make an analogy that fuji and sana are like magnets drawn to each other, the whole crowd awws, and sana feels her heart break. thats how she sees you and her, a perfect match. the rest of the wedding becomes unremarkable to her.

when you disappear, sana searches for you: eyes wide and frantic. calling up all your friends and family, but they all say the same thing, "she said she's going on vacation for a while, soul-searching?"

sana visits your house everyday, waiting for you to show up like hidden treasure. ever since she's found out she's been pregnant, she's been trying to find tell you about it. you should be the first to know, but you don't show up until a month later.

and when sana wakes up to the sight of you, it's like she's whole again. she walks away from that conversation sadder than ever, you don't drown in her eyes anymore. hands shuffling and changing positions often as she explains about her new incoming newborn.

--

when sana's twenty-five you walk out of her life. after the long labor and intense pain she went through, out came her little baby girl. wailing and crying at the introduction of the world, fuji's trying to wipe down sana's sweat and calm her down, but sana's drowsiness leads to her calling out your name instead, fuji think it's strange but doesn't comment on it. she sleeps for a long time.

when she wakes up to fuji excitedly telling sana that you are visiting. she tries her best to smooth out her hair and her heart rate jumps at the news. so she gets ready for you to visit her.

she thinks she'll name her daughter after you, the same girl she's so in love with. when she proposes the idea, you shut her down. she's never heard this tone before, so harsh and so mean. but she deserves it, the same way she knows she deserves all things bad to her when you look so dejected every time she leaves. she needs you by her side, she can't do motherhood alone with fuji, she doesn't think she can do life without you.

but then you say it, words that make her feel like her heart got pulled out of her chest. you pulled it out. you're moving away, a whole different country, a whole life without sana. and you want to, be away from sana. she can hear it in the way you say it, the way you stand up from the visitor's chair, having only sat there for a minute. the way you walk out of the room. you would have kept walking out had fuji not stopped you.

and sana's angry, after all this, you walk away. she can't tell who she's angry at anymore. angry at you, angry at fuji, angry at her mom, angry at the world. and she lands on it, she's angry at herself. with hot tears running down her face, you look back one more time, and you still leave. like you just double checked that it is exactly what you want to do, leave sana all alone.

--

when sana's thirty and thinking, "yeah, i am okay after all this time." she isn't. because her little girl has just run into you. and nearly hit her head, falling back. but with gentle and caring hands, you stand her back up. asking her daughter if she's alright. and as her daughter runs back to sana, sana can see you for the first time in five years.

your hair is longer, you look more tired, more lines on your face. but your eyes are still so wild, familiar eyes that she's found herself dreaming about for years. for five years to be exact, she dreams of you returning. so you walk up to sana and fuji, calm and collected about seeing them after five years.

but sana's panicking, like she's seen a ghost. you basically are a ghost in sana's life, she's been wondering lately if you really have been there in her life, if not for photos she really wonders if this is all a dream.

a dream that comes crashing down, you pick up a small girl, she's younger than sana's daughter. but she's got your wild eyes and cute nose. and sana thinks that she could die here. right now the rug could be pulled out from under her and she wouldn't utter a peep.

you have a daughter, and a wife. a gorgeous wife who smiles at you like how sana used to. and her eye line follows, you look your wife with the same passion of when you were both eighteen and far too stupid to understand anything in the world. you look at this woman like you used to look at sana.

"it's been a while." sana's voice cuts in. she needs to hear your voice after so long.

"yeah, i guess it has." you reply, finally looking at her after so long. sana gulps, willing the tears away. you sound the same, lighter than your last conversation, like you've made peace with it.

"honey, you're crying." fuji says wiping away sana's tear and you smile at that. like you've finally accepted fuji as her husband.

"oh i didn't notice." sana laughs, rapidly wiping her tears away. she's embarrassed, here she is thinking that you still love her, but you don't. not anymore.

sana tries her best to talk with fuji and momo. them talking about their line of work and interests. but sana can only stare at you.

eyes wide open.

--

a/n: i think im actually evil for writing this. like no joke. but anyways!! stay safe and stay healthy everyone!

Chapter 3: Splattered Brains

Series: “Eat Your Heart Out” Pairing: Hannibal Lecter x Female! Reader x Will Graham Word count: 4,6k+ Warnings: canon-typical warnings A/n: Plot twist—I couldn't wait. Enjoy it, my darlings. (unedited)

Main Masterlist || Hannibal Masterlist

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Will looks through the peephole before opening the door, his entire body tense. He glances back at you apologetically, and you know he wants to continue where you left off. You want more too, but you understand—there’s the world outside, with its mysteries and its demands, and you both have to confront it.

The woman on the other side of the door is someone you don’t really recognize. Her face rings a bell somewhere in the back of your head, but you can’t say for sure you’ve met her before. She doesn’t seem like a person that would linger in your memory for long.

“Will,” the woman acknowledges him, red lips pressed into a thin line.

“Alana,” he responds, his tone flat and devoid of any sympathy. “What brings you here?” 

Will’s face is frozen in a state of neutrality, neither annoyed nor pleased by the woman’s presence—it’s impassive. A tiny part of you wonders if he’s ever looked at you with this much disinterest.  You know he doesn’t have it in him, he loves you with his entire being, but the idea makes a sour grimace crawl onto your face.

There’s no happy greeting between them, and it’s selfishly comforting even though it shouldn’t be. You don’t know her at all, yet she seems to be the polar opposite of what you stand for. 

Alana’s eyes flit across the room, landing on you for the first time, and as her gaze lingers, she raises her eyebrow. Her face has a timeless quality, sharp angles, and beautiful, expressive eyes. But something about her doesn’t sit right with you. That look she sends you as if she’s inspecting you, trying to analyze you—you hate it.

“Don’t ask me that question when you already know the answer to it,” she says, her tone just as cold and detached as Will’s. “I’m here for a reason, Will. And the less you drag this out, the better.”

You notice Will’s fists clench at her words, you take his hand in yours, dragging the pads of your fingers across his white knuckles. He relaxes under your soothing touch. You take a step closer to him, pressing yourself against his shoulder.

“Just get to your point,” Will says, his coldness making the situation all the more tense. “What do you want from me?”

Alana stares at your entwined hands then her eyes meet yours again, and Will notices how her attention is immediately pulled solely to you—as if everything else is bathed in a thick fog. You notice how her lips slowly curve downward, just a bit. You think she might be envious.

She bites the inside of her cheek, proving you right. She’s jealous. You can’t help but smirk at this realization. Will glances at you, asking wordlessly for an explanation, because whatever game this is, he’s clearly not in the loop. You don’t give him what he wants this time.

“I will give you some privacy then,” you suggest, whistling at the dogs to follow you outside. You don’t have to call for them twice, as they run toward the door, waggling their tails. “Just don’t take too long. I don’t want to keep Crawford waiting.”

Before Will can object, the dogs dash out the door, and you follow in their steps, shutting it behind you. You know you did the right thing by giving them some space. How she treated Will was unforgivable, but he has to fight this one battle by himself—if you stayed there by his side, you’d probably bash her head against the wall. Not today. This fight has to be his.

You look over at the door, and you think you can hear their voices through the walls, but you’re not entirely sure. After a few moments, the door opens and Alana storms out. She doesn’t even look at you, she just turns on her heel and walks away, leaving Will behind.

You lean against the railing of the porch, the dogs snuggling up against your calves for pets and scratches—something you never deny them. It’s a moment of peace in a world full of chaos, and you can’t help but enjoy it all—even the chill bite of the winter air. It’s refreshing after spending all night and morning with Will, whose body radiated so much heat, and who left you breathless every time he was close.

He steps out on the porch, and you turn to face him, confusion written across your features. The man only shakes his head, staring at her retreating back. You don’t pry, and he doesn’t tell. There’s a wordless understanding between the two of you already—he’ll tell you when he’s ready, and his emotions are no longer an overwhelming susurration.

Will takes his place at your side, elbows leaning on the wooden balustrade. Both of you watch in silence as Alana Bloom walks down the driveway, soon disappearing from your view. 

“You don’t like her much, huh?” you ask, voice laced with irony.

You don’t really expect an answer, so he only rolls his eyes. But there is a hint of sadness in them, a tiny sign of his own disappointment, at himself, her—all of it. He takes your hand in his and leans forward to kiss your icy-cold cheek.

He pulls away then, his gaze fixed on you. “We should get going,” he says quietly. “You don’t want to keep Jack waiting.”

And he’s right. You’ve been out here a little too long, and Jack is bound to be impatient by now. You’re sure he’s already called twice to ask you where you are.

Your cheek still tingles from the kiss, but you remain focused on the way Will’s expression shifts slightly. He’s crestfallen, there’s no denying it, and you know this conversation took a toll on him—even if he doesn’t want to admit it. He calls the dogs inside, then locks the door. You squeeze his hand, and with a sigh of resignation, the two of you head to the car.

The cold has gotten to your skin, and you can feel every pore of your body aching for warmth. The windshield is covered in a thin layer of snow, and your body shivers as you wait for Will to swipe it off with his glove-covered hand. Even though he already unlocked the car, you refuse to let him suffer in the unforgiving winter alone.

Once he’s done, he joins your side and opens the passenger door for you. The protest on the tip of your tongue dies off when he guides you inside with a steady hand on the small of your back—you comply. He closes it behind your back with a satisfied grin that doesn’t really reach his eyes. He gets in the driver’s seat and starts the car, warming it from within.

You put on the seatbelt, and relax your muscles, letting your fingers trail along the armrest and the door, enjoying the warmth against your skin. Your mind is wandering, lost in memories of the morning and the little moments you shared with Will. 

“You know…” Will starts from behind the wheel, his eyes don’t stray from the road ahead. There’s a quiet moment between you two while he considers what he has to say, and when he finally talks, he barely mumbles the words under his breath, “I was thinking…”

“About what?” You raise your eyebrow in curiosity, giving him all your attention and more.

“Well, I was thinking…” he pauses for a moment, the words struggling to leave his lips, he’s visibly tense.

You want to say something, help him find the words. It’s clear he needs a little push. So you reach up and caress his stubbled jaw—the lightest of touches—hoping the gesture can help ease him out of this nervous state.

It works. Will sucks on his bottom lip for a moment, still facing forward, but at least his face is calm now. “I’ve always been in love with you.” Even though it’s only a whisper, the confession sounds like thunder in your ears—its rumble shaking every tiny cell in your brain. “I never said it out loud until you disappeared. I regret it to this day.”

That’s all it takes for your chest to tighten and your heart to start hammering wildly. It makes you wonder if you’re on the verge of having a heart attack. You know you love this man—you know more than anyone else on this earth just how strong your feelings are for him. You were always aware that he reciprocated it—in his own intricate way, but there was no way to be absolutely certain. Hearing him say it now—gifted your mind with a blissful sense of peace.

You look at him, and you can’t find the words to respond. Nothing that comes to mind is even faintly close to what you feel for him, so you settle for a gentle squeeze of his thigh.

Will glances at you, his eyes roaming over the curve of your cheekbones, the shape of your lips, the long lashes fluttering over your eyes—you’re breathtaking. You don’t even need to respond—he knows how you feel already, and he’s just happy to have you by his side again. He’s head over heels, hopelessly and utterly—in love.

“I’ve never met anyone who made me feel the way you do,” Will continues, and the words ring out in the cramped space of the car. “Nobody has ever seen me the way you do. Nobody has ever loved me the way you do. You’ve been the only light in my darkness, the only source of hope in my life.” His voice softens with every word, and he doesn’t look at you as he talks, afraid he’ll get distracted if he does. He just needs to get it all out.

Your smile is so bright when he catches it in his peripheral vision—it could probably replace the stars at night. He takes a pause, and you wonder if all those words have made him feel better. It seems like that’s the case—he looks so much more peaceful next to you, no longer tense from holding in everything he felt.

Will chuckles, and it fills the air with a different kind of light that washes over you and makes you feel just a bit warmer. Just as you retract your hand from his thigh, his own reaches past the center console, his palm grazing your knee to find it again. He interlaces his fingers with yours, and you think you’ll die of joy, and you wish the drive in the car never had to end—you could stay like this, his hand clasped tightly to yours, forever.

Silence falls between the two of you, but you’re so close to each other that it feels like there’s no need to speak. The tension in the car is gone, and Will’s words still linger in your mind. I’ve always been in love with you…

You’re so caught up in this elation, you don’t even notice when you reach your destination. The brutalist architecture of BAU’s building makes you feel intimidated—more than you anticipated. It’s cold, uninviting. There’s also another feeling that crawls over your skin, a sense of dread, but you shake it off before it can completely take over.

Will pulls into a parking spot, turns off the engine, and faces you. “We’re here,” he says, a grim expression on his face. It’s so different from how you just saw him a mere moment ago.

You share that expression. You feel it on your face, the weight of it pressing down on your soul as you slowly realize that you’ll need to step away from the bubble of happiness you’ve been in. It’s not a bubble you would ever want to pop—so you have to leave it behind. Shut it off.

You take in the headquarters’ exterior, its harsh outlines, and the shadows it casts on the already grim streets of Quantico. Your stomach sinks. There’s a part of you that missed this place, being in the field and helping people—it used to be your dream—but now you despise it. You don’t want to go back to seeing dead bodies over and over again, hearing the murmur of their whispers that never disturb the air and never leave you in silence for too long.

“I’ll take you inside,” Will offers, but you don’t really have a say in it either way. Of course, he notices the solemnity on your face. He puts his hand on your cheek, the skin of your cold face against his warm palm warming you for a brief moment. “Are you okay?”

“No,” you answer simply. You don’t have to say anything more.

Will gently caresses your jaw, thumb brushing softly against your lower lip. His eyes are filled with concern for you. He nods slowly, his hand still on your cheek. You can’t even explain what you’re feeling right now, but he understands as much—he’s been there too.

“I know it’s not easy,” Will says softly. “But I’m sure Crawford won’t keep you there long.”

You’re about to voice your doubts, the million reasons as to why this is a terrible idea, but then you pause. You can’t seem to find them—there is no single coherent thought in your head, the stress of the day finally taking its toll on you.

Will sighs and pulls away, leaving his hand hanging in the air for a while before he finally rests it on his own thigh. He climbs out of the car, and you take a few deep breaths to try to quiet the voices inside your head. You don’t know what you need, you just know that you don’t want this.

You step out, and the silence between the two of you doesn’t go unnoticed. Will reaches out to you once again and puts a hand on your shoulder, as if he can’t decide what to do, either. He looks over your shoulder—at the towering building in the distance.

The man sighs and steps closer to you. He looks at you, eyes roaming over your face, scanning every single detail of your expression. His voice is soft, almost a whisper. “I know it doesn’t feel right being back here,” he says, his hands still resting gently on your shoulders. “But I need you to be strong, for just a few minutes. Okay? This might be important.”

You nod, willing to do anything for him—anything at all. The deep breath you take in almost makes your lungs flutter in outrage.

“That’s my girl,” he says, his voice a little softer than usual.

He pulls away finally but doesn’t let go of you entirely. His hand holds tight to your fingers, and Will starts to walk you toward the building. It’s cold, windy, and you’re not looking forward to a single second of being inside that building. You’d much better prefer to freeze here outside—maybe turn into an ice sculpture if you’re lucky.

There is an undeniable uneasiness in Will’s expression as he opens the big doors and ushers you inside. It’s a big lobby, and every person there is busy with tasks, on the phone, typing something or other away on their computers.

You see Crawford sitting on one of the couches in a corner that almost resembles a waiting room. He glances at Will, and his expression only hardens upon seeing you two together. You want to run away, but Will has a grip on your arm and doesn’t let go.

“Come with me,” Crawford says to you, his tone stern and a little annoyed, probably by the fact you’re twenty minutes late. “We need to have a long conversation.”

You share an unsure look with Will, he nods encouragingly.  You feel his hand gripping yours, and you notice how shaky you are. For a moment, you wonder what the hell you’ve signed yourself up for by coming here.

Crawford heads for the nearest elevator, not waiting for you to catch up with him. His attitude is clear—he’s annoyed, and he wants results. That’s how it’s always been, but you never got the chance to get used to it.

“I will be here when you come back,” Will promises, tentatively releasing you from his hold.

You nod in acknowledgment before following after your former boss with hurried footsteps.

It’s a tense, uncomfortable, and entirely too silent ride up to the top floor. The lights are bright, almost blinding, as the elevator rises. Crawford stands by your side, arms crossed over his chest, face expressionless. You wonder what he even needed you here for.

He walks ahead of you and takes out a keycard from one of his pockets. A moment later, he uses it to open a door in the hallway, revealing a large office. The lights inside are dim, almost cozy, and the view from the large windows is one you recognize. Crawford heads inside, telling you to follow with an exasperated sigh.

“They moved your office two more doors down the hallway,” you notice, looking around in curiosity. You hope your poor attempt at loosening the atmosphere works, even just a bit.

Once Crawford chuckles at your words, you know you succeeded. “You’ve always looked for distraction, haven’t you?”

He takes a seat behind his desk and motions for you to do the same. He spends a few moments looking you up and down with a blank expression, the kind he usually reserved for suspects at interrogation.

“Have I changed that much?”

Crawford shakes his head, a grin forming on his lips. “Not really.” He sighs and leans back in his chair, taking in the view from the nearby window. “Though you look older than I remember.”

“It’s been long eight years,” you admit with a nod. You don’t even want to think about all the new wrinkles that materialized on your face through those years.

His eyes travel over the length of your arms, and then over your face again. “I can see time’s been hard on you,” he says. You know he’s not referring to your physical appearance, and that’s what stings the most. “You haven’t had it easy, have you?”

“I managed.” You don’t give him more than that. The stories of your suffering are yours to tell when you feel ready—and you don’t.

Crawford’s lips narrow as he considers your response. He doesn’t seem to be one who accepts “I managed” as an answer. Then again, he’s never been the patient type. You’re surprised when he doesn’t question you further on the matter.

He leans forward to grab a folder from inside his drawer. “I brought you here because I wanted to talk to you about Hannibal Lecter.”

You sit up straight and lean forward in your chair. Your eyes, bright and curious, are fixed on Crawford, who seems to notice it.

“You seem interested,” he says in the same neutral tone as always. He opens the folder and starts flipping through the pages. Then, he sets the folder down and looks straight at you. “I’m here to ask you a question,” Crawford says, “and I want you to think very hard about your answer before you say it.”

The room is quiet, still, and your heart is beating frantically in your chest. The silence stretches on, and it’s so loud you can practically hear it. 

“Do you believe the Chesapeake Ripper murdered your father’s killer?”

You study Jack for a moment, noticing the gleam in his dark eyes, and the way he focuses entirely on your response. You weigh your options—you can deny it and trust that Will already has a plan to catch Hannibal, or you can tell the truth and hope your former boss doesn’t consider you delusional.

“Yes, or no?” Crawford urges you, his tone sharp. It takes all your willpower not to answer right away.

“I do,” you blurt out finally with a resigned sigh. “I think he did it.”

The man nods slowly, his lips pressed together in thought. He doesn’t seem surprised by what you told him—it almost makes you wonder how much he already knows.

“Do you have any proof?” he asks. That’s the million-dollar question, and you know your former boss isn’t asking it just to make conversation. “Do you have anything to support your claim?”

“I wasn’t allowed near the evidence.”

“Don’t bullshit me.”

You feel your stomach twisting into knots for a second, but you remain calm. Crawford is not the kind of man you can lie to, so you take a breath and say what you have to say, the words spilling out of your mouth on their own.

“I know it sounds crazy,” you admit, “and I can’t say that I expected you to believe me. But I know I’m right about this.” You can feel Crawford judging you with his relentless gaze, so you continue, “He lost far too much blood, yet there was no sign of it pooled around him. Not the amount he’s lost. It’s almost as if it was drained out of him.”

Crawford only nods. He doesn’t look at you like you’re crazy—he looks at you like he’s studying a puzzle. He considers your words, staring at your face, his expression still and unchanging. Your words feel like they’re bouncing in the air, waiting for a response, for something that isn’t silence.

“And you’re sure there’s no other plausible explanation for it?” his tone is curious, interested.

Your heartbeat quickens as you shake your head back and forth. “No, that’s impossible.”

He’s intrigued now. The man doesn’t say a word, but you can tell from the way he looks at you. Crawford looks like he almost believes you. He’s interested, alright—very interested.

“Do you think it was Hannibal?” he asks. You notice the change in his tone, and you know a yes or no response will not be enough for Crawford this time. He needs the answer to satisfy his curiosity.

He has an aloof expression on his face, the kind that never truly gives away his thoughts. It keeps you hanging in uncertainty, because you have no idea what you should tell him that could possibly sate that curiosity.

“I believe Will.” Your answer is short, devoid of anything he was hoping for.

Crawford doesn’t seem to like that answer, at least by the way his eyes narrow and the way his lips tighten into a thin line. Then, after a momentary pause, he leans forward in his chair, his elbows resting on his desk.

“And what’s this belief based on?” he asks, his tone demanding, almost a challenge. He’s expecting you to tell him, to give him a reason to believe you.

“He’s not insane, Jack.”

“What makes you think he’s sane?”

You don’t hesitate when you give your answer this time. “Because I know him.”

You notice his eyes studying you once again, his gaze not stopping on any detail of your face. He doesn’t comment on what you just told him, and doesn’t tell you whether he believes you or not. Instead, he leans back in his chair once again and sighs. He lets his fingers tap against the wood of the table for a moment, a small sound in the quiet office.

“Your father’s case will be reopened. Be prepared to be questioned again,” he says, his voice very much like the Crawford you know. “Now I need you to answer me one last question.”

“What is it?” You tilt your head, you almost look curious, as if whatever he wants to ask isn’t something that worries you. It’s a carefully built facade, and you hope he doesn’t see straight through it.

It’s an uncomfortable few moments, as Crawford takes a break from his tapping to look straight at you with those intense eyes. The wait is almost killing you—but the tension in his expression might be even more deadly. He’s thinking deeply, and whatever he’s just figured out isn’t anything that you would like to be privy to.

“I want to offer you a deal,” is all he says. He leans back, crossing his arms over his chest.

“What deal?”

Crawford takes a deep breath as if he’s been holding it in for the better part of his life.

“I want you to go back to BAU.”

“No.”

He blinks, completely caught off guard by your response. You didn’t think saying no would be that easy. He pauses before his lips form a firm line. 

“That wasn’t a request,” he says.

“Well, you can’t really force me.” You shrug your arms—not even slightly moved by the intimidating raise of his eyebrow.

“Actually, I can.”

The air around you changes. You can feel the meaning behind his threat like a heavy weight, pressing down on your skin, suffocating you. You go to breathe, but find that the air is suddenly too thin, that it’s like breathing underwater. The world around you buzzes like a lightbulb before it explodes.

You can hear the screams of your sister, her wretched sobs, her desperate begging for you to stop. The buzzing gets louder—the image of your father’s body sliding down the wall as his brains splattered over the flowery wallpaper burns alive in your mind. 

You blink once, then twice, making sure there’s no suspicion nor satisfaction on Crawford’s face. There isn’t and relief washes over you like a wave—one that’s perfect for surfing.

“You can’t.”

Crawford’s face contorts, his lips twisting into a frown. He eyes you carefully. You can tell his mind is racing, trying to come up with something to make you join his team. There’s a heavy silence between the two of you as if you could hear a pin drop. You wait carefully with your breath bated and watch your former boss, waiting to see what he’ll do.

“Do you want your sister’s case solved or not?” he taunts. So that was his leverage over you. 

It’s almost jarring to hear him mention her, to see him play this card. You take a deep breath and keep yourself calm. His thought process was on point—you had to give him that. You’d do anything for your sister and to get rid of that stormy cloud hanging over your head anytime the room was too quiet or someone dared to mention her person.

“Yes,” you agree finally, “I want her case solved.”

“Then go back to BAU. It’s your answer.”

That tone of his makes it hard not to laugh out loud. You thought it might be that simple—a yes or no, two letters of the alphabet. That didn’t apply to Jack Crawford, it seems. He wants an answer, and he will get one. A smile curls on your lips as you consider how to proceed. You’d have liked to have more leverage in terms of negotiation, but unfortunately, you have none.

“Then make me an offer worth my while.” You cross your arms over your chest and wait with a raised eyebrow.

Crawford is still the boss you know and love, albeit slightly confused by your attitude. It’s clear that this isn’t how he expected you to respond. His lips curl into a frown again, but he seems to think of something suddenly.

“I want you to join BAU as Will Graham’s partner. You’ve worked with him before, and I need you on the team,” he asserts. “I need you to look at his cases from your perspective. You will have access to all resources we have available at the bureau. That’s my offer. Take it or leave it.”

You can’t help the surprise that colors your expression now. Working with Will again, and having access to the FBI’s resources, it’s impossible to say no. Now you might have a chance against the cunning mind of Hannibal Lecter.

You don’t even hesitate as you say, “Deal.” 

Crawford’s eyes soften as he hears your answer, and you can tell he’s glad you’re not going to give him a difficult time.

“The decision is yours, then,” he says finally. Your eyes meet his. “Will you go back to BAU?” 

You nod in response, showing him the brightest of your smiles. “Absolutely.”

When I say angst I mean I’ve read all of your work twice and it’s sooooo good

I need it

OOOHHHHH!!! thank you so so much then! lemme think lemme think!! i hope this one will suit your needs hehe but i’m gonna do just angst w happy ending no smut bc i’m afraid i’m repeating myself so enjoyyy

Just Lovely

rhea x fem!reader

content: just angst, but happy ending! with a kiss probably!

The Feud, everyone called it. You and Rhea had hated each other since the minute you met. Unfortunately, you had some matches against her but the chemistry or lack of made for a good show, so they kept scheduling you to fight. You hated it. You always wanted to stay professional though, so you didn’t want to actually hurt her in the ring, just her ego. You were the complete opposite of her style, girly, flowery, pastels, but you became a heel for her only. Everyone ate it up.

Without requesting, the PA’s would make sure that you were on the completely opposite side of the locker room or in different ones entirely depending on the venue. Neither of you were sure why you hated each other but you didn’t have the will power to figure it out.

One day, the producers told you that you needed to fix the feud for the storyline. You refused of course and you assumed she did too.

“The people want to see the two of you kiss and makeup, essentially,” they said.

“I would rather never see her again, to be honest with you,” you fired back.

“Unfortunately, that can’t happen.”

“Unless she comes to me herself and says that she wants to, which I doubt she will with that big head of hers, I will not ‘kiss and makeup’ for the sake of the story line,” you cross your arms.

The men sighed as they nodded and walked away.

“Do I really have a big head?” the annoying accent said behind you.

You’re kidding, you thought. You turn around with your jaw clenched, rolling your eyes, “you win every match, how can you not?”

“Guess they asked you to play nice, huh?” she walked towards you.

You put your hand up to stop her from coming any closer, “yes.”

She stopped right at your hand, centimeters from her chest. You pull your hand away immediately, what was that about, you thought as your stomach turned.

“And what if I did want to stop ‘the feud’, would that be so bad?” she smiled.

“You’ve hated me the moment I got signed, why would you change now?”

“For the fans…everything I do is for them,” she sounded sincere, but you couldn’t help rolling your eyes.

“Oh shut up, you’re here because you bring in the big bucks, not because of-”

“Don’t start,” she growled.

“Did I pinch a nerve?” you pouted.

“I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for them,” she admitted.

You felt a soft spot forming for her but you pushed it down, “I don’t have time for this, I have the first match,” you walk away.

The show came and went, but you couldn’t stop thinking about her. She consumed your thoughts, she made you shake and see red anytime you thought of her. It was exhausting, honestly. Part of you wanted to stop this whole thing so that you could rest but it brought you more fame, and unfortunately you wouldn’t be where you are without The Rhea Ripley.

“Hey…uhm, Rhea wants to see you,” the PA was nervous, “I can tell her no, no problem, though she is pretty scary but I can do it.”

“Did she tell you what she wanted?” you were packing your bag.

“N-no, I didn’t get that far,” they were wringing their hands.

You sigh not wanting to scare them more, “It’s okay,” you reassure, “where is she?”

“In locker room 12.”

“Thank you,” you gave a weak smile and walked out of the locker room. You heard them sigh with relief behind you.

So you started making your way across the arena, it felt like. You racked your brain to figure out what she could possibly want. Does she actually want to go through with this? Does she have an ultimatum? Does she want to beat the shit out of me? All these thoughts ran through your head.

You knocked on the door and let yourself in without a response.

“Glad to see you got the stick out of your ass to come here,” she snickered.

“What do you want, Rhea?” you stood just inside the door with your hands on your hips wanting this to be over as soon as possible.

“To talk,” she gestured to the chair, “Is that okay?”

You squinted at her to try to figure out the game she was playing. You stood for a good minute before you decided to sit. You threw your duffle beside the chair as you sat down. You crossed your legs and your arms as you leaned back.

“Thank you,” she sat across from you leaning herself on her knees.

“Psh,” you rolled your eyes.

“About the storylin-” she started.

“I already said no,” you interrupted.

“And I would much rather not do it either, but I’m trying to be the bigger person here, princess,” she mocked.

Your stomach turned again, “For a heel, you’re too nice sometimes, you know that?”

“It’s a curse…anyway,” she leaned back, “I think we should do it.”

“Why?”

“Because we’ll get more attention. In turn, getting more of the women involved, and you know how we’ve been treated,” she seemed to be quite nice but somehow it made you dislike her more.

“I guess so,” you started to swing your leg, “what’s in it for you? There’s always a catch.”

“When has there ever been a catch with me?”

“Oh c’mon, you can’t be anywhere without your puppy dog Dom following you around on and off screen. He brings you more attention than you could on your own,” your tone was pointed.

“Don’t bring Dom into this, this isn’t about him,” she leaned herself back towards you with a point before leaning back again.

“Whatever,” you turn your head away.

“There is no catch, I’m serious. This would be better for both of us.”

You let that sit in the air for a moment before she spoke again.

“Why do you hate me so much?” her voice was small.

You looked back towards her rubbing your tongue over your teeth before you opened your mouth, “I don’t want to get into this,” you start to stand up.

“Please,” she grabbed your wrist.

You’re shocked at her reaction, your stomach turning again. You ripped your hand away from her grip. You stood for a moment contemplating whether or not you should tell her the truth or make something up. So you decide to ask, “Do you want the TV answer or the truth?”

She shrugged as she gestured towards you, letting you choose. She leaned back once more.

You look at your phone for the time, unfortunately it wasn’t as late as you thought it was so that excuse was out. “Fine,” you didn’t sit back down though. “I hate you because I can’t beat you.”

She chuckled, “You’re serious?”

“…Yes.”

“You’re lying. Now I want the truth, because that was obvio-”

“Please shut up,” you rest your head in your hand. You look back at her as she’s smirking, your heart begins to beat faster, “I- yeah, no I can’t do this right now. We have a plane to catch tomorrow.”

You grab your bag and head for the door. Somehow she beats you to it and closes it, basically pinning you to the door. Your breath hitched and your stomach turned. Only now did you realize that it wasn’t sickness, it was butterflies, dammit.

“I want to know. I want to know what I did wrong so I can fix it. If I hurt you, I’m sorry. I’m tired of fighting off camera, you’re the only person who seems to not like me and I want to know why…please,” she admits.

Your breathing was heavier and you didn’t have much air left. You ducked under her arm and went back to the chair leaning your hands on the back of it. She turns to face you, not getting closer.

“Fuck…Damn it,” you said under your breath, “fine!” you threw your hands up in surrender. You were tired of fighting too, you guessed now would be the time to tell her because obviously you didn’t have to balls to start the conversation. “I’m jealous of you.”

“What?”

“I’m jealous of you! Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“Well…no,” she leaned against the door with her arms crossed.

“Well, I am. You’re so popular, and strong, and your fans absolutely adore you, they’d do anything for you. You get everything you want here and more! It’s ’Monday Night Mami’ for crying out loud,” your face was red and you could feel the tears starting to form but you pushed them back.

She let you continue.

“Even Triple H loves you, the writers love you, everyone loves you. I get jack shit when I walk into the ring. I’ve tried everything to get people to like me, I’m the girly girl who hates you because we’re complete opposites,” a single tear fell down your face, “I’m tired of being compared to the other girls. I don’t know how you do it. So I’m jealous okay, that’s why I… don’t like you.”

She stared at you for a minute before she grabbed a tissue from the box on the counter and handed it to you.

“And you’re too nice,” you added.

“Well that I can vouch for but the rest?” she lifted your chin to wipe the tear away, “I worked my ass off to get here, that’s why people love me I like to believe. Nothing was handed to me though it may seem like it. Like I said earlier, everything I do is for my fans, seriously, if it weren’t for them, I wouldn’t be pushing myself to be better.”

“God this is embarrassing,” you sniff.

“It isn’t, I’m glad you’re telling me,” she rubbed your shoulder.

You gave her a weak smile before brushing off her hand and stepping away from her, “that doesn’t change the fact that I don’t want to change the storyline.”

“Not even for one match?”

“No,” you crumble up the tissue, “being mean to you on camera is too fun,” you giggled.

“Right,” she sighed dramatically, “it would be a shame if we became best friends and won the tag team titles though.”

“Don’t dangle that in front of me,” you point.

“The writers love a redemption arc,” she kept going.

“Stop it,” you begin to smile.

“Or maybe, we could kiss and makeup on camera for our next match instead of fighting?” she swayed towards you.

“W-we could do that,” the butterflies in your stomach were sprinting. Her eyes were filled with hunger, her stance was powerful.

“Or,” you hoped this was her last suggestion, “we could kiss and makeup right here?” she brushed a strand behind your ear.

You backed away, “What?”

“Oh, c’mon, you don’t think the jealousy was a cover up for the crush you have on me? Even subconsciously?” she smirked.

“I do not have a crush on you,” you lied.

“So if I did this,” she cupped your cheek, “You don’t feel anything?”

Your face got hot and heart beat faster than it ever has before, “Nope,” you lie again.

“Well,” she dropped her hand, “That’s a shame. We could’ve been WWE’s It couple,” she sighed.

“D-Do you have a crush on me?” you asked surprised at your realization.

“No, I just wanted to mess with you,” running her hands through her beautiful jet black hair, you watched as her arms muscles tensed and released with every movement, “yes I have a crush on you, idiot.”

You shook yourself from your gaze, “Are you serious?”

“I don’t care if people hate me,” she scoffed, “but I do care if I hurt somebody, so that part was true. I didn’t want you to hate me because I don’t hate you.”

“I’m so confused right now,” you rub your eyes, “what do you mean you have a crush on me?”

“I. Like. You,” she took a step closer to you with every word. “It’s not hard to understand.”

“But I’ve been so mean to you.”

“I like a mean girl every once in a while,” she smirked. She was now standing in front of you looking down into your eyes. You weren’t much shorter than her but enough to where it made your knees weak.

You couldn’t say anything, you were in shock.

She lifted your chin again to make full eye contact with you, “Now, can I kiss you or no?”

You slowly nodded your head.

“You sure?”

You nodded your head more seriously this time.

She cupped your face with both hands and brought her lips to yours. Fireworks went off in your head, you couldn’t believe this was happening. Your lips danced against hers perfectly as your hands brought her waist into yours. Your heads tilting in sync, from one side to the other, you didn’t want to let go.

Sadly, she let go, “so,” she breathed, “my room or yours?”

　 　 　 match made in heaven | e. williams

pairing + wc: ellie williams x masc!reader, wordcount 605!

description: modern ellie dating a masc reader that’s on the same exact level as her, matching outfits and sharing clothes, being extremely protective of one another <3

warnings: none.. just pure love!

a/n: for anon that requested!! this one is kinda short and took me sooo long to actually get out and i literally do not know why but it’s here & abby’s next 🤍

people on campus are always curious as to how you and ellie.. fit. you both are extremely similar, too similar. it’s been questioned before, why ellie didn’t go for someone that contrasts from her.

you both present more masculine, wearing baggy clothes and fingers covered in rings. it was cute, frankly, to ellie. you often matched with one another or shared clothes and jewelry. in public, you both were so protective of one another, people wouldn’t even approach you no matter how nice you both were.

today, you had absolutely NO plans and easily took advantage of it. you were sitting on the couch, sweats and a tank top, hair a bit disheveled. there was ellie, sat right in between your legs in one of your shirts and a pair of boxers.

she’d been watching the screen intently, listening to you mumble and throw insults under your breath at the game. “baby, can you move your head to the side a bit?” you spoke up for the first time this morning. ellie nodded so fast her head could’ve snapped off, shifting to sit more towards your right thigh.

at this you whispered a small ‘thanks’, quickly placing a kiss on the back of her neck. if anyone saw you two like this, they’d probably make fun of ellie. she thinks she’s acting like a baby. clinging to you like you’re about to abandon her, stuck to your side. but you loved it. in fact, you’d do the same to her when she was watching a show she liked.

“y/n, can we go out later?” ellie asked, almost sounding nervous. she knew you probably wanted to relax, yet she felt the urge to want to spoil you, give you something. ellie came off tough, strong, brave, not to be fucked with most of the time. around you? it was the total opposite. she was soft, quiet, sweet.

later that day, you both had gotten ready, again clad in baggy comfortable clothes. being out in public was always a hassle, fighting to be more protective of one another and glaring at every person who looked at you sideways. of course you’d be able to come up with a compromise after hearing each other go ‘last time you…’ and ‘that’s not fair, you…’ over and over.

you went to the movies on request of ellie, laughing and replaying the scenes from before while exiting the theater. you noticed a girl that went to your school, staring at you two, almost as if she wanted to eat you. ellie scowled at her and you dropped a little ‘what’re you lookin at?’ before walking off, arm slung over ellie’s shoulders.

you always had this problem, girls approaching the both of you as if they planned on stealing one or the other and you both shut it down just as fast as it came. it was annoying, being victims of people’s sexual adventures.

at parties, cafe’s, even the library. you’d be met with looks of confusion and sometimes even disgust. you or ellie would tell them to fuck off and continue about your business.

it was perfect, you two were perfect. your relationship worked and you were happy regardless of how people felt. sure, sometimes it’d get to you, and you’d complain about it the whole night and the morning after. but it was okay, you knew nothing and no one could ever break you two apart, so what was the problem?

there wasn’t one. you were content. your relationship easily rid any stereotypes and suspicions about you and ellie. you were quite literally the definition of match made in heaven.

a/n: i hope this one wasn’t too disappointing! thank u sooo much for reading, follows + reblogs are appreciated!! 🐰🤍

Tough Placements that Indicate a Hard Life | 1

Disclaimer: having these placements does not automatically make your life hard, these are common placement patterns dedicated to each SPECIFIC area of life. The Financial and Identity sections are now available in PART 2!

MASTERLIST

These are split into two sections! In part two there will be more sections :) Enjoy.

1. Home life and Emotions.

2. Enemies.

Family Life & Emotionality:

Sun in 8th House: Usually these people have a strained relationship with their dad or the father figure in the family. Often times the dad is powerful and has gained mounts of success and respect, however, the dad usually has moments where he loses himself, can’t remain reliable, is mean towards the family, and is an indicator of a dad who wastes the families income yet they are seen as a hero or alpha by other males due to the sun’s glorious or even famous disposition. However, the 8th house hides the dad’s problems through a heroic image and gives the child trust issues because their dad is nothing like people claim to know. It’s also an indicator of health problems and the death of the father early on in the child's life.

Moon in the 6th House: This one I ignored before until I dug deeper. The effects of the moon here can grant a turbulent daily life full of emotional ups and downs, yet they are trained to hide it just as well as 8th house moons because their mother figures were insanely critical of them and didn’t accept any sign of emotions or expression. I feel bad for those who are neurodivergent and have this placement because the maternal figure probably expected perfection and conformity in how the child acts and thinks. Or else, I've seen these moms act like they don’t even know their kids unless they achieved an outstanding goal. Basically, a lot of internalized pain with this placement, and often you encounter emotionally unstable people in public or have faced a painful animal death in your family. Watch out for health problems and depression as Mercury rules over Virgo/6th house, and the moon combined with mercurial energy tends to suffer a lot with their mental health. 

Moon in Scorpio: A classic hard family life placement. I’ve never met a Scorpio moon who didn’t suffer from family problems, specifically the mother figure. Their mother tried to gaslight, compete, or even withhold these moon signs from their friends or hobbies simply because the mother never viewed these things of worth or would become suspicious of new people. Blackmail is common, and so are some financial issues within the family. You’re probably the detective in your family and have a natural talent to locate hidden items. These people just want to feel accepted by their mom or family no matter how much they rebel or fight it. They crave true family love and stability.

Moon opposite/conjunct Neptune: I’ve met some people and I hate to say this...but delusional rings a bell. They want to believe they are loved by others and that people have the best intentions for them because that answer was often unclear in their home life. So as a result of an incredible amount of manipulation from the family, this person really does think toxic love could be healthy, or that whatever someone labels them as they internalize it and see themselves as a reflection of what others want. There could’ve been an issue of substance abuse within the family, or just indulgence in anything. Toxic religious views or purity culture may have been forced onto you as Neptune is associated with the higher realm and religion. They do love to connect with others but usually miss the red flags. Don’t get caught up in gossip or labels because you have a tendency to agree with most irrational reasonings as moon - neptune people can empathize with all sides of a situation. Please take time to accept yourself first before seeking it out in groups.

Moon conjunct/square Pluto: Power struggles in the family are very common with this aspect, I’ve also met some people who are very explosive. I’d say they have such intense emotions overwhelming them to the point where they actually can’t even hide them. They also similar to a Scorpio moon spend a great deal of their time trying to be accepted by the mom or family but end up feeling resentment and jealousy. The difference is I repeatedly see the same pattern with this aspect and not even having a physical or emotional home. It’s destroyed literally or figuratively, they crave an actual home the most and are prone to always moving and never having a stable home life. They are paranoid about any intruder or loss in the home, and their birth was very intense that may have almost resulted in the mother dying too. To end this, I know most people think this aspect hides their emotions but I’ve seen the opposite with the conjunction and square as if they just explode and go ice cold periodically. 

Pluto in the 2nd/4th House: Pluto in the 2nd accounts for broken confidence and never feeling good enough, a fear of failure and loss overcomes them and usually they were withheld physical possessions they found important for their mental health as a child like a teddy bear to sleep. People try to target their valuables and money, often being the center of scandals because they want to ruin this individual’s worth on every level. Jealousy runs high as it’s associated with venus and gifted resources. Pluto in 4th could honestly manifest as literal homelessness or an extremely powerful yet deceitful family. It reminds me of the royal family where they have this image of being perfect and elegant but on the inside, there’s tremendous amounts of backstabbing, lies, and very strict training or parenting. Usually, it’s always held together or torn apart by money and public affairs too interestingly.

Saturn in the 4th House: Strict parents, a very pushy family who always tried to control what you do and never let you have much freedom to figure out what YOU really want to do with your life. Parents are overprotective and hover over the child nonstop. You’re sheltered but also harshly taught and expected to perform without fail. You really do crave that emotional freedom to just laugh, be stupid, and have fun in your childhood. But, that was usually restricted as Saturn is cold and restrictive in nature. There could’ve been the death of the dad within the family or a very karmic lesson centered around the dad they must learn for the family’s benefit. 

Lilith in 4th House: It’s giving evil stepmom vibes I’m sorry. The mother could’ve sought to make your family hate you and spread lies, or even separate you from the family entirely. There’s a big theme of jealousy, resentment, and rumours with this. Expect to be the center of family gossip and feel betrayed by mother figures. Good luck bbys...

Lilith in the 8th House: Similar to the 4th house alternatively, but also entirely different. Basically, Lilith here brings some sort of dark feminine trauma into your life. I’ve known people whose moms always humiliated them, were too open or restrictive about intimacy and sex, or even shamed the child for their family members’ death. it’s just so much dark energy present in the individual’s life that made them want to hide and feel ashamed of themselves when everything is out of their control and they’re usually innocent. It’s powerful but way too much to handle for the individual.

Enemies:

Pluto in the 6th House: This is extremely difficult as your health might fail you sometimes. You are prone to getting sick more than the rest and your daily life is filled with unfortunate events or random enemies popping up when you’re just minding your business sheesh. Sometimes you don’t trust healthcare or have negative experiences with hospitals because they could’ve messed up before. Sticking to a daily routine is hard because you are forced to constantly restructure yourself and your life as nothing can really manage or predict the things you go through. I have Pluto transiting my 6th house right now and lemme tell you it’s a bitch. Lowkey you witness random shady events that occur in public too, I call this the undercover cop placement.

Pluto in the 10th House: It holds a lot of power but you always face people trying to tear you down out of spite because of your success. This is a very influential placement that exposes you to the public and your reputation is polarizing due to rumours spread and power dynamics in your relationship with your public image and career. Usually, these rumours are wrong too, and people purposely target you because they see your influence and innovative ways as a threat. You want to hide from the public but you just can’t. You have a wide audience of people watching you and sometimes it feels like you never get a break. At the end of the day, no matter how much you’re torn down I always see this placement make it big with whatever they choose to do.

Uranus in the 8th House: Spiritual hauntings or predictive dreams are common here. You could have spirits in your home that are loud and like to cause a ruckus just to scare you. There’s also a sensitivity to energies and people can sense this. People seek to expose your secrets online or you randomly find yourself going viral for something horribly embarrassing lol. Either way, this placement gets their secrets, identity, and income leaked online at some point due to enemies that randomly dislike you out of the blue. Honestly, you may not feel safe talking to people about anything because you always feel judged and critiqued for your own inquisitive thoughts or creative ideas. People don’t want to see you sparkle and stand out so they try to make you seem weird.  

Neptune in the 10th House: People don’t really know who you are, they project their insecurities onto you and make it seem like you’re an awful or godsent person. Often time and time again your words are taken heavily out of context and twisted into phrases that don’t reflect who you are. It can feel impossible to connect with people or simply just speak up about anything due to this twisted nature that is present in your workspace dynamic. I see superiors trying to take advantage of your work and claiming it as their own so be careful and self-preserve your creations a bit. You don’t have to constantly help people to the point of your downfall.

Saturn in the 1st House: Lessons are taught in self-expression and structuring your identity. Through these lessons, people can treat you harsher than usual and look down on you. There’s often either an intimidated or condescending tone in people’s voices when they interact with you. Usually, these people are quite lonely for some time as others don’t readily accept them and view them as mean when they’re very nice people. Because the 1st house deals with how we perceive the world, you experience it through a lonely and hurt lens. It’s important to know once you prove your enemies wrong you cannot look down on others as Saturn brings karma here.

8th House ruler in the 6th House: the amount of crazy shit that goes on is undeniable. It’s a bit like Pluto in the 6th house except all the aspects of your 8th house are placed into your daily life. You could very well encounter dangerous people, face weird circumstances, or even work in the occult somehow. Look at the sign in your 8th house and that often encompasses your experiences.

Chiron/Pluto in the 11th House: friends and the internet become your wounded healer. You probably felt like the third wheel in a lot of friendships and most of them talked behind your back. I can definitely see this placement wanting to isolate themselves but hurting from the loneliness. Your ideas were never taken seriously no matter the work and originality you put in but once someone else does it, suddenly it’s accepted and normalized.

Lilith in the 7th House: Whenever you crush on someone or commit to a romantic relationship there’s ALWAYS a third party that is jealous of you and wants to destroy your relationship. Or, the person you’re involved with hides secrets from you and tears down your confidence. Usually, feminine individuals are your enemies as Lilith is in a venus-ruled house. Rumours are frequent here too as this is the house of rumours and open enemies. Lilith rules over what you are and not what you are seen as unless it is aspecting the ascendant, so this combination creates a persona of underlying mischief or intentions other people see in you as a threat even if you’re just a baddie going through their day.

👫+ monoma & kiri / kaiba & marik / ishizu

this has to be under a cut i got out of hand

ISHIZU & KAIBA

i think the moment she met him she went into older sister mode. not out of like, a need to baby him or whatever its actually the opposite he is so machiavellian and uppity and willing to escalate a situation that she was just like right yeah this is exactly how marik is. hes at that age, where boys like to blow up buildings in death matches.

for the aforementioned reason i think thats also why he gets to see a slightly more impish side to her she doesnt really share often. the banter is dry and fast she has said "skill issue" to him at least once and she absolutely does stunt on him whenever she manages to even slightly best him in anything. shes rambling about predynastic art and taking forever to get to her point on purpose. and when i think he and her are an absolute menace to joey like his va and her va did a duel once in character and she was murdering him verbally. at one point they were talking about the north american tournament and joey was like "yeah they wouldnt let me enter cuz my decks got banned cards in it" and shes like "joey if you entered even with your current deck you wouldnt win" and he was like "what? why do you say that? did your necklace tell you that?" and she said "no, I just used common sense." . i could feel her and kaiba high fiving on that one i saw it so clearly

also i really like how in battle city we see that like, especially after their duel and as the marik v yugi fight looms ever closer that she and kaiba genuinely talk strategy on the side. she and him are standing on opposite sides of the ring than yugis gang, like, given her whole thing you think shed be kicking it with them but now she and kaiba are gossiping and speculating and i think that shows that he genuinely respects her skill as a duelist even if he thought the fate stuff was bullshit. he knows her meta game was crazy real recognizes real.

theyre gonna have a really, really long talk after dsod.

MARIK & KAIBA

as above i think the two of them are very similar and i think that pisses them both off. they absolutely refuse to acknowledge it like if you said that theyd snort with derision and be like im nothing like him [insert snide remark here] but thats exactly what i mean. for that reason you cannot just leave them to their own devices together its going to get ugly, or if they have a mutual enemy, felonious. both of them designed Saw Games for yugi.

that being said i do think they should be on a podcast together to talk about like, duel monsters news and commentate on tournaments and stuff like the one-liners would be VICIOUSSSSSSSS . it would be like a frenemies situation i think.

he still feels. REALLY bad about the whole "maiming if not murdering" some of the medical staff on the battle city blimp and he has like, no idea how to broach that topic like if he should send a gift basket or apology text or what so like, hes pretty awkward around kaiba at least at first and is kinda just waiting for the day he brings it up. u said kaibas keeping that as an iou in his back pocket and i agree.

i think the ishtars sometimes hang out with (babysit) mokuba and whenever ishizu and rishid wont let him do something he goes to marik because marik 100% enables younger brother behavior . hes taken him on motorcycle rides. he probably showed him how to forge papers at some point. its really educational

MONOMA & KIRISHIMA

so like. ok hear me out. im about to grab manga panels you know this shit is about to be so for real serious. so like i talk a lot about the team up mission chapter where class a is nice to monoma and he freaks it but id like to bring up that kirishima is one of the main three actors of this plan, esp during the phase where they're trying to gather info on what monomas "secret message" is. deku asks monoma how hes feeling, and monomas like....im not fucking telling you that. so,

(condensed version for time and space). but the important part here is that while deku and Iida fail to engage Monoma in normal conversation because Monoma doesn't have normal conversations with Class A, when Kirishima is like "dude just fucking punch me" Monoma is vaguely confused but goes all in, despite the fact that fist fighting Kirishima is probably more of an immediate threat to his health and safety than talking about his feelings.

so what I'm getting at here is that like, I think Kirishima is fundamentally more capable of communicating with Monoma than maybe other members of Class A not despite the sourness between them but because of it. While Kirishima is kind enough at his core to do this because they think Monoma's in danger (and because they think figuring it out will make him...stop. the things he does.), he also has picked up on the fact that communication with Monoma, even well-meaning, has to be delivered in an antagonistic manner, because he has already done the back-and-forth bickering with Monoma that makes his world go round, unlike Iida and Midoriya.

So I think even though they dislike each other, ironically, Kirishima's better at getting a read on him than a lot of other people.

um. I'm just gonna keep going till it loosely approximates four ideas im in too deep. anyways. It's also important to remember that the remedial classes in the forest training camp were fucking LONG. They were four hours a night. That is.a LOT of acute Monoma exposure for the Class A flunkies late into the evening and we know from the light novels that during that time, he was getting up to mischief and frequently taking "restroom breaks" in which he went and cheated in games on behalf of his classmates who did not know he was doing this. but again anyway the point is that kirishima was. very early on introduced to and spent extended periods with monoma's particular brand of crazy and this would only be even more relevant if hes friends with tetsutetsu, who monoma is also fairly close with. i think thats kinda why we see a willingness for kirishima to get up in his personal space more:

which like, watch out kirishima you may be roped into the monoma handler crew. but like i think a lot about that and like, how kirishima actually tries to explain it to monoma even though as someone who has acute monoma toxicity poisoning he knows this is a very futile effort because kirishima is someone who, actively, is trying to be the manly guy he idolizes, but god, this motherfucker does make it really hard sometimes. most of the time. every time. he is trying to give him the benefit of the doubt because maybe one day it will be different but he does not have his hopes up and he does not know what is wrong with this dude.

which leads me into the next thing i think, sort of along the same lines as bakugou although not as much, monoma does both envy and admire kirishima for being one of the "strong". naturally he'd rather chew his own hands off than say it, but i also dont think he's picked up on the fact that kirishima is the way he is in a very deliberate manner, like that, he worked to be the person he is today and continues to do so. i think if he did know, monoma would respect him a lot more, because he really admires that kind of self-determination and deeply wishes he, too, could form that strong of a personal identity. again, he probably really wouldnt.... express it that well? like i think maybe monoma admiring your strong traits more is kind of a fast track to him being even more annoying because he is truly instinctively a little hater . but he doesnt actually dislike kirishima for any personal reason, like, he has no qualms with kirishima as a person-- he himself is good friends with tetsutetsu. it's solely the class a thing, and the fact that monoma cant really detangle those feelings of jealousy and admiration. he doesnt really care what kirishima thinks of him, but he does make more of an effort when he engages in his antagonism with kirishima, because hes feeling like "look, i want to stand on ground with you as an equal, i see you as strong enough to be worth putting the energy into this rivalry, youre so cool that i feel like im strong if i can keep up with you" except even he doesnt know this is what hes thinking and nobody really wants this. but i dont think he could even really bring himself to HATE hate kirishima or even match his pure dislike as an individual because monoma has no reason to. hes just an awful little man.

also monoma pesters him a lot because he really really likes his quirk. you should be honored kirishima , really. its really fun to him. naturally he does use it for mischief but even non mischief reasons he just thinks its neattttt hes probably got him some deku-style notes about it. its also probably why monoma would tag along on any training tetsutetsu invites him to do with kirishima around bc otherwise he would be like . why would i want to be sweaty and around those despicable clowns when i dont even have to be. <- knows he has no chance of winning a sparring match and is not even going to try

Jassie Headcanon Time!!

-Jassie is a woman who prides herself in boxing. Even when she was a young lass, boxing was her number-one dream and priority. And although she achieved some of that dream by participating in show fights for conventions and expos, she couldn't help but want something more. Just a way to establish her legacy in the real boxing world.

-And what better way to do that than to sign up for a WVBA career?! Call her crazy, but Jassie was sure that the only way to properly establish her legacy was to take on the biggest, baddest boys in the ring. And after a few signatures and a lot of convincing, she finally set up her first official fight!

-Extra facts about Jassie include that she skateboards as a side hobby and often hangs out in social areas like pubs and cafes. She likes her coffee with lots of sugar and a cinnamon roll on the side. She's also rather adorable to a fault, involuntarily putting on cute faces and pitching up her voice upon excitement.

Here comes a bunch of OC x Character headcanons. I will be putting these below for the sake of your scrolling experience:

-Jassie currently sits as the Minor Circuit champion and Rank #1 in the Major Circuit. You'd think someone as boastful and reckless as her wouldn't give a hoot about her opponents, but she actually experiences quite the opposite. After each of her fights, she comes to her opponents personally to learn from them and perhaps even befriend them.

-For example, her current best friend is Disco Kid, whom she quickly befriended due to her liking for his upbeat energy. During their frequent hangouts, Disco Kid often spills on the latest gossip in the ring and gives her tips on her future opponents. He also gives her dance lessons and exercises with her!

-Jassie also enjoys having coffee with Glass Joe, offering her own insights on boxing and strength to him as she could see he really needs them. Meanwhile, she personally goes to Piston Hondo to learn how he stays so calm and focused during his fights, which he is happy to teach.

-So you're probably wondering why Jassie is only Rank #1 instead of the title holder of the Major Circuit. Well, long story short, Don Flamenco gave her a lot of different difficulties and she ended up losing by decision. She still has yet to challenge him to a rematch, but she's holding off on it for now as y'know... They're dating. (I'll write up their whole thing another time).

-In the meantime, Jassie has kept her focus on training and maintaining her rank. She still frequents bars and such and even met the infamous Aran Ryan at a local pub. Those two got along quite quickly due to their similar attitudes, so they began to regularly hang out and do whatever they felt like doing that day.

When the Chips are Down

part 25

masterlist

“Do you remember this?” Iyla asked, holding up a picture of Jackson sitting on the opposite side of the sofa from Chester. “It was the first time they met.” 

“They hated each other.” Y/N snorted, a small smile lifting the corner of her lips at the memory. “Chez hates everybody.” she waved it off, picking up a different picture taken moments later where Jackson was a blur as he escaped Chester who had decided the entirety of the sofa was his.

“These are from the apartment?” Y/N nodded, looking at a picture of herself, Iyla, and Jackson tucked away within the pages of an album. Iyla had always had a knack for photography and had used it to save many of their happier memories. “It’s really creepy he went through your stuff.” 

“Yep.” 

“But at least you have it. There’s some remnant of home now.” Iyla shrugged. “So it’s sweet in a psychotic stalker kinda way.” 

“Oh yes, what I always wanted, a psychotic stalker for a husband. Joy of all joys.” she rolled her eyes, turning the page. “But don’t worry, you’ll have one of your own soon enough.” 

They’d had a fitting for her wedding dress earlier that day.

“Well you didn’t have to share your bad luck you know.” 

“Sharing is caring.” 

“Says you.”

“Says everybody.” 

“He even brought mom’s ring?” 

Y/N nodded over to the tiny sage green box that contained the piece of jewelry. “I could never pawn it no matter how bad off we were. It was the last thing we had of hers. She loved that ring.” 

“She would have loved it more if we weren’t married to psychopaths.” 

“True.” 

The two couldn’t help but giggle despite the morbid nature of their reality. It was a quality they’d always managed to keep a hold of even when their circumstances were less than ideal, a morbid sense of humor. 

“You’re getting married in three weeks.” 

Iyla groaned, flopping back and sprawling across the floor next to the blanket where Nara was happily staring up at the ceiling chewing on her hand. “Don’t remind me. I swear to God I’m going to stab the bastard in his sleep.” 

“Do it. Stab mine while you’re at it.” 

“Who are we stabbing?” Namjoon asked from the door having walked into a conversation he most certainly wasn’t welcome in. 

“You.” Both sisters responded, faces completely blank and voices monotone without even looking at him. 

“Still?” He arched a brow, repressing a smile. They’d both been threatening to stab him for quite some time now. “I’ll have to sleep with one eye open.” 

Iyla narrowed her eyes in a glare that wasn’t as intimidating as she would have liked it to be given her position sprawled across the floor. 

“You’re not welcome.” 

“I never am.” he shrugged, walking further into the room to see what they were doing. “Finally going through the box?”

Now it was Y/N’s turn to glare at him. She still hadn’t forgiven him for the violation to her privacy by raiding her home. There were a lot of things that she could hold against him, but this was the latest in that long list, and it was adding fuel to a fire he desperately wished would finally sputter out and die. He was sick of fighting for every inch of ground he gained with her. 

“Creepy stalker asshole.” Iyla murmured under her breath as she sat up again, swiftly gathering up photo albums and placing that back in the box away from his prying eyes despite the fact that he’d probably already looked through them. It was the principle of the thing though. 

“A pleasure as always, Iyla.” 

“The feeling isn’t mutual.” she sniffed primly. The icy expression didn’t last long as Nara decided to take that moment to start babbling at her aunt demanding attention. “Well hello there little miss.” she cooed leaning over with a bright smile. “How did someone so vile make someone so cute huh? You got everything from your mommy.” 

“Hoseok will be here for you soon. Did the fitting go well?” Namjoon asked, deciding to ignore the insults in favor of attempting to be a good brother in law. A feud with her sister would earn him no points with his wife. 

“Oh yes. I enjoy being poked and prodded and squeezed into a dress that I’ll be marrying my kidnapper in. It was a joy.” 

“Glad to hear it!” Hoseok clapped his hands together with a cheerful expression as he entered the room. “I’m sure you look beautiful, sunshine.” 

She scoffed in disgust, turning away from him and picking up the baby for a quick cuddle. She didn’t get to see Nara and Y/N nearly as much as she would have liked to. But if she’d had her way none of them would have been in this situation to begin with, and Nara would have had a completely different father. 

“And how is my darling niece?” Hoseok cooed, folding himself to sit on the floor next to Iyla and the baby who was now happily chewing on her aunt’s shoulder instead of her hand and grasping onto Hoseok’s proffered finger as he smiled at her. 

“She’s good. Fascinated by her hands.” Y/N replied as Iyla steadfastly ignored him. “They’re her favorite toy.” 

“Her favorite toy?” he asked, his voice exaggeratedly excited. “Even with all those toys Appa bought you?” He pulled a silly face at her, gaining a smile in return. “Silly girl.” 

Namjoon sat down on the floor next to Y/N, joining the little group. “She’s stubborn like that, just like her mother.” He reached over to smooth down the little bits of duck fluff that was her hair, and she blinked at him owlishly and then released a loud little squawk like sound. 

“She’s getting tired.” Y/N explained as Hoseok sent her a look that was half confused and half panicked. “It’s probably time for a nap.” 

“Which means it’s time for us to get home.” 

Neither man missed the way the girls tensed or the distaste that flashed across both of their faces, but neither of them put up a fuss. They’d learned weeks ago that making a fuss when it was time to be separated didn’t get them anywhere. It was a lesson that Iyla had taken longer to learn than her sister who knew their dispositions and limits better than she did. 

After one last quick snuggle, Iyla handed the baby back to Y/N and got up to leave. 

Y/N and Namjoon stood up as well, Namjoon helping Y/N up as she had the baby tucked against her chest. 

The sister’s shared a brief hug, Y/N reminding Iyla to stab Hoseok when she had a chance, and then she had to go, leaving Namjoon and Y/N alone.

“Did you have a good day?” He asked, wrapping his arms around her waist ignoring the way she tensed in his arms. One step forward, two steps back. That was how their relationship progressed, and currently they were in the two steps back portion of the process. 

“I should put Nara down for a nap.” 

She stepped out of his arms and drifted out of the room leaving an exasperated Namjoon behind her. It had been three weeks of this. She was being as stubborn as she could be over something he had meant as a present, and clearly she was enjoying his gift. It was the fact that he had been the one to give it to her that was causing the problem, and it was a constant source of annoyance for him. 

He knew she was tired. He could practically feel her resolve beginning to weaken, but she was stubborn. He both loved and hated that about her, and this was a battle he’d been fighting since the night he’d met her. He was a patient man, but even he had limits, and he was slowly beginning to reach them. No one could get under his skin like she could. 

He gave her about ten minutes before he followed her up to the nursery. A quick peek at the app on his phone that connected to the baby monitor told him that she’d already gotten Nara into her sleep sack and was walking back and forth in front of the crib as she rocked the baby. She’d been working on getting their daughter to sleep on her own though it still took some rocking and lullabies to get her to sleep. 

Quietly, he slipped into the nursery, watching from just beyond the door as she settled their daughter. 

He’d always known she’d be a wonderful mother, but it still sent a bolt of pride and warmth through him to see her with their child. She was a natural, and he shouldn’t have been surprised by that. She’d spent years of her life looking after her younger sister. She’d been Iyla’s caretaker ever since her parent’s had died in that car crash. 

He loved watching her put Nara down though. He’d never heard Y/N sing before Nara was born. He knew her favorite books. He’d listened to her play piano. He’d seen the product of her endeavors in knitting and crochet something else he hadn’t known she could do before their daughter, but he’d never heard her sing. 

It wasn’t the best voice in the world. She would never be famous for her voice, but to him it was one of the most beautiful sounds in the world. She had a voice best suited for lullabies and showtunes, classical music as well. It was reasonably high with a fair deal of vibrato, but Nara seemed to love it as much as he did. 

He knew she knew he was there, but neither of them said anything as she placed Nara into her crib gingerly, careful not to wake up the baby. And neither of them said a word until they had left the nursery, softly closing the door behind them. 

Namjoon quickly sent a message to Rose letting her know that she was in charge of watching the baby as he and Y/N would be busy. They needed to talk. He’d let her get away with her frosty silence and clipped remarks for too long. It was time for a step forward again even if he had to drag her forward kicking and screaming. 

“Jagiya.” 

“What, Namjoon?” she sighed, glancing over her shoulder at him as she paused in the door to their room. 

“We can’t go on like this, jagiya.” he released a sigh of his own. “I know you’re upset with me.” 

“Do you?” she asked, walking forward, away from him. “And here I thought I was being subtle. “It wasn’t meant to upset you, jagi.” he began again, following after her and grabbing her wrist to keep her from walking away again. “It was meant as a gift.” 

“You went through my life and strategically decided what was good enough to bring back here. I think I’m allowed to feel a little violated.” 

“You were gone.” his voice was low, controlled as he kept his annoyance in check as he explained his reasoning to her. “You were gone, and I was going out of my mind looking for you.” she stared at him, eyes slightly narrowed, but she was interrupting him which he chose to take as a good sign. “I thought there was a slight chance you would have gone home, at least for a moment, but you didn’t. You weren’t there so I brought a piece of you back. I brought you things to make this feel more like your home too.” 

“This isn’t my home, Namjoon.” her voice was soft and weary. “This is a prison  of your making.” 

“This is your home. This is our home.” he pulled her closer, gently cupping her cheeks as he stared into her eyes. “I have built all of this for you.” 

“I don’t want it!” she brushed his hands away exasperated, her brows knitted together.

“Then what do you want?” he asked, his voice slightly raised conveying his own frustration. They both stood there staring at each other, letting his question sink in. “What do you want, jagi?” he asked again, his tone softer now. “What will make you happy here?” 

She looked away, shaking her head with a sigh, deflating before his eyes. “I’m tired, Namjoon. I’m so tired.”

“I know.” he reached out, drawing her into his chest, cradling her head there. “I know, jagi. You don’t have to keep fighting. We could be so happy, jagiya.” 

“I wish I’d never come here.” 

He pulled back slightly, lifting her chin so that she was looking at him. “I love you, jagiya, but I’m a selfish man. I’ll never let you go.” 

“You’re a bastard.” 

“Probably.” he agreed, letting her head drop back to his chest again. “You don’t have to keep fighting, jagi. Let go. Let me take care of you.” 

“You can’t just steal people.” there was a tremor in her voice he wasn’t used to hearing, and it was as heart wrenching as it was thrilling. He didn’t want her to be upset. He didn’t want her broken, but he needed her to give in. He needed it more than he needed to breathe. “You can’t just steal them and bend them to your whims.” 

“But I stole you, and I’ll never regret that. I won’t apologize for it. You and Nara are the best things in my life. Isn’t Nara worth it?” he tipped her chin up again, pressing a gentle kiss to her lips. “Isn’t she worth everything?” 

That little furrow was between her brows again. It was adorable. “Don’t.” her voice cracked. “Don’t use her as an argument.” 

“We made a perfect being, jagiya. Imagine the life we could have.” he purred, kissing the furrow between her brows. “We could be so happy. You don’t have to fight me, jagi. Just let me love you.” 

A small sob escaped her, and Namjoon pulled her into closer as she began to cry, shaking in his arms. 

“That’s it, jagiya.” he cooed, rubbing a hand up and down her back. “Let it all go.” 

part 26

She's A Bird! She's A Plane! She's...Spiderwoman?

Justice League x Reader One-Shot

Word Count: 3.3K Warnings: Explicit Language

Author's Note: IDK where this came from but I was watching ITSV, so...there's that. Enjoy! -Thorne

**********************************************************************

“This is your fault,” Barry griped, hacking away at the glowing fauna with the makeshift machete—in reality it was just a really big stick that had a really sharp rock tied to the end. “I told you our trajectory was off and what did you do? You said, ‘I’m Hal Jordan, the greatest pilot in the world. Watch my big head crash us on an alien planet where our central battery gets displaced during the impromptu crash land and thrown miles from our position’.”

“Do you want some cheese with all that whine, Bar?” Hal asked, an unimpressed scowl on his face as he illuminated their footpath. “It’s not my fault the orbital windspeeds were faster than the sensors picked up on. Blame the tech, not me.”

“That sounds like you’re just trying to pass off the blame,” he shot back, swiping down at another vine that wriggled like a dying snake and spat out fluorescent blue liquid on the broken end. “Y’know? Like you do best?”

“Seriously, find a better thing to do than complain, Flash. We’ve got bigger fish to fry than blaming each other.”

“Each other? I didn’t do anything! This was all you!” Barry spun on Hal and glared at him.

They glowered at each other when a clicking sound echoed above them and they both jumped a foot in the air, spinning back-to-back as they looked around in every direction, up and down and side to side.

“What the hell was that?” Hal worried.

“I don’t know,” Barry replied, just as concerned. “It sounded like clacking.”

“That did not sound like a chicken.”

“Clacking, Hal, not clucking.”

“Same thing,” he retorted, lifting his arm in the air, shining a bright green light amongst the glowing red treetops. A bunch of branches, neon red leaves and purple flowers, a darting limb—a darting limb?

Hal shifted the light back, jolting Barry’s shoulder in the process. “What is it?”

“There’s something above us,” he whispered, watching with cautious eyes as something shifted on the main branch of the tree, the outline of a dark head coming out, just enough to catch the edge of their bright gold eye. “It’s watching us.”

The something shifted back into cover, the clacking sounding once more, then the treetop ruffled, dropping red and purple fauna on the two men as it jumped to another tree. Hal tried to follow it, but it was too fast for his eyes; the only thing it left behind though was a string of long white webbing, hanging down from the blue tree branch. And Hal being the idiot he was, decided to touch it to see if he could figure out what it was, and only managed to get it all over his hands.

He pouted, trying to pull apart his hands. “It’s sticky.”

Barry let out a long and heavy sigh, placing one hand at the small of his best friend’s back, the other holding the machete. “Come on, dumb-dumb. Let’s go find that thing again.”

“Isn’t that the opposite of how the survivors live? I know we’re white, but I didn’t think we were that white.” He was half tempted to see if he could gnaw the webbing with his teeth. “This shit isn’t coming off.”

“Here,” Barry said, vibrating his hand as fast as he could and to Hal’s surprise, the webbing cut, falling to the ground.

“Thanks!” he chirped, holding his arm out again to shine his ring. “What do you think that thing was?”

“Alien lifeform.”

“No shit, Sherlock. What gave it away? The alien world?”

“I’ve just about had it with you,” Barry growled, cutting through another rough patch of vines. As the path cleared, they stepped out of the heavily forested area to see one older tree in the center of the circle. It rested atop what looked like an ancient cave, the rocks crumbling around the front.

“I’m not going in there,” Hal immediately stated. “You couldn’t pay me all the money the US owes in debt to go in there. Fuck that.”

“You’re such a big baby,” Barry chuckled, walking up to the entrance; it was about the twelve feet high and ten feet wide, big enough for the two of them to walk in. “Come on. It went in here.”

“Barry, please! Why aren’t you more worried about this?” Hal begged. “You should be more worried!”

“Hal, if it wanted to hurt us, it would’ve done so already.”

“Or maybe it’s luring us to our deaths!” he countered, even though he was following Barry into the cave.

There was more webbing along the walls of the cave, swirling around patterns of purple and blue. The farther they walked the stickier it got, and at one point, they were struggling to lift their feet off the cave floor to take the next step.

“Christ, what is this stuff?” Hal asked and Barry bent down, poking at the webbing.

“It’s like spider webbing, but stickier and stronger.” He vibrated his hand to dislodge it from the strings, then did it around Hal’s feet. “You might wanna float for now. I’ll vibrate my feet to keep from sticking.”

“Good idea,” Hal agreed, lifting a few inches off the ground. “Do you think the lifeform is intelligent?”

“Intelligent us or just intelligent?”

“Intelligent us.”

“Anything’s possible. It seemed sentient so I believe it’s probably intelligent.”

“What do you define as intelligent, Barry?” Hal questioned and the forensic scientist hummed.

“If it’s capable of calculus it’s intelligent.”

“Really? If it can do math homework you think it’s worthy?”

“Calculus is a difficult skill. You need the ability to think and to calculate in order to solve and understand it. That requires sentience and intellige—oh shit!” Barry’s words tipped into a yelp as the ground gave way beneath him and he sunk down, shouting all the way.

Hal’s eyes shot wide, and he flew down the hole. “Barry!” he yelled. “Barry where are—oof!” he collided with more of the webbing, this time enough that the entire left side of his body was stuck to it.

“Hal! You okay!”

He looked over, seeing Barry stuck on his back. “I’m okay? You!”

Barry nodded. “I’ve been better. What is this?” they looked around the best they could. Spiral upon spiral of iridescent webbings surrounded them, stuck to the walls for support, them in the center.

Hal’s eyes narrowed and he glowered at Barry. “I fucking told you it was luring us here.”

“Shut u—”

The clacking sounded above them and with panic, they both turned their eyes to the ceiling, watching as the alien lowered down near them. It looked like a human, two arms and two legs, no extra limbs at all. Hell, it didn’t even look like an alien spider; it just looked like a normal human, gazing down at them with two normal eyes. That was until it opened all six of its golden eyes and stared down at them with it’s mouth open, two one-inch fangs protruding from where the canines were.

“Ohshitohshitohshit,” Hal whispered, about to shit himself in terror.

The alien reached for Barry, and he watched as his friend sunk back into the webbing from the outstretched hand. Except he couldn’t go any farther and turned his head to the side, quietly whimpering as the long black claws touched his cheek.

“Barry!” Hal hissed and blue eyes met his, then,

“Friends!” the alien shouted. “New friends for Rhiezheveir to have!”

Their expressions pinched in confusion as the being started to twirl in the air, one hand holding to the webbing they’d lowered down on, the other elegantly flowing in the air.

“You can understand us?” Barry wondered and they looked down.

“Yes!” leaning down, they got in his face, and he saw the rather feminine looking features. “Rhiezheveir saw the ship come in the sky and land! I waited until you left it to search! The ship’s memory functions in this language!” she seemed rather excited. “Rhiezheveir found the core you were looking for! I did not know how to get you here to return it!”

She climbed up the webbing, disappearing quickly only to reappear with the ship’s core under her free arm. “Here it is! Rhiezheveir brought it back!”

“Why do you keep saying that?” Hal inquired and she lowered down next to his face, hers right in front of his.

“Saying what?”

“Rhieza-something-reservoir?”

“Rhiezheveir?” she offered, and he nodded.

“Yeah, that.”

“Rhiezheveir is my name! I am named after the brightest star in the Kosialaran sky!”

“In the what sky?” Barry asked.

“Kosialaran!” she answered. “This planet’s name! My planet!”

“Are there more of you?” Hal questioned. “You’re the only intelligent life we’ve seen besides bloodthirsty beats trying to eat us.”

“Yes, I saw you fight with the Erqurcus. They are not nice lizards. They like to bite Rhiezheveir when she tries to feed them.”

“Why do you refer to yourself in the third person?” Barry piped up. “Sometimes you use first too.”

“In Aissaveed culture, we commonly refer to ourselves in the third, though I learned from watching, that humans use first. Rhiezheveir is learning to mix them.” She smiled and the clacking sounded again.

Hal tried to look at her. “What is that noise?”

Bending down to his face again, she flashed her fangs. “They click when I get excited!”

Barry cleared his throat. “Um, Rhiezheveir, are there more of your kind in the area?”

“Not here. On the other side of the planet there is. Rhiezheveir has travelled far to get away from her people’s hunters. They do not like me.”

“How come?”

“Rhiezheveir broke tradition. Refused to be royal consort. Fled and hid here.” She let the tips of her toes touch the delicate silk webbing and then crouched, the web bouncing lightly with the weight. “Rhiezheveir is not welcome amongst her people anymore. I am alone now.”

“I’m sorry that happened to you,” Barry murmured, even empathetical of the alien. “You’re here all alone?”

“Yes! Though not anymore!” she patted both Hal and Barry’s thighs. “New friends!”

Hal wiggled. “I hate to break it to you, Reservoir, but—”

“Rhiezheveir,” she corrected, and he sighed.

“Rhiezheveir. But we have to get back to our own planet. We have responsibilities.”

Barry nodded. “We need to get back to our ship.” he tugged against the webbing. “Can you help us get out of this? We’re stuck.”

“Of course!” she chirped, starting to snip the webbing with her claws.

“Wait a second!” Hal exclaimed. “There’s nothing underneath meAHHHHH!” the last thread snapped, and Hal tumbled down the dark and dimly lit cavern.

“Rhiezheveir!” Barry yelled. “What are you doing!”

She held up a finger in a wait motion, then a wet plop sounded, followed by, “NEVERMIND! I’M OKAY! THIS WATER SMELLS FUNNY THOUGH!”

The Speedster sighed. “Oh, there’s water down there.”

She looked at Barry oddly. “Rhiezheveir would not try to kill her new friends. That is not nice.” Snipping the lines around him, she held on as he fell and she let out a squeal as they dropped, though as Barry hit the water, she merely held on to the web in her hand, just above the body.

Barry broke the water and spit out the remaining in his mouth. “Water tastes funny too.”

Hal rolled his eyes. “Rhiezheveir, how do we get out of here?”

She smiled. “Follow me!” she shot out her free hand and another string of webbing left her hand, attaching to the roof of the cavern; letting go with her other hand, she swung like a monkey on a vine, then repeated the process, alternating her hands. And boy she was fast. Barry and Hal had to freehand like they were in the Olympics to keep up, and even then, it wasn’t fast enough.

***

By the time they made it back to the ship, their hair and clothes had dried off. They noticed that she didn’t like to be on the ground and crawled along the tree limbs above them. Bioluminescent flower petals shook from the branches every time she moved, creating an aura of beautiful red and purple around them.

Barry took the battery from her and slot it back into place, watching as they ship powered back to life; he walked over to Hal who was sitting in the first seat. “Everything good?”

Hal nodded. “A few nicks here and there, but the engine and all other vital systems are good.” He looked up. “We should be good to go once the power levels reach operational.”

The Speedster smiled and turned to her. “Well, Rhiezheveir, this is goodbye.”

She merely blinked. “What do you mean goodbye? I am coming with you.”

“There’s not enough room,” Hal said, and she smiled, those fangs clacking as she raised her arms.

“I will make myself small!” her dark body illuminated in a bright gold, then the shape began to shrink and shift, eight long legs appearing out of the main shape that had evolved into two orb like shapes. When the glow dispersed, she raised her front legs and waved, then skittered up Barry’s leg and body to his head.

“I have a spider on my head.” He said dumbly. “I have an alien spider nuzzling my hair.” Barry looked at Hal. “There’s a spider in my hair.”

Hal shrugged. “So long as it stays on you, we’re good.” He peered at her. “Rhiezheveir, can you understand us in there?”

She waved her front legs as Barry climbed into the ship, sitting on his seat; she scurried down his head to his shoulder and sat there, perfectly balanced, her beady golden eyes occasionally blinking.

“That’s a big ass spider,” Hal noted.

“She reminds me of a Goliath birdeater.”

“A what now?”

“Goliath birdeater. It’s the biggest spider on earth.” He examined her. “But her legs are so long…like a huntsman spiders’. I wonder if she’s got the abilities of different species?”

Barry reached up, holding out his hand and she climbed on it, letting him lower her to his lap. “Can you sit there while we take off, Rhiezheveir? Once were out of atmosphere, you can wander around the cockpit.”

All she merely did was raise her front legs and wave them once more before settling on his thighs, curling her legs in contently; he smiled down at her, then the realization of what bringing her meant and he blurted out, “I have no idea how we’re going to explain this to the others.”

“What do you mean?” Hal questioned.

Barry looked at him. “The crash land will be easy—you’re an idiot.” He ignored Hal’s outcry of offense and gestured to her. “How do we explain we picked up a shapeshifting spider…lady?”

Hal shrugged. “Hostile environment navigated by a peaceful intelligent lifeform who managed to be a stowaway?”

“I like the first half up until ‘who’.” Barry met his gaze. “She was threatened by her own people and begged to help her flee?”

The pilot pursed his lips. “We’ll need to use her reasoning for leaving. The whole royal consort business.”

“Sounds good.” Barry glanced down at her. “Rhiezheveir, does that sound—oh…I think she’s asleep.”

Hal looked down to Barry’s lap and sure enough, the hand-sized spider wasn’t moving on his legs other than the occasional leg twitch. “Sure she didn’t die?”

“Hal!” Barry hissed. “Don’t be mean!” he gently scratched her the top of her abdomen with his pointer finger.

“You’ve pack-bonded with a spider,” Hal noted. “Nice job, buddy.”

“Oh, come on. Like you don’t find her friendly.”

“She’s a spider.”

“She’s an alien who turns into a spider.” He watched the planet get smaller and smaller as they exited the orbit and into the stars. “Bruce isn’t going to be happy that we brought an alien back.”

“I think the pressing matter is that we have no idea what she eats.”

“Bugs?”

“You said she was an alien who turns into a spider, Bar. What’s she going to eat when she’s human…like?”

“Meat?” Barry wiggled his fingers in Hal’s side. “Man-flesh.”

Hal choked on a laugh, batting at the hand against his ribs. “Stop that.” He steered the ship through a debrief field with ease. “We’d better figure out or she’ll eat somebody in the middle of a fight.”

“In a fight?” Barry asked.

Hal shot him a look. “We didn’t take this Lady Spider with us just to get her off her home-world. She’s gonna help out somewhere.” He shrugged. “Might as well stick her in the Justice League.”

Barry’s lips pulled satisfactory. “That’s…actually a good idea.” He smiled. “I can’t wait to show her to Bruce. You know he doesn’t like spiders?”

“He’s scared of spiders?”

“I didn’t say he was scared of them, Hal. He just doesn’t like them. I think creepy crawlies make his skin crawl.”

Hal shoved him in the arm. “Don’t call her creepy crawly. She’s a pretty spider.”

“What happened to making fun of her?” Barry smirked. “You pack-bonded with the pretty alien spider lady, didn’t you?”

“Shut up,” Hal griped, going still when she shifted and crawled up the dash of the ship and stared out the window; she turned, waving her front legs. “Yeah Rhiezheveir? What is it?”

She pointed to the stars, drawing her front legs in downward arcs as if to say, “Wow!”

“Pretty, isn’t it?” Barry murmured and she did it again; he looked curiously at her. “Hey Rhiezheveir, you can understand us, right?”

She waved.

“Okay. Since you can’t talk to us until we get back, how about this—front legs up is ‘yes’ and front legs down is ‘no’. Do you understand?”

She lifted her legs up and he grinned.

“Good. Now, do you like warm places?”

Her legs went up, then down.

“Sort of?”

Up.

“You like warm and cool weather?”

Up.

“We’re going back to our world. There’re many habitats there. Some really hot and really cold. Others are in the middle.” He explained, watching her almost nod. “We’ll be meeting the group Hal and I work with on another ship. You’ll have to stay there for the time being. Is that okay?”

She lifted her legs up.

Hal leaned over. “Rhiezheveir, are you a spider that sometimes turns into a lady?”

Her legs stayed down.

“So, you’re a lady that sometimes turns into a spider?”

Up.

“Nice. Can you fight?”

Up and waving wildly.

Barry looked at Hal then back to her. “You said you refused the position of royal consort. Were you chosen because you could fight?”

Up.

“So, you escaped because you didn’t want to be forced into that position?”

Still up.

Barry nodded solemnly. “Rest assured, Rhiezheveir, you won’t be forced into anything like that on Earth. You’ll be free and able to live openly and not in hiding.”

Her legs stilled in the air, then the curled and Hal muttered, “I think you overwhelmed her emotionally.”

The Speedster cupped the spider in his hands, letting her crawl back into his lap. “Sorry, Rhiezheveir. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

She merely snuggled into his lap and stayed there.

“Rhiezheveir,” Hal started. “Your name is really complicated for humans to say. While I think it would be a good identity for a superhero life, I think you should find an easier name for people to use.”

She waved a single leg, signaling she was listening.

“How about (Y/N)?”

Barry smiled. “Ooo, I like (Y/N). That’s a pretty name.”

She raised her front legs and waved them excitedly.

“I think Rhiezheveir likes it too.” He scratched her torso. “Welcome to the Justice League (Y/N). You’re gonna fit in perfectly.”

(Y/N) waved her front legs, rearing up on her back.

“HOLY FUCK LOOK AT THE SIZE OF HER FANGS!” Hal shouted.

Tender - Azriel x reader - Pregnancy fic. Fem! reader. LONG!!! 

Prompt -  Hi! I just read most of your imagines, and i loved them!  You have me as your faithful follower, I don't comment much because English is not my first language. Could you write one where az manages to perceive that reader is pregnant right in the middle of the war?

You woke to yelling. Not screaming. Not fear or pain, but battle cries that you'd grown to love. They made your blood sing in harmony with the Illyrian voices. It made your heart hammer in your chest, and your muscles tense - ready to fight. Azriel groaned beside you, curling around your waist like a vise. You managed to break free from his muscled arms. Pale light shining through the tent tinted his shadows a light gray. They wrapped around you, drawing a chill down your spine. The war cries grew louder. "Get up. It's time." You shook him, pulling on your light armor. He covered his face with his hands, and did not leave the cot. He groaned again when you pulled the blanket off his mostly naked body. He was never a morning person.  Cassian rushed in when you were putting the last of your gear on, and Az froze. His grip on his pants went white knuckled. Cassian's face was pale, and before he could say anything Azriel was hurriedly pulling on the rest of his clothes. Your stomach dropped at the sight of the Warlord. "It's a diversion." You said, voice hollow. Cassian's slight nod was enough to make the breath leave you. "It's going to be fine." Azriel grunted, pulling his tunic over his head. "We just need to move the troops. Get Rhys here." He waved a hand at his brother dismissively.  Cassian grabbed Az's wrist.  He forced the male to look at him, to see his worried eyes. You tensed, ready to defend your mate even against Cassian's might. "Rhys is on the battlefield already. We're on our own." His voice was low, and the warning in his eyes was enough to make the hair on your arms raise. Azriel pulled away from him, slowly.  He began strapping his weapons belts on, pushed his hair back and sighed. "Where do you need us?"   The air was cold, and the howls of battle echoed across the hills. Azriel's shadows curled around your legs, comforting. Then they slithered their way across the valley where the battle was beginning.  + You could barely raise your sword by the end of it. The mud had been the most challenging part of the entire fight. The enemy horses had done a good job of making obstacles when they fell in the mud, lame with broken ankles and necks. You wished to put them out of their misery, but there was no time. The forces seemed to come in waves. Like a test against your small unit.  Few were lost from your side. The dewey grass steamed in the morning light, carrying up the reek of enemy blood with it. You wiped your face, trying to get the taste of dirt and blood out of your mouth. Sharp stinging pain seared your ribs under your arm. You hissed. Then, you felt the warmth of your own blood. You swore, and looked for a medic that wasn't tending to wounded on the ground.  Some Illyrian bodies were being lifted away, high into the air for burial at their homes. You dared not take a healer away from more critically injured soldiers. You nodded grimly to the ones that you passed. They were covered in blood, and yet still gave you fierce grins when you went by. They respected you. More than any other Illyrian Female before you. It was sad, but you hoped to forge a new path for other females of Illyria. You held an arm under your side and limped your way out of the mud. The packed mess inside your boots made moving your feet hard. You couldn't wait to shower.  You spotted Cassian far down the field, and watched as he raised his sword high over his head. Your stomach twisted in pity for the suffering animal under him. You looked away before you could see the lifeblood drain from the horse's neck. He sent a blessing to the Mother for the animal, and continued on to the next suffering soul that would meet its end via his blade.  + You hadn't seen her in a long while. Too long for a friend, but she gave you that same look she always did when she saw you hobbling up to her for help. Jeva was your favorite healer, and one you knew could keep a secret. She was round, and her voice was light and comforting. She smelled of nutmeg and berries. Something you had appreciated about her since you had met. "What is it this time?" She waved you inside, holding the tent flap open for you while you dumped your battle stained gear on the wood hutch beside the entrance.  The tent was light and airy, filled with small plants of different varieties and cluttered with boxes and books everywhere. Her desk and bed were shoved to the corner, and a long wood table took up the majority of her area. As if she had known you were coming, she already had potions of different types laid out on the end of the table. "Probably nothing." You said, pulling off your armor as gingerly as you could manage. The soft light flickered and changed to a harsh beam when she laid you down on her exam table. "I'm not supposed to be healing anymore you know. I'm retired." She clicked her tongue at you, earning a pained grin. It was hard for you to bother a healer for any amount of time for something that you were sure was so small. But something about it stung too much for it to be just a scrape. And you knew Cassian would lecture you about it being infected if he saw through your mask to the pain. Az would force you to see one anyway as soon as he learned of it.  "You know I wouldnt be here unless I had to be, Jeva." You said through your teeth as she cut away your muddied undershirt.  "Oh, I know. That's why I have my best potions ready." She laughed, then paused. Your shirt lay limp on the table. Her eyebrows knitted together at the sight of your open wound. "Is it bad?" You asked, craning to try to look for yourself. She held you down.  "Metal. Fragments are still in here, likely why it hasn't healed yet." You relaxed at that, grateful that it wasn't worse. "Thank the Mother. Az would have yelled all night." You rolled your eyes, and sighed as she started working on you. The first part was always the worst. The stinging hot potion that made the nerves around the wound numb.  "One-" She began her countdown, then poured. You growled at her, gripping the end of the stained table hard enough to crack. "Easy..." She warned, and smoothed down your hair. She knew how to take care of her patients, that was certain. You relaxed as the stinging eased. The dull ache that it left behind turned into a bad memory.  "I'm going to extract the blade then we can close you up. Simple and easy." She picked up her tools and began tugging away at your side. You could have fallen asleep with the relief the numbing potion brought. And with her humming in the air around you, it was a struggle not to. The time seemed to pass quickly, but when the clank of the metal tools jolted you from your dozing, the tent was lit in orange from the sunset outside. "Relax, we're going to close it up now. Once the potion wears off you will still be sensitive." She placed her hands over you, and the familiar warm vibrations of her healing magic set in. Then it stopped abruptly. You cracked open an eye, then narrowed your brows at her. "What is it?" You said gently, then again when she didnt reply. She stared at you, mouth agape. Her eyes locked to yours, even when you sat up to demand she tell you what the problem was. "Am I dying?!" you took her hand gently, in case she was going to push you away.  Then she started laughing, her hand gripping yours back. The warmth glowed in your palm, the light radiating out from it was starkly contrasting the tent walls bedecked in orange. The light she emitted shot through you, and you felt the wound tingle, and seal. You stared at her in shock. That amount of healing power was incredible. Especially for field medics.  "Youre not dying, no..." She waved a hand, fanning herself. Her eyes were glassy with tears. She sniffed and clutched your hand tighter. "Quite the opposite, darling." She pulled you in for a warm hug.  + You spent the rest of the evening with Jeva. Until she got a hurried message about student healers needing help on the battlefield. You stayed in her tent as long as you could manage with the ringing in your ears. You stared and stared at the mirror across from you, showing you the bloodied warrior that you wanted to be. That you wanted to stay.  The warrior that carried the Shadowsinger's child.  The thought made tears sting your eyes. You refused to let them fall. You had been ignoring his tugs down the bond for well over an hour. You knew he was concerned, but you couldn't bring yourself to shout back down. The only thing that echoed in your mind were Jeva's words "You're pregnant..."  Pregnant. Pregnant. Pregnant.  You nearly punched her when she told you she wasn't joking. The only reason you even believed her was because of that powerful zap of healing she sent to you. That she sent to scan your body and make sure the fetus was okay before you even knew about it. You could barely hear half the words she said as she told you your options.  You roiled with the thought now. The Mugwart she left on the table was daunting. You desperately wanted her back. Jeva would be able to deliberate with you. You knew she would tell you to do whatever makes you happy. You knew that. But you wondered how ethical the choice that made you happy was. Bringing a child into a world of war seemed cruel. Even if it made you happy. You distantly noticed Azriel as you passed him, walking to the forest edge just passed your tent. Worry laced the bond between you. You tried not to show anything back. But you knew he felt the tension, the void there. "Where the hell have you been?!" Azriel's eyes were furious when you passed him, his wings flared out slightly. You couldnt even look at him with anger back. Your emotions ran wild. You were frozen, and as numb as the potion Jeva had given you when she began removing the blade.  "Do you know how worried I have been?! I sent Cassian to-" He tried to grab for your hand to stop you, but you flicked him away. He stopped for a moment, stunned. Then returned with more energy than before. That yawning abyss in your bond was growing darker with shame, worry and anxiety. His shadows roiled around him as he caught up. "You dont get to-" "Azriel..." You stopped in the edge of the clearing. The small meadow was silent in the darkness, not even the monsters of Prythian dared roar tonight. Your mind did all the roaring you could handle, anyway. You tried to focus on the swaying grass, on the soft smell of wet bark and pine hanging in the air.  "Dont try to excuse this I need to know you're okay and-" He stormed in front of you, ready to burst with rage. His fear always made him angry. And for good reason after losing so many close to him.  A tear ran down your cheek, your face burned hot with hundreds of feelings at once. Fear, pain, shock, joy, hope.... elation. You wanted his children. You wanted to help raise his child. You wanted to see Azriel be a father. You knew he would be the best damn Illyrian father there had ever been.  The thought hit you like a well placed punch.  He saw your paleness, your tears and stopped his yelling. You fell to your knees, the mud splattering all around you. You wanted to lay down. Lay down and think about the implications of carrying his child. Would it be good for the baby to be born at all? Just because you wanted it didnt mean it needed to happen. You knew that Jeva would give you a potion to extract it without hesitation if it was what you wished. "I'm-" You choked out, fighting the panic that flooded you. Your mind roiled with the conflict of your mind and heart. It turned you into a muddied, dark ocean on the bond. A turmoil that he couldn't see past. If you were an ocean, he was your lighthouse on the cliffside. Signaling you home.   His eyes darted to your body, to your hands and how they wrung together in front of you. "I'm sorry. I just-" He sighed and took one of your hands. "I'm sorry." He kissed the back of it and brought his forehead to yours. He normally needed a lot longer to cool down after a fight, but seeing you in tears shocked him out of his pride. "I shouldn't have said that... I know you can take care of yourself." his voice was low, and he ran a hand comfortingly down your back. A hysteric laugh bubbled from your throat. It sounded like a sob. You didn't know exactly which it was. He sat back and pulled you into his lap, despite the grass being dewey and damp. He rocked you there for a few seconds before you had to tell him. Before he could be too close if he didnt want you anymore. The doubt crept into your head, and the nerves ate at you. Your heart raced, you could feel it in your neck. "Azriel..stop." You pushed away from him, to catch his beautiful dark eyes. They were painted in a silver hue by the moon above. You took in his face, the curve of his cheeks and lips for possibly the last time. You had to consider the worst possible outcome. You braced yourself for the rejection, for the pain of his reaction. You knew it had to come out. You knew you had to say it now or you never would. Your stomach flipped over and over.  You opened your mouth, a soft sob wracking out of you before you began. He froze. Went utterly still, his shadows even stopping for a second before whirling faster than before. Your eyes went wide. His nose flared, eyes narrowed. He held you closer, sniffing at your neck. He pulled back and his eyes were even wider than before. His mouth fell open when you nodded. "I'm-" "Youre-" his face went through a whirlwind of different emotion. Then, he broke out into a small laugh. He couldn't stop. You felt the tears running down your cheeks and didnt bother to wipe them away. "Honey... I'm sorry." He stopped laughing suddenly. "What do you want to do?" His eyes were masked, his expression the most serious you'd ever seen him. His aura on your bond seemed to go completely gray and still, as if he didn't want you to see him. He masked everything. In preparation for whatever you decide. The gesture made your heart squeeze in appreciation. You stammered, resting your forehead on his. "I dont know." You muttered, voice cracking. Then, he was wrapping his arms around you in a smothering hug. When he pulled away, he cradled your face in his hands. The hands that had seen so much cruelty in his life. The possibilities of the same thing happening to your child made your heart race. "I'm here for whatever decision you make." He brushed your cheek with a thumb. You nodded and let him hold you like that for a while. Quietly rocking back and forth with you in his lap. + You were near falling asleep when the war cries rang out again. Illyrians howling for their leaders to join them. Another onslaught of death coming their way. The calls were distant, but Azriel tensed the second he heard them. Your blood went cold. He buried his face to your chest, as if he wished he could hide there. "I'm not going." He said when you tried pushing him away. "I wont leave you." He promised, locking his muscled forearms around you. The echoes of battle cries faded. He stroked your hair, and traced his fingers along your back. Then he swore. "Let me take care of this." He said, voice edged with anger. Nerves pricked at your stomach, but you stood, wobbling on your feet slightly. He took off into the night sky painted in silvers and blues by the full moon. Then came racing back down right behind Rhys. the high lord took one breath and then he was hugging his brother. Azriel shoved him off, and they shot into the night sky. Well, Azriel did. He dragged Rhys with him. Grunts of pain and fleshy sounds of punching rang out.  You followed them high into the air where they had their conversation. Your wings led you around them with ease. "Stop fighting and use your words, boys." You warned. You recognized Azriels growl and smiled to yourself as they broke apart. Rhys adjusted his tunic and cleared his throat. "I need you there. Cassian is handling the Western front, the others need a leader."  Azriel began protesting against the high lord. "I cant with my mate-" "I know it feels impossible right now but-" "I will not, Rhys-" You set your jaw. If they wanted to fight over if you needed protection or not, you would take the option off the table all together. "I'll go." you said, voice strong since hearing Jeva announce what grew inside you. Pregnant, pregnant, pregnant. You shoved the thoughts away as far as you could. They both turned to you, horror striking Azriels features. "Absolutely not. No." Heat and rage flared down the bond. It made you want to defy everything he said. You locked eyes with him and glared. Rhys glanced between you with tense shoulders. He cleared his throat. "It would be a good compromise, Azriel. You can go together to the Eastern front. Think about it." He placed a hand on his brother's shoulder and gave him a grim smile.  "I wont say a word." He said, summoning the darkness around him then winnowing away. Azriel's cold eyes made him look like a statue. "Let's go." He said, and started circling lower. Back to the meadow.  "I'm going, you cant stop me from following you." You said, expecting a fight. He said nothing. You were met with that silence that drove others crazy tryin to find out what he wanted from them. The bond seemed to snap taut, then go into a relaxed state. He was hiding. You knew it, but would rather have silence and peace than him trying to fight you again.  He walked you back to the tent, and exhaustion took you under before you could remember him laying down with you. You hoped it it was exhaustion, and not whatever the baby was doing to you. Despite your best efforts, you couldn't resist the urge to cradle your belly while you slept. There was no bump, but it felt like the most natural thing to do now that you were aware of the being inside you. You slept hard, and awoke to the breakfast bell chiming. The sounds of slow footsteps marching through the mud kept you awake. Azriel was gone, but the candle on the table was lit. A note lay there waiting for you. His messy scrawl made you smile, the familiarity of his writing reminded you of the notes he would leave you when he had to leave early for meetings with Rhys. "Back by nightfall, lover. A guard is at the tent, ask her to bring you anything you need. -A" You peeked outside the tent to see Jeva there, her long fur coat shimmering in the morning light. Her breath clouded in front of her when she gave you a soft smile. "Good morning." She pulled a muffin from her coat. "Your favorite." She winked, and you pulled her inside. She had a fire roaring by the time you finished your food. "How are you not freezing?" She complained, blowing into her hands to keep them warm. You brushed the crumbs from your shirt and really took into account the changes you'd noticed lately. How hungry you'd been, how tired after the easiest days.  "Do you know... How um..." You gestured to your stomach. She gave a small smile and nodded. "Only a month or so." She said quietly. You stared at your stomach, as if waiting for something to answer you. To give some sort of affirmation that Jeva was right. She continued warming herself by the fire, and soon the tent was filled with her warm chestnut smell. Cassian entered the tent when you were starting to doze off again. The wool blanket on your lap reminded you of a time when you first met Az. Your heart squeezed at the memory of those long nights shared together by a fire. Taking your turns on watch duty. You shook yourself from the memory. Cassian froze. His face scrunched up at the sight of you. The scent, you realised. You swore to yourself, and Jeva only nodded when he looked to her. "Youre pregnant?" He asked breathlessly, and you could smell the fear and excitement coming from him. In fact, you could smell the smoked meat on his breath. And the cold air that clung to him from outside. It was refreshing, like a cool drink on a hot day amid the dry heat inside the tent. "I'm sorry, I shouldnt have.." He ran a hand through his hair, trying to remain focused.  "Its okay, Cass. What's going on? Az left me this note." You handed it to him. His lips moved as he read it. He went white as bone. Your stomach dropped.  + Azriel had gone in the night to take out the entire eastern flank with a small group of Illyrians. You felt your world skittering away as Cassian told you. Your vision went blurry, and tears fell, dripping on your hands that clenched the wool blanket.  "He's on his way here now. He had to answer to Rhys first."  Cassian waited for you to say anything. But your lips just couldnt form the words. The hurt, anger... the betrayal you felt for him going to battle without you. And defying a direct order from his high lord like a fool. "I suggest you leave before Azriel comes back. It may get messy." Jeva spoke for you, and you were grateful. You gave Cassian a nod of thanks before he turned and left. The cold wind that blew in from the door gave you goosebumps.  "Take it easy, you dont want to be too stressed." Jeva handed you a mug of tea and gave you a small squeeze. You could smell Azriel before he entered. Jeva shot him a glare, but said nothing. "I'll be in my tent if you need me." She promised, gave you a look that said 'find me after' and left. Azriel took off his armor plates one by one. A bit too slowly to be considered normal. Stalling. You said nothing. You let the tension roil out of you, let it hit him down the bond. Like a wave getting ready to break. He rolled his shoulders, stretched his wings.  The mask he wore cracked when he saw your fists balled in the blanket. "I couldnt risk you... or the babe." He tried to hide the fear that shone through. The fear of his mate or child being hurt in battle. He wouldnt be able to stand it. The fight was needed, anyway. He needed to get out his instincts to protect protect protect.  You said nothing. You let that looming wave grow larger. He sighed, and sat at the end of the cot beside you. "I'm sorry. I needed....I needed to get my head straight. I should have told you. I'm sorry." That wave crashed, not on him though. Internally, guilt and fear melting in on yourself. "I cant lose you, we... We cant." You said through your teeth, trying to hold back the tears that begged to spill over. He tried his best to hold back his surprise. "We?" He asked, a small smile playing on his full lips.  You gave him a grim smile. "If you're...ready to be a father. I like imagining you, with my child."  "Our child." He said with a bubbling laugh. You laughed with him, and it turned to hysterics.  He wiped tears from the corner of your eyes. "We're going to have a baby?" He cradled your face, looking into your eyes. You took one of his hands, and placed it on your flat belly. "Yes. We are." You said, voice quivering.  He wrapped you into a hug, and you cried together in the cot. 

I'll Make It Okay for You - Part 1

Pairing: Harvey Specter x Reader

Word count: 3,666

Warnings: Discussion, yelling, some angst, mentions of drugs, and drug abuse. 

Summary: What happens when (y/n) (y/l/n), Harvey’s secret crush and a junior partner at his firm, openly defies him in front of everyone?

You can find Part 2 here.

Disclaimer: I don’t own the show Suits, or its characters, also not associated with it in any way or know anyone involved with it.

A/N: So, this is my first Harvey Specter fic and I’m obviously quite unsure about it, lol. This might’ve ended up like one big mess, cause I tried to combine a bunch of Harveys I wanted to see. The perfect recipe for disaster, right? Anyways, I hope it doesn’t suck too bad and, please, feel free to give me feedback, cause I’m also here to learn!!

(y/n) = (your name) (y/l/n) = (your last name) (y/n/n) = (your nickname)

| masterlist |

You’d barely stepped out of the elevator when you were met by your secretary that morning. That couldn’t mean anything good.

“Morning, (y/n/n). You’ve got an emergency meeting with Jessica today. Gonna give you the schedule on the way there.” Lucy stated, leading you on the opposite way to Jessica’s office.

“Oh, I got the memo; company’s under attack again. She wants me on the frontlines this time. Louis is probably running around saying ‘We’re at war, people, war!!!’, or something like that. But why aren’t we headed towards the boss’ office?”

“Apparently, uh, she wants y’all to convey at Harvey’s office.” She said hesitantly, as if afraid of your reaction.

“Are you kidding me? It’s the first hour of the morning and she wants me to go see that smug face of his?” You pouted childishly.

“Smug and hot, you mean.” Lucy corrected you, getting an outraged look from you in response, as she usually would by saying anything positive about Specter.

“Shush,” You said, motioning for her to stop talking, “ one shall not praise Harvey Annoying Specter around me.” You stated full of obstination, but the younger woman just laughed you off and said:

“Well, here we are. I guess I’ll just have to send you an e-mail with your schedule, since, once again, we spent our schedule minutes of the day talking about “the enemy”.” She mocked with gestures and everything this time. That Lucy really was a piece of work, she timed the whole thing perfectly, in a way that you couldn’t even repudiate her insinuations because you were already standing in front of Specter’s office door.

Not long after you had entered and Jessica had officially started the strategy-meeting, though, all eyes in the room turned to you, as your phone started ringing in your back pocket. "Shit! I'm- I'm so sorry, guys, I guess I-"

"Can you please take your job seriously for once in your life, (y/l/n)?" You heard Harvey Pain-In-The-Ass Specter rudely remark, as you tried to swallow your embarrassment.

“Well, like I was trying to say, I’m sorry. Gonna turn it off right now, won’t happen again.” You said, directing your apologetic look to Jessica.

“You should just go ahead and answer it, could be something important.” She calmly told you.

“Especially now that you’ve already interrupted our work.” Specter chipped in again, which just gave you more fuel to answer the goddamn phone.

“Hello, yeah this is her.” You confirmed to the man on the phone, while taking a few steps towards the corner of the room. “What??? Are you sure? Oh my God! O- okay, just tell me which one and I’ll be there as soon as possible! Right, thank you.” Everyone’s eyes were on you, trying to understand what made you look so distressed. Except his, of course.

“Wait a second. Are you leaving right now?” He asked with a mix of annoyance and irritation in his voice.

“Yes, I am. I’m sorry, Jessica, but this is a family emergency. I have to go.”

“Well, I just hope you know that this doesn’t look good for you, (y/n).” She said, voice inexpressive.

“I do and, honestly? I couldn’t care less about that right now.” You firmly told her, while hoping your career wasn’t over by the next morning.

“I hope everything goes well for you and your family, (y/n). If you need anything, and I mean anything, just let me know.” Louis told you with that childish smile of his. Jesus, even in a moment like this, he tried to flirt with you.

“Thank you, Louis. That’s very kind.” You faked a tiny smile.

“Unbelievable.” 

“What?” You asked, turning back to face Harvey.

“Your firm is under attack and you’re leaving because of some stupid family crap?” Was he even serious?

“Precisely. And I don’t really care what your thoughts are on it. Our priorities are clearly very different.” Who the hell did he think he was to say anything about your family’s issues?

“Well, that shouldn’t matter because, the minute you walk in here, through those elevators out there, you’re supposed to leave all things personal behind.”

“Oh, right. I’m so sorry that I’m not some heartless lawyer like you, who’s just in it for the petty fights in the name of money-making.” Shit. You needed to get the hell out of there before you said something else to make Specter wanna kick you out himself. So you did. Stormed out like there was no tomorrow, leaving nothing but the very shocked Donna, Jessica, Louis, Mike, and Rachel behind. Oh, yeah, and a very pissed-off Harvey Specter.

Okay, maybe you were a little too harsh, but given the place you needed to go, to do what you needed to do, you didn't care about Harvey, your job, or anything else.

---

It was much later on that same day, around dinner time, that you heard a soft knock on your door. But how could someone be at your door, if the doorman downstairs hadn't announced any visitors? Were you dreaming? Well, the day had been so tiring that that wasn't exactly impossible… Nonetheless, you made your way to the door, whilst holding your very needy three-year-old nephew in your arms. Not that you could blame Henry after the day he’d had.

Since you weren’t expecting anyone, it was reasonable to believe that, whoever it was, was going to be a surprise. But not in a million years would have you ever guessed that Harvey Specter was the one knocking at your door. Especially considering what had happened at the firm earlier. How did he even know your address?

“Hi, (y/l/n). I didn’t know you had a kid.” He stated with a bit of surprise of his own, pointing to the little boy you were carrying.

“No, uh, I don’t have any.” You managed to say, trying to control your shocked expression. “This is my nephew.” You clarified again, a little more at ease this time.

“My name’s Henry. What’s yours?” You heard your nephew ask with his cute child-voice.

“Harvey. It’s, uh, it’s very nice to meet you, Henry.” Harvey told the boy, holding out his hand for him to shake, as a sweet smile came to his lips.

“Is he your friend, auntie (y/n/n)?” Henry asked you hesitantly, before making a move. The Don’t Talk to Strangers Rule must’ve kicked in his mind. 

Before answering him, you hesitated a little bit yourself, though. Was Harvey your friend? Obviously not, but if he came to your apartment in the middle of the night like this, it was probably because of something important. Work-related, of course. Which meant you’d have to let him in, so you settled for what would be the easiest classification for a three-year-old.

“Yeah, bud, he is my friend from work.” Hearing that, something in Specter’s eyes changed, you didn’t really know what, though.

“Well, then, can he come play with us?” He gave you such a cute look, that you almost said yes right on cue. But you obviously couldn’t. 

“You’d have to ask him, but I’m sure he has a lot of other, more important, things to do now.” You tried to explain to the little boy, giving Harvey a look. But you didn’t get too far, as the lawyer quickly said:

“Of course I wanna go play with you! That is if your auntie’s okay with that…” Now he was mocking you, that was the only explanation.

“Can we play with him, then, auntie (y/n/n)? Please, please, please?” God, what horrible thing could’ve you possibly done to deserve this particular punishment?

“Um, I guess... If he really has nothing better to do-” Harvey didn’t even let you finish your sentence.

“I really don’t.” He said, shooting you and Henry a bright smile that you’d never seen before.

“Okay, then, come in. Please disregard the mess, I got this stuff to make dinner, but someone just won’t detach, right, mister?” You asked your nephew with fake annoyance in your voice, as you tickled his sides a little bit. He just laughed at you. Though what really caught your attention was the fact that Harvey, too, was chuckling lightly at the scene, as he started picking up your groceries’ bags from the floor. “What are you doing?”

“Helping you, what else?” You gave him a weird look because, well, it was a weird situation. Maybe he noticed your discomfort because he added: “You look tired, so I’ll help you by making dinner and putting the rest of these away.”

“You’re kidding, right?” There was no way in hell that the All-Mighty Harvey Specter was gonna get domestic for you, of all people. Since he didn’t bother to answer, you went on: “First of all, what was it that you really came here to do, hum? And, second, I don’t need your help with anything.” Normally you tried to be kind to everyone, but, then again, Specter wasn’t exactly your normal kind of guy.

“Well, first of all,” he started in a tone of mockery, “that was rude! Look at the example you’re setting for little Henry!” Oh God, as much as you hated to admit it, he was kinda right, because you had completely forgotten about the little boy still cradled in your arms. “Second, we can talk about the reason why I came here later,” after your nephew’s asleep, was implicit in his speech, “third, it looks like you do need some help. And, for your luck, I happen to be a very good cook when I want to.”

“But-” You could barely begin your sentence, as Harvey sharply cut you off:

“You see, buddy,” he started, motioning to Henry this time, “the quicker we get your auntie on board with the game plan, the quicker we’ll get to eat and go play together!” Son of a bitch! Using a child to get to you…

“Can we please, auntie? Please?” How could you not crack after that pleading?

“Fine, but I swear I’ll make you pay if we wake up with food poisoning tomorrow, Specter.” You told him playfully, trying to lighten the mood after all of your bluntness.

“Oh, trust me, (y/l/n), you won’t. This will be the best meal you and the young man here will ever have in your entire lives.” He said cockily, but without the usual arrogance level, if that even makes sense.

A few hours and a really great dinner later, you and Henry couldn’t help but snicker shamelessly at Harvey’s ridiculous faces, as the three of you played a game on your living room’s floor. Trying to catch your breath from your giggles, you glanced up at the clock and realized that it was way too late for your nephew to be out of bed like that. So you broke up the game, announcing:

“It’s bedtime for you, Mr. Henry.” You watched the faces of the pair turn into ones of pure disappointment, as they prepared to pout.

“Just a little longer, auntie (y/n/n)! please!” The little boy started.

“Yeah, auntie, just a little longer! Please?” This time it was the grown man, one of the toughest Wall Street lawyers.

“As moved as I am by your synchrony, guys, the answer is a big no. C’mon, bud, let’s go brush your teeth. And then straight to bed. So say bye to Harvey, and thank him for being so nice to us tonight.” He looked between you and Specter as if still hoping for a hail Mary of some sort.

“Bye, Harvey.” He sounded so sad, but then he smiled brightly again, as he repeated what you’d told him to say word by word: “And thank you for being so nice to us tonight.” Hearing that, both you and Harvey chuckled lightly at the young boy, who quickly added: “Will you come see us tomorrow too?”

“Uh, we’ll, uh, we’ll see about that, okay, little man?” He tried to let Henry down slowly but, watching the boy’s expression become a sad one instantly, he added: “It’s just because both your auntie and I have a lot of work ahead of us tomorrow, but I’ll do my best, okay?” That was definitely a side of Harvey you’d never seen before, he had even bent down to be on your nephew’s level.

“Okay.” Henry said quietly, seeming to be a little happier, too.

“Okay, then let’s just go upstairs already.” You took the boy’s hand to guide him towards the spare bedroom’s bathroom, all the while shooting Specter a look that told him to wait for you a little longer.

“I’ll wait for you down here.” He said, proving he understood what your eyes tried to transmit.

So you headed upstairs with your nephew and, after a good fifteen minutes of brushing Henry’s teeth, helping him into his PJs, and tucking him in, you finally managed to come back to the living room, where you found Harvey looking through some of your photos displayed on the sideboard. For a minute or two, you just watched him. It wasn’t that you liked what you saw or anything. It wasn’t. It was more like postponing the weird conversation you two were bound to have, because, after all that had happened in those few hours, the atmosphere was, at very least, a strange one. But, almost as if he’d felt your gaze on his back, the lawyer in him was switched on, and he interrupted your thoughts by saying:

“Ah, you’re back. Good, because we need to talk.” You just motioned for him to follow you into your home office. But both you and Harvey looked so informal to be in that kind of environment, that you just indicated the small couch on the wall opposite to your desk for you to take your seats in.

“So, uh, before you even say anything, I wanna thank you for being so kind tonight,” a small smile came to your lips, as you remembered, not only the evening but how your nephew had used almost those exact same words, already imitating you, a little earlier. Specter smiled too, you noticed. “and I also wanna apologize. If you came here to talk to me… I must’ve made you waste a lot of time, huh?” You tried with a half-smile this time, as embarrassment started taking over you.

“What? No, of course not! I'm pretty sure that I told you I didn't have anything better to do, didn't I?" He calmly asked with a smile.

"Yeah, but I'm not buying it. You're Harvey Specter, isn't that what you're always saying? And Harvey Specter always has something better to do, isn't that right?" You shot back in a mockery tone, regaining your confidence.

"Well, maybe. But, not today. So don't apologize, and don't thank me. I'm the one who should be thanking you, I had a really good time tonight." Okay, now you were shocked. He had a good time?

"Uh, okay, um, so... What was so urgent that you had to come here in the middle of the night?" You nervously ranted, while tugging your hair behind your ears. He just stared at you, so much so that you almost repeated your question.

"Um, yeah, about this morning… That's why I came here…" You were already guessing that that would come up eventually, but it was the topic of your conversation? "I know that you and I always had our differences, and maybe even some rivalry-"

"Some rivalry? Dude, I'm just a junior partner, and ever since I started on that firm you've been persecuting me-"

"I wouldn't say persecuting…"

"Oh, you wouldn't?"

"Not since you made junior partner anyways. Now it's just a healthy rivalry between work friends…" He tried to use what you’d told your nephew earlier. 

"Oh, so you do admit you were persecuting me when I was an associate, huh?"

"Shit." He muttered quietly, as you watched him with a victory smile on your lips. "You know what? Hell yeah, I did persecute you when you were an associate." Hearing that blunt admission of guilt, you just couldn't find anything to say. “You wanna know why? I did that because, from the first time I saw you doing your job, I saw this very thing that I see now: you kicking ass, you think I wanted to admit this to you? I’ll answer it myself: no, I didn’t. The only reason why it happened is that you led me to it.” He blurted out, completely knocking you off your socks.

“So, um, you treated, you treat me like shit because, um, because I’m good?” You asked, still unsure of what to think about his confession.

“Well, that was part of it, sure. So, you see, I could understand it when you weren’t particularly thrilled at the perspective of working with me. But, this morning, you said that I’m a heartless guy who only cares about money… Is that really what you think of me?” This time he sounded genuinely sad? When Harvey said that he’d come to your apartment to talk about that morning, you thought he was gonna reprimand the shit out of you for disrespecting him ⎯ your sort of boss, a senior partner ⎯, but, apparently, he was asking about it on a more personal level. A level you’d never really thought played a part in your relationship with him.

“Oh, Harvey…”

“Be honest, please. I don’t want your pity. You don’t even know me all that well, so don’t try to minimize anything. I can take it.”

“That’s not what I was gonna do. And, trust me, you’re probably the last person in the world I’d pity.” You told him with a sly smile. “You’re right. I don’t know you all that well. Or, at least, I didn’t this morning. But I do know that you’re not heartless. Also, I was really out of line then, I’ve seen you fighting tooth and nail for a lot more than just money in that firm. You’re loyal to your firm and friends like no one else and, tonight, I watched you sitting on the floor and playing with a little boy. And, trust me, that meant more to him than you’d ever know, especially after today… Anyways, what I’m really trying to say is that I was so damn wrong and that I’m sorry. I’d gotten some pretty nerve-racking news beforehand, not that that’s an excuse but...” You told him, meaning every word and trying hard to show how much you regretted your previous actions.

“Wait, what news?”

“Ah, it’s nothing for you to worry about, really.” You tried to brush him off.

“Oh, c’mon! You said all those nice things about me, but when it comes to your life and your problems you still don’t trust me, isn’t that right?” His tone was sharply inexpressive, but his eyes showed he was actually hurt.

“What are you talking about? Oh my God, Harvey! I’ve relied on you for a number of cases that I really cared about! I let you in on my apartment! I let you spend an entire night around my nephew! Of course, I trust you!”

“Then what the hell is the problem? You think I’m not gonna give a damn about your family issues? Is that it? Because I am literally begging you to tell me about them!”

“I don’t wanna tell you because I don’t want you, or anyone else on the firm, to think that I’m some pathetic little girl who uses her family issues as an excuse to get out of a tough fight.” You confessed in a lower tone, slightly embarrassed, just hoping he would understand and stop poking. “Things are very different when you’re a woman, you know…”

“I would never think that about you. Family is important. Especially if it’s made of people like Henry…” He said, reassuring you, even though there was a hint of sadness in his voice. “Besides, you said you trust me, so you need to trust me when I say that I wouldn’t betray you by telling people about your problems. I’m not here as your boss, (y/n). I just wanna help you.” He sounded so sincere and, if you were being honest with yourself, you kinda really needed to vent.

“Okay, um, where to start? I have two sisters: Henry’s mother, Kat, and a fifteen-year-old, Lisa. I’m the older one of all three of us. Lisa’s sick, like very sick, so my parents, who are both retired, are with her at the Mayo Clinic in Rochester, to try and get her better. In the meantime, Kat was supposed to go to college, as well as care for her son, between my parents and me, she wouldn’t even need to provide for them or anything. But, a while ago, she overdosed for the first time. That’s when we found out about her addiction. We’ve already tried a million different things but nothing works. So, my parents and I threatened to make her lose her parental rights over Henry, hoping that it’d be a wake-up call for her, but it backfired. She just took the boy and disappeared, then today I get that call, from the police department, saying that she was in custody for drug distribution and endangering the well-fare of a minor. They asked me to go pick my nephew and, maybe, get Kat a lawyer.” And, just like that, you’d told Harvey Specter, of all people, everything. Tears rolling down your cheeks and him pulling you into a hug.

If anyone had told you that that was how your night was gonna go, you would have definitely laughed them out of the room. But now, just sitting there, being held and caressed by Harvey, as you let your armor down, it was finally beginning to look like things were gonna be okay. 

feed me, fight me.

pairing.  boxer!jjk x f!reader.  rating.  explicit.  tags.  relationship issues, baby angst, comfort, unprotected sex (please be responsible!).  wc. 3.5k.  beta reader.  @hobi-gif​, always.  💖  author note.  i’m really into comfort fics rn so... 

What do you get when you mix a pissed off girlfriend with a neglectful boyfriend?  (Aside from trouble, that is.)

The answer is you - throwing punches far harder than you should be, completely disregarding the fact that you’re meant to be playing the part of perfect partner, meeting pads in the sequence he’s laid out.  It’s you throwing a hook when you should be swinging an uppercut.  It’s you, snapping your leg out with a satisfying thunk! of your shin when you should only be thip kicking.  It’s you, not giving a single damn as you take out all your frustrations on someone who’s growing increasingly more irritated by your childishness.  It’s you, blatantly disrespecting him in his ring - sending a reminder that there’s more to life than the four corners of this space. 

How can he blame you though, when he’s the reason?  When you’ve voiced your annoyance more than once - more than twice, more times than you care to count - and each time it’s met with a half-hearted apology (if you could even call it that)?  How can he hold it against you when you’ve asked, demanded, pleaded for more? 

“Cut it out,”  he seethes, quiet, under his breath, irritation igniting his expression, something hot and angry burning in the dark of his stare.  A withering wildfire in an empty field, smoldering coals flickering bright.  It presents itself in how his mouth curls, the hard line of his jaw as bone threatens to snap in half from the tension. 

“Cut what out?”  Your retort is punctuated by the smack of leather on leather, the worn edge of your boxing glove meeting the pad that Jungkook raises just in time to avoid a black eye. 

“What’s your problem?”  How he manages to snipe back - somehow sounding disgruntled by your behaviour - you’re not sure.  All you know is it boils your blood, searing heat within your veins when he effortlessly blocks your next jab.  He knows you well and knows the sport better, predicting each movement as if you’re telegraphing it all with a giant neon sign on your forehead. 

(You probably are.  You’ve never been good at hiding your emotions, pinning your heart on your sleeve, your sadness heavy in your mouth.  They wear you, rather than you it.  A weakness of yours.)

“You’re my problem.” 

“Shut up.”  It’s not the usual exasperated annoyance he levels you with, meaner and paired with a swat of your gloved hand.  He’s not supposed to be countering you, instead only blocking the punches you throw his way. 

(But then again - when did he ever listen to you?  When did he ever do what he was supposed to?)

(It’s not a fair assertion.  You’re just mad.  Livid beyond belief, standing atop this hill that you’ll happily die on.)

“Fuck you,”  you snap, offering the petulant comeback in the same instance you surge forward.  He blocks your jab - sees it coming from a mile away - and goes to block your hook. 

Except it never comes, your knee straightening out instead, hard edge of your shin slamming right into the side of his leg. 

He crumples more out of surprise than anything, eyes wide, all the anger swept away by something closer to astonishment.  It shines impossibly bright in his eyes, turning his entire expression upside down when his knee hits the ground.  By how he falls, you’re sure you’ve hit just the right spot, left his nerve endings buzzing uncomfortably as the feeling leaves the limb. 

“Are you serious?”  You know he’s genuinely baffled then, voice slipping, cracking in a way you’d normally find adorable.  (It goes to show how upset you are, the awkward split of his words doing nothing to soothe your temper.)  “What’s your issue?”  He’s still seated on the floor, rocking back on his heels, brow knit in consternation.  It’d take him seconds to jump up - to put you on your ass - but he chooses to remain where he is, staring up at you with that look on his face.

(That look you love.  That you hate.  That makes your insides turn to goo on his best days and misery on your worst.  That you’ve seen every single day for the last three years, as the first thing upon waking up and the last thing before passing out.  That makes you hesitate now, peering down into it.)

(Were you being unnecessary?  Unbearable?  Was this on you?)

“I’m going home.”  It’d be nice to tear your gloves off, throw them in his face and storm off in a huff.  It’d cause the scene you’re hoping for, push him to where you need.  (Because that’s the thing about Jungkook - he doesn’t react otherwise and you’re sick of it.)  Instead, you turn on your heel and slink away, silent as a mouse.  

You’re tired.  Too tired.  Why had you started something you couldn’t finish?

It shouldn’t surprise you that you’re home alone for hours that night, curled up in bed and half-asleep when light from the hallway spills into your bedroom.  It comes with hardly any noise, a tell-tale sign he’s trying not to wake you (or disturb you or get caught).  You almost let it slide when his figure appears in the doorway, broad frame swallowed up by the oversized sweater he wears.

He’s moving near silently, having already deposited his gym bag in the laundry room.  He doesn’t even switch the light on, moving around in the muted glow of the hallway, fumbling as he strips his clothes off and tosses them into the hamper against the wall. 

You expect him to head directly into the en suite, wash away whatever grime he’s accumulated throughout the day.  He’s always been this way, far too concerned with dragging in odour and dirt into your bed to do otherwise.

Except tonight, he doesn’t follow his usual routine.  Tonight, he makes a detour.

The bed dips before you realise what’s happening, grip on the pillow under your head tightening.  Words fit between your teeth, ready to spill out, lash out, tear out like a bullet deadset on landing a bullseye. 

“I’m sorry.”  Two words you’ve been waiting to hear, that startle you enough to throw your anger out the window, tossing them out with the wash.  “I don’t know why you’re upset but I’m sorry for whatever it is.”  He’s speaking into the quiet of your bedroom.  You can feel his hand settled on the bed, wrist somewhere over the line of your spine.  

Oh - he thinks you’re asleep.

“Things have been crazy.  I’ve been stressed.”  Here, under cover of night, he’s vulnerable, explanation tumbling forth uncertainly.  You can hear it in the way the words form, syllables slipping into each other - a sure sign of his exhaustion.  “I know that’s not an excuse, so I’ll be better.”  Though he readjusts, weight distributing differently over the bed, he isn’t touching you.  You can only imagine how he looks, the posture he’s taken on, arms leant over knees, hands twisting together in that way of his that begs a silent help me.  A version of him you’ve seen only a handful of times.  

(Jeon Jungkook does not let things get to him.  Never has, likely never will.  He’s immaculately put together, strung tight by years of growing up too fast, wanting too much and fearing it’ll slip away.  He goes and goes until he can’t any more and only then does he still, crashing headlong over a cliff of his own creation.)

It’s then that you realise while you’ve grown irritated with his preoccupation, coming second to the man you’ve only ever put first, he’s been suffering right alongside you.  Differently, certainly, but suffering nonetheless.  Holding his cards close as he’s always done, shouldering all the things on his own and hoping for the best.

Irritation flares first.  Anger at the fact that he hadn’t confided in you.  It burns bright, erodes everything else in its path.

And then it dims almost immediately, overshadowed by a tenderness that blooms in the small of your chest.  Rosebuds that fill the cavity and swath affection in broad strokes, colouring everything purple - a pretty mosaic made up of equal parts love and sadness.

“You should’ve said something.”  

Bambi-eyed baby is your nickname for your boyfriend - one he reluctantly wears, scowls at when you use it in public - and yet you’re still blown away by the glossiness of his stare, how wide it goes when you roll to face him, simultaneously flicking your bedside light on.  There’s embarrassment crowding his expression, lighting up every handsome facet of his features in technicolour.  He works to hide it almost immediately, moves back on the bed as if he might find himself a home in the shadows.

“I thought you were sleeping,”  he mumbles, not quite looking at you, stare focused on your pillow case, the white linen that you’d bought when you’d moved in together.  “Did I wake you up?”

Though his concern is real, you know it’s a distraction too.  His way of deflecting, shifting the focus back to you.  

(Jeon Jungkook doesn’t live in the spotlight.  Hates it, in fact.  It’s a curious combination - wanting to be praised, to show off, and yet fearing failure so strongly.  A worrying mix when he’s down and an endearing one when he’s up.)

You’re still cocooned, still held far enough away that he hasn’t run for the hills, locking himself in the bathroom to put a further physical barrier between you.  Should you move too fast, you know he’ll spook.  Push too hard, he’ll leave.  

“Couldn’t sleep without you.”  It’s true enough.  Dreams had evaded you for the better part of the evening, held somewhere by hands inked like his, blemished by scars and calluses like his. They’d been kept in his coat pocket, tucked behind his ear.  (So maybe it’d been anger, too, that’d kept you up.  That doesn’t matter now.)

The disbelief is evident, both in his words and the quirk of his mouth, bathed in dim light.  “Really?”

(You sometimes wonder how different the two of you see things.  What a day looks like from his point of view - whether he reads all of your interactions in the same way.  You’ve always been terribly incompatible in that way, opposites in so many respects that it’d frankly baffled your friends when you’d started dating.

You were intent - sometimes too intent - on resolving problems, never letting up.  Forcing conversations you felt you needed to have, demanding answers even before there was one.  He, on the other hand, was uncomfortable with conflict, choosing to ignore the things that bothered him until they went away.  It’d driven you absolutely insane at first, made you worry that it was you that was the issue, simply being too much.  

But over time - three long years, to be exact - you’d found a common ground.  Or so you’d thought.)

“Why are you so surprised?”  

“You were pissed earlier.”  There’s a lightness to his tone, careful consideration poured into each word he offers, as if he’s navigating a minefield.  You’ve had these kinds of disagreements too many times for him to believe otherwise, as if his caution is a part of him, stitched lovingly - forcefully - by your hand.  “Thought you wouldn’t wait up for me.”  

“I shouldn’t have,”  you retort before you can help it, still just a little childish, a little hurt.  “But you know I hate going to bed angry.”  Of course he knows.  He’s lost hours of sleep due to your insistence that everything be talked out. 

He hums a noncommittal sound - more of a grunt - and you know your window is closing.  Now that you’re not out for blood, he’s retreating as he always does.  Readying himself to rise from the bed, close this half-read chapter and move onto the next. 

You beat him before he can, curling your fingers around his wrist, over the dangling silver chain.  (His birthday gift this year, heavy metal that’s cold under your touch.)  

“Don’t.”

One blink.  Another.  Slow and confused - deliberately so.  Then he’s looking away, staring down at the ground as if you haven’t just read his next move.  The ring might be his domain but home is yours;  it’s the one place you hold the upper hand.  “What?”  

“Don’t leave.”  It’s easy to read the meaning in between your words, the unspoken request that might as well be brilliant red ink.  It’s far kinder than your usual demands, more pleading than begrudging, more need than want.  

“I need to shower.”  

It’s not a no - which you suppose is a win. 

“Just wait.”  Your request comes with an adjustment, whole tired frame rising from the bed only to sink back down - this time against your partner, your other half, your infuriating love.  He accepts you readily, dropping his ink-strewn hand over your covered thigh.  The weight is comforting over the warmth of the duvet, grounding you in the quiet of your home.

“I’m gross,”  he complains, though he doesn’t make to move away.  Stays right by your side when you drop your head against his bare shoulder.  “Now you’re gross.”

“We can be gross together.”  Because you’re not ready for him to leave you, to close the door as he so often does.  (And, for once, you’re not quite as angry, not seeking an argument that’ll give you the resolution you hope for.  You want communication, open and honest.  You want him, vulnerable and soft.)

A little sigh comes, a puff of breath that expands his doughy cheeks and sends wayward strands fluttering.  It’s less resigned and more endeared - you know how much it means when his acquiesces like this.  

Maybe he wants those same things, you think.  

“Do you wanna shower?”  You ask in perfect tandem, words folding together.  You nod in the same way.

Encased in the small space - it’s different.  He’s preoccupied, back turned to you, shielding you from the slow-heating stream.  It’s as if his mind is a thousand lightyears away, trapped somewhere with the stars as the water rains down around the two of you, fogging the glass and wetting his hair. 

“Babe?”  

There’s a delay before he reacts, peering over his shoulder at you, a faraway look in his eyes.  You wonder what he’d been thinking of, whether he’s still on the same page as you or if he’s skipped ahead as he tends to do.  When he speaks, you have your answer, his words flicking through paper to bring you two where you need to be.  

“Can you wash my hair?”  An indulgent treat he rarely requests, one he seldom allows.  He’s far too on the go, jumping from this to that to spend much time like this with you. 

It’s a sign if there ever was one. 

You reach for your shampoo bottle wordlessly, popping the cap and depositing sweet peach-scented liquid into your hands.  They fold into his strands carefully, tips of your fingers pressing into his scalp, delightful bubbles accumulating between your digits.  He doesn’t make a sound but you feel the way he relaxes, practically melting into your touch as you work the cleanser through his roots, careful to keep the suds from descending into his eyes. 

When was the last time you’d done this?  Weeks ago?  Months, maybe?  You honestly can’t recall.  (Not that it matters now.  You’ve found yourselves back here, terribly tender and intimate in the dead of night.  Almost as if no time has passed at all.)

Silence stretches between the two of you.  You don’t even need to instruct him to rinse, running seamlessly through the routine without hesitation. 

Conditioner replaces shampoo, deft fingers combing through the few knots in his feather soft strands.  Though there are hardly any, you know he loves when you take extra care, treating him in ways he’d never ask for otherwise.  He savours these quiet moments of almost-solitude, spoiled rotten by your familiar touch and comforting affection.  

You’d give it every single day if you could.  Had, in fact. 

That’s what’d brought you here, after all. 

“‘m sorry,”  he says - mumbles really - surprising you as you’re working your fingers into the nape of his neck, concentrating on the tension that’s carved out a home beneath muscle and sinew, turned bone iron-clad. 

“For what?” 

Any other time, it might’ve come across demanding, needing an answer that would soothe whatever inadequacy he’d somehow strung your heart up with.  Now, it’s genuine, asked more for him than you.  

You want to be let in.  Need it. 

“Being out of it, I guess.”  It’s a lot for him - admitting this.  “I’ve just been busy and I guess I kind of just—“  The imposing line of his shoulders rise and fall, a mountain range disturbed by the uncertainty in his voice.  

“Forgot about me?”  You don’t mean it meanly.  It’s a simple statement of fact, one the both of you have to face. 

“Yeah.  Something like that.”

You deliberate accepting the apology and moving on, sweeping it under the rug because he’s already come so much further than you’d thought he would.  But that’s not the kind of person you are, so you press just a little more, stand just a little taller. 

“I don’t think I ask for the world, Kook.”  Maybe more than some people.  Maybe less than others.  “If I’m being too much, I’d rather you let me know than shut me out.”

A sigh comes, so heavy you wonder whether he might be Atlas, carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.  

“No, I know.”  

“Do you?”

(At some point you’d stopped massaging the conditioner in, opting to crowd your hands over his back, working into the knots that run beneath his skin.  He hadn’t been lying - he’s stiff as a board, entire broad form twitching any time you press the pads of your thumbs into a particularly sensitive spot.)

“I thought I’d figure it out myself,”  he reasons, in that oh-so impossible Jeon Jungkook way of his.  “Didn't realise it was taking a toll on you.” 

“On us,”  you correct, not at all tactful.  

“On us,”  he agrees with another sigh, smaller this time, tinged blue with something that feels like guilt and fills up the glass space. 

“We’re a team, you know.” 

(You know he knows.  You just have to remind him sometimes, anchor him with the knowledge that it’s not him against the world.  That you’re in his corner - always.)

“I know.” 

When he turns to look at you - doesn’t even flinch when the sudden movement has you wobbling on your feet, catches you when you stumble - you don’t doubt that.  He loves you just as much as you love him, sees the whole world in the small of your stare.  

“I’m sorry,”  he says again, two hands coming to cradle your face, palms warm over each cheek.  “Just give me some time.”  For what, you’re not sure.  You don’t mind waiting to find out though - willing to weather the storm just to see him happy.  

Jungkook holds you close, threads his fingers through yours and peppers love into the silk of your hair.  Dresses your skin in the heat of his affection and sears his signature into the velvet of your skin, teeth dragging, tongue gliding.  

“Is this better?”  He means how he holds you, how he treats you like porcelain as he fucks you slow and tender, keeps one leg hooked back over his own. 

It’s not that this is the kind of lovemaking you prefer but rather the one you need, with him consuming you wholly, sweetly, filling you with each fluid roll of his hips and nothing else.  No elaborate dirty talk, no overzealous bouncing, just the two of you together, curled against each other like you might not survive otherwise.  

He’s not pushing you to your finish with deft fingers over your clit, not taking his fill with greedy hands.  He’s simply there, with you, feeling every curve of your body as he sinks into your aching cunt and sighs as if he’s in heaven.  (And maybe he is - because where he is could only ever be where you are and you feel like you’re floating, weightless and lovestruck, anchored only to your bed by the hand that squeezes yours and the mouth that purrs your name.) 

“Yes,”  you breathe, exhale in a breath that seems to take all of your effort.  It’s hard to focus when he splits you open so well, fills your pussy and your heart and makes your chest erupt with a kaleidoscope of butterflies. 

“I love you, sweetheart.”

When he says it like that - folds it like a promise and tucks it into the spot behind your ear - you know it’s true.  Even if you don’t always feel it, even if he doesn’t always show it, there’s not a doubt in your mind. 

In all the ways he can, he loves you.  And whether that means enough from one day to the next, you don’t mind sticking around to find out.  Not if it means more of this. 

(Of him, of you, of your life together.)

tag list.  @neverthefirstchoice @youwannabelostandnotbefound @snackhobi @codeinebelle

I was wondering if you know any Cherik fics where they're dating but it's w different people's pov? Or where people don't believe that they are together. They're not rude but they're just sceptical yk. Where they don't believe that one of them has a partner.

Thanks for the ask anon. I have to say that outsider POV is such a guilty pleasure of mine. There are some great fics out there that match your description. There are also a few fics that kind of match your description but deviate a bit from your request. I still think they fit the theme. I hope you enjoy!

Outsider POV - Don’t know that they are in a relationship

Work/Life Balance - pocky_slash

Summary: As teens, Charles was the star of a super popular tween/teen television show and Erik was his best friend. As adults, they're a frighteningly domestic married couple and Alex, Darwin, and Sean are Erik's nosy co-workers.

Rumor Mill - ikeracity

Summary:  Erik is the grumpiest, most foul tempered worker at Stark industries. His grumpiness is the stuff of legends.

So it's obviously the talk of the office when Erik is being made to go to the company party and he's bringing his husband. There's rumors flying round about how much of a masochist or equally antisocial bastard Erik's husband must be to put up with him. Others think he must be a meek mouse perhaps bullied by Erik.

What they weren't expecting was the confident, charming, adorable and unbelievably nice Charles that turns up on Erik's arm. What they certainly weren't expecting was how much Erik obviously adores his husband and how happy he is to let others see this.

Twice as Blind - Darksknight

Summary: Erik is probably the biggest asshole on the face of the earth, and because of this, he'll probably die alone. Charles is a complete flirt and playboy and, probably, will never commit to anyone ever.

(The lesson here is that when you have two friends who are BOTH secretly seeing someone, well, it's probable that they're seeing each other.)

For Argument’s Sake - Darksknight

Summary: The 'Science Wing Fights' are infamous, mostly because it's exciting to see two teachers really have it out, partially because Charles and Erik have the most intense and interesting fights any college student can dream of. So maybe a rumor or two get spread around to start the fights off, maybe someone mentions a hicky or the possibility of Charles seeing someone, but it's not like anyone's trying to instigate anything. Expect Raven. Raven will always instigate things.

Bang! A boomerang is love! – magichistorian

Summary: Everyone knew Mr. Xavier and Mr. Lehnsherr hated each other's guts.

Right?

Sugar Honey – IreneADonovan

Summary: Erik Lehnsherr is the new Senior VP in Stark Industries Engineering Division. He's a bastard to everybody, and everyone pities the pool fool who's married to him, whoever he/she may be. Until they meet him. Then they all jump to erroneous conclusions as to why he took the position at SI. Tony Stark eventually sets them straight. After he busts a gut laughing, that is.

I Heard a Rumor (the Miss Jones Syndrome Remix) – iberiandoctor

Summary: A ring appears on Professor Charles Xavier's finger. The student body at the University of Utopia embarks on a mission to find its source, and makes an unexpected discovery.

X-Men Apocalypse's 1980s-era powered universe in which the name of the school is more than wishful thinking, at least on mutant-friendly Genosha. Charles Xavier is a genetics professor at the University of Utopia; Emma Frost and Tony Stark are his best friends; Charles’s students are extremely nosy and think they know it all. Erik Lehnsherr is… not what you'd expect.

Erik’s Fake Boyfriend - KatSquared

Summary: Emma Frost had her sights set on Erik Lehnsherr, and so did half the campus. However, he made it a point to reject everyone who’s asked him out, and it seemed the man had a “boyfriend” that no one’s ever seen.

Gossip makes the workplace go’round - ximeria

Summary: Apparently if Erik is in a good mood, his employees have to ponder how that may have come to be. Their ideas are, however, wildly off the mark.

Prom Kings - Project896

Summary: "now that you've mentioned it, Im actually curious." Angel whispers so that Mr. Xavier won't have to give them his sad puppy eyes to get them back to reading their books.

"Yeah, he's been wearing that ring since he moved here last year, who do you think his wife is?" Raven glances up to make sure Mr. Xavier is still busy helping Sean understand the story, while doing so, she eyed the golden ring on his ring finger.

Bang! A boomerang is love! - magichistorian

Summary: Everyone knew Mr. Xavier and Mr. Lehnsherr hated each other's guts.

Right?

JJ´s Round-the-Clock Breakfast Bounty Platter - pocky_slash

Summary: Ron makes a friend. As if that's not weird enough on its own, Leslie's pretty sure he's in the mob. (Also, Charles is charming and Erik is the opposite of that.)

In Plain Sight - archipelago (arcanewinter)

Summary: A story where Charles and Erik have basically been together from the first time they met. The whole fate, wow we found each other thing. Now I would like the others not to know and try to bring the two 'oblivious' guys together. They of course enjoy this quite a lot.

Nevermore - amarriageoftrueminds

Summary: [Missing scene] This is what should have happened after Raven and Charles' contretemps in the kitchen.

I Did Not Just See You Kissing Magneto - swoopswoop

Summary: Alex spots Charles and Erik sharing a kiss while a building is collapsed around them before the latter runs off with the Professor.

Or Erik gets bored and so kidnaps Charles.

The Bitter Consequences - swoopswoop

Summary: It was all an accident, they never meant for the other's to find out. Of course, when they did, there was nothing left but to face the music.

Santa’s Helper (The Santa’s Secret Remix) - traumaschwinge

Summary: Raven loves her idiot brother dearly. She wants him to be happy, honest. It's just really hard sometimes when he acts like a teenager instead of a full grown adult.

Or: Raven watches Erik and Charles dance around their crush on each other until she snaps.

A Job Well Done – grim_lupine

Summary: Raven can safely say that when she met Erik in junior year, she didn’t expect she’d ever be having this conversation.

Who’d have thunk? - ximeria

Summary: While everyone knows that Charles and Erik can be a bad influence on each other, there are other sides to their, at times, insane relationship.

Everything Hits at Once - afrocurl

Summary: David's relationship with Charles is tenuous at best, but coming to watch the launch of Cerebro can't be a good idea. Can it?

For the Record - endingthemes

Summary: As prominent figures in the mutant rights movement, activists Charles Xavier and Erik Lehnsherr are pretty much household names. When a romance scandal between them breaks, their celebrity reaches new heights, and though the increased exposure is great, there’s a big problem -- the two of them are just friends.

Too bad no one believes them.

Note: Technically not an outsider’s POV but everyone is wondering about their relationship and it’s just one of my faves.

Stockholm Syndrome (Helmut Zemo x Reader)

[Marvel-Masterlist]

Summary: During the fight with the Dora Milaje in his safe-house, Zemo made an exit. But not alone. For inexplicable reasons, he dragged you along. Probably because he wanted to mess with Sam & Bucky. Would the Baron kill you? Or worse?

Words: 4,083

Warnings: language, angst, fluff (?), kidnapping, spoilers for TFATWS, (Let’s put the angsty shit in this part & the fun stuff in the second one.), (Y/E/C) = your eye color, REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

If you like my work & wanna support me: a coffee would be highly appreciated ❤

The fight in front of you held your entire attention. Eyes focused on moving bodies, kicking, punching their way through. While you were not inexperienced when it came to battling, you preferred holding back. Bruises were not necessarily your favorite. Not these kind of bruises at least. All your ears could make out was the grunting radiating from the combat. Hence why the movements behind you stayed inconspicuous. Only when a cloth pressed against your nose & you had no choice but to breathe in, did you notice the jeopardy of the situation. Darkness enveloped you. The last thing you perceived was a dark silhouette picking you up. As much as you wanted to fight back, to defend yourself, it was impossible. All strength had dissipated. Whatever was happening, you hoped you would wake up again. This could not be how you died. You would not die.

Pain woke you up. But you were not hurt. At least that was what you remembered. Then it came to you. Someone had kidnapped you. If your eyes did not open soon, you would regret it later. Heavy eyelids slowly opened. Though it took many attempts to keep them that way. You scanned the room. There were no windows, no light which would have made that task easier. It took a few minutes to adjust to the obscureness. And once you did, you found yourself as perplexed as before. No restraints were obstructing your motions. Technically, you could up & leave. But it was never that simple, was it? The door was opposite of you. Your muscles were still sore. The act of standing up & waltzing over seemed like too much effort for you. The bleakness of the wall your back rested against was a more welcomed sensation. Your knees scooted closer to your chest. Arms raking around them, you hugged yourself. Hoping it would bring you a bit of comfort. Your brain failed to work properly. Because you were stumped. Who could have possibly seized you? Walker was busy getting his ass kicked. Lemar imitated his partner, pretty much. Sam ordered Bucky to help out & went into the battle right after. And Zemo was… Yeah, where the hell was Zemo during all of that? If you recalled correctly, he held a drink in his hand. Like you, he kept away from the fight. And then? You were aware that the Baron was not a saint. Neither were you. But you did not believe he would pull something like that. Then again, it was Zemo. Nobody knew his next step. Nobody but himself. Your foot tapped a rhythm on the cold, grey pavement. Usually, when your anxiety acted up, you distracted yourself. Fiddling with your hands or bouncing your legs. Something you could focus on that was not life threatening to your mind. The unknown beat managed to calm you down the slightest. Whoever held you hostage would be back soon. Your gut feeling told you so much.

Maybe you dosed off again. Because your body flinched when a creak reached your ears. Quickly, you looked around for possible threats. The only thing that had changed was the door sitting ajar. Only a diminutive gap. It was noticeable due to the light illuminating the room. There was no piece of furniture which meant that nobody lived here. It resembled a cell. But even cells had a bed, a chair. Something. The room turned dim again but only for a second. A shadow, you figured. Your captivator was here. So close, in fact, goosebumps erupted. A chill ran down your spine. This single interaction could modify your imprisonment. You still needed time to consider a successful escape plan. Which meant that you needed to observe the person keeping you here. Movies displayed such situations more than once. It was manageable. If they decided to show themselves & reveal their identity. Your eyes fell to the boots first. Black or a dark brown that was not detectable due to the lack of brightness. Next were the pants. Black again. The end of a coat came into view. Dark grey, almost anthracite. Your thoughts instantly went to one person. You could be mistaken. He was not the only one with a coat like that. Your gaze flickered up to his hands. The leather gloves were proof enough. Your (Y/E/C) eyes locked onto his brown ones. There was no shock written over your features. After all, deep down, you awaited this sight to be met with. As much as you wanted to withhold it, your eyes rolled & the sigh that left your lips was one of pure exhaustion. Zemo never made a secret out of it. His dislike for you started off the moment he first laid his eyes on you. From then on, it only seemed to increase steadily. You were a simple person. If someone treated you like shit, you returned that favor with pleasure & ten times worse.

“You are awake.” he stated the obvious after his frame entered through the doorway.

“Pretty sure I’m still dreaming.” you replied sarcastically, your elbows propping onto your knees. A smirk formed at the corners of his mouth. Whatever you said, it was the wrong thing.

“You dream about being locked inside a small cell? And I make an appearance as well? This does sound problematic, (Y/N). Nothing I would not be able to help you with.” he enjoyed this. Disgust made itself shown onto your face.

“Yeah? How could you possibly help me with that?” it took you a second to fully realize what you said. Immediately, you corrected yourself. “You know what? I don’t even wanna know.” your head rested in your hands, slightly embarrassed by turning this conversation awkward. Maybe it would have been more convenient if you just kept quiet. Zemo chuckled shortly but did not comment on it again.

“I assume you wonder why you are here.” the Baron observed your small frame on the floor. It was easy to recognize how uncomfortable you were.

“Your assumption might be correct.” your head tilted upwards, trying to hide the fear. Burying it deep down. You needed to think clearly so you could escape him.

“Would you like me to declare your purpose?” he questioned, eyebrows raising.

“Enlighten me, Baron.” you wasted no time with your reply. Maybe you imagined it but you could have sworn that his muscles tensed up when you called him by his title. You were the weaker one here so you kept your jokes at bay.

“I have no desire to get involved with the Wakandans. A getaway is more enjoyable with a suitable associate.” his hands gestured & you fathomed the seriousness behind his words.

“Oh, so that’s what I am now? An associate? Could’ve sworn I was your enemy. Improvement, I guess.” you focused on a lighter spot that interrupted the evenly dark color of the cement wall.

“I never declared you my enemy. That is solely your imagination.” Zemo stared at you but you would not give him the satisfaction of holding eye contact with him. He did not deserve it.

“I prefer my imagination then.” you stated & earned another chuckle from the Baron.

“Our departure is soon.” he let you know & left you alone once again. Great, so he did have a plan for you. But it did not seem like he wanted to murder you brutally. Basically, you could do nothing. The lock of the door clicked. No way out of this room. And your cellphone was no longer with you. He probably removed it from you while you were unconscious.

The drug Zemo had you breathe in really affected you. Tiredness rushed through you still. Falling asleep once again was inevitable. A steady, loud noise stirred you from your slumber. When your eyes opened, the chair you were seated in felt familiar. Your surroundings were not new to you. It was Zemo’s private jet. No sight of him. No sight of Sam & Bucky. The only company was the engine of the small plane, creating a ringing in your ears. Surprisingly, you were well rested. Your sleep schedule was messed up. On a good day, you slept for three hours. On a normal day, though, you were lucky if the dreamland even invited you in. Did that mean that you should thank Zemo? For drugging you? Your gratitude could stay inside, for now. It was kind of embarrassing to admit that you had enough rest because of him stunning you. All it would do was feeding his ego. He had enough of that already. Would it be clever to hop out of a plane that was thousands of feet in the air? A clever suicide mission, maybe. Zemo would not harm you. If he truly wanted to, you would be a ghost already. Where was he anyway? Certainly, he would not leave your side after kidnapping you. A look down your lap confirmed what you had feared. The trembling of your hands was noticeable. Almost worse than usual. If push came to shove, you could defend yourself perfectly fine. The Baron did not strike you as a fighter type of guy. Sure, he could handle a gun. In reality, the one thing he could really handle was his alcohol. If you had been in a cell for almost ten years, you would not be able to cope with this world either. Now that you were thinking about it...when was Zemo not drinking? Ever since you guys had teamed up, he had taken every chance to get some liquor into his system.

“How are you feeling?” a voice startled you. The cause of it was your dear captivator. His strut brought him over to you, taking a seat right opposite of you. Plopping down onto the soft cushion with a sigh, he intertwined his fingers in front of his chest. His chin rested on the back of them. The intensity with which he eyed you was unsettling. Your body curled together, shifting away from his rigid glance. The man in front of you frowned. Never before had you behaved that way. Usually, you were sarcastic, humorous. Your current state was uncommon. The fight or flight instinct kicked in. If you played by his rules, the cards were on your side. So the only natural thing was to answer him.

“Okay.” it was short but the tone held much meaning.

“Okay is not good.” he mumbled quietly, though you could still make out his words. The clouds outside of the window you were sitting next to looked like cotton. Smooth, soft. Perfect if you wanted to jump in. The sunset colored the sky in various, bright hues. A phenomenon. That was something that had always fascinated you. “Astonishing, is it not?” the silence broke when he spoke up yet again. You nodded, still gazing outside.

“We will arrive soon.” another voice joined you. The startle from your side could not be stopped. You hated how jumpy you were. Especially during such a situation. The strong, independent woman you usually were was gone. Right now, you were like a little girl, awaiting punishment for misbehavior. Apparently, the Baron was a mind reader because he soothed your worries immediately.

“You did nothing wrong, if that is one of your concerns.” he started. His eyes then flickered to the other man on the private jet. “Thank you, Oeznik.” small smiles were exchanged between the two of them. The assistant disappeared through a door again. Zemo being the only company left.

“Where are we going?” you had to know.

“Somewhere safe. Where nobody can locate me.” as his eyes met yours, he finished. “Us.” your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. His explanation was not helpful at all. You were still left in the dark. Your destination was unknown but he assured you that you would be safe. Zemo would never lie about something so significant. This bugging feeling was still present. If he did not tell you more about the location, maybe he could elucidate this.

“Why me? Why, out of everyone, did you kidnap me?” slight anger was behind your eyes but one could only notice if they looked precisely. The Baron’s head tilted. In amusement, you guessed. His forming smile held a hint of another emotion you could not quite identify.

“Kidnapping is such a harsh word, don’t you think?” was it mockery you could hear? “I believe there is no need for us to repeat our previous conversation. I told you why you’re here.” he stood up from his seat, dragging his body to the very end of the plane. There, he picked up two small glasses. The liquid of the half empty bottle of scotch poured a good amount in both of them. Evidently, one for him & one for you. His hand stretched out towards you & he offered you the drink. You eyed it suspiciously. While you were not one for drinking alcohol, maybe it would assist to calm your nerves. In the end, you reached for it, touching his hand in the process. The skin contact sent an unintended chill down your spine. Goosebumps were forming. The pit of your stomach felt odd. Never before had you experienced such a sensation. Though, & you had to admit that, it was everything but unpleasant. Your body language spoke louder than you would have liked. And it did not go unnoticed by the man in front of you. To avoid an awkward tension, he decided against commenting on your body’s reaction.

The first sip made you wince. A burning sensation washed down your throat. The Baron handled his alcohol way better than you did, that much was obvious. Unfortunately, the liquor did not numb your anxiety right away. The effect was awaited but luck was not on your side. Would it be rude to ask for another drink? The downside was not realizing how strong it was. If you got wasted then Zemo could take advantage of your state. Depended on how he defined taking advantage of you. The conversation that had died down for a while was resurrected. This time, it was you. This shocked not only you but also him.

“I don’t like you.” you stated monotonously.

“I am aware.” he chuckled, taking a sip of his drink.

“You don’t like me either.” one of your eyebrows raised.

“An incorrect assumption.” his hands gestured to emphasize his words. You rolled your eyes, throwing your arms up in frustration.

“A freaking obvious fact.” you breathed out, falling back into your chair. The softness caressed you tenderly. A hum left you & your previous desperation was replaced by some sort of relaxation. Why did your emotions change so quickly? One moment, you were scared. The next, you were furious. Then, you untightened. All in the presence of the man who had kidnapped you.

“What is going through your mind right now?” seemed like he was eager to talk to you. Comfortable silence with Baron Zemo was not possible. It was either awkward or not quiet at all. Your head snapped into his direction. He was deep in thought. Occupied with whatever his mind came up with.

“I-I don’t know.” you were being honest. Spending more time with him meant no lies. At least not about such things. The next question came naturally. “What about you?” one corner of his lips lifted slightly. The first step in the right direction. Deep down, Zemo was aware that you did not exactly hate him. Liking him would be too far but at least, you tolerated him. Accepted his presence.

“I am quite fond of bringing you with me. Sam & James are irritating. Helpful but irritating. You are a delight to be around.” he confessed & you had the urge to call him out on his ridiculous behavior.

“Sounds fake but alright…” your annoyance was audible.

“I beg your pardon?” he abandoned his glass, placing it on the small table nearby. Elbows propped onto his knees & his upper body leaned forward, closer to you. But not close enough to make you feel uncomfortable.

“Ever since we met, we’ve been arguing non-stop. This is the first normal conversation between us.” your fingers pointed to him & then to you, signaling what you were talking about.

“Arguments are not an indicator for antipathy.” Zemo explained.

“Oh, they’re not?” the sarcasm was more than obvious. “What then?”

“They are concealing true emotions, burying your urges deep within.” casually spoken, as if he had prepared this exact speech multiple times before.

“My urges?” you questioned, making fun of his statement.

“Indeed.” he wore a winning smile & you hated the effect it had on you.

“Sure.” you chuckled, shaking your head in disbelief. “My only urge is to punch yo-“ both of your heads turned into the direction of Oeznik who unknowingly interrupted your conversation.

“We’re here.” he claimed, nodding briefly, & left you alone again. By the way his face changed, he looked like he was sorry for bothering the two of you. Truthfully, you were glad that he joined you because without him, you would have said something regrettable.

Paris. He dragged you to France. If your situation were any different, you would have felt excited to be here. Before you exited the private jet, Zemo threatened you. If you had the glorious idea to speak up before you arrived at your destination, you would regret it later. Basically, you thought he would kill you. Of course you had no clue that the Baron would never hurt you in any way. After all, you were a victim of his kidnapping. Whether he called it that or not. The small alleyways were decorated with narrow buildings sitting next to each other. The cobblestone street underlined the atmosphere perfectly. Eyes wide, you were overwhelmed by the impression of the beauty of the sweet town. When one of his hands reached for yours, you did not even flinch back. Because, if you were honest, it felt good. Your intertwined fingers brought you warmth. A feeling that spread out through your entire body. Sparks, almost like the beginning of a firework, started forming. The sun shone brightly. Your eyes closed contently. Hence why you did not notice Zemo watching your every move. He reminisced your features closely. The sunlight brought out the beauty of you in a way that was worth remembering. Your body sensed something. It was in your nature when someone stared at you. Carefully, your eyes opened, showing the (Y/E/C) colors that glowed almost mysteriously in the light. Warm brown ones locked onto yours. The two of you exchanged an honest, almost shy smile.

“What?” your head tilted to the side, observing his face. Looking for a sign. Any sign. But Zemo was a clandestine guy. It was almost impossible to look through him. Something inside you took that as a challenge. Maybe you could make his walls come crashing down. Maybe you were the one to change him. Wait. Why were your thoughts running down that road? He was the person to take you away from your friends. The sympathy that started building up was wrong. That much you knew. Resisting felt like a tough task. What did he say during the flight? Something about pushing down your urges. This was the first time you understood the meaning.

If you thought the town was pretty then the apartment you entered was stunning. It was on the top floor. Spacious, furnished in a minimalist way. Overly white, accentuated with colorful artwork. Special pieces to complete the look of it. It screamed expensive. The process of taking everything in took a few minutes. It was overstraining. In the best way possible. You should screw down your excitement. After all, you were part of an incredibly dangerous situation. But you let his touch linger on your skin. Just for a fraction longer. If you really wanted to, you could have retreated. Something told you that Zemo would not have forced you to hold onto him. That thought alone calmed you down a little further. Technically, he was not a stranger. Throughout the missions you had performed together, with Sam & Bucky, you two had become acquainted with. You were associates, apparently. And associates were not supposed to fear one another. Then again, associates would not kidnap each other. Your body was overthrown with mixed signals. Unknown what was wrong & what was right. Your friends would probably describe you as insane, reckless. Maybe you were. Maybe the last few weeks had formed you into a different type of person. That type who sympathized with a criminal. With a criminal who broke out of a high security jail. Since when had criminals become your type? And why were you starting to think in a very friendly, almost amorous way? Looked like you really were insane.

Who would have thought the Baron to be an excellent chef? Definitely not you. But here he was, preparing a meal for you. This was actually pretty sweet of him. His body behind the stove & his eyes focused on the task. It was a sight for sore eyes. Only, of course, if he were not Zemo you were referring to. While he cooked, you set the table. He assured you that you did not have to but it felt like the right thing to do. It was the least you could do. What were you even saying? He kidnapped you, for God’s sake. Your body, your emotions, should be damned.

“Is this something you do often?” Zemo’s question caught you off guard. For a moment, you halted in your tracks. Cutlery was being put down. A deep breath left your mouth.

“What?” your bewildered expression made him chuckle. Funny to watch your perplexity.

“Living in your head more than in the present.” his proclamation cut through the tension.

“I…um, haven’t realized that, actually.” you answered awkwardly. Your hand raised to the back of your head, resting behind your ear.

“You do. When spending time with Sam & James. And now. It is quite entertaining.” he eyed you closely. It made you slightly uncomfortable.

“Why?” your curiosity got the best of you. That was nothing new. Even before he brought you here, your nosiness was on of your more obvious characteristics.

“Because the light in your eyes shifts. You are more at ease. Not to forget your smile…” Zemo trailed off at the end of his sentence, voice a little softer than usual.

“What about my smile?” you really were curious. Would it be in your favor or not? There was only one way to figure that out.

“It differs from when you are actively engaged in a conversation. The corners of your mouth lift in a softer way. No hesitation or restriction.” he finished, his sparkling brown eyes meeting yours. Due to the embarrassment, you could not keep eye contact. So you averted your gaze, facing the almost empty plate in front of you.

“You talk like you’ve known me forever.” your whispers were almost missed. The tone so quiet, even your racing heart was louder.

“I am simply skilled at reading people. You facilitate that process, actually.” every single word he spoke made so much sense that it almost did not make sense anymore. There was no other way to describe it.

“I do? How?” your constant short questions were amusing to him. On one hand, you wanted to distance yourself from him as much as possible. On the other hand, you inquired every single time he finished talking.

“I assume it is because you do not fear opening up to me & letting me in.” people who did not know your history would have believed you two had been friends for years. By the way he discerned the small, almost unnoticeable details about you. Details you did not even know existed in the first place.

“You assume an awful lot, Baron.” you teased, eyes moving to his face gingerly.

“Tell me I’m wrong.” but you could not. Because it would have been a lie. A smirk made its way onto his face when you did not give him a reply. Unintentionally, you mimicked his expression. He had you. Right here, he had you. And he was not the only one aware of the shift in the situation. You were just as deep in it as he was. It was a game with fire. Who would get burned in the end?

~to be continued~

Published (04/28/2021) by Cathy

Tags: @yallgotkik, @noavengers, @lieutenantn, @birdieofloxley, @aisling1985, @trelaney, @hiddlestoner-cumberbitch, @msmarvelsmain, @friday18eo, @crackerjackharkness, @waiting-for-motivation, @obsessedwithfandomsx, @friday18eo, @bibliophilewednesday, @princess-yuna, @trenton007, @pedropascallovebot, @your-lovers-heart, @stressedoutsteph (thanks for your support <3)

Fire on Fire (Wanda Maximoff/ Reader)

Hello! This one was inspired by Sam Smith’s “Fire on Fire”. Once again, post- Age of Ultron and pre-Civil War. Hope you like it! :)

Warnings: None, just fluff featuring Cap and Clint being protective and supportive. 

“Maybe it's 'cause I got a little bit older, maybe it's all that I've been through. I'd like to think it's how you lean on my shoulder and how I see myself with you.”

Wanda took a seat on the mat of the training area and took a sip of water as her mind wandered to you (as it often did). It had been several months since you and Wanda had officially been together and to say it was going well would be an understatement. You two fit together like pieces of a puzzle and the rate at which she fell for you absolutely stunned her. She hadn’t felt this much love in her heart since she lost Pietro. She didn’t think she ever could again… until you. 

Never in her life had she felt something this intense – she never thought she was capable of feelings this intense. In her past she knew there was very little opportunity for love, but even if there was, she couldn’t imagine replicating this. Wanda knew you were special. What she found with you was special.

Those three little words had been on the tip of her tongue so many times, yet she could never find the courage to utter them to you. The remnants of the fear of losing those she loved still weighed heavily on her. It was something she was working on. Despite her fear of uttering those three words, there was no doubt in her mind that she was completely and hopelessly in love with you. 

The sound of a throat clearing startled her out of her thoughts as she snapped her head up to meet the eyes of Steve who was smiling down at her amicably. “Wanda,” he began, “I was hoping we could have a word.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be running training?” She asked with a tilt of her head.

Steve chuckled and gestured to the empty room which Wanda hadn’t noticed until that moment. “We just finished up a few minutes ago. How’s about that word?”

Wanda spun a single ring she wore on her finger nervously as she nodded. “Sure, Steve.” She had a feeling she knew where this was going. Steve was very protective of you and she was well aware of that, so it was only a matter of time before this talk happened. 

Steve offered his hand out to help her up which she easily accepted. “Let’s take a walk.” The walk was wordless until they left the compound which didn’t help Wanda’s nerves in the slightest. “You have nothing to be worried about, Wanda.”

“How did you- “

A boisterous laugh escaped his lips, “You look like I’m about to murder you any second now.” 

Wanda merely shrugged and nodded with a small smile, “Fair enough.”

Steve’s expression became serious once again as he regarded Wanda, “I’m just going to cut to the chase. I think you’re a good kid. You’ve been through situations that would have left even the strongest soldiers on their knees and came out stronger than before. I respect that.” 

She sensed there was a ‘but’ in his speech and she wasn’t sure if she wanted to know what it was.

With a flat expression he continued, “I know you’re dating Y/n, and I’m sure you know my history with her. I don’t know if it’s because of how I found her, but I’m very protective of her, Wanda.” 

Her gaze fell to the floor at his words as she nodded understandingly. “You don’t think that I’m good for her.” She whispered and refused to allow herself to look up at him and see the pity on his face.

Immediately Steve stopped in his tracks and placed his hands on her shoulders to stop her as well, “What? Wanda, no,” he rushed out, a bewildered expression on his face, “that’s not what I’m saying at all. That’s actually the opposite of where I was going with that.”

Wanda furrowed her eyebrows and finally looked up at him, confusion in her eyes. “It is?” 

With a nod Steve continued, “It is. In fact, I think that you two are perfect for each other. It’s clear that you bring out the best in one another and have helped each other heal. I just –“ he rubbed the back of his neck, “Be gentle with Y/n. I know you understand what she’s been through more than anyone, but it’s still a lot and I worry about her.” 

“I will be, she’s helped me more than you know.” she replied quietly. 

A thoughtful look overcame his features, “It’s been nice seeing her so happy. Seeing you both happy. Seeing her happy is something I never thought I’d see when we first met. You’re a big part of that. Just take care of her, okay?”

Wanda nodded seriously, “I promise I’ll take care of her, Steve. I-I… I love her. I want to do everything in my power to keep her happy too.”

“You love her?” Steve questioned happily with an excited smile.

Bashfully, Wanda tucked a piece of hair behind her ear and smiled back at him. “I do. I just haven’t told her yet.”

Steve wrapped an arm around her shoulder and spun her back in the direction they came from. “In that case, let’s get you back to your girl then.” They walked a few paces when Steve spoke again, “She loves you too, you know?”

“You think so?” she questioned insecurely. 

With a steady and sure voice, Steve replied, “I know so.” 

Back at the compound, you were looking for your girlfriend, a bit confused as to where she could have gone after training. You wandered into the kitchen with no luck as the only person there was Clint who was seemingly reading the newspaper at the kitchen counter. “Clint?” you called out.

He hummed but didn’t look up from his reading.

“Have you seen Wanda? I’ve been looking all over for her.” You took a seat next to him and rested your head on your folded arms petulantly. 

Clint chuckled as you watched him fold his newspaper and turn his attention to you, “Don’t pout, kid. I think she just went on a walk with Cap.”

Your head perked up curiously, “Really? Do you know why?”

Again, Clint chuckled. “I think you know why, kiddo.” You swatted his arm when he smirked.

With a groan you buried your head in your arms, “Damn Rogers and his outdated ideas of dating.”

From where you were seated you could hear Clint clear his throat which made you lift your head and eye him wearily. “That reminds me. I was hoping we could have a chat too.”

Skeptically, you nodded, “This feels like a set-up.” You mumbled.

Clint pressed on with an indifferent shrug, “It kind of was. I wanted to talk to you about Wanda.”

You stared at him in silence for a few moments, “… I’m getting the talk, aren’t I?”

“You sure are. Now, shut up so I can get through this.” You mimed zipping your lips which caused him to roll his eyes and try to fight back a smile. “I owe a lot to Wanda. Her brother gave his life for my own. I see her as a daughter of sorts now. I always wished I could do more to ease her sadness, but then you came and did what none of us were able to. You made her smile. I appreciated that so much.”

A small smile to him was your only response as you sensed he wasn’t done quite yet.

He placed a firm hand on your arm, “I have no threats for you in this talk. I’m glad you’re here. I’m glad you found happiness with one another. Don’t lose that. Not that you need it, or probably care, but you have my approval.”

With misty eyes you hugged Clint, “Of course I care. Thank you, Clint.”

You felt him hug you back. “Don’t hurt her, okay?”

Pulling back from the hug you firmly nodded. “I would never intentionally hurt her. She means everything to me.”

“Sounds like love to me,” Clint teased playfully.

The room went quiet for a moment before you spoke, “I can’t see my life with anyone else by my side.” 

Clint knowingly pat your shoulder, “So, it really is love.”

“It is. I love Wanda.”

“Y/n?” 

With wide eyes you turned to the direction the voice came from quickly. “Wanda!” you exclaimed as you noticed her enter the space with Steve who was smiling proudly at you.

With a clap of his hands, Clint stood up and walked over to Steve, “Looks like that’s our cue, Cap. Y/n, Wanda.” He rushed out as he exited the kitchen, followed by Steve who merely winked and saluted you before following Clint out.

When you turned your attention back to Wanda, you found her watching you with a soft expression on her face. “How much of that did you hear?” you asked as you wrung your hands nervously.

Wordlessly she stepped forward and took hold of your hands. Her expression now nervous. “I heard… enough…” She trailed off as she ran her thumb over the back of your hand passively, “I love you, Y/n.” she breathed out.

You stared at her for a moment, just reveling in her words and searching her eyes, finding nothing but love. Without hesitation you surged forward and connected your lips, hoping to pour every ounce of love you felt in your soul for her into the kiss. You only broke apart when the smiles on both of your faces made it too difficult to continue. “I love you, so much. You are my only direction, Wanda.” You whispered. 

With your words, every single fear Wanda previously felt vanished and all that remained was the love she felt for you. 

She leaned her forehead on yours, a loving smile on her face. “And you are mine, moya lyubov. You are perfection to me. You saved me.” Happiness blossomed in your chest as Wanda connected your lips in another passionate kiss. 

Hello again, here’s part 3! For the next part should I take the angst route or would you all prefer some more fluff? Let me know. As always hope you enjoyed!

(For reference part 1 is “Latch”, part 2 is “One Day at a Time”)